fic: What You Need (2/?)
Title: What You Need
Author: dark_tsume_fan
Rating: PG-13 for this chapter, R overall.
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Future Dave/Kurt, Finchel, Merzimio, Tike, and various others I will name as they come into play.
Genre: Future-fic, established relationships, romance, humor, slice-of-life maybe?
Warnings: Some cursing, a little violence. Warnings will be updated every chapter.
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Glee, but unfortunately, I do not ;A;
Summary: Real life isn’t divided into neat little segments; it’s messy and complicated and never works out the way we plan. But getting what we want and getting what we need (as Glee has often told us) are two different matters entirely.
(Also, mods: Can I please get an author tag? :D)
Quick Note: I just want to say thank you for the reviews, guys! They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside :3
Chapter Two: You Mean That’s Not a Closet??
“You told me Hummel was going to California with his boy-toy,” Dave hissed, shaking his fist at Azimio.
“OH, hell to the no - you did not just punch my boyfriend!” Mercedes yelled in Dave’s face. “Best friend or no, I will cut you.”
Kurt was screeching into his cell phone, “She told me that it was just going to be the three of us! She lied to me, Blaine - I should have known something was up when she told me not to worry; that Karofsky would be staying in Lima! I mean, eurgghhh!” He yelled out a few more intelligible words before the sound of a door slamming caught Mercedes’ attention.
“This isn’t over, David,” Mercedes threatened before running after her best friend. “Kurt, wait!” she called in a shrill voice. “You can’t just drive back to Lima!”
“What the hell, dude?” Dave grumbled, slowly unclenching his hand. He wiggled his fingers, avoiding eye contact with Azimio. “Why didn’t you just tell me Hummel was staying with us?”
“Cuz you woulda freaked, bro,” Az growled, holding his swiftly-bruising face. “Considering you nearly knocked one a’ my teeth out just now, I had a right to be concerned.”
A flush settled on the jock’s face and he swiped his thumb across his nose. Dave sighed. “Shit, you know I don’t think before I act, dude.” He held out his uninjured fist to Azimio. “We cool?”
“Not really,” Az admitted, nevertheless returning Dave’s offered fist-bump. “But I figure you can make it up t’ me by moving all my shit from the jeep later.” Dave snorted and the tension in his shoulders finally melted. “You two better be able to live together,” Azimio suddenly warned. “You’re my bro, but Hummel kinda is too - by association,” he added on quickly.
“I really wish you would’ve told me-” Dave started, but Azimio cut him off.
“If I’d a’ told you any sooner, you wouldn’t have left the state,” Azimio laughed, clapping Karofsky on the shoulder. “You got a scholarship to Penn State. You’d be wasting opportunities staying in Lima.”
“Yeah, well I don’t think I would’ve come here without you, man,” Dave confessed with a shy grin. “I definitely wouldn’t have roomed with your girlfriend.”
“Damn straight you wouldn’t have - oh wait, damn queer you wouldn’t have,” Azimio laughed, dodging Dave’s halfhearted swing. “Now get your queer ass back in front of the TV while I go help with damage control.”
“Good luck with that!” Dave threw over his shoulder as he trudged back to the den.
Azimio knew this was going to be a nightmare before he even made it out the door. The heavyset teen cautiously poked his head around the corner. Hummel was locked in his big-ass black car, fingers in his ears, singing, “La la la la la!” as Mercedes screamed obscenities at him.
“Kurt, get yo ass out the car!” Mercedes was practically steaming. “You’re acting like a baby!”
“Oh, I’m acting like a baby?!” the countertenor shrieked. “You lied to me!” Kurt continued ferociously, smacking his fist on the window. “I’m not about to live with that Neanderthal who drove me to another school just so you can get your freak on with your boyfriend!”
“First of all, do not talk to me like that, Kurt Hummel!” Azimio knew the white boy was in trouble by the way she was shaking her finger at him. “Second, you two worked that out ages ago, so you got no right to bring that up again. Third, if I want to get my freak on, I do not need Dave Karofsky here for it to happen. He’s going to Penn State, too; it makes sense for him to stay with us.”
“But I hate him,” Kurt whined, red splotches appearing on his cheeks.
“No you do not,” Mercedes insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. “Get out of the car.”
“Why are you treating me like I’m the one in trouble?” Kurt bitched but opened the driver’s door and slid out anyway. “You’re the one who lied to me.”
“You know he’s not all that bad,” Mercedes pleaded. “Would you just give him a chance, Kurt?”
“Do you even hear yourself?” Kurt growled, running a hand through his bangs. “Would you?”
“I’m sorry I lied, Kurt,” Mercedes apologized softly, looking at her friend with bright eyes. She gently laid a hand on his arm. “I didn’t know how to bring it up without you freaking out, so Az and I thought that this way would be best for everyone involved. It wouldn’t hurt for you to get along with my boyfriend’s best friend…” She blinked her long lashes up at him. “…would it?”
“You, my friend,” Kurt declared, “are a master at manipulation.” He grabbed her hand. “In the future, let’s team together and use those skills on someone else.”
Something lit up in her eyes and she grinned mischievously. “We’ll see about that.”
Kurt side-eyed her.
I just can’t believe her, Blaine! She knew this whole time Karofsky was going to be staying with us and she never said a thing to me!
That really sucks, Kurt :( I’m sorry. Why didn’t she just tell you?
She’s got this absurd notion in her head that just because she’s dating Azimio that I need to become best friends with Karofsky. It’s NOT going to happen >:/
Then why’d you go back inside? ;)
Loathe as I am to admit it, the idea of standing outside all night arguing wasn’t too appealing. I figured I could sulk inside all evening and make her feel guilty.
Kurt…no offense, but I’ve met Mercedes lol. She’s not going to let it get to her, especially if her boyfriend is there.
>:[
Oh, don’t get mad at me just because you know I’m right, lol.
>:[[[
Your face is so much cuter when you’re smiling, Kurt… :)
…
You’re smiling now, aren’t you? ;)
I am not!
…Okay, maybe a little bit.
Haha, I knew it. Oh hey, hold on for one second.
Sure thing?
Blaine? You there?
Yoo-hoo~
Fine, whatever, I’m just going to go unpack now.
Yup, just going to go unpack now…
“Oh, whatever!” Kurt huffed, shoving his phone in his pocket and standing with a quick stretch. Ignoring everyone in the room, the singer sauntered out and upstairs to survey his new room. The movers had arrived a short while before Kurt and Mercedes had, so his bed frame and mattress were shoved in the corner. Kurt sighed, scooting the bed to the other side of the room. Sitting down on the bare mattress, the teen pulled his phone back out to check if Blaine had texted him back. He frowned; there wasn’t one from Blaine, but there was one from his father.
Hey buddy u make it up to PA ok?
Kurt smiled softly and called his dad. Burt picked up on the first ring. “Hey dad,” Kurt greeted, flopping back on the bed. “Sorry I didn’t call sooner, there was a little…drama when we got to the house.”
“Is everything alright, Kurt?” Burt asked. The phone crackled for a moment. “Whoops, sorry, the shop doesn’t get very good signal. What kinda drama?”
“Well…” The countertenor debated internally for a moment before deciding just to come out with it. “Apparently Karofsky is staying with us, too. Mercedes and Az decided not to tell either of us.”
There was a long pause. “…Is that going to be a problem, Kurt? You know I can set you up in a dorm if you need me to.”
“No,” Kurt sighed. “I mean, it’s growing on me, I guess. I can kind of get why she didn’t tell me - I mean, it’ll mean I have less rent to pay, and you know what he did for me senior year, I just-”
“Kurt,” Burt interrupted with a chuckle. “You’re rambling. I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little upset that your supposed best friend didn’t tell you ‘bout this ahead a’ time…But if you’re okay with it, then I am, too.”
“I’m not okay yet,” Kurt grumbled. “But I will be. I mean, it’s not like we hate each other anymore. It was just such a shock - I guess I regressed a bit.” The diva grimaced. “I probably shouldn’t have referred to him as a Neanderthal.”
“To his face? Ouch, Kurt.”
“Dad, be on my side!” Kurt laughed, crossing and uncrossing his legs. “You’re supposed to tell me I’m right all the time! No, not to his face,” Kurt confirmed. “But I was yelling so loud it might as well have been.”
“You definitely got a killer set of lungs,” Burt agreed. “You get that from your mother.”
Kurt sobered, rolling over on his side and curling into a ball. “I would’ve loved for her to see me going to college at her alma mater.”
“…You know, you didn’t have to go to Penn State just cuz your mom did. You could’ve gone to New York with Finn and Rachel and, oh, what’re their names?”
“Mike and Tina,” Kurt supplied with a light sigh. “I know, Dad. I didn’t choose Penn U just because of mom. They have a really good theater program here.”
“You decide whether you want to do singing or behind-the-scenes yet?” Burt asked gruffly.
“No,” Kurt admitted. “I figure I’ll do a little bit of everything and see what piques my interest.”
“Sounds good,” his father confirmed. “I love you, Kurt. You’re the best son I could’ve asked for.”
“Dad…” Kurt’s throat tightened. “I love you, too,” he whispered softly. “You’re the best daddy ever. I miss you already.”
“-I miss you, too Kurt. Listen, I uh.” There was a clunk in the background. “There’s a car up on the lift, I better go check it out before I close up for the day.” Burt cleared his throat. “Call me later?”
“Of course,” Kurt promised. “Bye Dad.”
“See ya kiddo.”
Sometimes Kurt Hummel really loved his dad.
With a happy sigh, Kurt closed his eyes and began to doze.
Kurt awoke about an hour later to the unrelenting buzzing of his phone by his face. He shook his head groggily, running a hand through his hair to check for bed-head. A text from Finn popped up on his screen.
Dude burt told me abt karofsky do i need 2 com down thr?
Finn, we have been over this: your texting skills are atrocious. Thank you for your concern, but I’m pretty sure Karofsky and I will be able to successfully ignore each other until our lease is up. How’s New York by the way?
Dude its so awesum! Rach is goin kinda crazy tho. Like crazier thn normal.
You’re the one who went with her.
She wantd me 2 carry her stuff…
Finn, you did not seriously go to school in New York so you could carry Rachel Berry’s LUGGAGE.
Um…
Oh my god, Finn. REALLY?
I thought u were an atheist?
IT’S AN EXPRESSION. FINN, TELL ME YOU DID NOT CHOOSE TO GO TO NEW YORK SO YOU COULD BE RACHEL’S BUTLER.
Omg chill dude, im jk. U r way 2 uptite.
I’m going to ignore that last sentence in lieu of unpacking, Finn. I will talk to you later.
L8r dude.
Don’t call me ‘dude’, Finn.
Sry bro.
Kurt growled and tossed his phone on the bed. Grabbing one of his suitcases from the hall, the countertenor lifted it up on his dresser and began to empty out its contents. Undergarments went in the top drawer to the left, socks to the right. Pajamas went in the second drawer down, blacks on the left, colors in the middle, and whites on the right (yes he had white pajamas, they were classy). When Kurt started color coordinating his shirts that didn’t need to be hung, a voice filtered in from the hallway.
“High maintenance much, Fancy?” Karofsky asked with an abrupt laugh, taking in the multiple suitcases by Kurt’s room.
The theater major narrowed his eyes. “Just because you only know how to wear jeans and a letterman mean the rest of the world has to.”
“Hey, at least I don’t give people headaches from that freaky shit you wear,” Dave rebutted with a jab of his finger in Kurt’s direction. “What the fuck are you even wearing anyway? Are those supposed to be clothes?”
“This is fashion,” Kurt explained through gritted teeth, waving a hand up and down his frame.
“Your shirt is made of ruffles!” Dave exclaimed, reaching forward and tugging on one. The jock jerked his hand back as if Kurt’s clothes stung him. “And don’t even get me started on your pants.”
“It’s called couture, Hamhock,” Kurt huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what is wrong with my pants?”
“They look like they were painted on you!” The taller boy tightened his mouth and shoved his hands in his jacket pocket. “Can you even move in them?” he choked out. “They look un-fucking-comfortable.”
“Not that my comfort is any of your concern, but I am actually quite fine in what I’m wearing, Karofsky,” Kurt sniffed disdainfully, placing one hand on his hip. “Sometimes, beauty takes a little pain.”
“You’re-” Dave shook his head and turned to leave Kurt’s room.
“What?” Kurt asked, cocking his head to the side. “I’m what?”
“Nothing,” Karofsky growled. “Now would you mind moving your shit? I can’t get to my room.”
“What do you mean your room?” Kurt questioned slowly, walking out in the hallway. Karofsky pointed to the door next to his room. “You mean my closet?”
“Dude, that’s not a closet,” Dave laughed. He shoved one of Kurt’s bags to the side and threw open the door. Kurt’s jaw dropped when he saw the bed and miscellaneous boy-related things inside. “See? It’s my room.”
“But,” Kurt said hollowly, looking across the hall. “There’s another room there.”
“That’s Az’s room,” Dave said. “And Mercedes’ too, I guess. There’s two beds in there.” He snorted, lips quirking into a grin. “Not that they’ll use them both, but-”
“La la la, don’t hear you!” Kurt sang, fingers in his ears. “My best friend is innocent, la la la.”
“Whatever you say, dude.”
“Don’t call me ‘dude’!” Kurt called as Dave shut himself in his room. The countertenor frowned and tapped a finger on his cheek, grimacing when it felt oily to the touch. “Ugh,” he groaned, grabbing his bag full of product. Kurt stalked back into his bedroom and opened the door to his bathroom. Flicking on the light, he surveyed the size of the room. “Not too shabby,” he commented, unzipping his bag and laying out several different cleansers and moisturizers. Kurt bent over the sink and twisted the tap so he could splash some water on his face. After his routine was finished, Kurt brought a fluffy towel up to dab at his cheeks and forehead. There was a shower-tub combination to his right (Score.) and the counter was large enough to fit most of his products. There was a small linen closet to his left and to the left of that another door -
Wait.
Eyes widening, Kurt strode over and threw open the other door. Dave Karofsky, in the process of changing into a pair of sweats, spluttered in a very undignified manner, “What the hell, Hummel?”
Kurt squeaked then rushed out of the bathroom, out of his room, and into the hallway. Leaning over the railing, Kurt yelled downstairs, “MERCEDES I’M GOING TO KILL YOU.”