Fic: Fine Lines (1/?)
Title- Fine Lines
Summary- In Dave, Kurt had come to find both a friend and protector, the latter of which would save him from a late-night attack. Dave, however, is not left unscathed. Rating for language, homophobic slurs/actions and non-gratuitous violence. Eventual Kurtofsky.
Words- 1,500
Warnings/Rating- PG-13, maybe verging on R for language, homophobic slurs/attitudes and non-gratuitous violence.
A/N- Inspired by a scene from Max Adler's new film 'Wolf Town' and a Tumblr conversation about a theoretical scene possibility for next season. I have plans to continue this, but let me know what you think of it as it is and I'll decide from there.
Disclaimer- As ever, not mine.
It should have been no different from any of the other late-nights. This hadn't been the first time he had taken up responsibility for closing the garage, after all. Sure, it was a little creepy being by himself at 1 am in an otherwise deserted area, but he had more or less gotten over any misgivings he'd ever had.
Getting lucky too many times will do that to a person, he supposed.
He had just locked up and was focused on texting his Dad the fact that he was coming home, followed by Mercedes concerning a possible girl's-night-in, when the cat-calling started.
"Look, that's him, the fag!"
"There he is, the little cock-slut."
"Hey faggot, can you take a lot of it? I bet you'd like to taste my nuts, wouldn't you, you fucking fag."
Kurt might have been able and willing to hold his own in most situations, but he wasn't stupid enough to try anything against a group of towering, sleazy fucks wandering towards him in a deserted parking lot in the dark, wee hours of the morning.
He ignored them and walked briskly to his car, hoping that he could get in and floor the gas and peel out of there with his life, trying in vain to convince himself that he wasn't afraid. His heart was pounding so loud in his chest now that it almost drowned out the assholes- almost.
"Hey, where you going, faggot?"
"Don't you want to come get better acquainted with us studs?"
Kurt reached his car and made to open the door, but he hadn't realized how close his assailants had gotten to him. He was stopped from climbing within by a crowd of hands that ripped his own from the car door and slammed him unceremoniously against the side.
His breath had gotten unnaturally ragged, as he was finding it increasingly difficult to inhale normally. His heart felt almost as though it might escape completely from his chest while his mouth grew dry and his stomach dropped and churned. The group continued their verbal taunts, now accompanying them with aggressive touches. Kurt thought he might vomit.
He told himself not to cry as the situation started looking more and more bleak, but it was no use. Hot tears fought against his eyelids and eventually escaped and soaked his face. He could taste the salt as they seeped into the corners of his mouth.
Could he really just let himself resign to this? Would he just stand there and cry while this encounter met its logical conclusion?
In a last-ditch attempt to defend himself, Kurt kicked and screamed and flailed, hoping against hope that it would be of some use. Much to his disgust and frustration, the group seemed to take pleasure in seeing him writhe and was nothing if not encouraged by his display.
"Hey, back the fuck off him unless you want me to beat all your faces in."
Kurt wasn't in the right frame of mind to identify the voice or where it had come from. He knew only that it had captured the attention of his assailants long enough for them to stop and face the direction of the intrusion. He exhaled deeply with relief.
"Get lost, douchebag," one of the assholes yelled back.
"'Else we fucking mess you up, too."
"I don't think you heard me," the voice said again, this time a bit louder. "I said back the fuck off him unless you me to beat all your faces in. You fucking think I won't do it? Keep it up and see."
One of the assholes broke away from the group and Kurt watched him approach a figure that he couldn't make out in the black of the night. Asshole pushed the figure and yelled something incoherent. The figure then decked asshole square across the face and asshole fell to the ground. The group broke away from Kurt completely and ran to the figure's location. Kurt, not bothering to even think twice, threw open his car door, started the engine and skirted out of the parking lot as fast as he could, still breathing heavily, his heart vying more than ever to escape the confines of his ribcage.
He had gotten halfway home before the memory of the voice suddenly erupted in his mind and he fully realized that not only did that voice save him, but it sounded eerily familiar. It had sounded almost like…
Dear god, no…fuck no…
He nearly turned the car over making the whiplash turn back around and broke several traffic laws on the journey. After parking haphazardly somewhere in front of the garage, Kurt jumped out of the car and raced back to the scene where the group could no longer be found.
The figure was still there, however, now lying immovable on the pavement. Kurt once more got the almost irrepressible urge to vomit.
"Please be okay…" he chanted under his breath, racing to the mound of person. "Please, sweet mercy, be okay…"
When he dropped to his knees beside the figure and turned it on its side, his fears were confirmed.
"David…oh, David…what have I done?"
Dave Karofsky did not look well. Bruises mottled his face and blood streamed from every orifice on his face- nose, ears and mouth- on to the pavement below them. He coughed, and while it sounded sickeningly rattled it still made Kurt's heart leap with relief. He was alive, at least.
"Kurt…" Dave groaned, barely coherent.
"Shhh…" Kurt coaxed, removing his jacket and folding it under Dave's head as a makeshift cushion once he'd gotten the larger boy on his back. "It's okay, I'm going to get help…"
He didn't dare leave Dave's side as he proceeded to call an ambulance and then Burt. Kurt instead gripped Dave's hand tightly, both for his sake and his own, and decided he wouldn't let go until Dave was secured on the gurney.
"My dad's going to call yours," Kurt informed him as soon as the phone conversation was over. Dave simply nodded as best as he could before coughing violently again. As soon as he recovered, he managed a weak, "'Glad you're okay, fancy."
Kurt normally hated that name. Dave had taken to calling him that over the bitter end of the summer and first few weeks of school, when their sporadic friendship had become especially strong due to Dave's decision to come out. True, it was an indication that they were comfortable with each other now, that they had bonded and Kurt, despite his better judgment, was rather proud of it. But 'fancy' had been a moniker used by Dave as an insult in their past and it was for this reason that Kurt was dubious about it, often reminding his new friend that he preferred to be called by his proper name. Or Mr. Hummel, he would say sometimes, if Dave was feeling especially respectful.
But in this moment, there was no sweeter music to his ears. On the seemingly endless trek back to the garage, Kurt had begun to wonder if he'd ever hear Dave call him that again, or hear his voice at all, for that matter. There had been a time when all he ever wanted was for Dave Karofsky to get the hell out of his life. Now, a year later, he found himself dreading the thought of having to live without him.
"I'm so sorry, David…" Kurt said, not even bothering to hold back his tears. "I shouldn't have left you, I should've-"
"Hey. Stop it, don't apologize…you did exactly what I hoped you would."
"David Karofsky, you stop it. They've completely mauled you!"
"Better me than you, fancy."
Dave managed a weak smile and Kurt, despite his still overwhelming sense of guilt, couldn't help but reciprocate. He didn't know why, but the uncontrollable urge to comfortingly touch his friend came over him, and so he ran his hands soothingly through Dave's hair and caressed his cheeks and forehead.
"You're going to be alright," Kurt said as much for himself as for Dave. "I know you hurt now, but it'll better soon, I promise."
Dave's grip on Kurt's hand tightened when the sirens and lights of the ambulance could be seen and heard coming down the street.
"Just please don't leave me," he whispered desperately. "I don't want to be alone."
"I won't ever make that mistake again, I promise. You are never alone so long as you have me."
Kurt then pressed his lips to Dave's fingers as though to seal the agreement and he kept their hands gripped tightly until Dave was safely inside the ambulance and the EMTs staunchly refused him entry.
Summary- In Dave, Kurt had come to find both a friend and protector, the latter of which would save him from a late-night attack. Dave, however, is not left unscathed. Rating for language, homophobic slurs/actions and non-gratuitous violence. Eventual Kurtofsky.
Words- 1,500
Warnings/Rating- PG-13, maybe verging on R for language, homophobic slurs/attitudes and non-gratuitous violence.
A/N- Inspired by a scene from Max Adler's new film 'Wolf Town' and a Tumblr conversation about a theoretical scene possibility for next season. I have plans to continue this, but let me know what you think of it as it is and I'll decide from there.
Disclaimer- As ever, not mine.
It should have been no different from any of the other late-nights. This hadn't been the first time he had taken up responsibility for closing the garage, after all. Sure, it was a little creepy being by himself at 1 am in an otherwise deserted area, but he had more or less gotten over any misgivings he'd ever had.
Getting lucky too many times will do that to a person, he supposed.
He had just locked up and was focused on texting his Dad the fact that he was coming home, followed by Mercedes concerning a possible girl's-night-in, when the cat-calling started.
"Look, that's him, the fag!"
"There he is, the little cock-slut."
"Hey faggot, can you take a lot of it? I bet you'd like to taste my nuts, wouldn't you, you fucking fag."
Kurt might have been able and willing to hold his own in most situations, but he wasn't stupid enough to try anything against a group of towering, sleazy fucks wandering towards him in a deserted parking lot in the dark, wee hours of the morning.
He ignored them and walked briskly to his car, hoping that he could get in and floor the gas and peel out of there with his life, trying in vain to convince himself that he wasn't afraid. His heart was pounding so loud in his chest now that it almost drowned out the assholes- almost.
"Hey, where you going, faggot?"
"Don't you want to come get better acquainted with us studs?"
Kurt reached his car and made to open the door, but he hadn't realized how close his assailants had gotten to him. He was stopped from climbing within by a crowd of hands that ripped his own from the car door and slammed him unceremoniously against the side.
His breath had gotten unnaturally ragged, as he was finding it increasingly difficult to inhale normally. His heart felt almost as though it might escape completely from his chest while his mouth grew dry and his stomach dropped and churned. The group continued their verbal taunts, now accompanying them with aggressive touches. Kurt thought he might vomit.
He told himself not to cry as the situation started looking more and more bleak, but it was no use. Hot tears fought against his eyelids and eventually escaped and soaked his face. He could taste the salt as they seeped into the corners of his mouth.
Could he really just let himself resign to this? Would he just stand there and cry while this encounter met its logical conclusion?
In a last-ditch attempt to defend himself, Kurt kicked and screamed and flailed, hoping against hope that it would be of some use. Much to his disgust and frustration, the group seemed to take pleasure in seeing him writhe and was nothing if not encouraged by his display.
"Hey, back the fuck off him unless you want me to beat all your faces in."
Kurt wasn't in the right frame of mind to identify the voice or where it had come from. He knew only that it had captured the attention of his assailants long enough for them to stop and face the direction of the intrusion. He exhaled deeply with relief.
"Get lost, douchebag," one of the assholes yelled back.
"'Else we fucking mess you up, too."
"I don't think you heard me," the voice said again, this time a bit louder. "I said back the fuck off him unless you me to beat all your faces in. You fucking think I won't do it? Keep it up and see."
One of the assholes broke away from the group and Kurt watched him approach a figure that he couldn't make out in the black of the night. Asshole pushed the figure and yelled something incoherent. The figure then decked asshole square across the face and asshole fell to the ground. The group broke away from Kurt completely and ran to the figure's location. Kurt, not bothering to even think twice, threw open his car door, started the engine and skirted out of the parking lot as fast as he could, still breathing heavily, his heart vying more than ever to escape the confines of his ribcage.
He had gotten halfway home before the memory of the voice suddenly erupted in his mind and he fully realized that not only did that voice save him, but it sounded eerily familiar. It had sounded almost like…
Dear god, no…fuck no…
He nearly turned the car over making the whiplash turn back around and broke several traffic laws on the journey. After parking haphazardly somewhere in front of the garage, Kurt jumped out of the car and raced back to the scene where the group could no longer be found.
The figure was still there, however, now lying immovable on the pavement. Kurt once more got the almost irrepressible urge to vomit.
"Please be okay…" he chanted under his breath, racing to the mound of person. "Please, sweet mercy, be okay…"
When he dropped to his knees beside the figure and turned it on its side, his fears were confirmed.
"David…oh, David…what have I done?"
Dave Karofsky did not look well. Bruises mottled his face and blood streamed from every orifice on his face- nose, ears and mouth- on to the pavement below them. He coughed, and while it sounded sickeningly rattled it still made Kurt's heart leap with relief. He was alive, at least.
"Kurt…" Dave groaned, barely coherent.
"Shhh…" Kurt coaxed, removing his jacket and folding it under Dave's head as a makeshift cushion once he'd gotten the larger boy on his back. "It's okay, I'm going to get help…"
He didn't dare leave Dave's side as he proceeded to call an ambulance and then Burt. Kurt instead gripped Dave's hand tightly, both for his sake and his own, and decided he wouldn't let go until Dave was secured on the gurney.
"My dad's going to call yours," Kurt informed him as soon as the phone conversation was over. Dave simply nodded as best as he could before coughing violently again. As soon as he recovered, he managed a weak, "'Glad you're okay, fancy."
Kurt normally hated that name. Dave had taken to calling him that over the bitter end of the summer and first few weeks of school, when their sporadic friendship had become especially strong due to Dave's decision to come out. True, it was an indication that they were comfortable with each other now, that they had bonded and Kurt, despite his better judgment, was rather proud of it. But 'fancy' had been a moniker used by Dave as an insult in their past and it was for this reason that Kurt was dubious about it, often reminding his new friend that he preferred to be called by his proper name. Or Mr. Hummel, he would say sometimes, if Dave was feeling especially respectful.
But in this moment, there was no sweeter music to his ears. On the seemingly endless trek back to the garage, Kurt had begun to wonder if he'd ever hear Dave call him that again, or hear his voice at all, for that matter. There had been a time when all he ever wanted was for Dave Karofsky to get the hell out of his life. Now, a year later, he found himself dreading the thought of having to live without him.
"I'm so sorry, David…" Kurt said, not even bothering to hold back his tears. "I shouldn't have left you, I should've-"
"Hey. Stop it, don't apologize…you did exactly what I hoped you would."
"David Karofsky, you stop it. They've completely mauled you!"
"Better me than you, fancy."
Dave managed a weak smile and Kurt, despite his still overwhelming sense of guilt, couldn't help but reciprocate. He didn't know why, but the uncontrollable urge to comfortingly touch his friend came over him, and so he ran his hands soothingly through Dave's hair and caressed his cheeks and forehead.
"You're going to be alright," Kurt said as much for himself as for Dave. "I know you hurt now, but it'll better soon, I promise."
Dave's grip on Kurt's hand tightened when the sirens and lights of the ambulance could be seen and heard coming down the street.
"Just please don't leave me," he whispered desperately. "I don't want to be alone."
"I won't ever make that mistake again, I promise. You are never alone so long as you have me."
Kurt then pressed his lips to Dave's fingers as though to seal the agreement and he kept their hands gripped tightly until Dave was safely inside the ambulance and the EMTs staunchly refused him entry.