Fic: Taking It Back (2/?)
Title: Taking It Back
Rating: PG-13/T (but this chapter has a vaguely, briefly described sex scene)
Summary: After the meeting at Scandals, Dave and Kurt attempt a friendship, much to the behest of everything around them.
Pairings: Kurtofsky (main), Klaine (slight), Seblaine, Santofsky
Blaine had long ago stopped rolling around the question in his head of whether or not this was right. He was only visiting Dalton a few times week, just to watch Warbler performances and keep tabs on his old friends. There was absolutely nothing wrong or questionable about that. After all, he had made the sacrifice for Kurt to transfer to McKinley and, while he did like it there, he missed his old prep school extremely. Surely he was entitled to a few visits, at least.
It just got slightly questionable when Sebastian came into the picture. If Blaine was honest, Sebastian came into the picture quite often. He knew that Kurt wouldn’t feel entirely comfortable with the two of them pursuing a friendship, one that he actually wasn’t telling Kurt about at all, but then again, he didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the idea of Kurt talking to his old tormentor and defending him as though he’d never harm a fly.
But he couldn’t tell his boyfriend what to do and vice-versa. Nevertheless, he allowed that fact to somewhat validate his own option to continue visiting Dalton under what was murky morality at best.
For a while, the visits were fairly routine and inarguably innocent. He and Sebastian would linger around each other pretty much the whole time, but it was limited to watching the Warblers perform, having coffee, chatting, and that was it. Eventually, however, Sebastian began inviting Blaine back to the common room for chess, which gradually led to invitations into his dorm room where it was quieter.
If Blaine at any point felt like acquiescing to these requests wasn’t a good idea, he immediately quashed those thoughts. To disagree would certainly be even more suspicious, implying that there was some sort of tension between them that he had to escape. Obviously, that wasn’t the situation- it couldn’t be the situation. If he and Sebastian were going to be friends, it needed to be okay for them to hang out in private.
So he agreed to these offers without hesitation and spent most of their time together trying to avoid Sebastian’s sharp green eyes from meeting with his.
“You seem a little on edge today,” Sebastian pointed out one afternoon while the two of them sat playing chess near the dorm room window. The low sunlight of the late autumnal afternoon fell across the board and the chess pieces, casting rather large, majestic shadows across the bed and floor.
“I guess I am,” Blaine replied with a chuckle, assuming Sebastian had picked up rather quickly on several of the factors weighing heavily in his mind.
“Don’t be. We’re supposed to be relaxing and having fun right now, aren’t we?”
Blaine’s gaze drifted to his lap. Before he could come up with some kind of reply, Sebastian spoke again.
“And don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding eye-contact with me. You haven’t looked me in the eye in, like, a week.”
The natural response for Blaine was to do just that, and when he did look up and make the contact that was requested he was immediately reminded why it was something he been keeping himself from doing.
From the day they met, Sebastian’s gaze had been anything but unnoticeable. It had gotten Blaine’s attention almost immediately, the way it stuck on him without ever straying and ravished him completely. It also seemed to have the power to pry into his thoughts, to read what he was feeling and thinking without ever needing to ask.
It both fascinated and terrified him.
“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asked after a time, though the slight smirk on his face seemed to indicate he was already well aware of the answer.
Blaine faltered.
“Sebastian…please understand that I like you a lot and I really appreciate our friendship…”
“But…” Sebastian offered.
“But…I don’t think this is right. I don’t think we should be seeing each other like this.”
Sebastian cocked his head. “Why not? There’s nothing wrong with two friends playing chess.”
“Yes, but Kurt doesn’t know I’ve been meeting you like this and if he did, I don’t think he’d be comfortable with it.
“So?” Sebastian chuckled. “Like I said, you’re not doing anything wrong. You can’t deny yourself friends just because your boyfriend is paranoid.”
“No, I guess you’re right…” Blaine agreed, clearly unconvinced.
“Of course, maybe it’s not Kurt that’s the problem here…”
Blaine both detested and appreciated Sebastian’s gifted insight and he was torn between those two as he continued onward with his theory.
“Maybe it’s you. Could it be that there is something scandalous about these meetings? Could it be something you’re feeling that’s letting you know hanging out with me isn’t entirely innocent?”
Blaine faltered, once again endeavoring to look anywhere that wasn’t in the general direction of the boy sitting across from him.
Mentally, he continued to fight to convince himself that wasn’t the case, but even he knew, in some dark recess that extended past his naiveté and delusion, that it very much was.
Before he could fully process what was happening, Sebastian had risen and come over to kneel down at his feet.
“We both knew this was inevitable,” he whispered, sounding uncharacteristically soothing. “You can pretend for your own sake that this was always a purely innocent set up, but we both know better, don’t we?”
Blaine couldn’t keep back the tears that now pressed against his eyelids.
“I love Kurt,” he insisted, not entirely sure who, out of the two of them, he was trying to convince. “I can’t hurt him.”
Sebastian’s thumb caught his tears as well as his jaw, the latter of which he began to cradle in his hands.
“Kurt doesn’t have to know.”
And with that, Sebastian brought their mouths together. Blaine did not, could not, and would not fight him, for as wrong as the passionate lip locking was, it felt completely right- more so than any kiss he had ever shared with Kurt. Theirs were sweet and innocent and sparse, even when they were intimate.
Sebastian, on the other hand, kissed Blaine as if he couldn’t get enough of him, as if he might disappear completely if he didn’t express how much he utterly desired him. He kissed him like he had never been before, and he tasted like a bittersweet mixture of espresso and turbinado sugar.
Blaine didn’t want to pull away when Sebastian kissed him. He didn’t want to stop Sebastian’s hands from undoing the buttons on his sweater, from pulling down the zipper on his khakis and he didn’t want to stop his own hands from doing the same to Sebastian’s clothes. He didn’t want to stop when the both of them fell haphazardly on the bed, when they gripped and pulled and clawed at each other desperately as they made love.
Blaine didn’t put an end to it until they were finished, lying in a cold sweat and Sebastian had gone to sleep. Only then did he rise, re-clothe himself and leave with a churning nausea in the pit of his stomach.
But at that point, it was already far too late.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The cool, dry fall air wafted through his damp hair as he made his way across the Shawnee High football field, clutching his bag in one hand and his car keys in the other.
“Good blocking out there, Karofsky!” Coach Gore called out to him from where he stood near the stands.
He waved slightly and yelled back, “Thanks, Coach!”
He didn’t want to be smug about it, but he was pretty well aware of how good his performance had been during the just-finished game. He hadn’t really realized how much of a distraction his paranoia had been until he had gone to a new school where no one really knew him and his reasons for being constantly on edge were completely removed. People were still homophobic assholes here, just as they would be at any small town high school, but to them he wasn’t the douchebag who bullied a gay kid he had a crush on or the members of the Glee club that kid was in. He wasn’t the guy who ran away from prom after being completely humiliated by his class.
Here, he was just Dave, the new guy who was tall and big and therefore a pretty good right guard. He made a point of being generally cordial and nice with people. He made sure to smile a lot more since it had been pointed out to him several times that he had a nice one and looked much more attractive when he did, and thus had already amounted a pretty close group of friends.
What was even better -and some undeserved gift from the gods, he was sure- was the fact that he hadn’t entirely lost his roots to his old school. The person he had come to consider his closest friend over the summer now waited for him near the fence, her hands shoved in the pockets of her McKinley High letterman. He was looking forward to telling her about his ever so slowly blossoming friendship with another McKinley High student, one that he had been hoping to bond with for a criminally long time.
“God, finally!” Santana cried out. “I was starving over here. Dios, Karofsky, you take longer to shower than any girl I’ve ever known.”
He linked arms with her and quickly pecked her cheek.
“Good to see you too, Tana. What did you think of me out there?”
She shrugged. “You’ve definitely gotten better.”
He smiled, nodding his head. “Coach seems to think so too. I dunno, I just feel a lot better these days. I guess it’s affecting my performance.”
Santana pulled closer to him for warmth against the late November air as they made their way to his truck. Tucking her coat in tighter she said with a grin,
“And you’re smiling like a damn fool every time I look at you. That’s definitely the look of someone who’s finally getting it regular. Are you meeting men aplenty at that hideous bar of yours?”
Dave laughed and shook his head. He was most definitely still a virgin and though men were fairly friendly to him at the bar, he had never so much as kissed one. There was only one boy he had run into at the bar, in fact, who could elicit such a response just by chatting with him. He intended to gush to Santana all about that and the fact that they were now talking over facebook IM during lunch. She was a much better conversation partner when she had food in her system anyway.
So he derailed the focus to her as they climbed into his truck and made their way to Sonic. She whined all the way about the latest Glee drama, which as of now included her leaving the club altogether and starting a new one with a group of wayward, but very talented girls. Dave made a joke about how distracted she must be with all of those short skirts and low cleavages around her all the time and she slapped him on the arm accordingly.
It was only when they were parked and waiting for their food that Santana lounged back on the seat and studied him with a smirk.
“But seriously,” she said, poking him slightly in the side. “What has made you so stupidly happy lately? Never without that ridiculous smirk, I swear.”
He laughed a little to himself and bit his bottom lip, readying himself to defy her misconceptions of just how ridiculous he could get.
“And now you’re blushing!” she exclaimed. “Who is wielding this power over you?”
“I didn’t tell you who I ran into at Scandals a week or two ago, did I?” he grinned.
She shook her head, looking intrigued.
“Kurt.”
Santana began cackling hysterically. “I fucking knew it!”
“I didn’t even tell you what happened!” he protested over her loud giggles.
“What? Did you slip him the hot beef injection?” she asked, mimicking the exact intonation of Judd Nelson in The Breakfast Club.
He blushed deeper and shook his head insistently.
“God, no. We just talked for a bit, and it was nice. It was nice, Tana.”
Santana ‘oohed’ facetiously, but Dave ignored her.
“I saw him when he first came in, but as usual he was sort of stuck on gel-cap’s hip, so I kinda just laid low for a while. But then, to the surprise of fucking no one, gel-cap went off with the bar’s resident whore and started dancing up on him. He just fucking left Kurt at the bar to grind his ass up against another guy. Right in front of him. What the fuck is that shit, really?”
“That’s the world being cruel and unfair.” Santana sighed.
“Yeah, well it worked out alright because I got an opportunity to talk to him alone. I just went for it, scared as fuck, knowing that he was bound to toss his drink in my face or ream me out or something. But none of that happened. He talked to me like I was an old friend or something. It was weird, but really nice. Later, I got a notification that he wanted to add me on facebook.”
“Like, oh em gee, gurl-fran.” Santana squealed mockingly.
Dave rolled his eyes. “You’re not cute.”
“Uh, no, I’m fucking adorable and you know it.”
“Anyway, we’ve been talking pretty regularly on IM. It’s nothing serious, just sort of…”
“Nice?” Santana offered tiredly.
Dave laughed. “Yeah. Nice.”
“Listen, mi querido, as cute as it is that you’re this in love with ladypants, please don’t get so carried away with this little crush that you forget he has a boyfriend- a boyfriend who is not like you by any stretch of the imagination.”
“I know he has a boyfriend,” Dave sighed, absentmindedly rubbing a spot on his steering wheel with his thumb. “And I’m not stupid enough to think he’d ever look at me the way he looks at Bland. It’s just kinda nice that he gives me the time of day now, instead of not knowing I exist or wanting me to die or whatever.”
“I mean, it’s not like there aren’t other cute boys out there who would fuck you. Kurt’s just one guy out of many.”
Dave nodded and put on a reassuring smile as he allowed their conversation to deviate to other completely unrelated things.
But he didn’t agree with Santana’s last claim and it did nothing to reassure him. Maybe to her Kurt was just another guy, a dime a dozen among effeminate, fashionable twinks. And, no, even with the growing knowledge Dave was getting of gay lifestyles and even with all the gay guys he had met in the span of time he had been at Scandals, he still could not say for sure that there was not a million other guys like Kurt. Maybe they lived in San Francisco or something, what did he know?
What he was sure of, however, was that Kurt enchanted him the way no other guy had before- not any of the cute guys at the bar that had flirted with him, not any of the secret crushes he’d nursed in the past (including one on Finn for a time, the knowledge of which he would take to his grave), not even any celebrities he fantasized about, like Ryan Gosling. Kurt had a certain way of moving and walking and talking- graceful and precise, and when he made his way down the hall he was like some sort of fashionable gazelle. Even when Dave caught sight of him in the admittedly grungy bar that Scandals is, lounging angrily with his lean legs crossed over one another, leather boots up to the knee and straw of his fruity clutched between his full lips, he somehow made the decorum and atmosphere around him that much more elegant, just by being there. Then again, Dave often had a hard time focusing on anything else when Kurt was in his vicinity, so it might have just been his eyes playing tricks on him.
But as gorgeous as Kurt was, it was that sweet and sour personality of his that had advanced Dave’s feelings for him from frustrated lust to infatuation to something that he could only characterize as a really, really strong crush. Kurt was most definitely a bitch, snippy and accustom to getting his way, which Dave both admired and found endearing. Yet, he was also surprisingly forgiving and had a soft, caring side that, when accessed, was comfortingly warm. That was not to mention that he was intelligent and had wit so sharp it could cut glass.
Kurt was just everything and Dave knew somehow he wasn’t ever going to meet anyone else quite like him. Maybe that was for the best.
But it didn’t change the fact that he felt the almost irrepressible urge to punch Blaine in the face for even giving another guy the time of day when he had someone like Kurt. Dave knew that were Kurt his -in some odd, bizarro universe in which up was down- he would never, for a second, have to second guess Dave’s love for him. The whole cheesy thing about only having eyes for one person? Yeah, that would definitely be the case, because no one else held a candle to Kurt in Dave’s mind.
Kurt deserved someone to love him like that, Dave knew, but like he had assured Santana, he wasn’t delusional enough to think that someone could ever be him.
They would only ever be friends, Dave was certain, but it was more than enough. -----------------------------------------------------------------
Rating: PG-13/T (but this chapter has a vaguely, briefly described sex scene)
Summary: After the meeting at Scandals, Dave and Kurt attempt a friendship, much to the behest of everything around them.
Pairings: Kurtofsky (main), Klaine (slight), Seblaine, Santofsky
Blaine had long ago stopped rolling around the question in his head of whether or not this was right. He was only visiting Dalton a few times week, just to watch Warbler performances and keep tabs on his old friends. There was absolutely nothing wrong or questionable about that. After all, he had made the sacrifice for Kurt to transfer to McKinley and, while he did like it there, he missed his old prep school extremely. Surely he was entitled to a few visits, at least.
It just got slightly questionable when Sebastian came into the picture. If Blaine was honest, Sebastian came into the picture quite often. He knew that Kurt wouldn’t feel entirely comfortable with the two of them pursuing a friendship, one that he actually wasn’t telling Kurt about at all, but then again, he didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the idea of Kurt talking to his old tormentor and defending him as though he’d never harm a fly.
But he couldn’t tell his boyfriend what to do and vice-versa. Nevertheless, he allowed that fact to somewhat validate his own option to continue visiting Dalton under what was murky morality at best.
For a while, the visits were fairly routine and inarguably innocent. He and Sebastian would linger around each other pretty much the whole time, but it was limited to watching the Warblers perform, having coffee, chatting, and that was it. Eventually, however, Sebastian began inviting Blaine back to the common room for chess, which gradually led to invitations into his dorm room where it was quieter.
If Blaine at any point felt like acquiescing to these requests wasn’t a good idea, he immediately quashed those thoughts. To disagree would certainly be even more suspicious, implying that there was some sort of tension between them that he had to escape. Obviously, that wasn’t the situation- it couldn’t be the situation. If he and Sebastian were going to be friends, it needed to be okay for them to hang out in private.
So he agreed to these offers without hesitation and spent most of their time together trying to avoid Sebastian’s sharp green eyes from meeting with his.
“You seem a little on edge today,” Sebastian pointed out one afternoon while the two of them sat playing chess near the dorm room window. The low sunlight of the late autumnal afternoon fell across the board and the chess pieces, casting rather large, majestic shadows across the bed and floor.
“I guess I am,” Blaine replied with a chuckle, assuming Sebastian had picked up rather quickly on several of the factors weighing heavily in his mind.
“Don’t be. We’re supposed to be relaxing and having fun right now, aren’t we?”
Blaine’s gaze drifted to his lap. Before he could come up with some kind of reply, Sebastian spoke again.
“And don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding eye-contact with me. You haven’t looked me in the eye in, like, a week.”
The natural response for Blaine was to do just that, and when he did look up and make the contact that was requested he was immediately reminded why it was something he been keeping himself from doing.
From the day they met, Sebastian’s gaze had been anything but unnoticeable. It had gotten Blaine’s attention almost immediately, the way it stuck on him without ever straying and ravished him completely. It also seemed to have the power to pry into his thoughts, to read what he was feeling and thinking without ever needing to ask.
It both fascinated and terrified him.
“What’s wrong?” Sebastian asked after a time, though the slight smirk on his face seemed to indicate he was already well aware of the answer.
Blaine faltered.
“Sebastian…please understand that I like you a lot and I really appreciate our friendship…”
“But…” Sebastian offered.
“But…I don’t think this is right. I don’t think we should be seeing each other like this.”
Sebastian cocked his head. “Why not? There’s nothing wrong with two friends playing chess.”
“Yes, but Kurt doesn’t know I’ve been meeting you like this and if he did, I don’t think he’d be comfortable with it.
“So?” Sebastian chuckled. “Like I said, you’re not doing anything wrong. You can’t deny yourself friends just because your boyfriend is paranoid.”
“No, I guess you’re right…” Blaine agreed, clearly unconvinced.
“Of course, maybe it’s not Kurt that’s the problem here…”
Blaine both detested and appreciated Sebastian’s gifted insight and he was torn between those two as he continued onward with his theory.
“Maybe it’s you. Could it be that there is something scandalous about these meetings? Could it be something you’re feeling that’s letting you know hanging out with me isn’t entirely innocent?”
Blaine faltered, once again endeavoring to look anywhere that wasn’t in the general direction of the boy sitting across from him.
Mentally, he continued to fight to convince himself that wasn’t the case, but even he knew, in some dark recess that extended past his naiveté and delusion, that it very much was.
Before he could fully process what was happening, Sebastian had risen and come over to kneel down at his feet.
“We both knew this was inevitable,” he whispered, sounding uncharacteristically soothing. “You can pretend for your own sake that this was always a purely innocent set up, but we both know better, don’t we?”
Blaine couldn’t keep back the tears that now pressed against his eyelids.
“I love Kurt,” he insisted, not entirely sure who, out of the two of them, he was trying to convince. “I can’t hurt him.”
Sebastian’s thumb caught his tears as well as his jaw, the latter of which he began to cradle in his hands.
“Kurt doesn’t have to know.”
And with that, Sebastian brought their mouths together. Blaine did not, could not, and would not fight him, for as wrong as the passionate lip locking was, it felt completely right- more so than any kiss he had ever shared with Kurt. Theirs were sweet and innocent and sparse, even when they were intimate.
Sebastian, on the other hand, kissed Blaine as if he couldn’t get enough of him, as if he might disappear completely if he didn’t express how much he utterly desired him. He kissed him like he had never been before, and he tasted like a bittersweet mixture of espresso and turbinado sugar.
Blaine didn’t want to pull away when Sebastian kissed him. He didn’t want to stop Sebastian’s hands from undoing the buttons on his sweater, from pulling down the zipper on his khakis and he didn’t want to stop his own hands from doing the same to Sebastian’s clothes. He didn’t want to stop when the both of them fell haphazardly on the bed, when they gripped and pulled and clawed at each other desperately as they made love.
Blaine didn’t put an end to it until they were finished, lying in a cold sweat and Sebastian had gone to sleep. Only then did he rise, re-clothe himself and leave with a churning nausea in the pit of his stomach.
But at that point, it was already far too late.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The cool, dry fall air wafted through his damp hair as he made his way across the Shawnee High football field, clutching his bag in one hand and his car keys in the other.
“Good blocking out there, Karofsky!” Coach Gore called out to him from where he stood near the stands.
He waved slightly and yelled back, “Thanks, Coach!”
He didn’t want to be smug about it, but he was pretty well aware of how good his performance had been during the just-finished game. He hadn’t really realized how much of a distraction his paranoia had been until he had gone to a new school where no one really knew him and his reasons for being constantly on edge were completely removed. People were still homophobic assholes here, just as they would be at any small town high school, but to them he wasn’t the douchebag who bullied a gay kid he had a crush on or the members of the Glee club that kid was in. He wasn’t the guy who ran away from prom after being completely humiliated by his class.
Here, he was just Dave, the new guy who was tall and big and therefore a pretty good right guard. He made a point of being generally cordial and nice with people. He made sure to smile a lot more since it had been pointed out to him several times that he had a nice one and looked much more attractive when he did, and thus had already amounted a pretty close group of friends.
What was even better -and some undeserved gift from the gods, he was sure- was the fact that he hadn’t entirely lost his roots to his old school. The person he had come to consider his closest friend over the summer now waited for him near the fence, her hands shoved in the pockets of her McKinley High letterman. He was looking forward to telling her about his ever so slowly blossoming friendship with another McKinley High student, one that he had been hoping to bond with for a criminally long time.
“God, finally!” Santana cried out. “I was starving over here. Dios, Karofsky, you take longer to shower than any girl I’ve ever known.”
He linked arms with her and quickly pecked her cheek.
“Good to see you too, Tana. What did you think of me out there?”
She shrugged. “You’ve definitely gotten better.”
He smiled, nodding his head. “Coach seems to think so too. I dunno, I just feel a lot better these days. I guess it’s affecting my performance.”
Santana pulled closer to him for warmth against the late November air as they made their way to his truck. Tucking her coat in tighter she said with a grin,
“And you’re smiling like a damn fool every time I look at you. That’s definitely the look of someone who’s finally getting it regular. Are you meeting men aplenty at that hideous bar of yours?”
Dave laughed and shook his head. He was most definitely still a virgin and though men were fairly friendly to him at the bar, he had never so much as kissed one. There was only one boy he had run into at the bar, in fact, who could elicit such a response just by chatting with him. He intended to gush to Santana all about that and the fact that they were now talking over facebook IM during lunch. She was a much better conversation partner when she had food in her system anyway.
So he derailed the focus to her as they climbed into his truck and made their way to Sonic. She whined all the way about the latest Glee drama, which as of now included her leaving the club altogether and starting a new one with a group of wayward, but very talented girls. Dave made a joke about how distracted she must be with all of those short skirts and low cleavages around her all the time and she slapped him on the arm accordingly.
It was only when they were parked and waiting for their food that Santana lounged back on the seat and studied him with a smirk.
“But seriously,” she said, poking him slightly in the side. “What has made you so stupidly happy lately? Never without that ridiculous smirk, I swear.”
He laughed a little to himself and bit his bottom lip, readying himself to defy her misconceptions of just how ridiculous he could get.
“And now you’re blushing!” she exclaimed. “Who is wielding this power over you?”
“I didn’t tell you who I ran into at Scandals a week or two ago, did I?” he grinned.
She shook her head, looking intrigued.
“Kurt.”
Santana began cackling hysterically. “I fucking knew it!”
“I didn’t even tell you what happened!” he protested over her loud giggles.
“What? Did you slip him the hot beef injection?” she asked, mimicking the exact intonation of Judd Nelson in The Breakfast Club.
He blushed deeper and shook his head insistently.
“God, no. We just talked for a bit, and it was nice. It was nice, Tana.”
Santana ‘oohed’ facetiously, but Dave ignored her.
“I saw him when he first came in, but as usual he was sort of stuck on gel-cap’s hip, so I kinda just laid low for a while. But then, to the surprise of fucking no one, gel-cap went off with the bar’s resident whore and started dancing up on him. He just fucking left Kurt at the bar to grind his ass up against another guy. Right in front of him. What the fuck is that shit, really?”
“That’s the world being cruel and unfair.” Santana sighed.
“Yeah, well it worked out alright because I got an opportunity to talk to him alone. I just went for it, scared as fuck, knowing that he was bound to toss his drink in my face or ream me out or something. But none of that happened. He talked to me like I was an old friend or something. It was weird, but really nice. Later, I got a notification that he wanted to add me on facebook.”
“Like, oh em gee, gurl-fran.” Santana squealed mockingly.
Dave rolled his eyes. “You’re not cute.”
“Uh, no, I’m fucking adorable and you know it.”
“Anyway, we’ve been talking pretty regularly on IM. It’s nothing serious, just sort of…”
“Nice?” Santana offered tiredly.
Dave laughed. “Yeah. Nice.”
“Listen, mi querido, as cute as it is that you’re this in love with ladypants, please don’t get so carried away with this little crush that you forget he has a boyfriend- a boyfriend who is not like you by any stretch of the imagination.”
“I know he has a boyfriend,” Dave sighed, absentmindedly rubbing a spot on his steering wheel with his thumb. “And I’m not stupid enough to think he’d ever look at me the way he looks at Bland. It’s just kinda nice that he gives me the time of day now, instead of not knowing I exist or wanting me to die or whatever.”
“I mean, it’s not like there aren’t other cute boys out there who would fuck you. Kurt’s just one guy out of many.”
Dave nodded and put on a reassuring smile as he allowed their conversation to deviate to other completely unrelated things.
But he didn’t agree with Santana’s last claim and it did nothing to reassure him. Maybe to her Kurt was just another guy, a dime a dozen among effeminate, fashionable twinks. And, no, even with the growing knowledge Dave was getting of gay lifestyles and even with all the gay guys he had met in the span of time he had been at Scandals, he still could not say for sure that there was not a million other guys like Kurt. Maybe they lived in San Francisco or something, what did he know?
What he was sure of, however, was that Kurt enchanted him the way no other guy had before- not any of the cute guys at the bar that had flirted with him, not any of the secret crushes he’d nursed in the past (including one on Finn for a time, the knowledge of which he would take to his grave), not even any celebrities he fantasized about, like Ryan Gosling. Kurt had a certain way of moving and walking and talking- graceful and precise, and when he made his way down the hall he was like some sort of fashionable gazelle. Even when Dave caught sight of him in the admittedly grungy bar that Scandals is, lounging angrily with his lean legs crossed over one another, leather boots up to the knee and straw of his fruity clutched between his full lips, he somehow made the decorum and atmosphere around him that much more elegant, just by being there. Then again, Dave often had a hard time focusing on anything else when Kurt was in his vicinity, so it might have just been his eyes playing tricks on him.
But as gorgeous as Kurt was, it was that sweet and sour personality of his that had advanced Dave’s feelings for him from frustrated lust to infatuation to something that he could only characterize as a really, really strong crush. Kurt was most definitely a bitch, snippy and accustom to getting his way, which Dave both admired and found endearing. Yet, he was also surprisingly forgiving and had a soft, caring side that, when accessed, was comfortingly warm. That was not to mention that he was intelligent and had wit so sharp it could cut glass.
Kurt was just everything and Dave knew somehow he wasn’t ever going to meet anyone else quite like him. Maybe that was for the best.
But it didn’t change the fact that he felt the almost irrepressible urge to punch Blaine in the face for even giving another guy the time of day when he had someone like Kurt. Dave knew that were Kurt his -in some odd, bizarro universe in which up was down- he would never, for a second, have to second guess Dave’s love for him. The whole cheesy thing about only having eyes for one person? Yeah, that would definitely be the case, because no one else held a candle to Kurt in Dave’s mind.
Kurt deserved someone to love him like that, Dave knew, but like he had assured Santana, he wasn’t delusional enough to think that someone could ever be him.
They would only ever be friends, Dave was certain, but it was more than enough. -----------------------------------------------------------------