Fic: All That I Am/All That I Ever Was, 1/1
Title: Fic: All That I Am/All That I Ever Was, 1/1
Author: knittycat99
Rating: R for mild language and some boy on boy action
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Dave
Genre: romance
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from anything connected to Glee
Author Notes: The 18th part in my Seasons Change Verse. Earlier installments can be found HERE.
Summary: Spring Break in San Francisco
Word Count: 2,915
Kurt’s never been drunk, and he doesn’t let himself get drunk when he goes out with John after turning his project in. He does, however, get pleasantly buzzed. It’s an odd feeling, and he’s not sure he likes it, but it dulls his excitement and nerves and the sheer wanting of being less than 24 hours away from seeing Dave for the first time in three and a half months. It also helps him sleep, which is a wonderful gift after what feels like months of restless nights.
He’s up early the next morning and on the road to Providence for his two layover trip to San Francisco and Dave. He tries not to think too hard about the short story he emailed to John’s publisher friend, or about the grad school acceptances that should be arriving in the next two weeks. Kurt hates being in limbo, just like he hates stress. His life since Thanksgiving has been nothing but both of those things.
It all disappears when he rounds the corner out of the terminal and into baggage claim at SFO to see Dave, hanging back on the edge of the crowd and shifting anxiously from foot to foot, still dressed in his khakis, button down, and tie because he clearly came out to the airport right from work. Kurt beelines for him, drops his messenger bag on the ground and wraps Dave up in his arms. He can feel Dave’s adrenaline-fueled jitters melt away, and they just cling to each other in silence for a minute. It’s new and familiar at the same time, and Kurt has missed it. The baggage claim is teeming with people, and noisy, and Kurt barely hears Dave’s whisper of let me take you home, but it’s enough to spur him into action. He leaves his messenger bag with Dave and joins the other people from his flight to wait for his bag, and then Dave escorts him onto the tram and walks him through buying a pass for the BART train that will take them to Berkeley. When they’re finally side by side in a plastic train seat, Kurt’s suitcase between their legs on the floor and Kurt pulled back against the warmth of Dave’s chest, Kurt finds his voice.
“I have news.”
“You turned in your project yesterday. How’d it come out?”
“It looks great. But it was after I turned it in. I guess John has a friend who works in publishing.”
“And?”
Kurt feels his body relaxing from the combination of Dave and the motion of the train. “She called, and asked if I could send her a sample of my stuff.”
“And you did?”
“I did. I haven’t heard anything yet, though. How about you?” He rests his hand on Dave’s knee. He knows Dave’s job search has been a struggle because it’s so early still. And it’s hard to know what to say because Kurt’s still in limbo.
“I really just want to get through the semester. Can we not talk about it right now?”
Dave sounds exhausted, and Kurt wants to know everything, but the train isn’t the place. So he just feels the motion of the train and listens to Dave breathe, and he knows with absolute certainty that no plans for next year matter besides being with Dave.
*****
Dave has had moments of wondering whether Thanksgiving was all a dream, but now he knows he’s been nothing but awake for all these months. Being apart was hard, and Dave is kind of surprised at how easy being together comes back to him. It’s the simple things that come from being Kurt’s friend before they even kissed the first time, from dancing together and writing letters and the endless, endless phone calls. He knows what it means when Kurt’s eyes go cold, or when his laugh is nervous rather than clear. He knows how to respond when Kurt leans into him on the train, and exactly the right words to use to reassure Kurt that nobody will care if they hold hands on the walk back to Dave’s dorm. Just as he knows that when they’re finally inside, when Kurt presses full against Dave and kisses him long and slow, there’s going to be talking tonight.
First there’s a shower, and Dave has never been so happy to have his own bathroom because it means he can climb in with Kurt and press soft kisses down his wet neck and soapy back, and they can both enjoy the twin luxuries of hot water and busy hands to take some of the edge off of their separation. Then there are soft sleep pants and t-shirts, and Dave orders out for Chinese because Kurt looks (and Dave feels) too wasted to go out. Neither of them say much, which Dave just accepts because there is going to be so much talking later, because he has to tell Kurt about his student teaching, and an odd lead he’s following for something that may turn into a job, and he absolutely wants to know more about this publisher, and what it might mean for Kurt.
He most emphatically doesn’t want to talk about Iowa or New York.
When they’ve finished off the chicken lo mein and the pork fried rice, and shared an order of teriyaki beef skewers, Dave takes the trash down to the kitchenette and returns to his room to find Kurt stretched out on the bed. He opens his arms to Dave, who goes into them willingly, and every breath feels like being home.
Kurt’s words tickle at the nape of his neck. “It’s always been like this, with you. Easy.”
Dave nods. “That’s because we were friends first. I think that helps.”
“Mmmm. Tell me about your student teaching.”
It’s something they don’t always talk about on the phone because, like Kurt’s project, it’s infinitely complicated. There are the politics, and the endless amounts of paperwork, and the weekly class on Monday nights with the other student teaching candidates that more often than not ends up in a bar with them all sharing horror stories over cheap tap beer. But Dave secretly loves it, and that’s what he tells Kurt. He talks about the kids, and the satisfaction of it all, and the odd camaraderie he feels with the other teachers at the 6-12 magnet school he’s been placed at. When he’s talked about all the easy stuff, he takes a breath. Kurt stills behind him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Lies, Dave. We promised each other.”
“I’m not lying. It really might be nothing.”
“But it also might be something, right?”
“Maybe.”
“Where?”
Dave sighs, because it’s all this fragile pyramid of a teacher who has a friend who knows someone who’s a principal at a school that’s being redesigned, and Dave doesn’t want it to be too real, or to want it too much in case it doesn’t happen. “Denver.”
“Like Colorado?”
“Exactly like Colorado.”
Kurt nudges Dave, and they shift positions so that Dave has Kurt wrapped up now.
“Tell me about it. The school and the job.” Kurt doesn’t sound put out, just curious, so Dave talks about the research he’s done about the school (a revamped 6-12 public school that’s going to have a strong arts focus and that needs teachers willing to work in an underserved community), and the city (pretty liberal, he says, and over 300 days of sunshine a year). He’s even started looking at apartments, and Kurt perks up at that. Dave wakes his laptop up, and pulls it over to the bed so he can show Kurt some pictures of the cute area called Capitol Hill.
“How much of a sure thing is this job?”
“It’s like a game of telephone. I mean, I’ve applied through the district, but I’ve talked to this woman once, the one who’s going to be the principal, and she liked me. I know nothing, though, and probably won’t for a while still.”
“Okay.”
“So talk to me about Iowa and New York.”
Kurt reply is strained. “What about them?”
“I thought you didn’t want an MFA?”
“I don’t think I do, but I wanted to have my bases covered. You know, in case my project was crap or whatever.”
“And now? With the publisher?” Dave knows he’s pushing, but he can feel Kurt biting back what he really wants, and the fact that Kurt does it as easy as breathing kills Dave.
“Now . . . I don’t want to want it too much, you know?”
“I do.” And Dave does. That’s how he feels about Denver, like it’s nothing he ever thought he wanted but now it’s the only thing he wants, and he can’t even blink to see a different future. “I think you should, though. Want it. I know you do.”
“I do. More than I want another piece of paper with another degree.”
“So go after it. And even if it doesn’t happen with this publisher doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen with a different one. Fight for it, Kurt.”
“If the job in Denver doesn’t come through, where do you want to go?”
“Will you laugh at me if I tell you I think I want to move there anyway?”
“And do what?”
“Work. This job isn’t the only one out there, it’s just the only one I have a personal lead on. And if I can’t get a full-time job, I can always substitute.”
“You always have been a man with a plan.”
Dave shivers as Kurt runs a finger lightly up the length of his arm. “Like you’re not.”
“Yeah. Well. So. Denver, huh?”
“What do you think?”
“As long as there’s somewhere for me to work and somewhere for me to write, anywhere you are will be home.”
They’ve always talked around the commitment part of their relationship, and Dave is a little surprised to hear Kurt give in so easily. Dave has spent so much of the winter preparing himself to follow Kurt that he never really expected Kurt to be the one following him. The thought kind of leaves him breathless. He squeezes Kurt’s hand. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. If I really decide that I want an MFA I can defer for a year, or reapply in the fall to other places.”
And that’s when Dave finally understands that Kurt only applied to those programs because it was expected of him. “You really just want to write.” Dave doesn’t make it a question. He already knows the answer before Kurt nods against his chest.
“I do. So let’s do that. Go to Denver, together, and make a future.”
“Good. Now, no more talking about any of this for the rest of break. Please.” Dave lets his voice drift into wanting as he pulls Kurt closer and lets a hand toy with the hem of his t-shirt.
“Don’t worry.” Kurt’s chuckle is warm with affection as he turns in Dave’s arms. “I have plenty of other plans for tonight.”
*****
Kurt had lots of things he wanted to do, but they don’t really make it out of bed on Saturday. Or Sunday. Kurt can’t help but laugh about it, because it seems so cliché, but it’s been months, and neither of them have been taking care of themselves, so he figures that a weekend of lazy sex and lots of sleep might be exactly what he and Dave need.
*****
When they finally do emerge from Dave’s room on Monday morning, it’s into a whirlwind of activity. Dave’s spent four years avoiding the big tourist things because he’s been saving them to share with Kurt. So they take in Fisherman’s Wharf and Alcatraz, and Fort Point and Golden Gate Park. Dave also takes Kurt to the little places loves, the hidden coffee shop he stumbled into in the Haight one weekend that has the most decadent pastries, the bookstore in the Castro, the tiny movie theater that shows double features of black and white classics paired with edgy indie films.
On Friday night they go dancing, to the club Dave likes that plays ‘80’s dance remixes. It makes them both think of that underage club, the one that got them through senior year, and Dave realizes as they’re wrapped together on the dance floor that they haven’t actually been dancing together as a couple. That makes Dave feel free, allows him to let his hands and body be slightly less than decent, and he’s not surprised when Kurt responds in kind. He’s also not surprised when Kurt presses against him, and keeps pressing against him until they’re in a slightly darkened corner of the floor and Kurt’s mouth is hot against the sweat-cooled skin of Dave’s neck and Dave can’t think of anything but getting the both of them back to his room. Instead, he bursts through the haze of need and pulls himself away from the dip of Kurt’s mouth and the sway of his hips and drags them both back onto the dance floor. He’s feeling light and loose and more than a little spectacularly gay because he’s showing off his boyfriend for all those Friday night boys he never followed home, and sue him but he wants to dance some more. He snakes an arm around Kurt’s waist and pulls him close so they can grind together, and laughs in Kurt’s ear when he hears Kurt’s disappointed words before they get caught in the music. I would have made it worth your while.
Dave lowers his tone, so Kurt has no choice but to hear his reply. “Just what kind of a girl do you think I am, Hummel?”
And then it’s Kurt’s turn to laugh.
*****
They’re drunk on each other when they stumble back to Dave’s room well past 2 am, and Dave starts the shower up right away because they’re both hot and sweaty and a little street-grimy. They’re rough with each other in the shower, because everything Kurt started on the dance floor had to hold through two walks, a cable car, and the BART, but it feels so good to demand and be met, and to give right back. Besides, Kurt knows there’ll be time for gentleness later.
It’s their last night together, and they don’t sleep. They have snippets of conversation in between memorizing each other, and as they make their sleepy way to the BART and SFO in the morning, Kurt can’t help but think the first rain since his arrival is fitting. He tries not to cling too hard when he has to leave Dave at the security screening, but they’ve done this before and this time will be the last time.
Kurt stares out the window for most of the flight, the feeling of Dave’s hands and mouth and body seared into his brain. When he lands in Providence it’s late and dark; he snags his luggage and buys a large iced coffee with obscene amounts of cream and sugar from the Dunkin’ Donuts in the baggage claim before making his way to the parking lot. He texts Dave that he’s landed and on his way back to New Haven, and then cranks his window down and his music up for the drive.
The roads are pretty empty; Carrie Underwood and Faith Hill on the country station he can’t seem to lose even after he crosses the state line end up being good company, and it’s just shy of midnight when Kurt parks the Navigator in the Calhoun parking lot. The building looks pretty empty, though there are a few faint lights in scattered windows. Kurt’s own suite is dark and empty; Sara won’t be back until Sunday evening. He leaves his bag in the common room and takes a fast shower before booting up his computer and settling into his bed to email first Dave and then his dad that he’s gotten home okay. And then he scrolls through the messages that have accumulated in his Yale inbox over the past week. Nothing much, a few automated reminders about the lottery for extra graduation tickets and nominations for graduation speakers, and some silly things from the guys in the Duke’s Men who went to party locales for break. And there, the newest one with a timestamp of barely an hour ago, from Erica Butler at Kensington Publishing.
Kurt-
I loved your story, and I spoke with John the other day and he sent me a copy of your novella. He said you’re out of town, but I need you to get in touch with me when you return from your trip. I can’t make any firm promises, but I’d love to work with you a little further.
-Erica
No. Fucking. Way.
He calls Dave, who’s clearly been sleeping, and reads him the email. They dissect every word, and Kurt promises to call him the next day after he talks with this Erica Butler. Kurt falls silent then, not wanting to say goodbye or give in to the sleep that’s threatening to pull him under, but Dave’s voice is smooth in his ear.
“Fight for it, K. You can do it. Now, go to sleep.”
Kurt hangs up first, something he doesn’t usually do, and plugs his computer back in on his desk before crawling into bed. He sleeps with the light on, and with his email still open, just to make sure when he wakes up that the whole thing isn’t a crazy dream.