The Bucket List: Chapter Five
Title: The Bucket List 5/?
Author: pen_traveler
Fandom: Glee
Rating: R
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, Max Adler would be a regular by now.
Summary: In the days following On My Way, Dave and Kurt reevaluate the goals in their lives and vow to help each other achieve them. "Fancy, come on. We didn't come all the way to New York City for you to back out now. We're going to the top of the Empire State Building, whether it breaks off and we plunge to our deaths or not."
Author's Note: I've decided to say that The Bucket List is offically AU from Choke on.
"Do you see her?"
Kurt glanced over at Dave and shot him a long-suffering look. His friend had been speaking in stage-whispers since they had entered the establishment fifteen minutes ago afraid that, despite the large crowd and almost deafening noise, anyone might overhear their incriminating conversation and rush to save Kari from the Big Bad Gays. Kurt had tried pointing out the ridiculousness of this thought-process, but when Dave's only response had been to blink twice and turn away, he had to assume that his arguments had gone in one ear and out the other.
"No," he whispered back, smirking in spite of himself. "Not yet." Of course, there were about forty-thousand people milling around the coffeehouse, so he wasn't sure if he should blame himself.
"Well if it isn't David Karofsky and his little girly man-friend?"
The voice was coming from behind them, but Kurt was sure of what he would see even before he turned. Blond hair, a stocky build not unlike the young man standing to his right, icy blue eyes. He would have been gorgeous if it wasn't for the huge douchebag aspect of his personality that made Kurt's tiny hands curl into fists as though they had minds of their own.
Kurt stole a quick look at Dave, who had gone ashen. His jaw was set, his eyebrows furrowed together, and God, he looked so small that it took every ounce of Kurt's self-control to swallow back tears of frustration. It wasn't right, the power this kid had over Dave, who had worked so hard, who had overcome so much just to be able to go out in public with Kurt without checking over his shoulder every three minutes. And this guy, this Nick, could just swoop in, and screw everything up without even trying.
"Karofsky, I'm speaking to you!" Suddenly Nick was standing in front of them, looking deeply amused, as though it was just so hilarious how his actions had driven Dave to try to take his own life. Kurt's eyes narrowed as it hit him: he could blame himself until he was blue in the face, but Nick was the one who had outed Dave, who had shared his secret as though it were an embarrassing piece of gossip. As though Dave had something to be ashamed of. It was the kid standing in front of him that was the reason Dave's mother thought he had a disease.
Kurt went to take a step forward, driven by something he couldn't identify, but he had failed to take into account how well Dave had gotten at reading him. The former jock moved quickly, and placed himself between Kurt and Nick before Kurt had even fully formed the thought.
"Dude, just get the fuck away," Dave snapped with more venom in his voice than Kurt had ever heard before.
Nick threw his hands up, palms out, but the arrogant grin sketched across his fair features spoke volumes as to how seriously he had taken Dave's outburst. Namely, not much. "Easy, man, I'm just joking."
"Well, I've never really appreciated your particular sense of humor."
"It's an acquired taste. Like coffee." Nick cocked his head to the side. "Or dick down your throat."
Dave didn't answer, but even if he had, Kurt wouldn't have heard. His heart hammered frantically against his ribcage, his blood racing in his ears. White-hot hatred seeped from every pore in Kurt's body and as he took a deep breath to steady his trembling hands, he saw more than heard the next word on Nick's lips.
"Fag."
Kurt didn't have a chance to think, he didn't pause to consider the consequences. Before Dave could stop him, he darted out from behind the bigger boy and launched himself at Nick, his tiny fists swinging with as much force as he could muster.
The sounds of the resulting CRACK echoed through the Starbucks the moment his right hand connected with Nick's left eye. He watched almost outside of himself as Nick stumbled backwards and bumped into a barista carrying a large tray of caramel macchiatos. As the drinks tumbled down around Kari, Kurt felt a firm hand clamp on his shoulder, and steer him out the door.
*
"Have you completely lost your mind," Dave demanded the moment they were safely inside the truck.
Kurt shot him a frown from the passenger side. "Do you really need to start the lecture right now? My hand is killing me."
"Of course it's killing you! You punched . . . I seriously cannot believe you did that. Nick's fucking huge!"
"I know," Kurt snapped, anger slipping into his retort. "I get it, it was stupid."
"You're damn right it was stupid," Dave returned sharply. "It's not like I would have actually let him lay a hand on you, but my dad isn't exactly understanding about violence after everything that happed at McKinley!"
"Well excuse me if I don't consider homophobic slurs appropriate conversation-"
"Okay," Dave interrupted, giving an unexpected chuckle, and he raised his hands up in surrender. "Okay, I'm sorry. I know you were only trying to help."
"I was." Kurt stared down at his injured hand as the reality of what he had done began to sink in: he'd hit someone. He'd actually punched Nick in the face, and okay, so his hand was probably broken, but . . . But it felt kind of good, to just react for once, instead of being the cool head amid the chaos. He'd never in his life so wanted to cause another person pain, and he tried not to think about Sebastian, a cup full of rock salt, and a damaged eye.
A soft sigh from his left, and Kurt glanced over just in time to see Dave slowly extend a hand of his own, and bring Kurt's injured one closer to him for inspection. Dave's hands were rough from years on the field and in the rink, but gentle, and Kurt's breath caught in his throat when Dave's thumb grazed his wrist.
Dave gave the smaller boy's hand a careful squeeze. "Does that hurt?" He grinned lightly. "You know, more than you would think would be normal?"
Kurt swallowed hard and shook his head, worried that, for whatever reason, his voice would shake.
Dave threaded their fingers together and squeezed again, pressing harder this time. "What about that?"
"No," he whispered.
Kurt wasn't an idiot. He really wasn't. He had known that Sam colored his hair, he'd known that Sebastian had been trying to get into his boyfriend's pants, he'd known that Rachel was wrong about Music of the Night for his NYADA audition. So he knew that holding his friend's hand shouldn't be making his heart race like it was trying to escape from his ribcage, so he made a real attempt at picturing his loving, trusting boyfriend, but having Dave so near made it hard. He refused to wonder why.
"Well, that's good news," Dave murmured a moment later, finally dropping his hand. "Means it's not broken."
"Good."
Dave shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and it was full minute before he cleared his throat, and turned the key. "So, we should probably get back," he said, though it was unclear whether he was talking to himself or Kurt.
"Sounds good," Kurt replied, relieved when his voice came out normal and strong.
"And Kurt?"
"Yes, David?"
"Thanks."
Kurt smiled. "You're welcome."
previous
Author: pen_traveler
Fandom: Glee
Rating: R
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, Max Adler would be a regular by now.
Summary: In the days following On My Way, Dave and Kurt reevaluate the goals in their lives and vow to help each other achieve them. "Fancy, come on. We didn't come all the way to New York City for you to back out now. We're going to the top of the Empire State Building, whether it breaks off and we plunge to our deaths or not."
Author's Note: I've decided to say that The Bucket List is offically AU from Choke on.
"Do you see her?"
Kurt glanced over at Dave and shot him a long-suffering look. His friend had been speaking in stage-whispers since they had entered the establishment fifteen minutes ago afraid that, despite the large crowd and almost deafening noise, anyone might overhear their incriminating conversation and rush to save Kari from the Big Bad Gays. Kurt had tried pointing out the ridiculousness of this thought-process, but when Dave's only response had been to blink twice and turn away, he had to assume that his arguments had gone in one ear and out the other.
"No," he whispered back, smirking in spite of himself. "Not yet." Of course, there were about forty-thousand people milling around the coffeehouse, so he wasn't sure if he should blame himself.
"Well if it isn't David Karofsky and his little girly man-friend?"
The voice was coming from behind them, but Kurt was sure of what he would see even before he turned. Blond hair, a stocky build not unlike the young man standing to his right, icy blue eyes. He would have been gorgeous if it wasn't for the huge douchebag aspect of his personality that made Kurt's tiny hands curl into fists as though they had minds of their own.
Kurt stole a quick look at Dave, who had gone ashen. His jaw was set, his eyebrows furrowed together, and God, he looked so small that it took every ounce of Kurt's self-control to swallow back tears of frustration. It wasn't right, the power this kid had over Dave, who had worked so hard, who had overcome so much just to be able to go out in public with Kurt without checking over his shoulder every three minutes. And this guy, this Nick, could just swoop in, and screw everything up without even trying.
"Karofsky, I'm speaking to you!" Suddenly Nick was standing in front of them, looking deeply amused, as though it was just so hilarious how his actions had driven Dave to try to take his own life. Kurt's eyes narrowed as it hit him: he could blame himself until he was blue in the face, but Nick was the one who had outed Dave, who had shared his secret as though it were an embarrassing piece of gossip. As though Dave had something to be ashamed of. It was the kid standing in front of him that was the reason Dave's mother thought he had a disease.
Kurt went to take a step forward, driven by something he couldn't identify, but he had failed to take into account how well Dave had gotten at reading him. The former jock moved quickly, and placed himself between Kurt and Nick before Kurt had even fully formed the thought.
"Dude, just get the fuck away," Dave snapped with more venom in his voice than Kurt had ever heard before.
Nick threw his hands up, palms out, but the arrogant grin sketched across his fair features spoke volumes as to how seriously he had taken Dave's outburst. Namely, not much. "Easy, man, I'm just joking."
"Well, I've never really appreciated your particular sense of humor."
"It's an acquired taste. Like coffee." Nick cocked his head to the side. "Or dick down your throat."
Dave didn't answer, but even if he had, Kurt wouldn't have heard. His heart hammered frantically against his ribcage, his blood racing in his ears. White-hot hatred seeped from every pore in Kurt's body and as he took a deep breath to steady his trembling hands, he saw more than heard the next word on Nick's lips.
"Fag."
Kurt didn't have a chance to think, he didn't pause to consider the consequences. Before Dave could stop him, he darted out from behind the bigger boy and launched himself at Nick, his tiny fists swinging with as much force as he could muster.
The sounds of the resulting CRACK echoed through the Starbucks the moment his right hand connected with Nick's left eye. He watched almost outside of himself as Nick stumbled backwards and bumped into a barista carrying a large tray of caramel macchiatos. As the drinks tumbled down around Kari, Kurt felt a firm hand clamp on his shoulder, and steer him out the door.
*
"Have you completely lost your mind," Dave demanded the moment they were safely inside the truck.
Kurt shot him a frown from the passenger side. "Do you really need to start the lecture right now? My hand is killing me."
"Of course it's killing you! You punched . . . I seriously cannot believe you did that. Nick's fucking huge!"
"I know," Kurt snapped, anger slipping into his retort. "I get it, it was stupid."
"You're damn right it was stupid," Dave returned sharply. "It's not like I would have actually let him lay a hand on you, but my dad isn't exactly understanding about violence after everything that happed at McKinley!"
"Well excuse me if I don't consider homophobic slurs appropriate conversation-"
"Okay," Dave interrupted, giving an unexpected chuckle, and he raised his hands up in surrender. "Okay, I'm sorry. I know you were only trying to help."
"I was." Kurt stared down at his injured hand as the reality of what he had done began to sink in: he'd hit someone. He'd actually punched Nick in the face, and okay, so his hand was probably broken, but . . . But it felt kind of good, to just react for once, instead of being the cool head amid the chaos. He'd never in his life so wanted to cause another person pain, and he tried not to think about Sebastian, a cup full of rock salt, and a damaged eye.
A soft sigh from his left, and Kurt glanced over just in time to see Dave slowly extend a hand of his own, and bring Kurt's injured one closer to him for inspection. Dave's hands were rough from years on the field and in the rink, but gentle, and Kurt's breath caught in his throat when Dave's thumb grazed his wrist.
Dave gave the smaller boy's hand a careful squeeze. "Does that hurt?" He grinned lightly. "You know, more than you would think would be normal?"
Kurt swallowed hard and shook his head, worried that, for whatever reason, his voice would shake.
Dave threaded their fingers together and squeezed again, pressing harder this time. "What about that?"
"No," he whispered.
Kurt wasn't an idiot. He really wasn't. He had known that Sam colored his hair, he'd known that Sebastian had been trying to get into his boyfriend's pants, he'd known that Rachel was wrong about Music of the Night for his NYADA audition. So he knew that holding his friend's hand shouldn't be making his heart race like it was trying to escape from his ribcage, so he made a real attempt at picturing his loving, trusting boyfriend, but having Dave so near made it hard. He refused to wonder why.
"Well, that's good news," Dave murmured a moment later, finally dropping his hand. "Means it's not broken."
"Good."
Dave shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and it was full minute before he cleared his throat, and turned the key. "So, we should probably get back," he said, though it was unclear whether he was talking to himself or Kurt.
"Sounds good," Kurt replied, relieved when his voice came out normal and strong.
"And Kurt?"
"Yes, David?"
"Thanks."
Kurt smiled. "You're welcome."
previous