Fic: Fidelity - Chapter 1
Summary: That first time they go to Scandals, about the only thing that doesn't end up in disaster for Blaine is when he asks Dave Karofsky to tutor him in math. An unlikely friendship forms among Dave, Blaine and Kurt. AU from 3.05, but with many canon elements through the end of season 3. Additional author's notes, etc. at the Prologue, which you can get to by clicking on "prologue" in my taglist in the sidebar.
Livejournal | Dreamwidth | AO3 | Tumblr
---
Chapter 1
The first time Dave goes to a gay bar, he's already a little drunk.
It's July and the summer heat is unbearable and everything is unbearable.
So he takes a sip out of every bottle in his parents' liquor cabinet, calls a taxi, and tells the driver to drop him off at a McDonald's three blocks away from Scandals.
He takes a circuitous path to the bar, walking into the parking lot from the back where it abuts a garden center. He looks over his shoulder a lot and never removes his baseball cap, even though his hair is soaked through from the humidity.
When he gets to the front door, he goes on automatic pilot. He's been to regular bars before with Azimio, so he knows the routine: Just act like you belong there. So he does. He shows his fake ID to the bouncer and heads to the bar, sitting down at one of the swinging stools like his name's written on it. He asks for a pale ale and plops down a five without being told the charge, then stares at the Cincinnati Reds playing on TV. That's his first nice surprise of the evening - he totally thought if there were any TVs here at all, they'd be playing Lady Gaga videos on continuous loop.
His second nice surprise is when a tall, sandy-haired guy who can't be much older than him leans across the bar and orders a pitcher.
"You go to Rhodes State?" the guy says when the bartender turns away toward the tap.
It takes a moment to realize that the guy is talking to him. "Um, yeah," Dave says. "You?"
"Nope. I go to school in Columbus. Home for the summer." He reaches out his hand. "Sebastian Smythe."
Dave shakes it. "Dave."
"Well, Dave, we've got a vicious game of shuffleboard going on over there." Sebastian cocks his head over his shoulder. "Want to join us?"
The game of shuffleboard really isn't that vicious, although Sebastian says cutting things every time someone makes a mistake. The insults are smart and witty and remind Dave of Kurt, except there's something vaguely meaner about the way Sebastian talks. Dave can't quite put his finger on how.
He finishes his bottle of beer and pours himself more from the pitcher and Sebastian keeps coming back with new pitchers and somewhere in the evening one of the guys christens Dave "Bearcub," but by then Dave is so drunk he doesn't really understand the explanation of his name and just goes with it. It sounds sweet on their lips - except for Sebastian's, where it sounds kind of mocking - and for some reason that leads to Dave liking Sebastian best of all, and when the game's done he takes Sebastian's hand and pulls him out to the dance floor even though it's disco and that's really, really gay. Dave doesn't care about the music. Mostly he just wants to be near another guy and move against him, and Sebastian is the one he wants right now because he likes the way that Sebastian looks down his nose at Dave even when their faces are on the same level.
Somewhere in there, Dave gets his first real kiss from a guy, but he’s so far gone he hardly even registers what it feels like other than good and finally.
They make out in the middle of the dance floor, and then in a dark corner, and then outside in the horrible humid air, and then in Sebastian's car, where no matter how high Sebastian cranks up the air conditioning, the air is still stifling.
"You're voracious," says Sebastian, and Dave feels a hand on his cock and suddenly, he feels very, very sober.
"Um, not that," Dave says, although he can't for the life of him figure out why.
"Wait - are you a virgin?"
Dave shrugs and shuffles back toward the door.
"No worries," Sebastian holds up his hands in reassurance. "That's what I specialize in."
Dave opens the door and falls out backward.
Sebastian crawls out after him. "OK. Suit yourself. The night is young; I can still find someone else to screw."
Dave spends the next hour vomiting in the restroom, the guy who christened him "Bearcub" helping him clean himself off after every hurl. When they emerge, Sebastian is tongue-fucking with some Donald Glover lookalike next to the pool tables.
Dave walks the five miles home.
*
Despite the semi-disaster of his first time at Scandals, Dave keeps going back. There's nowhere else to go to.
If he's not feeling very confident, he checks for Sebastian's car in the parking lot and leaves if it's there. But when he’s fortified with bravado (it usually comes in the form of a pre-bar gulp of whiskey), he goes in whether Sebastian’s car is there or not.
He goes straight to the pool tables to play with the folks he's started to call "the Bearcub Posse" in his head, and avoids looking in the dark corners where Sebastian does most of his making out - except sometimes when he's drunk and horny, and Sebastian is there and unoccupied, he walks straight over to him and lets Sebastian insult him for five minutes. Then, they start kissing.
It always ends the same way: Sebastian starts moving them closer and closer to the front door, and Dave digs his feet more and more heavily into the floor until Sebastian finally says in disgust, "Fine, have it your way. We're done for tonight."
Dave doesn't know why he always stops things from going farther. He wishes he wouldn't.
*
Dave never expected to see Kurt at Scandals.
He never expected to see him anywhere, actually, except maybe in 11 years at McKinley's Class of 2012 reunion, which Dave will go to if he's brave enough by then, and which he really hopes that Kurt will go to, just to throw his success in the face of all his mediocre classmates - including Dave himself.
But Kurt is here, now. And he looks so much - what is it? - older? more confident? more comfortable in his skin? The way his hips tilt forward with each step, calling out, Here we are. Too bad if you want us. We're not yours. We belong to him.
The him to which Kurt's hips refer is sauntering in next to Kurt. They pause to take in the dance floor and their arms touch.
Dave would feel a pang of jealousy at that inadvertent intimacy if he were drunk - but he’s sober now, so he won’t allow himself to indulge in it. Because he remembers what that kind of jealousy does to him, the way it makes him spit out nasty words like "buckboy" and shove and fight.
The first time Dave saw Blaine with Kurt, the pain was like a chest spreader flaying his ribcage open. The second time, months later, it was a chef's knife being twisted into his gut. Whenever he passed Kurt's open locker and caught a glimpse of the photo with those jeering eyebrows and lush pink lips, he wanted to throw something.
A couple of times, he did.
As Dave started to change, the roaring flames of jealousy began to die into glowing embers. But it was still there after Kurt returned to McKinley, a little pang of hurt and want every time Kurt mentioned Blaine's name. It was there when Kurt walked into prom with Blaine. Dave wanted to be the one standing beside Kurt at the edge of the dance floor, even if he wouldn't understand half of his color commentary on the outfits.
Later that night, Dave got his chance to stand with Kurt, to touch him without hurting him, to be brave together. And he walked away from it.
After that, after hearing about how Blaine had taken Kurt's hand and twirled him around the dance floor with the eyes of the entire junior class watching, it was hard to feel pained by Blaine's presence in Kurt's life. Blaine was everything that Dave wasn't. He was everything that Kurt needed and deserved.
So tonight, instead of jealousy, Dave lets himself feel a weird sense of pride in Blaine. Because maybe the subtle and seismic changes in the way Kurt holds himself are because of that preppy time-warp weirdo with the sweater-vest and bow tie and polished hair.
Blaine must have figured out how to give Kurt all the things Dave wanted to, but never, never could.
Dave plays his pool game, and he watches. He watches Kurt and Blaine walk right up to Sebastian and tries to ignore the warning sirens that go off in his head. He watches Kurt grab Blaine's hand and saunter them over to the jukebox. He watches Kurt back at the bar, alone, after Sebastian drags Blaine out onto the dance floor.
It's one, two, three songs that Kurt sits alone, staring sometimes blankly, sometimes dejectedly, sometimes with utter contempt at the two boys as he twirls his straw in his drink. Dave thinks about going over there, distracting Kurt - but he's not sure the distraction would make Kurt any less disgruntled than he is right now.
So Dave stays back, keeps playing pool until Kurt's face goes still and icy in that way that Dave has seen before. There's a storm brewing under there, and Kurt is liable to lash out - and if he lashes out at Sebastian, fine; but if he lashes out at Blaine - Dave doesn't want that. He wants the return of the look that was on Kurt's face and in Kurt's hips when he walked into the bar.
"Hey." Dave hands his cue over. "An old friend of mine is here. I'm gonna go say hi."
* * *
Kurt doesn't recognize the voice at first.
Which is really, really surprising, once he realizes who it is. Because Kurt used to be able to recognize that voice from 100 yards away. He'd memorized it in all its variations - whisper, yell, taunt, whine, mumble, laugh - because he never, never wanted it to catch him unaware.
He knows Dave has changed - he saw it happen in front of his own eyes, those two months at the end of the last school year - but he's a little taken aback at how elemental the change really must be if he didn't even recognize Dave's voice.
Or his profile.
It could be because Dave's wearing a baseball cap, which Kurt hasn't seen before. But he thought he'd always remember that tense jaw and get a quiver of pity every time he saw it.
Maybe that's the thing. The jaw isn't tense. Kurt swings on his barstool to get a better look. It's relaxed by a small smile.
Small talk, Kurt tells himself. He's done it dozens of times, walking down the halls with Dave as his detail or sitting in those PFLAG meetings waiting for people to show up - even after Kurt told Dave he didn't have to come anymore, that he wouldn't tell in either case, because Kurt wanted Dave to know that he could finally trust someone.
Small talk - that's where Kurt can start.
So that's what he does. He asks Dave about his new school, and Dave answers vaguely, and then he tells Kurt about "bearcub" being some kind of gay slang - which, okay, Kurt didn't think Dave would ever teach Kurt about anything having to do with being gay.
He’s pondering the best way to incorporate a John Waters reference into his next sentence to prove that he’s still better at being gay than Dave, when Dave interrupts his thoughts. "So is this the point where you judge me?"
Kurt’s heart flinches. "No, as long as you're not beating people up, I'm all for being who you have to be at your own speed." And it's true, kind of. It's what the pragmatic part of him says. The other part - the dreamer - wants Dave to be who he has to be two years ago. It's what he wants from everybody. It's what he wants from himself. Kurt's not the person he needs to be, not completely, not yet - not for himself and not for Blaine.
Kurt looks back over his shoulder at his boyfriend, who's swaying about in his own little world, arms waving and eyes on his own two-stepping toes, as Sebastian butt-bumps some other guy a couple feet away.
"Right now, I'm just trying to get through high school," Dave says.
Me, too, Kurt wants to say, but he doesn't. Everything will be easier when he and Blaine are in New York and married. They'll know each other better then, and Kurt will have money and fame. They'll stop having to worry so much, and making so many mistakes.
Dave raises his bottle to Kurt. "Here's to baby steps."
Kurt clinks his glass against it, repeating the words, and lets his eyes drift back to Blaine. Blaine is raising his eyebrows at him and his shoulders are shimmying and his mouth falls open in a drunken come-hither, and Kurt suddenly wonders if none of this dancing has had anything to do with Sebastian, or if Blaine has been dancing for Kurt this entire time, trying to get Kurt to pay attention.
"Baby steps," Kurt repeats, setting his glass down on the counter. "Thanks, Dave."
Dave's face lights up with those two simple words, and he looks down at his hands with a bashful smile. Kurt feels like he's done his first right thing of the day.
And now for the second right thing. Kurt twirls off the stool and does his best predatory stride toward Blaine, reclaims him with a shoulder-shove to Sebastian, sweeps him away with a shimmy and swerve and spin.
They may both still be virgins but, deep down inside, Kurt knows that few things turn Blaine on quite like Kurt staking his claim.
* * *
Blaine’s world is happy and shiny and beautiful, just like Kurt is beautiful; Kurt who is finally here - with Blaine, touching him, showing Sebastian who he belongs to.
There's been something off about this whole night. Kurt wouldn't come and dance, so Blaine's been dancing near Sebastian and it's just been no fun, not like dancing with Kurt is. Well, shaking his tail at Kurt while Kurt sat at the bar and making eyes at him and doing fancy footwork so Kurt's eyes might be drawn to his naked ankles - that part was fun. Not the rest, though. The rest was off.
But now it's right. Blaine's hands are in Kurt's and they're swaying and jumping together and Sebastian gives up and wanders back to the bar and drags his hands down the broad back of some guy in a jean jacket and baseball cap and the guy turns around and smiles because that's just the way that people react to Sebastian, and wait, hey, "Is that Karofsky?"
Kurt smiles, oh he finally smiles that smile that's like a hundred million tiny white Christmas lights glowing against the snow. "Yup, it's Dave," he says. "I was just talking with him, actually. While you and Sebastian were - "
Oh. Blaine doesn't like the sound of Sebastian's name on Kurt's tongue. It's bitter like unsweetened coffee. No, no, let's forget that name. Let's look into Kurt's eyes and forget all other names. "At Scandals? Did he finally come out?"
"To himself, I guess. To the patrons of this fine establishment." Kurt skirts the room with his electric blue eyes. "To me, more or less. Baby steps."
"Good." Blaine hops a few times - a little unnecessarily for this part of the song, probably, but it's fun and free and Kurt's eyes are holding his, tethering them together. "Now we won't have to shove each other anymore, me and Karofsky. I mean, right? He won't have to pretend to hate me for being gay?"
Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine's shoulders and sways. "Well, I think that's been the case for about six months now. It's been a while since you two were in a fight."
"Good. I don't like having enemies. Especially gay enemies. We can be friends now. We can be best friends and talk about football and, and - what else would I talk about with Karofsky?"
"He likes math."
"I don't," says Blaine, but he's sure he can find something else in common with Karofsky - he can find lots of things in common with just about everyone he meets. It's one of his talents. "Hey! Maybe he can tutor me."
"Maybe," Kurt smiles and Blaine thinks it's one of Kurt's happy-I-love-you smiles, but sometimes Kurt's unreadable, and he doesn't like Blaine being friends with Sebastian, so maybe he doesn't want Blaine to be friends with Karofsky either. Well, Blaine isn't going to make the same mistake twice.
"Wait, is it okay if I become friends with Karofsky? I mean, I assumed, because you kind of seemed to develop a soft spot for him last year, you know, after the PFLAG stuff and all - " Blaine's not sure if soft spot is the right word, but his brain is too excited and happy to be able to judge things like that, and he's not sure how else to summarize Kurt becoming a little protective of Karofsky, explaining over and over why Blaine shouldn't be hostile to him anymore, shouldn't worry about Kurt being alone with him when they planned those PFLAG meetings.
"Of course it's okay, Blaine. He could use a friend." Kurt's face is warm and smiley and one eyebrow arches in amused curiosity. Oh, that look makes Blaine's stomach delightfully weak and flippy and his lips tingly and his pelvis flushed with amorous craving.
Blaine loves Kurt. He loves him so fucking much. He wants to kiss him. He should kiss him. Yes. He kisses him.
It's a yay-fantastic play of tug and linger and worship. Kurt lets out a little cat-moan and Blaine unravels with oh that he can make Kurt feel this way and oh that he wants to make Kurt feel this way forever. Kurt's hand on the nape of his neck, pulling him in, yes he wants to drown in Kurt, because drowning in Kurt wouldn't kill anyone, it would just be swimming-happy-floaty-embraced with no need for air because it's everything and all and good.
Kurt shrugs back, bashful and blushing. Blaine loves that blush, the way it spreads all the way from Kurt's forehead and the rims of his ears down his neck and clavicles until it almost reaches his perfect pink nipples. He wants to see those nipples now, lick them into hard little points and hear Kurt purr.
"Blaine," Kurt sighs, smiling.
"Hmmmm. I like kissing you in public. I like everyone knowing I belong to you."
Kurt kisses Blaine on the cheek and the forehead and it's better than a June breeze. "And I like dancing with you in public." Blaine's heart does happy little somersaults, because he's here with Kurt and Kurt loves him and they're so so close, arms wrapped around each other and torsos almost touching in an exquisite tease. Kurt's jaw is right against Blaine's nose and it's the best smell ever, citrus-earthy something mixed with Kurt's skin. He wants Kurt to hold him like this forever; he wants to hold Kurt like this forever. And, afterward, he wants to go someplace where they can rip each other's clothes off and he can watch what happens to those endless eyes when Kurt comes.
They dance and dance and it's slow and sweet, even when the music thumps and demands more action. They hold each other and Blaine tells Kurt a million secrets - none of which seem to surprise Kurt, and Blaine loves that - about his dreams for the future and for now, about music and art and joy and Kurt and love.
When it's time to leave, Sebastian's nowhere in sight and Blaine thinks it wasn't very polite of him not to say goodbye. He says so and Kurt murmurs something under his breath about the bathroom that Blaine doesn't quite catch and he'd ask, but Kurt seems annoyed, so he doesn't.
Karofsky's still here, though, over at the pool table - hey, Blaine likes to play pool, too; it's not only football they have in common! - and Blaine would usually shake his hand but they're going to be friends now, and they're not out in the stupid straight world where guys are afraid to hug each other because of what people will think. So Blaine runs up to Karofksy - or should it be Dave now, if they're friends? - and throws his arms around him and wow, it's like hugging a huge teddy bear,Blaine had one just like this when he was little, a bit bigger than him and so nice to hug, and apparently Blaine said some of that out loud because everyone at the pool table is chuckling, but Blaine doesn't care because it's true, and it's so wonderful that it's true, because before this all he ever felt of Dave Karofsky was hard, hard hands.
But now he can see that Dave is as soft on the outside as Kurt told him he was on the inside, and of course he is because Kurt is always right.
So Blaine makes Dave take out his cell phone and dial Blaine's number, and Blaine dials back, and now they are officially friends, and do they show football games here? Because they should really watch a Buckeyes game together sometime. Because it's just occurred to Blaine that there is no better place in the world to watch football than at a gay bar.
Blaine feels Kurt's arm slip around his waist and yay he is all Kurt's, he belongs to Kurt and soon he's going to show him just how much. They wave goodbye and turn around and Kurt leans in and presses his forehead against Blaine's scalp and whispers, "I love you," warm and breathy into his ear, filling his brain and blood up, oh he wants to be full of Kurt. Blaine has a new friend and one less enemy and the best, most beautiful, most awesome-delicious boyfriend in the whole entire universe. They pass the big lit-up letters that spell out B-O-Y and that's how being Kurt's boy makes Blaine feel, all bright and radiant and shining, and they're through the door, and you know what Kurt? "This is the best night of my life."