They Say I'm Doomed (But I Feel Fine) 4/5
Title They Say I'm Doomed (But I Feel Fine)
Author bonmoustache
Rating R
Genre horror, romance, angst
Pairing Kurtofsky
Warnings horror fic, so there are copious amounts of gore
Wordcount 29,650
Summary Dave Karofsky has set rules for the apocalypse, so when it actually arrives, he's sure he can handle it. His family dead and Lima in ruins, Dave sets out in search of other survivors but finds only CJ, a local college student, and an old skeleton from his closet: Kurt Hummel, back in town for god-knows-what reasons. As they cross the country in search of shelter and other survivors, Dave learns that his rules may not be entirely accurate, and that in order to survive, one must learn to trust; sometimes, even love.
Part Four
At least a week passed between the strange roof conversation and It. In that week, there was something electric between them. They skirted around each other in the house, and yet were magnetized, brought together by some strange force. Suddenly it was a battle to stay close and to run far away, to touch and to recoil. It felt like Dave was warring with two sides of himself: a side that said, You'll die if you do this, run you shit. The other side begged him, Don't leave them. Don't leave him. Keep them safe. Keep him safe.
He had taken to lying awake when he should have been sleeping, listening to the house creak and moan. Somehow, he knew that Kurt wasn't sleeping much either, next door in his own bed, blinking into the darkness.
It happened after Dave chopped firewood. He'd gone back inside to find Kurt in the middle of the room, surrounded by thin cardboard record sleeves. Next to him, a red and white suitcase sat, unassuming and plain. Everything was illuminated by the firelight, flickering across the floor, shadowing Kurt's face. For a moment, Dave thought he was crying, but when Kurt looked up, the excitement in his eyes was evident.
"I found it in the basement," he said, gesturing to the suitcase. "And all of these!"
Dave put the firewood in the box next to the door, satisfied with their supply. "A suitcase," he stated, coming closer, standing on the fringe of Kurt's record-circle.
"Not just a suitcase!" Kurt said, lifting up a section of the suitcase, exposing a small record player. "It's a portable phonograph!"
"Oh," Dave replied lamely. He knelt down, looking at the record sleeves. He recognized some of the names: Etta James, Ben E. King, Glenn Miller, Buddy Holly; old greats of the golden age of blues and rock 'n' roll.
"Do you recognize any of them?" Kurt asked. He sounded closer than he had been only a few moments ago, though he didn't seem to acknowledge that he was sitting closer. That magnetism again, pulling them towards each other, gravitating to the center. Dave could almost smell Kurt's shampoo, the same generic crap they'd been taking from pharmacies, and yet something distinctly different, distinctly Kurt. For a moment he felt dazed, punch drunk with the proximity. As soon as the moment came, though, he shook it off, didn't allow his heart to beat wildly like a wild horse set free. Instead he shook his head.
"I don't, no," he said. "I mean, I recognize some of the names." He grabbed the Buddy Holly record, turning it in the light. "I know Buddy Holly-"
Kurt snatched the record from Dave's hand and crawled back to the player. Gently, he lowered the record over the turntable, flicked it on and then positioned the arm carefully over the record. It settled down, the telltale crackle-shhh of old recordings cutting the silence. Then the guitars cut in, followed by a voice: Maybe baby, I'll have you; Maybe baby, you'll be true; Maybe baby, I'll have you for me. The room seemed to brighten with the music, the firelight suddenly becoming much more comforting.
Kurt stood and began to dance. The room lit up, Kurt a beacon of hope emerging in the dark. He was amazing, standing in the darkness and radiating warmth and light and love; everything Dave had thought he'd lost, suddenly found in a body that danced freely. He danced like he had nothing to worry about, a smile setting his face aglow. He looked at Dave with twinkling eyes, holding out a hand.
"Dance with me," he said softly, swiveling his hips gently and one-two stepping in little circles. He voiced it around a laugh, joy bubbling out of him.
It was infectious but Dave shook his head. "I can't," he said, even as his own smile crept upon his face.
Kurt grabbed his hand anyway, hauled him up. "Liar," he said. "I saw you do Thriller, you're a natural." He pressed closer, so Dave could feel the heat of him. "Just let go," he breathed, his voice barely audible over Buddy Holly's own crooning. Maybe baby, you will love me someday.
So close, so close... Dave didn't have control of his hands. They hovered over Kurt's hips, then rested there, up against the denim of Kurt's tattered, dirty jeans. He began to sway with him; for several seconds they stayed this way, so close so close, then Kurt was sashaying away again, dragging Dave with him. This time Dave let himself be pulled along. He closed his own eyes.
Everything was disappearing. The anxiety, the constant fear, the rage and the unbearable sadness; all of it, slipping away in front of his eyes like a melting candle. It melted away and behind the wall, a dancing silhouette beckoned him closer. He let the music flow into him, illuminating the world around him. He moved into that silhouette, let it hold him, take hold of him.
He didn't realize he'd danced for so long, but the song ended as quick as it had began. Dave opened his eyes to look into Kurt's. The other boy was beaming.
"Yeah," he said, his voice bright and soft. "Yeah, just like that..."
"I..." Dave could hear the record spinning. "Another?" he asked.
"Don't have to tell me twice," Kurt replied, hurrying over to the player once again. He plucked one from the scattered pile. When he returned, Sam Cooke began to sing: Darling you send me, I know you send me, darling, you send me, honest, you do.
He came up close to Dave and that was it. Their fates were sealed when Kurt moved slow and careful near to him. Dave let himself dance, let himself hold Kurt as they moved, lost himself in the music. Between record changes, Kurt laughed and hummed to himself and Dave felt something akin to joy swelling inside his chest, a gold balloon ready to burst. His thoughts became colors and sounds, became images of Kurt and Kurt alone, swirling together abstractly; It had rendered him absolutely speechless. He felt safe for the first time in months.
The songs gradually began to get slower, winding the party down. Dave found himself cradling Kurt while Otis Redding filtered out of the little red and white suitcase: These arms of mine, they are burning, burning from wanting you. These arms of mine... They moved in tandem, wrapped around each other. Kurt's hands, secure and solid - safe - against the back of Dave's neck, sure and strong. Dave's arms circled around Kurt, holding him impossibly close, and he couldn't take his eyes off Kurt for even a second. They looked at each other, reading each other like open books.
You're safe with me. I'll never let you go. I will keep you safe, or I will die trying.
He knew then and there that, despite all those stupid fucking rules, there wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for Kurt. Not a Goddamn thing he wouldn't do. He would throw his life down, would gladly let all those monsters eat him right down to the bones, if it meant Kurt remained unharmed. Everything clicked just then: the dream, the magnets that pulled them together, the ropes that bound them together. Dave found his raison d'etre in the apocalypse, and isn't that just how it goes? You find happiness as the world is ending. And yet, it was just as it should have been, this lighthouse of safety illuminating the world around him. Bathed in its light, nothing could touch him.
Dave knew then that he had loved Kurt from the second they'd met, all those years ago, had loved him and hadn't even known it. He'd been too young, too scared, too naïve to know that what he'd thought was hatred, jealousy, anger had been love the whole time. He could see in Kurt's face that he was thinking the same thing: that they hadn't known, back then, that this would be their perfection, would have laughed at it, and yet here they were, together. Fate had done everything, and everything culminated in that moment, swaying in the firelight to old jazz records while outside the world burned to the ground.
Dave couldn't stop it. "I love you," he breathed. Saying it was freedom. Everything suddenly made perfect sense.
Kurt smiled that smile and pressed his lips to Dave's cheek, whispering back: "I love you, too."
It felt like the single most natural thing to kiss him then. Dave threw caution to the wind and he did as his heart wanted. Nothing had ever felt so right. All the puzzle pieces fell into place; the desolate hole inside him suddenly filled with life, a garden in full bloom. All because of this boy in his arms, who was kissing him back like he'd been waiting for it his whole life. And he had. They both had.
When they broke apart, Kurt paused, then moved back to the records. He picked one, removing the spinning Otis Redding album and exchanging them. Dave didn't get a chance to see the sleeve. For a moment, silence; then the whine of violins. This magic moment, so different and so new, was like any other, until I kiss you. He stood, turned around. They faced each other, saying nothing. Sweeter than wine, softer than the summer night, everything I want, I have whenever I hold you tight.
"Wanna hear a secret?" Kurt murmured, coming closer. Instinctively, Dave rested his hands against Kurt's hips, pulling him in. "I always had a thing for chubby boys who sweat too much..."
"...and are going to be bald by the time they're thirty?" Dave replied. Even though it stung just a little to remember that day, the first time everything changed, he couldn't help himself from smiling.
"What can I say," Kurt said with a casual shrug. "I dig jocks." He laughed then, his hand moving to Dave's cheek.
"I've always loved you," Dave said quietly. "Even when I thought I hated you."
"I know," came the reply, those fingers stroking gently along his face.
"I'm so sorry," he continued, dropping his head onto Kurt's shoulder, pressing his face against his neck. "Everything I did then. I'm so fucking sorry. I was... I was..."
Kurt hugged him back. "I know," he said. "But you know what? That was then, and this is now, and I forgive you. Okay?"
Dave pulled away, searching Kurt's eyes. "When?"
"When what?"
"When did you forgive me?"
Kurt thought about it for a moment. "Honestly? I don't remember. I just remember one day I went to bed furious at you, and the next I woke up and all I wanted was to hug you and tell you it'd be okay." He shrugged. "I never hated you, Dave, you have to understand. At worst, I pitied you, but I never hated you. Ever."
Dave let out a long sigh. "I hated you, I really did. Or, at least, I thought I did." One hand moved from Kurt's hip to take his hand, holding it gently, as if Kurt might break away, fade into smoke, a hallucination conjured by Dave's wounded, lonely spirit. "I hated that you were happy and I wasn't, that you were surrounded by love and acceptance and I was surrounded by fear and anger all the time. I hated that I wanted you. I hated that I wasn't you." He smiled wistfully, remembering that time. It seemed so long ago, decades ago, in a world that had ceased to be, a plane of existence that he could no longer see. "I hated everything about you because everything you had was everything I wanted. You were so happy, and I was so sad, and I just..."
"...wanted to bring me down a peg?" Kurt supplied, ducking his head to look into Dave's eyes.
"Something like that, yeah," he replied. "I just wanted you to suffer as much as I was, so I wouldn't be alone... but that just made me even more alone." He shook his head, squinched his eyes shut, as if embarrassed. "God, I was such a fucking moron. How did I ever think that was a good idea?"
"It doesn't matter," Kurt murmured. "Not now, it doesn't." He squeezed Dave's hand. It was solid and warm, firm and strong; Kurt was not delicate, would not break or disappear into the ether; he was as real as Dave, just as present. "What matters now is that I am here, that you are here, that we're alive and we've done that because we had each other. To be frank, although I forgave you, I didn't trust you when we met up. And I know you didn't trust me either. And now look where we are."
They stood for a moment, wrapped around each other.
"When did you realize you loved me?" Dave whispered, voice trembling with insecurity.
"When we were on the roof, after Sarah," he replied, quick as a flash. "I could see right through you, I knew you were just barely keeping yourself together and all I wanted was to just... take that away. Make everything go away. You were the only one who had remained so closed off. You never let yourself just... grieve. On the roof I realized how badly it hurt you, how this will to survive overwhelmed your need to be human for a moment. All I could think was that if I held you, it'd go away. And when I had you in my arms, when I realized that you trusted me, that's when I realized. I would've done anything for you then, just to stop you from feeling all of that pain." A beat. "Cheesy, I know, but true."
Dave hugged Kurt tightly to him, bending down to kiss him hard. Tension drained out of his entire body, fell off him, all his armor fell down, exposing him, bare and vulnerable. He'd never felt so raw and open, letting someone in like this, and there was a fear attached to it. At the same time, there was a sense of relief like cold water washing over him. He waited for the nausea to come, the sick realization that he had doomed himself to horrible fate by letting himself get so close, but it never did. Just a twinge of fear, fear of the unknown. He kissed Kurt long and deep, trying to tell him all of this. Trying to tell him this was all new and he was scared but he was ready, that he needed this.
When they parted, Kurt asked: "Will you let me protect you too?"
"Yes," Dave breathed, moving in for another kiss. "Please. Protect me."
**
The bedroom was not exactly the nicest one they could've chosen, but it was far enough from CJ's room that he wouldn't hear anything traumatic. It was a large bedroom on the opposite end of the house, with a double bed and a dresser. That was all. It was dusty, it was dark, it was cold, but Dave wasn't focusing on that at all.
It seemed like the next logical step after admitting everything, after dancing and kissing and hugging in that dusty, dark living room. Now they stood, afraid but excited, not sure what to do next.
Dave moved first. He had been holding back for so long, denying himself the things that would make him happy, and now everything he'd ever wanted was before him, open and waiting for him. He made the first touch, the first alien contact, touching gentle fingertips against Kurt's chest. He could feel Kurt's heart galloping under the fabric of his thin cotton shirt, and it made Dave relax, knowing Kurt was just as nervous as he was. He smoothed his hand down, sliding it over Kurt's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin through the shirt, subtle as a sunbath.
His hand trailed down. Kurt's stomach jumped reflexively when Dave brushed that tender spot just beside his belly button. Dave quirked a quick smile before taking the hem of Kurt's shirt and guiding it up. When the shirt was discarded, Dave immediately moved his hands back to Kurt's torso. His skin was soft as silk and so warm. He reminded Dave of an electric blanket he'd had when he was younger, the comfort of it got him through the night. He always felt safe under the cover of that blanket, untouchable, invincible; now he felt the same way in front of Kurt.
"No fair," Kurt hummed. He gently moved Dave's hands away, reaching for Dave's own shirt.
When it was off, Dave felt a sudden rush of insecurity. He always felt so large, so ugly next to Kurt. It was like Beauty and the Beast.
Something must have shown in his face because Kurt pressed a kiss to his neck and then his cheek before whispering in his ear, "Don't be shy."
"I'm not shy," Dave whispered back, dipping his fingers under the waistband of Kurt's jeans, hooking his boxers with his thumbs. The other boy hitched in a breath and Dave began to pull them down.
"You're too slow," Kurt said, pushing forward. Dave stopped him.
"I don't want this to be over too fast," he said. There was something in his voice that made them both pause; a desolateness. What was unsaid hung between them like fog: I want this to last forever, in case we never get this again. Kurt slid his hands around Dave's neck, hooking them together. They rested against the nape of his neck, and Kurt leaned up and kissed him softly, barely a touch at all.
"Of course," he said.
Slowly he slid Kurt's jeans down. He stepped out of them, leaving them in a puddle on the floor, and Dave took a moment to appreciate the moment. He remembered being in high school, sexually frustrated and so angry, standing in his shower at three in the morning with his hand on his dick, thinking about Kurt Hummel: how he'd look without all those ridiculous clothes; how he'd moan when Dave touched him; what his face would look like when he came. All these things he'd only pictured and now it was hitting him, staring at Kurt's naked body: the moment had finally arrived.
Dave opened his mouth to say that and Kurt put his hand right over Dave's lips. "Nope," he said. "Don't you dare. That was then, this is now."
Dave rolled his eyes, then pressed a soft kiss to Kurt's palm. Then he nodded once, to show he understood. Kurt pulled his hand away and went for Dave's belt. The sound of metal hitting metal, the slide of leather as it came out of his belt loops, when straight down his body; the feeling of excitement suddenly grew tenfold. His pants suddenly felt way too tight.
Then they were both naked. Gloriously naked, standing in the middle of the bedroom just looking at each other. If Dave hadn't been so nervous, he would've laughed at the scene: two boys, naked, ready, and standing there doing nothing. Dave didn't know what to do. He'd never done this with a guy before; hell, he'd barely done it with a girl, and he hadn't exactly enjoyed it much. Sex for him always felt a bit like a chore, something he did only to please the other person and never himself. Now, he felt genuine attraction. He wanted to do this, more than anything.
"Have you...?" Kurt asked, trailing the question off. Have you ever done this before? With a guy?
"No," he said. His voice quaked. "Have you?"
What a dumb fucking question. Of course Kurt had. The other boy nodded once. "But only, you know, with... with Rick," he replied, his voice steadier than Dave's but sounding just as nervous. "No one else. Just... just the one."
"Okay," Dave replied. He moved closer to Kurt. "Maybe we shouldn't...?"
"Stop talking," Kurt said, leaping at Dave. Dave caught him without really thinking about it, lifting him off the floor. Their mouths met again, this time more frantic. Dave set Kurt down, refusing to break the kiss, and walked them towards the bed. They collapsed onto it, all hands, teeth, and tongues. They breathed each other in, sliding together, fitting perfectly against each other; the joining sides of a broken heart.
**
Dave woke up with a pleasant smoke in his head. It took him a moment to register the body next to him, the body he was currently holding to his chest like a stuffed animal. Kurt's head rested on his shoulder, face turned to Dave's chest. One arm was draped over Dave's waist; the other behind him, their fingers just touching. Their legs were a tangled mess. They were wrapped around each other, the hold tight and secure.
He felt a strange thing blooming in his chest. It took him longer than it should have to realize: it was happiness. What a strange feeling. He'd forgotten it, lost in the jumble of confused and scared emotions he'd felt, lost when he'd tried not to feel anything at all. And now here it was.
Thanks to Kurt, Dave remembered what it was to finally, finally, be happy, to finally have everything you ever dreamed of, to be sated heart, body, and soul. Finally, there was a ship in the ocean, carrying him to safety, weathering the storms with tenacity and determination. That ship was Kurt, bringing him back to shore, back to earth, where humans lived.
He couldn't help it. Even though Kurt was asleep, he had to. He leaned forward and kissed him slowly, smiling when Kurt kissed back with a sleepy groan. When they parted, Kurt grimaced. "Morning breath," he rasped, sticking out his tongue.
"Well, good morning to you too, sunshine," Dave said, smiling.
"I am not a morning person," Kurt whined, pulling the blanket higher over them. "Go back to sleep, you big lug. Just one more hour."
Dave chuckled. "I'll go make breakfast, then. You keep sleeping, baby."
"If there's no coffee, I'll be sad," came the muffled reply from under the blankets. Dave laughed again, quieter this time, as he stepped into the hall.
He felt like he was floating. Everything had changed again in the span of just a few hours. The world didn't feel as bleak and desolate as it had just a few days ago. Now, Dave wandered through the living room with its portable phonograph and the haphazard stack of old records, through the dusty, cold dining room they never used, right into the kitchen--
CJ sat at the table, the cereal spoon halfway to his mouth. It was written all over his face: he knew already.
"Hey," he said, awkwardly.
Dave walked into the kitchen. "Hey," he parroted, searching the cabinets for breakfast. He got the instant coffee out of the cabinet, packets of instant oatmeal, skirting around CJ hesitantly. The silence in the kitchen was heavy and awkward. He wasn't sure what to say: Hey, CJ, me and Kurt are fucking now, thought you should know. Hey, CJ, guess what, I'm in love. Hey, CJ, keep your door closed tonight, and every night after. He wouldn't keep this from CJ, but he wasn't sure how to broach the topic without turning the conversation sour.
CJ did it for him: "So, I was right," he said, munching away on his cereal like they were merely discussing trivial things, not a potential bombshell.
Dave put a pot of water on the gas stove and turned it on. "Right about what?"
"You do have a crush on Kurt," CJ smirked.
Dave laughed then, the awkwardness dissipating. "Yeah, you were right about that one," he confirmed. "I guess I wasn't too subtle about it, was I?"
"Look," CJ said, the tone in his voice changing. It was still airy, still conversational, but it was sincere. Dave turned to look at him fully. "I just want you to know, I don't care, and I still have your guys' backs. I don't have a problem with any of this, just... um, could you keep it down next time?"
Dave's eyes widened. "Shit, I am so sorry," he said, the blush rising to his cheeks. "Were we really that loud?"
CJ exploded in a fit laughter. "Oh man, you should see the look on your face," he laughed. "You look cute when you're embarrassed, I can see why Kurt liked you so much."
"Dick, don't do that," Dave replied, annoyed, before the second part of CJ's sentence hit him. "Wait, what? Why he liked me? What does that mean?"
CJ looked at him, eyebrows raised. "You either really are oblivious, or you are in denial. You couldn't see the way he looks at you before?"
"Uh," Dave tried.
"That time in the field? When you thought I was sleeping? He ran out before I could even grab my crowbar. He was terrified. I've never seen him look so scared."
"I don't understand what you're telling me," Dave said slowly.
"Boy's cared about you for almost as long as we've been a team," he said. "And also, this past week has been super awkward because of all the unresolved sexual tension, so thank you for fixing that. I was about to go nuts and just lock you guys in a room and let you, uh, have at it."
Dave laughed then, couldn't stop. He sat down and laughed at the situation, at everything, how stupid he'd been at the start. How stupid and self-centered, how logical and troubled and sad and angry, and how, now, things felt like they were finally starting to go right, things were finally going to get better. Now he had hope, and it felt good. It felt great.
He set three bowls for oatmeal on the table when he finished laughing. When Kurt came down, they ate in companionable, understanding silence; a makeshift little family of friends, leaning on each other in the storm, with a sleeping little dog at their feet.
Part Five
Author bonmoustache
Rating R
Genre horror, romance, angst
Pairing Kurtofsky
Warnings horror fic, so there are copious amounts of gore
Wordcount 29,650
Summary Dave Karofsky has set rules for the apocalypse, so when it actually arrives, he's sure he can handle it. His family dead and Lima in ruins, Dave sets out in search of other survivors but finds only CJ, a local college student, and an old skeleton from his closet: Kurt Hummel, back in town for god-knows-what reasons. As they cross the country in search of shelter and other survivors, Dave learns that his rules may not be entirely accurate, and that in order to survive, one must learn to trust; sometimes, even love.
Part Four
At least a week passed between the strange roof conversation and It. In that week, there was something electric between them. They skirted around each other in the house, and yet were magnetized, brought together by some strange force. Suddenly it was a battle to stay close and to run far away, to touch and to recoil. It felt like Dave was warring with two sides of himself: a side that said, You'll die if you do this, run you shit. The other side begged him, Don't leave them. Don't leave him. Keep them safe. Keep him safe.
He had taken to lying awake when he should have been sleeping, listening to the house creak and moan. Somehow, he knew that Kurt wasn't sleeping much either, next door in his own bed, blinking into the darkness.
It happened after Dave chopped firewood. He'd gone back inside to find Kurt in the middle of the room, surrounded by thin cardboard record sleeves. Next to him, a red and white suitcase sat, unassuming and plain. Everything was illuminated by the firelight, flickering across the floor, shadowing Kurt's face. For a moment, Dave thought he was crying, but when Kurt looked up, the excitement in his eyes was evident.
"I found it in the basement," he said, gesturing to the suitcase. "And all of these!"
Dave put the firewood in the box next to the door, satisfied with their supply. "A suitcase," he stated, coming closer, standing on the fringe of Kurt's record-circle.
"Not just a suitcase!" Kurt said, lifting up a section of the suitcase, exposing a small record player. "It's a portable phonograph!"
"Oh," Dave replied lamely. He knelt down, looking at the record sleeves. He recognized some of the names: Etta James, Ben E. King, Glenn Miller, Buddy Holly; old greats of the golden age of blues and rock 'n' roll.
"Do you recognize any of them?" Kurt asked. He sounded closer than he had been only a few moments ago, though he didn't seem to acknowledge that he was sitting closer. That magnetism again, pulling them towards each other, gravitating to the center. Dave could almost smell Kurt's shampoo, the same generic crap they'd been taking from pharmacies, and yet something distinctly different, distinctly Kurt. For a moment he felt dazed, punch drunk with the proximity. As soon as the moment came, though, he shook it off, didn't allow his heart to beat wildly like a wild horse set free. Instead he shook his head.
"I don't, no," he said. "I mean, I recognize some of the names." He grabbed the Buddy Holly record, turning it in the light. "I know Buddy Holly-"
Kurt snatched the record from Dave's hand and crawled back to the player. Gently, he lowered the record over the turntable, flicked it on and then positioned the arm carefully over the record. It settled down, the telltale crackle-shhh of old recordings cutting the silence. Then the guitars cut in, followed by a voice: Maybe baby, I'll have you; Maybe baby, you'll be true; Maybe baby, I'll have you for me. The room seemed to brighten with the music, the firelight suddenly becoming much more comforting.
Kurt stood and began to dance. The room lit up, Kurt a beacon of hope emerging in the dark. He was amazing, standing in the darkness and radiating warmth and light and love; everything Dave had thought he'd lost, suddenly found in a body that danced freely. He danced like he had nothing to worry about, a smile setting his face aglow. He looked at Dave with twinkling eyes, holding out a hand.
"Dance with me," he said softly, swiveling his hips gently and one-two stepping in little circles. He voiced it around a laugh, joy bubbling out of him.
It was infectious but Dave shook his head. "I can't," he said, even as his own smile crept upon his face.
Kurt grabbed his hand anyway, hauled him up. "Liar," he said. "I saw you do Thriller, you're a natural." He pressed closer, so Dave could feel the heat of him. "Just let go," he breathed, his voice barely audible over Buddy Holly's own crooning. Maybe baby, you will love me someday.
So close, so close... Dave didn't have control of his hands. They hovered over Kurt's hips, then rested there, up against the denim of Kurt's tattered, dirty jeans. He began to sway with him; for several seconds they stayed this way, so close so close, then Kurt was sashaying away again, dragging Dave with him. This time Dave let himself be pulled along. He closed his own eyes.
Everything was disappearing. The anxiety, the constant fear, the rage and the unbearable sadness; all of it, slipping away in front of his eyes like a melting candle. It melted away and behind the wall, a dancing silhouette beckoned him closer. He let the music flow into him, illuminating the world around him. He moved into that silhouette, let it hold him, take hold of him.
He didn't realize he'd danced for so long, but the song ended as quick as it had began. Dave opened his eyes to look into Kurt's. The other boy was beaming.
"Yeah," he said, his voice bright and soft. "Yeah, just like that..."
"I..." Dave could hear the record spinning. "Another?" he asked.
"Don't have to tell me twice," Kurt replied, hurrying over to the player once again. He plucked one from the scattered pile. When he returned, Sam Cooke began to sing: Darling you send me, I know you send me, darling, you send me, honest, you do.
He came up close to Dave and that was it. Their fates were sealed when Kurt moved slow and careful near to him. Dave let himself dance, let himself hold Kurt as they moved, lost himself in the music. Between record changes, Kurt laughed and hummed to himself and Dave felt something akin to joy swelling inside his chest, a gold balloon ready to burst. His thoughts became colors and sounds, became images of Kurt and Kurt alone, swirling together abstractly; It had rendered him absolutely speechless. He felt safe for the first time in months.
The songs gradually began to get slower, winding the party down. Dave found himself cradling Kurt while Otis Redding filtered out of the little red and white suitcase: These arms of mine, they are burning, burning from wanting you. These arms of mine... They moved in tandem, wrapped around each other. Kurt's hands, secure and solid - safe - against the back of Dave's neck, sure and strong. Dave's arms circled around Kurt, holding him impossibly close, and he couldn't take his eyes off Kurt for even a second. They looked at each other, reading each other like open books.
You're safe with me. I'll never let you go. I will keep you safe, or I will die trying.
He knew then and there that, despite all those stupid fucking rules, there wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for Kurt. Not a Goddamn thing he wouldn't do. He would throw his life down, would gladly let all those monsters eat him right down to the bones, if it meant Kurt remained unharmed. Everything clicked just then: the dream, the magnets that pulled them together, the ropes that bound them together. Dave found his raison d'etre in the apocalypse, and isn't that just how it goes? You find happiness as the world is ending. And yet, it was just as it should have been, this lighthouse of safety illuminating the world around him. Bathed in its light, nothing could touch him.
Dave knew then that he had loved Kurt from the second they'd met, all those years ago, had loved him and hadn't even known it. He'd been too young, too scared, too naïve to know that what he'd thought was hatred, jealousy, anger had been love the whole time. He could see in Kurt's face that he was thinking the same thing: that they hadn't known, back then, that this would be their perfection, would have laughed at it, and yet here they were, together. Fate had done everything, and everything culminated in that moment, swaying in the firelight to old jazz records while outside the world burned to the ground.
Dave couldn't stop it. "I love you," he breathed. Saying it was freedom. Everything suddenly made perfect sense.
Kurt smiled that smile and pressed his lips to Dave's cheek, whispering back: "I love you, too."
It felt like the single most natural thing to kiss him then. Dave threw caution to the wind and he did as his heart wanted. Nothing had ever felt so right. All the puzzle pieces fell into place; the desolate hole inside him suddenly filled with life, a garden in full bloom. All because of this boy in his arms, who was kissing him back like he'd been waiting for it his whole life. And he had. They both had.
When they broke apart, Kurt paused, then moved back to the records. He picked one, removing the spinning Otis Redding album and exchanging them. Dave didn't get a chance to see the sleeve. For a moment, silence; then the whine of violins. This magic moment, so different and so new, was like any other, until I kiss you. He stood, turned around. They faced each other, saying nothing. Sweeter than wine, softer than the summer night, everything I want, I have whenever I hold you tight.
"Wanna hear a secret?" Kurt murmured, coming closer. Instinctively, Dave rested his hands against Kurt's hips, pulling him in. "I always had a thing for chubby boys who sweat too much..."
"...and are going to be bald by the time they're thirty?" Dave replied. Even though it stung just a little to remember that day, the first time everything changed, he couldn't help himself from smiling.
"What can I say," Kurt said with a casual shrug. "I dig jocks." He laughed then, his hand moving to Dave's cheek.
"I've always loved you," Dave said quietly. "Even when I thought I hated you."
"I know," came the reply, those fingers stroking gently along his face.
"I'm so sorry," he continued, dropping his head onto Kurt's shoulder, pressing his face against his neck. "Everything I did then. I'm so fucking sorry. I was... I was..."
Kurt hugged him back. "I know," he said. "But you know what? That was then, and this is now, and I forgive you. Okay?"
Dave pulled away, searching Kurt's eyes. "When?"
"When what?"
"When did you forgive me?"
Kurt thought about it for a moment. "Honestly? I don't remember. I just remember one day I went to bed furious at you, and the next I woke up and all I wanted was to hug you and tell you it'd be okay." He shrugged. "I never hated you, Dave, you have to understand. At worst, I pitied you, but I never hated you. Ever."
Dave let out a long sigh. "I hated you, I really did. Or, at least, I thought I did." One hand moved from Kurt's hip to take his hand, holding it gently, as if Kurt might break away, fade into smoke, a hallucination conjured by Dave's wounded, lonely spirit. "I hated that you were happy and I wasn't, that you were surrounded by love and acceptance and I was surrounded by fear and anger all the time. I hated that I wanted you. I hated that I wasn't you." He smiled wistfully, remembering that time. It seemed so long ago, decades ago, in a world that had ceased to be, a plane of existence that he could no longer see. "I hated everything about you because everything you had was everything I wanted. You were so happy, and I was so sad, and I just..."
"...wanted to bring me down a peg?" Kurt supplied, ducking his head to look into Dave's eyes.
"Something like that, yeah," he replied. "I just wanted you to suffer as much as I was, so I wouldn't be alone... but that just made me even more alone." He shook his head, squinched his eyes shut, as if embarrassed. "God, I was such a fucking moron. How did I ever think that was a good idea?"
"It doesn't matter," Kurt murmured. "Not now, it doesn't." He squeezed Dave's hand. It was solid and warm, firm and strong; Kurt was not delicate, would not break or disappear into the ether; he was as real as Dave, just as present. "What matters now is that I am here, that you are here, that we're alive and we've done that because we had each other. To be frank, although I forgave you, I didn't trust you when we met up. And I know you didn't trust me either. And now look where we are."
They stood for a moment, wrapped around each other.
"When did you realize you loved me?" Dave whispered, voice trembling with insecurity.
"When we were on the roof, after Sarah," he replied, quick as a flash. "I could see right through you, I knew you were just barely keeping yourself together and all I wanted was to just... take that away. Make everything go away. You were the only one who had remained so closed off. You never let yourself just... grieve. On the roof I realized how badly it hurt you, how this will to survive overwhelmed your need to be human for a moment. All I could think was that if I held you, it'd go away. And when I had you in my arms, when I realized that you trusted me, that's when I realized. I would've done anything for you then, just to stop you from feeling all of that pain." A beat. "Cheesy, I know, but true."
Dave hugged Kurt tightly to him, bending down to kiss him hard. Tension drained out of his entire body, fell off him, all his armor fell down, exposing him, bare and vulnerable. He'd never felt so raw and open, letting someone in like this, and there was a fear attached to it. At the same time, there was a sense of relief like cold water washing over him. He waited for the nausea to come, the sick realization that he had doomed himself to horrible fate by letting himself get so close, but it never did. Just a twinge of fear, fear of the unknown. He kissed Kurt long and deep, trying to tell him all of this. Trying to tell him this was all new and he was scared but he was ready, that he needed this.
When they parted, Kurt asked: "Will you let me protect you too?"
"Yes," Dave breathed, moving in for another kiss. "Please. Protect me."
**
The bedroom was not exactly the nicest one they could've chosen, but it was far enough from CJ's room that he wouldn't hear anything traumatic. It was a large bedroom on the opposite end of the house, with a double bed and a dresser. That was all. It was dusty, it was dark, it was cold, but Dave wasn't focusing on that at all.
It seemed like the next logical step after admitting everything, after dancing and kissing and hugging in that dusty, dark living room. Now they stood, afraid but excited, not sure what to do next.
Dave moved first. He had been holding back for so long, denying himself the things that would make him happy, and now everything he'd ever wanted was before him, open and waiting for him. He made the first touch, the first alien contact, touching gentle fingertips against Kurt's chest. He could feel Kurt's heart galloping under the fabric of his thin cotton shirt, and it made Dave relax, knowing Kurt was just as nervous as he was. He smoothed his hand down, sliding it over Kurt's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin through the shirt, subtle as a sunbath.
His hand trailed down. Kurt's stomach jumped reflexively when Dave brushed that tender spot just beside his belly button. Dave quirked a quick smile before taking the hem of Kurt's shirt and guiding it up. When the shirt was discarded, Dave immediately moved his hands back to Kurt's torso. His skin was soft as silk and so warm. He reminded Dave of an electric blanket he'd had when he was younger, the comfort of it got him through the night. He always felt safe under the cover of that blanket, untouchable, invincible; now he felt the same way in front of Kurt.
"No fair," Kurt hummed. He gently moved Dave's hands away, reaching for Dave's own shirt.
When it was off, Dave felt a sudden rush of insecurity. He always felt so large, so ugly next to Kurt. It was like Beauty and the Beast.
Something must have shown in his face because Kurt pressed a kiss to his neck and then his cheek before whispering in his ear, "Don't be shy."
"I'm not shy," Dave whispered back, dipping his fingers under the waistband of Kurt's jeans, hooking his boxers with his thumbs. The other boy hitched in a breath and Dave began to pull them down.
"You're too slow," Kurt said, pushing forward. Dave stopped him.
"I don't want this to be over too fast," he said. There was something in his voice that made them both pause; a desolateness. What was unsaid hung between them like fog: I want this to last forever, in case we never get this again. Kurt slid his hands around Dave's neck, hooking them together. They rested against the nape of his neck, and Kurt leaned up and kissed him softly, barely a touch at all.
"Of course," he said.
Slowly he slid Kurt's jeans down. He stepped out of them, leaving them in a puddle on the floor, and Dave took a moment to appreciate the moment. He remembered being in high school, sexually frustrated and so angry, standing in his shower at three in the morning with his hand on his dick, thinking about Kurt Hummel: how he'd look without all those ridiculous clothes; how he'd moan when Dave touched him; what his face would look like when he came. All these things he'd only pictured and now it was hitting him, staring at Kurt's naked body: the moment had finally arrived.
Dave opened his mouth to say that and Kurt put his hand right over Dave's lips. "Nope," he said. "Don't you dare. That was then, this is now."
Dave rolled his eyes, then pressed a soft kiss to Kurt's palm. Then he nodded once, to show he understood. Kurt pulled his hand away and went for Dave's belt. The sound of metal hitting metal, the slide of leather as it came out of his belt loops, when straight down his body; the feeling of excitement suddenly grew tenfold. His pants suddenly felt way too tight.
Then they were both naked. Gloriously naked, standing in the middle of the bedroom just looking at each other. If Dave hadn't been so nervous, he would've laughed at the scene: two boys, naked, ready, and standing there doing nothing. Dave didn't know what to do. He'd never done this with a guy before; hell, he'd barely done it with a girl, and he hadn't exactly enjoyed it much. Sex for him always felt a bit like a chore, something he did only to please the other person and never himself. Now, he felt genuine attraction. He wanted to do this, more than anything.
"Have you...?" Kurt asked, trailing the question off. Have you ever done this before? With a guy?
"No," he said. His voice quaked. "Have you?"
What a dumb fucking question. Of course Kurt had. The other boy nodded once. "But only, you know, with... with Rick," he replied, his voice steadier than Dave's but sounding just as nervous. "No one else. Just... just the one."
"Okay," Dave replied. He moved closer to Kurt. "Maybe we shouldn't...?"
"Stop talking," Kurt said, leaping at Dave. Dave caught him without really thinking about it, lifting him off the floor. Their mouths met again, this time more frantic. Dave set Kurt down, refusing to break the kiss, and walked them towards the bed. They collapsed onto it, all hands, teeth, and tongues. They breathed each other in, sliding together, fitting perfectly against each other; the joining sides of a broken heart.
**
Dave woke up with a pleasant smoke in his head. It took him a moment to register the body next to him, the body he was currently holding to his chest like a stuffed animal. Kurt's head rested on his shoulder, face turned to Dave's chest. One arm was draped over Dave's waist; the other behind him, their fingers just touching. Their legs were a tangled mess. They were wrapped around each other, the hold tight and secure.
He felt a strange thing blooming in his chest. It took him longer than it should have to realize: it was happiness. What a strange feeling. He'd forgotten it, lost in the jumble of confused and scared emotions he'd felt, lost when he'd tried not to feel anything at all. And now here it was.
Thanks to Kurt, Dave remembered what it was to finally, finally, be happy, to finally have everything you ever dreamed of, to be sated heart, body, and soul. Finally, there was a ship in the ocean, carrying him to safety, weathering the storms with tenacity and determination. That ship was Kurt, bringing him back to shore, back to earth, where humans lived.
He couldn't help it. Even though Kurt was asleep, he had to. He leaned forward and kissed him slowly, smiling when Kurt kissed back with a sleepy groan. When they parted, Kurt grimaced. "Morning breath," he rasped, sticking out his tongue.
"Well, good morning to you too, sunshine," Dave said, smiling.
"I am not a morning person," Kurt whined, pulling the blanket higher over them. "Go back to sleep, you big lug. Just one more hour."
Dave chuckled. "I'll go make breakfast, then. You keep sleeping, baby."
"If there's no coffee, I'll be sad," came the muffled reply from under the blankets. Dave laughed again, quieter this time, as he stepped into the hall.
He felt like he was floating. Everything had changed again in the span of just a few hours. The world didn't feel as bleak and desolate as it had just a few days ago. Now, Dave wandered through the living room with its portable phonograph and the haphazard stack of old records, through the dusty, cold dining room they never used, right into the kitchen--
CJ sat at the table, the cereal spoon halfway to his mouth. It was written all over his face: he knew already.
"Hey," he said, awkwardly.
Dave walked into the kitchen. "Hey," he parroted, searching the cabinets for breakfast. He got the instant coffee out of the cabinet, packets of instant oatmeal, skirting around CJ hesitantly. The silence in the kitchen was heavy and awkward. He wasn't sure what to say: Hey, CJ, me and Kurt are fucking now, thought you should know. Hey, CJ, guess what, I'm in love. Hey, CJ, keep your door closed tonight, and every night after. He wouldn't keep this from CJ, but he wasn't sure how to broach the topic without turning the conversation sour.
CJ did it for him: "So, I was right," he said, munching away on his cereal like they were merely discussing trivial things, not a potential bombshell.
Dave put a pot of water on the gas stove and turned it on. "Right about what?"
"You do have a crush on Kurt," CJ smirked.
Dave laughed then, the awkwardness dissipating. "Yeah, you were right about that one," he confirmed. "I guess I wasn't too subtle about it, was I?"
"Look," CJ said, the tone in his voice changing. It was still airy, still conversational, but it was sincere. Dave turned to look at him fully. "I just want you to know, I don't care, and I still have your guys' backs. I don't have a problem with any of this, just... um, could you keep it down next time?"
Dave's eyes widened. "Shit, I am so sorry," he said, the blush rising to his cheeks. "Were we really that loud?"
CJ exploded in a fit laughter. "Oh man, you should see the look on your face," he laughed. "You look cute when you're embarrassed, I can see why Kurt liked you so much."
"Dick, don't do that," Dave replied, annoyed, before the second part of CJ's sentence hit him. "Wait, what? Why he liked me? What does that mean?"
CJ looked at him, eyebrows raised. "You either really are oblivious, or you are in denial. You couldn't see the way he looks at you before?"
"Uh," Dave tried.
"That time in the field? When you thought I was sleeping? He ran out before I could even grab my crowbar. He was terrified. I've never seen him look so scared."
"I don't understand what you're telling me," Dave said slowly.
"Boy's cared about you for almost as long as we've been a team," he said. "And also, this past week has been super awkward because of all the unresolved sexual tension, so thank you for fixing that. I was about to go nuts and just lock you guys in a room and let you, uh, have at it."
Dave laughed then, couldn't stop. He sat down and laughed at the situation, at everything, how stupid he'd been at the start. How stupid and self-centered, how logical and troubled and sad and angry, and how, now, things felt like they were finally starting to go right, things were finally going to get better. Now he had hope, and it felt good. It felt great.
He set three bowls for oatmeal on the table when he finished laughing. When Kurt came down, they ate in companionable, understanding silence; a makeshift little family of friends, leaning on each other in the storm, with a sleeping little dog at their feet.
Part Five