Of Comic Cons, Cacti, Rock Stars, & Hard Candy: A Kurtofsky Love Story 6a/?
Title: Of Comic Cons, Cacti, Rock Stars & Hard Candy: A Kurtofsky Love Story
Author: Celesteennui
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 11505/48652 so far
Spoilers: The more episodes aired the greater the chances are that you will read something that qualifies as spoiler and that this will be considered AU.
Characters/Pairings: Main-Dave Karofsky and Kurt Hummel. Supporting-OC Kyle Queen, OC Jude Bower, Noah Puckerman, Finn Hudson, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez and lots of other OCs because this is a FutureFic. Dave/Kurt battling it out against Dave/OC.
Summary: FutureFic. Dave Karofsky has a life that, as a teenager, he never thought was possible. He’s out and proud, has a flourishing career, an amazing circle of friends and he is neither chubby nor balding. Life is pretty perfect-right up until his boyfriend decides to break up with him. By text. On his birthday. It’s on the rebound from this debilitating blow to his pride that Dave’s path crosses with that of the last person he ever expected to see again: Kurt Hummel. Despite old wounds, though, a friendship blossoms between Dave and Kurt, one that might do more than ease Dave’s conscience over his high school screw ups-if he can let it. A How-To-Guide on getting over a bad relationship all wrapped up in humor, drama, insanity and tied with a smutty bow.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and I make no money from this artistic venture, it is done for the pure enjoyment of writing about one of my favorite shows. Reviews are greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Click Picture to Listen to Chapter Playlist
(opens in new window)
For those who don’t Grooveshark here’s what is on the playlist if you ever want to check the songs out:
Heartbeats-The Knife
Cloud-Sia
Let it Happen-Jimmy Eat World
Breathe-Anberlin
How Far we’ve Come-Matchbox Twenty
Whirring-The Joy Formidable
1983-The Incredible Moses Leroy
Strangers When We Meet-David Bowie
With a Little Help from My Friends-Across the Universe OST
You’ve got a Friend-Me First and the Gimme Gimmes
Author’s Note: A thank you to my lovely beta, aureliamonte and to winterswallows for her help, guidance and annoying way of being right. If you have yet to read The Boy Who Lives on Heaven Hill by winterswallows, you really need too. And while you’re there read the sequel Good But Not Nice, it’s a Davetana bromance that I’m sort of smitten with.
After Kurt managed to get back into his seat, with a little bit of assistance from Dave, they continued talking for almost an hour more. Dave was pretty sure that the only reason they'd decided to call it quits was the rush of very drunk college age kids that stumbled in calling for everything deep fried and sugary. This, of course, announced that it was past two in the morning and the bars had all closed down.
"Holy shit…it's nearly a quarter after," Kurt said as he flicked his iPhone on. "We've been talking for over two hours."
"Well, time flies when you're having fun, or coming clean, or whatever the fuck that saying's really about," Dave joked reaching for his own cell. He'd turned the BlackBerry off earlier in the evening, not wanting to be disturbed by Annabeth should she get a wild, workaholic hair up her ass. As the screen lit up and found five new messages waiting for him Dave became very grateful he'd chosen to do that. Opening his inbox he saw that four were from Kyle and one was from Jude.
The first four, from Kyle, were rather touching. In a very…well, Kyle sort of way.
[From Porthos 11:52 P.M.] Good luck, I love you.
[From Porthos 11:57 P.M.] The twink didn't SEEM like he was going to go nuts on you, so I assume things will go well. If they don't and you come home crying, I can't promise that I won't attempt something a little bit physical-assaulty. I love you and I hope you're okay.
[From Porthos 12:03 A.M.] Please, please, PLEASE be ok. My burrito is not nearly as delicious as it should be when I worry about you. Do you hear that, fucker? I love you so much you can taint the taste of steak and guacamole!
[From Porthos 12:11 A.M.] Okay, since you're not texting me back or here crying, I'm going to be a grownup now and assume things with you and pretty boy aren't going terribly. I will stop texting you now. I love you.
Seriously, if you come back damaged goods, skinny better watch his ass because I will come at it with a fire poker and vinegar.
Please don't be mad at me for the threats if you, by chance, hooked up with him in a bathroom stall.
I love you.
Jude's message, the final and most recent of the bunch, though, was the most worrisome.
[From Aramis 1:22 A.M.] Hey, I hope that you check this before you leave Estelle's and go to Chipotle, otherwise you're gonna be pissed. Kyle and Noah decided to go bowling, I think they have a wager. We'll be at Blue Lanes, tell the twink.
I hope everything went okay. Love you.
"Oh Jeebus…" he sighed turning the phone back off.
"What?" Kurt asked. "Are you okay?"
Dave shook his head. "I'm peachy. Puckerman's probably bitten off way more than he can chew though."
Kurt paled and bit his lower lip, blue-green eyes wide in apprehension. "Oh shit, your Amazon didn't kill my letch, did she?"
"No, but she's probably got his wallet by now-don't ask." He shook his head again and stood, pulling on his coat and gloves. "C'mon, they moved from eating burritos to bowling about a block away. If we hurry we might be able to salvage some of your boy's dignity."
Kurt made a face but didn't argue, just slid out of the booth and started to pull on his own winter-wear. Dave was a little amazed by that; the Kurt Hummel he'd gone to school with had never missed a chance at a sarcastic remark. He'd also never let anyone tell him what to do, no questions asked, no matter how polite (or violent, he could guiltily admit) the other person was while commanding. Then again, Dave had never known the real Kurt, just glimpsed the person he projected during school hours. He also had to admit that ten years and all the changes in his life had probably altered Kurt more than a little too.
Dave didn't dwell on that, though, he was a little too preoccupied with whatever devious machinations were going through Kyle's head at the moment. He did, however, remember to hold the door open for Kurt as they left.
"Are you okay with walking a block?" Dave asked once they were out in the arctic chill of Connecticut's January. To his left Kurt seemed a meager adversary for the weather despite his coat, scarf, and gloves. Maybe it was just because Kurt seemed even smaller ten years later thanks mostly to the two extra inches Dave had grown and the muscle he'd packed on to accompany it. "We can get a cab, if you want."
Kurt waved the suggestion off. "I'm fine," he assured Dave. "Lead the way." He gestured dramatically, making Dave smile as he started off towards Blue Lanes, careful to keep his gate a little slow for his companion and trying not to be obvious about that. Dave was sure those long legs could outrun him but they did not have the route memorized into the muscle like his did.
If Kurt thought Dave was being careful of him, though, he didn't let on, he was busy keeping the air pleasant with not-so-idle chatter.
"This isn't all that bad compared to the time we played all over Northern Europe," Kurt told him, voice muffled ever so slightly by the thick green-gray-blue scarf he tucked about his neck. "Late winter early spring is so not the time to visit Finland, Norway, Sweden and Denmark. Especially Finland."
"In summer it's frickin' beautiful," Dave replied. "Kyle and I went a couple of years ago to speak at a con in Helsinki. We took a little bit of a vacation, came early, stayed few days late, ate a lot of cloudberry jam. It was nice."
"Well, in the winter when we went we had a moronic bus driver who couldn't read signs and put us onto an ice road. Did you know that a tour bus can drive on just the left-side wheels if everyone is perfectly balanced in the middle while screaming? It can."
"Fuck, for real?"
The look on Kurt's face could have peeled paint right off a building. "No. I still have night terrors of nearly going into a half-frozen, Finnish lake just because." They had paused at a crosswalk, waiting for the green light to come on and the force of that glare had Dave edging back just a little. Kurt noticed that and the fire and brimstone flickering at the back of his eyes dissipated, much to Dave's relief.
"Sorry, sorry," Kurt sighed rubbing his temples. "Let's just say that that leg of touring was stressful."
"Sounds it." The green light came and they resumed their easy walk over the frosty asphalt. "On the upside, you're making me feel a whole lot better about all the flying I have to do. It's nice to be reminded planes aren't the only deathtraps around, in a way."
"Ugh, I'm fine on planes, but Noah?" Kurt rolled his eyes. "We have sedate him with horse tranquilizers to get him in his seat ever since we flew through a lightning storm back in 2016. Which keeps getting harder and harder because he doesn't want to be unconscious-like he believes that he could actually do something if the plane went down other than piss himself."
Though he sincerely did feel sorry for Puckerman (Paul and Michelle's fateful trip over Lake Ontario in a rickety little Cessna had made air travel difficult on him for quite some time after their passing) Dave couldn't stop himself from laughing. It was probably-no definitely-the mental image of Noah Puckerman with a big wet spot on his jeans and screaming like a little girl that did it.
"If we're drowsy, stressed or anything like that I actually have to keep Kyle awake until we've boarded," he told Kurt. "Once she's asleep there's pretty much no getting her back up. She's like a five-year-old, throws a tantrum and everything."
"Cute." Dave didn't miss sarcasm.
"Sometimes. Occasionally the little bitch kicks."
"I mean this in the best possible way-since, aside from trying to strangle me with her eyes, your friend is a beautiful woman-but there is nothing little about her." Dave chuckled, mostly at the wild way Kurt was gesturing as he continued on. "I had no idea that girls came that tall! And, yes, I know how heterosexual this sounds but-Jesus Christ! The rack on her!" Kurt held his arms out in front of him, fingers laced together, clearly imitating Kyle's chest.
Dave had to stop walking at that point, his laughter choked off into wheezing. He held his ribs and gulped in air, looking up at Kurt with watery eyes as the other man giggled along with him. His ass might have met snowy pavement if there hadn't been a lamppost within clinging distance.
"What? They're quite large, that is all I am trying to say."
"N-not disagreeing. Not at-at all," Dave somehow managed to spit out as he tried to calm down. He felt like he was practically sweating beneath his coat from laughing so hard. "Almost everyone is in awe of Kyle's tits when they meet her. Hell, our friend Vince just recently trained himself not to ogle them when she's speaking."
Kurt snorted. "Well, things with their own gravitational pull do tend to catch a lot of attention."
"Well, that would explain why my and Jude's heads end up resting there at least once a day." At the very questioning look that earned from Kurt, he explained, "Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it. Boobs are awesome. Think of the most comfortable pillow you've had then multiply that by ten. That's what it feels like when you lay your head on Kyle's chest. Warm, soft-occasionally vibrating when she's in a giggly mood-what's not to love about any of that?"
"The vagina all of that is attached to," Kurt deadpanned, though he was smirking as he said it.
Dave heaved a melodramatic sigh and rolled his eyes as they started walking again. "Well, if there were a penis attached it would ruin everything. I hang out with trannies and queens but I'm not into the full combo, thank you. To me, boobs are an asexual place for napping. Broaden your horizons a little."
"I'm just going to say that you are not the first person to tell me I needed to do that," Kurt chuckled. He sidestepped a frozen puddle and his elbow brushed against Dave's. Dave tried very hard not to make too much of the fact that Kurt remained quite close afterward, that elbow continuing to graze his own every few feet or so.
"My argument's the best, though, right?"
"You're advocating their use as headrests, not things that I should be trying to rub my penis between, so…yeah."
"Eww! That's a terrible use of boobs."
"I know! How in the world does anal automatically go into the 'perv' category among straight people while tit fucking remains such a prized novelty? Really?"
"Um, depending on whom you talk to-like ninety percent of all women ever-those are both shit sexploits for guys to attempt if they want to keep their balls intact."
"Really?" Kurt asked his brows raised high. "You know, Jules was the one who suggested tit fucking to me if I ever got curious. And she's into anal."
Really, Dave couldn't help the absolute disbelief that crossed over his face. He almost called Kurt a liar too, luckily, his brain was still on top of things and he shoved that away. Instead "Should I even ask how you know that about your married, lesbian friend?" was what passed his lips.
Their elbows brushed again as Kurt scowled playfully up at him. "Oh, do not even act like every sordid detail of Kyle and Jude's sex lives hasn't been catalogued up there." He reached out a leather-clad hand and gently tapped the side of Dave's head. Dave laughed, swatting lightly at the hand which Kurt had back in his coat pocket within the blink of an eye; there was no missing the smug curve of his mouth. "It's what's real friends do: divulge each atrocity of carnal interaction. Sometimes with vivid pantomime. Also? I live most of the damn year packed in pretty tight with five other people and sometimes earplugs just aren't around when you need them." Kurt shuddered in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold. "I've heard things. Things no amount of porn could ever erase."
Dave's "aww" was stuttered by laughter, even as he gave Kurt what was supposed to be an empathetic shoulder pat. It probably didn't come off as very sincere; in fact, Dave was sure by the way Kurt's nose wrinkled up at him that it had not. The smaller man nudged him with his shoulder, not very hard and certainly not enough to so much as even dent Dave's stride. Dave was going to return the favor but stopped himself right before contact was made; memories of pushing Kurt into hard metal were not at rest just yet. He made the mistake of catching Kurt's eye as he ducked his head down and those bright aqua irises widened just a bit; he understood. Mercifully, though, any following awkward apologies were averted by the flashing neon sign depicting several pins tumbling over; they were standing in front of Blue Lanes.
That pale face reddened-more so than what it already had from the cold-when Dave, out of habit really, held the door open for him yet again. Dave tried his best not to enjoy that or make anything of it as Kurt ducked inside. He could not, however, stop his eyes from shifting downward-briefly-to the back of Kurt's jeans when he passed him. Conveniently, Dave told himself it was to check for a wallet line-which he did not see-on the back pocket.
Besides the wonderful toasty heat of the indoors, several other things greeted Dave and Kurt as they made their way into the bowling alley. The first thing that Dave noted was that it was an irregularly slow night for a Saturday (well, Sunday now technically) with the place all but empty. The second was that the walls had been repainted a brighter shade of blue since he'd last been there. The third was that the front desk clerk, a somewhat acquaintance named Bea, was perched on the counter, legs crossed and eagerly watching the lane directly in front of the desk. Where, not coincidently Dave was sure, Jude was sitting. And the fourth thing that registered to Dave was Puckerman, clothed in only his boxers, socks and garish bowling shoes-appearing unperturbed about it too-while he watched Kyle roll her ball down their lane. Aside from no longer wearing her coat, gloves, and exchanging her boots for bowling shoes, Kyle (thank goodness) was no more undressed than she had been when Dave had last set eyes on her.
"What the-" whatever Kurt was going to say was cut off by the loud crash of pins when Kyle's ball slammed the center of their formation. Each little white statue tumbled over helplessly.
"Fuck yeah!" Kyle exclaimed pumping her fist in the air. She whirled around facing Puckerman and sneered; Kyle was fucking obnoxious as hell when she played games and extra loud. "How many is that now? Huh? Come on, tell me, Princess. Lay. It. On. Me. You afraid you're gonna break a nail? Have your husband give you an extra quarter for falsies and put some effort into it, June."
"You're cheating," Puckerman said, though he didn't seem very angry. In fact he was grinning at Kyle. "How in the fuck can you get nothing but strikes for three games? I wanna switch lanes. This one is clearly catering to whatever handicap you've got goin' on."
Kyle snorted, flipped back her hair arrogantly-as-you-please and crossed her arms. "Ugh-huh, whatever, Camilla. Pick any lane you want, you're still gonna be my bitch. Oh," she grinned wickedly, "and since I think I just won-again-you're moving on sans a little something. I'll let you pick between socks or panties."
Bea helpfully called out, "I don't think you should risk the socks in those shoes, honey! Fuck only knows who's had them on."
The fact that Puckerman actually seemed to be taking her suggestion into consideration looking between his boxers and Kyle was enough to snap Dave out of his stupor. Puckerman was easy enough on the eyes (not really Dave's type though) but the last thing Kurt probably wanted to see was his best friend doing a striptease. Or at least that was his guess by the look of sheer incredulity plastering Kurt's face.
"Porthos!" he shouted Kyle's nickname with an edge and put on his best no-nonsense face. All eyes shot towards he and Kurt, though only Jude had sense to look a little bit ashamed. Bea waved prettily while Noah and Kyle both grinned. He shook his head and continued as they walked over to their friends, Kurt yanking his coat off to throw at his best friend with the hiss of 'you're in public!' as he did. "Really? Really, Kyle? Whatever you bet him, give it back."
"Aww," Kyle pouted crossing her arms as her plush mouth seeped into a pout. "Why ya gotta be a killjoy, Davey?"
"Yeah, Davey," Bea echoed, mirroring Kyle's face. The small, dark-haired, young woman didn't really have the lips to pull it off quite like his BFF did but the effort was still good. He shot her a glare as a reward.
"Isn't there a shirt, shoes, pants requirement you're supposed to be upholding, lady?" he asked, emphasizing his point with a high flagged eyebrow.
To Bea's credit, that didn't faze her in the slightest. "I can make exceptions where I see fit," she sniffed quite primly. That, however, melted into a sly grin as she glanced at Noah, who was arguing with Kurt about the coat and trying to get him to take it back. "See that? That's fit." Her eyes lingered unabashedly on Noah's pecs. "Totally fit."
Since Bea was in her early twenties and therefore had yet to grow a sense of shame, Dave stopped trying with her. His friends, though, were a different story.
"I'm a killjoy because you had to play dirty pool on someone I kinda owed," he told Kyle sternly. Dave's eyes flicked to Jude, who was trying and failing sort of hilariously, to look inconspicuous while his eyes darted around the room, on anything that wasn't Dave. "And you," he pointed at Jude accusingly. "You let her do it. You're supposed to be the responsible one. Why in the fuck didn't you stop this?"
Jude threw up his hands. "And what did you want me to do?" he demanded. "In nine years what have I ever done to give you the impression that I can make her listen?" This time it was Jude that threw the accusing finger at Kyle, who in turn nodded, agreeing with him. "Do you remember Pride Parade 2015? I do. I couldn't get her to drop the bat then and I can't call her off now. The best I can do is tagalong and occasionally do damage control."
"Which he did," Kyle defended. "He told me I couldn't just take all of Princess'," she gestured vaguely toward Noah, "clothes in one go. That was plenty of intervention, Athos."
This time it was Puckerman who spoke up to defend Dave's friends. "Karof-Dave," Puckerman paused when he said Dave's name, like it was his first time using it. To be fair it probably was. He carried on quickly enough, though. "Dude, it's cool. I know what I signed up for. We're all adults. The lady schooled me fair and square. Would you stop that?" The last bit was directed solely at Kurt who was still trying to force his coat onto Puckerman. The taller of the two band-mates pushed his friend lightly. "You've seen me naked like a dozen times before and I'm not cold. Calm down."
That withering glare Dave had had the misfortune of witnessing on their walk over returned to Kurt's face and then some as he elbowed Puckerman in the ribs. The guitarist yelped and Kurt did not appear at all bothered. "Noah, I could care less if you whipped your dick out, went outside and slapped it against a streetlight, that's your own business. However, I do care if it all ends up on the forums and kids start asking questions during interviews. Now put your fucking clothes on. Dumbass."
"Aww, come on!" Puckerman exclaimed. "I do that and it's throwing in the towel."
Kurt put a hand to his forehead, as if to silently ask some higher power just why he'd been saddled with this responsibility he called his friend. Dave knew the feeling pretty well and empathized greatly. "Noah, I swear…"
"Dude, whatever she bet you, you didn't have a chance of winning it from the start," Dave threw in, hoping to save Kurt an aneurysm. He eyed Kyle and she smiled saccharinely in return even batting her eyelashes. Absolutely no shame.
"I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that no one," he frowned at directly at Jude who slumped a little in his seat, "mentioned that she's won a few bowling championships." Puckerman's suddenly slack jaw answered for him. "Nope, didn't think so. Go ahead and put on your pants guilt free."
Though Kurt, rather forcibly, grabbed his friend's clothes and put them in his arms, Puckerman remained stationary, staring between Kyle and Jude. "You tricked me," he finally said. Dave couldn't tell if he was just surprised or angry at the two of them, though, for a moment, he was pretty sure there would be yelling. That dissipated with Puckerman's grin, though. "Damn, beautiful and cunning. I'm so in to that." His impressed smile shifted to lewd as he struck a pose and ran a hand down his abdomen, a very come-hither gleam to his eye. "Baby, if you wanted to see the goods you could have just asked."
Dave caught Kurt's eye and was glad to see that he wasn't alone in thinking Puckerman was just a little bit retarded. He almost chuckled at the way Kurt sighed and crossed his arms, silently stressing just how used to this behavior he was and how very sad he was for that fact. Dave offered a comforting smile, remembering all the times he'd had to pry Kyle off some poor jerk who'd given her the wrong look; it was sort of nice to know that every group of best friends came with an equal amount of agony.
Kyle in the meantime, did her best to deflate Puckerman's ego like a balloon. "Please, they were in it to see the goods," she gestured to Jude and Bea. The former flashed a sheepish smile and the latter ignored them as she'd conveniently gone back behind the counter to do something or another. "I was hoping for a challenge. Or to pulverize someone, maybe make 'em cry."
"Do I still get to motorboat those if I squirt a few tears?" Puckerman asked staring blatantly at Kyle's chest in a way that almost all other men feared to do.
"Not a chance," Kyle told him, almost sweetly, as she grabbed a Coke off the lane-table that Dave assumed was hers. "Now put your clothes back on. And if I have to tell you not to call me 'baby' one more time, I'll toss you down the lane. I'm twenty-fucking-seven-years-old and I ain't wearing any diapers."
"Yeah, yeah." Dave was almost impressed by the nonchalance in Puckerman's voice. The other man slid back into his jeans and had his belt buckled so quickly it was almost startling; Puckerman had obviously perfected the dress-and-run. As his T-shirt was going over his head he asked, "So, you wanna try teams for round four?"
"Sure," Kyle said setting her drink back down; it was an automatic response and Dave could muse over it later. Guilt shaded his best friend's eyes, though, as they flicked over to Dave and Kurt, suddenly remembering why she was hanging out with the smarmiest human being alive. "Uh, well, that is if you two are cool?"
"Oh yeah," Puckerman agreed, finally seeming a little bit embarrassed as he too looked them over. "Are you guys…?" Dave was pretty sure the question was left hanging because Puckerman really had no idea what there was for him to ask at all. Not that Dave could really blame him.
He looked at Kurt and found the shorter man already had eyes locked on him, mirroring the guarded, questioning look that Dave himself wore. Things felt okay, Dave, for one, felt lighter since their conversation in Estelle's but sitting there and standing here were two different things. There was a part of Dave that didn't think that he and Kurt could ever really be friends, not with all that baggage they'd carried between them. That same part didn't think that he even deserved friendship; despite their heartfelt exchange a tiny bit of Dave might always believe he didn't even deserve forgiveness.
The strange knot that was winding up in Dave's stomach unraveled in a gush when Kurt shrugged, started to unwind his scarf, and said, "Sure." It was that easy.
Kyle, being Kyle, caught Dave's eye, the lines of her pretty face drawn; she had been worried, he knew. For all of her messing with Puckerman she had been worried, very worried, and she was worried even then. Jude, Dave knew, had also been apprehensive for him but not like her, no one in the world cared quite like Kyle did. The look she wore said all of that as her eyes dragged along every dip, crevice, and pore on his face, searching for proof that he was indeed all right. He smiled at her, a weak, slightly tired half-twist of his lips and just about every muscle in Kyle sagged with otherwise silent relief. She smiled back, placated-for now-and gave a short nod.
"So are you playing with your gay or are you gonna borrow mine?" Kyle asked Puckerman, putting her game face back on and smirking at Kurt's best friend.
"Depends, how good is yours?" Puckerman countered giving Dave a downright business-like onceover.
"He's adequate," Kyle said with a shrug. "Not as good as me, of course-"
"Of course," Puckerman echoed haughtily. Kyle stuck her tongue out but otherwise ignored his interjection.
"But he's not bad. Certainly better than someone who refuses to put his fingers in the goddamn holes." She eyed Jude with disdain.
Dave's other best friend flipped her off. "Hey, I have frail hands!"
"And less hand-eye-coordination than a drunken pigeon."
"Yeah, that too."
Puckerman laughed. "Okay, I'll take him. C'mon dude," he waved Dave toward him. "Help me regain a little of my dignity."
Kurt snorted. "That is a lost cause."
"You shut up and go with your new breeder, Bright-Eyes," Puckerman said, adding a light push to the small of Kurt's back. It got him a swat and a very nasty look.
"Hey, I never said I would play," he growled. "Can't I just…I don't know, keep score, or something?"
"Umm…no," Jude answered, a little bit snappishly too, which surprised Dave. He waved his hand over the console. "I called dibs on that gig hours ago."
"That's true," Puckerman agreed; his attempt at diplomacy might have been more believable had he not been smirking so. "Sorry, Bright-Eyes, you gotta play."
Kurt scowled. "Dammit, Noah, I don't even know how to play!"
"Wait, what?" Kyle exclaimed looking at Puckerman. Kurt's best friend grinned back fiendishly while her jaw dropped. Her surprise faded into glare whose fearsomeness was cut with an appreciative smirk. "Oh, you bitch. Fine, I deserve that." She sighed, a little dramatically, and stood back up. "Challenge accepted, motherfucker, but I'm getting in a couple practice rounds with your boy first."
"Go ahead," Puckerman said as he dropped down into the nearest seat. He leaned back, propping his feet up on the table, arrogance incarnate as he waved Kyle on like a king. "Luck with that, unless he's dancing Kurt has no coordination."
"Oh that is it!" Kurt hissed. He jerked his gloves and scarf off, throwing them onto the bench on top of his coat, a manic gleam in his eye. Said eyes turned on Kyle who met them squarely. "Okay, teach me how to roll the damn ball. I want his foot so far down his throat that it comes out of his ass."
"Ooh, we're gonna get along nicely," Kyle said. There was a sharkish gleam in her eyes as she looked Kurt up and down that Dave was immediately wary of.
"Of course we are," Kurt replied, as if he'd known it all along. His lips twisted evilly after a quick glance at Puckerman. "Because I am going tell you a really great story involving an obnoxious guitarist and some watermelons that you'll just love."
Puckerman's face turned the same color as his garish maroon shoes and all of his swagger evaporated. "Kurt!"
Neither his best friend nor Kyle were paying Puckerman any attention though. "Nice. Very nice. Come on, New Friend, let's go pick out your ball and shoes." She looped an arm easily through Kurt's, as if they'd known each other for years and Dave definitely knew something was up. "I like your boots, by the way."
"Shit, we are going to get along," Kurt chuckled.
"Kurt, I'm serious, not the watermelon story!" Puckerman called after them. It was a futile plea as both Dave's best friend and his own ignored him. Dave would have felt sorry for the guy if he wasn't so sure that Puckerman was secretly enjoying himself. They had been just close enough in high school for Dave to know that Noah Puckerman relished being talked down to by a pair of nice tits.
He kept a close eye on Kyle, though she seemed on her best behavior Dave had a few sneaking suspicions on why she wasn't giving Kurt the cold shoulder after her earlier death glares. Dave had the sneaking suspicion she was practicing the old "friends close, enemies closer" tactic, just in case Kurt should try and hurt him for whatever reason Kyle had made up in her head. Kyle was a wonderful friend and Dave loved her to pieces but sometimes the woman was paranoid as fuck. He'd have to have a talk with her later about being less crazy, especially towards someone he really wanted to keep peace with. For the time being, though, Dave distracted himself by stealing Jude's Coke, which came with a playful argument about backwash and why it shouldn't matter since Jude had had Dave's cock in his mouth before.
Info Links
Onto Part B
Previous Chapters
Chapter One: Release The Kraken
Chapter Two: Green Eyed Monsters
Chapter Three: Words To Live By
Chapter Four: Left Field Doesn’t Do It Justice
Chapter Five: All The Words Left Unsaid
Author: Celesteennui
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 11505/48652 so far
Spoilers: The more episodes aired the greater the chances are that you will read something that qualifies as spoiler and that this will be considered AU.
Characters/Pairings: Main-Dave Karofsky and Kurt Hummel. Supporting-OC Kyle Queen, OC Jude Bower, Noah Puckerman, Finn Hudson, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez and lots of other OCs because this is a FutureFic. Dave/Kurt battling it out against Dave/OC.
Summary: FutureFic. Dave Karofsky has a life that, as a teenager, he never thought was possible. He’s out and proud, has a flourishing career, an amazing circle of friends and he is neither chubby nor balding. Life is pretty perfect-right up until his boyfriend decides to break up with him. By text. On his birthday. It’s on the rebound from this debilitating blow to his pride that Dave’s path crosses with that of the last person he ever expected to see again: Kurt Hummel. Despite old wounds, though, a friendship blossoms between Dave and Kurt, one that might do more than ease Dave’s conscience over his high school screw ups-if he can let it. A How-To-Guide on getting over a bad relationship all wrapped up in humor, drama, insanity and tied with a smutty bow.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and I make no money from this artistic venture, it is done for the pure enjoyment of writing about one of my favorite shows. Reviews are greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Click Picture to Listen to Chapter Playlist
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For those who don’t Grooveshark here’s what is on the playlist if you ever want to check the songs out:
Heartbeats-The Knife
Cloud-Sia
Let it Happen-Jimmy Eat World
Breathe-Anberlin
How Far we’ve Come-Matchbox Twenty
Whirring-The Joy Formidable
1983-The Incredible Moses Leroy
Strangers When We Meet-David Bowie
With a Little Help from My Friends-Across the Universe OST
You’ve got a Friend-Me First and the Gimme Gimmes
Author’s Note: A thank you to my lovely beta, aureliamonte and to winterswallows for her help, guidance and annoying way of being right. If you have yet to read The Boy Who Lives on Heaven Hill by winterswallows, you really need too. And while you’re there read the sequel Good But Not Nice, it’s a Davetana bromance that I’m sort of smitten with.
After Kurt managed to get back into his seat, with a little bit of assistance from Dave, they continued talking for almost an hour more. Dave was pretty sure that the only reason they'd decided to call it quits was the rush of very drunk college age kids that stumbled in calling for everything deep fried and sugary. This, of course, announced that it was past two in the morning and the bars had all closed down.
"Holy shit…it's nearly a quarter after," Kurt said as he flicked his iPhone on. "We've been talking for over two hours."
"Well, time flies when you're having fun, or coming clean, or whatever the fuck that saying's really about," Dave joked reaching for his own cell. He'd turned the BlackBerry off earlier in the evening, not wanting to be disturbed by Annabeth should she get a wild, workaholic hair up her ass. As the screen lit up and found five new messages waiting for him Dave became very grateful he'd chosen to do that. Opening his inbox he saw that four were from Kyle and one was from Jude.
The first four, from Kyle, were rather touching. In a very…well, Kyle sort of way.
[From Porthos 11:52 P.M.] Good luck, I love you.
[From Porthos 11:57 P.M.] The twink didn't SEEM like he was going to go nuts on you, so I assume things will go well. If they don't and you come home crying, I can't promise that I won't attempt something a little bit physical-assaulty. I love you and I hope you're okay.
[From Porthos 12:03 A.M.] Please, please, PLEASE be ok. My burrito is not nearly as delicious as it should be when I worry about you. Do you hear that, fucker? I love you so much you can taint the taste of steak and guacamole!
[From Porthos 12:11 A.M.] Okay, since you're not texting me back or here crying, I'm going to be a grownup now and assume things with you and pretty boy aren't going terribly. I will stop texting you now. I love you.
Seriously, if you come back damaged goods, skinny better watch his ass because I will come at it with a fire poker and vinegar.
Please don't be mad at me for the threats if you, by chance, hooked up with him in a bathroom stall.
I love you.
Jude's message, the final and most recent of the bunch, though, was the most worrisome.
[From Aramis 1:22 A.M.] Hey, I hope that you check this before you leave Estelle's and go to Chipotle, otherwise you're gonna be pissed. Kyle and Noah decided to go bowling, I think they have a wager. We'll be at Blue Lanes, tell the twink.
I hope everything went okay. Love you.
"Oh Jeebus…" he sighed turning the phone back off.
"What?" Kurt asked. "Are you okay?"
Dave shook his head. "I'm peachy. Puckerman's probably bitten off way more than he can chew though."
Kurt paled and bit his lower lip, blue-green eyes wide in apprehension. "Oh shit, your Amazon didn't kill my letch, did she?"
"No, but she's probably got his wallet by now-don't ask." He shook his head again and stood, pulling on his coat and gloves. "C'mon, they moved from eating burritos to bowling about a block away. If we hurry we might be able to salvage some of your boy's dignity."
Kurt made a face but didn't argue, just slid out of the booth and started to pull on his own winter-wear. Dave was a little amazed by that; the Kurt Hummel he'd gone to school with had never missed a chance at a sarcastic remark. He'd also never let anyone tell him what to do, no questions asked, no matter how polite (or violent, he could guiltily admit) the other person was while commanding. Then again, Dave had never known the real Kurt, just glimpsed the person he projected during school hours. He also had to admit that ten years and all the changes in his life had probably altered Kurt more than a little too.
Dave didn't dwell on that, though, he was a little too preoccupied with whatever devious machinations were going through Kyle's head at the moment. He did, however, remember to hold the door open for Kurt as they left.
"Are you okay with walking a block?" Dave asked once they were out in the arctic chill of Connecticut's January. To his left Kurt seemed a meager adversary for the weather despite his coat, scarf, and gloves. Maybe it was just because Kurt seemed even smaller ten years later thanks mostly to the two extra inches Dave had grown and the muscle he'd packed on to accompany it. "We can get a cab, if you want."
Kurt waved the suggestion off. "I'm fine," he assured Dave. "Lead the way." He gestured dramatically, making Dave smile as he started off towards Blue Lanes, careful to keep his gate a little slow for his companion and trying not to be obvious about that. Dave was sure those long legs could outrun him but they did not have the route memorized into the muscle like his did.
If Kurt thought Dave was being careful of him, though, he didn't let on, he was busy keeping the air pleasant with not-so-idle chatter.
"This isn't all that bad compared to the time we played all over Northern Europe," Kurt told him, voice muffled ever so slightly by the thick green-gray-blue scarf he tucked about his neck. "Late winter early spring is so not the time to visit Finland, Norway, Sweden and Denmark. Especially Finland."
"In summer it's frickin' beautiful," Dave replied. "Kyle and I went a couple of years ago to speak at a con in Helsinki. We took a little bit of a vacation, came early, stayed few days late, ate a lot of cloudberry jam. It was nice."
"Well, in the winter when we went we had a moronic bus driver who couldn't read signs and put us onto an ice road. Did you know that a tour bus can drive on just the left-side wheels if everyone is perfectly balanced in the middle while screaming? It can."
"Fuck, for real?"
The look on Kurt's face could have peeled paint right off a building. "No. I still have night terrors of nearly going into a half-frozen, Finnish lake just because." They had paused at a crosswalk, waiting for the green light to come on and the force of that glare had Dave edging back just a little. Kurt noticed that and the fire and brimstone flickering at the back of his eyes dissipated, much to Dave's relief.
"Sorry, sorry," Kurt sighed rubbing his temples. "Let's just say that that leg of touring was stressful."
"Sounds it." The green light came and they resumed their easy walk over the frosty asphalt. "On the upside, you're making me feel a whole lot better about all the flying I have to do. It's nice to be reminded planes aren't the only deathtraps around, in a way."
"Ugh, I'm fine on planes, but Noah?" Kurt rolled his eyes. "We have sedate him with horse tranquilizers to get him in his seat ever since we flew through a lightning storm back in 2016. Which keeps getting harder and harder because he doesn't want to be unconscious-like he believes that he could actually do something if the plane went down other than piss himself."
Though he sincerely did feel sorry for Puckerman (Paul and Michelle's fateful trip over Lake Ontario in a rickety little Cessna had made air travel difficult on him for quite some time after their passing) Dave couldn't stop himself from laughing. It was probably-no definitely-the mental image of Noah Puckerman with a big wet spot on his jeans and screaming like a little girl that did it.
"If we're drowsy, stressed or anything like that I actually have to keep Kyle awake until we've boarded," he told Kurt. "Once she's asleep there's pretty much no getting her back up. She's like a five-year-old, throws a tantrum and everything."
"Cute." Dave didn't miss sarcasm.
"Sometimes. Occasionally the little bitch kicks."
"I mean this in the best possible way-since, aside from trying to strangle me with her eyes, your friend is a beautiful woman-but there is nothing little about her." Dave chuckled, mostly at the wild way Kurt was gesturing as he continued on. "I had no idea that girls came that tall! And, yes, I know how heterosexual this sounds but-Jesus Christ! The rack on her!" Kurt held his arms out in front of him, fingers laced together, clearly imitating Kyle's chest.
Dave had to stop walking at that point, his laughter choked off into wheezing. He held his ribs and gulped in air, looking up at Kurt with watery eyes as the other man giggled along with him. His ass might have met snowy pavement if there hadn't been a lamppost within clinging distance.
"What? They're quite large, that is all I am trying to say."
"N-not disagreeing. Not at-at all," Dave somehow managed to spit out as he tried to calm down. He felt like he was practically sweating beneath his coat from laughing so hard. "Almost everyone is in awe of Kyle's tits when they meet her. Hell, our friend Vince just recently trained himself not to ogle them when she's speaking."
Kurt snorted. "Well, things with their own gravitational pull do tend to catch a lot of attention."
"Well, that would explain why my and Jude's heads end up resting there at least once a day." At the very questioning look that earned from Kurt, he explained, "Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it. Boobs are awesome. Think of the most comfortable pillow you've had then multiply that by ten. That's what it feels like when you lay your head on Kyle's chest. Warm, soft-occasionally vibrating when she's in a giggly mood-what's not to love about any of that?"
"The vagina all of that is attached to," Kurt deadpanned, though he was smirking as he said it.
Dave heaved a melodramatic sigh and rolled his eyes as they started walking again. "Well, if there were a penis attached it would ruin everything. I hang out with trannies and queens but I'm not into the full combo, thank you. To me, boobs are an asexual place for napping. Broaden your horizons a little."
"I'm just going to say that you are not the first person to tell me I needed to do that," Kurt chuckled. He sidestepped a frozen puddle and his elbow brushed against Dave's. Dave tried very hard not to make too much of the fact that Kurt remained quite close afterward, that elbow continuing to graze his own every few feet or so.
"My argument's the best, though, right?"
"You're advocating their use as headrests, not things that I should be trying to rub my penis between, so…yeah."
"Eww! That's a terrible use of boobs."
"I know! How in the world does anal automatically go into the 'perv' category among straight people while tit fucking remains such a prized novelty? Really?"
"Um, depending on whom you talk to-like ninety percent of all women ever-those are both shit sexploits for guys to attempt if they want to keep their balls intact."
"Really?" Kurt asked his brows raised high. "You know, Jules was the one who suggested tit fucking to me if I ever got curious. And she's into anal."
Really, Dave couldn't help the absolute disbelief that crossed over his face. He almost called Kurt a liar too, luckily, his brain was still on top of things and he shoved that away. Instead "Should I even ask how you know that about your married, lesbian friend?" was what passed his lips.
Their elbows brushed again as Kurt scowled playfully up at him. "Oh, do not even act like every sordid detail of Kyle and Jude's sex lives hasn't been catalogued up there." He reached out a leather-clad hand and gently tapped the side of Dave's head. Dave laughed, swatting lightly at the hand which Kurt had back in his coat pocket within the blink of an eye; there was no missing the smug curve of his mouth. "It's what's real friends do: divulge each atrocity of carnal interaction. Sometimes with vivid pantomime. Also? I live most of the damn year packed in pretty tight with five other people and sometimes earplugs just aren't around when you need them." Kurt shuddered in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the cold. "I've heard things. Things no amount of porn could ever erase."
Dave's "aww" was stuttered by laughter, even as he gave Kurt what was supposed to be an empathetic shoulder pat. It probably didn't come off as very sincere; in fact, Dave was sure by the way Kurt's nose wrinkled up at him that it had not. The smaller man nudged him with his shoulder, not very hard and certainly not enough to so much as even dent Dave's stride. Dave was going to return the favor but stopped himself right before contact was made; memories of pushing Kurt into hard metal were not at rest just yet. He made the mistake of catching Kurt's eye as he ducked his head down and those bright aqua irises widened just a bit; he understood. Mercifully, though, any following awkward apologies were averted by the flashing neon sign depicting several pins tumbling over; they were standing in front of Blue Lanes.
That pale face reddened-more so than what it already had from the cold-when Dave, out of habit really, held the door open for him yet again. Dave tried his best not to enjoy that or make anything of it as Kurt ducked inside. He could not, however, stop his eyes from shifting downward-briefly-to the back of Kurt's jeans when he passed him. Conveniently, Dave told himself it was to check for a wallet line-which he did not see-on the back pocket.
Besides the wonderful toasty heat of the indoors, several other things greeted Dave and Kurt as they made their way into the bowling alley. The first thing that Dave noted was that it was an irregularly slow night for a Saturday (well, Sunday now technically) with the place all but empty. The second was that the walls had been repainted a brighter shade of blue since he'd last been there. The third was that the front desk clerk, a somewhat acquaintance named Bea, was perched on the counter, legs crossed and eagerly watching the lane directly in front of the desk. Where, not coincidently Dave was sure, Jude was sitting. And the fourth thing that registered to Dave was Puckerman, clothed in only his boxers, socks and garish bowling shoes-appearing unperturbed about it too-while he watched Kyle roll her ball down their lane. Aside from no longer wearing her coat, gloves, and exchanging her boots for bowling shoes, Kyle (thank goodness) was no more undressed than she had been when Dave had last set eyes on her.
"What the-" whatever Kurt was going to say was cut off by the loud crash of pins when Kyle's ball slammed the center of their formation. Each little white statue tumbled over helplessly.
"Fuck yeah!" Kyle exclaimed pumping her fist in the air. She whirled around facing Puckerman and sneered; Kyle was fucking obnoxious as hell when she played games and extra loud. "How many is that now? Huh? Come on, tell me, Princess. Lay. It. On. Me. You afraid you're gonna break a nail? Have your husband give you an extra quarter for falsies and put some effort into it, June."
"You're cheating," Puckerman said, though he didn't seem very angry. In fact he was grinning at Kyle. "How in the fuck can you get nothing but strikes for three games? I wanna switch lanes. This one is clearly catering to whatever handicap you've got goin' on."
Kyle snorted, flipped back her hair arrogantly-as-you-please and crossed her arms. "Ugh-huh, whatever, Camilla. Pick any lane you want, you're still gonna be my bitch. Oh," she grinned wickedly, "and since I think I just won-again-you're moving on sans a little something. I'll let you pick between socks or panties."
Bea helpfully called out, "I don't think you should risk the socks in those shoes, honey! Fuck only knows who's had them on."
The fact that Puckerman actually seemed to be taking her suggestion into consideration looking between his boxers and Kyle was enough to snap Dave out of his stupor. Puckerman was easy enough on the eyes (not really Dave's type though) but the last thing Kurt probably wanted to see was his best friend doing a striptease. Or at least that was his guess by the look of sheer incredulity plastering Kurt's face.
"Porthos!" he shouted Kyle's nickname with an edge and put on his best no-nonsense face. All eyes shot towards he and Kurt, though only Jude had sense to look a little bit ashamed. Bea waved prettily while Noah and Kyle both grinned. He shook his head and continued as they walked over to their friends, Kurt yanking his coat off to throw at his best friend with the hiss of 'you're in public!' as he did. "Really? Really, Kyle? Whatever you bet him, give it back."
"Aww," Kyle pouted crossing her arms as her plush mouth seeped into a pout. "Why ya gotta be a killjoy, Davey?"
"Yeah, Davey," Bea echoed, mirroring Kyle's face. The small, dark-haired, young woman didn't really have the lips to pull it off quite like his BFF did but the effort was still good. He shot her a glare as a reward.
"Isn't there a shirt, shoes, pants requirement you're supposed to be upholding, lady?" he asked, emphasizing his point with a high flagged eyebrow.
To Bea's credit, that didn't faze her in the slightest. "I can make exceptions where I see fit," she sniffed quite primly. That, however, melted into a sly grin as she glanced at Noah, who was arguing with Kurt about the coat and trying to get him to take it back. "See that? That's fit." Her eyes lingered unabashedly on Noah's pecs. "Totally fit."
Since Bea was in her early twenties and therefore had yet to grow a sense of shame, Dave stopped trying with her. His friends, though, were a different story.
"I'm a killjoy because you had to play dirty pool on someone I kinda owed," he told Kyle sternly. Dave's eyes flicked to Jude, who was trying and failing sort of hilariously, to look inconspicuous while his eyes darted around the room, on anything that wasn't Dave. "And you," he pointed at Jude accusingly. "You let her do it. You're supposed to be the responsible one. Why in the fuck didn't you stop this?"
Jude threw up his hands. "And what did you want me to do?" he demanded. "In nine years what have I ever done to give you the impression that I can make her listen?" This time it was Jude that threw the accusing finger at Kyle, who in turn nodded, agreeing with him. "Do you remember Pride Parade 2015? I do. I couldn't get her to drop the bat then and I can't call her off now. The best I can do is tagalong and occasionally do damage control."
"Which he did," Kyle defended. "He told me I couldn't just take all of Princess'," she gestured vaguely toward Noah, "clothes in one go. That was plenty of intervention, Athos."
This time it was Puckerman who spoke up to defend Dave's friends. "Karof-Dave," Puckerman paused when he said Dave's name, like it was his first time using it. To be fair it probably was. He carried on quickly enough, though. "Dude, it's cool. I know what I signed up for. We're all adults. The lady schooled me fair and square. Would you stop that?" The last bit was directed solely at Kurt who was still trying to force his coat onto Puckerman. The taller of the two band-mates pushed his friend lightly. "You've seen me naked like a dozen times before and I'm not cold. Calm down."
That withering glare Dave had had the misfortune of witnessing on their walk over returned to Kurt's face and then some as he elbowed Puckerman in the ribs. The guitarist yelped and Kurt did not appear at all bothered. "Noah, I could care less if you whipped your dick out, went outside and slapped it against a streetlight, that's your own business. However, I do care if it all ends up on the forums and kids start asking questions during interviews. Now put your fucking clothes on. Dumbass."
"Aww, come on!" Puckerman exclaimed. "I do that and it's throwing in the towel."
Kurt put a hand to his forehead, as if to silently ask some higher power just why he'd been saddled with this responsibility he called his friend. Dave knew the feeling pretty well and empathized greatly. "Noah, I swear…"
"Dude, whatever she bet you, you didn't have a chance of winning it from the start," Dave threw in, hoping to save Kurt an aneurysm. He eyed Kyle and she smiled saccharinely in return even batting her eyelashes. Absolutely no shame.
"I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that no one," he frowned at directly at Jude who slumped a little in his seat, "mentioned that she's won a few bowling championships." Puckerman's suddenly slack jaw answered for him. "Nope, didn't think so. Go ahead and put on your pants guilt free."
Though Kurt, rather forcibly, grabbed his friend's clothes and put them in his arms, Puckerman remained stationary, staring between Kyle and Jude. "You tricked me," he finally said. Dave couldn't tell if he was just surprised or angry at the two of them, though, for a moment, he was pretty sure there would be yelling. That dissipated with Puckerman's grin, though. "Damn, beautiful and cunning. I'm so in to that." His impressed smile shifted to lewd as he struck a pose and ran a hand down his abdomen, a very come-hither gleam to his eye. "Baby, if you wanted to see the goods you could have just asked."
Dave caught Kurt's eye and was glad to see that he wasn't alone in thinking Puckerman was just a little bit retarded. He almost chuckled at the way Kurt sighed and crossed his arms, silently stressing just how used to this behavior he was and how very sad he was for that fact. Dave offered a comforting smile, remembering all the times he'd had to pry Kyle off some poor jerk who'd given her the wrong look; it was sort of nice to know that every group of best friends came with an equal amount of agony.
Kyle in the meantime, did her best to deflate Puckerman's ego like a balloon. "Please, they were in it to see the goods," she gestured to Jude and Bea. The former flashed a sheepish smile and the latter ignored them as she'd conveniently gone back behind the counter to do something or another. "I was hoping for a challenge. Or to pulverize someone, maybe make 'em cry."
"Do I still get to motorboat those if I squirt a few tears?" Puckerman asked staring blatantly at Kyle's chest in a way that almost all other men feared to do.
"Not a chance," Kyle told him, almost sweetly, as she grabbed a Coke off the lane-table that Dave assumed was hers. "Now put your clothes back on. And if I have to tell you not to call me 'baby' one more time, I'll toss you down the lane. I'm twenty-fucking-seven-years-old and I ain't wearing any diapers."
"Yeah, yeah." Dave was almost impressed by the nonchalance in Puckerman's voice. The other man slid back into his jeans and had his belt buckled so quickly it was almost startling; Puckerman had obviously perfected the dress-and-run. As his T-shirt was going over his head he asked, "So, you wanna try teams for round four?"
"Sure," Kyle said setting her drink back down; it was an automatic response and Dave could muse over it later. Guilt shaded his best friend's eyes, though, as they flicked over to Dave and Kurt, suddenly remembering why she was hanging out with the smarmiest human being alive. "Uh, well, that is if you two are cool?"
"Oh yeah," Puckerman agreed, finally seeming a little bit embarrassed as he too looked them over. "Are you guys…?" Dave was pretty sure the question was left hanging because Puckerman really had no idea what there was for him to ask at all. Not that Dave could really blame him.
He looked at Kurt and found the shorter man already had eyes locked on him, mirroring the guarded, questioning look that Dave himself wore. Things felt okay, Dave, for one, felt lighter since their conversation in Estelle's but sitting there and standing here were two different things. There was a part of Dave that didn't think that he and Kurt could ever really be friends, not with all that baggage they'd carried between them. That same part didn't think that he even deserved friendship; despite their heartfelt exchange a tiny bit of Dave might always believe he didn't even deserve forgiveness.
The strange knot that was winding up in Dave's stomach unraveled in a gush when Kurt shrugged, started to unwind his scarf, and said, "Sure." It was that easy.
Kyle, being Kyle, caught Dave's eye, the lines of her pretty face drawn; she had been worried, he knew. For all of her messing with Puckerman she had been worried, very worried, and she was worried even then. Jude, Dave knew, had also been apprehensive for him but not like her, no one in the world cared quite like Kyle did. The look she wore said all of that as her eyes dragged along every dip, crevice, and pore on his face, searching for proof that he was indeed all right. He smiled at her, a weak, slightly tired half-twist of his lips and just about every muscle in Kyle sagged with otherwise silent relief. She smiled back, placated-for now-and gave a short nod.
"So are you playing with your gay or are you gonna borrow mine?" Kyle asked Puckerman, putting her game face back on and smirking at Kurt's best friend.
"Depends, how good is yours?" Puckerman countered giving Dave a downright business-like onceover.
"He's adequate," Kyle said with a shrug. "Not as good as me, of course-"
"Of course," Puckerman echoed haughtily. Kyle stuck her tongue out but otherwise ignored his interjection.
"But he's not bad. Certainly better than someone who refuses to put his fingers in the goddamn holes." She eyed Jude with disdain.
Dave's other best friend flipped her off. "Hey, I have frail hands!"
"And less hand-eye-coordination than a drunken pigeon."
"Yeah, that too."
Puckerman laughed. "Okay, I'll take him. C'mon dude," he waved Dave toward him. "Help me regain a little of my dignity."
Kurt snorted. "That is a lost cause."
"You shut up and go with your new breeder, Bright-Eyes," Puckerman said, adding a light push to the small of Kurt's back. It got him a swat and a very nasty look.
"Hey, I never said I would play," he growled. "Can't I just…I don't know, keep score, or something?"
"Umm…no," Jude answered, a little bit snappishly too, which surprised Dave. He waved his hand over the console. "I called dibs on that gig hours ago."
"That's true," Puckerman agreed; his attempt at diplomacy might have been more believable had he not been smirking so. "Sorry, Bright-Eyes, you gotta play."
Kurt scowled. "Dammit, Noah, I don't even know how to play!"
"Wait, what?" Kyle exclaimed looking at Puckerman. Kurt's best friend grinned back fiendishly while her jaw dropped. Her surprise faded into glare whose fearsomeness was cut with an appreciative smirk. "Oh, you bitch. Fine, I deserve that." She sighed, a little dramatically, and stood back up. "Challenge accepted, motherfucker, but I'm getting in a couple practice rounds with your boy first."
"Go ahead," Puckerman said as he dropped down into the nearest seat. He leaned back, propping his feet up on the table, arrogance incarnate as he waved Kyle on like a king. "Luck with that, unless he's dancing Kurt has no coordination."
"Oh that is it!" Kurt hissed. He jerked his gloves and scarf off, throwing them onto the bench on top of his coat, a manic gleam in his eye. Said eyes turned on Kyle who met them squarely. "Okay, teach me how to roll the damn ball. I want his foot so far down his throat that it comes out of his ass."
"Ooh, we're gonna get along nicely," Kyle said. There was a sharkish gleam in her eyes as she looked Kurt up and down that Dave was immediately wary of.
"Of course we are," Kurt replied, as if he'd known it all along. His lips twisted evilly after a quick glance at Puckerman. "Because I am going tell you a really great story involving an obnoxious guitarist and some watermelons that you'll just love."
Puckerman's face turned the same color as his garish maroon shoes and all of his swagger evaporated. "Kurt!"
Neither his best friend nor Kyle were paying Puckerman any attention though. "Nice. Very nice. Come on, New Friend, let's go pick out your ball and shoes." She looped an arm easily through Kurt's, as if they'd known each other for years and Dave definitely knew something was up. "I like your boots, by the way."
"Shit, we are going to get along," Kurt chuckled.
"Kurt, I'm serious, not the watermelon story!" Puckerman called after them. It was a futile plea as both Dave's best friend and his own ignored him. Dave would have felt sorry for the guy if he wasn't so sure that Puckerman was secretly enjoying himself. They had been just close enough in high school for Dave to know that Noah Puckerman relished being talked down to by a pair of nice tits.
He kept a close eye on Kyle, though she seemed on her best behavior Dave had a few sneaking suspicions on why she wasn't giving Kurt the cold shoulder after her earlier death glares. Dave had the sneaking suspicion she was practicing the old "friends close, enemies closer" tactic, just in case Kurt should try and hurt him for whatever reason Kyle had made up in her head. Kyle was a wonderful friend and Dave loved her to pieces but sometimes the woman was paranoid as fuck. He'd have to have a talk with her later about being less crazy, especially towards someone he really wanted to keep peace with. For the time being, though, Dave distracted himself by stealing Jude's Coke, which came with a playful argument about backwash and why it shouldn't matter since Jude had had Dave's cock in his mouth before.
Info Links
Onto Part B
Previous Chapters
Chapter One: Release The Kraken
Chapter Two: Green Eyed Monsters
Chapter Three: Words To Live By
Chapter Four: Left Field Doesn’t Do It Justice
Chapter Five: All The Words Left Unsaid