The Night Is Long and I Have Far To Go [3/?]
Title: The Night Is Long and I Have Far To Go
Genre: Suspense, Mystery, Drama, Romance
Overall story rating: NC-17
Current chapter rating: R
Spoilers: None. This story is AU.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. You probably already knew that.
Summary: A premonition of disaster has Kurt desperately searching NYC for his ex-boyfriend Dave before it's too late. But madness rules the night and Kurt quickly finds himself mired in a series of bizarre encounters with mildly out-of-character, wildly out-of-context Gleeks. Featurs all the Glee characters.
Chapter 1: The Witching Hour
Chapter 2: Of Sweat and Premonitions
Chapter 3: The Many Kinks of Jacob ben-Israel
Emma offered to stay and help, but Kurt said he really couldn't impose on her like that. And anyway, he wasn't going to do anything taxing, just make a phone call or two. So after wishing the kindhearted woman goodnight, Kurt gave a quick call to 411, but of course Dave was unlisted. Everyone in New York was unlisted. He booted up his computer. Thank god for the internet, he thought as he quickly typed "Dave Karofsky, New York NY" into the search bar. Almost immediately an entry came back: David Karofsky, Mercer and Associates. Kurt was both relieved and supremely annoyed. Of course it wouldn't be that easy! The midtown address was obviously his office, which didn't help since it was the middle of the night. But now at least he knew Dave still lived in Manhattan. Kurt debated even trying the phone number for Mercer and Associates. Nothing to lose, right?
He dialed quickly and held his breath. After several rings, the voice mail system kicked in.
"Hello," he heard and Kurt's heartbeat quickened. That voice! It had been six years since he last heard that smooth, husky baritone. "This is David Karofsky, Vice President of Mercer and Associates." That voice used to do things to Kurt, make him feel warm and safe and nervous and awkward and... excited. Kurt blushed scarlet, although there was no one there to see. "I can't take your call right now, but if you leave your name, number and the time you called, I will get back to you as soon as possible." Kurt panicked when he heard the beep. What should he do? What should he say? Hang up, hang up! He snapped his phone shut.
"This is ridiculous," Kurt scolded himself, glaring at the phone as if blaming it for his confusion. "He's just a guy you used to know, nothing else. Absolutely no reason to be nervous." He took a calming breath and redialed the number. "Hello. This is David Karofsky..." Dave Karofsky! How many nights did Kurt lie awake after they met, wondering just how deeply he felt - or just desperately trying to figure out exactly what he felt - about Dave Karofsky? "...leave your name, number and the time..." As the deep, masculine voice continued, Kurt was mortified to see his pajama bottoms starting to tent. Argh! This was beyond pathetic, getting a hard-on over a prerecorded message. Kurt tried to focus on the magazines on the coffee table.
"Uh, hi Dave. This is Kurt." He sounded like he'd been sucking helium. Kurt cleared his throat and tried for a lower pitch. "I know we've been out of touch for a really long time" (because I called you an asshole and told you to go to hell) "I hope you're doing well." For Christ's sake, it's not an ice cream social. Cut to the chase! "Listen, I know this is going to sound strange, but I had a dream about you. A nightmare, actually, and it was really vivid and upsetting. Your... your throat was slashed and I was covered in your blood." Kurt grimaced. Worst. Phone Message. Ever! He hoped the chuckle he forced out sounded convincing. "I know, pretty messed up, right? Anyway, I just thought I should... um... check on you or warn you or something. " Kurt's mind went blank. Was there anything else to say? "So... uh... take care of yourself. Sorry to bother you." Lame, so lame. "Well, I guess I'll go back to bed. To sleep, I mean, I'm not seeing anyone right now." Why the hell did he say that? As if Dave could possibly care about Kurt's love life after six years. "Oh, and I'm fine by the way," he threw in, on the off chance Dave gave a damn after the way Kurt had treated him. "Still acting in - " The beep brought him up short.
Kurt closed the phone in defeat, knowing that cringe-worthy call would be completely ineffective, unless some dire accounting emergency occurred that required Dave to check his messages at 1 AM. A rogue percentage point, perhaps?
Kurt tapped his fingers against his chin, and tried to think systematically. Was there anywhere else… Facebook! He returned to the computer and typed in "David Karofsky, Facebook." A profile page popped up, complete with photo. Damn, Dave was looking fine! Same broad shoulders, same strong jaw, mischievous hazel eyes, the dark curly hair. His face was more angular than when Kurt had last seen him, more chiseled. Relationship status: Single. Hmm...no, no, no. You're not after a date, Kurt, you're trying to save the man's life. Kurt tried to ignore his cock, which was twitching for attention again. No other information was available to people who weren't 'friends', just the option to send a message. But Kurt couldn't think of a way to draft an email that wouldn't sound even crazier than the phone message he'd just left, and anyway Dave still wouldn't see it right away. The feeling of dread grew stronger as Kurt sat there trying to think what to do next. Every minute that slipped by could be bringing Dave closer to that dreadful death. If he could just get a damn address... It suddenly hit Kurt who could probably help, but he scrunched his face in distaste.
Jacob ben-Israel reminded Kurt of a Ferengi, in that the building's pale, flabby, slimy superintendent made his skin crawl. Jacob had a thinning afro and glasses look that, combined with his high-pitched nasal drone, fit perfectly with his weird creeper/stalker vibe. He was always sneaking drooling looks after the female tenants, Emma included, and giggling nervously to himself. In fact, it was hard to understand how any woman could live there willingly, knowing Jacob had a master key to the apartments.
But the repulsive janitor was also a total computer geek. Kurt threw on a robe and made his way to the basement apartment. As he got closer to Jacob's door, he heard grunts and groans and moans and whimpers getting louder and louder. "Oh, J.J.," a high female voice wailed breathlessly, "you're so big!" Jacob was getting some action? Kurt smirked. Probably a woman of negotiable affections, as Emma might say. Kurt knocked loudly on the door and then stood back so he could be clearly seen through the peep hole. The bedroom noises didn't cease, but their volume dropped. Ah, porn! The great American pastime.
"Uh, what can I do for you, Mr. Hummel?" Jacob was standing in his boxers and a wife beater, holding a pillow in front of his crotch. Behind him, the same movie was playing on three large computer screens. In it, a naked male avatar was enthusiastically drilling an equally nude female avatar. The computer-generated woman had long, dark hair, modest breasts, a tiny waist and a firm, round ass. She kept shouting, "Give it to me, big man! Harder, harder!" The virtual man had a pasty complexion, frizzy auburn hair, a round face, glasses and …no, that was just wrong!
"Before you say anything," Jacob continued, watching Kurt stare at the virtual porn, "if you've come here seeking recreational narcotics, I'm completely out of that business, despite any rumors Mrs. Jackson in 25B might have spread. Although," he continued in a confiding tone, "I might know someone who knows someone." Kurt shook his head minutely, and glanced around the dark apartment. The place looked like an S&M dungeon with no maid service. Whips, chains, gag balls, riding crops, dildos of various sizes and colors, plus a whole bunch of other sex toys Kurt couldn't even name, were hanging on the walls or scattered about, while papers and empty cartons of Chinese food covered the floor. A gimp costume - yes, an honest-to-god gimp costume - hung in the corner. Kurt made a mental note to warn Emma never to let the super into her apartment. Ever.
"Then perhaps you're interested in my newest entrepreneurial venture - customized virtual porn? Avatar sex. All I need is a photo of you and the person you want to be your partner. Or partners," he added, and Kurt wondered why everyone seemed to assume he was into three-ways. "And then a list of what you want each one to do to the other, and for how long. You know, sixty-nine for 5 minutes, back scuttle for 5 minutes, dirty sanchez, golden shower, santorum snack - "
"No, I -"
"If you just want your enormously endowed avatars to do something vanilla but with special costuming - school uniforms, French maid outfits, cowboys, police officers, clowns - that kind of thing is easy to - "
"That wasn't - "
"Don't worry." Jacob's eyes grew bright and manic. "You're not limited to your actual physical attributes or things you would only do in real life," He was practically salivating. "Triolism, voraphilia, zooerasty, pygmalionism, necrophilia, - really anything is possible. Except underage avatars. I won't touch that perverted shit."
"Zooer...? Jacob, stop! I did not come down here in the dead of night to commission kinky cyber porn."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hummel. I didn't mean to offend you," Jacob whined obsequiously. He licked his lips nervously and gave Kurt an oily head-to-toe leer that caused Kurt to double check the strength of his bathrobe belt knot. "You're not really my type, but I guess if I'm going to branch into creating gay porn it will be good to have some real life experience. But no commitments, understand? I'm too much man to be tied down." Kurt's mouth formed a little 'O' of incredulity. "I didn't mean it that way," Jacob clumsily placed a reassuring hand on Kurt's arm (now I'll have to burn this robe, Kurt thought sadly). "You can absolutely tie me down, Kurtie. And use the hot wax, too. Just don't think it means you own me."
Kurt pressed the heels of his palms to his temples and shook his head to dispel that revolting image. He drew a deep breath. "Listen, Jacob, I just want your help finding the address of an old friend of mine. It's urgent that I get hold of him right away, and I thought maybe you could hack into his Facebook account or something for me."
Jacob blinked slowly a few times and then gave Kurt a look of contempt. "Is that all? Mere child's play, my effeminate friend." He moved some handcuffs and what looked to be a riding crop off the chair next to his desk and motioned Kurt to sit at one of the keyboards. Kurt told Jacob the name and Jacob pulled up Dave's Facebook page.
"Any new juicy scandals on the show?" Jacob asked absentmindedly as he jumped from screen to screen, trying to breech the site's firewalls before his own series of fake IP addresses got blocked.
"An old flame has reentered my character's life, causing a jealous rift between me and my husband. But what August doesn't know is that my ex-boyfriend 'Troy' is actually my former pimp, back to blackmail me about my dark past as a male escort and cocaine addict."
Kurt laughed at the cliché of it all. For the past three years, he had played 'Vaughn', the scheming, bitchy 20-something trophy husband of 'G. August Sebastian Oliver Emerson IV', the much older, foppish industrial tycoon and pathological philanthropist, patron saint of Mercy General, apparently the only hospital - located next to the only police station, which was conveniently situated near both the right side and the wrong side of the tracks - in the fictional town of Port Harbor on the daytime drama Secret Passions, Secret Shames. It wasn't exactly Kurt's dream job. The part was fairly small and there was no occasion on the show for him to sing. On the other hand, Vaughn dressed fashionably and got some wicked bitchy lines, and the gig came with a steady paycheck, which was nothing to sneer at in this economy. There seemed to be no place for him in nighttime TV, so Kurt figured he'd maintain his voice and stick with Vaughn for a few more years, and then try again for a musical role on or (more likely) off-Broadway.
"Got it!" Jacob cried triumphantly. He handed Kurt a print-out of the address, complete with color photo of the street view.
"Thank you, Jacob," Kurt said sincerely. "If I run across anyone who wants customized virtual fetish porn, I will certainly send them your way."
Jacob took the pillow off his lap and gave himself over to his multi-screen fantasy brunette, as Kurt bolted for the stairs. 12:56 AM.
Chapter 4: Taxi to the Dark Side
Chapter 5: Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang
Chapter 6: Who Shot JFK?
Chapter 7: Lord Tubbington Holds Court
Chapter 8: The Ghost of Christmas Past
Chapter 9: ...and Here's How it Ended