{Fic} The Nigtht Is Long and I Have Far To Go (8/?)
Title: The Night Is Long and I Have Far To Go
Genre: Suspense, Mystery, Drama, Romance
Overall story rating: NC-17
Current chapter rating: PG-13
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
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
Kurt's designer boots hit the pavement at quick, heavy intervals. It's a good thing his feet knew their job, because Kurt was completely lost inside his head, swathed in thoughts of Dave. Dave didn't hate him. That was a good start, but it didn't mean Dave would be pleased to see him, even if Kurt was trying to save his life. People can change a lot in six years. Kurt hadn't, not much, but he'd always had such a strong sense of self. But Dave then and Dave now might be radically different people. You're just delivering the mail, Kurt told himself sternly. This isn't about reconnecting or trying for a second chance. Six years is enough time to learn from your mistakes and move on. Isn't it?
They made so many mistakes back then. Kurt scowled as he strode quickly towards Alphabet City. Yes, they. No way was he taking all the blame for how things ended between them.
"You do realize the meal costs the same whether you eat it or inhale it?" Kurt smiled down at the handsome, dark-haired guy who'd practically attacked the burger Kurt had just delivered to his table.
"Don't care much about your tips, huh?" The young man grinned up at him good-naturedly.
Kurt laughed, loud enough for the diner manager to give him a dirty look. Kurt didn't care. This guy was hot. Strong jaw, broad shoulders, solid muscle under that polo shirt. Kurt had never seen such refined eyebrows on a man.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I keep forgetting the customer's always right."
"That's okay," the man shrugged. "I'm a student. I was barely gonna tip you, anyway."
Kurt pretended to look devastated. His hands flew to his heart melodramatically. "Oh woe is me! Now little Timmy will never get his kidney transplant!"
This time the young man laughed, showing off a pleasant, husky baritone. "Let me guess - drama major?"
"Now I am offended. Don't you recognize a struggling *artiste* when you see one?"
Now the manager was scowling at both of them. He cleared his throat loudly and swept the room with his eyes to indicate all the other customers. Kurt nodded obediently to the manager and turned back to the young man at the table one last time. He decided to be forward. "Listen, I've got to wait on other tables, but after you vacuum up that burger, order something else so I can come back, okay? I don't meet many people who can make me laugh."
The man seemed a little embarrassed, but his hazel eyes sparkled. "How about apple sauce? And my name is Dave, by the way." He offered his hand.
And that's how it started.
"To what do I owe the pleasure? I thought we were meeting at the coffee shop tonight."
"I finished my paper early and now I want a break from all this concrete. Let's go to the zoo."
"That's an intriguing choice for our first official date."
"No...uh... it's not...it's not a date. I'm not gay. I just... like hanging out with you. But it's not a date."
"That's too bad. You're adorable when you're flustered. No, Dave...don't go! I'm sorry. I just feel so comfortable with you, I guess I just presumed. I'd love to go, as friends, to the zoo with you. Just give me 5 minutes to change into something from last season. Cutting edge fashion and nature don't mix."
"This play makes no sense. The dialogue is just gibberish."
"'Waiting for Godot' is a brilliant and groundbreaking absurdist tragicomedy about the futility of human existence. Now either you run lines with me, or we go scarf shopping."
"Okay, okay! Bye-bye ninety minutes of my life I'll never get back. So when does this guy Godot show up?"
"I'm rehearsing with a philistine."
Kurt smiled unconsciously as he crossed Avenue A. Those first few months were so comfortable, so easy, so uncomplicated. But then it began to change.
"Kurt, what are you doing?"
"I'm taking your picture to send my Dad. I told him I had a straight male friend and I just want to prove you're not imaginary."
Dave looked up from his desk and sort of half-frowned. "Why do you always do that?" he asked tensely, putting his Business Statistics text book aside.
"Do what?" Kurt tucked his phone into the back pocket of his impossibly tight jeans and sprawled out on the cheap futon sofa/bed in Dave's studio apartment, intending to memorize his latest part (Alan Strang in 'Equus'), while Dave studied.
"Reduce me to a sexual orientation." Dave started moving around the room, shifting things haphazardly from one place to another, a sure sign that he was agitated. "I mean," he continued, his voice hardening as he rounded on Kurt, "I would never call you 'my gay friend', or worse, 'my token gay friend'."
"I don't understand why you're getting so upset," Kurt snapped defensively. "I wasn't trying to put you down."
"Who a person sleeps with - or … wants to sleep with - who a person … loves - is not the sum total of that person." Kurt's eyes just widened as he watched Dave's anger grow. "And by the way, every time you make some 'gays are all like this, straights are all like that' crack, it just makes you sound like a judgmental bitch!"
An eyebrow shot up. "Well pardon me for noticing that in 44 states you have more civil liberties than I do." Diva Kurt was on the rise, and he was not happy. "And if you think I'm such a bitch, then why do you hang out with me?"
"That's not ...god, Kurt, you're so …!" He drew in a calming breath and held up his hands in a gesture of appeasement. "All I'm saying is you complain about being stereotyped, but you just turn around and do the same thing to others."
Kurt was taken aback. His inner diva quieted. "I never thought of it that way. But you have to understand, I grew up in this intolerant little town and came out when I was 16. But even before that people knew, and they always defined me by my sexuality. I was the town's resident fairy."
"Don't say that."
"Oh, I've been called much worse. You know I was voted Prom Queen my junior year? I don't think I've ever been more humiliated. What I 'm trying to say is that for so long so many people never looked beyond the label they put on me, I guess I got used to labeling them back in self-defense. But you're right, I wasn't being fair to you and I apologize." He paused. Dave looked troubled as he absorbed what Kurt was saying. "Still friends?" Kurt asked timidly.
"Yeah, still friends." Dave sounded a little … sad? He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "And I'm sorry I got so worked up. It's just... never mind." Whatever the mood was, he tried to shake it off. "How'd that audition go for the commercial?"
"No love for me in hand soap land. But don't change the subject. What were you going to say?"
There was an awkward silence, and then a not-very-convincing "Nothing" was mumbled. Were they really okay?
Kurt felt dissatisfied. Something was obviously going unsaid. "Dave, you know you can talk to me about anything. If something's bothering you - "
Dave waived the idea away bruskly. "Nah, just stressed about midterms and shit." His voice was back to normal, rich and confident. "Let's get out of here. You wanna grab pizza?"
"And ruin this complexion? But I'll join you if we go someplace where I can get a salad."
"Deal."
Even after changing out of his costume and removing the stage make up, Kurt was in a triumphant haze. He was still flying high, running on post-opening night adrenaline and copious audience applause, when the knock came on his dressing room door. "Dave! What are you doing here? Did you see the show?"
Dave seemed almost as excited as Kurt. "You sang great! Everyone else sounded like crap compared to you." Dave brought his arm around from behind his back, revealing a very tasteful bouquet of deep purple and pale lavender iris, with a single white magnolia in the middle. Dave blushed and his eyes dropped to the floor bashfully as he stammered out, "The show's called 'House of Flowers' so I figured ..." His voice, already quiet and hesitant, dried up altogether when he lifted his eyes to look into Kurt's.
Thinking back afterward, Kurt realized he should have noticed a lot sooner. The signs were there, the awkwardness, the self-conscious tension, shying away from Kurt's slightest touch. Maybe if he'd paid closer attention, but Kurt was so caught up in auditions and rehearsals. And Dave kept saying it was just the C.P.A. exam "messing with my head." But the exam was over a week ago, and there was still something off about him. About them, together.
If Kurt didn't notice anything before, he was too elated about the performance to pick up on anything now. He sprang from the makeup chair, clapping his hands in delight. "Oh my god, Dave, this is so sweet!"
As his right hand closed over Dave's (meaning to take the bouquet), Kurt brought his left arm around Dave's shoulder. He only intended to give him a friendly, platonic half-hug. But standing so close, Kurt couldn't help inhaling Dave's scent, the musk of him, that heady mix of cologne and masculinity. The smell, the touch, the proximity to this handsome, hard-bodied, husky-voiced, sexy-shy man - it sparked an attraction in Kurt that he had put aside months ago. Without thinking, the actor leaned a bit closer than was prudent, tipped his head up slightly and kissed Dave softly on the cheek.
And suddenly the bouquet was on the floor and Dave was holding Kurt's face in his hands. His eyes burned with such intense sadness, such longing, that Kurt simply froze. He wasn't frightened, just puzzled. But Dave, Dave seemed to be fighting his own private war, and losing. Suddenly he pulled Kurt's lips to his, pressing hard and desperate. Kurt had never felt that kind of passion, that kind of need behind a kiss. Like Dave's very existence depended on keeping his lips melded to Kurt's. The countertenor began to kiss back, teasing the taller man's mouth open so his tongue could get lost in that deliciously warm wetness. Hands traveled, looking for a temporary home. Dave's found rest wrapped around Kurt's slender waist. Kurt's snaked over Dave's broad shoulders and nestled happily in his hair. The kisses cascaded seamlessly, one into another into another, becoming more tender but losing none of the earlier heat.
"Kurt, are you ready to - " Fellow singer Gloria stopped short in the doorway. "Oh! Pardon me."
Dave tried to pull away the instant he heard her voice, but Kurt still had his hands on Dave's shoulders, keeping them connected.
"I'm... I'm... I shouldn't have done that." Dave's voice was hoarse and trembling. He seemed terrified and dropped his head. In shame? In defeat?
"I wasn't exactly complaining," Kurt said gently. His soft hands brushed Dave's cheek, trying to coax his chin up. "Dave? Dave, look at me."
Instead Dave pushed Kurt's arms away and almost knocked Gloria to the floor when he rushed past her.
"No! Please don't leave. We should talk about this!" Dave kept walking, fast and away, never breaking stride, never looking back.
The next morning Kurt was on his doorstep. Neither man appeared to have gotten much sleep the night before.
"Please Dave, please talk to me."
The newly minted accountant just shook his head sadly. Then he started to cry, quietly, against his will, getting angry with himself for crying. Kurt moved to hug him, but Dave retreated.
"Please, Kurt, don't touch me. I'm... I'm all fucked up right now." He looked so broken. "I can't … I don't know what to do." He slumped down on his unmade bed, head in his hands, trying to regain self-control. "All I know is you're one of my best friends, but somewhere along the way I… Fuck!'" His head snapped up and he threw a pillow roughly against the wall. "I hate this touchy-feely shit!" He started pacing the small studio like a caged animal, clenching and unclenching his fists. "It's not friendship anymore, okay?" he spat out angrily. "I don't know what the fuck it is, but it's not friendship!"
"Dave," in contrast, Kurt's voice was very calm, "are you attracted to me?" Dave nodded disconsolately and turned away. "Is it just me, or do you have these feelings for other men, too?" Dave let out a fresh sob, but only one. Now Kurt spoke slowly and carefully. "Have you considered that you might be gay? Or bi?"
"No!" he shouted, spinning around, a hunted look in his eye. "I can't... I won't... If I just ignore it, don't act on it, then it doesn't matter what I feel. I'll be straight in every way that matters."
Kurt was torn between remaining sympathetic and taking deep offense. He decided to stick with sympathy for a little longer. "Matters to whom? Whose expectations are so inflexible that you're willing to deny such a large part of your true self?"
"My family. My church. Don't look at me like that! I know you think Catholicism is just homophobia and misogyny. But it means more than that to me, and it means a hell of a lot more than that to my parents. You sent your father a picture of me? You can't imagine the crap my parents will dump on me if I tell them how close we are, how much time we spend together." He paused, apparently debating whether to continue. "How... how holding you made me feel whole and safe and like my life made sense again."
At that moment, for that moment, Kurt thought he knew what he wanted. He took a step forward.
"You have to go, Kurt," Dave said miserably.
"What if you make me feel safe and whole, too?" The actor took another step towards him.
"Please go," Dave choked out. "I... can't be around you. Not now, anyway."
"Because you want to touch me?" Kurt's tone was tender and caressing. He looked straight into Dave's eyes, unblinking, until Dave closed his eyes and nodded. "What if I want you to touch me?" Another step. "What if I want to hold you," another step, "just hold you, and show you that the world doesn't end because you're hugging another man?" Now Kurt was an arm's length away, and a stray tear or two silently rolled down Dave's cheeks as he fought within himself. The countertenor breathed, lighter than a whisper,"Let me stay."
Maybe it was the sweet gentleness in Kurt's voice. Maybe it was the look of understanding, of genuine affection on his face. Maybe it was the need to be with someone, to feel fully alive, instead of alone. Dave wiped his eyes and nodded. Kurt opened his arms and Dave closed the space between them.
And that's how it started.
Chapter 9: ...and Here's How it Ended