FIC: The Proposition: A (Slightly) Inappropriate Love Story (8/?)
TITLE: The Proposition: A (Slightly) Inappropriate Love Story
AUTHORS: Gleekilicious & Tessisamess
PAIRING: Kurtofsky
RATING: Will hit NC17
WORD COUNT: 4,717 // 28,581
SPOILERS: None; AU-fic
WARNINGS: Teacher/Student
SUMMARY: Kurt's pretty sure nothing sucks worse than being the only gay kid in the changing rooms. It's hell but he does a damn good job of skipping gym for three years before he's caught and forced back. Luckily, Coach Karofsky seems to be on his side, and when Kurt accidentally sees a lot more than he was supposed to, he starts to see his coach in a whole new light. After all, who better to lose your virginity to than a (slightly) older, experienced man with a thing for 'twinks'? There's only one problem: Coach Karofsky refuses to give in to the idea, namely because Kurt's not even legal. On the plus side, Kurt's birthday is only three months away...
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
◄ 8 ►
Dave managed to catch Kurt in the hall before third period. He knew it had been Kurt's eighteenth birthday that weekend and, as much as he knew he should probably ignore the event's passing like the plague, he also knew it would be a dick move to not do something for a friend's birthday. And, oddly enough, Kurt... sort of was his friend. He wasn't sure if that was sad or not, that the only dude he hung out with was a student during school hours, but it was better than nothing. And in all honesty? If it were a different situation, one where he didn't have to see Kurt, he'd probably still hang out with him.
So as it was when Kurt passed him in the hall, Dave put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him for a moment. "Wanna eat lunch with me today?"
Kurt blinked, the question catching him off-guard. When they ate lunch together, it was usually after an ‘incident’, and as far as he knew nothing had happened today that would really merit the occasion. Not that he didn’t want to! God, no. He wanted to as much as he wanted to spend as much time as possible with the man.
Kurt shot him a small grin. "Do I have another sign on my ass?" he asked jokingly, though his fingers brushed there just to check. "Sure, I’d-- that’d be great. Thanks."
Dave snorted quietly, glad to see that Kurt was, more or less, over the worst of the trauma. He nodded as he let go. "Alright; I'll see you in a couple hours."
"See you then," Kurt nodded, waving as he continued down the hall to his French lesson. He showed up ten minutes after the bell went for lunch, a salad and drink in hand as he knocked.
"S'open," Dave mumbled around a mouthful of food. He needed to remember to never cook. He didn't know how he kept forgetting, really. He supposed the strain of his shit salary cut in too much for him to be able to afford eating food he hadn't cooked himself. The bottom line, though? His cooking sucked and the leftovers he was eating, which he'd been banking on tasting better after a night in the fridge, had somehow gotten worse.
Kurt came in with a small smile still in place, clicking the door shut behind him and going over to his chair. He eyed Dave’s food. "I hesitate to ask, but... what was that supposed to be...?" Kurt unwrapped his salad, wishing it was home-made. The ones in the cafeteria were... crap. Lifeless and unimaginative.
"I, um... stroganoff?" Dave grinned sheepishly. "Kinda tastes like ass, though --and not in the good way." He cringed, face going red. "Uh. Pretend I didn't say that."
Kurt choked on the first sip of his drink, looking to Dave with shock in his eyes before he blushed bright pink and laughed loudly; harder than he’d done in weeks and coughing a little. "That-- wow... well, so far the conversation’s been riveting," Kurt giggled, still sounding a little hysterical. That was creating some images that-- he would think about that later. Much later. And preferably alone.
Dave laughed quietly. "God, sorry." he muttered. He didn't know why, but he always got awkward and nervous over giving gifts. Said the stupidest shit. "So I ah... may have heard, or read in your file, that it was your birthday last weekend." he fumbled his words a little, verbally tripping a couple of times as he reached over to open the bottom drawer of his desk.
Kurt slowly raised his eyebrows, deciding not to try to eat or drink until he was sure the surprises were over. "I’m... flattered. And yes, it was. Eighteen and two days," he said with a small smile, barely suppressing the urge to add ‘and legal’.
"Sorry for the mess. I never really got the hang of this shit," Dave warned, pulling out a package from the drawer. It... vaguely resembled a present. If it were common to suffocate a present in newspaper and Scotch tape, that was.
But Kurt’s breath caught, something in his chest aching oddly. "That’s... for me...?" he asked, hardly daring to believe it as he cautiously reached out. Badly wrapped or not, the fact that Dave had gotten him something... he didn’t even really care what it was, because Dave had bought it for him.
"Anyway, I know it's probably not anything you were hoping to get, but, I dunno. Kinda wish someone had let me know stuff like this existed when I was in high school." Dave handed the terribly wrapped present over, wondering if it would be more or less lame to think he'd just wrapped it in a lazy rush rather than the truth --that he'd actually tried really fucking hard to make it presentable.
Kurt’s joke about a sex-toy was bitten back just in time as he gave Dave a warm smile and took it, turning it in his hands for a few seconds. "I-- thank you so much..." he crossed his legs, resting the present on his thigh as he started to pick at the tape.
And pick at the tape.
And-- "this is like trying to get into Alcatraz...!" Kurt huffed a good few minutes later, having given up decorum and was now trying to tear the tape. "What is this stuff?!"
"I sorta... had to tape the paper to make it stop going into weird shapes," Dave mumbled before snickering. "You want scissors?"
"That feels like losing," Kurt grumbled, still trying to undo the present. "This is just paper with a tape-wrapping! Next time you need to wrap a present for someone, I’ll do it for you," he pouted, reaching for the scissors finally and starting to hack at the wads of tape.
Dave blushed slightly. "My bad," he laughed. "Maybe next time I'll just get a bag."
"A bag," Kurt nodded, finally getting it open and smiling as he pulled the books out, turning them over.
"Like I said, um. Probably not what you were hoping for --and if you don't want them I can totally return them. But, y'know. I think you should keep them." Dave smiled, a bit awkwardly.
Kurt was grinning softly. "GLBTQ survival guide, and Queer survival guide... both for teens... if anyone else had tried to give me these, I’d be offended, but... thank you," he said, utterly honestly as he looked up at Dave again. "These will definitely come in useful."
"I just... y'know. I don't have, um, all the answers. And I really wish I did, but I figure if there's something I can't help you with, maybe those can. And, uh. Anyway, there's a card in there for the Lima Bean. I always see you with their cups, so..."
Kurt blinked, plucking out said card and laughing gently. "That’s... that’s so thoughtful, and only a tiny bit stalkerish," he joked, smiling widely at Dave - his eyes warm and face lit up with happiness. "Thank you so much... really."
*
"Hey, Dave!" Mr. Schue laughed, standing up from his desk. "Thanks for dropping by. I’m going to be honest, I brought you here to ask a favor from you," he smiled, all warmth and energy.
Normally, Dave would be wary of those words coming from another teacher. Whether it was someone wanting to pass their in-house shift off on someone else or asking if they could cut into another teacher's allotted ration for the Xerox machine, one teacher asking another for a "favor" was rarely anything good. But Schue was, more or less, one of the more honorable teachers. As far as stuff like that went, anyway. Dave figured he had just as much capacity in him to be a tool, just like the next guy, when it came right down to it.
He shut the door behind him, dropping into one of the empty seats, "Yeah? What's up?"
"I’m sure you’re aware of the Glee club," he smiled slowly sitting down too, "and perhaps the fact that sometimes we run little competitions - sing offs and such. Well... we’re holding one! And I was wondering if you’d come in and judge for me. I get accused of picking favorites," Will laughed, "and well... I think three judges is a good number."
Dave shrugged slightly. "Sure, I don't see why not." he agreed. And sure, maybe part of it was just to support Kurt, but if he couldn't support the school's less popular clubs then what good was he, really? The glee club got dumped on enough as it was.
Will grinned wider. "Great. Thank you so much, seriously. I mean, it’ll be fun, but still! It’s this Wednesday, after school in the auditorium. I’ll see you there, Dave. Thanks again."
"No problem, man. So what're we doing? Picking a winning group or something?"
"Not quite! It’s solos this time around, we’re trying to pick a lead for Regionals. I like having a good, clean competition to really showcase every one’s voice and talent," he smiled. "Besides, it’s more fair. No one can complain of favorites being chosen if everyone competes."
"Sounds fair," Dave replied. "Alright, well I'll see you Wednesday then."
*
"So," Kurt said, "two things. One..." he pulled out a Tupperware container from inside a heat-retaining bag, handing it over. "Home-made beef stroganoff," he smiled. "I just couldn’t get over the monstrosity of the one you made, so I included the recipe too." Kurt handed over the slip of paper with it written down in his impeccable handwriting as he pulled out his own lunch.
"And two, I hear you are our ‘celebrity judge’ for the Regionals competition."
Dave snorted, suppressing a grin as he took the container. "Oh, I see. Bribing me with edible food. That what you're doing?" he teased, glancing at the lunch he'd brought with him before pushing it off the edge of his desk and into the trash can.
Kurt laughed as the original lunch clanged into the bin, and he couldn’t resist the wink. "Me? Never. Just, you know, when Mercedes and Rachel belt out those soul-searing notes... remember who brings you decent food," he smirked, unpacking his own.
"I’m joking, I know you’re too honorable to try to rig the competition in anyone's favor. I’m glad for that... whoever wins will deserve to."
Dave chuckled softly. "Well, bribe or not, thanks. I just don't think it's in the cards for me to be able to cook anything that doesn't taste like roadkill." He popped the lid off of the Tupperware container and hummed softly under his breath. "Christ, that smells good. I swear, the last decent meal I had was at my mom's, which was kinda, I'll be honest. Not bad or anything, just different. They're on this try-to-be-good-Jews super Kosher kick right now. I can't even remember the last time they cooked Kosher in that house, if ever."
Yeaah, Kurt was going to bring him lunch more often, he decided. "It’s all about practice and following recipes," he said airily, but he was grinning and a little pink as he watched Dave. The food was still warm, expertly cooked and... well, as good as it looked.
"I cook at home; to make sure my dad gets balanced meals. I’ll bring you bits more often, there’s always plenty spare, and besides, I like cooking. Better than fast-food, right? Take it as a thanks for... well, everything," he said softly.
"You don't have to cook for me, Kurt," Dave protested, even if it was more than a bit half hearted. "After all," he grinned. "If I don't figure out how to do it myself how'll I ever learn to be a big boy?"
"I honestly worry you’ll die before you reach the ability to cook," Kurt smirked, cocking an eyebrow as he bit into his sandwich. "It’s no bother - like I said, I enjoy it and there’s always plenty left. It’ll be healthy, but I promise it’ll taste so much better than the processed crap in food today. Start slow; I’ll give you recipes too to even it all out."
"You're too nice to me," Dave chided jokingly before he started eating. "Shiiit, this is good, dude."
Kurt smiled, looking genuinely happy. "Good; I’m glad you like it." After a few moments of comfortable silence as they ate, Kurt spoke again. "You know, you’re the only person who gets away with calling me ‘dude’," he laughed. "If anyone else tries to call me that, it’s not pretty."
"Trust me," Dave said around his food. "Nothing you could do'd be worse than when I accidentally called Sylvester 'dude.'"
"...oh. Ouch," he laughed, crossing his legs and leaning back comfortably. "What did she do...?! Also; swallowing is a great gift," he said, gesturing to Dave’s mouth before freezing and going bright pink, realizing that what he’d just said could be interpreted as-- well... he flushed more. "I --I meant your food," he mumbled.
Dave laughed, nearly choking on his food in the process. He leaned back in his chair as he tried to get a hold on himself, shaking his head. "Well, we're even now." he grinned.
"Oh, shush," Kurt grumbled, still pink. "‘Tastes like ass and not in the good way’ is a thousand times worse than an accidental swallowing joke." He prodded at his sandwich before cracking, laughing too and shaking his head. "Fine, fine. Even."
*
"Look," Kurt said, drawing something out of his bag with a flourish and putting it on the bed between him and Mercedes, "what I got from David’s office," he grinned. Between them lay a flyer. A simple, slightly crumpled, flyer.
"What is it?" Mercedes asked, eyebrow arching. Sure, she knew what a flyer was. And she could read, but it still didn't explain all that much, other than the fact that The Vault was doing another night for local bands. She didn't mention the fact that it was "David" now and not "Coach Karofsky" like it probably should've been.
"‘Cedes," Kurt said with patience, "remember when I told you David was in a band? And he was the lead singer? Well... one of these has to be his band because beneath the flyer was a set-list!" Kurt was grinning now, almost bouncing with excitement.
"...I think you just crossed into stalker territory, Kurt." Mercedes deadpanned. "What, you wanna go?" She frowned slightly. "And why were you going through his desk?"
"Okay, first, I needed a pen and this was just laying on top. I didn’t go through his desk! I just... took this. Without asking. It doesn’t matter, the point is, ‘Cedes, that we are going and then I won’t look like a creepy stalker...!" He grinned. "See? Perfect! We just happened to be there."
"Right; we just happened to be that The Vault the same night the teacher you have a crush on is gonna be playing there. 'Cause that's believable." Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Why do I let you drag me into these things?" she muttered, which was as good as an agreement.
Kurt beamed, taking her hands and squeezing them. "Because you love me and I’m going to take you for tots beforehand and you know that the fact David is into music and in a band makes me happy, and you like it when I’m happy?" he said sweetly, innocently cocking his head to the side and missing out the whole part about ‘and we both know how much I like him and that makes me happy - and you too, by default’.
"You're so lucky you're my best friend," Mercedes muttered huffily, slumping back in her seat. "The music better not suck, or I'm out."
"It’s David," Kurt sighed with a small smile, cuddling up to her and resting his head on her shoulder. "It’ll be amazing. I bet he’s baritone... perhaps a tenor, but I hope he’s baritone..."
"It's David," Mercedes cooed, fanning herself. "Please, Kurt. I just ate." she teased.
"Oh, shut up," he laughed, reaching up to prod her cheek. "Let me enthuse... it’s the closest I’m going to get to him," Kurt sighed. "Oh, but I made him lunch! Did I tell you that already?"
"Three times." Mercedes snickered.
Kurt rolled his eyes, unable to stop the grin. "Alright, alright, I get the point... I’ll try to shut up about him, okay?"
"No, it's fine," Mercedes grinned. "Now the next time I get a crush you don't ever get to tell me to shut up."
"Never ever in a million years," he grinned, hooking their pinkies together. "I still can’t believe he got me those presents, though... I mean... I can’t be that insane for liking him, right...?" he turned, sitting to face her and biting his lower lip a little. "It’s... not just me making up a complete fantasy, right...?"
Mercedes shrugged slightly. "Well, you're definitely friends," she said tentatively, "But I dunno about the rest."
Kurt sighed softly, nodding. "Yeah... you’re right... but friends is better than nothing, in the end," he smiled.
*
Dave headed into the auditorium, just shy of being late. He'd been stopped in the hall by Sylvester, getting into an overly-long conversation about the rearrangement of his classes. The term "conversation" being used loosely, of course. It was really more Dave nodding and trying to get by as Sue rambled, first starting on the rearrangement and somehow ending on Nazis. He'd managed to get away though, and just in time.
It was weird; he was pretty sure he'd never been in the auditorium when it was so... empty before.
"Oh, Dave!" Will turned in his seat, beckoning him over to the ‘panel’ of sorts where Emma was already sitting. "I was starting to worry you weren’t coming. The kids are backstage getting ready to come on. Sit down."
"Yeah, sorry." Dave grinned apologetically as he sat down, nodding toward Emma. "Sue cornered me."
Will laughed and clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. "We’ve all been there... well! Should we call out the first contender?" he smiled, obviously having a lot of genuine fun and taking pride in showing off his Glee club’s talents.
"Bring it on," Dave agreed, slumping back into his seat. He wondered if the club was any good. It occurred to him that the last time he heard William McKinley's glee club was when he was in school. And that group had been... painful.
The lights dimmed and a short girl with a blinding smile stepped into the spotlight. "My name is Rachel Berry and due to my kind and generous nature I agreed to go first and show every one how it should be done. I will be singing My Heart Will Go On by the one and only Celine Dion."
Dave bit back a snort at Rachel's words. When the music started, though, he only barely suppressed a groan. Sure, she was flat out amazing but god. Did she have to pick this song? Granted, it wasn't about the song choices but the talent, but still...
After a hearty round of applause, Rachel bounced off the stage and one by one the rest of the club sang their songs - from Puck’s bad-boy swagger to Santana’s sexual, smokey voice to Quinn’s sweet and airy tone, there was no denying that everyone brought something different and unique and... really good.
Finally Kurt stepped up, in another amazing outfit as per usual, with all the confidence in the world as he glanced to Dave in the audience and crooked a small smile. "My name is Kurt Hummel, and I will be singing 18 Wheeler by Pink. This," he said, pausing for dramatic effect, "is for all the assholes out there who keep on trying to shove me down."
Emma squeaked quietly at the "language" but didn't say anything. After all, some of the songs that had been sung had similar words here and there so she supposed it was alright.
Dave smiled slightly. He was pretty sure he didn't know a single person as resilient as Kurt Hummel, and wasn't likely to come across one any time soon.
Kurt cleared his throat softly, nodded to the band, and stepped up to the mic.
Kurt gripped the mic, breathing a little heavier as he grinned up at the audience, elated after his best, most heart-felt rendition of the song yet. "Thank you," he said, bowing and leaving with one last glance to Dave.
"Club's way better than when I went here," Dave admitted once Kurt was off stage, turning toward Will and Emma.
Will was beaming, looking a little teary eyed as he nodded. "They’re all amazing... God, this is one of the worst parts of it; choosing the winner," he sighed, the curtains coming down on the stage.
The obvious pick was Rachel, but Dave had a feeling that was the route Schue usually went. And, to be honest, he didn't think her ego needed any more inflating. She could live without winning this one, even if she was technically the best. Which left Dave with the decision of Kurt or Santana. He'd told himself he wouldn't play favorites just because they were friends --and really, he wasn't. Mostly. Kurt had been great, there was no doubt about that. And god knew he deserved the boost that winning a solo would give him.
"Well," Emma said softly, "while I agree that every single singer was amazing... I do think Rachel is the most vocally sound," she said. "I’d be worried about putting a weaker singer up."
"That’s true," Will nodded, "and in our group number, everyone does get their few featured lines," he added with a smile. "So technically no one’s going to lose...!"
"I really don't think she needs the win," Dave pointed out. "And anyway, I don't see putting someone else up there as using a weaker link. You'd just be going a different direction. Getting too comfortable in a certain way can make you sloppy or, worse, lazy; if these kids are banking on Rachel getting every solo how are they going to broaden their own abilities?"
"That’s... certainly a good point," Will murmured, glancing back to Emma. "We’ve had instances like that before... who did you think should win?"
"Like you said, everyone was totally amazing. But ...I think some people need the solo more than others." Sure, guilting them probably wasn't fair, but Kurt winning was fair. He did deserve it as much as he probably needed it and just because Will was Rachel's fan club president he wasn't going to sit back and just let it happen.
They both glanced down to the sheet of paper and Kurt’s name. The teachers were aware of the bullying Kurt got, of the taunts and insults - of the locker-room and the sign incident. "Well... let’s put it to a vote," he smiled. "We can write down who we all think should win and go from there unless it’s unanimous."
"Sure," Dave nodded. "S'fair." He reached over and pulled a blank sheet of paper out from under the club roster and tore it into thirds, handing one to each of them before immediately scrawling Kurt's name down and folding it over.
After a long second and a glance to the list, it was clear that Emma and Will had done the same. "Alright," he said, smiling and winking, "on the count of three. One... two... three!"
The three strips of paper with Kurt’s name seemed to shine up at them under the harsh lights. "Well!" Emma said, smiling too. "Yay, Kurt!" Will laughed, touching her arm and nodding.
"Kurt it is. Shall we go break them the happy news?"
*
"Chicken pasta salad with sweetcorn," Kurt said, pushing over the Tupperware box along with a folded sheet of paper. "And the recipe," he grinned. "Enjoy." Kurt pulled out his own box, opening the lid and grabbing his fork as he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, relaxing.
Dave would probably never admit it, but he loved the days when Kurt brought him lunch. He never came without his own, though. He didn't want to look like he was expecting it out of him --because he wasn't. In all honesty, he'd only tried one of the recipes at home himself. It had been... well. Better than his other attempts, but still not all that good. Dave was a food murderer.
"Thanks. Again," Dave laughed.
It was lucky for Dave that the lunches were becoming more and more regular, then. One of the high points in Kurt’s day was to eat with him, and the only thing better was to bring in food and literally watch Dave’s face light up with happiness as Kurt handed something over and his own was joyfully chucked in the trash.
"It’s my pleasure," he smiled honestly, starting into his own. "So," he asked, casually, "do you have plans this weekend...?" Except for playing with your band at the venue I just so happen to also be attending, not that you’re going to know until we’re both there, muah ha ha ha.
Dave shrugged slightly. "Some friends are coming into town. Lucy's turning twenty one so we're gonna take him out and shit."
"A guy called Lucy...?" Kurt asked, raising his eyebrows. "That’s... unusual, to say the least," he smiled. "I’m sure it’ll be great, though. Not that there’s much to do in Lima," he snorted.
Dave laughed. "He swore up and down when we met him that his parents were in some cult and named him Lucifer. No one bought that shit, course. His real name's Lucas. I was gonna take him to Somewhere in Time but I figure since everyone else is coming too I probably shouldn't be a dick and make the other guys go to a gay bar. 'Sides, bar's a bar. We can go pretty much anywhere and get him so drunk he doesn't remember his name."
Kurt laughed along, sipping his coffee he’d brought in a thermos. "Well, that sounds like it’ll be a lot of fun if you come out of it with your liver still intact. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone if you come in on Monday still looking a bit worse for the wear," he winked, smiling around his fork.
Nor would he tell anyone about the fact he and Mercedes were going to gatecrash that party so he could finally hear Dave sing. And... spend a bit of time with him off-campus.
"Appreciate it." Dave replied. "God, how do you do this, dude?" he asked, gesturing toward his half eaten meal with his fork.
"Talent and dedication, just like everything else," he smirked. "Besides... after my mother died, it was my cooking or my dad deep-frying everything he could touch. I’ve made some truly horrendous meals, but... I like to think I’m over that now," Kurt smiled. A few moments later he spoke again.
"Speaking of talent... I have to ask... did you... did you rig that competition so I’d win?"
"Sadly, I'm not so devious that I could rig a competition." Dave said honestly. And, really, it was the truth. Rigging was cheating. All Dave did was point out the obvious and make a good enough argument so that the right person won.
"...so Mr. Schue honestly picked me over Rachel?" He asked, eyebrows raised. "It’s okay if you did, you know. I mean, I’m not going to go relinquish my turn in the spotlight - I’m not that nice," he laughed.
"I really didn't," Dave snorted. "'Course, if she'd sung anything but that fucking Titanic song she might've won," he teased.
Kurt burst out laughing, believing him and elated that... he’d genuinely won. He’d won, and now he was going to sing the lead and... "I hate that song too," he wheezed, still grinning. "I told her to sing it; I hoped the ‘judges’ would find it too predictable and overdone... and I guess it worked!"
Dave shook his head, laughing under his breath. "You're a total asshole," he murmured.
"No way, I’m just a devious sneak," he laughed, eating another few mouthfuls of pasta. "As I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough..." he added, almost flirtatiously.
◄◄ ■ ►►
AN: The books Dave bought for Kurt are here and here.
AUTHORS: Gleekilicious & Tessisamess
PAIRING: Kurtofsky
RATING: Will hit NC17
WORD COUNT: 4,717 // 28,581
SPOILERS: None; AU-fic
WARNINGS: Teacher/Student
SUMMARY: Kurt's pretty sure nothing sucks worse than being the only gay kid in the changing rooms. It's hell but he does a damn good job of skipping gym for three years before he's caught and forced back. Luckily, Coach Karofsky seems to be on his side, and when Kurt accidentally sees a lot more than he was supposed to, he starts to see his coach in a whole new light. After all, who better to lose your virginity to than a (slightly) older, experienced man with a thing for 'twinks'? There's only one problem: Coach Karofsky refuses to give in to the idea, namely because Kurt's not even legal. On the plus side, Kurt's birthday is only three months away...
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
◄ 8 ►
Dave managed to catch Kurt in the hall before third period. He knew it had been Kurt's eighteenth birthday that weekend and, as much as he knew he should probably ignore the event's passing like the plague, he also knew it would be a dick move to not do something for a friend's birthday. And, oddly enough, Kurt... sort of was his friend. He wasn't sure if that was sad or not, that the only dude he hung out with was a student during school hours, but it was better than nothing. And in all honesty? If it were a different situation, one where he didn't have to see Kurt, he'd probably still hang out with him.
So as it was when Kurt passed him in the hall, Dave put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him for a moment. "Wanna eat lunch with me today?"
Kurt blinked, the question catching him off-guard. When they ate lunch together, it was usually after an ‘incident’, and as far as he knew nothing had happened today that would really merit the occasion. Not that he didn’t want to! God, no. He wanted to as much as he wanted to spend as much time as possible with the man.
Kurt shot him a small grin. "Do I have another sign on my ass?" he asked jokingly, though his fingers brushed there just to check. "Sure, I’d-- that’d be great. Thanks."
Dave snorted quietly, glad to see that Kurt was, more or less, over the worst of the trauma. He nodded as he let go. "Alright; I'll see you in a couple hours."
"See you then," Kurt nodded, waving as he continued down the hall to his French lesson. He showed up ten minutes after the bell went for lunch, a salad and drink in hand as he knocked.
"S'open," Dave mumbled around a mouthful of food. He needed to remember to never cook. He didn't know how he kept forgetting, really. He supposed the strain of his shit salary cut in too much for him to be able to afford eating food he hadn't cooked himself. The bottom line, though? His cooking sucked and the leftovers he was eating, which he'd been banking on tasting better after a night in the fridge, had somehow gotten worse.
Kurt came in with a small smile still in place, clicking the door shut behind him and going over to his chair. He eyed Dave’s food. "I hesitate to ask, but... what was that supposed to be...?" Kurt unwrapped his salad, wishing it was home-made. The ones in the cafeteria were... crap. Lifeless and unimaginative.
"I, um... stroganoff?" Dave grinned sheepishly. "Kinda tastes like ass, though --and not in the good way." He cringed, face going red. "Uh. Pretend I didn't say that."
Kurt choked on the first sip of his drink, looking to Dave with shock in his eyes before he blushed bright pink and laughed loudly; harder than he’d done in weeks and coughing a little. "That-- wow... well, so far the conversation’s been riveting," Kurt giggled, still sounding a little hysterical. That was creating some images that-- he would think about that later. Much later. And preferably alone.
Dave laughed quietly. "God, sorry." he muttered. He didn't know why, but he always got awkward and nervous over giving gifts. Said the stupidest shit. "So I ah... may have heard, or read in your file, that it was your birthday last weekend." he fumbled his words a little, verbally tripping a couple of times as he reached over to open the bottom drawer of his desk.
Kurt slowly raised his eyebrows, deciding not to try to eat or drink until he was sure the surprises were over. "I’m... flattered. And yes, it was. Eighteen and two days," he said with a small smile, barely suppressing the urge to add ‘and legal’.
"Sorry for the mess. I never really got the hang of this shit," Dave warned, pulling out a package from the drawer. It... vaguely resembled a present. If it were common to suffocate a present in newspaper and Scotch tape, that was.
But Kurt’s breath caught, something in his chest aching oddly. "That’s... for me...?" he asked, hardly daring to believe it as he cautiously reached out. Badly wrapped or not, the fact that Dave had gotten him something... he didn’t even really care what it was, because Dave had bought it for him.
"Anyway, I know it's probably not anything you were hoping to get, but, I dunno. Kinda wish someone had let me know stuff like this existed when I was in high school." Dave handed the terribly wrapped present over, wondering if it would be more or less lame to think he'd just wrapped it in a lazy rush rather than the truth --that he'd actually tried really fucking hard to make it presentable.
Kurt’s joke about a sex-toy was bitten back just in time as he gave Dave a warm smile and took it, turning it in his hands for a few seconds. "I-- thank you so much..." he crossed his legs, resting the present on his thigh as he started to pick at the tape.
And pick at the tape.
And-- "this is like trying to get into Alcatraz...!" Kurt huffed a good few minutes later, having given up decorum and was now trying to tear the tape. "What is this stuff?!"
"I sorta... had to tape the paper to make it stop going into weird shapes," Dave mumbled before snickering. "You want scissors?"
"That feels like losing," Kurt grumbled, still trying to undo the present. "This is just paper with a tape-wrapping! Next time you need to wrap a present for someone, I’ll do it for you," he pouted, reaching for the scissors finally and starting to hack at the wads of tape.
Dave blushed slightly. "My bad," he laughed. "Maybe next time I'll just get a bag."
"A bag," Kurt nodded, finally getting it open and smiling as he pulled the books out, turning them over.
"Like I said, um. Probably not what you were hoping for --and if you don't want them I can totally return them. But, y'know. I think you should keep them." Dave smiled, a bit awkwardly.
Kurt was grinning softly. "GLBTQ survival guide, and Queer survival guide... both for teens... if anyone else had tried to give me these, I’d be offended, but... thank you," he said, utterly honestly as he looked up at Dave again. "These will definitely come in useful."
"I just... y'know. I don't have, um, all the answers. And I really wish I did, but I figure if there's something I can't help you with, maybe those can. And, uh. Anyway, there's a card in there for the Lima Bean. I always see you with their cups, so..."
Kurt blinked, plucking out said card and laughing gently. "That’s... that’s so thoughtful, and only a tiny bit stalkerish," he joked, smiling widely at Dave - his eyes warm and face lit up with happiness. "Thank you so much... really."
*
"Hey, Dave!" Mr. Schue laughed, standing up from his desk. "Thanks for dropping by. I’m going to be honest, I brought you here to ask a favor from you," he smiled, all warmth and energy.
Normally, Dave would be wary of those words coming from another teacher. Whether it was someone wanting to pass their in-house shift off on someone else or asking if they could cut into another teacher's allotted ration for the Xerox machine, one teacher asking another for a "favor" was rarely anything good. But Schue was, more or less, one of the more honorable teachers. As far as stuff like that went, anyway. Dave figured he had just as much capacity in him to be a tool, just like the next guy, when it came right down to it.
He shut the door behind him, dropping into one of the empty seats, "Yeah? What's up?"
"I’m sure you’re aware of the Glee club," he smiled slowly sitting down too, "and perhaps the fact that sometimes we run little competitions - sing offs and such. Well... we’re holding one! And I was wondering if you’d come in and judge for me. I get accused of picking favorites," Will laughed, "and well... I think three judges is a good number."
Dave shrugged slightly. "Sure, I don't see why not." he agreed. And sure, maybe part of it was just to support Kurt, but if he couldn't support the school's less popular clubs then what good was he, really? The glee club got dumped on enough as it was.
Will grinned wider. "Great. Thank you so much, seriously. I mean, it’ll be fun, but still! It’s this Wednesday, after school in the auditorium. I’ll see you there, Dave. Thanks again."
"No problem, man. So what're we doing? Picking a winning group or something?"
"Not quite! It’s solos this time around, we’re trying to pick a lead for Regionals. I like having a good, clean competition to really showcase every one’s voice and talent," he smiled. "Besides, it’s more fair. No one can complain of favorites being chosen if everyone competes."
"Sounds fair," Dave replied. "Alright, well I'll see you Wednesday then."
*
"So," Kurt said, "two things. One..." he pulled out a Tupperware container from inside a heat-retaining bag, handing it over. "Home-made beef stroganoff," he smiled. "I just couldn’t get over the monstrosity of the one you made, so I included the recipe too." Kurt handed over the slip of paper with it written down in his impeccable handwriting as he pulled out his own lunch.
"And two, I hear you are our ‘celebrity judge’ for the Regionals competition."
Dave snorted, suppressing a grin as he took the container. "Oh, I see. Bribing me with edible food. That what you're doing?" he teased, glancing at the lunch he'd brought with him before pushing it off the edge of his desk and into the trash can.
Kurt laughed as the original lunch clanged into the bin, and he couldn’t resist the wink. "Me? Never. Just, you know, when Mercedes and Rachel belt out those soul-searing notes... remember who brings you decent food," he smirked, unpacking his own.
"I’m joking, I know you’re too honorable to try to rig the competition in anyone's favor. I’m glad for that... whoever wins will deserve to."
Dave chuckled softly. "Well, bribe or not, thanks. I just don't think it's in the cards for me to be able to cook anything that doesn't taste like roadkill." He popped the lid off of the Tupperware container and hummed softly under his breath. "Christ, that smells good. I swear, the last decent meal I had was at my mom's, which was kinda, I'll be honest. Not bad or anything, just different. They're on this try-to-be-good-Jews super Kosher kick right now. I can't even remember the last time they cooked Kosher in that house, if ever."
Yeaah, Kurt was going to bring him lunch more often, he decided. "It’s all about practice and following recipes," he said airily, but he was grinning and a little pink as he watched Dave. The food was still warm, expertly cooked and... well, as good as it looked.
"I cook at home; to make sure my dad gets balanced meals. I’ll bring you bits more often, there’s always plenty spare, and besides, I like cooking. Better than fast-food, right? Take it as a thanks for... well, everything," he said softly.
"You don't have to cook for me, Kurt," Dave protested, even if it was more than a bit half hearted. "After all," he grinned. "If I don't figure out how to do it myself how'll I ever learn to be a big boy?"
"I honestly worry you’ll die before you reach the ability to cook," Kurt smirked, cocking an eyebrow as he bit into his sandwich. "It’s no bother - like I said, I enjoy it and there’s always plenty left. It’ll be healthy, but I promise it’ll taste so much better than the processed crap in food today. Start slow; I’ll give you recipes too to even it all out."
"You're too nice to me," Dave chided jokingly before he started eating. "Shiiit, this is good, dude."
Kurt smiled, looking genuinely happy. "Good; I’m glad you like it." After a few moments of comfortable silence as they ate, Kurt spoke again. "You know, you’re the only person who gets away with calling me ‘dude’," he laughed. "If anyone else tries to call me that, it’s not pretty."
"Trust me," Dave said around his food. "Nothing you could do'd be worse than when I accidentally called Sylvester 'dude.'"
"...oh. Ouch," he laughed, crossing his legs and leaning back comfortably. "What did she do...?! Also; swallowing is a great gift," he said, gesturing to Dave’s mouth before freezing and going bright pink, realizing that what he’d just said could be interpreted as-- well... he flushed more. "I --I meant your food," he mumbled.
Dave laughed, nearly choking on his food in the process. He leaned back in his chair as he tried to get a hold on himself, shaking his head. "Well, we're even now." he grinned.
"Oh, shush," Kurt grumbled, still pink. "‘Tastes like ass and not in the good way’ is a thousand times worse than an accidental swallowing joke." He prodded at his sandwich before cracking, laughing too and shaking his head. "Fine, fine. Even."
*
"Look," Kurt said, drawing something out of his bag with a flourish and putting it on the bed between him and Mercedes, "what I got from David’s office," he grinned. Between them lay a flyer. A simple, slightly crumpled, flyer.
"What is it?" Mercedes asked, eyebrow arching. Sure, she knew what a flyer was. And she could read, but it still didn't explain all that much, other than the fact that The Vault was doing another night for local bands. She didn't mention the fact that it was "David" now and not "Coach Karofsky" like it probably should've been.
"‘Cedes," Kurt said with patience, "remember when I told you David was in a band? And he was the lead singer? Well... one of these has to be his band because beneath the flyer was a set-list!" Kurt was grinning now, almost bouncing with excitement.
"...I think you just crossed into stalker territory, Kurt." Mercedes deadpanned. "What, you wanna go?" She frowned slightly. "And why were you going through his desk?"
"Okay, first, I needed a pen and this was just laying on top. I didn’t go through his desk! I just... took this. Without asking. It doesn’t matter, the point is, ‘Cedes, that we are going and then I won’t look like a creepy stalker...!" He grinned. "See? Perfect! We just happened to be there."
"Right; we just happened to be that The Vault the same night the teacher you have a crush on is gonna be playing there. 'Cause that's believable." Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Why do I let you drag me into these things?" she muttered, which was as good as an agreement.
Kurt beamed, taking her hands and squeezing them. "Because you love me and I’m going to take you for tots beforehand and you know that the fact David is into music and in a band makes me happy, and you like it when I’m happy?" he said sweetly, innocently cocking his head to the side and missing out the whole part about ‘and we both know how much I like him and that makes me happy - and you too, by default’.
"You're so lucky you're my best friend," Mercedes muttered huffily, slumping back in her seat. "The music better not suck, or I'm out."
"It’s David," Kurt sighed with a small smile, cuddling up to her and resting his head on her shoulder. "It’ll be amazing. I bet he’s baritone... perhaps a tenor, but I hope he’s baritone..."
"It's David," Mercedes cooed, fanning herself. "Please, Kurt. I just ate." she teased.
"Oh, shut up," he laughed, reaching up to prod her cheek. "Let me enthuse... it’s the closest I’m going to get to him," Kurt sighed. "Oh, but I made him lunch! Did I tell you that already?"
"Three times." Mercedes snickered.
Kurt rolled his eyes, unable to stop the grin. "Alright, alright, I get the point... I’ll try to shut up about him, okay?"
"No, it's fine," Mercedes grinned. "Now the next time I get a crush you don't ever get to tell me to shut up."
"Never ever in a million years," he grinned, hooking their pinkies together. "I still can’t believe he got me those presents, though... I mean... I can’t be that insane for liking him, right...?" he turned, sitting to face her and biting his lower lip a little. "It’s... not just me making up a complete fantasy, right...?"
Mercedes shrugged slightly. "Well, you're definitely friends," she said tentatively, "But I dunno about the rest."
Kurt sighed softly, nodding. "Yeah... you’re right... but friends is better than nothing, in the end," he smiled.
*
Dave headed into the auditorium, just shy of being late. He'd been stopped in the hall by Sylvester, getting into an overly-long conversation about the rearrangement of his classes. The term "conversation" being used loosely, of course. It was really more Dave nodding and trying to get by as Sue rambled, first starting on the rearrangement and somehow ending on Nazis. He'd managed to get away though, and just in time.
It was weird; he was pretty sure he'd never been in the auditorium when it was so... empty before.
"Oh, Dave!" Will turned in his seat, beckoning him over to the ‘panel’ of sorts where Emma was already sitting. "I was starting to worry you weren’t coming. The kids are backstage getting ready to come on. Sit down."
"Yeah, sorry." Dave grinned apologetically as he sat down, nodding toward Emma. "Sue cornered me."
Will laughed and clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. "We’ve all been there... well! Should we call out the first contender?" he smiled, obviously having a lot of genuine fun and taking pride in showing off his Glee club’s talents.
"Bring it on," Dave agreed, slumping back into his seat. He wondered if the club was any good. It occurred to him that the last time he heard William McKinley's glee club was when he was in school. And that group had been... painful.
The lights dimmed and a short girl with a blinding smile stepped into the spotlight. "My name is Rachel Berry and due to my kind and generous nature I agreed to go first and show every one how it should be done. I will be singing My Heart Will Go On by the one and only Celine Dion."
Dave bit back a snort at Rachel's words. When the music started, though, he only barely suppressed a groan. Sure, she was flat out amazing but god. Did she have to pick this song? Granted, it wasn't about the song choices but the talent, but still...
After a hearty round of applause, Rachel bounced off the stage and one by one the rest of the club sang their songs - from Puck’s bad-boy swagger to Santana’s sexual, smokey voice to Quinn’s sweet and airy tone, there was no denying that everyone brought something different and unique and... really good.
Finally Kurt stepped up, in another amazing outfit as per usual, with all the confidence in the world as he glanced to Dave in the audience and crooked a small smile. "My name is Kurt Hummel, and I will be singing 18 Wheeler by Pink. This," he said, pausing for dramatic effect, "is for all the assholes out there who keep on trying to shove me down."
Emma squeaked quietly at the "language" but didn't say anything. After all, some of the songs that had been sung had similar words here and there so she supposed it was alright.
Dave smiled slightly. He was pretty sure he didn't know a single person as resilient as Kurt Hummel, and wasn't likely to come across one any time soon.
Kurt cleared his throat softly, nodded to the band, and stepped up to the mic.
Kurt gripped the mic, breathing a little heavier as he grinned up at the audience, elated after his best, most heart-felt rendition of the song yet. "Thank you," he said, bowing and leaving with one last glance to Dave.
"Club's way better than when I went here," Dave admitted once Kurt was off stage, turning toward Will and Emma.
Will was beaming, looking a little teary eyed as he nodded. "They’re all amazing... God, this is one of the worst parts of it; choosing the winner," he sighed, the curtains coming down on the stage.
The obvious pick was Rachel, but Dave had a feeling that was the route Schue usually went. And, to be honest, he didn't think her ego needed any more inflating. She could live without winning this one, even if she was technically the best. Which left Dave with the decision of Kurt or Santana. He'd told himself he wouldn't play favorites just because they were friends --and really, he wasn't. Mostly. Kurt had been great, there was no doubt about that. And god knew he deserved the boost that winning a solo would give him.
"Well," Emma said softly, "while I agree that every single singer was amazing... I do think Rachel is the most vocally sound," she said. "I’d be worried about putting a weaker singer up."
"That’s true," Will nodded, "and in our group number, everyone does get their few featured lines," he added with a smile. "So technically no one’s going to lose...!"
"I really don't think she needs the win," Dave pointed out. "And anyway, I don't see putting someone else up there as using a weaker link. You'd just be going a different direction. Getting too comfortable in a certain way can make you sloppy or, worse, lazy; if these kids are banking on Rachel getting every solo how are they going to broaden their own abilities?"
"That’s... certainly a good point," Will murmured, glancing back to Emma. "We’ve had instances like that before... who did you think should win?"
"Like you said, everyone was totally amazing. But ...I think some people need the solo more than others." Sure, guilting them probably wasn't fair, but Kurt winning was fair. He did deserve it as much as he probably needed it and just because Will was Rachel's fan club president he wasn't going to sit back and just let it happen.
They both glanced down to the sheet of paper and Kurt’s name. The teachers were aware of the bullying Kurt got, of the taunts and insults - of the locker-room and the sign incident. "Well... let’s put it to a vote," he smiled. "We can write down who we all think should win and go from there unless it’s unanimous."
"Sure," Dave nodded. "S'fair." He reached over and pulled a blank sheet of paper out from under the club roster and tore it into thirds, handing one to each of them before immediately scrawling Kurt's name down and folding it over.
After a long second and a glance to the list, it was clear that Emma and Will had done the same. "Alright," he said, smiling and winking, "on the count of three. One... two... three!"
The three strips of paper with Kurt’s name seemed to shine up at them under the harsh lights. "Well!" Emma said, smiling too. "Yay, Kurt!" Will laughed, touching her arm and nodding.
"Kurt it is. Shall we go break them the happy news?"
*
"Chicken pasta salad with sweetcorn," Kurt said, pushing over the Tupperware box along with a folded sheet of paper. "And the recipe," he grinned. "Enjoy." Kurt pulled out his own box, opening the lid and grabbing his fork as he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, relaxing.
Dave would probably never admit it, but he loved the days when Kurt brought him lunch. He never came without his own, though. He didn't want to look like he was expecting it out of him --because he wasn't. In all honesty, he'd only tried one of the recipes at home himself. It had been... well. Better than his other attempts, but still not all that good. Dave was a food murderer.
"Thanks. Again," Dave laughed.
It was lucky for Dave that the lunches were becoming more and more regular, then. One of the high points in Kurt’s day was to eat with him, and the only thing better was to bring in food and literally watch Dave’s face light up with happiness as Kurt handed something over and his own was joyfully chucked in the trash.
"It’s my pleasure," he smiled honestly, starting into his own. "So," he asked, casually, "do you have plans this weekend...?" Except for playing with your band at the venue I just so happen to also be attending, not that you’re going to know until we’re both there, muah ha ha ha.
Dave shrugged slightly. "Some friends are coming into town. Lucy's turning twenty one so we're gonna take him out and shit."
"A guy called Lucy...?" Kurt asked, raising his eyebrows. "That’s... unusual, to say the least," he smiled. "I’m sure it’ll be great, though. Not that there’s much to do in Lima," he snorted.
Dave laughed. "He swore up and down when we met him that his parents were in some cult and named him Lucifer. No one bought that shit, course. His real name's Lucas. I was gonna take him to Somewhere in Time but I figure since everyone else is coming too I probably shouldn't be a dick and make the other guys go to a gay bar. 'Sides, bar's a bar. We can go pretty much anywhere and get him so drunk he doesn't remember his name."
Kurt laughed along, sipping his coffee he’d brought in a thermos. "Well, that sounds like it’ll be a lot of fun if you come out of it with your liver still intact. And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone if you come in on Monday still looking a bit worse for the wear," he winked, smiling around his fork.
Nor would he tell anyone about the fact he and Mercedes were going to gatecrash that party so he could finally hear Dave sing. And... spend a bit of time with him off-campus.
"Appreciate it." Dave replied. "God, how do you do this, dude?" he asked, gesturing toward his half eaten meal with his fork.
"Talent and dedication, just like everything else," he smirked. "Besides... after my mother died, it was my cooking or my dad deep-frying everything he could touch. I’ve made some truly horrendous meals, but... I like to think I’m over that now," Kurt smiled. A few moments later he spoke again.
"Speaking of talent... I have to ask... did you... did you rig that competition so I’d win?"
"Sadly, I'm not so devious that I could rig a competition." Dave said honestly. And, really, it was the truth. Rigging was cheating. All Dave did was point out the obvious and make a good enough argument so that the right person won.
"...so Mr. Schue honestly picked me over Rachel?" He asked, eyebrows raised. "It’s okay if you did, you know. I mean, I’m not going to go relinquish my turn in the spotlight - I’m not that nice," he laughed.
"I really didn't," Dave snorted. "'Course, if she'd sung anything but that fucking Titanic song she might've won," he teased.
Kurt burst out laughing, believing him and elated that... he’d genuinely won. He’d won, and now he was going to sing the lead and... "I hate that song too," he wheezed, still grinning. "I told her to sing it; I hoped the ‘judges’ would find it too predictable and overdone... and I guess it worked!"
Dave shook his head, laughing under his breath. "You're a total asshole," he murmured.
"No way, I’m just a devious sneak," he laughed, eating another few mouthfuls of pasta. "As I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough..." he added, almost flirtatiously.
◄◄ ■ ►►
AN: The books Dave bought for Kurt are here and here.