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31 May 2011 @ 04:51 am
Of Comic Cons, Cacti, Rock Stars, & Hard Candy: A Kurtofsky Love Story 5/?  
Title: Of Comic Cons, Cacti, Rock Stars & Hard Candy: A Kurtofsky Love Story
Author: Celesteennui
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 9604/37147 so far
Spoilers: The farther season two progresses, the greater the chances are you'll 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, OC Nathan Channing 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 he’d never thought possible. He’s out and proud, has a flourishing career, an amazing circle of friends, and he is neither chubby nor balding despite his worst fears. It’s the perfect life—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; the guy whom he loved and loathed in high school and the guy that he drove away with his own idiocy: Kurt Hummel. Despite those old wounds, though, a friendship somehow blossoms between Dave and Kurt, one that might do more than ease Dave’s conscience over his high school antics—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. Constructive criticism from readers is greatly appreciated and I hope that you enjoy this chapter.
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Author’s Note: A big thank you to my lovely beta, aureliamonte and to my dear winterswallows for her help, guidance and annoying way of being right. If you have not read The Boy Who Lives on Heaven Hill you need to. And also, a final thank you to ducttapeofdoom for the inspiration for a section of this chapter (I think you know which part it was ^_^).

It’s occurred to me that, with the way I’ve already plotted events out, this story is officially an AU now. So to be clear, starting with the little push-fest between Dave and Blaine where Santana broke them up and all events afterward concerning David Karofsky at McKinley? Didn’t happen here.

About the lateness of this update I’m not happy with how long it took, personally, but I’ve got a life filled with school stuff, work and recently-ish a medical emergency that had me popping vicodin for approximately five days. Did anyone out there know that when a Par-Can hits the floor from about fifty feet or so that it bounces? I now know this intimately, or at least my collarbone and chest do. I don’t want to promise faster updates with the summer coming along, especially since I churn out monster!chapters anyway, but I definitely hope to get more done with this now that I’m a tad less busy.

Thanks for sticking with me, guys. Now, on with the show.




Whatever Dave's expectations for the night had been, they had most certainly not involved Kurt Hummel. Yet, somehow, there Dave was sitting across from him in one of the pink and brown booths at Estelle's, staring into his espresso while Kurt gave the same rapt attention to his café au lait, an unfortunately familiar (and very unenviable) silence smothering them. The night, as a whole, was quickly climbing the ladder on the "most-embarrassing-quandaries-David-Karofsky-has-ever-been-in" list. It was more cringe-worthy than the time that Jude and Kyle had watched porn with him when he still had his V-card (they had stopped the disc periodically to give pointers) but still less so than the time Mason Pruitt had revealed his love of golden showers. Worst second date, ever.

Dave did his best to stay far, far, far away from that particular memory, comforting himself with the fact that the restraining order was still in place and taking a sip of his drink. The warm, bitter-rich liquid sloshed across his tongue, offering a temporary respite to the current situation. He glanced very quickly at Kurt who was pretending not to be doing the exact same thing over his cup. At once Dave found something interesting to look at through the window while Kurt's head swiveled in the direction of the crullers. Dave managed to will his blush down (just barely) though his companion, with that fair complexion giving practically every nerve away, went about as pink as the vinyl they were sitting on.

There were probably a thousand things that Dave could be saying to Kurt right then, and at least one he should be. He had thought about for years, practiced speeches and written letters that he'd never dared to send. Now that he had the chance, though, his tongue was frozen behind unyielding lips, too terrified to move. It was really kind of pathetic and sad.

That same thought seemed to be occurring to Kurt as he shifted uneasily in his seat and broke the silence. "So...um...great coffee," Kurt said it like he recognized the weak attempt that it was. "This place is nice. Very...bright." Those green-blue eyes traveled about the room which had been painted with buttery pastels.

"I uh—yeah, it is," Dave agreed, somehow feeling even more awkward than he had before.

Kurt, obviously believing that talking about Estelle's décor was getting them somewhere—or at the very least was better than another ten minutes of uncomfortable silence—rambled on. "It makes me think of cupcakes...which is probably what they're going for." Kurt winced, the red tinge playing back up in his cheeks. "Wow, I um...I think I may get a cupcake," he started to stand, digging in his back pocket for his wallet. "Would you—"

"I'm sorry." Dave said it so quickly and softly that he didn't really believe that it had left his mouth. By the way that Kurt stopped the search for his wallet and met Dave's gaze again, though, he was pretty sure that he had.

Dave's stomach rolled and then clenched, sending a hot wave of shame, disgust, sorrow, and anger up his gullet, the force of which was almost unbearable, and not just because of the alcohol he'd consumed earlier in the evening. He wasn't sure that he could do this, make this gesture, because had never felt that he deserved it. It's why his speeches never went past his own ears and why those letters were never put into a mailbox. He had been a royal fucking asshole to the person across from him, he'd been a monster. After all the shit Dave had done, the slushies, the locker checks, the threats, the torment, that fucking kiss that Dave hadn't been able to wash off for years, how in the hell could he ever manage to sum up just how sorry he was?

The whole thing had been an ever-present weight, a leaden ball mashed between his stomach and ribs carried for ten years. It hurt and he'd held on to it because of that, because it ached and burned and because he deserved that. Dave deservedto have that guilt crushing his insides because he had been such a coward. In a way too, it was like he didn't know what to do without it, he'd carried it so long, and any relief that finally owning up to his wrongs would bring wasn't something that he had a right to.

If there was a trick to it, though, his lips had somehow figured it out because they were moving, frantic to let go of the words forming upon them.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt," Dave said. "I—for everything. I don't—I don't even know where to start."

Kurt, wide-eyed again, slid back down in his seat, the desire for a cupcake apparently forgotten. Dave swallowed hard and looked away; he might not be able to continue if he kept looking at the other man. There was already a hard lump forming in his throat and if he started to cry Dave might just have to punch himself in face. He locked his fingers together and cleared his throat before he went on.

"There's not an excuse for it, none. No matter how goddamn miserable, or sick or lonely I was I had no right to be such a fucking dick to you. Especially after you didn't give me away when you'd finally had enough." Dave paused and swallowed again, there was a definite burn at the corners of his eyes now but he blinked it back furiously; crying like a bitch was not an option right now. "So for, whatever it's worth, I am so, so, so sorry, Kurt."

Dave kept his eyes down and held his breath for the eternity between his apology and when Kurt finally spoke. The other man's eyes were on him, that much he knew, Dave could feel Kurt's big green-blue eyes. Traveling across his face, down his arms, studying the fingers he kept so tightly clenched together, and over every inch in sight, what he was looking for Dave couldn't say.

Honestly, Dave didn't know what he was expecting either or if, really, he was expecting anything at all. Coffee in his face, a punch in the nose, a tirade of how sorry Dave should have been, or maybe just the silence of Kurt storming out, refusing to further acknowledge his existence. Dave wouldn't have—couldn't have—argued with any of those; they were all far less brutal than what he deserved. What Kurt actually did, though, was far less expected than any of that and struck him just as hard.

"I—I—okay. Thank you, I'm—I'm really glad you're not dead." And the way that he said "really", with actual relief, made Dave believe it.

Dave tore his eyes away from the swirling brown-pink designs on the table between them and looked at Kurt in utter disbelief. The other man's face was drawn, tired looking, but relieved. It could not be that easy, forgiveness for all of the awful things that he had done. His conscience screamed that it was too easy; at the very least he merited a lecture on being a horrible, horrible person and a slap in the face. He was about to tell Kurt that too, demand that he be angrier at Dave, to hold that grudge he'd kept so well against himself, but Kurt spoke again and Dave's tongue froze.

"I didn't notice you'd disappeared right away, you know?" Kurt's slim fingers, which, for whatever reason, Dave suddenly observed were painted with very shiny black lacquer, tapped along the sides of his mug nervously. "I was just happy to be back with my friends and I felt safe with the new zero tolerance policy McKinley'd adopted at my back." He gave a short bitter laugh, and rolled his eyes. "Which, looking back on it dumb, so dumb. But anyway, it didn't hit me you had left until, like, the middle of May, when my brother was talking about replacing you on the team that fall."

Despite the sudden, almost undeniable urge to ask just why in the world that would matter, Dave managed to keep quiet. He had had his chance to speak and Kurt had listened, his apology meant nothing if he could not give the other man the same courtesy.

Oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing just across the table from him (probably because Dave had become oh-so good at forcing a blank face) Kurt licked his lips and continued.

"The first thing that I thought was that maybe you'd transferred to an out of town school; maybe your parents didn't think that you could handle the new zero-tolerance thing and they did damage control. But then Quinn said your house was empty and, fuck, I know irrational that it is but I just could not stop thinking all of these horrible things may have happened to you."

It took a moment to register but Dave was floored when it finally hit him just why Kurt's nose was a little red and his eyes were shining. Dave stopped gripping his espresso and pulled his arms back to himself, not so much crossing them as wrapping them around himself, trying to staunch the new ache in his middle. It took every ounce of willpower that he had to keep himself still.

"I kept thinking that your parents had found out you were gay or confused or whatever and they had shipped you off to one of those goddamn camps," Kurt's voice thick as he spoke now. He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his tee. "That maybe they'd uprooted everything because they were ashamed. Or worse I thought you'd hurt yourself. That maybe you were in some hospital somewhere getting your wrists stitched back up or pills pumped out of your stomach because you just couldn't take it anymore. Or—or..."

Kurt may not have been able to voice his last dread but Dave knew what it was just the same. He was both sorry and ashamed to remember the days when he had actually been very close to that and the other things Kurt had mentioned. There had been a slip up his senior year of high school where he'd gotten hold of a bottle of Nembutal. Dave had held it in his hands for hours, thinking about how easy all of the online articles had said it would be; that it would be just like falling asleep. No more pain, no more worry, no more shame, just the soft black of an endless nighttime. His father's knock on the bedroom door may have been all that had stopped him. He'd flushed the pills later on in his fear of being discovered. It wasn't until he was safe at Ithaca, with Jude and Kyle at his side, that Dave could say he was really okay. There had been more than just a few dark moments when he had sincerely wished that the Nembutal was still around.

"If—if I—that wouldn't have been your fault," he said, desperate to reassure Kurt. Dave ignored the waver in his voice and the how the burn in his eyes had intensified to obscure his vision. "You're not—you were never responsible for me, especially after what I did."

"I know that," Kurt almost snapped. He met Dave's eyes again and there was something almost fierce in the aqua-blue depths this time. It frightened Dave just a little and ensured that he didn't look away. Kurt let out a ragged breath and Dave followed suit, not knowing just how long he'd been holding that in.

"I know I was never responsible for you, I really do," Kurt said. "And you're right, you were a goddamn bastard. But I never wanted you to be dead any more than I think that you really wanted to kill me."

Dave winced, recalling that conversation like a stab wound straight to the gut. "Oh my god, I am so—"

"I know, I know." Kurt held up his hands. "You apologized, already, remember? You don't have to do it again."

"Yeah, well I'm pretty sure that no amount of 'I'm sorry's makes up for that," Dave really couldn't help from scoffing.

"Excuse me, but you don't get to decide that," Kurt really did snap that time. Dave winced but didn't dare look away, not with that almost scary glint going on in Kurt's eyes. "Don't belittle my forgiveness by saying your apology didn't matter."

All the color drained from Dave's face and he felt it go. "I—I didn't mean to—I just—fuck!" He put his head in his hands in frustration, noting as his palms brushed his cheeks that the latter were wet. "Jesus, I can't even apologize to you without being an ass."

"I'm not Jesus, but thanks."

There was a very precarious moment after those words left Kurt's mouth; a heavy glass bubble that threatened to roll, crush, and shatter everything. Dave was caught, lump in his throat, stiff, a little bit scared, and very, very, unsure, on one side. On the other Kurt looked like he couldn't really believe he'd just made a joke, the apples of his cheeks burning a true red. Anything could have happened when that bubble finally collapsed in on itself; Dave still half-expected Kurt to break his nose or himself to start running again.

Instead they both laughed.

It wasn't the hearty, riotous, blood warming kind that made your sides ache, not in the least, but it was still very rich for what it did carry. Relief. The tension, the palpable, tongue-searing, dripping tension between Dave and Kurt broke with that odd bubble when they pierced it. Softly, chuckling at best, a guffaw and a smirk at worst, that slight noise still erected a cautious awning between them. Dave believed Kurt's acceptance of his apology (though it would never erase all of his guilt) and Kurt appeared appeased, if not outright content. It was the strangest thing but, somehow, it still might have been the most wonderful thing that Dave had felt in a long, long, long time.

"So what did happen to you?" Kurt asked, his tone downright pleasant, and Dave didn't have much trouble returning the easy smile he wore. "I mean, I can ask that, right? Because Noah was only half-kidding about those mafia rumors. There were a few people who whispered your family had been taken away by the secret service or whoever takes care of that deep-cover crap."

Dave laughed. "Uh…no. I mean that's a lot cooler than what really happened but no. My mom's firm just gave her a promotion after they merged with this bigger one. The company opened up like six new branches and they assigned her to head the one up in Albany, New York. I found out the day we moved."

Kurt's jaw dropped. "No way! How in the hell could they do that to you?"

"They thought I'd object apparently," Dave said with a shrug. "Honestly, though? It was a relief to get away from Lima and start over."

Incredulity still lit Kurt's eyes. "But what about your friends?" he demanded. "You were one of the most popular kids at McKinley! I'm pretty sure the football team started a collection to get you a plaque or something!"

The mirthless laugh that trickled past Dave's lips surprised them both. Irritation flickered in Kurt's eyes and Dave immediately held up his hands in pacification. "Sorry, didn't mean to be rude but, well…I didn't really have friends, Kurt." At the other man's disbelieving glare Dave sighed.

"I didn't," he insisted. "I had guys I hung around with, practiced with, played Xbox live with and partied with, but I'd never call them friends. No one at McKinley knew the real me." The bitterness in his last sentence surprised Dave, just a little. He had always been aware that his McKinley "friends" had been about as close to him as the stray cats that frequented his old street. No, scratch that, the strays were closer, they at least were honest in the fact that their affection was solely based on the leftovers Dave occasionally put out for them.

There was a heaviness in the air again with Dave's declaration, and for a moment, he was again afraid that he'd said the worst possible thing. Kurt looked at him sadly, pityingly almost, and it made his stomach turn. Pity wasn't something Dave really deserved, at least not from his companion, and he didn't want it either. But then Kurt nodded, somehow knowing that pushing would be cruel, as if he truly understood.

"I told my dad about—about the kiss," Kurt said, taking Dave by surprise. "I had a little bit of an episode the fall of senior year after Jacob Ben Israel—the prying reporter kid?" Kurt supplied at the slightly confused face Dave made at the name.

"Oh, yeah…I, um, never knew his name," Dave said guiltily.

"Don't feel too bad about that," Kurt told him with a disdainful wrinkle of his nose. "He was an asshole." A positively hateful look passed over Kurt's face as he continued. "The little jerk printed in the school paper that you and your parents' bodies were in the foundation of the new Denny's on Keppel Street. I saw it and pretty much just flipped out on him."

"What?"

"Yeah…not my finest moment, I suppose." Kurt didn't seem particularly proud of himself, but there wasn't much shame in the lines of his face either. "It almost got me an expulsion. I was a total sobbing wreck when Ms. Pillsbury pulled me off of him, though, and the story violated a few rules—and maybe a law too—so Figgins and our parents made a deal. We both did two months of early morning detention and apologized instead. Didn't keep Dad and Carole from demanding just what had gotten into me, though." A half-smile played at the right corner of Kurt's mouth. "My dad was pissed."

"I don't blame him," Dave said automatically. Memories of Burt Hummel's death glare still could make him shiver. In fact that's what he did at just that moment. "I was a monster to his kid. Sorta surprised he didn't get a shotgun and come hunt me down after you told him."

"No, no, no!" Kurt exclaimed, almost knocking his coffee over as he waved his hands. "He was pissed I didn't tell him. Apparently you being in Narnia watered the death threat down. Like a lot."

Dave just stared when Kurt said that. Even more than expecting Kurt to hate him forever he certainly expected Kurt's father to. Loving parents, he'd learned from Ophélie and Herbert, held grudges when it came to their own. For example, Eddie's cheating ex-wife had a credit score that was practically at zero thanks to their connections and ire. The most merciful thing that Dave ever though Burt might do for him was not kill him if they ever met again. Sympathy, however miniscule it might be, from the man blew his mind.

Either Kurt didn't notice Dave's wide-eyed stare of shock or he was enjoying it, because he kept talking. By the way he still smiled, Dave would bet on the latter. "Dad made it pretty clear I should have told a counselor or someone who could have actually helped you, because there's, and I quote, 'a big freakin' difference between outing someone to the world and getting professional help for them'." Kurt released his coffee for a moment to draw quotation marks in the air. "He was especially annoyed when I told him about confronting you in the middle of campus. He actually made me call Blaine, put him on speakerphone and gave us both one hell of a lecture on why that was the dumbest idea on the planet. I think he even had Blaine crying a little." Kurt chuckled at the memory and shook his head. "And Dad was right, what we did was pretty stupid."

"You were sixteen," Dave pointed out, his urge to assuage whatever guilt Kurt was carrying over their stairwell confrontation startling him. Particularly since he had always had the same sentiments about the whole thing that Burt apparently did. "I mean, fuck, how were you supposed to know how to handle that?"

"Hmm…Less listening to fellow, overly-optimistic, know-it-all sixteen-year-olds, would have helped, I imagine."

Dave snorted. "Yeah, that might have done it." He took another sip of espresso and leaned back in his seat. The tense muscles in his shoulders were finally starting to relax for the first time since Tiff had greeted him with that drink Kurt had sent, and, by the slight throbbing between the shoulder blades, said muscles were pretty grateful.

"So, how is your dad?" Dave asked after a few, unexpectedly comfortable, moments of quiet. "If the whole slamming me against a wall thing was any sort of indication, he cares about you a lot."

There was a look that flitted across Kurt's face, where something, some light in it, just sputtered out and shut down. Those pretty, fine-boned features cracked then collapsed completely like clay that had been baked too long. A mask of sorts had slipped, barely for even a full second before Kurt caught it and shoved it back into place but Dave had still seen it.

"He passed away just after my freshman year of college." That spark was still out in Kurt's eyes, but for the most part, he'd managed to salvage his composure. When he spoke his voice was a flat, emotionless monotone that dug at the pit of Dave's stomach; it felt like Kurt was reciting from a script. "He, my stepmom and about twelve other people, actually. They were driving to Milwaukee and semi rolled."

The words were ice water to Dave's insides and a tiny, evil voice in the back of his head commended him on his stellar ability to pick the perfect subject. It had to be some sort of goddamned, unholy talent, to be able to bring misery to someone without even trying. Not for the first time that evening Dave felt like the world's biggest jerk and contemplated running out the door. He firmly ignored that need to hide, if only to avoid garnering more asinine jerk points.

"I'm—fuck, I'm sorry," Dave finally managed to say when his voice was cooperating again.

"It's okay." The forced nonchalance in Kurt's voice made Dave nauseous. "You didn't know; no harm."

"Hell there isn't." Dave was stunned, just a little, by the fierceness in his tone. By the way that Kurt's head jerked a little, not a recoil so much as a start, as he looked at Dave, the barest flicker coming back into his gaze, the other man was too. In spite of his track record with this subject thus far, Dave scrubbed a hand over his face, and continued with his thoughts.

"Don't tell me there's no harm when I can see what I said upset you. I'm not belittling your forgiveness so don't insult my intelligence, Kurt. Or my apology. Okay?"

There was a very unwieldy second or two where Dave once again half expected Kurt to draw his fist back and leave him with a black eye or a split lip. A thin chuckle from Kurt, however, quickly dispelled the souring air between them and the smile that Dave was given, after a long drink of café au lait, seemed real enough. Personally, he was just glad that Kurt's pupils no longer resembled vacant corridors.

"Touché. I'm sorry."

"It's cool. You've probably got another million abrasive freebies to go before we're even, might as well use 'em."

Kurt gave another, warmer, laugh, leaning forward on the tabletop, resting his weight on his elbows. "You make an excellent point. Though, wouldn't those freebies negate my acceptance of your apology?"

"No, no, no." Dave shook his head but grinned. "See, I was raised Catholic, so I learned: apologize, forgive but keep a tight hold on that guilt because hating yourself is what's best."

"That sounds terribly unhealthy….and much less fun than flagellation."

Pure, witty repartee instinct, honed from years upon years of banter with Kyle and Jude, had Dave's left eyebrow arching and his silkiest voice employed as he said, "You're assuming I don't practice both."

Dave was slightly mortified that he'd decided to make a raunchy joke so soon, but only slightly. It helped that, while Kurt's cheeks did turn a little pink he was laughing as well. Real, honest to goodness, easy, amiable laughter and Dave joined in.

"Okay," Kurt said when they'd stopped snickering. "So, you moved to Albany and finished high school there. What then? How did you get to New Haven?"

"That is a long story, and I think I'm going to insist on a trade off," Dave said.

"You mean you show me yours and I show you mine?" Kurt asked taking his turn with the saucy retorts. It wasn't a bad try, not in the least, the way his pink mouth twisted so provocatively, though Dave pretty sure that he did the eyebrow thing much better. He didn't point that out, of course, just returned the smile and nodded.

"Yep. You sure you've got the time for it?"

"Will Noah be safe with your friends?"

"With Kyle, you mean?"

"Yes, mostly her. The other one didn't have the berserker gleam in his eye. Admittedly, though, I've been wrong before."

"Hmm…I don't think I can lie to you and say that Kyle's never knocked a guy's teeth out for trying to brush up against the girls."

Kurt considered for a moment, gnawing on his lower lip and eyes flicking idly from left to right as he did. Finally, though, he shrugged and grinned at Dave. "Oh well, I'm sure he can build an elaborate machine like Rick Allen if the damage is permanent. If not we'll move him to the tambourine." He slid out of the booth, digging his wallet out from the back pocket of his jeans. Dave, for a second or two, given the tightness of said jeans, suspected Kurt of practicing some kind of witchcraft because he could not believe anything would fit in those pockets. "So, we're agreed, story time. But first I seriously want a cupcake. These fricking walls are taunting me with their frosting stare. You want?"

"Just pass on the cupcakes, dude; s'not the house specialty. Now the pączki? Those are the shit." Dave waved to the rows of small, round and glazed pastries resting on the second shelf of the glass bakery counter. "They make 'em with strawberries, blueberries and Bavarian cream. Fresh."

"Wow the innuendo to be had there is—wow. I can't even touch that. Too easy."

"Oh, I totally can; warm, cream-filled balls. In your mouth." Dave channeled Kyle flawlessly and gave his very best shit-eating grin. Kurt managed to stand against that for approximately two seconds before caving to helpless giggles.

"Egh…that is awful…" Though he may have been shaking his head, Dave was fairly sure by Kurt's smile no unforgivable lines had been crossed. "Okay pączki and what else? Get over here and show me. This trade off thing looks lengthy so that calls for a fuckton of sugar."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

As he sat eating pastries and exchanging stories with Karofsky—no, Dave—in the wee hours of the morning it occurred (briefly) to Kurt that he should maybe have been weirded out by the situation. He couldn't say that it wasn't surreal on some level but honestly? He was enjoying himself.

Dave's evolution, both the story and to see it, fascinated him. There was no trace of the scared, angry, messed up kid that Kurt had known; they were two different people who just happened to share the same bones and intense eyes. The man before him exuded an easygoing confidence that was downright charming, especially when Dave's natural shyness peeked out (which happened more often than the other man probably ever realized). Plus Dave was funny; really, really, really funny. All of his stories were told with a wit and exuberance that kept Kurt giggling with nearly every sentence.

More than anything, though, Kurt liked how easy it was to talk to Dave. Maybe it was because that they had both already seen each other at their worst, despite it feeling so distant and, well, teenage, now, but he actually felt at ease with the other man. He couldn't have said for sure that they'd be best friends or anything, or even if they would speak again once they'd parted ways that night, but right then, in that pink and brown booth, Kurt Hummel was good with Dave Karofsky.

"—and then Kyle jumped on the bar and kicked him in the face. Needless to say, we have not been invited back to Blizzard Con. And honestly? Got no fucks to give 'bout that." Dave finished up his story and shoved an entire pączki into his mouth, swallowing the thing in just a few quick chews. Kurt tried very hard not to linger on how much Dave could fit into his mouth as he laughed.

"Your best friend is insane," Kurt said. "She and Santana can never meet, it would open a black hole of bitchdom and the universe would collapse in on itself."

"Pft. That is so not the craziest shit I have seen Kyle do," Dave informed him. "Once she warms up to you, get her to tell you about the Pride Parade in Manhattan back in 2015. Now that was crazy. Nail-studded-Louisville-slugger crazy, in fact one of those is involved and by some miracle homicide was not."

Kurt laughed but he had become a little stuck on the "Once she warms up to you" part of what Dave had said. It may have been silly but he really did like the sound of that, of getting to talk to the other man again, perhaps even often, during his stay in New Haven. He wasn't so sure about the "warming up" thing, though; Kyle was an imposing lady and it was a little bit hard to forget that death glare of hers.

"She knew about me, didn't she?" Kurt didn't consciously meant to ask that question but he didn't regret it once he did. "Her and your other friend…Jude?" He nibbled on his lower lip, trying to recall if that was indeed what Kyle had called him before dragging him away. "You'd told them about, well, everything at McKinley? I mean, they both looked like they knew a lot or at least had heard about me once since they seemed to recognize my name."

Dave nodded. "Yeah. They both know the whole mess about as well as I do. The truth too," Dave added on quickly. "I never bullshitted them on what an asshole I'd been and they never pretended I couldn't have done it. We work really well together like that. They've…they've gotten me through a lot. We've gotten each other through a lot."

The soft, fond smile that graced Dave's face told Kurt more than words ever could; its warmth could make plants grow. That smile silently proclaimed that Dave knew he was loved, that he had shelter and support and every other necessary thing that his teenage self didn't to feel safe. Besides that it reassured Kurt even more than Dave's jokes and stories that he truly was all right. Kurt was glad for that.

"So, what about you?" Dave asked when he finally returned from that safe little space in his head. "What are you doing in New Haven? And with Puckerman no less. I knew you two did show choir together but I never thought you were all that close. Though, he did tell me off on your behalf once…right before Z, Strando, and the guys locked him in a port-a-potty…" He grimaced. "Wow, I think I might need to apologize to him too…"

"Meh, he got over it," Kurt told him. "That's how he met the so-far love of his life."

"Oh yeah, Zizes! They still together?"

"Ugh no. Not that Noah ever thought of breaking it off but he got accepted to OSU and she got a wrestling scholarship somewhere in Texas. Lauren didn't think either of them could do the long distance thing so she broke it off." Kurt wrinkled his nose as he remembered the resulting mess that that had turned his best friend into. Noah had actually thought about forfeiting his nearly free-thanks-to-financial-aid year to follow her down there. Luckily, Kurt, Finn, Rachel, and Santana had intervened and though it took tying Noah to his bed for a few days (along with several hard slaps) he eventually saw the stupidity of that decision. He had still lamented the loss of his girl for months, during which time Kurt had been subjected to a near constant barrage of incredibly awful love songs that Noah had penned in Lauren's honor. Being a good best friend he had smiled sympathetically and patted Noah on the back for each and every fucking one; Kurt was pretty sure that, gay atheist or not, sitting through "Inside Her Warmth" without vomiting qualified him for sainthood.

Kurt sipped his coffee, reminding himself, not for the first time, that looking Lauren up just to torment her with those terrible, terrible songs was a waste of his time. "He…didn't take it well."

Dave raised an eyebrow, like he sensed everything Kurt wasn't saying, but wisely did not push it. Instead he commiserated with an almost cheerful, "Yeah, well breakups fucking suck," and ate another pączki. Kurt mimicked his actions though he could only stuff about half of the pastry into his mouth.

As they ate Kurt noted that something in Dave's eyes had shifted. The color was a gloomy mud-brown inflamed with threads of bottle green. Strange as it was, with ten years between the last time they'd seen each other and perhaps never having even liked one another, Kurt recognized that gleam. It was amazing how "Recent-Shit-Relationship" translated the same on just about every face.

Before he even realized his mouth was moving, Kurt had asked, "Still stinging, huh?"

"Huh?"

Wishing he hadn't said that Kurt wanted even less to look flaky so he proceeded on with his thoughts. "The look you're wearing," he gestured a little inarticulately at Dave, "it's the 'bad relationship' face. I have too many friends who've been wearing it way too much over the last, I don't know, decade. Or maybe I'm wrong and that's just a face you make. Not that it's bad I just…" Kurt sighed at his companion's persistently blank stare. "Shut me up any time here."

At that Dave laughed. "Sorry I—let's just say you're right. Awful relationship face is indeed awful relationship face."

"Recent?"

"Eh…not really," Dave said, mouth scrunching to the left in thought. "I mean we ended back in November…on my birthday…" That last part seemed to have slipped out, with the vehement way it said. Kurt winced in sympathy.

"Ouch," he said. "Really? Tell me that you at least got a severance pop."

"Nope. The little fucker didn't even bother to do it in person. I got a text message at my party."

"Wow, that's fucking awful. How long were you two together?"

"Fourteen months," Dave said, no small amount of ire saturating his tone.

Kurt could literally not stop his jaw from dropping. "No. No fucking way."

"Yes fucking way." Dave nodded almost solemnly over his coffee.

"Jesus Christ." Kurt whistled. "I sincerely hope you pulled a Kelly made sure that he'd never get laid again."

"A what?"

"A Kelly, you know 'You Can't Text Message Breakup'?" The other man continued to gaze at him as if he was speaking in Greek and Kurt sighed dramatically. "Just YouTube it later, all right? It'll make you laugh and hopefully give you a good attack plan for the asshole."

"No thank you," Dave said holding up his hands. "Seriously, I just want to forget Nathan ever existed. I wasted enough of my time on him. I didn't even like him." The self-loathing that colored Dave's face as he looked out the window made Kurt's chest hurt a little and it took all of his willpower to keep himself from launching across the table to hug the other man.

Dave wasn't paying enough attention to Kurt to catch on to the wide, sad eyes he was watching him with. "What really got me, when it was all said and done, was that he dumped me. The loser I was just wasting my time with, that I was hatefucking to try and be less of the stereotypical lonely writer I was so scared of becoming? He was too good for me. And considering I let myself do that for over year? I can't disagree with him."

An echo of the frightened seventeen-year-old Dave had once been flashed before Kurt's eyes. The downward, uncomfortable focus of Dave's eyes accompanied by his hunched posture and unhappy curve of his mouth were disturbingly familiar to Kurt. He had thought about him often enough over the years, wondering (fearing) what had become of the other man that, had he any artistic inclinations, he could have put the scared boy's likeness on canvas.

Words began to form on the back of Kurt's tongue, something—anything—that would bring back the confident person he'd been talking with. Before he really had to struggle with words, though, Dave had covered up that fragile shard of himself with a blithe smile and a question.

"Okay so you and Noah and New Haven…?" he asked, wrapping his big hands around his espresso cup. Dave's eyes were back to bright and inquisitive, focused completely on Kurt as they had been.

The circumvention took Kurt aback; part of him wanted to backtrack and reassure Dave that his ex was just a twat. Another didn't think that he had the right to discuss something like that. Kurt went with the latter part, pretending that the slip up had not occurred with an ease that, should he have taken time to think about it, would have been unsettling.

"Right," Kurt said lacing his fingers together with palms flat on the table. "Um…well, basically I came back from Dalton and he and I just started spending more time together. At first I think it was because he just wanted to keep tabs on me in case…well, you know," he shrugged and Dave nodded guiltily. "But then, somehow I was giving him date tips for Lauren. Then we were studying together a lot because he's deceptively good at chemistry and I was his only hope of pulling up his Lit grades. When the school year ended he just kept coming over. He made me learn how to play Black Ops, I shoved a few cooking lessons down his throat, we both tortured Finn by tag teaming him on multi-player."

Kurt smiled at the memories of that then seemingly uneventful summer; it was still the best one of his life, even with the two cases of food poisoning he caught from Noah's interactions with the oven. To be fair though, he'd gotten Noah back during the punching lessons he and Finn insisted on giving; Kurt had never been such a combination of proud and horrified as when he caught his best friend in the eye. Noah had brushed off his apologies, saying he was the best grasshopper he'd ever trained, and proudly told everyone who asked that it was Kurt Hummel who'd given him the shiner.

Across the table Dave was smiling in that way Kurt was quickly starting to label as his "secretive" smile. His head tucked down just a bit as the corners of his lips curled up, particularly at the right, while his eyes remained steady on Kurt's face while he spoke. Kurt was really starting to like those eyes, they were rich, dark, and bright all at once and the color mesmerized him, how it shifted between evergreen tinted amber and peridot flecked chocolate.

It took every ounce of Kurt's willpower to stave off a blush when he realized he was thinking so intently on Dave's eyes. He distracted himself with yet another pastry and a long drink of his now rather cold café au lait. Thankfully, Dave didn't appear to spot that.

"So, anyways," he said once his pączki was swallowed, "Noah and I just sort of fell in together. I didn't even realize how close we were until we both got accepted to OSU. He mentioned sharing a dorm one day and I said yes without even really thinking about it. It hit me like five minutes later that even if any of my lady friends were going to the same school and it was co-ed optional, Noah was still the one I wanted to share my space with. Hell, I would have rather had Noah even over my brother and not just because Finn is about as tidy as a chimpanzee on crack."

"Eh! I know!" Dave exclaimed with a laugh. "Jesus, I shared locker rooms with him for almost six years and his locker always looked like there could be fungus growing in there somewhere."

Kurt giggled. "There probably was. I'm pretty sure the only thing that saves us from all new sorts of bacterial infections on the road is Santana's threat to hose him with pepper spray if he doesn't keep his shit in his hamper."

"On the road?" That left eyebrow, which Kurt was quickly dubbing Dave's "signature", went up. "Did Hudson marry Lopez?"

Really, Kurt couldn't help the cackle that escaped him when Dave asked that. None of them, his brother and Santana included, could barely believe the two had slept together the once anymore, so the suggestion of a relationship between them could hardly strike him as anything but hysterical. And frightening, quite frightening, to be honest, but Kurt pushed down his combination of hilarity and revulsion to explain things to Dave, lest Kurt's giggling scare him away.

"God, no. Finn married Rachel Berry and Santana's as into dick as Noah is—which despite his…" There was absolutely no way that Kurt could refrain from blushing as he recalled every selling point that had fallen from Noah's mouth earlier in the evening. "…comfort level with homosexuality, is actually not at all."

Dave's jaw dropped. "Really? Dude, she slept with just about every guy in school and a couple of the faculty."

Kurt smirked a little as he shrugged. "She fucked herself into a stupor, you acted like jerk and I was a royal bitch, honey. Gay teenagers have all the same kind of shitty coping mechanisms that the straight ones do."

That had Dave chuckling again and he held up his second espresso cup. "Here, here," he said. Kurt caught on quickly enough and tapped his own cup against it.

"Finn, Noah, myself and our friends Padma and Jules are in a band," Kurt explained once the café au lait once again resided on a grainy pink-brown circle near his right elbow. "Santana's our touring manager; hence she gets to use her H.B.I.C. skills to keep order by any means necessary."

Those already bright hazel eyes lit up even more as Dave leaned farther in over the tabletop. "You're in a band?" he asked borderline incredulously. Dave seemed to recognize that in his tone as well, and before Kurt could really think of being offended he backtracked and apologized. "Wow—ugh, sorry, I did not mean to sound like a complete douche. It's just—rock star isn't a career I ever would have pictured you with. Then again, I really didn't know you so maybe I'm just…putting my foot farther down my throat…" His face started to redden the more he spoke and Kurt had to bite down an 'Aw'.

Instead he said, "No, you're right. I mean, I know I was and still am pretty much the definition of flaming gay. And while I don't think I'm really a 'rock star', I certainly never expected to be doing this."

Propping his chin on his fist as he too leaned on the table Kurt sucked on his lower lip, remembering all the steps that had taken him to where he was. A lot of them, surprisingly, weren't even real decisions when he took time to examine them, just convenient motions for the time being. He'd always known he was rather lucky, that the band as a whole was very lucky, but somehow until he sat back and thought about it, the fact rarely hit Kurt.

"Growing up I wanted to be the male version of Liz Taylor," he told Dave. "By the time I was in high school all I wanted was to get the hell out of Lima. I considered just about anything—singing, dancing, decorating, design school, translating French, whatever would get me out into the world. The only reason that I stayed in Ohio for college were the home state tuition rates. Well and OSU had a pretty great music department. That's where I met Jules AKA my partner in melodic madness." He had to laugh at the last bit, remembering how Jules had coined the term while standing, drunkenly on an overturned coffee table before leaping onto his back. It was a move that knocked him down and bruised his ribs. For a girl barely bigger than Rachel, Jules was freakishly strong.

"And creative magic sparked from the get go?" Dave asked, now smiling impishly.

"Hardly. We sort of hated each other for awhile." A slight grin tugged at the corners of Kurt's mouth as he recalled the white-hot rage that boiled up in his throat every time that Jules spoke the first few months they were in each other's acquaintance. She had struck him as so smug, so arrogant, with her beautiful low voice and ability to play more instruments than Kurt owned scarves. Most of all he'd detested how at ease little miss Juliet Hamilton had been, so very relaxed and poised as their music theory professor complimented her. If she had at least been obnoxious with her genius, like Rachel, he could have at least had grudging respect for her, but the quiet detachedness of Jules had really rubbed him the wrong way. And for whatever reason she'd had, by the way her gray-green eyes coldly washed over him each period they shared, Kurt had known the loathing was mutual.

Dave was back to raising that eyebrow of his and Kurt answered the question it posed without prompting.

"We were paired up for a project in music cognition during the second half of the fall semester. We made it like two days before we got into the fight that had to come. I don't even remember what it was about, let alone how everything really went down, but I'm pretty sure there was slapping on both sides and maybe some kicking. Then, somehow we ended up at Dairy Queen talking about why Judy Garland was our idol."

"Alan Moore," Dave said.

Kurt blinked a few times. "Um…who?"

Shaking his head just a little, Dave smiled. "Sorry, that just reminded me of how Kyle and I really started bonding."

"You mean you two didn't just meet and BAM wonder twin powers were activated?"

"As awesome as that sounds, and as much as I want to now alter the story so that yes, that's totally how it happened, no." Dave's tongue poked out at the left corner, wetting his lips while his eyes rolled to the ceiling in thought. The motion fascinated Kurt in an embarrassing sort of way.

"We weren't cold to one another or anything and it didn't take a fist fight to get us to talk, but the first couple of weeks we shared our room were a little…awkward," Dave told him. "I was struggling with wanting to come out since I was away from home but I didn't know how. So I pretended I was an armadillo and tried to interact with everyone as little as possible. Including Kyle. Then one day I came back from class and she had 'V for Vendetta' on the TV."

"Ooh, Noah and Jules both own a copy of that, I haven't seen it though."

Dave shook his head, making a "tsk tsk" noise. "You need to," he told Kurt. "Everyone needs to; more than that they need to read the comics. In my opinion it's the greatest piece of modern literature yet written. It's what finally got me out of the closet, really." That plant-growing smile returned to Dave's face as he looked down into his coffee. "But there was this—this really moving scene playing when I came in. It was all about how, no matter what the world tries to take from you, you have to hold onto your integrity, you have to be true to yourself. I stood there, in the doorway of our dorm room and just watched that whole scene. When it ended I just—I sort of broke down. I cried like a gigantic baby, told Kyle I was gay and she held on to me like the world was ending then made sure I knew it wasn't. So yeah," Dave chuckled, a little bit of a wet sheen to his eyes as he raised them back to Kurt's, "Alan Moore. He's Kyle and I's Judy Garland, I guess."

"Sorry." Again, Dave shook his head and scrubbed a quick hand across his eyes and forehead. Kurt played along, pretending that there had never been any moisture in the corners of Dave's eyes. "You're supposed to be telling me about your life. I'll shut up now."

"Don't you ever apologize for that story," Kurt told him, his voice a little hard. "Ever."

There was an awkward second or two, as Dave blushed a little and then Kurt blushed and they both looked anywhere but at each other.

Dave cleared his throat and drummed his fingers against the side of his cup. "So, you and Jules?"

"Oh. Yeah, we were talking about that, huh?" Kurt joked.

"It had come up, yes," Dave returned pleasantly.

"Well," he began, stretching a little as he adjusted in his seat. Kurt angled himself so that he could lean against the windowsill and stretch his legs out over his bench. In a fashion, Dave had copied him, pulling one leg up on the seat so that he could rest his chin on it while the other lightly butted the table leg. "About a week after we bonded Jules was asking to record me singing stuff she'd composed for one of our independent art projects. We did that and had a lot of fun. Not long after she met Noah and my brother. When she found out Finn could drum and Noah was a fellow guitarist she asked if they'd like to jam once in awhile. Padma, our bassist, we knew from music history and invited her the second she said she still practiced.

"Dorothy North—the band," he supplied at Dave's slight quizzical frown, "wasn't supposed to be anything more than stress relief between our classes. Jules mentioned a few times freshman year that she thought we could make something on the road. Finn and I wouldn't have been able to explain it to our parents, though, so until August just before what would have been our sophomore year it stayed a hobby."

"What hap—" Kurt was almost certain Dave had bitten down on his tongue to stop that question. It was unnecessary of him but sweet, Kurt had to admit. He demonstrated that with a weak but still sincere smile.

"It's okay," he told the other man. "Really."

Instead of arguing this time Dave nodded, swallowing back what was probably an apology he didn't want to be berated for. Again, Kurt marveled at the difference ten years had made on the person in front of him. For all the clichéd songs about her, Time really was the best treatment for all your wounds.

Kurt took another drink of his café au lait then licked his lips before starting again. "But, yeah. We lost Dad and Carole so we decided to try Jules' proposal. Noah and Padma pissed off their parents a little bit when they dropped out but other than that little bit of friction I don't think any of us regretted leaving school. Finn and I sold everything in Lima, got Rachel's blessing and bought our equipment. We traveled and booked ourselves for about four years, recorded like five EPs then Rachel got one of them to an acquaintance she'd made on Broadway. He liked what he heard and we got signed on at Geffen. We made a studio album that caught a lot of indie-underground press attention and were rewarded with a better contract and a tour bus. Santana had graduated with her business management bachelor's earlier in that same year and was seeing Jules anyway, so we hired her on as our road manager. She's kept us running efficiently ever since."

He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing after that last sentence passed his lips. Keeping them running was a pale description of what Santana's job actually entailed. She made sure they all ate, that they slept, got them to the doctor's office when they were sick and on top of that took care of the business-y crap that came with keeping a band on schedule, too. In reality, Santana was a single mother of five ungrateful fucking kids, one of whom happened to be her spouse, which therefore made Jules the brattiest of the bunch. Santana was sanity for all of them most of the time, unbelievable as it still was.

"She's your Annabeth, then?" Dave asked, pulling Kurt out of a memory where Santana had collected a bucket of ice water to throw on Jules' sleepy form right before a photo shoot. The resulting fight and makeup sex, he was sure had been heard from out of state.

"Annabeth?"

"Mine and Kyle's agent/handler/cunt-faced-shark." The bigger man smirked, looking upward as he obviously searched for the right words. "She hates everything with a passion but she gets the job done come hell or waters high. Which, luckily for Kyle and I is usually to our benefit."

"Usually?" Kurt imitated Dave's cat eyebrow as best he could.

Dave shrugged. "The woman's a sadist and comic conventions can be hell. Let's leave it at that."

"Fair enough," Kurt chuckled. "Back to 'Underground Sensation: The Dorothy North Story'Shut up—" he ordered playfully at Dave's snort. The other man feigned a look of absolute innocence and Kurt barely refrained from tossing a pączki at Dave's head. Instead, he turned his nose up and carried on.

"So, abridged version of the last few years. About two years ago we made our second studio album; that got a lot of very nice critical reception so we basically spent up unto a month ago traveling around, promoting it and the band. At the very end of December our label said we had one of the satellite studios in New Haven at our disposal for as long as we needed. We all packed up our shit and shipped out. Well, Noah and I shipped out," Kurt smiled ruefully. "Finn, Padma, and Jules all took vacations with their significant others; left us singles to unpack everything." Grinning now as he wound his tale down, Kurt spread his arms wide. "And then my best friend convinced me to celebrate bachelordom with a night out and I sent you a drink. Any questions?"

Dave's lips twisted ever so slightly as he put on his most thoughtful face. "Just one. How upset would you be if I said I'd never heard of your band?"

Kurt almost spat out the lukewarm mouthful of coffee he'd just taken. He managed to swallow, somehow, as he laughed then grinned at Dave. "I won't be too incensed, I promise. We're not Top 40's famous and I don't know that we ever will be. Now that you do know, though," he playfully narrowed his eyes, "I totally expect you to buy all of our albums and merch."

Dave snorted. "But what if I think you guys really suck?" he asked, teasingly, of course, by his smile and bright eyes.

He countered with wide eyes and a wobbling lower lip, "But—but you threatened to kill me when we were children…"

Dave's jaw dropped and for a split second Kurt thought that his joke was too much. Then Dave was chuckling and saying, "Ah…Low blow, dude, low!"

Shrugging, Kurt grabbed another pączki. "I'd say I'm sorry but, well, I need the royalties. Never can have enough designer boots, you know." And he lifted his leg high off the bench, trying to pose like a model to show off the current knee high leathers he was sporting. It didn't go as he'd planned as the bench's slick vinyl upholstery wasn't made for such quick movements and Kurt found himself sliding to the floor. He yelped, just barely catching himself on the table's edge.

"I meant to do that!" Kurt practically shouted as Dave laughed without reserve while he struggled to get up. "Dammit! Stop laughing, I—Whoa!" His right leg, sleepy from sitting down so long, buckled and Kurt found his ass on the floor.






Author’s Note Deux: So, there was the talk. I had written the apology scene before Glee’s Prom episode aired, and while I’m moderately satisfied with what I have (I say moderately because, well, there’s really no work of mine that I look upon later and believe it could not be improved upon) I still think it pales without a visible, teary eyed Max Adler. I don’t know, though, what do you guys think? I hope you were satisfied by it.

Continuing the tradition of info links:

Pączki

Kurt’s boots

Valerie’s Letter: An excerpt from ‘V for Vendetta’—I cry every time I read this in the comic and every time that I watch this part of the movie. I’m not much of an emotional person, and especially not a crier, so I think it’s really saying something considering that I’ve both reread the chapter as well as watched the movie about a million times. If you get the chance watch the full movie and read the graphic novel, especially the latter, since it’s got so much more meat and depth to it. ‘V’ is the reason I decided that I wanted to write comics one day, why I keep writing at all, and I think that it is a perfect metaphor for young Dave while he’s looking for that inch within himself.

If you don’t want to be sad don’t watch this, and if you don’t like it or disagree with the message, that’s fine, I just ask that you refrain from leaving that opinion here. This is a big thing to me so, in my own journal, I think I have the right to ask you to not to be negative towards it. Not here.

Thank you,
Les


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
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Current Mood: anxiousanxious
 
 
 
Carly: Max & Chriscarolina_hope on May 31st, 2011 06:57 am (UTC)
this is amazing. before I start guching I have to say, that yes, Max Adlers acting makes everything better

and I really love this chapter and how it showed both sides of the story. Dave is holding onto the guilt as a sort of punishment I would guess - not healthy but why not. but for Kurt? if he held onto the hate it would eat him up. I often say that we dont forgive for teh other persons sake but for ours, because we need it. and I also like the way they talked about the appologizes and what the meaning behind it all was

and I love that ease they slipped into after the initial awkwardness. and how aware Kurt is of Dave. and how very much inadequate Dave feels in Kurts presence, still

and I so very much hope this is not their last meeting. and I cant wait fort ehm to see the otehrs work :) but I will
celesteennuicelesteennui on June 3rd, 2011 04:14 am (UTC)
*sigh* Agreed, Max makes everything better.

I can assure you this will not be their last meeting, the boys and company still have a long way to go before I have them making out like bunnies.

Thank you for the review, sugar :)
caliena on May 31st, 2011 07:04 am (UTC)
You killed off Burt and Carole!
I might hate you a bit...

I loved their jokes - and of course Dave is better with the eyebrow-thing, his are heavensent :D
Long live Kurt's magical jeans... :D

What had me laughing the most was Kurt's playful try to force Dave into buying their CD's with the "Death Threat" argument :D

I loved this Chapter very much and I am the same when It comes to "V".
It has a great impact on me, too :)
celesteennuicelesteennui on June 3rd, 2011 04:19 am (UTC)
Sorry, sweets but they had to go for this to go the right direction. I felt a BIT bad about it, though.

YES. To the 1,000 power yes. Max's eyebrows are wondrous things.

I'm glad you enjoyed V's place here, I don't think I'd be quite the same person without it.

Thank you for your kind words, dear :)
silent hallucinationalex_s9 on May 31st, 2011 07:07 am (UTC)
I am now very tempted to send you pączki (I assumed from you use of Polish diacritical mark you're writing about Polish pastry; ETA: shouldve waited till the end before writing the comment) to prove you can't fit one pączek in your mouth. Unless they're the mini version but then you wouldn't have a filling in them. And the best ones are with rose petal jam, delicious! But I guess they sell different kind at Estelle's.

I wish Burt was still around - I think he and Dave have some unfinished conversation, and it would have been heart-wrenching. On theother hsnd, I can'y picture Kurt and Finn dropping out from college to tour, so I guess was thing let to another.

Great chapter, as always.
celesteennuicelesteennui on June 3rd, 2011 04:22 am (UTC)
I guess the local version of pączki are the minis, they fit in the palm of my hand though these ARE filled with jam. I live in Ohio, so I doubt they're awfully authentic. They're frickin' delicious but I would never count on them being true to a homeland recipe. My friend Dale can fit TWO of those in his mouth (he has a gigantic mouth).

I would have liked to have kept Burt but, yeah, honestly I didn't see Kurt or Finn leaving school and wasting the family's money like that if he and Carole had been around.

Thank you, sweets, your review was lovely, as always.
silent hallucinationalex_s9 on June 3rd, 2011 04:34 am (UTC)
I felt like this before, really wondering how Kurt and Finn got from good boys to rock stars - I really couldn't picture then choosing the career like that, especially Kurt. But your idea works perfectly.

And if you ever come across the pond, let me know, and I'll buy you pączki. :D
celesteennuicelesteennui on June 3rd, 2011 05:36 am (UTC)
Thank you. Ooh real pączki! I will keep that in mind! Rose petal jam DOES sound delicious.
hopefulwriter27hopefulwriter27 on May 31st, 2011 10:29 am (UTC)
Another great chapter! Their talk was excellent and perfectly played out (despite what you say in your author's notes). I love both boys' back stories and the way Kurt dealt with Dave's apology. It was perfectly in character for a grown up Kurt.
celesteennuicelesteennui on June 3rd, 2011 04:24 am (UTC)
*blush* Thank you. Portraying the characters as grown-ups, responsible, reasonable, not-just-adults is a big point I wanted to cover with this story as a whole, so it means a lot that you think I've accomplished that. Thank you so much for the vote of confidence <3
my name is a symbollostenergy on May 31st, 2011 10:43 am (UTC)
Nice conversation between them! <3
celesteennuicelesteennui on June 3rd, 2011 04:24 am (UTC)
Thank you, sugar, I'm glad you liked it.
lizibabeslizibabes on May 31st, 2011 05:16 pm (UTC)
I read the first ch of this on fanfic.net was so glade when I saw it on here. normally I'm not a big fan of future fics but I love this and the pretty banners? very nice.
I can not wait to read more
hugs lizi <3
celesteennuicelesteennui on June 3rd, 2011 04:27 am (UTC)
Thank you, sugar! I'm happy to have you on board. *hugs*
lizzypoodlelizzypoodle on May 31st, 2011 08:09 pm (UTC)
Wow...when you write a chapter, you WRITE A CHAPTER!! I loved their conversation. I love how Kurt is noticing the beautiful things about Dave. I love your description of Dave's eyes. I am thirsty for more with these two. Excellent work.
celesteennuicelesteennui on June 3rd, 2011 04:27 am (UTC)
THANK YOU! I'm working on 6 even now, so, hopefully I won't be forever with this one.
david_of_oz on May 31st, 2011 09:04 pm (UTC)
Still loving this. Getting jossed by canon is the price we all pay to have great fic like this, don't even think twice about it.
celesteennuicelesteennui on June 3rd, 2011 04:28 am (UTC)
Thank you, sugar. Ah Glee canon...it is...there. <3
gleekxtergleekxter on June 1st, 2011 01:03 am (UTC)
I'm proposing to this story.
That is how much I love it.
Their talk, and now growing friendship and just everything about it, is just amazing. Sooooo much love for it all! :D
celesteennuicelesteennui on June 3rd, 2011 04:29 am (UTC)
The story will have to take a bit to consider, lol.
Thank you, sugar, thank you SO much for your kind words :)
Vicki: Dave watchesmyownghost on June 3rd, 2011 09:54 pm (UTC)
this was wonderful to read -- kurt's narrative interwoven with dave's apology and so on, plus pastry i'm going to have to seek out. lovely.

i see i'm not the only fan with something of a fetish for max adler's eyebrows!
celesteennuicelesteennui on June 3rd, 2011 10:11 pm (UTC)
You're wonderful to comment :) Pączki are delicious, though, I've recently been informed the ones I've had, which I modeled the story version on, aren't too authentic. Still, what I have had are great.

No straight woman can NOT have a thing for those eyebrows. They're just...GUH.
ducttapeofdoom: Wesducttapeofdoom on June 25th, 2011 07:45 am (UTC)
I'm so sorry for reviewing so late but my internet sucks, we'll leave it at that.

I LOVED this chapter, and it wasn't just because of the fact that you managed to slip in You Can't Text Message Break UP.

I loved the fact that they sat there just eating pastries while sharing their life stories. However, I am sad that Burt and Carole are dead, however, I know (from unfortunate experience) that sometimes life just deals you those cards and you just have to learn to deal with it.

I can't wait to see how their relationship develops from this civil meeting.
celesteennuicelesteennui on July 6th, 2011 04:20 pm (UTC)
No need to apologize, honey, we've all got lives outside the 'net, shoddy as it sometimes is. I hope yours gets fixed, I'd be INSANE if I couldn't IM on a regular basis.

I'm glad you approved of my Kelly insert :) Thank YOU for giving me the idea.

While I didn't really WANT to kill Burt and Carole, I don't see the story happening without that one event.

Thank you for the review, sugar *hugs*