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28 August 2011 @ 04:42 pm
Of Comic Cons, Cacti, Rock Stars, & Hard Candy: A Kurtofsky Love Story 8/?  
Title: Of Comic Cons, Cacti, Rock Stars & Hard Candy: A Kurtofsky Love Story
Author: Celesteennui
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 10007/63795 so far
Spoilers: The more episodes aired the greater the chances are that you will read something that qualifies as spoiler and that this will be considered AU.
Characters/Pairings: Main—Dave Karofsky and Kurt Hummel. Supporting—OC Kyle Queen, OC Jude Bower, Noah Puckerman, Finn Hudson, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez and lots of other OCs because this is a FutureFic. Dave/Kurt battling it out against Dave/OC.
Summary: FutureFic. Dave Karofsky has a life that, as a teenager, he never thought was possible. He’s out and proud, has a flourishing career, an amazing circle of friends and he is neither chubby nor balding. Life is pretty perfect—right up until his boyfriend decides to break up with him. By text. On his birthday. It’s on the rebound from this debilitating blow to his pride that Dave’s path crosses with that of the last person he ever expected to see again: Kurt Hummel. Despite old wounds, though, a friendship blossoms between Dave and Kurt, one that might do more than ease Dave’s conscience over his high school screw ups—if he can let it. A How-To-Guide on getting over a bad relationship all wrapped up in humor, drama, insanity and tied with a smutty bow.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and I make no money from this artistic venture, it is done for the pure enjoyment of writing about one of my favorite shows. Reviews are greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Click Picture to Listen to Chapter Playlist
(opens in new window)
For those who do not Grooveshark, here’s the track listing in case you’d like to look up the songs.
Kiss With A Fist-Florence + The Machine
A Favor House Atlantic-Coheed & Cambria
In These Shoes-Kirsty MacColl
The Masochism Tango-Tom Lehrer
20th Century Boy-Placebo
Clamour For Glamour-The Ark
Knockers-The Darkness
Beautiful Ones-Suede
Innocent-Our Lady Peace
Remain-José González
This playlist was picked out with much help from winterswallows. Thank you, Bea.

Author’s Note: A thank you to my lovely beta, aureliamonte and to my dear winterswallows for her help, guidance and annoying way of being right.

The relationship that Dave shared with Kyle was often misconstrued by people who didn't know them. Too many, when they passed them on the street, seemed to gravitate towards the idea that they were a couple. A couple-couple, as in the straight-and-probably-fucking-each-other's-brains-out-behind-closed-doors kind of couple. Most of the time Dave sincerely couldn't wrap his head around why strangers would think something like that. It was as if the world just could not accept two people of the opposite sex hugging or being relaxed around one another unless a fierce amount of humping was involved at some point. Quite frankly it irritated him.

Then, occasionally, moments would pop up when Dave was able to stand back and objectively take in just what he and Kyle were doing. During those moments it suddenly became so easy to understand just why some little old ladies would stop them at the grocery store and ask how long they'd been together. Thursday morning was one big, messy hodgepodge of those moments mashed infuriatingly together.

"Kyle, we're gonna be late," he reminded her for maybe the fifth or sixth time since he'd gotten up that morning. As Dave's teeth were gritted just a little and he was glaring at her when he spoke, it was more of a hurry-the-fuck-up nag than a reminder. Which, a little voice (which sounded way too much like Kyle) at the back of his head, pointed out that that was precisely the reaction she was aiming for.

"We have forty minutes, Athos," Kyle told him in an patronizing tone that could needle right under his skin like nothing else. "And I'm sure if we're late Kurt's not going to lose his mind with worry; he's got our cells. Chill the fuck out." She sighed dramatically as she capped her mascara. "Jesus Christ, I know you aren't exactly a morning person but would it kill you to start the day with something more positive than 'get your ass in the car, Kyle'?" Her voice deepened, clearly a mocking his tone. "Maybe a compliment? You know, tell me I'm pretty or some other fake bullshit? Just once, in lieu of the bitching? That would be fan-fucking-tastic."

This. Sitting, fully dressed—in clothes that Kyle had picked out—on her bed and watching her flit half-naked about the room while she picked out her own outfit, this was exactly why people thought that they were fucking. Because most sane, rational men had to be getting pretty consistent blowjobs to suffer through this sort of shit. Or they were old and their wills had been broken by their crazy wives eons beforehand with stuff like this coupled with manic sex.

Not Dave Karofsky though, he was a masochist of a much more complicated breed. Dave Karofsky was gay so he couldn't really appreciate the view as Kyle made him snap her bra up in the back. He did it anyway, though, quietly seething, questioning his good sense, and trying to recall why he just couldn't ditch the bitch.

Dave was sure that his and Kyle's relationship could be considered a very offbeat brand of domestic abuse most of the time.

"You're fucking pretty-pretty princess, Porthos," he growled tossing one of the small deco pillows from her bed at his best friend. "Now would you finish getting dressed so we can go? Pants, shoes, get a move on!"

Kyle ignored the pillow as it struck her hip, hitting the exposed patch of blue lotuses tattooed there then bouncing off. "You're not committing, I don't buy it," she told him airily. She opened up the large black closet by her vanity table. Out came several shirts, skirts, and pairs of jeans which were tossed over the vanity stool. They were accompanied by an utterly diabolical smile that said Kyle might just try all of them on.

Dave glared at her for a few more seconds, gnawing on his tongue and flirting with the idea of knocking his best friend out with one of the empty aluminum easels sitting not too far away, dressing her himself, then carrying her down to the truck. He dismissed that quickly though, knowing he probably couldn't go through with it. Cunt that she could be, Dave loved Kyle. Not to mention aluminum was so not going to make a dent in that hard head of hers and he couldn't drive her truck, which, as the vehicle with the better snow/ice ratings, was definitely the one leaving the garage today. Kyle's truck was a stick shift and the last time that Dave had attempted driving one of those he'd gone into a ditch after nearly taking out a telephone pole. His knuckles had been white for a week and he knew that Ed and Ernie had left the experience with a couple of gray hairs.

So instead of violence Dave tried honey with Kyle. Honey laced with much vinegar in his phoniest grin. Which, of course, Dave knew his cunty BFF couldn't ignore. Again, their rapport was as much psychological torture as it was loyalty, love, and mutual enjoyment of male genitalia.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" he asked in his best Shakespearian impersonation, which, of course, was fucking terrible. Dave had a memory for sonnets, poems and classic literature but he absolutely did not have the acting skills for them. He ended up looking like a goof—which, luckily, was something that amused Kyle to no end.

"No you shall not; I'm totally a winter not a summer." She tried to sound snotty but Dave could see the lines around her eyes crinkling. "Cosmo told me so."

"Thou art more lovely and more temperate," he crooned tossing another pillow at her.

Kyle deflected the pillow with her elbow and countered with, "I am not." Dave noted that she had grabbed a pair of red leggings from her short dresser and was in the process of pulling them on.

"Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer's lease hath all too short a date," Dave continued and stood to strike a soliloquy pose—or at least what he thought was a soliloquy pose. Not that "soliloquy pose" a technical term for any fucking thing to begin with. He ignored all of that and continued to recite Sonnet Eighteen in his loudest, most contrived English accent. "Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, by chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, when in eternal lines to time thou growest; So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee."

He bowed deeply as he finished and Kyle, giggling like a madwoman, clapped. In the time that it had taken for Dave to belt out that sonnet his best friend had found socks, a miniskirt, her favorite Black Widow tee, and pulled them all on. "There. Did you buy that? Now get some fucking shoes on, bitch, chop-chop." And he chucked yet another pillow at her for good measure.

"Fucking Shakespeare? Really?" she was giggling while she busted his balls, though. And opening the chifforobe (Dave secretly called it the "shrine") that contained her shoes. Well, a good fraction of them, at least. He fought down the urge to smirk; oh yes, he fucking owned her. "Sometimes, I think you're gay, Davey."

Dave stuck his tongue out at her but shrugged. "Really, quoting Sonnet Eighteen is what outed me? Not the time you walked in on me fucking Todd Holston in our old kitchen?"

"Nah that could just have been Greek wrestling." Kyle plopped onto the little sofa that was nestled against the end of her bed a pair of boots in hand. She wrinkled her nose at him before she started to pull said boots on. "By the way, thank you for reminding me about that. Nothing makes me hungrier in the morning than the image of sweaty, grunting you making a twink cream all over the fucking breakfast bar."

"Get the fuck off your high horse, little miss answers-her-phone-while-getting-eaten-out."

"Hey, you should just feel honored that I care enough about you to recognize your ringtone, worry, and grab the phone when an orgasm is impending, dick."

The retort forming in Dave's throat dried up when he scowled at his best friend and really noticed the boots she was currently zipping up.

"Heels?" he more demanded than asked. Dave felt his left eyebrow disappearing into his hairline. "You're wearing heels?"

Kyle snorted without looking up. "Oh dear, Captain Obvious is on the scene."

Ignoring the taunt Dave walked over and nudged her suede covered ankle with the toe of his boot. "You hate heels." It came out as an accusation, especially since he'd narrowed his eyes on her. "Hate."

"That is completely untrue," Kyle said, still not meeting his gaze. She wiggled her right leg a bit, checking the feel of the boot before pulling its mate on. "Heels are lovely. They're gorgeous and they emphasize that my legs, though certainly full in shape, are also nice and long."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Which is why you wear them so often, right?"

The left's zipper slid up into place and Kyle wiggled that leg as well. "I never said that they were nice to wear, Athos, I said that they looked nice." She held her hand out and Dave automatically took it, helping her to stand. Kyle kissed his cheek as a thank-you then backed away, testing the shoes (in all likely cases this was her first time wearing them outside of the store) with a few cautious steps. Once she was sure of her footing Kyle twirled once to show-off and then crossed to her vanity one last time to grab up something for her hair.

"They make you cranky you walk around in them for long," Dave pointed out as his BFF wound her dark, wavy hair up into a low, messy chignon. "Very cranky."

Kyle smirked at him in the mirror. "Yes, well, I suppose someone shouldn't have mentioned how I only ever wear 'like five pairs' of shoes." Her voice dipped about six octaves to imitate his deeper tone; and not well, either, if he were asked about it. "It's almost like that unnamed person didn't know I was an pigheaded smart-ass with dare complex. Silly them, that's just asking me to put on pretty shoes and torment them all day in proportion to how much my feet hurt."

Dave groaned. "Oh come on! Shoe shopping with you itself isn't enough of a punishment here? You have to add in bitchy-regretful-Kyle?" He glared at Kyle and resisted (quite admirably) the urge to kick her right in the back of the knee so she'd topple over in those stupid boots. "I do not like this game, Porthos."

"It's not a game, it's a lesson," Kyle said. "Don't bitch about my shoes. If I want to hoard I'm gonna hoard. Now come on." She turned from the vanity and grabbed her messenger bag from the top of the dresser. "Let's go. Appetite's back and I want some of Rudy's pancakes."

Shrugging on his coat that had been lying on end of Kyle's footboard for the last half-hour, Dave somehow managed to resist the impulse to kick Kyle yet again. Instead he found a much more appropriate form of vengeance. With a smile he plucked Kyle's jacket from her grasp and held it for her like a good, gentlemanly, best friend would. She suspected nothing, which made it all the more sweet for him when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and countered her "lesson" as hard as he could.

"Hey, you know what pancakes remind me of?" he asked as they started down the stairs. Kyle glanced at him through the corner of her eye and Dave got the satisfaction of seeing a glint of apprehension light them before he gave her the proverbial kick-to-the-cunt. "The time I had Jude in handcuffs in the utility closet and you walked in on that rim job I was giving him. Didn't he come like right as you opened the door?"

Kyle stopped dead in her tracks on the stairs and Dave—cackling—withdrew his arm and practically skipped down them. He looked back, taking in the apoplectic way in which his best friend's right eye was twitching with pride.

"You son of a bitch," she growled. "I finally had that repressed!"

"I have yet to see semen shoot that far again." Dave really couldn't resist making rubbing it in. Kyle looked queasy so rarely, he needed to enjoy it while it lasted. "That was a nice sweater; did you ever get the stain out once the hysterical blindness cleared? I just can't remember."

"You're a bastard."

"Now, now, behave or no pancakes for you, missy." Dave wagged his finger at her and "tut-tutted" for good measure.

"Fuck you, you know I can't eat now," she said, finally moving down the stairs again. Kyle glared at him as he held the kitchen-to-garage door open for her. "I'm gonna get you back, asshole."

"S'okay," he told her, almost sweetly as he locked the door and punched in the security code. "I have other sexploits to remind you of. Hell, I think there may be a few video clips I can use to help illustrate."

Yes, Dave could very much understand why people sometimes thought he and Kyle were a couple. They were constantly at war and driving one another insane on a daily basis. Unlike those other poor souls, though, Dave never questioned his better half's fidelity or if they would always be together. Kyle was the one person that Dave knew was with him one-hundred-percent, always at his back, always ready to hold his hand and the first in line to bust his balls. That was the way it would be until death hit them square in the face. Because, as Kyle had pointed out once or twice, they were probably going to end up killing each other. And the journey to those bizarre, headline worthy obituaries would be really fucking funny.


"All right. The Fryes or Docs?" Kyle asked Kurt, holding up two pairs of boots that, for all Dave could tell, were exactly same.

He didn't get it. He couldn't even pretend to get it. Not just the enthusiasm Kyle and Kurt had as they looked at overpriced piles of leather but what about said piles flipped a switch in his best friend. One minute Dave was standing by his partner in crime of nearly ten and the next there was some overexcited girl wearing her face at his side, gushing about something called a "peep-toe". It was a little bit terrifying, to tell the truth.

As much Shoe-Hoarding Kyle (in his head that sounded so much like a fucked up friend of Barbie) unnerved him, though, Dave couldn't say that things had been bad. Surprisingly he might just call it good. They'd had breakfast with Kurt and Noah at Rudy's before Kyle started Kurt's tour of the West Haven shopping district. As a whole it was more fun that Dave had initially believed possible. Perhaps because the company made things extra entertaining.

Noah's drive to beat Kyle at something and earn a hug had not been dampened by five days' worth of thinking and he was itching for a rematch. At just about anything. At breakfast he challenged her to see who could finish their pancakes first. Kyle won and Noah paid the bill. He tried again when they disagreed on the number of Rolling Stones albums made in the 70s while inside some home furnishings boutique. Kyle won again and Noah's punishment was really just the shame of being a guitarist and getting that wrong. The final—and most entertaining—owning came inside Game Stop when Kyle obliterated Noah's score on a racing demo after he had erroneously called her "baby" again. Kyle's reward there had simply been Noah grudgingly admitting her superiority amidst a cluster of gawking nerds. Though his latest defeat had Noah quietly sulking as their group continued on through West Haven, Dave was pretty confident that the other man wasn't done for the day.

Kurt seemed less amused by his best friend's antics than Dave did but then Kurt had been fairly quiet all morning aside from pleasantries and shopping related chatter with Kyle. For a few stomach-turning moments Dave had thought the lack of talking was due to Kurt being uneasy around him. Most of that dissolved (Dave couldn't say just when he wouldn't feel like there were a few eggshells to be careful of around Kurt), though, when Noah teased Kurt about being up until almost three in the morning. For his part Kurt had given the standard flippant reply but his heart just didn't seem to be in it. That, more than the shades Kurt wore, convinced Dave that the smaller man was indeed just tired. Still, there was something off between them, subtle enough to just barely tickle at the back of Dave's head and every now and again he felt like those mirrored sunglasses might be hiding a pair of blue-green eyes as they watched him.

Dave let all of his worries, for the moment, go, however. He'd spent a lot of his life making issues where there were none and he absolutely refused to let any lingering insecurities bother him now. Especially when there was Kyle and her over-protectiveness to consider.

For the moment though, and in spite of the four-inch heels, Dave's best friend was being quite amiable. He liked to believe it was because she loved him but Dave wasn't silly enough not to factor in a shopping buzz that was keeping Kyle so cheerful. He preferred to focus on the first reason, though.

"They're the exact same shoe," Noah quipped from his place, leaning against a structural pillar that congested the boots section of the West Have Shoe Outlet. Like Dave the look on his face belayed the fact that he just did not understand what was to be excited about here. Unlike Dave he was showing his lack of enthusiasm rather than playing a quiet game of "Rocket Piggy" on his cell. Well, quiet-ish; Dave tended to swear a lot under his breath when he failed to steer his pudgy little avatar away from the asteroids in time. And since he collided with one right before Noah opened his mouth, Dave gave up on defeating his high score and shut off his BlackBerry for the time being. By the aggravated face that Kyle and Kurt shared, he was pretty sure that the upcoming lecture Noah was about to receive would be more entertaining than weaving digital pork through space rocks.

"Dude just…Gah —No!" Kyle face-palmed and shook her head. Her eyes darted to Kurt. "He's yours so I feel obligated to ask before I kick him but—can I kick him?"

"Kyle." Dave leveled his sternest gaze on her. She jumped a little bit, in all likely cases from forgetting he was there since he hadn't said a word while since they'd come into the store half an hour ago. Kyle's surprise faded quickly, however, and she pushed her chin out at him like some insolent three-year-old; her quiet way of saying that Dave wasn't the boss of her and she could kick whomever she chose.

"You know, as much as I agree with the sentiment," Kurt interjected, a touch nervously, "I don't think he's earned a beating." He patted Kyle's shoulder in commiseration while throwing a frown at his best friend.

Noah, though, didn't seem to know how not to touch the electrified fence and threw up his hands. "What? They're exactly alike." He pointed accusingly at the boot dangling by its laces from Kyle's left hand. "That one's just mud brown while the other's like…dried dirt brown."

Kurt's eyes were still hidden behind his sunglasses but it was still obvious to Dave, and to everyone else, that they were rolling. He looked at Kyle. "Okay. I'm rethinking that kicking thing."

For a second or two Kyle looked like she was actually contemplating the best way to plant the ball of her foot into Noah's midsection. Dave cleared his throat, though, and, while she made another face at him and flipped him off, all ideas of physical violence dissipated from Kyle's face.

That was another thing Dave could hate about shoe shopping: it made Kyle twice as defensive and she was already way too much of that.

"Okay, look, dummy." Kyle had gotten off of the kicking idea but was clearly not done with Noah. She held up the boot clutched in her right fist. "This is a Frye lace-up engineer boot. And this," she held up the darker one in her left, "is a Doc Marten 20 eyelet. Note the slimmer, more flexible sole on the Frye. The longer toe. Docs are—are—"

"Iconic," Kurt threw in helpfully. There was a small smile playing on his lips suggesting that he was really enjoying how wide-eyed Kyle's lecture had Noah.

"Iconic. Yes, that's the one." Kyle paused and smiled—genuinely smiled—at Kurt. "Thanks, Cutie."

Kurt shrugged nonchalantly but still looked very pleased. "Anytime."

"Anyway," she rounded back on Noah so quickly he jumped. "They are not the same thing. And also? Rust—" Kyle gestured with the Frye. Or at least Dave thought it was the Frye, he couldn't remember which hand was holding which boot anymore. Actually, he couldn't remember most of her tirade; Dave did not give a fuck about shoes "iconic or" not.

"—and Sienna." The Doc (again Dave was guessing) was held up. "Come on. Just because I draw, ink and paint for a living doesn't mean you can't be more creative than 'mud' and 'dried-dirt'." And she whirled around, motioning for Kurt to follow her further down the aisle. Kurt went along with it, shaking his head at a dumbstruck looking Noah as he did.

"Wow," Dave chuckled, finding a particular joy in Noah's wide-eyed expression. "You're not gonna do that again, huh?"

Noah's slack-jaw morphed into a grin as he stared after Kyle. "I dunno, man. Your girl's kinda hot when she rants." There was a pause, where Dave was almost positive Noah's eyes were tracing the curve of Kyle's ass, before flicking to him. "So, what else pisses her off? She got a favorite band I can call crap?"

Dave shook his head and told the other man, "You've got issues." Very briefly, it occurred to him that most best friends would be more concerned with a guy trying so blatantly to get into Kyle's pants and, if they weren't, they probably wouldn't find it so damn funny. There was very little "most" about either himself or Kyle, though, so Dave let himself laugh.

"What?" Noah said. "She's a nice looking lady; s'all I'm saying. Especially when her eyes are all…I dunno…hellfire-y?"

"Not disagreeing," Dave said. "I wouldn't piss her off too much, though. If she kicks she won't be aiming for your shins." He laughed again at the apprehension that crossed Noah's face when those words sank in and took his BlackBerry back out. As he turned, intending to slowly wander down to where Kyle and Kurt where focused on a new pair of shoes, Dave hit the "Rocket Piggy" app. "Oh," he called over his shoulder as an afterthought, "and her favorite band is Garbage. Careful with what you say about Manson, she had a pretty serious girl-crush on her during college."

Noah did not say anything about Shirley Manson in an attempt to annoy Kyle. In fact he didn't speak much the rest of the time that they were in the shoe store. For all his talk, the guitarist seemed to have learned to mimic Dave and play on his phone until Kurt and Kyle were finally done. Consequently, both Kurt and Kyle had bought Frye boots, or at least what Dave thought were Frye boots. She was taken enough with them to switch her suede heels out as they took a break in the coffee shop next door.

Dave didn't even bother stifling his chuckle. Kyle's cobalt eyes were sharp as she looked up from lacing her new boots. "Shut up! I'm breaking them in!" she defended herself.

"I didn't say anything," Dave replied sweetly. "How do your arches feel, though? Little bit strained?"

The snarky retort Kyle opened her mouth to toss his way was interrupted by Noah who leaned over from the seat on Kyle's right to grab one of her discarded boots. Like Dave, his best friend seemed surprised by the way Noah had flipped it over to examine the sole, so she didn't say anything. He prodded the heel before tossing it back down to where Kyle had previously laid it.

"That's not that bad," Noah said dismissively, as if he was suddenly an expert on heels. Dave had obviously been wrong about him learning a lesson. Clearly Noah wanted to Kyle's foot to slam into him.

"Excuse me?" Kyle demanded after several tense seconds of staring at Noah in disbelief.

Kurt's best friend shrugged and took a drink of his coffee. "Those aren't that bad."

"I'm sorry," Kyle said. "But did the guy who can't tell Docs from Fryes just make a comment about high heels?" She crossed her arms and raised a dangerous eyebrow.

Dave glanced at Kurt, wondering if he was going to slap a hand over his best friend's mouth before his grave was completely dug. While there was no reading Kurt's face with those big shades on and his drink at his lips his posture certainly didn't appear too tense. He thought that was unwise but if Kurt wasn't advising Noah to stop then far be it for Dave to step in and do so.

Noah shrugged again. "Look, I can have an opinion. And all I'm saying is that those don't look all that painful."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. Really." He took another sip of coffee and grinned at Kyle. "Really-really."

There were several more very tense moments where Kyle's narrowed eyes held Noah's grinning face and Dave made ready to grab her should she snap. Instead of leaping up and punching Noah, though, Kyle returned his grin with a cyanide-tinted smirk. She grabbed her suede boots and tossed them into Noah's lap.

"Money where your mouth is, Princess." It was more of an order than anything, not that Noah seemed to mind, since he was still smiling. "If they aren't that bad you should be able to walk around in them, right?"

Noah looked between the boots and Kyle, as if debating before he finally asked, "How far?"

"To the door, to the bar then back to the table," Kyle said. "I'll take some pity on you since those clearly aren't your size. You fall you lose."

"What am I losing exactly?" Noah asked.

"Aside from my respect? Chest to chest contact, full ten seconds."

Noah didn't even hesitate in sticking out his hand for Kyle to shake. "Deal." And without another word he toed off his Skechers and began the struggle to slide on Kyle's boots.

Dave shot another glance at Kurt who noticed this time around and offered him half-hearted shrug. His wordless way of saying that if his best friend was dumb enough to do something he couldn't talk him out of it. Not to mention he was too used to this sort of thing to even care anymore.

"Fair enough," he murmured and leaned back in his chair to enjoy the show and his espresso.

Meanwhile Noah had managed to somehow shove his feet into Kyle's size eight shoes and was very slowly, with the help of their table, standing. If Dave were a betting man—which he was not outside of Vegas, of course—then he would be putting his money on Noah toppling over before he reached the door. He just hoped that the guy didn't seriously hurt himself when he hit the floor; the memory of Kyle dislocating her talus in a pair of aptly named ankle-breakers surfaced and Dave couldn't help but shiver.

But Noah surprised him. His gait was very off and he looked highly uncomfortable, true enough, but after a few experimental steps with his chair to help steady things, Noah got his balance almost perfect. By the time he'd made it from the door and was starting for the bar he was strutting. A positively smug smile covered his face and he winked at the barista and the few other patrons paying him attention. In the home stretch, maybe five or six feet from their table, Noah wobbled and Dave was sure that he was going to meet the cement with a smack. At the last possible moment, however, he jerked his body up—he even fucking spun—put one foot in front of the other and then tossed himself into his chair.

"See?" Noah's grin was a mile wide as looked he reached for his latte. He winked at Kyle, who (like Dave) was staring at him openmouthed. "Not that bad. Well, okay, they're fucking awful." Noah's arrogance melted into pure frustration as he rushed to get the boots off. He rubbed his instep once they'd been kicked away and made a face at Kyle. "Tell me why? Why do women wear those things? Ugh!"

"Oh come on," Kurt spoke up for the first time since all this mess had begun. Dave noted a mischievous curl to his lips when he turned to look at the smaller man. "Those are what, four inches at best? Please, those heels are nowhere near as thin or as high as the ones you wore for Velvet Goldmine Night in Brussels."

Kyle's face finally unfroze as Dave started to laugh, an oddly high-pitched "What?" cracking the air. "I—you—what?"

Noah shrugged, his smile undiminished by her voice—even if it had made him jump. "Yeah," he spoke to Kurt though his eyes frequently switched between his best friend and Kyle. "And those were spikier too. And those pleather pants and bustier chaffed like a motherfucker in the heat." He shuddered dramatically. "Fuck, don't even get me started on all that sweat and mascara that got in my eyes. It's nothing short of a miracle none of us fell off the stage."

"Well, Finn was grounded at the drum kit so he couldn't go anywhere and Jules cheated since she plays barefoot no matter what. Now you, Padma, and me? Yeah, fucking miracle." Kurt smiled fondly, almost as if whatever he was remembering was something sweet and straight from his childhood. "The after party made up for all the soreness and nearly twisted ankles, though."

"You mean it made gave you the right kind of soreness," Noah teased.

"Damn right," Kurt said returning his best friend's wicked grin. He held up his drink and Noah butted his own Styrofoam cup against it with a very somber "amen" following it.

Dave, who had been laughing for the majority of this exchange, snapped his fingers drawing their attention. "Okay, you two there are some of us at the table not in on the joke, spill."

"Agreed," Kyle said leaning forward on the table.

"Sorry, sorry," Kurt apologized sitting his coffee down. He exchanged one last look and giggle with Noah before licking his lips and explaining. "Okay, so basically there's been a huge wave of Glam Rock revival in Belgium for the past six or seven years. Well, in Brussels, about four years ago, they started an annual Velvet Goldmine Night at this really popular music venue in the arts district—Shit what's it called Noah?"

Noah laughed. "Seriously? You're the one who speaks the local language, how do you not remember it?"

"Noah!" Kurt playfully slapped his best friend's shoulder.

Pushing back Noah told him, "Ivoire Sanglant, the place is called Ivoire Sanglant." His accent was, surprisingly, very good.

"Thank you," Kurt said, giving him one last nudge with his elbow before returning his attention to Dave and Kyle. "So, yeah, Ivoire Sanglant hosts Velvet Goldmine Night. And at Velvet Goldmine Night every band basically pulls a David Bowie and puts on their Glam face and plays their set. We," he glanced at his best friend and giggled. "We got asked to open it two years ago and Noah's costume came with a pair of these scary looking spike-heel pumps which he spent three days before the concert practicing in."

Dave couldn't help himself; the idea of Noah Puckerman dressed up in fake leather and heels killed him. And even more so to know that he'd put effort into it. Maybe it shouldn't have—he recalled the K.I.S.S. costume from high school—but somehow that seemed distant, even alien at the moment. He could only set his espresso down and clap a hand over his mouth, trying not to look too stupid, as he laughed until his sides hurt.

"I'm sorry!" he apologized when he could finally breathe again. "Really I—in my head it's pretty much Frankenfurter with a guitar. I'm sorry."

Nicely enough, Noah didn't look remotely offended. "It's cool. Seriously. I'm not a man who can pull that look off very well. Though, I'd like to point out unlike Tim Curry I wore pants with my corset. But there were fishnets, I'll own that."

"Did you wear a wig too?" Kyle asked. Like Dave, she seemed to be finding this highly amusing, though her face wasn't red from laughing nor was she gasping for air. "More importantly are there pictures?"

Kurt shared Kyle's enthusiasm and pulled out his phone. "Honey, there are videos. YouTube and what our tour manager took."

Kyle clapped. "Show! Show!"

"Hold it," Noah interjected as Kurt started to comply, fingers flying along the screen of his iPhone. The guitarist looked at Kyle, smirk back in place and his index finger wagging. "Videos of me nearly dying in stilettos after you pay up."

When Kyle's eyebrows went up, a certain unreadable spark in her eyes while her mouth twisted into something that was neither frown nor smile. It was a look that mildly concerned Dave, though, not too much; Kyle was a lot of things but she was not a person who ever welched on a bet. She was far too proud for that sort of thing and Dave's instincts were proven solid as ever (at least concerning Kyle) when she sighed, stood, and held her arms out toward Noah.

"Fine, fine, you're right," she said. "But don't make this weird." Her eyes sharpened critically on Noah, halting his rise from his chair. "Your hands stay above the equator and if you pop wood your cock's meeting my kneecap and then I'm gonna curb stomp you. Got me, Princess?"

Noah put his right hand over his heart. "I solemnly swear not to molest you. I'll be a perfect gentleman."

Kyle rolled her eyes. "Gentlemen is code for secret pervert; just hug me, stupid."

"Fair enough." And he did.

True to his word, Noah's hands stayed completely above board and true to her word Kyle gave him the full ten count of bodily contact. She was even nice enough to let him rest his head on her shoulder and pat his back. Watching the two of them Dave might have called the exchange sort of sweet but he really just couldn't associate the word "sweet" with his BFF. Considerate, warm, and thoughtful yes, but always with a touch of sarcasm because Kyle just wouldn't be Kyle unless she was comforting a grieving mother with joke. Most likely about dicks.

"Okay, dude, time's up," Kyle told him after ten Mississippi's had been reached. She patted his back one last time before starting to pull away. She got about an arm's length out of the embrace before Noah's fingers, clenching her sleeves at the elbow, stopped her. That I-could-destroy-you gleam returned to Kyle's eyes as she looked up at him but Noah didn't let her go. Which, as far as Dave was concerned, was pretty brave. And pretty stupid.

"Are we cool?" Noah asked very seriously. "You're not…pissed about me winning this, right? I totally wasn't aiming to be a dick, here."

Kyle smirked but there was no acidity in it, no mean spirit, or even a trace of trouble. It was the smile Dave knew best, that he and Jude saw most often, just a gentle, wry curve tipping up of the right side of her mouth. Again he might have called it sweet if Kyle weren't in the equation.

"Nah, we're fine, dude," she assured him with an extra pat to his forearm. "In fact, I'm impressed. You literally walked in my shoes and tricked me. You earned your new-friend-hug, friend." When Kyle pulled back that time Noah let her go and bumped her fist when she held it up.

"Awesome," he said. "So, hey if I finally beat you at bowling can I get ten seconds of nipple?" Noah's somber attitude had melted back into normal as he returned to blatantly ogling Kyle's chest.

Kyle surprised Dave by laughing as she dropped back into her chair. "Oh, that's good. Didn't you just hear me? We're friends. You've been friend-zoned, Princess." Her grin was downright evil as it fell on Noah. "And friends don't get a peep show."

As Noah grimaced Dave really couldn't resist jumping in. "That's not actually true, Porthos, and you know it," he reminded Kyle. "How many times have I played bra-helper?"

Kurt giggled as Noah's jaw dropped. "Yeah, but you don't count," Kyle said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We both know you don't enjoy it."

"True," Dave conceded, wondering if it was all right to be enjoying Noah's speechlessness so much. "I prefer your tits covered by a sweater so I can sleep on them."

"What do they look like?" Noah demanded once his voice returned. His eyes darted like pin balls between Kyle's breasts and Dave. He leaned across the table so that he was less than a foot from Dave's face. His pupils were tiny points of black in a mass of feldgrau edged brown.

"Think seventies porn star," Dave told him, somehow managing a straight face. "They sag but then they're perky at the same time, which, aesthetically, I'm impressed by."

"Aw, that's the nicest description I've ever heard about my boobs," Kyle said, playing along. "I love you, Athos."

"Well, I have a BFA in English Lit, if I can't find classy new ways to describe tits then what the fuck am I doing with my life?" he asked reaching over to squeeze Kyle's hand. "Love you too, Porthos."

Further torture was interrupted by a loud "THUMP" and everyone simultaneously whipped their heads towards Kurt's chair only to find he wasn't in it. Kurt had landed on the floor, somewhat gracefully, and currently had his face buried in his knees, sunglasses clutched in one hand as his whole body shook with muffled hiccups of laughter. Briefly, Dave wondered if every meeting he had with Kurt would have moments where the smaller man ended up on the ground.


They left the coffee shop shortly after Kurt laughed himself out of his chair. Partially because there were a few other places Kyle still wanted to hit before they called it a day and got late lunch/obscenely early dinner. The fact that the other patrons had openly started to watch their table factored in too and it wasn't like Dave could blame them.

From the coffee shop they went to some local bath and body knockoff Kyle really liked. Dave didn't hate the place, considering that most of the stuff he himself used came from there (via him letting Kyle pick out everything) but picking out bath salts wasn't really an invigorating task for him. After spending almost an hour there and Kyle buying a couple bags of debatable necessities, their group wandered through one more clothing store and finished up the shopping trip at Kyle's favorite art supply store so she could pick up actual necessities.

"Okay," Kyle said after her fuckton (Dave's word) of paint, canvases, and brushes had been paid for. "Since the truck's eight blocks away and I don't want to carry any of this crap that far," she rustled one of the new bags, "why don't I just leave you guys with the haul? I'll go grab the truck, drive it over, we'll pack, and then grab dinner."

"You're being awfully nice," Dave teased. He cocked his head to the side and gave his best friend a playfully suspicious onceover. "Who are you and where's my Kyle?"

Kyle stuck out her tongue. "Lying in a ditch in near the Woodmont irrigation canals, covered in quicklime. Miss her?"

"Not really."

"Didn't think so." Kyle put her art supply bags down beside the storefront bench which their group currently stood in front of. "Right, you ladies wait here and I will be back shortly." She fished her gloves out of her coat pocket and pulled them on, already heading for the door.

"Hold on, I go with," Noah said dumping his bags and jogging after her. He grinned at Kyle when she paused to glance back at him. "Hey, come on, it's good manners to walk a lady to her car! There are ruffians and shit out there."

"Dude, I have eight brothers," she told him with a roll of her eyes. "Eight. 'Lady' for me only classifies my reproductive bits. The last 'ruffian' who tried anything with me is probably still drinking from a straw."

Noah was unfazed by Kyle's bitchy tirade and countered swiftly. "Look, if we're going to be friends you have to stop trying to give me a boner, Baby." He was punched in the arm for adding 'baby' on but since Kyle was laughing when she did it, Dave decided he shouldn't worry. Especially when Noah punched back; if nothing else he really had won the her respect.

"There's a nerve between the back of my left eye and the base of my spine that's just on fire right now," Kurt murmured as they watched their respective best friends disappear from the store's range of view. "Why is that?"

"Because you have common sense. Don't worry though; she won't ditch us when we have hostages." Plunking the bags he'd been carrying down alongside the others Dave settled on the bench. He tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes; this shopping excursion hadn't been pure hell but Dave was more than all right with it coming to an end.

Of course now he wasn't sure if he would be seeing Kurt again.

That thought sprinted through his head and Dave's eyes opened. He glanced at the other man who was five or so feet away, shifting awkwardly about on his feet. Kurt stood facing an old-fashioned gumball machine, the kind with showy, crazy-slide display that the gumballs raced down when you turned a quarter over, as if he was debating on putting money into it. His shades were back on but even though Dave couldn't see those blue-green eyes he still felt them on him again.

Something about that, about being watched by Kurt, studied by Kurt and so furtively too made Dave feel warm. Not that sentimental crap, not the cheesy fire-in-his-veins lust; though, he could totally admit Kurt looked extra of fuckable that day in his tight jeans and too-big sweater. That was a completely objective observation, though—or so he told himself when his jeans became just a little uncomfortable and had to chase it with thoughts of bra shopping with Kyle.

Honestly, Dave wasn't sure how to describe the prickling heat just beneath his skin when he felt Kurt watching him. He couldn't call it comfortable, he couldn't really classify it as uncomfortable, and he couldn't just dismiss it either. It was an effervescent nothing hanging strange and tense and thick in the air, a moist fog that slid into his lungs and created a damp weight in the middle of his body.

Dave didn't want to make anything weird between he and Kurt but he had to confront this empty, potent fizzle before the subcutaneous itch it started made him a little crazy.

"Do you, um…need a quarter?" he asked, doing his best to sound indifferent rather than awkward tinged with anxiousness. It didn't work but Kurt probably didn't notice since he jumped when Dave spoke.

There was an unmistakable rosy stain bleeding into the paleness of Kurt's skin as he turned toward Dave, one that neither bulky designer sunglasses nor high collared coat could hide. He crossed his arms and shook his head. "No, no. I was just…looking. Or thinking, really." Kurt laughed a little, the sound hollow with nervousness and—Dave thought—something very worn.

Dave tried to smile but he wasn't sure it was coming off so well. It was no scowl but he probably looked constipated rather than amiable. Since Kurt went back to looking away, or pretending to look away, Dave was going to say that the other man wasn't particularly noticing.

"Dude, sit down," he implored waving a hand at the other end of the bench. "You've been on your feet most of the day and the way you're swaying's making me nervous." He forced his mouth to curl upwards into real smile when Kurt balked, biting his lower lip. "Come on, Noah seems cool with me and all but I guarantee if you fall over and crack your head he's not going to believe I didn't try and kill you. Then Kyle will kill him and she'll go to prison and I'll eventually be destitute because the only person who understands my rambling panel notes will be unreachable. So do us both a favor, huh?"

Kurt laughed at that, temporarily puncturing the tension. "Can't argue with that logic, can I?" he joked, nudging a bag out of his way so he could sit. Gracefully Kurt folded one leg beneath him as he settled on the red lacquered planks, his body leaning into the bench's wrought iron arm. Away from Dave. When Kurt's head dipped down, as if he was staring at his lap—though Dave knew he was not—Dave really couldn't stop himself from speaking.

"Is everything okay?" For a second time Kurt jumped at Dave's voice. A very reasonable part of his brain told Dave that he probably shouldn't be asking that or, more specifically, he didn't have the right to. But the other option was pretending that he was okay with this strange vibe that had been rolling between he and Kurt all day. Dave didn't pretend anymore. Not consciously at least. So he cleared his throat and pressed on.

"Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm just being sensitive, I don't know." He met Kurt's gaze squarely through those dark lenses. "This is like the second time we've seen each other in ten years, I didn't really know you when we were kids and I can't say I really know you now. So if I'm being paranoid and weird, I'm sorry. I really am. I'm not—I hope I'm not that kind of idiot." Dave paused, taking a breath and searching Kurt's face, at least the portion visible to him, for affirmation that he was being stupid. By the soft way the other man's lips had parted, a little taken aback but not incredulous, Dave surmised Kurt didn't find any fault with his words.

He continued, "I'd really like to know what's wrong, Kurt. Something about you has been off all day. Or, I mean something about you that feels like it's about me. You're wearing those big glasses and hiding it really well but I've felt you glancing at me all day. And—and if I've done something wrong or I said something stupid I'm sorry but I kind of wish you'd just go ahead and tell me."

Kurt's reaction to Dave's words came fairly close behind them, but still the space between dragged on from Dave's perspective for a fucking eternity. That damp heavy hollow in his center curled into itself, condensing into miasma that wanted to implode and explode all at once. The blankness of Kurt's face, the lack of his expressive eyes to give him away at once was maddening. A new apology was already being woven in the nerves of Dave's brain when Kurt laughed less than a second after Dave had spoken.

It was sort of mirthless but not bad just, like so many he'd shared with Dave already, something saturated with relief. The vapor curling in Dave's chest didn't disappear but it became much lighter immediately. He almost sighed in relief himself.

"Just, for the record, I'd really like to say how nice it is to know what has not improved about me since I was a kid," Kurt said. A half-smile played on his face while he rubbed his forehead. "Couldn't be inconspicuous then, obviously worse at it now." He chuckled removed his sunglasses.

Before, when Kurt fell out of his chair in the coffee shop, laughing so hard that he was crying, Dave really hadn't gotten a good like at Kurt's uncovered face. He'd been laughing himself and Kurt had shoved the things back on after wiping his eyes. Now, though, Dave couldn't miss the dark circles beneath them or the puffiness of the lids. They were slightly bloodshot and tired leaving no doubt that Kurt really hadn't had a restful night.

"I'm sorry," Kurt told him. "And you're not stupid. You can't be stupid when you're that perceptive and you barely know me. I just…" The other man trailed off, weary eyes shifting downward as if to say he couldn't find the right words for this. His brain couldn't form them or perhaps they choked his voice. It worried Dave, a lot, but he didn't know what to say to that unformed idea Kurt needed to convey. He didn't even have a generic non-answer backup that could help.

Luckily all of that didn't matter when Kurt's explanation came direct and nonverbally in the form of him pulling a thin book out of his messenger back.

Dave could actually feel color draining from his face as he looked down at Skin held out by Kurt's thin white hand. His feelings toward the book itself were distant, almost alien. He had poured so much of himself into the pages, so much of his trauma, anger, and just all the festering incongruities in his soul that, when he finished, he really had felt like a different person.

It had been written solely for catharsis, to try and purge some of his self-hatred. That had worked, somewhat, and publishing it had never even occurred to Dave. But after he had mistakenly transferred it onto a flash drive and given it over to Annabeth he got no peace about it. In the end it was Kyle's gentle suggestion about how it might just help other kids who were like him at that age that swayed Dave. Being able to defer all royalties to the Youth In Crisis centers and make Annabeth froth at the mouth was, admittedly, an added bonus.

Never had it occurred to Dave that Kurt might read it. Not once had the scenario run through his head. Dave had dedicated the book to him because he had no other feasible way to make amends but he had never thought that Kurt would read it. He had never imagined Kurt sitting down with Skin and seeing all of Dave's sick and warped feelings through that messy November. And it certainly never occurred to him that he and Kurt would ever discuss it.

"Oh fuck." It really summed up the astonishment and nausea ripping through Dave like a little hurricane as Kurt held that book out. A million apologies, all of them so inadequate to Dave, began tumbling through his head, vying so ferociously for space on his tongue that nothing came out. "Oh fuck" was all that Dave could muster. However, when he looked up he realized that might be for the best.

"Did you really feel like this?" There was hot saltwater glistening in Kurt's already puffy eyes, telling Dave what had kept him up so late.

Dave really wanted to lie but his brain, once all of those broken apologies fizzled away, was just too tired to give him that. And, he knew, he owed Kurt more than that. "Yeah." The word came out cracked and raspy and it seemed to hit Kurt like a fist.

"Shit." The tears started rolling down Kurt's cheeks, burning pink trails as they went. Dave's stomach rolled and his chest clenched so hard he thought his heart stopped for a moment. In the depths of those big blue-green eyes there was a spark of something too close to the fear Dave had put there ten years ago.

"Kurt, Jesus I'm so—" Dave's apology ended with an "oomph" when Kurt's upper body smashed into his. The force of that smaller body rammed Dave back hard enough to knock his head against the wall. It hurt, not unbearably so, and he highly doubted it would leave a mark but it still seemed insane that Kurt could have all the force of a mac truck. At least not when he was just hugging Dave.

"Don't," Kurt ordered after a few moments of leaking into the collar of Dave's coat and shirt. "Don't you ever fucking apologize." His voice was oddly steady for someone who seemed to be losing a liter of fluid by the second. "Not for that and not again for the bullshit when we were kids, okay?"

Since Dave couldn't form any proper response to that utilizing the English language, he started to pat Kurt's back. He couldn't even tell himself if that was an agreement or just a nervous gesture, perhaps both, but Kurt seemed to accept it. The smaller man's arms slid from clenching the fabric of his coat until they circled Dave's torso. Those thin arms were iron, compressing Dave so that he could barely breath. Briefly, Dave's addled brain returned to the idea that Kurt just might be a fucking warlock because he should not be that strong.

"I never thought you were a monster, Dave," Kurt's voice was completely clear despite, or maybe because of, his face being pressed into Dave's collar. His breath hitched a little at those words, though, that could have been just a side effect caused by the stranglehold Kurt had on his ribs. "I'm not saying that you weren't a asshole because you were, you were a big fucking asshole. And I really, really, really wish that I'd been brave enough to just punch you in the face. I think getting knocked out would have been worth it. But I just…"

Kurt raised his head up enough to meet Dave's eyes. They were full of fire and some strange, unshakable determination. A lump formed in the back of Dave's throat and twisted the nerves and muscles leading up to his eyes while his blood decided to run cold. Kurt's eyes burned like that had in that locker room.

"You were an angry fucked up kid, Dave, and what you did was awful. But even when everything was fucking black between us, even when I didn't know it, I didn't hate you. And I am so fucking glad that you didn't throw the towel in and put a shotgun in your mouth like the version of you in that book did."

Dave wasn't consciously aware of crying until the sleeve of Kurt's sweater started to dab at his cheeks. Strangely, he didn't feel weak because of the tears. Maybe Kurt's own crying had just set him at ease but the more likely reason—that voice, the one that sounded like Kyle, whispered at the back of Dave's head—was that he just needed it.

"You say 'fuck' a lot when you're upset," he told Kurt. It was the only clear thought he could grasp in his tired, oddly relieved brain. "I mean a lot."

Kurt laughed, real throaty, exuberant laughter as he pulled his hand back from Dave's now mostly dry face and mopped at his own. Everything suddenly felt so different between them, so relaxed. The elephant Dave hadn't even realized stood in the room had been shot in the head and its demise made every particle of that disquieting haze evaporate. It was a sensation comparable to the flood of relief that had hit him when Dave had finally given Kurt that face-to-face apology he'd stored for ten years. It wasn't quite the same; that had been the assuagement of his guilt. That phenomenally strange thing going on between Kurt and he currently? It was liberation; it was the past dying so that Dave Karofsky the writer could sit with Kurt Hummel the frontman. It was no longer Dave Karofsky the former indescribably fucked up kid awkwardly occupying the same space with Kurt Hummel the former victim of said indescribably fucked up kid. Actually, maybe they were more than that now, maybe they were friends.

"And you're crazy strong," he added, somehow unable to stop his inner monologue. He didn't care though and Kurt didn't seem to either. "I can feel the bruises setting in, no kidding."

"Yes, well you're very inarticulate when you're upset," Kurt replied. He slid away from Dave and pulled both of his feet up onto the seat, resting his chin on his knees as he looked at Dave. "That seems terribly inappropriate for a writer of your caliber."

Dave shrugged. "Sitting down and organizing some thoughts for hours on end isn't the same as having them ready to spout out on a whim."

"Got me there," Kurt said. He laughed again and Dave was warmed by the sound. "Wow, I spent all day trying to figure out how to bring that up. Not saying it was easy but wow, feels better."

"It does. And thanks for not beating the shit out of me for the rapey undertones in there." He flipped the book back toward Kurt who caught it and made a face at the cover.

"I wouldn't have called them 'rapey'. Troubled-teen-hormonal-Molotov-cocktail fits better, I think. But I can't bring myself to be super outraged by that when I had a really graphic/messed up dream about making you admit you were gay once." Kurt's cheeks pinked, just a little but he shrugged. "My subconscious fell off of its high horse awhile ago."

Somehow Dave found that funny. Hysterically funny and he spent what felt like forever, he couldn't tell since his sides were already sore, laughing until he almost cried. Kurt, for whatever reason, perhaps a shared, latent mental illness, agreed with that.

"Wow," Dave said after he regained control of his lungs. "Wow, we should not be laughing about this shit. It's—it's fucked up on a level I didn't know existed." And Dave chuckled when he said that.

"Fuck it, it's our shared trauma we'll laugh about and make inappropriate jokes about it if we want to," Kurt said.

"See? Are you listening to yourself? F-bombs all over, man."

"Shut the fuck up, Dave."

Fifteen minutes later, when Kyle and Noah pulled up to the curb in the truck, both Kurt and Dave were composed. The only thing that might give away something had changed between them were Kurt's pink eyes and lack of sunglasses. And, maybe, the way Dave riotously laughed through dinner whenever Kurt would mutter "fuck" under his breath.

Author’s Note Part Deux: First off Ivoire Sanglant and Velvet Goldmine Night, sadly, are an inventions of my imagination. Well, technically they’re Bea’s but I wrote them out so…dibs! I hope that you all like this chapter and that you tell me how much you liked it with a review. They make me feel ever so fuzzy.

Also, it bears to mention that I’m returning to school as of September 1st, so, my updates are probably going to get thinner as papers start to consume my life again like soul gnawing piranha. Sorry, I love writing Comic Cons, I intend to finish it, but my degree comes above everything else. Except chocolate. Wish me luck!

Info Links…Sort of, anyway.

I don’t actually have any fun information for this chapter but I was inspired (bored) enough to make these. I’m a Photoshop addict and I am all right with that.





Previous Chapters

Chapter One: Release The Kraken
Chapter Two: Green Eyed Monsters
Chapter Three: Words To Live By
Chapter Four: Left Field Doesn’t Do It Justice
Chapter Five: All The Words Left Unsaid
Chapter Six: A Clean Slate Part A|Part B
Chapter Seven: As Said Best By Emerson
Current Mood: busybusy
caliena on August 28th, 2011 05:06 pm (UTC)
Damn you, woman, I just wanted to go snuggle in bed and watch Doctor Who...
*is off to read*
celesteennuicelesteennui on August 30th, 2011 03:16 pm (UTC)
Haha, oh no! I interrupted Doctor Who time! :)
caliena on August 30th, 2011 03:30 pm (UTC)
Yes. Yes, you DID. Evil woman... :D
celesteennuicelesteennui on August 30th, 2011 03:53 pm (UTC)
I'd apologize but I don't think you'd believe me :P
caliena on August 30th, 2011 04:00 pm (UTC)
I don't, but that's okay, I don't regret it anyway :D
lizzypoodlelizzypoodle on August 28th, 2011 05:59 pm (UTC)
I will miss your updates, but I wish you all the best in your upcoming school year! Your writing is sheer delight. I felt relief right along with our boys as they communicated. Also, I LOVE the clothes that you put together at the end of this chapter. They struck me as PERFECT and if you could put together a wardrobe for me, I would not mind in the least! Excellent work, as always!
celesteennuicelesteennui on August 30th, 2011 03:22 pm (UTC)
Thank you, sugar, really that means a lot to me :) I'm hoping that everything goes smooth enough that I get Saturday or Sunday morning to devote to Comic Cons and I can make it worthwhile. You're a brave person to offer me wardrobe reigns, lol, I'm probably the worst dressed person in any room; I'm pretty lazy and I hate not being in my blue jeans.
caliena on August 28th, 2011 06:08 pm (UTC)
And just because I can I will do the comment-while-reading thing!

I love Dave and Kyle's relationship.
I had something like that once and miss it terrible - as in most cases, sex got in the way.
Good for those two, that is not a problem :D

Oh and I love their banter... Seriously, it makes me forget all about the possible Kurtofsky in this story :D

I am totally with Dave on the shoe business... I am such a bad girl :D

Puck and Kurt in Heels... Oh, yes, please :D
When Puck took the bet I KNEW he'd win because of something like that :D
Poor guy for getting friend-zoned for being awesome :D

God, my face feels strange from all the grinning...

I love how mature Dave is while talking to Kurt about something feeling off.
It's so DIFFERENT than his High School self... And so awesome.

Holy shit, it has been so long, i forgot about the novel. Fuck Oo
This explains everything :D
I so love the reactions of both of them...

And thanks once more for the attached pictures :)I want Kyle's skirt and Kurt's coat :D

What I have to say, just for a second: There are some mistakes in there that threw me off track now and then.
Maybe you should give it another look over?

celesteennuicelesteennui on August 30th, 2011 03:25 pm (UTC)
Hee *I'm* with Dave on the shoe business too, sugar. Nice to look at on the internet but trying them on and buying? No thanks. And I promise you'll get a video (written about) of Puck and Kurt in heels at some point, at the very least.

Your words, as always, honey, are wonderful and thoughtful, thank you.
Carly: Corycarolina_hope on August 28th, 2011 06:22 pm (UTC)
incredible. simply incredible

I really like Kyle and Noah interacting. its like they found their match in the other.

and Dave and Kurt? they never really knew each other, did they? but they have a chance to get to know the other now and they seem pretty damn interested. and it feels like now they fully dealt with the past they can move forward

as for updates, I will wait patiently for every single one because this story is worth it
celesteennuicelesteennui on August 30th, 2011 03:29 pm (UTC)
*blushes* Thank you, sugar. Kyle and Noah are my second favorite pair to write, the characters have minds of their own and I always end up taking things in a different direction than what I had originally intended.

No, they didn't. That's a big problem I've had with Glee, Kurt doesn't know Dave at all, hell we pirates don't even know him that well because the writer's haven't given him the back story-and us the full disclosure-that a character like him deserves.

I hope my updates don't get draggier :/ I really do but I'm glad I've got you on board for the long haul :)
david_of_oz on August 28th, 2011 10:20 pm (UTC)
Fuck school, just write this and submit it as your final thesis. Just sayin'.
Wonderful wonderful stuff.
celesteennuicelesteennui on August 30th, 2011 03:31 pm (UTC)
God I WISH. That would be awesome-and probably way more entertaining than what I'll probably end up doing. Thank you, sugar.
Courier Six: glee [puck]watchpoint on August 29th, 2011 04:14 am (UTC)
This chapter made me so very happy. I love the group interactions particularly the hilarity that is Kyle and Noah with the handful of moments where Kurt or Dave try to reel them in. It's so entertaining.

Then the scene where Kurt and Dave talk about the book was perfect. I love how Dave broached the subject of whatever was bothering Kurt and that Kurt didn't really need to explain anything other than showing Dave the book. And then the hug-and-cry session was so nice and necessary.

Obviously I love Kurt and Dave and want them to be together in fic but in this one I REALLY want them to get together. I can't wait. And you'll write it perfectly as always and everything will be right in the universe.
celesteennuicelesteennui on August 30th, 2011 03:40 pm (UTC)
Your review has made me so very happy :) Really, sugar, it's lovely.

I'm glad that you and my other readers have, thus far, been approving of the book. I thought it might be a little too much.

And Kurtofsky IS definitely endgame here in Comic Cons-how long it's going to take and all the bumps on the road are different story, though :)
gleekxtergleekxter on August 29th, 2011 06:51 am (UTC)
This was amazing, I love everything about it. absolutely everything. :)
Love love love. love...love.

(sorry this review is less crazily happy then my others. Not feeling well, when I feel better I'll crazy-scream review.)
Much love and chocolate. :)
celesteennuicelesteennui on August 30th, 2011 03:42 pm (UTC)
Haha, it's fine sugar, any and all reviews are beautiful things. I hope you feel better soon!
lizibabeslizibabes on August 29th, 2011 04:48 pm (UTC)
Another great chapter!! this was brilliant!
celesteennuicelesteennui on August 30th, 2011 03:53 pm (UTC)
Thank you, sugar :)
Debora Jade McGonagalltherealmarajade on August 30th, 2011 07:21 am (UTC)
I've been a very bad girl and not reviewing this FANTASTIC fanfic every chapter, but let me tell you, the amount of care and thought and TIME you take with each chapter...

I feel bad asking for more because it seems like you go through a LOT of trouble to make everything fit so nicely and perfect!

I've been loving this, I especially love Kyle, and it's not easy for me to love OCs!

I can't wait to see Dave and Kurt get together, but I have a confession to make...after reading this chapter, I had a mental image of future!Dave and future!Kurt marrying, Noah as Kurt Best Man, Kyle as Dave's Maid of Honor, still just friends, but only to be found out later, during the party, hidden somewhere screwing each other's brains out!

Obviously, it should be Dave and Kurt who would do the finding! ;) ;)

Thank you for such a wonderful fic!
celesteennuicelesteennui on August 30th, 2011 03:52 pm (UTC)
Wow, just, wow... This is such a chock-full-of-awesome review. Really, it's just absolutely wonderful :)

I'm glad that you-and most people-seem to have taken to Kyle, OCs especially female ones I've noticed, aren't usually received well in any fandom and really not in Glee. I've said it before and I'll say it again but praise for OCs is probably the highest that fanfic author can get.

Haha, Oh Noah and Kyle...They would be such a hot mess hookup, wouldn't they?

Thank YOU for this review!
Debora Jade McGonagalltherealmarajade on August 30th, 2011 05:17 pm (UTC)
You made me all happy and gush-y (is that even a word? LOL) with your reply! ;) I'm glad you liked the review! ;)

Also, I think I'm on WAY too much of a pervy mood today, because my mental image of Puck and Kyle getting it on went even BEYOND that - I pictured them both wearing nothing but HIGH HEELS - yes, BOTH of them, Puck's actually the same one he wore at the Velvet Goldmine festival...XD

But why in HELL would they have such high heels during Kurt and Dave's wedding, right? Hum...perhaps another bet? LOL! XD ;)
askleonard85askleonard85 on September 2nd, 2011 11:32 am (UTC)
It's mind-blowing how badass this story is. I'm hooked, like seriously. I mean I've never done a hardcore drug but I have a feeling that my attachment to this story is just as bad. And these are fictitious characters and I yet I care about them SO much. I love the progression. You could have so had Kurt and Dave together in chapter 3 but you're actually going for realism here and I applaud you for it. I cannot wait - and I mean that to (withdrawals here) - for chapter 9. I feel that Kurt and Dave crossed a bridge in chapter 8 and now things are primed and ready, so to speak. Please, please, please keep writing because you're wonderful at it. Okay, I'm ranting now so I'll end this.
celesteennuicelesteennui on September 3rd, 2011 03:51 pm (UTC)
Awwwwwww I love your ranting, it's made me blush. Thank you so much, sugar, this is a lovely thing for me to read.
Travis: I like you best on your knees. Garbagesnikelfritzz on November 19th, 2011 09:54 am (UTC)
I didn't almost cry while reading this chapter... >.>
Also I am loving this possibly too much but dammit I regret nothing! And I need Kurt's boots in my life.
celesteennuicelesteennui on December 7th, 2011 09:05 am (UTC)
Aww *hands tissue*

Thank you, sugar.
Kate Moodymoodilylit on January 15th, 2012 01:22 pm (UTC)

Ok, so this was a while a got but I too was away and then I looked this up and like DAMN! SHE'S BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

Off to read the rest :D
celesteennuicelesteennui on January 15th, 2012 07:01 pm (UTC)
Haha! Yes, sugar I'm back. I <3 your enthusiasm, it surely brightens up the winter night.