FIC: After Prom, 2/? WIP
Part 1:
Disclaimers: I neither own nor make any profit from Glee or any songs mentioned in this story. I am always grateful for your opinion, but it is my firm policy not to answer reviews.
Kurt should have thought this whole pebble thing through. He had figured out from past conversations that David's bedroom was in the attic, but sadly the stereotypes were true- Kurt Hummel threw like a girl. His first few throws fell pitifully short. At least the pebbles were reaching the top floor now, but they kept hitting the wall, nowhere near Dave's window. Shit! His latest throw veered wildly off course, clattering against a ground floor window with a noise that sounded horribly loud to Kurt.
He ducked down, expecting the imminent wrath of Mr., or worse, Mrs. Karofsky.
"The fuck?"
Oh thank goodness, that was David angrily throwing up the window sash. That was convenient. Although Kurt was a little annoyed with him for not being in his picturesque garret bedroom, like he was supposed to be.
"David," he hissed.
David jumped backwards with an undignified squeak.
"Kurt?! ...What are you doing in my bushes?"
Kurt tried to look dignified while pulling a creeper off his top hat.
"Good evening, David. It's a surprise, come out here and see."
David's eyes flicked nervously as he peered into the darkness on either side of Kurt. Kurt huffed.
"David. It's a nice surprise. Seriously. Did you think I have the football team waiting out here with a barrage of slushies?"
David's shoulders hunched defensively. Kurt struggled through the bushes and reached up to squeeze his wrist, which was resting on the window sill.
"Please come out here."
The other boy gave a tiny nod. he gently shook Kurt's hand off his wrist and brought a finger to his lips as he eased the window shut again and retreated. The light in the room went out and Kurt hurried to the picnic table at the end of Dave's backyard, where he had set up. As David eased out his back door, nervously pulling his bathrobe tight over his plaid pajamas, Kurt flicked on the portable radio, set to the oldies station, along with the battery-operated bubble machine he had bought, but been vetoed from using, for his dad's wedding.
David stepped closer hesitantly, and Kurt got his first good look at his face. Shit, he had definitely been crying. Kurt had been right, which meant he had a lot to make up for.
"Um, what is this?"
"It's tradition. Prom royalty must share at least one dance."
Kurt took a nervous breath and lifted up his top hat, revealing his old prom queen crown.
"Last year a very foolish boy made a very selfish suggestion, and you were cheated out of your dance."
"Don't. You have nothing to apologize to me for, ever. And I don't- I don't want you fucking feeling sorry for me."
"Please David. I need this. I-last year was so ugly, and I need to fix it. I need to have a good memory with my prom king."
"What does your boyfriend think about this?"
"He understood, he told me to give you his regards."
Lie. Kurt had cobbled together some story about his Dad revoking his curfew and Blaine accepted it gracefully, while making all the proper noises about regretting missing out on their romantic after-party plans. Blaine had been very sure to frequently express desire and shower Kurt with compliments since their fight. Kurt had done his best to consider Blaine's feelings and sooth his separation anxiety, but more and more, Kurt found himself doing this through lying.
Not about big things. He understood how much the Chandler thing had hurt his boyfriend, and he had cut out the flirty texts immediately. But "It's Not Right But It's Okay" had hurt Kurt deeply, and he just didn't trust his boyfriend to understand him like he used too. It was easier not to talk about his plans for decorating his future dorm room when he knew it would make Blaine tense up, easier not to ask him if he thought a "The Boy From Oz" song was a good idea when he remembered all the times Blaine looked uncomfortable because he thought Kurt was being too 'flamboyant,' and it was definitely easier not to mention that he was going to visit David when the last time Blaine had insisted on waiting in the car at the hospital- as if Kurt needed his protection.
"Liar."
"Excuse me?"
"Bullshit. No way would that dude let you come out here alone at night."
"As far as I know, I am not my younger boyfriend's property, and I don't need him to let me do anything," Kurt snapped, unsettled that Dave had said out loud the thing that bothered him about Blaine's probable reaction. "Look, Blaine maybe has the right to be up be up in my business, but not in yours. I don't know that it was right for me to tell him about you last year. I think maybe everything would have gone better if I hadn't."
David's lips thinned.
"I meant it. Don't you apologize to me. I'm not gonna stand here and let you-"
"Then don't stand here, dance with me. Please."
David crossed his arms mutinously.
"I don't really want your pity, thanks."
Kurt's eyes flashed and he got up in David's face, hissing angrily.
"Will you stop being such a miserable bastard! I want to dance with you! For myself, for selfish reasons, so I can have the complete prom experience and a little closure! If you don't want to dance with me, just say s-"
Dave finally met Kurt's eyes and Kurt felt a sudden pain in the back of his throat.
"I want to dance with you," David murmured in a gravelly, barely audible voice.
Kurt swayed forward.
"Well then,"
"I don't have my crown though. I kinda stomped it into a billion pieces."
Kurt smiled ruefully and rustled behind him on the picnic table.
"I came prepared. Puck very kindly lent me the official anti-prom crown."
He held out the makeshift cardboard crown and was surprised and a tiny bit thrilled when David bent his head. He gently placed the crown on the other boy, his fingers brushing against David's surprisingly soft curls. David rolled his eyes.
"Is this a beer carton? I bet I look like a total idiot."
"Not at all. Plaid is definitely your fabric. If it really matters I can wait for you to go get a suit out of your closet, but you have to promise to come back down."
David's half-joking manner abruptly dropped and he seemed to shrink in on himself. Without thinking Kurt grabbed one of his hands, which he noticed was trembling.
"David? What's wrong?"
"Did anyone tell you... did anyone tell you how I did it?"
Kurt started to tremble too.
"No. I didn't ask for any details, because I didn't have any right to."
"I have to sleep on the couch in the living room now, 'cuz I'm not allowed to be alone in my old room. Because then I have to look at- at the closet."
Kurt whimpered and squeezed David's hand between his own.
"I tried to- I used a belt and I tried to h- and I put on my best suit before I did it. I don't know why. To make it less ugly, I guess? As if that would have mattered to my parents at all. As soon as I did it I was sorry. It hurt and I was so scared, and I'm so, so glad my dad saved me. But so, um, I don't think I can wear a suit like anymore ever."
Kurt had been weeping unabashedly for most of this speech, he cradled Dave's captive hand against his chest.
"I'm sor-"
"Don't apol-"
"I'm sorry I didn't wear my kilt."
Kurt placed David's hand on his waist and ran his own hands determinedly down the lapels of David's bathrobe, pulling him closer.
"It would have complimented your tartan pajamas beautifully."
Dave's hand hovered, unsure, over Kurt's waist. Kurt looked up at him imploringly, eyes awash with tears, as Ben E King's version of Stand By Me came on the radio.
"Please David."
And, as the cheesy swelling strings and acrid-smelling bubbles swirled around them, David sighed and pulled Kurt at last into his arms and Kurt dropped his face onto David's flannel-covered chest with a relieved sob.
Disclaimers: I neither own nor make any profit from Glee or any songs mentioned in this story. I am always grateful for your opinion, but it is my firm policy not to answer reviews.
Kurt should have thought this whole pebble thing through. He had figured out from past conversations that David's bedroom was in the attic, but sadly the stereotypes were true- Kurt Hummel threw like a girl. His first few throws fell pitifully short. At least the pebbles were reaching the top floor now, but they kept hitting the wall, nowhere near Dave's window. Shit! His latest throw veered wildly off course, clattering against a ground floor window with a noise that sounded horribly loud to Kurt.
He ducked down, expecting the imminent wrath of Mr., or worse, Mrs. Karofsky.
"The fuck?"
Oh thank goodness, that was David angrily throwing up the window sash. That was convenient. Although Kurt was a little annoyed with him for not being in his picturesque garret bedroom, like he was supposed to be.
"David," he hissed.
David jumped backwards with an undignified squeak.
"Kurt?! ...What are you doing in my bushes?"
Kurt tried to look dignified while pulling a creeper off his top hat.
"Good evening, David. It's a surprise, come out here and see."
David's eyes flicked nervously as he peered into the darkness on either side of Kurt. Kurt huffed.
"David. It's a nice surprise. Seriously. Did you think I have the football team waiting out here with a barrage of slushies?"
David's shoulders hunched defensively. Kurt struggled through the bushes and reached up to squeeze his wrist, which was resting on the window sill.
"Please come out here."
The other boy gave a tiny nod. he gently shook Kurt's hand off his wrist and brought a finger to his lips as he eased the window shut again and retreated. The light in the room went out and Kurt hurried to the picnic table at the end of Dave's backyard, where he had set up. As David eased out his back door, nervously pulling his bathrobe tight over his plaid pajamas, Kurt flicked on the portable radio, set to the oldies station, along with the battery-operated bubble machine he had bought, but been vetoed from using, for his dad's wedding.
David stepped closer hesitantly, and Kurt got his first good look at his face. Shit, he had definitely been crying. Kurt had been right, which meant he had a lot to make up for.
"Um, what is this?"
"It's tradition. Prom royalty must share at least one dance."
Kurt took a nervous breath and lifted up his top hat, revealing his old prom queen crown.
"Last year a very foolish boy made a very selfish suggestion, and you were cheated out of your dance."
"Don't. You have nothing to apologize to me for, ever. And I don't- I don't want you fucking feeling sorry for me."
"Please David. I need this. I-last year was so ugly, and I need to fix it. I need to have a good memory with my prom king."
"What does your boyfriend think about this?"
"He understood, he told me to give you his regards."
Lie. Kurt had cobbled together some story about his Dad revoking his curfew and Blaine accepted it gracefully, while making all the proper noises about regretting missing out on their romantic after-party plans. Blaine had been very sure to frequently express desire and shower Kurt with compliments since their fight. Kurt had done his best to consider Blaine's feelings and sooth his separation anxiety, but more and more, Kurt found himself doing this through lying.
Not about big things. He understood how much the Chandler thing had hurt his boyfriend, and he had cut out the flirty texts immediately. But "It's Not Right But It's Okay" had hurt Kurt deeply, and he just didn't trust his boyfriend to understand him like he used too. It was easier not to talk about his plans for decorating his future dorm room when he knew it would make Blaine tense up, easier not to ask him if he thought a "The Boy From Oz" song was a good idea when he remembered all the times Blaine looked uncomfortable because he thought Kurt was being too 'flamboyant,' and it was definitely easier not to mention that he was going to visit David when the last time Blaine had insisted on waiting in the car at the hospital- as if Kurt needed his protection.
"Liar."
"Excuse me?"
"Bullshit. No way would that dude let you come out here alone at night."
"As far as I know, I am not my younger boyfriend's property, and I don't need him to let me do anything," Kurt snapped, unsettled that Dave had said out loud the thing that bothered him about Blaine's probable reaction. "Look, Blaine maybe has the right to be up be up in my business, but not in yours. I don't know that it was right for me to tell him about you last year. I think maybe everything would have gone better if I hadn't."
David's lips thinned.
"I meant it. Don't you apologize to me. I'm not gonna stand here and let you-"
"Then don't stand here, dance with me. Please."
David crossed his arms mutinously.
"I don't really want your pity, thanks."
Kurt's eyes flashed and he got up in David's face, hissing angrily.
"Will you stop being such a miserable bastard! I want to dance with you! For myself, for selfish reasons, so I can have the complete prom experience and a little closure! If you don't want to dance with me, just say s-"
Dave finally met Kurt's eyes and Kurt felt a sudden pain in the back of his throat.
"I want to dance with you," David murmured in a gravelly, barely audible voice.
Kurt swayed forward.
"Well then,"
"I don't have my crown though. I kinda stomped it into a billion pieces."
Kurt smiled ruefully and rustled behind him on the picnic table.
"I came prepared. Puck very kindly lent me the official anti-prom crown."
He held out the makeshift cardboard crown and was surprised and a tiny bit thrilled when David bent his head. He gently placed the crown on the other boy, his fingers brushing against David's surprisingly soft curls. David rolled his eyes.
"Is this a beer carton? I bet I look like a total idiot."
"Not at all. Plaid is definitely your fabric. If it really matters I can wait for you to go get a suit out of your closet, but you have to promise to come back down."
David's half-joking manner abruptly dropped and he seemed to shrink in on himself. Without thinking Kurt grabbed one of his hands, which he noticed was trembling.
"David? What's wrong?"
"Did anyone tell you... did anyone tell you how I did it?"
Kurt started to tremble too.
"No. I didn't ask for any details, because I didn't have any right to."
"I have to sleep on the couch in the living room now, 'cuz I'm not allowed to be alone in my old room. Because then I have to look at- at the closet."
Kurt whimpered and squeezed David's hand between his own.
"I tried to- I used a belt and I tried to h- and I put on my best suit before I did it. I don't know why. To make it less ugly, I guess? As if that would have mattered to my parents at all. As soon as I did it I was sorry. It hurt and I was so scared, and I'm so, so glad my dad saved me. But so, um, I don't think I can wear a suit like anymore ever."
Kurt had been weeping unabashedly for most of this speech, he cradled Dave's captive hand against his chest.
"I'm sor-"
"Don't apol-"
"I'm sorry I didn't wear my kilt."
Kurt placed David's hand on his waist and ran his own hands determinedly down the lapels of David's bathrobe, pulling him closer.
"It would have complimented your tartan pajamas beautifully."
Dave's hand hovered, unsure, over Kurt's waist. Kurt looked up at him imploringly, eyes awash with tears, as Ben E King's version of Stand By Me came on the radio.
"Please David."
And, as the cheesy swelling strings and acrid-smelling bubbles swirled around them, David sighed and pulled Kurt at last into his arms and Kurt dropped his face onto David's flannel-covered chest with a relieved sob.