"Uh. Hey, dude."
Dean clears his throat a little awkwardly. The camera is settled this time on what appears to be the coffee table in front of the worn sofa, if the stack of automobile magazines obscuring half the frame are any indication. He nudges them aside with one hand before raking said hand through his hair and ruffling cropped dirty-
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But, he listens. He doesn't swoon over Dean playing the guitar, and he doesn't plot ways to choke him with the strings. He just...listens.
He clearly looks like he has mixed feelings about it, but he doesn't look angry, exactly. He's actually looking more at the floor than he is at the communicator.
Kurt takes a deep breath. And then he speaks, his voice just above a whisper.
"...You really are suited to classic rock."
So maybe he can knock this apology up to something of a B+.
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He doesn't really know why he cares so much that other people care. Here, he's stuck in a loop. There's no way Dean can possibly leave, having no access to his baby and no open road calling him. There are no jobs. There are no immediate threats.
There's nothing else he can do but try to make the best of a bad situation (which is exactly what Kurt told him that one time they went to the beach). While spreading roots and getting to know people has never been Dean Winchester's forte, here he has no choice.
There's no Sam.
There's no dad.
There's just an angel he doesn't really know, an old friend he never keeps in touch with, and the few people who appear to actually like him enough to stand being around him for extended periods of time. Dean isn't used to that. He's used to one-night-stands and crappy diner food and sixteen-hour ( ... )
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"I...don't hate you. Really." Somehow, spitting it out is harder than Kurt thought it would be, but he goes on. "And I probably shouldn't have walked out like that."
Stormed out is really more the right phrase, but you know. Walked out, stormed out; tomatoes, tomahtoes. Same thing. Close enough.
"I just..." He rubs at his wrist awkwardly. "I got my hopes up. No straight guys ever act that way with me, so I just assumed..."
Assumed that Dean loved him. There's only three kinds of men after all, according to Kurt - homophobic straight men, straight men who won't throw you in a dumpster but still hold you at an arm's distance, and gay men. That last category is much more mysterious, given that Kurt doesn't personally know any gay men, so men who don't fall in the first two categories tend to get tossed into the third ( ... )
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"Nah, it was my fault, too," He admits willingly, shaking his head. "I shoulda noticed sooner, and done something about it. I really didn't wanna hurt you, man."
Dean chuckles, "And yeah, you over-reacted." He's not going to suger-coat it when it's the truth. "I thought you were gonna Hulk out, Kurt." The hunter teases gently, feeling much better about the situation now that it's been diffused to some extent. Dean still has some nagging doubts, mostly thanks to that message Kurt left on the public network.
"I forgive you."
He states bluntly, straight-to-the-point. "I'm gonna be honest, dude, I really do trust you. I wasn't lying. And I'm always ( ... )
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