Fic: Boys of Summer, 2/2
Title: Boys of Summer, 2/2
Author: knittycat99
Rating: PG-13 for mild language
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Karofsky
Genre: friendship
Spoilers: let's say all of seasons 1 and 2 to be safe
Disclaimer: I don't own them, they belong to FOX
Author Notes: Follow up to Much Too High a Cost, Watch me Fly, These Broken Wings, and Boys of Summer 1/2 . Read those first, please, if you haven't already, or this will make no sense at all.
Summary: Dave gets brave, and issues a challenge
Word Count: 3,694
On the first Monday of August, the first day of preseason, Dave finally decides to quit the football team. He can tell that Coach Beiste must have been expecting something, because she ushers him into her office and shuts the door without a word. Only after he’s settled into the hard plastic chair opposite her desk does he stammer out his confession.
“Coach, I won’t be playing football this year.”
Her face gives nothing away; instead, he watches her looking at him over her steepled hands. “Can I ask you why?”
“I just. I think.” He takes a deep breath and tries again. He’s written this speech twenty times in his head, has it all planned out. He wants to tell her something about focusing on school and maybe seeing if he fits somewhere besides field and locker room, but all of that is gone and what he says instead is “Coach, I’m gay.” He feels the words in his stomach before he hears them echoing in his ears, and he can’t believe he actually said it. He watches as Coach sits back in her chair and nods her head.
“Thank you for trusting me with that, David. But you don’t need to leave the team because of it.”
“No. No. That’s not why. I just. I’m going to be a senior. All I’ve ever been at this school is a dumb jock, and a bully. I’m more than that, and I need to prove it.”
“You’re not dumb, I’ve seen your grade reports, remember? And you don’t need to prove it to me.”
“I have to prove it to myself, Coach. And I can’t do that if the only crowd I’m a part of this year is the only crowd I’ve ever been a part of.” Now that he’s talking, he can’t turn off his brain. “Football isn’t going to get me out of this town. Don’t get me wrong, it’s given me lots of things, but I need to find other things that I love. I need to . . .” He can feel the words piling up, and he struggles to form a coherent sentence before they just tumble out willy-nilly. “I need to figure out who I am before I can go anywhere. And I need to quit the team to do that.”
He squirms in his chair while he waits for Coach to say something, anything. Finally, she clears her throat and asks “Do you have college plans?”
“I’m, um, applying to some places.”
“I would be honored to write you a recommendation if you want. You’re a good player, David. And I’m really happy that you’re getting things together. If you ever need anything, you can always come to me. Even though I’m not your coach anymore. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Coach.”
She stands up, comes out from around her desk, and grabs him in a fierce hug. “Now, get your behind out of here. I have newbies to torture.”
Dave isn’t prepared at all for the lightness he feels in his chest as he walks out into the early morning sunshine. He feels free and happy, and he can’t wait to tell Kurt.
*****
Kurt and his dad are working together on a tire rotation and alignment, are almost done in fact, when Tony calls into the garage from the office. “Kurt! Someone here to see you!” Kurt looks up at his dad and shrugs his shoulders before wiping his grease-covered hands on a shop towel and heading to the front. When he sees Dave, he turns back to his dad and says “I might need a few minutes.”
“Go ahead. I’ll finish up here. Take 15.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Yeah.”
He starts talking before he even gets the office door completely open. This is . . . well. To call it unprecedented wouldn’t be going too far. In the weeks since they started meeting, they have never strayed beyond the careful boundaries of library, Lima Bean, coffee and chess. The first thing that pops into Kurt’s mind is that something is terribly wrong, but then he sees the broad smile snaking its way across Dave’s face. It’s a sight Kurt hasn’t glimpsed too often, and it makes him smile in response.
“I thought something was wrong,” he tells Dave as he crosses into the office and shuts out the noise of the garage. He watches curiously as Dave takes in his coverall, the black bandana covering his hair, the grease on his hands.
“You’re different.” Dave blurts out what was clearly the first thing to pop into his head.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, you’re always confident, but you move differently here. Like you’re actually relaxed.”
Kurt leans against the door, and thinks before he speaks. “It’s different. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. I can’t be long, have to get back.” He nods his head towards the garage, where he can see his dad pretending to work while he keeps a watchful eye on the situation. Kurt hasn’t mentioned their Tuesday routine, and he knows Dave hasn’t, either.
“That’s fine. I just. Um.” Dave shifts his weight from foot to foot, and Kurt thinks that he really has to get his fidgeting under control.
“Speak, Dave.”
Dave laughs at him then, actually laughs, and pours out “I quit the team. And I told Coach. You know. Told her.”
“And?”
“And she didn’t seem surprised. Told me that wasn’t a reason to quit the team, even though that wasn’t why. I told her that, too, and she said that she’d write me a college recommendation if I wanted.” His cheeks turn pink before he adds “She hugged me.”
“Congratulations, Dave. I’m proud of you. You seem happy.”
“I am. God. I forgot what this feels like.”
“Enjoy it.”
“I will. Go back to work.”
“You sure? Because I could probably get off early, if you want to hang out.” Kurt isn’t sure where the offer comes from, isn’t sure what he and Dave would even do outside of their planned outings. But it doesn’t feel awkward to offer, and Kurt supposes that’s a good thing.
“No. I have work later. But I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Same time, same place.”
“Good. Because I have some books for you. And some things to show you.”
“Good.” Kurt turns to head back into the garage, even gets the door half-opened, but he halts when Dave whispers his name. When he looks back, Dave’s face is serious and soft. He doesn’t say anything, just waits. Finally, Dave manages “Thank you. For. Well. You know. Everything.”
Kurt’s own reply is just as soft. “You’re welcome.”
Only later, after an oil change and a fan belt and a silent lunch in his dad’s office does his dad clear his throat and ask “What was that about, this morning?”
“Dave just needed to talk for a minute.”
“I didn’t realize the two of you were . . .”
“Friends, Dad. I think by now I can call him that.”
“Do you do that? Talk with him a lot?”
Kurt takes a deep breath, figures there’s nothing to hide, and says “We get together on Tuesdays. Have coffee. Play chess. It’s something to do.” He doesn’t add since everyone else is so busy and I feel like Blaine is disappearing. “He’s a good guy.”
His dad shakes his head, clears his throat again. “I’ll never understand how the kid who threatened to kill you, who slammed you into lockers and threw slushies in your face turns out to be a good guy. But I suppose, as long as you’re safe, it’s none of my business.”
That’s the closest his dad is going to get to being okay with him hanging out with Dave, so he smiles and takes it. But he can’t help thinking that it’s really nobody’s business.
*****
Tuesday afternoon, Dave sits across from Kurt and reaches into his backpack. “What I promised I’d show you,” he says, and laughs as Kurt rubs his hands together in excitement.
Like Kurt did two weeks ago, Dave fans the viewbooks out on the table. “San Francisco State, University of San Francisco, San Jose State University, and Berkeley. It’s my reach. But I can’t not apply.”
“What about Ohio State?”
Dave bites at the inside of his lower lip. The thought has been keeping him up at night. It’s the expected thing to do, apply like everyone else. He knows from Miss Pillsbury that he’d have no trouble getting one of the scholarships they give to in-state kids with good grades. But then he’d be settling. He’s decided to take that out of the equation.
“I’m not going to apply.” Kurt’s eyes go wide at his admission, but then a gentle hint of a smile turns up the corners of his mouth.
“Wow. I’m kind of . . . surprised.”
“Yeah. Me, too. But I think, if I apply and get in, I’ll feel obligated. So I’m going big. San Francisco or bust.”
“How does it feel?”
Dave blows a half-breath out from between his lips. “Exhilarating. Exciting. Terrifying.”
“And?”
Dave thinks for a moment. He knows what else it feels like. It’s the feeling he was looking for on that dance floor on Prom night, the feeling he had when he came out to his dad. Yesterday when he quit the team. Every Tuesday when he shares his secrets with Kurt. “It’s liberating,” he finally says. “It’s like I’m just letting go of every expectation that everyone else has for me. I never realized.”
“Realized what?” Kurt’s voice is hesitant, almost shy.
“How suffocating it is, letting everyone else tell you who you are and what you want. It’s almost as bad as being in the closet.”
“Yeah.”
Kurt goes quiet then, and Dave isn’t sure what prompts him to do it, but he reaches across the table and puts his hand on Kurt’s forearm before asking “Do you want to talk?”
*****
Dave’s hand is cool, and slightly damp from the icy condensation on the outside of his cup. Kurt doesn’t move away. Instead, he angles his body slightly away and stares out into the parking lot. He wants to talk. He’s spent so much of this summer listening to Dave, telling him the safe things. But he’s feeling lonely and alone in that way he hates, so he turns back to Dave and says “Can we go someplace else? Please?”
Dave looks surprised, but he removes his hand and gathers his viewbooks, takes a last sip of his coffee before nodding. “Of course. I take it you have someplace in mind?”
“Yeah.” Kurt does. It’s someplace he’s always wanted to take Blaine, but they haven’t seen each other in close to eight weeks and the calls and texts are getting shorter and less frequent. It feels sometimes like his relationship is spinning off in its own orbit and he can’t do anything to control it.
He drives out to the edge of town, to this kind of overlook with an absolutely stunning view of the southern hills. It’s his secret, a spot he discovered in the heady days after he got his driver’s license. He doesn’t tell Dave that this is where he used to come last fall to cry and rage over the hell of being tortured at school. That is over and done now. But it’s still a safe place. He pulls into the small parking area and motions for Dave to follow him. They both scamper up the slight rise of the hill and Kurt can hear Dave gasp behind him at the view.
They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Kurt is grateful that Dave just gives him time to collect his thoughts. He knows that when he finally starts talking, he’s not going to be able to stop.
“I think my relationship is over.” He’s been thinking it for a few weeks, but hasn’t said anything. Not even to Blaine.
“With Blaine?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s gone. He’s in Cincinnati, and he’s busy. And I’m here.”
“He’ll be back in two weeks.”
“I don’t think that matters. He doesn’t. Um. He doesn’t see me. Nobody does. They see parts of me, the parts they want to believe are all of me. I’m not just brave or strong. Smart or talented. The kid whose mom died. The gay kid.”
“You’re all of those things. And more.” He can’t look at Dave. He has to finish this, and if he looks at Dave he’s going to lose it.
“Thank you. But Blaine only sees Perfect Kurt. He never sees the hurt or the pain.”
“Or the sadness.”
“Yeah.” Dave is nothing but surprises today. Kurt briefly wonders what happened to hide this kind and insightful Dave from the world, but he knows before the thought is fully formed. It’s the same thing that makes him hide all of the things he loves about himself behind icy stares and outrageous clothes. Kurt gathers himself and finishes. “I hurt. Every day. Because . . .” He reaches out and takes a gamble, twines his fingers around Dave’s. “Because I’m suffocating, the same as you. And I don’t want to do it anymore.”
”So don’t.”
“I don’t follow.”
“To hell with them. All of them. You challenged me to chase my dream. So now I’m going to challenge you. Well. Both of us, really.”
“I think I should be vaguely afraid.” And there he goes again, deflecting hurt with humor.
“We have one year left. One year to be nothing but our true selves. It’s going to be hard, and it’s going to be scary. But think about how good it will feel.”
“How what will feel?”
“No more hiding.”
Oh. “No more hiding?”
“Yeah. If we want people to see who we really are, we have to show them. We have to be honest.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“I know. So we start small. What’s your biggest defense mechanism?”
Kurt rolls this thought over, thinks about the first time he walked into school acting like he was better than the other kids. He’d gotten a new jacket for his birthday, and it made him feel safe, like he was wearing armor. “My clothes.”
“Okay. So. If you could wear anything on the first day of school, what would it be?”
The answer is out of his mouth before his heart beats. “Worn jeans. Tight black t-shirt. Black Docs. Sunglasses.” It’s his kind-of fantasy, über-sexy in a simple way. What he imagines wearing out to a club in Boston or New York.
“So do it. Wear that the first day of school.”
Kurt nods, takes the bait. “And what are you going to do?”
Dave squeezes his hand, and Kurt can feel him trembling. When he finally speaks, his voice is shaking too.
“Me? Oh. You know. Go big or go home. I’m going to come out.”
The implications of that statement are huge, and Kurt isn’t sure if Dave realizes it. He doesn’t say anything, though, just keeps his hand tucked into Dave’s as they watch the sun drift towards the horizon.
*****
After, they start hanging out whenever they both have a free moment. Dave can feel it, the way they feed off each other’s bursts of courage. The way that they have become not only each other’s models but also each other’s mirrors. There are stolen moments, sometimes, when Dave wonders if the tender spark of brightness that catches but never flares between them could become something more. But he never pursues it because really, having Kurt as a genuine friend is a thousand times better than taking the chance and having it blow up. Dave can handle a little bit of “what if”, because he also knows that he’s nowhere near ready to be anyone’s boyfriend yet. So he swallows around the want that creeps up from time to time and takes the friendship that Kurt is offering.
The last week before school starts, Kurt bails on Tuesday coffee to drive out to Westerville to see Blaine. “I have to know,” he tells Dave, and Dave can’t tell if Kurt’s voice is crackly from a bad cell signal or from nerves and tears. He figures they’ll catch up the next day, and he goes home to work on his essay for San Francisco State, because his dad is working late and the house will be quiet. What he doesn’t expect is a call from Burt Hummel at 8 pm.
“Mr. Hummel.”
“David. Have you heard from Kurt today?”
“Earlier. He said he was going-”
“To see Blaine, I know. But he hasn’t called, and he isn’t home, and Blaine called here to check on Kurt, said he left Westerville hours ago. He’s not answering his cell.”
Dave’s already up, jamming his feet into his untied sneakers and grabbing his keys. “Give me half an hour. I know where he is. I’ll call you when I get there.”
He can feel the tension crackling over the open line. “Okay.” Dave knows Mr. Hummel is fighting to stay in control; Kurt’s told him how protective his dad is, but Dave didn’t need to be told. He’d seen it in hallways and Figgins’ office, and in the cautious way Mr. Hummel looks at him whenever he and Kurt are at the Hudson-Hummel house together. Dave takes a breath and knows exactly the right thing to say. “Let me go get him. And then I’ll bring him home. If today went like I think it did, I think he’s going to need you.”
When he finally replies, Mr. Hummel’s voice is barely a whisper. “Thank you, David.”
Kurt is right where Dave expected, curled into himself on the damp grass at the overlook. He doesn’t look as devastated at Dave had expected, just worn and sad and alone. Dave kneels down behind him, drops a hand to Kurt’s shoulder.
“Your dad is really worried.”
“I just couldn’t-”
“I know. Are you okay?”
“Actually, yes.” The face that he turns to Dave is ghostly pale in the darkness, but his eyes are clear. “Blaine met someone in Cincinnati. He just didn’t know how to tell me.”
“Shit, Kurt. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You know,” his laugh is bitter, “I think Blaine liked the idea of rescuing me. I was, after all, in a pretty bad spot when we met. But I don’t need rescuing now. I guess the novelty wore off.”
Dave’s voice is heavy with honesty. “You’re better than that. You deserve more than that, someone better than him.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, c’mon. I promised your dad I’d get you home safe. I don’t want to give him any more reason to hate me.” Dave stands, offers Kurt a hand, and pulls him to his feet.
“He doesn’t hate you.”
Dave is halfway back to his Jeep when Kurt’s footsteps close the distance between them. He’s half-surprised at Kurt’s arm grabbing his waist. They have self-imposed very strong physical boundaries to their friendship, so this move in decidedly unexpected but not entirely unwelcome. Kurt kind-of leans into him, and Dave wraps his own arm around Kurt’s shoulder. “Thank you,” Kurt whispers.
“No prob. That’s what friends are for, right?”
“Yeah.”
*****
Kurt gets up early on the first day of school. He dresses the way he’s planned, the way he told Dave he would. He’s out of the house early, too, to meet Dave at the Lima Bean before heading off to school. He thinks about the shirt, washed and folded neatly in his messenger bag. He can’t believe Dave is actually going to do this.
Kurt gets there first, orders his own iced mocha and cranberry orange muffin, and then adds Dave’s latté and a blueberry muffin and pays for it all. He figures it’s the least he can do, buy the guy a last breakfast before his world ends. When Dave finally comes up behind him as he’s waiting for their drinks, Kurt can feel the tension rising off his body. His voice is almost a growl.
“Do you have it?”
Kurt pulls the t-shirt out of his bag, and Dave practically runs to the men’s room. When he comes back out, Kurt can see the collar peeking out from under Dave’s hoodie. It’s a good plan, actually, because it lets Dave control things. Dave runs his eyes up and down, taking in Kurt’s jeans and shirt, boots, the thick leather belt he added at the last minute, and the slightly spiky mess of his hair.
“Dude. Very nice.”
“Stop cruising me, Dave.” Kurt laughs around the straw in his mocha, both surprised and pleased at how secure Dave has grown in himself over the course of the summer. “If you keep looking at me like that, you won’t need my shirt to tell anybody anything.”
He catches the barest hint of the blush creeping its way across Dave’s cheeks, but pretends that he doesn’t.
They linger as long as they can, and then Kurt follows Dave to school. They park in adjacent spots in the senior lot, and Kurt fights the urge to grab Dave’s hand and squeeze it. He knows how hard this day is going to be for Dave, and he knows he’ll be there for Dave after school. But the rest of it, the scary and hard part, that’s Dave’s to do alone. They walk, side by side, to the front entrance. Just before Kurt peels off to find the Glee kids he casually jostles Dave with his shoulder. He catches the way that Dave pushes back, grabbing the casual contact like a safety net, a last breath of air, a lifeline. Kurt looks him square in the eyes. His voice is strong. “Courage,” he tells Dave in the instant before the doors open and Dave is swallowed by a crowd. That’s when he hears a shriek and then Mercedes is on him, praising his shirt and his hair and wondering “what’s up with the new look?”
Kurt slips his sunglasses down over his eyes, and smiles half to himself.
“It was an interesting summer.”