Fic: I'd Rather Hurt, 1/1
Title: I'd Rather Hurt, 1/1
Author: knittycat99
Rating: soft R for mild language and homophobic slurs
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Karofsky
Genre: gen, friendship
Spoilers: all of seasons 1 and 2, but we're pretty far from canon here
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of it's characters
Author Notes: Fifth in what I'm now calling my Seasons Change Verse. The previous parts (Much too High a Cost, Watch me Fly, These Broken Wings, and the two parts of Boys of Summer) can be found HERE. I'm making assumptions here with regards to Dave's family structure as we've only ever met his dad. I'm also taking liberties with the current state of the college admissions process. I know it's mostly done online these days, but I think there's something about the old way, the joy of mailing out the applications and the whole "thick vs. thin" acceptance letter thing. So humor me. Roll with that process as it plays out over the next couple of installments.
Summary: The repercussions of Dave borrowing Kurt's "Born This Way" shirt, scenes from a Hudson-Hummel family dinner, and Dave has a request.
Word Count: 3,991
Dave initially thinks about waiting until lunch to make the big reveal, but then he fidgets all the way through Homeroom, so he decides that he needs to do it sooner rather than later. When the bell rings, when he has his schedule folded and tucked in his back pocket (away from the prying eyes who would be startled to see that in addition to his community college statistics class, Dave is also taking Honors level English, History, and Spanish, and AP Physics. And an addition he’d made last week that he hadn’t even told Kurt about: Glee), he heads to his locker. Unzips his hoodie, shrugs it off and hangs it up. And turns to the crowded halls of McKinley High, his biggest secret stretched in black block letters across his chest for all to see: Likes Boys. He takes a deep breath and forges forward.
After English, Azimio corners him in a stairwell, face twisted with rage.
“What the fuck, man. What kind of a joke is this?” Clearly, word had gotten around.
Dave levels his voice. “It’s not a joke, Z.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m serious.”
“How long have you been a . . . a . . . shit, Karofsky.”
“How long have I been a queer, right?” Dave has to talk himself down. Check his rage. He’s not that guy, not this year.
“Yeah.”
“Probably forever.”
“You sure Hummel didn’t put you up to this? I hear you’ve gotten friendly over the summer.”
“Shut. Up. It’s not fucking like that. He’s a friend. A better friend than you’ve ever been, if I’m being honest.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet. Defending your boyfriend.” Azimio’s voice is dripping with what Dave now knows is a dangerous combination of fear and hate. It’s the tone that used to make Dave fear that Azimio could see into his soul, the tone that turned his own fear outward to target Kurt. Dave hates that voice. And then he realizes that he’s cornered. Literally, back against the corner, looking not only into Azimio’s twisted face but also at the students milling past on the stairs like Dave is invisible. He’s staring to panic; he’s never been here before. He can feel his breath shallowing out, the knot in his stomach. He grits his teeth and thinks about running until he feels a familiar presence honing in on this little corner of Dave’s private Hell.
Kurt.
Calm as can be, thank you very much, and pissed off. His voice is acid. “What is going on?”
Azimio turns, and Dave takes the moment to suck in a deep breath. He only half-hears Azimio’s reply, but he thinks it’s along the lines of “what do you care, faggot?” He’s about to push off the wall and do something with the rage simmering under his skin when he notices that Kurt has taken advantage and snuck around Azimio and into the corner with him. Kurt’s fingers are gentle against his own, and his voice is lowered so that only Dave can hear: “Relax. I’ve got this.”
In the span of a half-breath, Kurt stands up and fills himself with righteous anger, which automatically pitches his voice down half an octave, and his words are thorns.
“Why does it matter? Are you threatened? Wondering what it says about you that your alleged best friend is ‘one of those fags’? Let me break it to you. It’s not about you. It’s not about what you believe is right or wrong. It’s not about breaking somebody else so that you can feel better about yourself. It’s about someone’s life. So just get the fuck over yourself and either support your friend or walk out of his life right now.”
Dave can’t help but hold his breath and wait. In a tiny corner of his brain, he’s half-hoping that Azimio will stay, will support him. Will be the kind of friend he’s always wanted. The kind of friend Kurt is turning out to be says the muted voice in his head. But he isn’t surprised when Azimio turns and lets himself be swept away on the tide of kids racing to class. Dave also isn’t surprised to find that the abandonment doesn’t even hurt.
In the moment after, Kurt nudges him with his shoulder. Safe, friendly contact Dave thinks as Kurt offers “Walk you to lunch?”
“Yeah.” His voice is jittery, but his nerves have calmed.
“You’re probably not going to want to eat, but trust me. You’ll need the food to counter the adrenaline, or else you’ll be more jittery than usual for the rest of the afternoon.”
Dave nods mutely as they reach the cafeteria, and then he’s struck by an entirely new fear. He has no place to sit. Kurt must be peeking into his brain, because his voice is gentle against the loud chaos of the room. “I talked to some of the kids, and you can sit with us at the Glee table.”
“Uh. OK.” He can’t say thank you because he isn’t sure he means it. But it’ll probably be better than he thinks.
It turns out to be pretty easy. The only grilling he gets is from Berry, who clearly hadn’t been in the loop. When she sees him wearing Kurt’s shirt, her eyes go wide and her appraisal is keen. She holds him in her gaze as he sets his tray down, tucks his backpack under the table, and scoots his chair in. When he finally meets her eyes, she nods at him.
“It’s not a joke.” Her words are not a question.
“No.” His reply is soft. “It’s not.”
“Okay.”
The rest of the kids are subdued, but none of them are actively hostile. He knows he doesn’t deserve any of what they are offering; he didn’t just hurt Kurt when he was so lost and angry. He’s hurt every one of them. Last year’s apology had been met with varying degrees of acceptance, but he thinks that maybe now he’ll really be able to show them how sorry he is. He’s thinking about the best thing to say when Kurt is talking at him again, his tone low and oddly private for such a public space.
“Glee, Dave?”
“I was going to tell you. But I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Mr. Schue grabbed me and asked me this morning if I’d be okay with it. I guess he didn’t want to let you in if we were going to have issues. Apparently he’s well out of the gossip loop. Worse than Rachel.” He rolls his eyes, attempts to lighten the mood at the table. Dave has a sudden moment of fear that Kurt won’t want him infringing on Glee, so he starts to speak.
“I don’t have to, if-”
“Dave. Stop. I saw how much you loved doing “Thriller”. Finn said you were really good. There’s a place for you in Glee, if you want it.”
“I do. If the rest of them will have me.”
“They will. Especially after today.” Kurt nods to the shirt. “How are you?”
“Honestly?” At Kurt’s nod, Dave continues. “I’m numb. And more than a little scared. Z isn’t going to be the last angry person I’m going to meet.”
“True. But with Glee you get the Noah Puckerman Secret Service.”
“That’s a good thing?”
“Not always. But he means well, and it’s protection. And I’ve got your back. We’ll get you through this.”
Dave barely feels reassured, but he nods anyway and turns his attention to his slice of mystery meat and ball of gluey mashed potatoes. He fucking hates cafeteria food.
*****
The end of the day can’t come soon enough. When the bell rings after Glee, Dave hightails it out of school. He gets to leave early every day because of his community college math class, which only meets two afternoons a week, but Figgins doesn’t seem to notice (or if he does, he doesn’t care at all). He zips his hoodie up as he walks to his Jeep, tosses his backpack into the passenger seat before climbing up into the driver’s side, and thankfully (blissfully) shuts the door on the world. He takes a moment, resting his forehead against the warmth of the steering wheel, to breathe. He tries not to cry. He’s wondering what to do with his afternoon, thinking absently that it’s Tuesday and wondering if Kurt still wants to meet for coffee, when his phone beeps.
You’re done for the day?
Kurt. Of course. Dave’s hands shake as he types out his reply.
Yup. You?
His dad would kill him for texting and driving, so Dave turns the key and at least gets a cool blast of air conditioning while he waits. Sure enough, his phone is soon chiming.
I wish. I’m in Calculus Hell. I might need a tutor. Coffee as usual?
Dave smiles to himself, and types back.
Yes.
He shifts into drive and guns it out of the parking lot. One day down, 179 to go.
*****
Kurt is doesn’t think he’s ever had so much homework in his life, but that’s only part of the reason why he’s distracted at the Hudson-Hummel dinner table on Friday night. He can’t stop thinking about Dave, about how he and Puck have been taking turns walking the other boy to his classes every day. About spending the better part of study hall two days in a row in the second floor boy’s room rinsing grape slushie out of Dave’s hair and then talking to him in a calm voice until he stopped shaking. He’s pushing his spaghetti around his plate with his fork when he realizes the table has fallen silent. He looks up, and finds his dad and Carole looking him with concern.
“What?” He’s clearly missed something.
“Just wondering what your plans are for tonight.” His dad must not be too worried, because his voice is relaxed.
“Oh. Homework. I’m really not sure what I was thinking, all those AP’s. And Calculus may just kill me.”
Finn, oblivious as always, looks up from his salad bowl, an unruly cherry tomato finally speared into submission and halfway to his mouth. “You should ask Karofsky to help you. Isn’t he taking some kind of college math? Dude’s better at math than Artie.”
“Thank you, Finn.”
Kurt’s dad clears his throat, levels Kurt with a gaze and asks “What’s up with that, anyway? I mean, you’re friends now?”
Kurt barely gets out a nod before Finn jumps in, mumbling around a mouthful of lettuce. “He’s in Glee, too. And dude!” Finn swings his head to look at Kurt. “What’s with you, walking him to class and stuff?”
Kurt can’t believe that Finn is really that clueless. He knows he’s going to get a scolding for language from his dad when he nearly screams in frustration. “I’m walking him to class to make sure that he doesn’t get his ass kicked in an empty hallway.”
His dad and Carole look puzzled, and Carole finally speaks. “Okay, the adults are missing something. What’s going on?”
Kurt sets his fork down and swallows before speaking. “Dave came out to the entire school on Tuesday. Needless to say, his announcement is being met with a startling lack of enthusiasm. Worse than mine, if that’s even possible. I mean,” he pauses to think out the rest of his words, “at least my friends stood by me. I think I might be his only friend right now.”
Burt jumps on Kurt’s reveal. “I haven’t talked with Paul this week. I wonder if he knows?”
Kurt shakes his head, and feels a little weird talking about the Karofsky men this way. He knows things about them that he’s pretty sure his dad doesn’t, and he needs to be careful about betraying Dave’s confidences. “Dave said he’s been working late a lot, some big case that’s going to trial really soon. I don’t think he’s had a chance to talk to him yet.” His dad catches his eye and nods; Kurt’s glad his unspoken message of don’t say anything got through clearly. He finishes his thought. “I’m kind of surprised it isn’t all over town by now, anyway. I mean, football jock comes out isn’t your usual first day of school occurrence.”
“Is he okay?” Carole’s concern is genuine. Kurt knows she’s come to quietly like Dave in the time he’s spent at the house, and he knows why: the Dave who’s become Kurt’s friend is polite and quiet and subtly funny. Nothing like the hard, angry boy who drove Kurt to Dalton. He thinks she might feel a little sad for him, what with his mom gone to Chicago and settled in with the stepfather Dave can’t stand and the two half-siblings he secretly loves to pieces but never sees because of the stepfather. And that Kurt only knows because he was late coming home from work one afternoon and stumbled upon Carole and Dave talking over cookies at the kitchen table.
“He’s managing. Which is far from okay. But he’s still getting out of bed and going to school. And he hasn’t shut down yet, so there’s hope.”
“Good. You tell him he’s always welcome here.”
Kurt smiles at Carole, feels a sudden surge of love in his chest, and half-wonders if Carole realizes that between him and his dad, Puck, and now Dave, she’s gathered herself quite a collection of stray boys.
After the meal, after Finn has cleared the table and headed off to the movies with Rachel and Kurt is ensconced at the sink doing the dishes, his dad joins him in the kitchen.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay with everything that’s going on.”
“With Dave?” Kurt keeps his head down as he transfers plates and silverware to the dishwasher.
“Yeah. I mean, I’m glad you’re there for him and all, but I want to make sure that you’re all right.”
“I am, Dad.” The odd thing was, Kurt hadn’t known until right that moment that he really was all right. “You know, it’s funny. I started hanging out with him because I felt bad. He was having such a hard time.” Like I was last year when I met Blaine. “And the more time we spend together, the more I realize how alike we are. I think . . .” He pauses to gather his thoughts under the pretense of running hot water into the spaghetti pot. “I think he might be the best friend I’ve ever had. We just kind of get each other. And if I can be there for him, help him with the kids at school. Well. I’m kind of helping myself, too. You know.” He turns and looks at his dad. “Taking on the bullies in a way I wasn’t equipped to do last year.”
His dad’s face is wide open, and when he speaks his voice is choked with love and what Kurt thinks might be pride. “You amaze me, kiddo. You have no idea. Just. Please. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I always do.”
“I know.”
Kurt doesn’t have time to dry his hands before his dad has him wraps him up in a bone-crushing hug; he doesn’t even seem to notice the soap suds dripping down his back.
*****
The better part of Kurt’s fall passes in a haze of homework, college applications, and extra Glee rehearsals (because they are all determined to rank higher than 12th at Nationals in the spring). The days fall into a predictable routine: weekdays are school, Glee, and coffee/tutoring with Dave; weekends are mornings at the garage and then marathon sessions of homework. For the first time in his life, Kurt feels like he’s a part of things rather than standing outside of them. It’s an odd feeling, sometimes, but he’s getting used to it.
The last Friday in October, he’s in his room working on a paper for his English class when there’s a knock on his door. He hasn’t even answered when it opens and Dave is there looking smug and self-confident in black jeans and a black t-shirt, what looks like a crumpled flier in his outstretched hand.
“What are you doing here? We didn’t have plans tonight.”
Dave laughs nervously. “We didn’t. Now we do. We’re going dancing.”
*****
Dave snatched the flier off the bulletin board in the student center at the community college last week and stuffed it into his backpack, and then promptly forgot about it until this afternoon, when he found it wadded up between his Physics book and that stupid Steinbeck novel he was slogging through for English. It was for an under-21 club halfway between Lima and Dayton, no charge on Friday nights. Not explicitly gay. Dave had known right away that if anyone would be game to go, it would be Kurt. And he really needed to do something tonight. He drops the flier on the edge of Kurt’s bed.
“My week sucked. I really need to blow off some steam. It’s not gay, but it might be fun anyway.” He takes in Kurt’s worn t-shirt and flannel pants, the way his hair is sticking up on one side like he’s been resting his head against it, the open notebook and spine-cracked copy of Native Son next to Kurt’s laptop amid a mess of blankets and pillows on his bed. “Crap. I’m sorry. You’re busy. I’ll just-”
“No. Wait.” Kurt sits up. “It’s a good idea. But it’s already after 8. What time does this thing start?”
“10. If we leave by 9, we can be there when it opens. It’s Friday night. We can dance till midnight and still be home in time for curfew at 1.”
Kurt smiles at him. “In two weeks, I won’t have to worry about curfew.”
Dave mentally curses his January birthday; Kurt’s hitting 18 first. That’s really going to suck.
“Your dad won’t care?”
“No. He had to go down to Columbus for depositions or something. He’s staying the night.” I think he’s avoiding me is what Dave really wants to say, because the late work hours and weekend trips to Columbus for work have become more of a regular thing especially in the weeks since Dave came out at school. He knows that’s just his dad’s way of dealing with shit, giving it time and distance until his brain catches up with his heart. He’s pretty sure that by Christmas things will be back to normal, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t sting in the meantime.
Kurt heaves a sigh and launches himself off his bed. “Fine. We’ll go. But I’m driving, and if you don’t want to be alone tonight you can stay here.”
“Your parents won’t mind?” He says that because it makes Kurt smile, because he can see the way Kurt and Carole care for each other. More like a mother and a son than the way Dave’s own mother treats him.
“No. Give me 10 minutes to get dressed.”
“Great. Wear your first day of school outfit. You’ll have guys falling all over themselves to dance with you.” He catches the way Kurt looks him over before nodding in approval.
“You’re not so bad yourself, Karofsky.”
*****
The club is a small place just off the interstate. Kurt is surprised at how full the parking lot is, given that it’s barely 10 pm. When he gets out of the car, he can feel the bass line pulsing in his feet and he instinctively starts bouncing. He’s never really been out dancing before, and he’s nervously excited. He grabs Dave’s hand and practically drags him across the dirt parking lot to the door. They have to show id to get in, and they’re each given a purple star stamp, “if you go out for any reason” the girl at the door says.
The dance floor is crowded with a pretty solid mix of guys and girls. Kurt finds a tiny pocket of space near the middle and pulls Dave into it with him; he closes his eyes for an instant and breathes in the music before throwing his arms up and starting to dance. It’s the way he moves when he’s alone in his bedroom, plugged into his headphones so the thumping of his dance mixes don’t annoy the rest of the house. He always tells himself that he’s practicing so he won’t look like a fool when he gets to the big city of his dreams, but he knows now that he was always practicing for this moment, for the thrill of his first club and the pulsing of the crowd and the muted strobe throwing odd shadows across his pale skin. It doesn’t matter that the club is in the boonies of Western Ohio instead of New York City, or that it’s probably mostly full of straight kids rather than bursting with gay men. It’s a bare taste of something powerful, something more. Something free. Kurt takes it in, and then lets it go. In that instant, he is free. And it feels amazing.
*****
Dave watches as Kurt dances, and he feels like he’s seeing Kurt for the first time. Like all of the coffee and chess games and dares and challenges have led them right here to this moment. And then Dave knows what Kurt is feeling because he can feel it too, like they are both too big and too much for this time and place. That they have places to go and men to grow up to be. And that they’re not going to do any of it here in this town. They are getting out, and this night, this club, these moments are just a taste of it. He can’t help but feed off the energy Kurt is radiating. Dave stops for a moment, feels the warm press of bodies around him, lets the beating of his heart sync with the beat of the music. And then he takes a breath and loses himself in the brilliant high of dancing like he has nothing to lose.
*****
They go back, every Friday night that they can, to dance off the stresses of school and friends and home and Glee. The rest of the guys are all still busy with football, but sometimes they will approach Tina or Brittany about going with; they always get turned down, and Kurt can’t help but wonder if the Glee girls are engaged in some secret plot to make he and Dave into a couple. They dance to celebrate Glee’s knockout win at Sectionals (a clear victory over Dalton, and Kurt can’t help feeling bad about the way he ignored Blaine backstage), they dance in recognition of Kurt’s 18th birthday, and they dance the day after Thanksgiving to celebrate the first real conversation Dave has had with his father since coming out at school. And on the first Friday of December, they dance in relief that their first completed college applications are in the mail, early decision for both he and Dave, to Yale and Berkeley respectively. That night as they share Kurt’s bed (because Dave’s dad is out of town again), Dave wonders aloud at how different his life is now than it was a year ago. Kurt thinks back to this time last year, pining over Blaine and feeling like he was being smothered in cotton oxford and navy wool. This is better. So much better. Kurt says so in a whisper.
“Thanks for being my friend.” Dave’s own voice is also a whisper, tinged at the edges with fatigue and shame. “I don’t deserve you.”
Kurt’s heart leaps into his throat. “Oh, Dave. You deserve everything.”
He’s not surprised when Dave reaches across the span of mattress between them and takes his hand. Kurt squeezes gently before falling into a deep sleep. When he wakes up the next morning, Dave is gone.