Fic: Need You Now, 1/1
Title: Need You Now, 1/1
Author: knittycat99
Rating: R for language
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Kurt/Karofsky, with appearances by Burt and Dave's fictional mother and her family
Genre: friendship, angst
Spoilers: seasons 1 and 2 to be safe, but I've strayed a long way from canon
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Glee
Author Notes: As mentioned in the previous part, I'm taking enormous liberties with Dave's family situation because we never meet or hear about his mother. This is the seventh part of my Seasons Change Verse, which can be found HERE. If you're new to this verse, please read the other parts first. Also, I'm looking at definitely two more parts to this verse, but there might be three. It'll depend on whether the boys let me do things my way or insist on being difficult.
Summary: Confessions. Confrontations. And Dave goes to visit his mother for Christmas.
Word Count: 3,562
Kurt almost never misses a day of school, but he can’t stand the thought of sitting in class watching George C. Scott in A Christmas Carol on endless repeat when he can’t erase the feeling of Dave’s hands and lips, the heat of his body. Instead, Kurt manages to convince his dad that he’s getting sick. It’s not that hard, not when his eyes are red-rimmed and gritty from a sleepless night and his voice is hoarse with emotion. He sits at the kitchen table in the pre-dawn darkness, hands warm around a mug of tea, and listens to his dad call him in sick to school. Then he retreats to the sanctuary of his room where he falls asleep to the sounds of his family they all start their respective days. When he finally wakes up, it’s nearly afternoon and the house is quiet.
He needs to be anywhere but here. Well, anywhere but here and at school.
He hates the feeling like he’s crawling out of his skin. It’s foreign, anymore; something he hasn’t experienced since those first difficult days at Dalton when he felt like he was both oddly inside the rooms he’d been peering into his whole life and also shunted into the corners of those very same rooms.
He forgoes a shower, instead layering a black sweater over a Henley and his favorite black jeans. He dampens his hands and runs them through his hair, leaving it more mussed than he usually would. But it’s not like he’s going anywhere where people will care. He stuffs his wallet into his pocket, makes sure he has his iPod and cell phone, and heads downstairs for his coat and keys. And then he drives. At first it’s pretty aimless, but he isn’t surprised when his autopilot takes him to the overlook. It’s cold out, but he gets out of the car anyway and climbs up to the top of the hill. He stands on the hillside and lets his brain just run circles over Dave and the kiss and what he may or may not feel (or may or may not want to admit he feels).
The only hard conclusion he comes to is that the whole thing is a fucking mess.
Now that he’s been pressed, it’s easier to admit that his feelings for Dave have occasionally wandered across the “just friends” line and into the “I kind of like you that way” side of things. This Dave, his Dave, is a definite catch: he’s smart and funny and quiet and nice, and he has plans that don’t involve staying in Lima forever. But it still feels wrong, like its incestuous or something. He prides himself on being Dave’s mentor. He doesn’t want to ruin that relationship, or to drive away a friendship he’s really come to both enjoy and rely on. Besides, they both have so many other things going on right now. Adding a relationship into the mix now would be a bad move all around.
Kurt gets caught up as the jumbled thoughts just keep cycling through his head. He came here for clarity, but it’s proving elusive. He doesn’t even hear Dave until the other boy is behind him, pulling him close and whispering into his ear.
“You weren’t in school.”
Kurt doesn’t turn around. “Neither are you, apparently.”
Dave brushes the statement aside with a huff. “Finn said you were sick. You’re not sick.”
“Thanks for stating the obvious.”
“You’re avoiding me.”
“No.” I’m avoiding myself.
“I’m still not sorry. That I kissed you. Last night, I mean. I am about the locker room. I mean, I know we’ve never really talked about it, but I am sorry about that. It was wrong.”
The apology is too little too late, but Kurt accepts it anyway; they’ve only ever joked about that kiss, and Kurt doubts that there’s ever going to be a good time to talk seriously about it. They’ve come so far together since then, grown so much, that Kurt telling Dave exactly what he stole that day would only serve to hurt. So he takes the apology and turns his attention back to the fact that Dave is warm and solid and strong against him. He takes a deep breath and thinks that maybe talking without looking at Dave is going to be what gets this sorted out. When he finally speaks, his words sound harder than he meant them.
“I can’t be your boyfriend, Dave.”
“I know.”
“It’s not that I don’t . . . have feelings . . . for you. Because I think I might. I just-”
“I know, Kurt.” Dave’s breath as he talks tickles at the edge of Kurt’s ear, ruffles his hair. It feels more intimate than their current state of affairs deserves, and Kurt thinks about wrenching himself away. But he can’t. Dave’s tone when he continues is patient. “The timing is all wrong. I’m not even good for myself right now. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Thank you.” Kurt’s voice crackles to the point where he almost misses the afterthought that spills from Dave’s mouth: “You mean too much to me.”
That just about does Kurt in, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s turned around, hands grasping at the back of Dave’s neck and his mouth hard and hungry. He’s putting all of his emotions into the kiss, don’t you dare hurt me and I shouldn’t want this and underscoring everything else you matter to me, too.
When he (or was it Dave?) finally breaks away, he buries his face in the shoulder of Dave’s coat and shakes his head. “What was I thinking?”
Dave’s own laugh is shaky at best. “We have to stop doing that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Okay. I’m not. But you’re right, we do have to stop. Because as much as I’d like to jump in with both feet, I did that with Blaine. I’ve done that with every boy I’ve ever liked, gay or not, and I don’t want to do that here. Because your first boyfriend should be able to give you his heart and his soul, and I’m not that guy. Not right now.”
“So, even if we’re not dating, can we still kiss? ‘Cause that was fun.”
When Kurt looks up, he can see the half-teasing grin on Dave’s face, but he knows enough about Dave to know that there is seriousness behind his words. Kurt decides to take his cue from Dave and laughs outright. “No kissing. No friends with benefits shit. That only ends in things like Babygate and fistfights in the hallway and Rachel storming out of Glee. Again.” At Dave’s confused look, Kurt continues. “Look, we both know that the feelings are out there. We don’t want to hurt each other. So we have to agree that if things flare up, we need to talk about them. Please.”
Kurt feels Dave’s body stiffen slightly, and then he gives in. “Fine. We’ll talk.”
“Good.”
“Dude. It’s fucking freezing out here. Can we, like, go somewhere else?”
“My house?”
“I’ll follow you there.”
*****
It isn’t often that Dave is over at Kurt’s when nobody is home. The quiet is a little unnerving, mostly because it’s the quiet of a house that isn’t his. Kurt seems at ease in it, though, much like Dave would appear in his own house. He follows Kurt up to his room, and they both shed coats and shoes and their extra layers of sweaters and long-sleeved shirts in silence. Dave is tossing his sweatshirt into a pile with his coat when Kurt’s voice drifts over from the shelf of DVDs in the corner. “Did you sleep at all last night?”
Dave shakes his head before he realizes that Kurt isn’t looking at him. “Not really. A little bit.”
“Movie for watching or movie for sleeping?”
“Movie for watching.” Dave knows he’ll go home and crash later. And really, he doesn’t want the wrath of Burt Hummel if he’s found sleeping in Kurt’s bed in the middle of a weekday afternoon.
Dave watches as Kurt runs his finger along the cases, touching some and then moving back towards others. When he turns back to Dave, he has a boxed set of something in his hands and a crazy grin on his face. He holds the box out and asks “Have you ever seen this?”
“No.”
“Oh, good. Consider this the first part of your Great Gay Education. I mean, I wouldn’t be any kind of a friend if I sent you off to the big bad city without some kind of introduction to queer culture.”
“There’s a culture?”
“Well. Not really. I mean, nothing set in stone. But there are references, touchpoints. We’ll start with this. And I’ll let you borrow some books. History.”
Dave shoots Kurt a look that says really? You suck. He isn’t surprised, though, when Kurt keeps talking.
“Look. You know yourself now. That’s huge and important. But you also need to know our tribe. Because we are everywhere, and we are utterly fabulous. So. We start with this.” Dave settles back on Kurt’s bed, propped up on the twenty million pillows against the headboard, and watches Kurt slide the DVD into the player. Suddenly the room is full with a heavy backbeat, like club music, as shirtless men dancing flash across the screen. Then the action shifts and there are three guys standing at a bar. The voice-over is fast and funny. Dave gets hooked almost right away, mostly because the people seem real, like the kinds of guys he’d meet when he’s grown up and out of school and living somewhere. They’re not perfect. They’re just guys who are gay.
After the third episode, Kurt goes downstairs to make popcorn and get them sodas. Dave wanders over to Kurt’s DVD shelf and sees that there are four more seasons of the show; he knows what they’ll be spending winter weekends doing. Because now that he’s sucked in, he has to see how all the drama will end.
They spend the afternoon watching, Kurt’s head resting against Dave’s shoulder, and they only move when it’s starting to get dark and Kurt hears his dad’s car pull into the driveway. Dave sits up then, and rubs a hand across his face. He’s totally zoned, and he wishes he didn’t have to leave the cocoon of Kurt’s room for the cold outside. He’s got his shoes on his feet and is pulling his sweatshirt over his head when Mr. Hummel’s voice echoes up the stairs. “Boys, I’m home! That is your Jeep outside, right David?”
Dave waves a silent goodbye to Kurt; he’ll call or text later anyway, so he grabs his jacket and bounds down the stairs. Mr. Hummel is standing at the bottom, looking only mildly put out. Dave decides to head him off at the pass, and starts talking without really thinking.
“Hey, Mr. H. I was worried about Kurt because he wasn’t in school and Finn wasn’t sure what was going on. We were just watching a movie. I think he’s feeling better.”
He tries to move around to get to the door, but he startles as Mr. Hummel rests a hand on his arm.
“Come into the kitchen with me for a minute, will you?”
“Sure.” Oh, crap. This isn’t going to be good.
Mr. Hummel gestures for Dave to sit, which he does.
“What exactly are your intentions towards my son?”
Yeah. Not good. “Um. We’re just friends.”
“I saw how you were looking at him last night. That wasn’t a ‘just friends’ look.”
“You’re right, sir. It wasn’t. But I’m not in a place where it’s a good idea to do anything about that right now. And I would never hurt Kurt. So you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“I better not. I’m watching you, David.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now, go home.”
“Yes, sir.”
Well. That had gone better than Dave had expected. As he drove away, he couldn’t help thinking about the poor guy ten years down the line who decided that he wanted to marry Kurt Hummel.
*****
Kurt’s wrapped up in his blankets with the TV on mute when his dad knocks on the door.
“Hey, kid. You feeling better?”
“Yeah, Dad.”
He’s surprised when his dad comes over and sits on the edge of his bed. “What’s up with you and Dave?”
“Nothing.” Kurt so doesn’t want to have this conversation right now.
“That’s what he said, too. I was just checking.”
“Dad, you didn’t-”
“I did. He loves you, y’know.”
“No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what he feels.” Neither do I.
“What about you? What do you feel?”
“Honestly?”
“Please.” His dad sounds weary. Whether it’s from dealing with customers at the garage or from teen drama, Kurt isn’t sure.
“I don’t know what I feel. I kind of like him, but neither of us are good to go in a relationship right now. So we’re just friends. Of the no-benefits kind, before you freak out.”
“So I don’t have to worry about him being over here if I’m not home? With your door closed?”
“No. Dad. No worries. I just . . . thank you. For letting us have the door closed. Sometimes . . .”
“I get it. Sometimes you guys just need privacy. To talk or whatever.”
Kurt’s kind of surprised that his dad knows about those days, the multiple-slushie, angry slur, hate-filled stare kinds of days that can break a kid down. Those days when he and Dave shut themselves in Kurt’s room and hide out for a couple of hours. But then again, his dad knows Kurt.
“Thanks, Dad. For everything.” For loving me, and being proud of me, and for protecting me.
“Always. Hey, Carole’s working late and Finn is going to Rachel’s for dinner. You want to order takeout and watch TV with me? If you’re feeling up for it?”
Kurt smiles. “I’d like that a lot. Can we get Chinese?”
“Of course. C’mon down, you can call it in while I get cleaned up.”
*****
Dave goes to Chicago for Christmas, because his mother calls on the Friday that school gets out for break and practically begs him. And because his dad thinks it will be good for him. Dave’s pretty sure it’s actually going to suck. He’s bummed because he and Kurt had plans to spend a chunk of break watching as much Queer as Folk as they can get away with. But whatever. He’ll deal. He always does. And he’s going to Chicago, which means that he might be able to find the perfect Christmas gift for Kurt.
It’s been close to three years since he’s been out to see his mom. It’s not something he likes to do, mostly because she walked out on him and his dad but also kind of because she married that jackass Richard. He can tell his mom loves the guy, but he doesn’t treat her right. He’s hands off with Skylar and Kylie, leaving them to Dave’s mom. The first night, over dinner, Richard looks at Dave and rolls his eyes over their little-girl giggles. Later, when Dave lies with them on the living room floor coloring pages he’s carefully torn out of a Dora the Explorer coloring book, Richard tells him strongly “You don’t have to do that. Leave it for your mom. Why don’t you come in the other room with me and we can watch the Bulls?”
“No thanks. I’m fine here. And I don’t like basketball.”
“You don’t like basketball. Your mom said you joined the Glee Club. Are you going soft?” Dave watches as Richard waggles his hand. There are so many things he wants to say, but nothing that’s appropriate to blurt out in front of the pre-school set. He pushes himself to his feet, careful not to step on any crayons, and crosses to where Richard is standing. He hisses his reply, moving well into Richard’s personal space and using his upraised pointer finger for emphasis.
“What does it matter to you if I am? You’re not my father. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk that way around the girls. They’re young and impressionable, and they deserve to learn better than that.”
“They deserve better than to have a half-brother who’s a f-”
“Not here. Don’t you get it at all? Not. In front. Of the girls. If you and I are going to have this conversation, we’re having it in private. But I’m not having it with you before I have it with my mother.” Dave turns and walks away, but before he gets too far he mutters half under his breath. “Asshole.” He doesn’t see his mother leaning against the frame of the kitchen door, dish towel in her hand and eyes wide.
She comes to the office/guest room later, when he’s tucked into the fold-out couch with a thick mystery his dad got him for the trip. He moved aside so she has space to sit.
“I heard you talking to Richard earlier. Your dad mentioned a couple of times that you’ve had some troubles, and lots of stuff going on.”
“Yeah.” He has no idea how to even talk with his mother. They only talk on the phone on holidays and birthdays, but they do email from time to time. He decides that it’s best to just do it. She hardly knows him anyway. What can it hurt? “It’s been a long year. I got in a bit of trouble last fall, bullying this kid at my school. But I’ve changed a lot. It was just a hard time. I’m. Um. Mom.”
She’s looking at him like she already knows. Maybe she does. “I’m gay.”
“I thought when I head you and Richard that it might be something like that.”
“I’ll talk with him, but you need to know that if he’s going to talk about me that way, I can’t stay here. I get that every day at school. I don’t deserve it someplace that’s supposed to be safe.”
“No, David. I’ll talk to him.” She smiles at him then, kind of sad but strong at the same time. “I know you think he treats me badly. And I know you’re mad at me for leaving. But you have to understand that I couldn’t stay where I wasn’t happy. It had nothing to do with you, or even your dad. It had to do with what I ultimately wanted for my life. Even with you and your dad, I still wasn’t going to find it in Lima.” Dave does understand, so he keeps listening. “You’re my son. I love you. And I’m proud of you. I’ll take care of Richard.”
“The girls. Don’t let them hear him talk like that. So many kids at my school, they learn that hate from their parents.” His voice is soft. He thinks about how lucky Kurt has been, to have his dad supporting him. He thinks about how far his own dad has come in this journey, and how it all seems to matter so little to his mother.
“I know, baby.” Her hand is gentle against his own, where he’s holding his place in his book with his finger. “I’ll teach them right. They adore you, you know. I wish you got to spend more time with them. Maybe this summer? Richard has some business trips planned. Maybe you could come down for a week or two while he’s gone?”
His mom is shrewd. Dave is silently pleased that she sees not only how he feels about Richard, but also how Richard feels about him.
“I think I’d like that. Did dad tell you about my college plans?”
“No. I think he wanted you to tell me. Would you like to? Tell me?”
He would, so he does. He tells her the things he doesn’t always tell his dad, about Kurt and challenges and bravery, about Berkeley and being in love with a city built on words. He stumbles over trying to tell her how happy he is that she’s just accepting him, which makes her cry. He tells her that he’s sorry for being distant. The hardest admission is the last one: “You left me. I thought you didn’t love me.”
He’s gotten used to casual hugs from Carole when he’s visiting Kurt, but the feeling of his own mom’s arms around him is different. It’s love and hurt and acceptance and anger all wrapped up together, and it’s all his. As is her penance, her whispered mantra of you’re my son. I love you more than life. Dave knows he has his own penance to do, his own whispered apologies to offer over the coming days. He knows that he can’t undo his past distance, but he can start to make up for it. Maybe coming here was a good idea. Maybe it’s a beginning.
When he’s talked out, and his mother is clearly cried out, she ruffles his hair before she turns and leaves the room. She stops and the door, though, and tells him “I’m glad you game, David.”
“I’m glad too.” He can’t call her Mom yet. But he’ll work on it. It’s nothing new. It’s been a working on things kind of year.