Title: Ivory & Gold
Characters/Pairings: Dave Karofsky, Kurt Hummel, Karofsky/Kurt
Summary: We are not who we were in high school, but that doesn't always change anything. An AU in which Dave never came back to WMHS after being expelled.
Response to this prompt on glee_kink_meme,
After Dave returns to his house he plays some more XBOX. When his parents come home and ask him what he's been up to he replies with a grunted, "Nothing" and feels like he's fifteen again.
He goes out to dinner with them and then after he packs up he gets a ride to the airport and flies back to school.
Two weeks go by and Dave doesn't hear anything, it's a little disappointing, but after the fourth day he stopped constantly checking his phone to see if he had somehow not noticed a call coming through and he moves on. Sort of. Well, he tells himself to anyway.
It is during the middle of a Super Mario Smash Brothers tournament with the team when his phone starts buzzing wildly on the coffee table with the 419 area code associated with Lima lighting up the small screen. He jumps off the couch letting his controller fall to the ground. He'd been doing the best in his bracket and pretty sure he could win the hundred dollar prize.
"Yeah," some of the team are staring at him. Others are still focused on the fight on the screen.
"Do you want us to pause or-…" one of the other players asks and Dave waves his free hand in a noncommittal manner before bringing it up to his ear to block out some of the noise.
"Uh, yeah. I guessed."
"Do you want to-" Dave can't hear him over the sound of his teammates screaming about the match.
"Wait one second, sorry- GUYS. SHUT THE FUCK UP."
Dave continues, "Um, sorry, what did you say?"
"Am I interrupting you?"
"No, not at all."
"GET SOME KAROFSKY,"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, CLYDE. Sorry, what was that again?"
"Do you want to get coffee with me?"
"Yeah, no. Yeah, I'd love to. That'd be great uum. When? When would you want to do that?"
"I'm at rehearsals right now-"
"WOOO! DAVE AND WHATSHIS FACE SITTING IN A TREE F-U-C-K-I-"
"Yeah," Dave responds, "Importance of Being Earnest. I remember." And then he pulls the phone away from his face to scream, "GOD DAMN IT CLYDE. SHUT UP."
"Right," Kurt drawls back, "so I have rehearsals starting at five most days."
"Usually we finish up around nine, kind of late for coffee."
"I don't mind," Dave replies a little too eagerly as he moves out of the room and sprints up the stairs to his room, "I have practice from three to five and classes most weekdays and games on Saturdays… I could meet you today, if you want. I mean, after your rehearsal is over." Dave pinches the bridge of his nose and is certain he sounds like some sort of stalker.
"Sounded like you were with people," Kurt replies smoothly and Dave can't determine if there is any sort of emotion behind that or not.
"Oh, just some teammates. We were playing video games. It's lame, really." He has to step over piles of clothing, his and his roommate's, to be able to pace the room.
"Right," Kurt drags out the word a few syllables past what is normal and pauses before he continues, "I'm free after nine if you want to go out for drinks."
"Sounds good," Dave answers and feels like an idiot. Couldn't he think of anything better to say?
Kurt gives him the address and Dave writes it down on the back of a notecard that also has the dates of the reign of King Louis XIV scribbled on it. After he hangs up he checks the time on his cellphone and realizes he has another two and a half hours before he needs to meet him and decides to get ready now anyway.
Dave comes back downstairs a while later, showered and changed. His spot is now filled on the good couch, but the futon has a spot between the goalie and Dave's roommate, so he comes up behind and climbs over the back of the furniture to take a seat.
"Dude," his roommate tells him sincerely as he places a hand firmly on Dave's shoulder, "you died."
"Yeah," Dave responds dryly and watches the final showdown of the tournament.
The rather shy left forward, Sean, ends up winning the tournament by barely beating out Clyde, which Dave is entirely okay with.
Dave is dressed pretty well, or at least he likes to think he's dressed pretty well (which means he's wearing something more than workout pants and a t-shirt) and the team picks up on it almost instantly.
"Gonna go meet your boooyfriend?" Clyde asks drawling out the last word well past the normal syllable threshold.
"Shut up you fucking ginger," Dave bites, which is a little ridiculous because Dave still isn't sure when it became an insult to be redheaded and freckled, but that's the insult the team throws at Clyde most often.
"Oh man, he is!" Someone else shouts, and the guys are all grinning and punching him in the shoulder. Some are making obscene gestures while other ones are just kind of smirking.
"He's not my boyfriend," Dave snaps back defensively. And with the flush coming over his face he starts to feel a bit bad about joining in with the team in mocking Sean a week ago for having a crush on some chick in his psychology section.
"But you want him to be," Dave's roommate pipes up, which is a bad move on his part because tomorrow morning one half of all his sock pairs will be missing.
"You guys suck," he growls back as he stands up and starts making his way out of the livingroom but it's halfhearted at best because this is, well, it's his family. It's like twenty-something obnoxious brothers and cousins who just want to embarrass the shit out of him whenever possible.
Before he can finish making his way out of the room Clyde stops him by placing a hand on his shoulder, Dave turns his head back to look at him.
"Dave," Clyde begins seriously, giving Dave's shoulder a little squeeze with his freckled hand, "get some. Make us proud."
"I am going to straight-up murder all of you in your sleep," Dave replies and manages to deliver the line entirely straight-faced with only the slightly lift of his eyebrows giving him away. The team responds by laughing and starting up a game of Call of Duty, but Dave is smirking a bit as he makes his way out of the house.
Dave walks to the address Kurt gave him because he doesn't feel like calling a cab and because if he did he'd show up way too early. As it turns out, he still shows up about ten minutes before he needs to and instead of standing outside in the snow he moves inside the building.
A door to the theater greets Dave as he moves in. It's wide open and Dave can hear voices coming through it. He can't stop himself from wandering over and watching from the doorway and he is instantly reminded of the embarrassing amount of times he stood near the choir room after school just to catch a hint of Kurt's voice drifting through the empty hallways.
It looks like they're working on the blocking for a scene that Dave can't place off of the top of his head even though some of the lines they're reading from their scripts sound really really familiar. The tech crew is scurrying around in all black adjusting parts of the set. Dave doesn't want to interfere so he moves over a few seats and makes himself comfortable in the back row. They seem to be working on setting some of the lighting because the intensity keeps shifting. About twenty seconds later he hears. A window behind him has opened and a guy with what Dave presumes is an ironic mustache shoves his head through the small window.
"This is a closed rehearsal."
Dave tries not to smirk when he's reminded of the door guard in the Wizard of Oz. Nobody gets in to see the Wizard. Not nobody. Not no how.
"I'm just waiting for my friend," Dave replies in a hushed tone because he really doesn't want to make a big deal about this. In fact he'll get up and move back quietly to the lobby area, but before he can offer the the guy is already yelling across the large theater to the stage.
"HEY," he calls out, "HEY. SANDY! Is this yours?"
A brown-haired girl shakes her head and replies with quick, "Nope."
"Brittany? What about you? He yours?" the other girl shakes her head without even looking up from her script.
Dave feels like they've moved the spotlight on to him and he shrinks down in to his chair.
"I can just wait outside-" Dave begins to offer, but the mustachioed light tech continues.
"Bryce, is this yours?"
A guy with slicked back brown gives him a once-over before replying with a flippant, "No."
"Kurt? He yours?"
"Yes," Kurt replies after an awkwardly long pause, "he's mine."
"Alright," the tech replies before slamming close the window and presumably getting back to real work.
Dave offers up a half-smile and a lazy wave, but he's far enough away from the stage that Kurt's face is a little blurry and he's glad about that. He pulls up his phone and pretends that there is something there to keep him occupied, but after fifteen minutes he gets bored and looks up. They're still working on the same scene they were when he walked in, but now the other guy keeps resting his hand on Kurt's shoulder whenever possible and sitting closer to him than necessary. Dave is pretty sure that adds absolutely nothing to the actual story.
He looks down to his phone and texts his roommate to ask him how Call of Duty is going and quickly gets in to a text conversation about which weapon is better and which storyline out of all the COD games was best. Time passes much quicker that way.
"Karofsky!" Kurt calls out and Dave lifts his head instantly to see him standing on the stage, lit up by the adjusted lighting and looking absolutely flawless.
"Yeah?" Dave replies turning his phone off and shoving it into the front pocket of his jeans, still sitting in the seat.
"Yeah, sure, if you are." Dave stands up and pulls his phone out of his front pocket and moves to slide it in to his back pocket but decides instead it'd be better to put it in his coat pocket so he doesn't have to worry about sitting down on it. He slides his hands in to his pocket after that and moves down the aisles closer toward the stage.
Kurt grabs a coat from off of the onstage couch and slides it on. The guy with the slicked back hair comes over and gives Kurt a hug that last a bit longer than a normal friendly hug between to friends should. The fact the guy is looking directly into Dave's face while he does it probably doesn't help his case.
Dave bites his lower lip as he distinctly remembers seeing that guy before. At the bar. With Kurt.
"That your boyfriend or something, Kurt?" Dave ask once they're outside and clearly out of ear shot. He raises an eyebrow and his jaw hurts when he clenches it. He presses his tongue to the back of his teeth. His hands, still shoved in the pockets of his coat, form fists.
"Bryce? No, we hung out for a while but nothing really happened."
"But you wanted it to, right?"
"I don't know," Kurt replies, his voice sounding a little sharp, "maybe."
"Is that why you went home with me? The first nigh?t" Kurt doesn't doesn't say anything either way, doesn't even deem that worthy of a verbal response, and it kind of, well he doesn't want to sound cliche, but it kind of breaks Dave's heart.
It's the reason, Dave is certain of it. And even though it is, Dave still follows Kurt home because Dave can't help himself, not around Kurt. So, he does just that, follows Kurt back to his apartment which is decorated in a way that looks like a real house instead of like a dorm room or a frat, like Dave's place does. The furniture doesn't look brand new, but it also doesn't look like they pulled it off of the street corner. It looks like they've thought carefully about what matches and decorated accordingly.
Kurt offers to take Dave's coat, and when Dave begins to protest a bit, because he's wearing his hockey sweatshirt underneath the jacket over his nice shirt , Kurt gives him a look and Dave instantly does what he's told. He pulls off his jacket which Kurt hangs up on an actual coat hanger instead of tossing it on the back of a chair.
"I like the pictures," Dave mentions indicating a series of prints in gold-frames hung on one of the walls which is painted a deep, rich red.
"One of my roommates is an art history major. Would you like something to drink?"
"Yeah, a beer I guess." Kurt ducks into what Dave assumes must be the kitchen and he is left alone in the room. He starts to look more closely at the prints and tries to figure out if he knows the names of any of them. There's the one of a Roman lady that Dave recognizes as some style during the occupation of Egypt, but he can't remember the name of it. It was some sort of death painting though- they kind the made on the walls of tombs, and there was something about wax? Like it was mixed with the pigment maybe? Not that he can really remember the details.
He shifts on to the next one. And it's a naked blond woman lounged on a bed. It's some representation of Venus, Dave knows that much. Not De Milo that's the statue, but he isn't positive which one. Van Gogh's Starry Night, even Dave isn't uncultured enough to not recognize that one. And next to that one is one by the weird Spanish guy, Dali, The Hallucinogenic Bullfighter? Something like that.
"If you turn your head right and stare long enough the image shifts and you can see either the toreador or all of the separate images it's composed of: of the Venus de Milos and the flies," it's not Kurt's voice speaking to him, but it sounds friendly enough so Dave doesn't bother to turn around just yet, "and you can make out a dalmatian in the bottom left corner made from the rocks."
"Kinda like those little 3D posters we used to get as kids, huh?" Dave offers with a small smirk closing one eye and moving his head to the right and then to the left.
"Well, yes," the voice agrees reluctantly, "but y'know, painted by hand, about thirteen feet by ten. And like a thousand times more interesting and complex."
"It was a joke. A bad one. Dave Karofsky," he offers turning away from the image of the painting and extending a hand, "I'm a friend of Kurt's."
"Arthur" he replies, "and yes I've heard enough 'Art' Arthur art historian jokes to last me a lifetime, so don't start."
"Um, okay..." Dave replies awkwardly, "wasn't really planning on it."
"It was a joke," Arthur continues, "a bad one."
Dave can't help but a smirk a bit as the other man takes his hand and shakes it. The guy is a good four inches shorter than Dave is and possibly even thinner than Kurt. His skin is a little tanner and Dave never really good at guessing ethnicities so he isn't even able to try and place it other than 'something not-white.'
"You guys have a really nice place," Dave offers once he's dropped the other man's hand and has no idea what to say.
"Thanks, we try. Kris-Krishna, that is- and his girlfriend, Sam, brought in a lot of nice furniture. And Kurt decorated, of course."
"I basically live in a frat house. With twelve other hockey players."
"You play hockey?"
"Yeah. Defenseman, for-"
"-I noticed your sweatshirt. Must say, impressive." The guy bites his lower lip and raises an eyebrow.
"Oh, yeah." Dave rubs at the back of his neck with the palm of his hand and laughs.
"Karofsky, you coming?" Kurt's voice cuts through the moment and pulls Dave's attention away.
"Yeah, of course. Um, nice to meet you," Dave indicates with a sharp nod of his head as he scurries after the other man.
When they enter Kurt's room it becomes clear to Dave that Kurt doesn't have a roommate in the same sense that Dave does, there's a single bed and no indication the room is shared. Apartment-mate is probably a weird thing to say in a normal conversation.
Kurt places the beer that Dave assumes must have been for him, still unopened, on his desk and begins to unbutton his shirt. Dave is still standing near the doorway and licks his bottom lip.
"Um, what are you?" Dave starts and trails off as more and more of Kurt's skin becomes visible.
"Oh, come on," Kurt replies with an eyebrow as he drops his shirt off revealing his pale flesh, "let's not pretend this is more than it is." Dave nods and strides across the room to capture Kurt's mouth with his.
The next morning, when Dave wakes Kurt is fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed.
"We probably shouldn't do this again." Kurt states and Dave nods in feigned agreement before he grabs his stuff, dresses, and heads out. He buys himself a coffee on the walk back and sends a nod to a girl wearing a sparkly sequined dress and holding heels in her hand. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun that was clearly perfectly coifed curls the night before. What a way to kick off a Friday.
"You sleep with a jackass too?" Dave asks, leaning against the lamp post when they get stopped at the next light. She looks up at him shock clearly on her face. Shock and a hint of what Dave assumes is regret or shame.
"Sorry, that came out wrong. Do you want my coffee?" She eyes him suspiciously for a second before she takes it. They don't say anything else as they make their way back to their respective houses and part about six blocks down the street.
When he arrives back at the house everyone is still asleep and Dave is grateful for that. He takes a quick shower and collapses in bed and sleeps well into the afternoon. His roommate has to wake him for practice.
He and Kurt clearly agreed it shouldn't happen again, but it does. It happens again two nights later, and then again and again straight on through winter break back in Lima where Dave sucks off Kurt in the backseat of Kurt's fancy black car and Kurt sneaks Dave in through the window into his basement room at four in the morning.
And it just keeps happening as they come back for spring semester until one morning Dave is awakened by his pants being flung in his face. He scrambles up and rubs at his eyes, still a good two thirds asleep.
"Get out," Kurt states flatly arms crossed over his chest. He's fully dressed and standing near the edge of the bed. This isn't too different than the other mornings, except this time Dave doesn't do what he's told.
He doesn't move, doesn't say anything, just blinks in response.
"Get out," Kurt says again rolling his eyes with a dramatic sigh as emphasis, like really, Dave is so dumb he has to say it again just so the neanderthal will understand him.
"Why are you still here?" Kurt spits out viciously arms thrown up in the air.
It takes a second for him to respond but when he tries his throat is dry and his voice cracks a bit, "I'll write in my diary tonight, a burnt child loves the fire."
"Dave Karofsky, in my bed half-naked and quoting Wilde," Kurt remarks drolly, "teenage me never could have seen this coming."
"Teenage me used to fantasize about this," Dave responds, "well, with less Wilde and less clothes."
"David-" Kurt sighs.
"I like it when you say my name," Dave interrupts and then Kurt raises an eyebrow and looks like he is about to say something snarky, so Dave clarifies, "In that, I like you acknowledging me as an actual person. Not in a kinky way." Though he did kind of dig it in the kinky way too, but that was beside the point.
Dave swung his legs out from under the covers and over the edge of the bed. He grabbed his pants from next to him and began to slide on his jeans.
"Get breakfast with me?" Dave asks as he stands up and buttons his pants. He finds the belt he used to tie up Kurt's hand to the headboard last night and slides it through his belt loops.
Kurt rolls his eyes and sighs, "Didn't you say you had practice this morning?"
"I'll skip it," Dave replies a little too quickly, "if you want to hang out. It's not a big deal."
Kurt looks back blankly in response.
"Look," Dave begins hovering near the doorway between Kurt's room and the living room. His voice drops down a bit in pitch, "either stop having sex with me or go see a damn movie with me or something. This is really getting old."
Kurt gives him a look (the one with the hand on the hip, the raised eyebrows and the slightly tilted head) before he closes his bedroom door in Dave's face without a word; it takes everything for him to not slam his fist against the door.
Instead he walks to the T-station and and hops on the train that will take him to campus so he can still make it to practice on time; it's the off season so it's just conditioning. When a kid quite clearly accidentally bumps into him while he exits the train David glares when he usually would have smiled.
He ends up being ten minutes late to practice, but they're just running laps around the field so the team is still stretching when he shows up in his shorts and team t-shirt. He joins the circle and tries to laugh at the stupid jokes they make and tries to join in about teasing Sean about how he's finally going to ask out the girl he's liked for a semester and a half.
When they start running Dave is grateful for the quiet and isolation, which of course means it doesn't last.
"'Sup, Davey?" Clyde asks through panted breaths as he falls into pace with Dave.
"Don't call me that," he replies dispassionately; he's focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and attempting to block out everything else.
"Well isn't someone in a prissy little mood. Who pissed in your Fruity Pebbles this morning?"
"I don't eat cereal. Or was that a gay joke?"
"Christ, Davey, it's just an expression."
"Well, it's a dumb one."
"Well, your face is a dumb one," Clyde counters.
Dave doesn't even dignify that with a response.
"What the hell is wrong with you today? You're acting like a dick." Clyde slows down for a second to spit on the grass near the track center and keep running.
"Dude, just back off."
"Is this about your boyfriend?"
"Not now, dude. Don't start."
"Come on, Davey. What's the matter? Did you two fight over whether to paint your little cottage in Vermont purple or mauve or eggplant?"
"Shut up," he growls and lowers his head slightly and increases his pace to lose the redhead behind him. Instead the other man speeds up to match his pace.
"Or was it eggshell, sand, or off-white?"
"Fuck off, Ginger. I'm not in the mood."
"You're not saying he's not your boyfriend. Did someone finally make an honest man of you, Davey?"
And in quick moment Dave shoves his shoulder against Clyde's body and knocks the man on the ground.
Dave feels an odd sense of accomplishment as he watches him take a tumble on to the grass.
"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?" Clyde calls out and Dave slows his pace, turns and walks over to where Clyde is sitting.
"Well, what's the matter Clyde? Why are you in such a bad mood?"
Clyde punches Dave really hard in the leg and shouts out "DUDE! Don't be a dick."
"Fuck," Dave hisses and jumps back from where Clyde is still sitting and rubs at what he's sure is a new bruise.
"Look, whatever you're upset about, I'm sorry but don't take it out on me."
"I told you to fuck off like three times-" Dave replies
"Five, actually." Clyde replies, brushing blades off grass off his freckled legs, "I get it man, you got dumped. I'm sorry it sucks, but it happens. Stop being a jackass."
Dave sighs, and offers a hand to Clyde to help him up.
"You can't get dumped if you were never dating."
"Oh, I'm sorry man." Clyde takes his hand and Dave pulls him up. There is a clover in Clyde's red hair and it makes Dave finally smile as he plucks it out and flicks it in Clyde's face.
"You look like a fucking leprechaun, dude."
"Fuck you, Davey."
"We cool?" Dave ask.
Clyde punches him really hard in the shoulder, then nods and says, "Yeah, we're cool."
The coach comes over to ask what the hell is going on and then calls them girls and tells them to stop having a tea party and get back to running. The rest of the practice isn't so awful.
Two days later Kurt calls him and Dave lets it almost go to voice mail but he answers it instead.
"Hey," Dave begins cautiously.
"Karofsky," Kurt responds sounding as unaffected as ever, there is music and chatting in the background he's out somewhere, at a bar or a restaurant "coming over tonight?"
"You agreeing to go on a real date with me?"
Kurt laughs, a delicate pretty laugh that could cut diamonds, "Don't be ridiculous."
"Okay." Dave ends the call and turns off his phone. He tosses it on his bed and goes to take a shower. After that he dresses and heads downstairs. His roommate is over at his girlfriend's house and it feels a little lonely up there by himself.
But downstairs there are four of the guys camped out in front of the TV watching really badly dubbed kung fu movies. He heads to the kitchen before he settles in with them, and returns with two bags of popcorn before taking a seat on the edge of the good couch.
"Thanks, Davey," Sean replies automatically digging his hand into the bag. It's eleven thirty on a Friday night and Dave is actually totally okay with where he is. They go through another two movies and three bags of popcorn. It isn't until one o'clock that their movie gets disturbed with a loud banging on the house door.
"Who forgot their keys?" Dave asks with a heavy sigh as he moves to answer it.
"I got it," Sean stands up and moves to the door which he unlocks and opens. A flash of blue rushes past him and straight through the living room. Dave stands up uncertainly and a second later Kurt is standing in front of him poking him in the chest with a finger.
"You're ignoring my calls!"
"Well, you didn't answer your phone!" Kurt shoves his finger against his chest again.
"Did you get angry and try and spite drink at me or something?" He raises an eyebrow and Kurt's eyebrows furrow and his mouth screws up in concentration. He bites his bottom lip and pulls it between his teeth.
"No! Yes. Maybe. I don't know! Fuck you David."
"David, there," he replies shoving his hands into the backpockets of his jeans because he doesn't know what else to do with them, "I like that. Sounds like a real couple. A nice normal couple."
"Me and you could never be a nice normal couple."
"You and I," Dave corrects automatically, "I think we could. Stranger things have happened." The other guys are staring at him looking a little confused so Dave coaxes Kurt upstairs to his bedroom. "How did you even get here?" Dave asks when Kurt misses a step and stumbles. Dave catches him underneath his armpits and helps him back up again.
"I took a cab," Kurt mumbles.
"You going to puke?"
"No," he indignantly replies.
"You puked on Miss Pillsbury's shoes. Remember that?"
"Fuck you, I was sixteen." Kurt stumbles a bit so Dave sets him down on his bed and kneels down next to him. He slides off his boots and places them on the ground.
"Are we going to have sex?" Kurt asks.
"Yep, sure." Dave replies idly as he begins to unbutton Kurt's shirt which becomes more difficult when Kurt grabs Dave's hair and tugs at a curl.
"I like your hair longer," he slurs, "Curls look good."
"Thanks," says as he pushes Kurt's hands away and finishes pulling off Kurt's fancy designer shirt and then his expensive pants, which are a bit more difficult because of how tight they are. He folds them both and places them on his desk. He locks the door to his room, kicks off his jeans, flicks off the light and slides into bed.
"Thought you said we're going to have sex," Kurt slurs, "I was looking forward to it. You're good in bed. I want to have sex."
"Yeah, in a minute just close your eyes." It only takes a minute for Kurt's breathing to slow and grow heavy and he's lightly snoring a few minutes later.
Dave falls asleep with Kurt curled on his chest and when he wakes up early the next morning he goes downstairs and grabs a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers which he brings back upstairs. Placing them on the nightstand he settles back in to bed with a book.
When Kurt wakes four chapters later Dave hands him the glass of water and offers him the painkillers.
"Thanks," he replies primly trying to surreptitiously wipe away some droll from the side of his mouth.
"You gonna get breakfast with me?"
Dave smiles and Kurt narrows his eyes, but the hint of a grin is tugging at the edges of his lips.