The Kurtofsky IM Sessions (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kurtofsky_ims) wrote2011-01-13 03:57 pm
kurtofsky_ims) wrote2011-01-13 03:57 pm
Entry tags:
TTP Bonus Ficlet 001: The Rematch.
For
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dlgr, the sweetest girl in the entirety of the Kurtofsky fandom.By Magz & Tess · AU until otherwise indicated
"YES. Take that, bitch. Shirt. Off. None of that shoes-and-socks shit, you cheating fuck."
"I wish you’d stop calling me that. I am cuh-cla-clearly a cunt... Clearly." Kurt pulled his shirt off.
They both took another shot.
"I just don’t get how you keep beating me!" He complained, voice going weirdly higher with each word until he was practically squeaking.
Dave just stared, eyes moving over the smaller boy’s neck... his chest... his hips. Fuuuuck. His hips.
"Hey, Fancy...?"
"Yeah...?"
Before Dave could say anything, though, Kurt was bolting from Dave’s room. A second later, Dave heard him throwing up in the toilet.
He limped slowly after Kurt, caught between concern and amusement. When he got to the bathroom, Dave sat down on the floor next to his half-naked friend, automatically reaching over to rub his back as he retched.
"Let it out, bro..." he snorted.
"Don’t call me that, either." Kurt moaned, voice echoing miserably off the inside of the toilet bowl.
--
Two weeks later, Kurt stomped into Dave's bedroom, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and declared, "I demand a rematch. And this time, I provide the booze."
"What, you think I did something to it so you'd lose? That's retarded, bro." Dave's brow arched slowly as he spoke.
"No, I think I can't drink bourbon," Kurt replied, setting down his bag and pulling out a bottle of rum. "This will stay down better."
"Oh." Well that made sense, he guessed. "Well that makes sense, I guess." Dave shrugged, getting off the bed.
"And I get to use The Fury," Kurt announced, snagging the white guitar controller before Dave could get to it. "I even bought a special strap for it." He reached into his bag again and revealed a black strap patterned with flames and skulls.
Dave was about to protest -- until he saw the strap. "Dude, you didn't have to get me that." He grinned.
"I didn't. I got me that," Kurt said, detaching the old, plain black strap and attaching the new one. "To use while I'm here," he clarified. "I already have one for my controller at home."
Dave just played along like he believed his friend and shrugged, "Yeah, whatever, bro. That hurts." He thumped his chest. "Right here." Dave picked up his spare guitar.
"Same rules apply as before," Kurt said, slipping the strap of the controller around his neck. "A shot after every song, loser of every song takes off a garment. If he loses by more than 20,000 points, it's got to be something that covers more than shoes, socks, hat, or scarves do." He eyed Dave for a moment. "But since you're bigger than me, I think I need a two shot handicap."
"A handicap? Oh, you suck, dude," Dave sighed. "But fine, whatever His Majesty requires." He dug the shot glasses out from the back of one of his dresser drawers. "But, for the record, I should get the handicap. You're wearing like ten million things."
"Fine," Kurt huffed, taking off his coat. "But I'm only wearing 'like, ten million things,' because otherwise I'd be naked before you lost your shirt." He took off his hat, too, and set it aside, but kept the scarf.
Dave stared at the other boy for a moment, stuck on "naked." Then he nodded. "Well, yeah. Got me there," he replied, handing over one of the plastic shot glasses.
Kurt took the shot glass and set it on the dresser on his side. Then he turned on the Xbox and the TV. "Drink up," he urged, gesturing at the rum bottle. "Or drink your bourbon if it makes you feel more manly." He grinned at Dave.
Dave rolled his eyes -- then poured a shot from Kurt's alcohol and downed it, then took his second. He made a slight face, then set the glass down. "Happy?"
"Ecstatic," Kurt deadpanned. And he was, sort of. Until Dave beat him soundly on "Carry On Wayward Son." "Does alcohol make you better at this game?" he groused, taking off his sweater.
"Li'l bit." Dave grinned, pretending not to watch as Kurt pulled off his sweater.
Kurt picked up the controller again, then poured a shot of rum and tossed it back. "Pick a song," he said, a determined look on his face. There was no way he’d lose two in a row.
Dave took his shot, then began scrolling through the songs. He stopped on "Date With the Night" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," Kurt replied, getting his hands into position. The song started, and he hit every single note. "This isn't so bad," he said when they were two minutes in. "Kind of repetitive -- holy crap." And his perfect score was destroyed by a run. "You. How did you hit all of those?"
Dave just grinned. "Dude. I love this band." He took his fourth shot, getting it out of the way.
Kurt huffed, unwrapping his scarf and draping it over the back of Dave's desk chair. "I think you're cheating somehow." He poured another shot of rum and picked up the shot glass. "Here's hoping I beat you at least once before I'm so drunk that I can't stand anymore," he said, taking the shot.
"How am I cheating? You even have the guitar I'm more comfortable with." He smirked slightly. "Maybe I'm just better than you, Fancy."
"I refuse to believe that," Kurt replied primly. He selected 'Pinball Wizard' from the track list and, after a glance in Dave's direction to make sure he was ready, he hit the start button on his guitar.
... and was beaten again.
Dave cast a sidelong look in the other boy's direction and grinned. "Now, don't feel bad too bad, Princess. I only beat you a little."
"A little?!" Kurt squawked, setting the controller aside to start unbuttoning his vest. "You beat me by almost 100,000 points. I didn't think that was possible." He folded the vest carefully, set it on the chair, and poured another shot. "To your victory," he muttered, raising the shot glass in Dave's general direction.
"Damn straight!" Dave took his shot, then took a step back, stumbling only the slightest bit. "Pick again." He teased. "I like it when you pick."
"You just want to wipe the floor with me again," Kurt said, narrowing his eyes at Dave. "We'll see about that." He picked up his controller again and stepped back, eyes on the screen again. This time, he went for Gaga. And when she started to sing, so did he.
"Ugh, you suck dude," Dave muttered, as if they didn't both know he'd started listening to her. Sort of. Occasionally.
"You're just jealous because you don't know the steps," Kurt replied, launching into the chorus and dancing as the song continued. His coordination was somewhat... lacking and he stumbled a few times, but righted himself each time and kept going.
"Knock it off; you're gonna trip and I can't drive you to the ER if you hurt yourself." Dave missed a couple of notes, but recovered easily.
"Fine," Kurt pouted, toning down the moves. "'I don't wanna be frieeeends,'" he belted, his fingers dancing over the controller buttons. "Santana did that part really well in glee."
Dave had never actually said it before, but he liked it when Kurt sang -- scratch that. He'd never said it before until then. "... said that out loud, didn't I?"
"Yup," Kurt said. He tried not to let his smug embarrassment show too strongly on his face. "Thank you, David." He sang the chorus one last time, grinning.
When the song ended, Dave just shrugged. "No prob, Fancy -- but I still beat you."
"But it was Gaga," Kurt said, eyes wide with disbelief. He put the guitar down again, nearly losing his balance as he bent down, but flailing his arms a little to regain it.
Dave snorted. "Need help?" Then realized how creepy that sounded. "Um. Not... I didn't mean it like that."
"I think I'm capable of taking off my shirt by myself," Kurt said, tossing back his fourth shot. He set the shot glass carefully and deliberately down on the top of the dresser, then tugged his shirt out of his waistband and slipped his suspenders off his shoulders.
Dave couldn't help it. Just like the last time, his eyes stayed trained on Kurt's torso as he started taking his shirt off. He took a shot to cover the fact, but was pretty sure it didn't help much, if at all.
Kurt slipped the shirt off his shoulders, folding it like he had the vest, and set it down on top of the other garment. Then he pulled his suspenders back up and, after a moment's contemplation, grabbed his fedora and put it back on. "Heh," he said. "I'm the Master of Ceremonies."
Part of Dave wished he didn't get the reference, but his mom'd made him watch Cabaret with her like ten times, so he totally did. Mostly he was just wishing he could stop staring and-- "... what -- when the fuck did you get your nipple pierced?"
"What?" Kurt asked, blinking up at Dave. "Oh!" He looked down at his left nipple, brushing a thumb against the tiny stainless steel barbell. "Mercedes and Tina sort of dared me. And I liked it, so I went to a piercing parlor with Carole and got a better piece of hardware for it. It’s still really tender." He grinned. "I think it looks sexy."
"Yeah, it d--" Dave cut himself off. Then took his shot. Then realized he'd already done that. "Shit. I'm up an extra one."
"I can fix that!" Kurt exclaimed. He poured another shot. "Cheers!" he said, taking it. He set the glass back down on the dresser. "Let's do another song!"
Dave laughed, glad that Kurt either hadn't noticed what he'd sort of said, or decided to pretend he hadn't. "Thanks. You're a friend." He nodded toward the TV. "Wanna pick again?" he offered.
"Oh no. I know your strategy now," Kurt said, pointing at Dave. "You let me pick, so I get into the song and don't concentrate as hard. You pick this time."
Dave grinned. "Uh-oh. I've been found out." He laughed, flipping through the songs until he landed on one by Rush. "Okay, ready?" He asked, even though he really wasn't. They hadn't even started, and already Dave's eyes kept sliding back over to his friend. This... wasn't going to end well.
"Yes!" Kurt crowed. "Finally my pride is restored!" He took a sixth shot of rum and then did a little victory dance. "In your face, David Karofsky -- whoa!" He flailed and toppled toward Dave.
Dave caught him, one arm hooking around Kurt's waist as he pushed his guitar back and out of the way. He wouldn't have if he hadn't already been staring like (admittedly) a total creeper. "Okay?" He muttered, trying hard (so fucking hard) not to look at the other boy.
"Yeah," Kurt replied. "I'm good. Thanks for not letting me break my face." He patted Dave on the chest and stepped back. "I thiiiink... I'm tipsy," he admitted.
When Kurt moved away, Dave remembered to breathe. "No -- no problem. Oh." Right. He'd lost. Dave pulled his t-shirt off and, rather than fold it as Kurt had done, tossed it onto the arm of his computer chair.
"Huh," Kurt muttered, watching Dave with wide eyes.
"... what?" Fuck. Why the fuck had he thrown his shirt? Now he couldn't put it back on. Fuck.
"You're," Kurt began, swallowing convulsively as he stared at Dave's chest. "Um." He blinked, his lips parted as if to say something.
There was really no tactful way to do it. Dave knew that. So he just did it. He set his guitar down on the bed, then crossed the few steps over to the computer chair to grab his shirt off the arm, and pulled it back on.
"Wait, I didn't -- " Kurt said, frowning as Dave smoothed the shirt down his chest. "I'm sorry. You startled me. I didn't think you'd be so..."
"So what?" Dave snapped. He wanted to just leave --but it was his fucking house and that would just look stupid.
Kurt looked at Dave, and down at his tee shirt. "So hot, okay? I didn't think you'd be so hot. But if you're just going to get snappish and jump to conclusions -- "
His words got stuck in his throat, oddly reminiscent of That Time. The thing they were supposedly both over. Dave obviously wasn't. Finally, he seemed to find himself. Enough, at least, to fucking say something.
"Well what am I supposed to think?" It didn't come out the way he'd intended. His voice was too quiet. Too fucking embarrassed. Too... fuck. Fucking goddamn it why couldn't he be sober for this?
Kurt slid Dave's guitar controller to the side and sat down on the bed. "I would've hoped that it wouldn't be about things I said out of spite, a long time ago," he said quietly, looking down at his hands.
Dave didn't know what to do. He stared at Kurt, then at the floor when he realized that was a really shitty idea. When he looked at Kurt all he wanted to do was...
Something he'd already completely fucked up once. "Um. Sorry," he muttered. That probably wasn't right, but he couldn't think of anything better.
The apology was so similar to the one Dave had first given him, months ago, that Kurt couldn't help it. He giggled. "I think this is where I huff at you and storm off," he said with a grin.
Dave laughed quietly. Took a step toward Kurt. Instantly regretted it. Changed his mind. "Um... wanna keep...?" He motioned toward the TV.
Kurt shook his head and stood up. He set the guitar down, then began approaching Dave slowly. "Tell me I have the wrong idea," he said, his eyes on Dave's as he got closer. "Tell me you don't want this, and I won't..." He stopped a hand's breadth away, craning his neck just slightly to maintain eye contact. His hand extended carefully upwards, toward Dave's cheek.
Dave froze. What the fuck was going on?
What the fuck was going on?
He couldn't get himself to move, but it was probably for the best. Dave was afraid that, if he did, he'd wind up fucking it all up just like the last time.
But he also didn't say no. Because he did want it. More than anything.
So Kurt leaned up, cupped his cheek gently, and kissed him with softly parted lips.
Dave felt like his heart had stuttered to a complete stop. It took him a second, but he managed to kiss Kurt back. Right, this time. Like he fucking deserved. He leaned in, putting his weight of his good leg, hands moving to the small of the other boy's back. His fingers took hold of the junction where Kurt's suspenders met in the back.
Kurt's other hand moved to rest on Dave's arm, his fingertips brushing against his tee shirt. They stood there for long moments, kissing slowly, until the need to breathe overwhelmed the need to continue the contact. Then Kurt leaned his head back slightly and blinked his eyes open, smiling up at Dave. "Take your shirt back off," he said. "Then I'll kick your ass again."
"Um... What?" Not his brightest comment, sure, but Dave just... wasn't exactly sure how Kurt had meant that. Either way, though, he found himself pulling away just enough to tug his shirt up and back off.
"At Guitar Hero," Kurt said. He watched as Dave's shirt landed on the floor. "Or we could just..." he murmured, his eyes back on Dave's chest.
Dave watched Kurt's gaze drop. He figured he probably should've been embarrassed that just a look got him hard, but he was seventeen, so... really he was just wishing he'd worn jeans.
"Up to you," Kurt said with a smile. He walked over to the dresser and poured another shot, knocking it back. "Want another?" he asked, holding out the bottle.
Dave just nodded stupidly, and -- awesome. Now he just wished he still had his shirt on so he could tuck his erection into the waistband of his basketball shorts. As it was he was stuck, standing in the middle of his room with a huge boner. Like a fucking jackass.
Kurt poured Dave a shot, set the bottle down on the dresser, and held the glass out. "Here you go," he said. He tilted his hat and walked back over to Dave, holding the glass up to his lips.
Dave could do this. He could fucking do this. Preferably without looking like a fucking retard in the process.
Well. There went that plan. To his credit, Dave handled it relatively gracefully when more of the shot got on him than in him. Well -- gracefully for him, anyway.
"Whoops," Kurt said with a grin. Then he leaned in and, with a delicately pointed tongue, licked up the trails of rum that were trickling down Dave's chin and neck.
"Fuck, Fancy..." Dave groaned, rough and low. When Kurt reached his chin he ducked his head, breaking the trail his tongue was making. He couldn't fucking do it anymore. Restrain himself. Wait. Dave kissed him insistently, hands sliding into the other boy's hair and knocking his hat off in the process.
"Mmm, " Kurt murmured between kisses. "You -- taste -- like -- rum." He licked into Dave’s mouth, their tongues meeting and swirling together. Kurt shuffled in a few short steps until they were pressed together from belly to knee, one hand situating itself on the small of Dave’s back and the fingers of the other flexing for a moment before dancing around the waistband of Dave’s basketball shorts. "Oh my god," he gasped, his hand curving over Dave’s hard-on. "You weren’t lying."
Maybe it was the alcohol, but Dave was having a hard time... processing this. He just -- what the fuck? Was this actually happening? Or had he accidentally eaten something else Rossman'd given him, and was now hallucinating?
Fuck it. Either way, he was gonna make the most of it.
When Kurt touched him, he gasped quietly. He couldn't help it. He ground into the other boy's touch, hands moving to grasp him by the hips as he started steering Kurt across the room, towards his bed. It was a little awkward, his limp making the short trip less smooth than it would've been... before, but (somehow) it didn't bother him so much as he thought it might.
When the backs of his legs connected with the side of the mattress, Kurt gasped and pulled away. "Wait, wait -- " he murmured, peering up into Dave’s eyes. "Wait, I, um." He put a hand on Dave’s chest, preventing him from leaning in for another kiss. "I’m sorry if I’m not very good. This is my first time." He blushed and looked away.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Dave grinned to cover the nervousness, "I mean, I know my moonlighting as a porn star is intimidating, but it's cool. I promise."
Kurt couldn’t help it. He let out a laugh that was halfway between a giggle and a snort. "You’re funny," he snickered before wrapping his arms around Dave’s neck and dragging him down into a kiss. It deepened quickly, and he moaned against Dave’s mouth, his fingers twisting into the short curls at the base of Dave’s skull.
Dave grinned against the other boy's mouth, putting his hands on his shoulders to gently guide him down. He put his good knee on the bed, leaning over Kurt. He hesitated. "Um. Y'know, we don't have to... do anything."
"Oh," Kurt replied, settling down on the bed on his back and looking up at Dave, his pink lips shiny and slightly parted and his eyes wide. "Um. Don’t you want to?" He made an aborted move to reach for Dave.
Dave nodded slightly, trying (and failing) not to, y'know, molest Kurt with his eyes. Yeah. Failed at doing that hard. "I -- well yeah. But I just meant, you know... I dunno."
Kurt sat up so he was leaning against his elbows. "Well, what if we just -- " he made a familiar gesture. "You know. Each other? Because I have to tell you, there’s no way that -- " he gestured at Dave’s crotch, " -- is going inside me without at least an hour of foreplay beforehand. The cowboy walk really wouldn’t suit me."
Dave's eyes glazed over a little at the idea of an hour of foreplay. It took him a second to pick apart Kurt's words and put them back together so that his mind could process them. "'Kay -- yeah, 'kay, that works." Not... his most coherent statement, but it'd do.
He leaned down, kissing Kurt again as he reached up to start pulling the other boy's suspenders down since he had no clue how to actually take them off.
"Here, just -- " Kurt murmured into the kiss, slipping his arms out of the suspenders, "just leave them clipped on. It’ll make putting them on again later a little easier." Once his arms were free, he pulled Dave down on top of him and hooked a leg around the back of Dave’s good knee. "Oh god," he gasped as their fabric-covered groins slotted together. He cupped the back of Dave’s head and leaned up to kiss him again.
Dave kissed back eagerly (maybe a little too much so), grunting quietly as he thrust against Kurt. He worked a hand between them, resting his weight on one elbow as he fumbled with the front of Kurt's pants.
"They fasten on the inside," Kurt mumbled, reaching down to help Dave. With two flicks of his wrist the fastener was open, and he guided Dave’s fingers to the tab of the zipper, his hips jerking as Dave’s fingertips grazed over his cloth-covered erection.
As soon as Kurt's pants were undone, Dave slipped his hand inside, then into his underwear, settling it heavily on the other boy's cock. He buried his face in the crook of Kurt's neck as he touched him, teeth grazing over the soft skin there as he tried (a little desperately) not to think of all the ways this could go wrong. Could backfire. Could ruin what they already had. He guessed, though, that the risk was worth it. If it all turned out okay in the end. Because, if he were being honest with himself (and he was getting better about doing that), being with Kurt was worth risking just about anything.
Kurt let out a little whine and nuzzled into Dave’s hair, his arms slipping around Dave’s and his hands dragging down his bare back. His hips twitched rhythmically as his dick strained into Dave’s grip, and he slid his hands into the back of Dave’s basketball shorts, squeezing his ass through the thin fabric of his boxers. "God, I knew it was a good idea to wait for you," Kurt murmured, his breath hitching as Dave’s hand curled fully around his dick. "Knew you’d take care of me -- ah!"
Kurt's words startled him. "You were... waiting for me?" Dave asked quietly, breathing the words again the side of the other boy's neck. He chased his words with his lips, mouthing his way up Kurt's neck to his ear as he jerked him off slowly.
"Yeah, I -- " Kurt broke off on a moan, his fingers clenching on Dave’s ass. "I almost, you know? But it wasn’t right, and then you happened, and I -- " He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Dave’s shoulder. "It was so obvious once I realized, but I didn’t think you... wanted me back. Because you were always so careful, and you never said anything, and -- "
"Don't be fucking retarded." Dave laughed. It wasn't funny, though. Really, they were both so stupid he could almost cry. "I wanted you -- so fucking much... I just didn't want -- I mean, with everything that's already fucking happened." Dave's words faltered, even if his hand didn't.
"Yeah, well. I want you -- God, get these off -- " Kurt muttered, tugging at the waistband of Dave’s basketball shorts. "I want you, too. Surprise! I lied. You’re my type." He got his fingers under the elastic band and shoved the shorts down a few inches.
Dave pulled his hand out of the other boy's pants just long enough to comply, pulling his shorts down and off carefully, then moved for Kurt's pants again, pulling them down his hips slowly. "... I am?"
"Do you really think I’d be here with you right now -- I’m still wearing my shoes, those pants aren’t coming off all the way -- if you weren’t?" Kurt asked, smiling and lifting his hips to help Dave get his pants off.
Dave grinned sheepishly. "Oh. Right." Oh well. Getting them down to Kurt's knees was a good enough accomplishment, right? He moved on to pulling the other boy's underwear down, getting more handsy the less nervous he got.
"Ah -- " Kurt gasped. "God, that’s -- " He bucked his hips against Dave’s hand, frowning when his pants trapped his legs and restricted his range of motion. "Mmm, wait, I -- I can’t move my legs the way I want to." He pressed his hands against Dave’s shoulders, half-urging, half-helping him to stand upright so he could pull off his shoes and socks, and kick off his pants and briefs. "Come here," he murmured then, leaning back and opening his arms in clear invitation.
Dave didn't need to be told twice. He was back on Kurt in an instant, grabbing, kissing, touching. He moaned softly against the other boy's mouth when he took hold of his dick again, stroking him slowly.
Kurt nipped at Dave’s lower lip as he slipped a hand down between them and caressed Dave’s hard-on. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft, jerking him off in a rhythm matching Dave’s. "What do you like," he murmured. "Show me on mine." He hitched a leg up around Dave’s hips, bending the other at the knee and placing his foot flat against the bed. "Come on," he hummed, "show me."
To be honest, the fact that it was Kurt touching him in itself was so much more than enough, but with him talking like that... Dave touched him like he touched himself, tightening his grip just a little, going slow and twisting his wrist on every upward stroke.
Kurt threw his head back, his mouth opening on a little, "Oh," as he matched Dave’s movements. "That’s good," he moaned, "that’s -- " He leaned up on his elbow, first to kiss Dave wetly, then to look down between their bodies where they were jerking each other off. "Here, I -- " He slid a few inches down the bed and thrust upwards. "Together. We should... together." He wrapped his hand around both of their shafts as much as he was able, still following Dave’s movements.
As soon as Dave caught on to what Kurt meant, he copied him, adjusting his grip to include his own cock as well, and -- "Ohh, my god..." he muttered, catching Kurt's bottom lip between his teeth as he thrust against him.
Kurt tightened his leg around Dave’s hips and thrust up with a whine of "Oh, fuck," instinctively seeking friction against Dave’s cock in the tunnel their hands formed. His thrusts accelerated slightly and he swirled his tongue into Dave’s mouth, licking his palate before withdrawing and urging Dave’s tongue to follow so he could suck on it.
"Close," he grunted, shuddering slightly. "Fuck -- close." Dave didn't want to come. Okay, well, he did but not so soon. It's not like he ever stood a chance, though. With Kurt under him, touching him, making those noises -- yeah. He'd been done for from the get-go.
"Wanna see," Kurt panted, angling his head down to watch the movements of their hands and their cocks. "God, I have to -- " he tightened his grip a little, his thighs trembling with exertion as he pumped his hips up into their hands, his balls pressing against Dave’s and then retreating on every thrust.
"Oh god -- fuck! Ye--" Dave came with a low groan, spilling onto Kurt's stomach and cock. When he became too sensitive, Dave adjusted his grip and moved Kurt's hand away as he continued jerking the other boy off.
If the sudden slickness of Dave’s grip hadn’t been enough, by itself, to send Kurt into his own orgasm, the sight of Dave’s big hand jerking him off definitely would have done it. "God, your hand," Kurt whined, thrusting up once and clamping his leg tight around Dave’s hip while his muscles spasmed and his come mingled with Dave’s. He collapsed onto the bed, pulling Dave down to kiss him lazily.
Dave kissed back as he worked out the best way to hold his weight so that he wasn't hurting Kurt or his knee, but after a moment, the need to clean up made itself known and, reluctantly, he pulled away. "I, um... I'll go get a towel, 'kay?" He slid off the bed, pulling his shorts back up.
"’kay," Kurt murmured, sprawling out on Dave’s bed and peering down at the mess on his belly. Almost curiously, he ran a finger through it, the muscles beneath his skin twitching as his fingertip passed over them.
Dave made his way to the bathroom and washed his hands -- then to the laundry room when he realized there weren't any towels, and dug one out of the pile of crap he'd meant to fold days ago and took it back to the bathroom to run part of it under the warm tap. Slowly, it started sinking in. What'd just happened. He'd touched Kurt and Kurt had wanted him to. Kurt had touched him. He liked him.
He tried to get the stupid fucking grin off of his face before he went back to his room, but it was next to impossible so he gave up on the idea.
When Dave walked back into his room, Kurt gave him a slow grin. "There you are," he said. He crooked his finger at Dave and his grin widened. "Come here. I want my first afterglow cuddle."
Dave wasn't about to say no to that request. He got back onto the bed, leaning down to kiss the other boy as he cleaned him off.
"Mmm," Kurt murmured into the kiss. "See? Knew you’d take care of me." He pulled the towel out of Dave’s hand and dropped it to the floor, then scooted over so Dave could lie down and curled into him. "When we wake up, I’m kicking your ass at Free Bird," he warned, nuzzling against Dave’s throat.
"Sure you are." Dave snorted, pulling the other boy close. After that, it didn't take long for him to drop off to sleep.
--
When Kurt woke, he was alone in the bed. The sheets were still warm in the dent from Dave’s body, and he could hear the muffled sound of water running. "Must be in the shower," he muttered, turning over and stretching. He sat up, and the bedding pooled at his waist. Looked around the room. The TV was still on, as was the Xbox. He stood up, padding across the carpet to turn both off and screw the cap onto the bottle of rum. Turned around. Stretched again. When he relaxed, he noticed something lying on the carpet next to the bed. Curiously, he picked it up, and sat on the bed to examine it.
The envelope was still carefully sealed. It had Kurt's name on it. It was pressed almost completely flat, like it'd been under something for a while and -- well, who wouldn't want to know what it said?
The envelope glue gave easily.
Kurt,
You'll never read this. I knew that the second I decided to write it. But I needed to tell someone and, since I can't, here this is. So I guess I'm just venting or some shit. Or journaling. Except less lame.
I see you every day and I can't stop it. How I feel. How much I fucking love everything about you. Love you. It's fucking ridiculous. And then I do this stupid shit like hit you and steal from you and...
I should probably be in fucking therapy for this. You probably hate me. Fuck, of course you do. You're gone, aren't you?
You're gone and you hate me and I fucked it all up. I feel bad about everything.
But I guess mostly I'm just feeling sorry for myself. Cause I love you and I can't even say it except in some stupid letter I'm probably gonna throw away. So I guess you were right about me...
Kurt couldn’t read any further, although there were several paragraphs left in the letter. He folded it back up and slipped it back into the envelope, then tucked the envelope back between the mattress and springboard, where he assumed it had been wedged before. Then he stood up and snuck out of Dave’s room and into the adjoining bathroom, where the shower was still running and he could hear Dave singing under his breath.
"Hey," he said over the sound of the shower. "Mind if I join you?"
Dave jumped slightly, then shook his head, hoping Kurt hadn't heard him singing. "No, s'cool," he replied. Showering together seemed... really fucking intimate. He just hoped he wasn't reading too much into nothing and making it a something when it... wasn't.
Kurt pulled back the shower curtain and stepped into the tub, immediately closing the curtain behind him. The curtain muted the light in the shower area, so instead of letting his gaze linger, Kurt wrapped his arms around Dave’s waist and stepped in close to press a kiss against his wet jaw. "You smell nice," he murmured.
Dave grinned stupidly at the comment, hands moving automatically to slide down Kurt's sides to rest on his hips. "Didn't wake you up, did I? I tried to be quiet," he murmured, leaning in to kiss him.
"Mmm, I woke up and you weren’t there," Kurt replied. "It’s okay. I needed a shower, too." He reached around Dave and grabbed the bar of soap sitting on the edge of the bathtub.
"I -- um." Dave ducked his head to kiss the side of Kurt's neck so he wouldn't see his face turning red. "Are we... What are we?" God, that sounded gay...
Kurt caught Dave’s chin with his free hand and lifted it, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. "Us," he replied. "We’re us."
Us... Yeah, Dave could definitely live with that. He smiled slightly into the kiss and pulled Kurt closer.
dlgr requested as part of the KIMS Trevor Project charity event. Want a ficlet of your very own? Follow the instructions on the linked post. }![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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