I wrote more fanfiction, yes I did.

Should I actually try to start tagging these properly? I don’t know.

This is a follow-up to this fic I wrote a while back. Inspired by recent Kurtofsky things happening, my love for them has been rekindled.

I just love Kurt guys, I ship everyone with Kurt.

Anyway.

About ~2k words, Kurtofsky interaction, brief mentions of Blaine wandering drunk through a forest.

Kurt’s forehead pressed into the steering wheel, which was sure to leave an ugly mark. He clung to the wheel in the still, dark car, face aching and body weak from the dry sobs that had wracked his frame long after he’d run out of tears.

He didn’t know where Blaine was; he’d waited too long to follow him and try to convince him to get back into the car and now here he was, too paralyzed by despondence and guilt and self-pity to even drive home. He should never have agreed to go to this stupid bar. It reeked with the cloying scent of sweat and cheap cologne, all the surfaces sticky with God knows what, and it was all just so gross and creepy and… intimidating. He didn’t belong here. He couldn’t have stood out more in that place if he had shown up wearing nothing but a spangly G-string and a smile- in fact, he’d probably have fit in better if he had. He belonged at home, where things were familiar and he could exist in the safe, sexless, habitual mundanity that he knew.

He sniffed wetly, blinking and staring sullenly into space with swollen eyes. He’d ruined it, missed his chance to be, what did Blaine call it? “Spontaneous and fun”? Tonight could have been an unforgettable night of passion and dancing but instead, here he was being a crybaby in the parking lot of a awful STD-ridden gay bar while Blaine drunkenly stumbled home through miles of forest.

Kurt’s hands slipped off the wheel as he sighed despairingly, ignoring the lump growing in his throat again. He was destined to be alone, stuck in this stagnant little town forever. Who was he kidding with dreams of New York anyway? He belong here with the rest of the nobodies and losers and failures-

A light, hesitant tapping on his driver’s side window startled him out of his reverie. His mind immediately flew to the one and only time he’d ever been pulled over, where he’d had such a tearful panic attack that the officer had let him off with a warning. Kurt didn’t do well with cops. He snapped upright, eyes wide with fear trying to make sense of the figure leaning over to be level with the station wagon. Two concerned, dark eyes appeared in the gloom before the rest came into focus.

“Karofsky?” Kurt croaked. God, of course, just dig a hole in the ground for me to die in...David raised his eyebrows in question, mouthing “are you okay?”. Kurt hesitated for a moment too long, mouth open wordlessly. He knew he could just say he was fine, wave him away and be done with this already humiliating encounter, but he couldn’t find his voice. David waited for an answer, looking more troubled as the seconds ticked by. He finally stood, turning away from the car to say something indiscernible to someone a ways off in the parking lot before leaning down again. “Do… you need to talk?” His voice was muffled by the window’s glass, and he looked a little like he was ready to flee at the slightest hint that he was unwelcome. Kurt sniffed again, looking down at his knees for a long moment in which Dave began to slowly straighten, wondering if he’d crossed a line. But a small, shifting clunk made him pause. Kurt’s finger rested on the unlock button, and he shot David a side-eyed look before nudging his head toward the passenger side door.

The larger man didn’t move, unsure, until Kurt sighed explosively and dramatically swung his arm toward the seat next to him. “Do you need a red carpet? Does being a gay bar veteran give you that much of a diva complex?” He rolled his eyes as David all but jogged around the front of the car before opening the door and sliding, slightly clumsily, into the seat. The door slammed, and as silence fell over the two men, Kurt’s heart began to pound. The talk they’d had in the bar had been awkward, but good. Conclusive. It was closure. He could have left tonight and not worried about David Karofsky ever again, but here they were. He felt raw from crying, exposed and frightened and he had no one else.

Kurt seemed to physically shrink, losing himself in his swirling thoughts and trying to fight back tears. He was not going to cry in front of Karofsky, he was not. The other man watched him with growing worry creasing his brow. The air inside of the wagon was becoming choking as the silence dragged on. Dave opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, then turned away, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair. Kurt stared down at his lap, feeling miserable and childish. “Blaine and I had a fight.” He said quietly, the words breaking the stillness.

Dave said nothing, staring out the windshield. His eyes flicked to the smaller man, then back outside. “You guys seemed pretty happy earlier.” Kurt shifted uncomfortably, thankful for the moonless night hiding the blush creeping across his face. He remembered Dave’s proposition earlier, and turning him down and then dancing away with Blaine like nothing was wrong. Things had changed so fast. “Yeah well,” he muttered bitterly, “turns out there’s less to be happy about when certain people don’t know the meaning of ‘no’.”

Dave’s eyes widened in shock, hackles raising as the implication of Kurt’s words sunk in. He spun to face him, the cab of the car suddenly seeming too small to contain him. “Did- did he hurt you?” He managed, voice shaking with disbelief and anger. Kurt stared in shock before throwing his head back with a short, barking laugh. “Like you are one to even ask that question, David Karofsky!” he said, voice tight and shrill with indignation. The sting of his words hit Dave like a slap in the face, and forced him back in his seat.

Kurt flushed again, shame and embarrassment clawing at his spine. He exhaled, rubbing his eyes, and shook his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean that.” The other man put up his hand to stop him, eyes hard with an indistinguishable emotion.

“No, you did. And you aren’t wrong. I can’t judge anybody after what I did to you.” Dave’s brow furrowed and he sighed heavily, massaging the bridge of his nose. “I just don’t want anyone else to hurt you either. It’s… what’s that word?”

“Hypocritical.” Kurt deadpanned, then gave an apologetic look when Dave snorted at his bluntness. “Sorry.”

Kurt opened his mouth to say something else, but it caught in his throat and he swallowed it down, suddenly wanting to change the subject. Clearing his throat, he sniffed and crossed his arms. “It wasn’t like that.” He murmured, ears reddening as he thought back to just an hour before in this very car. “He was just… drunk and being ridiculous and stormed off. It was just a misunderstanding.”

Dave was silent, contemplatively playing with the brim of his hat. “Are you guys going to be okay?” He said neutrally, not looking up. Kurt nodded automatically, closing his eyes and trying to picture all the other good things that had happened between them that overshadowed this awful night. “Yes. We’ll be fine. It’s just a speed bump on the roadtrip to paradise.” David snorted at the analogy, glancing over at the smaller man. “I just hope you guys have enough gas to get there.” He intoned, cocking an eyebrow in a way that should not have made Kurt’s heart skip.

“Your concern for our relationship is heartwarming.” Kurt immediately snarked, cocking his head and pulling his standard “bitch face”. Dave laughed, and even Kurt cracked a grin. It was honestly nice to see the guy happy, after so long of seeing nothing but anger and fear behind his eyes.

Dave smirked at Kurt. “You’re gonna be okay.” He said genuinely, patting the other on the shoulder. Kurt smiled wanly in return, then let his eyes fall.

“Do you really believe that?”

“I do. You’re… you’ve got a lot going for you. If anyone’s gonna do it, I know you can.”

Kurt swallowed thickly, trying to rid the lump forming in his throat. He finally met David’s eyes again, trying to give a believable smile. “You’re going to be okay too. You know that, right?” David waved the question away, and Kurt stared at him, lost in thought. Dave met his eyes, and they spent a long second saying nothing. The smaller man broke his gaze away first, looking down at his hands. “You’ve changed a lot, David. You know… I can’t ever forget what you did though, right?”

David turned to stare out of the parking lot, watching a car speed by on the shadowy street, its headlights leaving a trail like a comet in the darkness. “I would never, ever expect you to.” He said, jaw tight. “I know ‘sorry’ isn’t enough. But I wanna do whatever I can to try to make it better.” He glanced at the pale young man next to him, his eyes still swollen from tears but glowing in the twilight. The man who was sitting next to him in spite of everything he had said, listening to what he had to say despite everything he had done to him. “You don’t have to forgive me. Giving me a chance to try to fix things is enough.”

Kurt’s mouth quirked in a half-smile, the dimple in his right cheek making a winking appearance. “It isn’t that hard. You’re pretty nice when you want to be.” Dave’s face split into an an unabashed grin, infectious in its genuine warmth. Kurt placed a hand on his shoulder, gently squeezing. “Thank you, David.”

Dave may have blushed slightly, but it was almost imperceptible in the shadows of the car. “No problem.” He began to say something else but was cut off by a short honk from someone’s car horn. He twisted to look out the window to see the car across the lot flash its lights once in their direction. “Shit, I need to get going.” He said under his breath. Kurt raised his eyebrows, slowly withdrawing his hand from the other’s arm. “That a… uh… ‘companion’ of yours?” He asked, suddenly unsure of what to say.

“He’s a friend.” Dave said, reaching for the door handle, then paused. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You jealous?” Kurt rolled his eyes so hard that it made his head hurt.

“Dear God- so cocky, Karofsky! What has become of you, I am afraid even ask.” David just laughed and swung the door open, climbing out of the car with a lightness that didn’t match his frame. He thumped his hand on the roof of the station wagon. “Call your boyfriend, Hummel.” He said before shutting the passenger door and walking across the lot, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets against the cool night air.

Kurt watched the car start up and pull out, the rumble of the engine fading into the distance, and once again he was alone. His thoughts were buzzing in the back of his mind, but he forced them down until they were nothing but a dull whine. “Hypocritical.” He murmured to no one, then started the car and blinking furiously, tried to ignore the butterflies beating their tiny wings against his chest.

Never get off the train

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I wrote more fanfiction, yes I did.

Notes