AN: This is NOT my best fic... But I've been a Kurtofsky pirate since NBK, and I just needed to finally get something out there, especially since I have 83534534 Kurtofsky fics started. I'm totally aware it starts off cracky and gets serious and that's a total disconnect, but I couldn't smooth it out and just wanted to be done with it... So hopefully the two pieces are good enough separately to make up for it? And it drives me nuts it Kurtofsky fics where authors feel the need to make Blaine evil, but like I've said a hundred times now, I just wanted to get this done, and that was the easiest way to wrap it up. Sorry. I don't post just my good fics here, I post ALL my fics here. -shrug-
If you recognize it, I don't own it. If you don't like Kurtofsky, I'm very sorry you're missing out on such a great ship, but please don't flame me for liking it. I don't flame you.
Kurt shrieked and nearly fell out of bed. He scrambled up into a sitting position and, heart-pounding, squinted fruitlessly into the darkness of his bedroom. It sounded as though a gunshot had been fired, or a nuclear bomb had gone off, or something equally catastrophic had just happened. He was hyperventilating loudly, and found himself pulling his knees to his chest, fists clutching at the blankets he brought to his chin. Slowly his eyes began to adjust – the only source of light was the full moon out the only window of his bedroom. His room looked just the way it had when he went to bed. Maybe if he held very, very still, and tried not to think, the noise wouldn't happen again or he would wake up or something.
The noise came again.
Kurt bit back his responding scream with a hand he slapped to his mouth, and sprung out of bed. The noise had come from his window. Holding one hand out in front of him as though that would protect him, he stalked carefully towards the window, and looked out across the snow covered lawn... Nothing. What the... He had just pressed his nose to the glass in an effort to get a better look when a rather large rock smacked against the glass directly in front of him. He was so surprised he didn't even have the air in his lungs to yell as he tripped and fell backwards onto his ass.
It took him a moment to realize that someone was throwing rocks at his window. His first thought was to be pissed off. Who the hell would do such an idiotic thing with such large rocks? He struggled to his feet and stomped to the window. He pried it open, struggling to shove it up so that he could lean out of it. As he was fighting to raise it, it occurred to him that maybe it was Blaine.
Oh my Gaga, holy shit, maybe it was Blaine!
He took a moment to smooth his hair, worry about his satin pajamas (but, alas, nothing could be done), and take a deep breath before he leaned as seductively as he could out of the window. He leaned forward, propping his chin in his hand, the elbow resting against the sill. "Hel-looooo, Bl-" but when Kurt stopped fluttering his eyelashes and saw a very large, very sheepish man in a red lettermen's jacket, his words caught in his throat and his elbow slipped. The man below yelled as Kurt caught himself from falling out the window just in time.
"Karofsky!" Kurt screeched, and Dave had just run a hand through his hair and appeared to be gearing up for a speech when Kurt heard his roommate calling his name from their adjoining room. "Wait right there!" Kurt whisper-yelled at Dave, before turning to face back into his dormroom. "Go back to bed, Jackson, I was just having a bad dream."
Dave cleared his throat pointedly from below, and, apparently flustered, he turned on a stereo that Kurt hadn't noticed tucked under Dave's arm. It started to play tinny Christmas music, and Kurt wondered if he'd crossed over into The Twilight Zone before or after he'd gone to bed.. "Dammit, Karofsky! I'll talk to you in a minute, okay?"
"Who're you talking to, Kurt?" Jackson called. "Just a dream? Are you okay?"
"Yes, yes-" Kurt started, angry, when suddenly a voice joined the low quality music.
"But baby, it's cold outside."
Kurt's mouth gaped open. Was David Karofsky really standing below his bedroom window in sub zero temperatures in a town an hour and a half from his own singing the male's part of a classic two-part Christmas carol?
"But baby, it's cold outside." Yes. David Karofsky was most definitely standing below his bedroom window singing Baby, It's Cold Outside. Kurt decided that he must not have entered The Twilight Zone until after he'd gone to bed.
"Kurt?" Jackson called.
"YES. I AM FINE. PLEASE GO TO BED!" Kurt was fully aware his voice had long since surpassed hysterical.
"Been hoping that you'd drop in."
"Is somebody singing?" Jackson asked, and Kurt heard his door begin to creak open. Shooting one last glare at Dave, he sprinted across the room to close the door.
"No, no one's singing!" Kurt yelled, leaning heavily against the door.
"I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice."
"It sure sounds like somebody's singing!"
"Beautiful, what's your hurry?"
"I'm playing music. It's my stereo."
"Listen to the fireplace roar."
"Why can't I come in? Are you sure you're alright?"
For dear Gaga's sake, did somebody in charge hate him? Maybe God existed and was feeling vindictive. Kurt was near tears.
"Beautiful, please don't hurry!"
"I'M NAKED, JACKSON. THAT'S WHY YOU CAN'T COME IN. GO. TO. BED."
There was a long pause, then Karofsky singing again- "Put some records on while I pour" -and Kurt had a momentary out of body experience when his spine tingled as Dave hit that particularly low note. Jackson sighed loudly on the other side of the door.
"Fine, Kurt. Whatever. Just, please. No more yelling. Good night."
"Baby, it's bad out there."
"Good night," Kurt responded meekly, locking his door before walking tentatively back to the window.
Dave, who had been trucking along quite securely in a smooth baritone faltered when he saw Kurt leaning wearily back out the window. "No cabs-" his voice broke, and he flushed, embarrassed, looking down.
"What the hell are you doing here, Karofsky?" Kurt asked, exhausted. "I have no clue what kind of mean joke you're trying to play, but don't worry, you've already ruined my evening. Good night. Go home."
Kurt's words had taken up a round of the lyrics, and another round passed as Dave glared angrily up at him. Then, he picked up the words again. "'I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell."
And before he knew what he was doing, Kurt was automatically singing back. "I ought to say no, no, no, sir."
Karofsky was so surprised that he gaped, face open and vulnerable and amazed, until his turn came around again. "What's the sense in hurting my pride?" He sang tentatively.
Oh, to Hell with it, Kurt thought. His night couldn't get much weirder. Hopefully, he'd wake up in a minute or two – might as well live out the impossible in the meantime. "I really can't stay."
"Baby, don't hold out!" Karofsky sang back, enthusiastic and loud, and the word "baby" sounding oddly at home on his lips.
"Ahh, but it's cold outside," they sang together, Kurt just barely recovering when he realized that Karofsky was singing the standard harmony part.
"I simply must go," Kurt sang as he realized that, this entire time, Karofsky had been singing beautifully. He really had an amazing voice.
"But baby, it's cold outside."
"The answer is no!"
"But baby, it's cold outside."
"This welcome has been-"
"How lucky that you dropped in."
Kurt took a moment to laugh maniacally at the sheer irony of the words before struggling to get in enough breath to continue with, "so nice and warm."
"Look out the windows at that storm."
"My sister will be suspicious."
"Gosh, your lips look delicious." And there was that shiver up his spine again. It must be the draft from the open window through his thin satin pajamas.
"My brother will be there at the door."
"Waves upon a tropical shore."
"My maiden aunt's mind is vicious."
"Oooh, your lips are delicious." There was that damned shiver again. Kurt faltered, choked on his words, and Dave nervously eeked out the next line when Kurt missed his part. "Never such a blizzard before."
"Turn off the music, Dave," Kurt said softly, so softly that he was surprised Dave even heard him. He must have, though, because Dave immediately turned off the stereo. "What are you doing here?" He asked just as quietly.
"Blaine is not my boyfriend!" Kurt snapped, exasperated.
"Sorry, Blaine," Dave corrected, smiling just slightly up at Kurt."Blaine and I ran into each other yesterday. And we got to talking. And he...he just mentioned that you...Well, that you and he had sung this song the day before that. And that you really liked it. And how you and he would be..."
Dave trailed off, and then suddenly he crumpled, sitting down heavily on his butt, dropping the stereo and resting his head in his hands. Kurt shut the window, put on his big winter jacket and a pair of shoes, and headed down three sets of stairs and out the back door of Dalton Academy. As he expected, Dave was still sitting there, quiet, and suddenly Kurt wasn't afraid, or even upset. Mostly, he was just tired. But he kept walking until he reached Dave's side, and he extended his hand, shivering. "Stand up, Karofsky. It's cold outside."
Dave peeked up at him from his hands and cracked the smallest of smiles yet again. He took Kurt's proffered hand, but put no weight on it as he pulled himself to his feet, and he didn't let go of it once he was standing, either. "You've been gone a long time, Fancy."
"Yeah," Kurt said quietly. "I've been gone awhile." They stood in silence for a moment, watching their breath, Kurt's hand tight in Karofsky's, before Kurt spoke again. "What did Blaine tell you?"
"I don't even know," Karofsky said, and he sounded as tired as Kurt felt. "He said that he was gonna perform that song for something, and he'd practiced with you and you... well, he said you 'melted'." Kurt laughed lowly, and Karofsky seemed to take encouragement from this and pick up steam. "I know! How fucking douchey, right? And he said that he had you wrapped around his little finger, but he wanted to play with you for a while and that he didn't figure he'd..." Karofsky choked, actually choked and had to clear his throat. Kurt had the vague feeling he was about to get some bad news, and thought that Dave had perhaps the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen. "He didn't think he'd be able to get into your pants, and he'd get bored soon anyway, and there was nothing I could do about it."
Kurt blinked blankly.
"Do you even like that song?" Karofsky asked quietly.
"I'm pretty sure it's about date rape," Kurt whispered back. There was a long silence and Karofsky (the dick) was still holding his hand and Blaine (the douche) was using him, but could he really trust Karofsky's (the dick's) assement of the situation and he wasn't thinking straight and it was really fucking cold and he wanted to go home but his SUV had a flat tire and was in his Dad's shop.
"I guess... Hey," Kurt looked up to meet Karofsky's eyes, and the bigger man continued. "I guess now would be a good time to tell you I didn't mean any of those things I said. I-" his face began to crumple, but he seemed to fight off the tears just in time, although his face was still closed in on itself. "I would never, never hurt you. I'm so, so sorry I said those things. I said it seriously, and I know you took it seriously, but I never meant it seriously, and I'm so freaking sorry and I know you'll never forgive me." His voice broke and the tears started and Kurt couldn't stop thinking about how big and warm and rough his hand was. "And that's...Well, no, it's not okay, it'll never be okay, I'll never be okay, but I like-" Karofsky choked again, and Kurt furrowed his eyebrows. "You. I like you, and I like boys. I mean, I think I like girlsto, but I like you. A lot. And I get you don't like me, I know, I know, I'm fat and ugly and-"
"No!" Kurt said quietly, but so passionately that Karofsky stopped in his tracks. "I should never have said that. You aren't fat orugly."
"Yeah, whatever, but-"
"No, I mean it," Kurt said seriously. "I...I'm sorry, too. I should never have said those things to you. You were hurting me, and I was lashing out blindly, saying things I didn't mean. I happen to think you're..." Kurt paused to take a long, deep breath. "I happen to think you're very handsome."
There was an instant in which Karofsky flushed beet red, and then he started rattling off rapid-fire words at an alarmingly fast rate. "Don't even say that, Kurt, thank you so much but don't say that. I don't deserve for you to say nice things about me like that, I don't deserve to be apologized to by you. I could stand here and apologize to you for the rest of my life and it would never be enough, I could never say enough to make any of it up to you. For kissing you when you didn't want it, and saying all those horrible things, and throwing slushies at you and shoving you and stealing your cake topper and threatening to kill you and I'm so freaking sorry, Kurt, I can't even... I'm so freaking sorry I can't even breathe. Are you cold? You must be cold." He had latched on to something real and unembarrassing and he wiped the tears from his face roughly with the back of his hand. He shrugged off his lettermen jacket and wrapped it around Kurt's shoulders, only now letting go of Kurt's hand. Kurt took the jacket silently, even though it left Dave in only a long sleeved t-shirt. The jacket smelled of cologne and Dave was standing there and he wasn't shivering but he was still crying and Kurt was amazed at how stupid he had been to run away from such a fragile man.
"Yes?" Dave said, and he was staring so earnestly into Kurt's eyest that Kurt realized he trusted the bigger man implicitly.
"I really don't want to go to school tomorrow. Would you drive me home?"
Karofsky stared blankly at Kurt for a moment, before a very slow, crooked grin lit up Dave's face. "Of couse, Fancy." And this time, Dave was the one who held out his hand for Kurt to take.