Hand in Glove
When Dave steps into the bar, everything's the same as every other Friday night at Scandals. He slips past the bouncer with a small smile and a nod - no need for a flash of the fake ID now he's a regular – and heads past the busy dance floor towards the pool table to meet the guys who've become his friends over the last six months, guys just like him - bears - the kind of guys he'd never dreamed existed when he was too scared to even Google the word 'gay', guys who'd accepted him and looked out for him without question or judgement.
"Hey," he said, attempting to take off his jacket before being grabbed by Mike, sometime Scandals barman, who'd been first to take Dave under his metaphorical wing.
"Hey yourself," Mike smirked and grabbed him by the arm as he marched them towards the bar, "I don't know what you've been getting up to in your spare time, cubbie, but there is the cutest underage twink sitting at the bar asking questions about you," Mike points to the boy perched on the stool at the far end of the bar, delicately clutching his martini glass. It's dark but for the flashing pink and amber lights from the dance floor, but the silhouette is achingly familiar.
"That's..." he pauses and looks back at Mike. "He asked about me? What did he ask?"
"Patience, David. You dish first."
"It's Kurt," Dave replies, looking pointedly back at Mike. "Y'know, the guy from my old school. The one I told you about." His eyes flick back to Kurt. His mouth's gone dry and he wants a beer more now than he thinks he ever has in his life.
"Oh..." is all the response he gets from Mike. He's heard drunken Dave lament their colorful history.
"Well, what did he ask?" Dave pulls free of Mike's grip and tries to look at him while he speaks, but really, Kurt is less than eight feet in front of him, all lean lines and good posture, the light catching his features so as to highlight his cheekbones and those full lips...Kurt fucking Hummel, back at Scandals. It was hard to concentrate on anything else.
"He said he was looking for a cute cub named Dave to fuck his brains out."
"Um, what?" Dave tore his gaze away from Kurt at that.
"Thought that'd get your attention," Mike chuckled, then, seeing the serious expression on Dave's face, quickly matched it. "Just messin' with you. Sorry. Dickie just asked me if you were coming tonight, said the kid at the bar asked about you. That's all I know."
"Right," Dave cast a sideways glance at the dance floor. "Is his boyfriend with him?"
"How the fuck should I know?" Mike elbowed his ribs and smiled, "Go ask him yourself."
It'd been almost three months since Dave had seen Kurt, right here at the same bar and he couldn't lie, at least not to himself, that after their brief conversation that night he'd been thinking about him. A lot. That particular night, he'd done some serious thinking about him when he got home, remembering the curl of his lips as they talked and the wiggle of his hips as he'd joined his boyfriend on the dance floor.
More than once in the weeks that followed, he'd hovered over the 'Add Friend' button on Kurt's facebook profile, only to think better of it, after everything. Not that the enormous crush he'd had on Hummel since freshman year had ever gone away, but he'd worked so hard to get over it, to move on – after his post Prom meltdown, he'd told his Dad some of the story and his therapist all of it – and the catharsis it brought meant a fresh start across the board. While he wasn't even close to being back to where he started, he was disappointed – no, frustrated – that so much of what he'd worked on has been easily undone by a few kind words and Kurt smiling that smile, just for him.
The situation hadn't been helped any when he saw Blaine back at Scandals with that slutty rich kid, sans Kurt, just a few weeks later. He couldn't help but wonder at that.
As he stared across the bar at Kurt - sitting cross-legged, sipping his drink and side-eyeing the guy who'd just slid into the seat beside him - Dave felt butterflies in his stomach. Just when he thought he was about as gay as he was ever going to be, the very sight of Kurt Hummel made him want to sing showtunes and dance cartwheels across the floor. "Fuck my life," Dave muttered in Mike's general direction, and made his way towards the cute twink at the bar.