Title: Cretins and Masochists
Spoilers: Pics for Superbowl ep
Rating: R for language
Summery: "Kurt," Blaine said slowly, "Did you just agree to go out on a date with the Neanderthal?"
Kurt couldn't even have said exactly how he ended up in Dave Karofsky's face yet again, yelling at the top of his lungs in the middle of a McKinley High football game, of all things.
But here they were, with Kurt's dad and Carole and Blaine and the entire freaking football team watching them like they were completely out of their minds.
Kurt vaguely remembered seeing Dave grin and smack another player on the ass, and maybe that's what set him off. But how dare Karofsky be happy and smiling and fine with smacking another guy on the butt, and Kurt is stuck in the middle of Boys Town with a cute guy who smiles vaguely when Kurt flirts outrageously?
Somehow or another, they ended up here: Karofsky's helmet shoved back on his head, Kurt standing on the bleacher above him, screaming in each other's faces about rights and wrongs and stereotypes while football fans give them a wide berth.
Karofsky gestured angrily, but Kurt noted somewhere in the back of his head, made no threatening moves toward him whatsoever. Karofsky's language didn't even include any entertaining slurs or insults.
"Yeah, right, " he was saying as Kurt tuned back in. "You waltz off to your pansy-ass rich boy school, and I'm here dealing with this whole mess. Did you know my mother almost had me committed? She was convinced I was suicidal!"
"How is that my fault, you moron?" Kurt replied scathingly. "If you had any idea how to deal with people who are different, how to deal with yourself, none of this crap would have happened, and I would still be at McKinley!"
"I can deal just fine, pretty boy! I am dealing right now! Here you are and I haven't done a damn thing about it!"
"You can deal just fine with me and all my weirdness?" Kurt balled his hands into fists and straightened his back under his pea coat. He glared and challenged, "Prove it!"
Karofsky snapped back immediately, "Fine! I'll pick you up tomorrow at seven!"
By the sudden frozen look on Karofsky's face, he wasn't quite sure either, and he faltered before nodding and turning away sharply. "Seven!" He called behind him as he jammed his helmet back onto his head.
Kurt stood stock still for a second and watched the big athlete stride back to the team, where even the ref seemed a little shell shocked.
Kurt made his way back to his bench without taking in the stares and whispers, but he shook himself back to the world as he reclaimed his seat between Blaine and his father.
"Kurt," Blaine said slowly, "Did you just agree to go out on a date with the Neanderthal?"
"Kurt, I'm not comfortable with you dating someone who threatened to kill you," his dad put in, looking at Kurt with concern.
Kurt just blinked in confusion.
Across the field, Azimo slapped Karofsky on the back of the head. "Dude, what the hell? Did you honestly just...just..?"
Karofsky shook his head, nodded, then shrugged in bafflement. "I don't even know, man. I don't even know." He looked around at the football players of both teams, all of whom were staring. He raised his hand and waved at Coach Beiste. "Can I go home? I'm either gay or out of my fucking mind."
At 6:45 PM the next night, Kurt had picked out seven different outfits ranging from "most slushy ready" to "I'm too sexy for your sweatiness," put all of them back in his closet and picked out something that said possibly said both "I am datable and hot" and "I am too hot to get murdered in this outfit", redid his hair four times, and continuously paced through the living room in front of the TV his father was trying to watch.
This was all extremely stupid, and he was betting money that Karofsky wouldn't even show, and if he did, it would only be to tar and feather Kurt in his driveway.
"Kurt," his father called again. "I really don't want you going out with this guy. He threatened to kill you! You were so scared you changed schools!" Burt adjusted his ball cap in agitation.
"I know, Dad," Kurt soothed, absently changing jackets again. "This isn't a date, so don't worry." He examined his reflection in the full length mirror with a frown, and took his jacket back off. "If he even shows up - which, by the way, I completely doubt - I will go no further then the doorstep, and we will attempt to have a civilized conversation about his issues."
Burt looked out the window as a truck pulled up. "Uh, Kurt?"
"Yes?" Kurt replaced the jacket and adjusted his scarf.
"He's wearing a tie."
Burt waited anxiously in the hallway. Kurt had been as good as his word, and while Burt couldn't see him from the window, the Karofsky boy's truck was still in the driveway, so they had to still be on the stairs.
A weird thump against the door got his attention. Burt threw it open in a panic.
As the door swung open, both Kurt and the other kid stumbled inside and fell, eyes closed and mouths attached.
"Kurt! What the hell?!"
Karofsky pried his lips off of Kurt's and looked up from where he lay on top of Burt's kid. "Uh. Nice to see you again, Mr. Hummel." He looked down at Kurt and blinked like he was surprised to see the smaller boy there.
"Hi, Dad," Kurt attempted to smile, even though his hands were still fisted in Karosfky's shirt possessively. "We were just..discussing David's wardrobe."
Burt gawked. "You can discuss his clothes without your tongue down his throat! And since when is it David? And..and...WHAT THE HELL, KURT?"
Twenty minutes later, after having googled "Stockholm Syndrome," called the weird guidance counselor from the school to request a few helpful pamphlets (Bad Boys Are No Good, Dating Your Stalker: He Always Knows What to Get You!, and Emotional Breakdowns: Best Done in Private), and threatened Karofsky with life, limb, and calls to his parents, Burt let his kid go back out the door with the football player.
And then he went and had a beer and stared at the soothing colors of the ceiling for a while.
Things weren't going too smoothly in the car, regardless of the fact that they had to pull over twice so they could yell at each other for a minute before suddenly having to disentangle Kurt's tongue from Karofsky's.
A minor skirmish over where they were going to dinner occurred, which was resolved when Dave threw his hands up in the air and proclaimed Kurt the master of dinner, for fuck's sake, it's not like there are many options, god, do you at least like Chinese?
Kurt was fairly sure they had both gone completely insane and this was all a mass hallucination brought on by inhaling too much hairspray.
David disagreed, and insisted that they had been kidnapped by aliens.
Dave told Kurt he looked nice.
Kurt told Dave he looked like his mother dressed him.
Dave said that Kurt was a pansy-ass nancy-boy, and Kurt accused Dave of having watched entirely too much Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but by then, thank god, they had gotten to the restaurant, where both boys ended up staring into their chicken feet salads for long moments.
"What the hell are we doing here, Karofsky?" Kurt asked abruptly, smoothing his napkin over one bent knee. "Last I checked, you were still so deep in the closet you could see Russia from your house."
Karofsky suspiciously prodded a chicken foot with his fork and sighed. "Fuck if I know. Az spent over an hour on the phone with me today trying to assess if I'd been hit in the head too many times at practice." He speared a piece of lettuce. "My parents sat me down and had a long talk with me about consequences and "over-identifying with the victim" or some such crap, and then my mom slipped me a condom and told me 'anal is more fun' and oh my god, I still want to bleach my brain." He twitched in revulsion. "My sister just asked me if you wore dresses."
Kurt closed his eyes and tried to sort through the collection of information handed to him. "What did you say?"
"To my sister? I don't know, something about seeing you in a skirt once."
Kurt shook his head, "No. To..any of it. To Azimo, to your parents, to..your mother gave you a condom?"
"Ribbed for her pleasure. Only you're a him."
"Yeah." They stared at each other for a long minute, not even noticing the waitress giving Kurt flirtatious looks. "So...you're gay? Like, officially?"
Dave squirmed in his seat. "I guess? I mean, the whole team and half the town heard me ask you out. And I seriously didn't mind the whole thing where you had your tongue in my mouth. You kinda taste like strawberries."
"It's lip balm, not lipstick," Kurt said automatically.
Dave blinked. "Oh..kay? Whatever, I liked it." He suddenly became very interested in drenching his lo mein in soy sauce. "Besides, school kind of sucks without your weird outfits. Nothing good to look at."
"You regularly looked at me?" Kurt raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. "I thought I made your eyes tired. Are you blushing?"
Dave was definitely blushing. "No, and shut up, and are you dating that Blaine kid?"
Kurt sighed and poked at his rice. "No. He's pretty and wonderful and an amazing singer, but he has no sense of style and can honestly be kind of a jerk sometimes."
"So..you're here with me instead." Dave's face was very bland. "Because I have fabulous style and I've never ever been a jerk."
"Ha ha," Kurt mocked. "It's different. Besides, I don't even like you. I think. Though I might have noticed how you fill out your polo shirts once in a while. Before you started throwing slushies at me, anyway." Kurt busied himself with eating.
Dave was grinning as he stole a forkful of Kurt's moo goo gai pan.
Amidst a few more disagreements about who was paying for dinner ("Karofsky, don't even think this will get you into my pants."), who was paying for the movie ("Dude, if you don't shut up about the calories in popcorn I'm going to order the biggest tub I can get and bathe in it."), and what time Kurt needed to be home ("My dad owns a welding torch and he isn't afraid to use it."), they ended up back on the Hummel's front porch.
Dave was enough of a gentlemen to walk Kurt to the door. Or maybe he was just distracted by Kurt's compelling argument on why blue eye shadow should be illegal, but whatever. There they were, staring at each other again. Neither of them sure what the hell had gone on that night, although they both had no idea what movie they had seen and it's possible that Dave had his hand tucked into Kurt's back pocket at some point.
"So," Dave said awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. "Can I..call you later?" He shoved his hands in his pockets and studied the door behind Kurt.
Kurt tugged at the ends of his jacket. "I..yes. Yes." He nodded firmly. "But if it ends up all over the boy's bathroom at McKinley, it better have really explicit details of how amazing in bed I am."
Dave stared for a second. "Right. You. Hot sex. Yes," he said a little hazily. He rubbed his face with one hand and shook his head. "Can I kiss you again?"
Kurt sniffed disdainfully. "Can you do it without destroying my hairstyle this time?"
"You're such a princess, Hummel."
"Shut up and make out with me, David. We have ten minutes 'til my dad gets impatient, and you need to have your hands off my ass by then."
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