Story: Pudding [Where the Proof Is]

Fandom: Glee
Author: ibshafer
Rating: PG-13 (or R for some hot kissing?)
Character: Kurt, Dave

Disclaimer: I don't own these people, they own themselves and are just nice enough to let me spin them around the page now and then.

Summary: Their first PFLAG meeting is over and David is still convinced he's not gay…

Warning: Up to BTW

Length: 2,243

A/N: This is another golden nugget from the fabulous mind of merlenhiver. ("Kurt should offer to kiss David to prove to him he's gay…") The next brilliant idea you get, babe – you must write yourself. Check out her stunning fic, "Speechless" here: ..

A/N#2: See my Glee fic archive . (Check latest journal entry for most recent updates.)

Pudding (Where the Proof Is…)


With the meeting adjourned, the room began to empty.

Kurt had been reasonably satisfied with the turn out, considering the 11th hour scheduling change. Principal Figgins had been extremely supportive of Kurt ("and David")'s wish to start a school-based chapter of PFLAG, but the availability of the McKinley conference room, what with school board elections and end-of-year planning committees for graduation, prom, and various fund raisers, was very tight right now, so when there was a last minute cancellation, they grabbed it.

Well, Kurt did the grabbing. David just nodded, eyes glazed over and jaw set.

He continued to nod, glassy-eyed, as Kurt spun out plans for refreshments and pamphlets, speaking up only to question whether it was really necessary to go to "all this trouble" and looking suitably cowed when Kurt responded with a haughty "of course it is!"

Kurt didn't care if David was invested in this – he just needed him to be there. If Kurt and the other gay kids at McKinley were going to have any peace of mind, if David, Gaga help him, was going to come to turns with himself, thereby giving the other gays kids (and the rest of McKinley), that piece of mind, then there were things his mid-western, middle-of-nowhere, Neanderthal brain needed to be exposed to. He needed to see that normal people, normal, rational humanbeings, accepted gay kids. He needed to see that he, David, was the freak, not the kids he tormented, gay, straight, nerd, or otherwise.

This was all part of David's education.

It remained to be seen what he got out of it.

It hadn't been a big turn out, but at least it wasn't just him and David. Kurt had managed to procure a great speaker from a neighboring PFLAG chapter for the next meeting, and a few of tonight's attendees had promised to bring parentals and friends next time, so he knew membership would only get better from here on out.

It also seemed like the Bully Whips, the anti-bullying component of Santana's Dave Karofsky Blackmail Plan, was actually having an impact, a positive one, on the school's beleaguered, creating an atmosphere where they could feel safe admitting who they were, whatever that might be, to their classmates; the threat of torment was lifting. Kurt had been pleased and surprised with the attendees, pleased to learn he (and David) weren't the only gay kids at the school, and pleased to learn there were kids who were supportive even if they weren't gay themselves.

And of course the glee club had come.

Missing, though, had been Kurt's parents (Burt had told Kurt if he weren't standing at the curb at 6 PM sharp for pick up, he would be charging through the halls with a pick axe at 6:01…) and, incredibly, his boyfriend, of all people. He'd understood that a Warbler performance at hospice facility took precedence over his little meeting, but he would have felt…well, more supported if Blaine had, for once, ceded the solo to someone else, let someone else have the mike for change, and been there by his side. It wasn't like he needed protection from anyone anymore – David or anyone else. (Santana, in a tight white mini skirt, red satin Bully Whips jacket, and jauntily tilted red beret saw to that!) It was just that this was something important he would have liked to share with the boy he loved…

Mercedes had wanted to stay to help clean up afterwards, but Kurt had waved her on, knowing her mom and dad were waiting for her for some family function. Rachel had offered as well, but her dads, who had been fabulous enough to bring a large brie en croute, were taking her out for a night of sushi and "Mame!" at the old restored movie house downtown.

Finn, Puck, and Sam had been hovering menacingly, but when their good intentions deteriorated into juvenile glaring (at David) and grape tossing (at each other), Kurt had banished them from the room.

Which was why, as the clock on the wall ticked to 5:30 and the last of the stragglers wandered out, Kurt was left in the conference room, alone – with David Karofsky.

David, for his part had been, well, if not exactly 'present' at the meeting, then at least 'accounted for,' anyway. He'd sat in the far corner watching the proceedings quietly, but folded in on himself, red letterman jacket pulled tightly around him as if to hermetically seal and protect him from whatever gay vibes there might be floating through the air. Kurt had wanted to tell him it was too late for that, but sensed that maybe that was part of why David was so focused on closing himself off now; he was scared because he was coming to terms with who he was.

He didn't feel responsible to David, he knew he didn't owe his bully anything, but as a human being, how could he not be aware of another's pain. How could he not want to help alleviate that?

And though he would never have admitted this to anyone, not Blaine, not Mercedes and Rachel, and most certainly not to David himself, in spite of everything David Karofsky had done to him, in spite of that, there was a small part of Kurt that was…well, 'flattered' was definitely the wrong, wrong word, but he was too tired to come up with anything else right now. David had been the first boy to respond to him, granted in the most heinous fashion imaginable, but even though David had fought against that response, even though he'd clearly hated both Kurt and himself for that response, he'd still felt it.At its core, David's desires hadn't been confused, setting aside the horrible ways in which he'd expressed them; David hadn't been able to leave Kurt alone. (Unlike someone who was not present tonight who had spent countless hours with Kurt for months, somehow oblivious to his charms until…well, Kurt didn't want to think about what would have happened had Pavarotti not passed on.)

In a supremely screwed up way, and even alone in the confines of his own thoughts, Kurt needed to reiterate how supremely screwed up it had been, David Karofsky was the first boy, the first…man, to affirm Kurt's…appeal. David's response had been a sexual one, though he'd fought against it, though he'd tortured Kurt for it. For a young, untested homosexual boy lost in the middle-American wilderness of Ohio, following his own muse and inspiration, with only his mirror and the catcalls of his classmates to provide him with feedback, for all he'd known he could have been completely lacking in any kind of appeal at all.

That was why he now harbored the tiniest of tiny soft spots for the behemoth that had populated his nightmares.

Said behemoth was still sitting in the corner refining the glassy-eyed, lock-jawed look he'd made so much use of of late.

Biting his lip, Kurt got started on the clean-up.

Dragging a big black plastic bag behind him, Kurt moved around the table, collecting Styrofoam cups and orange rinds. "Are you going to help me, David," he asked, snarky, but not too. He bent to pick up a dropped napkin from the floor, and then a few of Finn and Puck's grapes that had gathered under the line of chairs against the wall, and when he finally straightened up again, he realized he suddenly had David's attention

Turning away quickly so that David wouldn't see the heat in his cheeks, trying to convince himself that he hadn't seen a similar hue in David's as the behemoth had fumbled with this jacket for some reason, Kurt busied himself closing up soda bottles on the refreshment table. "This was your meeting, too, you know. You're not seriously going to just sit there while I clean up the entire room, are you?"

Muttering, "fine, fine" David started to gather up discarded pamphlets, eyes goggling as he read the titles of one or two, to which Kurt only barely suppressed a smirk. If it weren't so tragic, this would seriously have been fun – tormenting his tormentor.

But this whole situation actually was tragic; Kurt was acutely aware of the current statistics on suicide and self-abuse amongst closeted gay teens. No matter what he'd done, he didn't want that for David. He didn't want that for anyone.

"Did you get anything out of the meeting, David," Kurt asked, setting aside the soda bottles for a second, watching David's face closely.

David looked at him, eyebrows arched, some of the old snark evident in his expression. "You mean, like 'Gay? Yay!'?" Rolling his eyes, he just shrugged.

Angry, Kurt stomped his booted foot on the floor. "Damnit, David! This was supposed to help you deal with what you're going through, help you to—"

"'Nothing to help with, Fancy," he growled. "I'm not gay!"

Kurt hadn't realized how desperate he'd been to help David, how close he'd already come to being at his wit's end, until he was storming across the room, grabbing David by the lapels of this letterman, and pulling David's stunned face to his.

There was the briefest, tiniesthintresistance, and then David's hands were buried in Kurt's hair, lips and tongue in ardent worship of Kurt's own, his breath ragged in his chest and the softest whimper of surrender trapped in the back of his throat.

His own moans swallowed by the fury, Kurt just held on for dear life, fingers curled in soft red wool, head reeling and heart hammering away in his chest, until David spent himself, returned to his senses, and pulled away.

He stood breathing heavily, mouth open in shock, barely a foot away.

Struggling to regain his own breath, Kurt straightened himself, folded his arms across his chest, and said as evenly as he could manage, "Still think you're not gay, David?"

David didn't respond, but the way he dropped himself into the nearest chair spoke volumes.

Turning away quickly, as much to hide how affected he'd been by what he'd just done, as to get the image of a flushed and painfully confused David Karofsky out of his sight, Kurt glanced at his watch, grateful for the time.

"Y-you'll have to finish the rest of this on your own, David," he said without turning around, hoping David hadn't heard his voice catch just then. "If I'm not at the curb out front in two minutes, my dad will be in here swinging garden tools at you…"

He heard David grunt a response and he was all set to sprint out of there, when he stopped to pull a card from his wallet and drop it on the table.

"If you…if you need to talk tonight or over the weekend, David, my cell and email are right there." He took a deep breath, willing the calm into his voice. "It's going to be okay, you hear me. You're going to be just fine." He resisted the urge to turn around and look, afraid his resolve would melt and he'd never be able to leave.

"I'll talk to you later," he said softly, stepping out of the room, grateful for the shock

of cool air in the hallway, but he only made it a few feet before he spun on his heel and returned to the room.

David hadn't moved an inch.

Kurt walked to where he sat and held out his hand.

"C'mon, let's get out of here." Dave looked up, perhaps even more confused, though at least his breathing had slowed. "I'll get my dad to take us to dinner. He'll love it." Kurt's eyes crinkled as he winked. "You like Mexican?"

"S-sure," David mumbled, standing up on his own.

"Good," Kurt grinned. "I need a shrimp enchilada in the worst way."

David still seemed a little shell-shocked, which was completely understandable, but he was trying, that much was clear.

"W-what about the room," David said, finding his book bag in the corner and shouldering it.

Kurt surveyed the damage, then headed for the door.

"Not a big deal. I'll come back after dinner and finish up." He gave David a sideways glance. "You could come and help me."

David managed a half smile, ducking his head once. "I-I will."

They walked the last stretch of hallway in silence.

Kurt didn't know if a crisis had been averted here, he still didn't know David well enough to know what he was capable of, even after everything David had put him through, but Kurt was grateful to his conscience, or his inner voice, or Gaga, for cryin' out loud, that he'd gone back in there and dragged David out of that conference room.

Whatever had happened in the past, whatever he'd have to deal with now when his father saw David ('Guess who's coming to dinner?'), he knew that the same sense of right that kept him from outing David when he'd had his chance, was the same thing that kept him from abandoning him now.

And he couldn't help feeling as though David had turned a corner tonight.

'He sure as hell has improved his…skills,' Kurt thought breathlessly, his cheeks coloring again.

He was still confused and adjusting, but Kurt felt certain David would be able to come Out at some point soon.

Now he just had to convince his dad of that…