Rummaging through the fridge, mixing and matching different leftovers and coming up with a pizza roast beef concoction that would make Emeril Lagasse shit his pants and throw in the towel on all of humanity is not exactly how one Dave Karofsky pictures his ideal Thursday night.

And okay so up until recently his ideal Thursday night may have featured him and Azimio sitting on the couch, drinking beer and awkwardly readjusting their balls in that disgusting manner that every male does when they think you aren't looking and it makes you want to smack them upside the head and threaten to cut it off but he had low standards and that seemed like a pretty kickass night. That was of course until he was blessed with the lovely presence of one Kurt Hummel. Now his ideal Thursday night involved a little less clothes and adjusting of private parts for a very different reason. But as luck would have it yet again the only privates he's going to be touching tonight are his own.

With a drawn out sigh Dave plops himself down on the sofa and prepares for a night of boredom, bad tv, and oncoming heartburn. The house was empty, like always, and he found he couldn't remember the last time his parents had actually been home. Two weeks, maybe three. Sure he got the occasional text message or voicemail but telling a recorded message how your day went doesn't exactly stack up to the real thing.

He looks around the room, taking in the cold atmosphere. There was no family portraits, no school pictures through the years, no sporting trophies. It looked like a magazine cutout. Sterile. A small part of him always feels guilty for so much as sitting on the furniture. He didn't belong in this house, he belonged somewhere like the Hummel's. Where it didn't so much matter that couch and the chair weren't a matching set but it was who sat in them that made them important.

Over the years he's gotten use to being alone, but only a few days in the constant company of someone who truly cared for him had undone years of accepted solitude. The silence was too much with no one chatting about the latest D&G line and what colors would work best for his complexion. An inner debate was underway over whether or not it would make him seem to desperate if he picked up the phone and called Kurt 'just to talk' when the unexpected sound of the doorbell sent poor Dave about a foot in the air.

The resulting grin was in no way goofy or so Dave told himself as he practically sprinted towards the door. Certain that Kurt had mad telekinetic skills and picked up on his borderline desperation he flings open the door and comes face to face with the last person he wants to see.

Standing on his doorstep with a 12 pack and looking like he hadn't a care in the fucking world was none other than Azimio. And what happens next, well you can't exactly blame Dave for it seeing as he didn't even have time to so much as process this new information before the Fury developed a mind of its own and navigated straight into the nose of the other boy.

A/N: Short Chapter is extremely short but I feel guilty for not updating... That being said I have no idea what this is... I don't even... Anyways I guess I just felt the need to punch Azimio in the face before giving him a little redemption... So in conclusion: This chapter is insane, I am insane, someone please put me in a padded room before I litter your minds with even more non-sense.

I'm gonna go try to find my brain now...