Story: Redemption – Part 6/6
Chapter: Roses Redux
Fandom: Glee
Author: ibshafer
Rating: PG-13 – language (David's potty mouth…)
Character/Pairing: Kurt/Karofsky
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: Redemption finally comes for Dave Karofsky…
Warnings: spoilers for NBK and after
A/N: The author does not in any way condone bullying or any form of aggression towards homosexuals, or anyone else, for that matter.
A/N#2: The pivotal scene in this story was actually inspired by something I was fortunate enough to witness. Last spring, during a village-wide yard sale in the tiny upstate New York hamlet my sister lives in, a pair of preteen boys came walking down the street. Unlike everyone else, gripped by yard-sale fever, these two were not shopping, not lingering at the tables, not poking through the boxes of toys and games and dishes like everyone else. The boys, who I'd say were probably about twelve or thirteen, were walking very purposely down the block. They didn't interact with anyone and they had no interest in the tables of treasure they were passing; they seemed entirely focused on the act of walking from one end of the block to the other. These two boys were dressed in typical teen attire – cargo pants and gaming logo t-shirts – and they might have gone unnoticed in this very typical gathering of people, but for one thing; they were holding hands. I stood back and watched them, completely taken by what seemed to me to be an act of utter courage and defiance; as though the boys had made a pact to make this very public statement, together, in a place where the most people would witness it, to a cross-section of their community (not just school, not just the mall, not just church). There was something very thrilling and sweet to this act. I imagined their giddiness as they worked up the courage to round that corner and take each other's hands, and when they reached the end of the block and disappeared from view, I imagined them giggling and running the rest of the way back to one of their houses, tripping up the stairs to the bedroom to celebrate by making out for a few minutes before flipping the Xbox back on and picking up where they'd left off, distracting themselves for a while from whatever shit storm may have been to follow when the phone started ringing or parents stormed home. I thought these two boys incredible brave, and incredibly sweet. I have not been able to get them, and their courageous march down that small-town street, out of my head and I'm happy now to be able to share their story with all of you – and with Dave and Kurt. –ibs
[Note: I'm posting this chapter in its entirety because of some serious rewriting of the bits I'd already posted. I'd also like to take this opportunity to thank you all for receiving this series so well – you've made me want to write it and to write more. I can't thank you guys enough for all your comments and support, for the hits and favorites and alerts and for really making me feel like you were reading and enjoying it. By way of thanks, I'll be writing a bonus chapter in the coming weeks; pure post-Redemption PWP. Stay tuned…]
Redemption: Roses Redux
- ibshafer
"You ready?" Kurt squeezed Dave's hand.
"As I'll ever be." Dave didn't sound so sure.
Kurt was feeling sick himself, actually, but they'd been planning this for a week now and everyone was already in place – no matter how worried he was, this "show" was going on whether either of them was ready or not.
I must be scared; not even the showbiz metaphors are helping.
Dave's hand was unnaturally cold as he rubbed slow circles in Kurt's palm with a thumb, and when Kurt looked up at him, Dave smiled a tentative smile at him that was so heartbreakingly beautiful that Kurt almost started to cry. Though he was getting better at, Dave Karofsky had never been known for having a way with words, but this time, his expression said it all.
'I'm here with you. It's gonna be okay.'
Trying to fathom how Dave could be so reassuring when he had more at stake here than Kurt did, Kurt smiled and nodded in response, suddenly feeling something warm and expansive in the middle of his chest.
Wow…
I-I kind of love you, Dave Karosfky.
He'd known, of course, how Dave felt about him since that fateful night in the Dalton parking lot two months ago.
'"I love you… I just wanted to tell you that. I don't expect anything from you, I just wanted you to know…"'
And now…now he knew what that felt like.
Under different circumstances, Kurt would have just blurted it out right then – Kurt was a blurter, afterall – but they had enough on their plate right now as it was.
Now was for revelations of a slightly different, though not wholly unrelated, nature.
If we make it through this day without any broken bones, it's the first thing I'm going to tell him…
They'd parked on the street because it gave them a wider vantage point to watch the incoming student body. When the steady stream had slowed to a trickle, they would make their move.
In the meantime, they sat in the relative safety of Kurt's SUV, with its handy shaded windows, which was doubly good because if the jocks, Neanderthals like Azimio and Taylor, could see the way the veins in Dave's forehead were throbbing, they would have been all over him, like sharks after that drop of blood in the water…
Bravado to the contrary, Dave was nervous as hell.
He had every reason to be.
What they were about to do would change the course of his life – forever. No more hiding behind his jock persona, no more covering up who he really was with tossed slushies and threats of the Fury; the bully everyone hated and feared was about to exit stage whatever.
McKinnley High was about to meet the real Dave Karofsky for the first time…
Kurt had been protecting Dave's secret since that fateful day in the Principal's office. Despite the decidedly dramatic cast to their plan, it actually hadn't been Kurt's idea at all; no, this had all been Dave's idea…
No one can tell someone else when it's Time. It's a personal decision they have to make for themselves. Kurt had been prepared to keep his secret boyfriend – and Dave's secret – hidden until Dave was ready to reveal it. He was used to avoiding contact with "Karofsky" at school; it'd be harder now, because his natural inclination, especially after last weekend, was to touch Dave as much as possible, but Kurt was willing to do it, to bite his lip and steer clear of Dave until Dave was Ready, however long that took.
So, on the second morning of their first real weekend together, when Dave had announced, after a very erotic session of breakfast in bed, wherein actual breakfast was in fact consumed (following which they'd spent a good thirty minutes scrubbing maple syrup out of his sheets, but it'd been so worth it…), that he wanted everyone, and he meant Everyone, to Know, Kurt couldn't have been happier.
Of course, that happiness was short-lived, as they began to run down the list of just Who that Everyone entailed and just How involved their Plan would have to be, but Kurt was a planner (which meant he thrived on the details) and Dave was a bulldog (which meant he never gave up or let go), and somehow here they were, a scant week later, ready to set that plan in motion.
Kurt squeezed the big hand that engulfed his and looked up at this boy that he, apparently, loved.
"Do you trust me," Kurt asked, flushed and, though they'd been sitting motionless for half and hour, a little out of breath.
Dave's cheeks colored in response. "I was just about to ask you the same thing."
For some reason, everything they said or did these days brought back memories of the past two months, as though each event, each word, were adding to some greater whole; to the story of Kurt and Dave.
'"Oh, I'm pretty sure I can't trust you…"'
"…Only about as far as I could throw you, Dave" Kurt said and Dave's eyes crinkled at the remembered reference.
'"at, what, 250, I'm thinking I couldn't throw you too far…"'
With one last squeeze, Dave dropped Kurt's hand and nodded towards the school. "What do you say we do this?"
Locking the car, they walked across the parking lot.
…to McKinley…
[SECTION BREAK]
It had been a week full of Conversations, each more difficult than the last, but they had a plan, a series of plans, really, all leading up to the big reveal (or "the Show", as Kurt had come to call it), and while it was all scary and, at times, all screamy, it was also all necessary.
It had taken some doing and it had not been fun, but everyone was on board, which was a huge relief because if they were going to pull this off, they were going to need everyone's help.
It was time for Kurt to come back to McKinley. It was time for Dave to come out of that giant Narnia-sized closet he'd been hiding in.
And it was time for them, as a Them, to come out of yet another closet, the one that let the people they loved, the people they knew, …and the people they expected to have problems with them as a Them, know that they were no longer Dave Karofsky, hockey/football playing badass and Fury-ous homo-bullying bully, and Kurt Hummel, trend-setting style-maven and all-singing, all-dancing Queer Boy, but were now just Dave and Kurt, hand-holding, lunchroom sitting, friends slash lovers – whether anyone freaking liked it or not.
[SECTION BREAK]
The walk from the car to the building had been calm, in the same way that that pure moment of vacuum-like stillness preceding a hurricane was calm – it gave them the chance to bolster themselves, but neither was delusional enough to doubt the shit storm to come.
Having made the walk from the parking lot and climbed the stairs into the school, they were now perched on the top step, balanced on the precipice; each laid a hand on the heavy wooden door before them and gathered themselves for what was to come.
On the walk up, Kurt's heart had been beating so fast he thought it might just leap out of his chest and beat them inside and it had taken everything he had not to run back to the car or, failing that, to grab Dave's big warm hand for strength.
But that wasn't in the script and though Kurt liked to improvise as much as the next scene-stealer, he didn't want to ruin the show. They had planned this out too carefully. Any deviation could result in chaos and, realistically, broken bones…
The one consolation he could draw from the now imminent start of the Show was that he wouldn't have to resist that last desperate impulse anymore. The urge to grab Dave's hand was edging towards extreme.
"You okay?"
He twitched at the sound of Dave's voice then turned to find Dave smiling at him, again, his own angst taking a backseat to his concern for Kurt.
You're a good boyfriend, Dave Karofsky…
And because he was tired of keeping his internal monologue…internal, he smiled shakily, and repeated it aloud.
"You're a good boyfriend, Dave Karofsky," he said, softly, pleased when he saw Dave's cheeks flush a beautiful rose; his own cheeks burned. "I want to kiss you so badly right now, I can't stand it."
Embarrassed, but covering his obvious pleasure with a schoolboy's rolled eyes, Dave just shook his head.
"You're gonna have to wait on that one for a bit, 'K? We've got a, you know, a show to do," he said, clearly unaccustomed to entertainment metaphors. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he smiled, holding out his hand.
Finally, his hand.
"Ready?"
Fighting back tears – at the emotion, at the moment – Kurt nodded, bit his lip, and took his boyfriend's hand…
[SECTION BREAK]
At first, nothing happened.
No one seemed to notice, caught up as they were in the business of trading coats for books, of catching up on the weekend's news, on being in their own lives and their own heads, but one-by-one, like a pinball bouncing through its tilted terrain, faces looked up and saw them passing by, and awareness (confusion, shock, amusement) crisscrossed the narrow hallway, spread quickly by elbow jabs and whispered voices.
He was able to pick up a few comments as they moved down the hall. Most were stunned ("Karofsky and Hummel are holding hands?", "WTF, dude? I thought he hated Hummel…"), some were clearly fangirls, ("Awwww, they're so cute…"), and others had very definite opinions they made no attempt to keep to themselves, ("Fuck, that's disgusting!" "…knew Hummel was a fag, but Karofsky? Shit!").
Once or twice, Kurt felt the panic rising in him and Dave, sensing that tremor through their joined hands, squeezed tighter. When Kurt looked his way, he winked.
As they made their way down the hall, the crowd parting a bit in stupefied awe at the inexplicable incongruity of bully and victim, lion and lamb, strolling hand-in-hand for all to see, they began to collect followers.
At first, it was just strategically placed glee club members – Finn, Mercedes, and Rachel stepping out from the choir room, Brit pushing Artie's wheelchair out of one of the bio labs – all their faces defiant and flushed with the power of solidarity – but as their glee numbers grew, they began to draw more random followers: those curious about how this aberrant relationship had come to be; those unsure how to respond except that they were offended; those of morbid curiosity, like rubber neckers driving past an accident, hoping to see something grisly first hand…
Call it a twist of fate, call it a climactic plot device, but their destination, the setting for the last act of the Show, Kurt's locker, was at the far end of the long hallway; maximum exposure, maximum dramatic effect.
Kurt was trembling so hard already he didn't know how he'd make it that far.
At least we won't have to do this more than once…
Anyone who wasn't there now to see them would surely get tweeted, IM'd, or emailed before too long. He'd seen at least one person hold up a phone as they walked past; he was fairly certain they'd be able to watch their "performance" on YouTube when they got home from school…
As they swept through the school, holding each other's hands like a lifeline, Kurt struggled to maintain his cool, taking his cues from Dave who exuded a calm Kurt would not have thought him capable of before today.
Calm and happy…
He allowed himself the briefest moment of satisfaction. The old Dave hadn't been a happy individual, not like New Dave, and Kurt, who was just as happy and just as surprised to be so, couldn't help but take a little credit for it.
He blushed for a moment as the triple-X reel in his head started to unspool unbidden, but then someone's hissed "Get a room!" brought him back to the present, giving him even more to be flushed about; had his face given him away or had it just been a general comment upon seeing two gay boys holding hands?
A gentle hand tug from Dave and an inquiry via raised-eyebrow – Kurt's response a sheepish grin and a shrug – and he once again had control of his panic. Dave was like that, an anchor, a rock; quite the change from his days as a bomb-waiting-to-go-off. Kurt felt the warm spot in his chest start to spin, once again aware of how very much he loved this boy.
We're good for each other…
Walking down the hallway, a studied attempt at oblivious – whatever fear or exhilaration that were feeling could not yet show – Kurt worked to master this most difficult role, one that Dave, game face in place, seemed to have down pat.
He knew darn well, though, that the couple hundred feet they'd traversed had been easy; they hadn't passed the locker room yet…
[SECTION BREAK]
In the end, it was as bad as they'd expected…
One minute, they were holding hands and thinking that perhaps they'd underestimated the jocks, the next, he was being torn away from Dave, his head and shoulders making painful and familiar contact with the bank of lockers, one of which just happened to be his own.
At this point, nearly the entire student body – all that would fit, anyway – was crammed into this stretch of hallway, and from the gathered crowd there came cruel laughter and cat calls, and from their friends, admonishments and angry cries.
And much, much too close to his, the angry grimacing face of Azimio Adams.
"What the fuck are you doing with my boy, Hummel?" Azimio spat out, disgust on his face as he looked from Kurt to his 'boy'. "What'd I tell you about trying to infect us with your gay?"
"You're kidding, right? What self-respecting homosexual would want to infect you with, what you so eloquently put, their "gay"? You're not exactly the stuff that boys' dreams are made of, you know…"
That's what he meant to say, anyway.
Before he could even get the first word out, Dave had grabbed the linebacker by the shoulders and swung him back around until Az's broad back had made rattling contact with the bank of metal lockers.
"Keep your hands off of him, Azimio!" There was something like pain in Dave's voice, even as his brute strength kept the linebacker pressed up against the wall of lockers, and it saddened Kurt to realize that Dave had clearly been hoping Az would surprise them; that he would accept their relationship – and this new incarnation of Dave Karofsky.
"You don't fucking touch him, you hear me?" Dave leaned forward, anger and menace in his eyes. "You don't lay a hand on him! You got a problem, you deal with me!"
For his part, Az seemed unruffled by Dave's display of bravado; what he really seemed was disgusted. He raked his gaze, cold eyes conveying that disgust, over Kurt, then back at his now former friend, a friend who still had his forearm braced against Az's chest, holding him against the lockers.
"Okay," Az said evenly and then, with his own explosion of strength, he freed himself from Dave's hold, turning the tables quickly, slamming Dave against the wall. Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw his step-brother being held back by Puck and Mike Chang, and he knew Dave must have warned them all; this was his fight, not Finn's, not anyone else's. "Okay," Az repeated, forearm against David's throat. "You wanna tell me why you were holding that fag's hand, then?"
All semblance of calm control was gone and Kurt could almost see Dave's eyes glowing in anger. Kurt wanted to jump on that asshole's back, claw at his eyes, kick him in the nuts, anything to get him off of Dave, but Dave had warned him this would happen and he'd made Kurt swear he wouldn't get into the fight. "'You get hurt, Kurt, and I'm not gonna be able to control myself. That's not gonna be good for either of us, you understand?"' Kurt had been reluctant, but he'd agreed; Dave was dead serious – what choice did he have?
Now he regretted it bitterly, considered breaking his promise – Dave's face was too red for comfort! – but then he caught a glimpse of Dave's eyes over Az's massive shoulders, whites showing all around, and fixed, not on his attacker, but on Kurt. A minute headshake and what Kurt could swear was the tiniest wink – and Az was propelled across the room, the crowd alone keeping his ass from making contact with the worn floor tile.
"That 'fag' is my boyfriend and I'll hold his hand whenever I fucking want to," he spat out, taking Kurt's hand again, gently in spite of his fierce anger. "If you don't like it, it's too fucking bad." He raked his gaze over the crowd as if to challenge anyone else who might have had a problem, and then, though Kurt could have sworn they'd decided against it, he pulled Kurt to him, ran a shaking hand along his cheek, and kissed him.
It was brief, and Kurt was so numb from the fight he could barely feel it, at least, not on his lips, but the impact on the crowd was immediate.
Someone gasped and a few fangirls let out a love struck 'awwww…'; there were more cat calls, this time clearly in support; some laughter, directed at the sputtering Azimio who spat at the floor in their general direction, then stomped away, a few straggling minions trailing after him; and then their friends and supporters – glee and school alike – were pressing forward to shake hands and pat backs.
The outpouring of support, in particular from the voiceless bullied masses, was heartwarming and exhilarating, and arms around his boyfriend, a grinning Kurt happily considered the Show's performance a success.
The bell was ringing for classes and people were starting to move on, but though he had yet to open his locker to grab his books, Dave was nonetheless pulling him, not toward his first period class, but toward the auditorium.
"Where are we going," he asked in utter confusion, propelled by Dave's big hand and the press of the crowd at their backs, all also heading toward the auditorium.
"Show's not over yet," Dave called, glancing back over his shoulder, smile sweet, freed.
"What are you talking about? That was the Show," he said, pointing behind them with his chin.
"Uh-uh." There was mischief in Dave's eyes. "There's one more act."
Kurt didn't get to ask just what in hell Dave was up to, because they were in the auditorium now, their friends and converted classmates filing in behind them.
"What's going on," he asked, his confusion deepening. The stage was lit and their regular accompanist, Brad, as well as several of the usual glee band members, stood at the ready.
He felt a sudden rush of warmth in his chest; were his friends going to perform for him? It was his first day back at McKinley after all those months at Dalton.
"Is New Directions doing a number for me?"
Why aren't any of them on stage?
Dave finally turned around to look at him directly and when he did, Kurt could see his face blazing red.
"Not New Directions, Kurt…" he said, softly, and then, instead of finishing the sentence, he let go of Kurt's hand, walked down the aisle, and hopped onto the stage…
Two seconds later, Mercedes and Rachel were with him, Rachel hugging him from behind. "Sit tight, babe," Mercedes said, kissing his cheek. "He's been working on this for a week."
"He what," Kurt shrieked, swinging around to look back at the stage.
God, look at him!
Dave had survived locker-tossing and belligerent ranting in the hallway, barely breaking a sweat, but up on stage, under those lights, with the whole school crowded into the aisles and filling the seats, he looked as pale as a ghost.
He wanted to run on stage and pull Dave into the wings – partly to wrap his arms around him and kiss him like no tomorrow, partly to get that stricken look of utter panic off his gorgeous, ruddy face – but now Finn was there with a hand on his arm, and even Mr. Schuester seemed in on it.
"Relax, Kurt," Schue said gently. "I've been working with him and I promise, he's gonna be fine."
He had no more time to fret, though, because Dave was nodding to Brad and the band was getting into position.
At the guitar's first mournful twang, the horns jumping in to accent the highs and the lows of the melody, Kurt felt the bottom drop out of his heart.
This was one of the songs Dave had brought to their time together, a deep, bluesy duet between music legends Elton John and Leon Russell, and it was actually Kurt's first real taste of the sound of blues, sad and deep and somehow darkly sexual, a sound he'd come to associate with David; a sound he'd come to love.
The first time Dave played this album for Kurt he had started with this cut though it was nearly the last on the disc, and upon hearing it, he remembered thinking how appropriate it was for them, he and Dave, though the song's sadness was transformed, for them, into the euphoric joy of their having discovered in time what was, for the singer, too late a realization.
He'd wondered if Dave had known the song when they'd had their first meeting in Cridersville; it echoed something he'd joked to Dave about Dave's somewhat lacking method of expressing himself...
'"You should have sent roses…"'
Now, listening to the band lay down the foundation for Dave's opening line, Kurt felt himself grinning like a fool and crying, all at the same time.
He'd never heard David sing before, but he loved him so much right now, he couldn't have cared less how he sounded, but when Dave opened his mouth – and recovered from his first, fleetingly faltering note – and he heard the rich tones and the power of him, he felt his heart soar even as he chastised himself for fantasizing about future duets. ('My boyfriend rocks!')
"'Are you standing outside? Looking up at the sky, cursing a wondering star. Well, if I were you, I'd throw rocks at the moon,'" Dave sang, panic subsiding as he settled into the sentiment of the slow melody, bolstered by the warmth of the piano and the slow, simmering drum support. They were starting a journey together, the singer and the audience, the serenader and serenadee, and Kurt shivered, getting on board, knowing the song well, though perhaps not its relation to their own story.
Dave was relaxed now, not studying his own hands or looking for the exits; he sought out and found Kurt in the crowd, right where he'd left him in the aisle, and with an arch of those sexy brows, he caught his eyes and held them. "'This cage round my heart…locked up what I meant to say, what I felt all along the way. Just wondering how come I couldn't take your breath away.'"
Oh!
He felt a sudden pain at the remembrance of things he'd said in anger, at the realization that he perhaps had some part in Dave's desperation and pain, in Dave's belief that someone like Kurt could never be attracted to someone like David Karofsky.
Kurt was crying full on now and Dave, perhaps seeing that from the stage, shook his head as he sang as if to tell him he needn't; to tell him it was all right.
Standing behind him now, Mercedes had thrown her arms his neck, hugging him tightly. "Aw, sweetie, it's okay… He needed to say all of this – he needed you to hear it, he needed everyone to hear it."
David's strong voice broke through the haze and nodding, taking Rachel's proffered tissue, he took a deep breath and listened.
"''Cause I never sent roses. I never did enough. I didn't know how to love you, though I loved you so much…'"
At this point, Kurt gave up on the tissues and just let the tears fall.
He thought about how much David had grown since their first real conversation (that didn't include homophobic slurs or shoulder slams) at "their" diner outside of town, how he'd banished is demons – the anger and confusion, the guilt of familial duty – and Kurt and done the same for his own, though the flashbacks and panic attacks had lingered for a while, and how they'd grown slowly together, realizing the things they had that brought them together were far stronger than those they had kept them apart, realizing, too, that love doesn't have a type, it just is, and he could scarcely believe that only three months had passed since that first, fateful epiphany, the night of Dave's confession in the dark and empty Dalton parking lot.
They'd come so far together to come right back here to the beginning, to the place where they both belonged. They'd overcome so much, they could overcome anything, and whatever the future held, their today was almost too wonderful to be believed.
And just then he knew that he couldn't stand still any longer.
As Dave sang about 'building no more walls,' Kurt flew down the aisle, leapt onto the stage, and caught his man in his own tiny version of a bear hug.
At that point, Dave lost the words and the band finished out the song on their own, but no one cared, least of all Kurt.
Arms still fast around him, standing on his toes so he could reach, he whispered, "You do take my breath away – every day. I love you, David Karofsky."
If the crowd cheered, which they did, and Schue and Ms. Pillsbury started directing everyone on to their first period classes, which they did, neither Dave nor Kurt noticed.
For now, they were in their own little world.
And this - this moment of pure understanding, pure redemption - was all that mattered.
Fini
"Are you standing outside? 'Cause I never sent roses Looking back on my life Cause I never sent roses
Looking up at the sky
Cursing a wondering star
Well If I were you
I'd throw rocks at the moon
I'd say damn you wherever you are
I don't know where to start
This cage 'round my heart
Locked up what I'd meant to say
What I felt all along the way
Just wondering how come I couldn't take your breath away
I never did enough
I didn't know how to love you
Though I loved you so much
When I should've sent roses
When you crossed my mind
For no other reason
Than the fact you were mine
I should've sent roses
Oh, if fate should decide
I could do it all over again
I'd build no more walls
I'd stay true and recall
The fragrance of you on the wind
You'll get better than me
Someone who can see
Right from the start
Give up all that you need
I'll slip away
Knowing I'm half the man I could be
I never did enough
I didn't know how to love you
Though I loved you so much
And I should have sent roses
When you crossed my mind
For no other reason
Than the fact you were mine
I should've sent roses
Yeah, I should've sent roses"
I Should Have Sent Roses
© Elton John/Bernie Taupin/Leon Russell (Oct 2009)
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