Part V: Final Resolve

There wound up being only one fuzzy-soft spare blanket in the linen closet, and for added warmth, the boys had to resort to removing the comforters on their beds. They brought down their pillows as well, because there was no way they were leaving the fireplace front to sleep for the night; it would be too cold up in their beds.

The cabin was still and dark and quiet, and after about an hour, every last scrap of heat rose from the first story of the cabin, and the living room became the solely heated place, thanks to the fireplace. They could see their breath in just about every other part of the cabin. And without the furnace working, there was no hot water. But the gas stove works if they use matches to light the gas (the sparks being electric), and so they're able to continue making warm beverages as the hours pass.

"It's almost nine," Kurt remarks idly. "And I have a feeling I won't get to sleep any time soon. And I'm bored. My iPod ran out of power."

"That's because you've been listening to it almost nonstop for a while now, singing to yourself. It was amusing, but kinda selfish of you. I'm just glad my iPod had enough juice left in it to preoccupy myself for a while when you were off doing your own thing," Dave grunts, shrugging. He snuggles down into the blankets around his shoulders and scoots closer to the fireplace. "Shit. I think I need to replenish the wood supply soon. But that means I'll have to go into the ice-cold storage room in back. Dammit."

"Oh, boo-hoo. It'll only be cold for a few seconds and then you can come back to the warmth of the fire. Be a man, Karofsky," Kurt teases, his tone lighter than what it normally would be.

Dave whines. "Yeah, but I don't wanna move! I'm plenty comfy right here."

"You'll be less 'comfy' when the fire goes out, so get a move on, you big lug," Kurt replies, leaning over and freeing his hands from the confines of his own comforter to shove Dave to his feet.

"Fine, fine; I'm going, I'm going," Dave mutters, but he's secretly a little glad that Kurt initiated any sort of contact.

He shuffles into the entryway, gets on his shoes, and makes his way to the back hallway of the lower level of the cabin to open the door to a garage-like, cement-floored storage room. Icy-cold dry air tightens the skin on Dave's face and hands, and he shivers uncontrollably for a moment. Breathing out puffs of white, he quickly scampers over to the pile of wood, gathers a bunch in his hands a bit blindly, and quickly slams the door shut with his foot as he fast-walks back into the living room.

"Shit, shit, shit! That's so fucking cold!" he yelps, plopping down beside Kurt again and tosses the logs down into the metal rack where the singular leftover log rests.

"Can you at least try to control your language?" Kurt frowns. "You swear constantly, and I'm pretty sure your vocabulary is broader than that, given what you told me earlier about being in AP-level classes."

"I never said I was in AP English, though," David points out. "And besides, they're only words. Yeah, they sound sorta ugly, but they aren't going to bite. Lighten up, Hummel."

Kurt sighs. "Whatever." He glances away, careful not to watch Dave get into his blanket again, and acts like it's nothing when he reaches over and throws the fuzzy cream blanket from the closet over both of their laps. "To stay warmer," he mutters, and continues to keep his eyes away from Dave's face as he adds, "Want to play a verbal game? Something to keep us busy in this pathetic, technology-lacking situation?"

"…Um, I guess so? But you're not going to dare me to do weird things, are you?" the jock remarks suspiciously.

"Prada, no! I was going to suggest Twenty Questions, Two-Truths-And-A-Lie, or Would-You-Rather. A bit childish, admittedly, but it'll help us get to know each other better, and pass the time, and, well, it could be good for a laugh. You game?" Kurt answers, finally looking the other boy's way.

Dave grins cockily. "I'm game for whatever you can dish out, Hummel," he answers. "Let's do this. Would-You-Rather first. G'head and ask me something."

Kurt thinks for a moment, his hand on his mouth, a finger tapping his lips. "Hmm," he hums productively, "Okay. I've got one. Would you rather eat a bowl full of fried cockroaches or a bowl full of live earthworms?"

"Ah, man, that's disgusting!" Dave replies, laughing. "But I'll take the roaches, man. At least they're cooked."

"I would have taken the worms myself. The slime would probably go down easier; I wouldn't have to chew as much," Kurt ponders, smiling lightly. "Your turn."

"All right… would you rather, uh… have a giraffe you were feeding at the zoo spit up on your new shoes, or… have a shark bite a finger off while you were swimming in the ocean?" Dave says, purposely poking fun at Kurt's obsession with fashion.

"What? Of course I'd rather lose a finger! Although I would never wear new shoes to somewhere as filthy as a zoo. But still, this is all hypothetical, so… the finger. I still have nine more," Kurt shrugs.

"Dude, you're so messed up. You value shoes more than your own appendages? I mean, like… you can buy new shoes. You can't grow back a finger," Dave chuckles, bewildered a little.

"True, and getting giraffe-vomited shoes would hurt less, but, still… I like my shoes," Kurt returns meekly. "Anyway, it's my turn, and this time, I'm getting personal. Would you rather get a slushie in the face but have a boyfriend, or continue to lie about your sexuality and be boyfriend-less?"

"Now that's just fuckin' cruel, Kurt," Dave frowns, looking away. Biting his lip a little, his voice comes out shakily, "But… if I really could choose… I'd take the slushie facial and boyfriend combo. At least… at least slushies are permanent pains. It's just a moment of cold and some eye-burning-ness and then nothing, but lying… that's a long time."

Kurt leans in a little. "Then why don't you try for that, Karofsky? You might or might not even get a slushie in the face, but if you came out, you could have a boyfriend."

Dave snorts and glances back. "Yeah, right. Like who? The only gays I even know exist in Lima are you and your friend, and, okay, Santana Lopez, but I was talking about guys."

Kurt ignores the response, swallowing thickly. "It's your turn. Feel free to be just as cruel and ask something personal as well."

"I will, thanks. I like payback," the jock retorts. He exhales. "So. Would you rather…" He wants to ask, 'date me or your Dalton friend?' But Kurt already said that things had ended, for the most part, with Blaine after prom, and Dave isn't sure if my wants to elaborate on what's going on here. So, instead, he asks listlessly, "Have a guy who loves you unconditionally, but is a jerk, or have a guy who doesn't quite love you, but is really sweet? – This is actually a question I saw in a Would-You-Rather book at the bookstore once, when I was flipping through it. It seems like a good argument."

Kurt's brows meet in the middle as his mouth straightens into a line. This question… it sounds like it's a choice between Dave and Blaine. And as much as Kurt has lingering sentiments for Blaine… Dave is different. Kurt sees the athlete differently. And it makes the option seem… simpler.

"I'd rather have someone who loves me," Kurt says finally, softly. His face heats up minutely. "I mean… I like romance. It's cheesy, I know, but I do. I want… chemistry, and love, and all the things you would probably hear coming from a girl, so before you make a witty remark about how girly I am, Karofsky, I'll spare you the trouble and admit that yeah, it sounds stupid."

"…I wasn't going to say that it sounds stupid," Dave mumbles. He clears his throat and says louder, "Uh, that is… I agree. I probably come off as the sort who would screw someone without feelings attached, but really, that isn't me. I would probably end up hiding my feelings, but that doesn't mean I didn't have them. I'd want them in a relationship, 'cause otherwise it wouldn't mean anything, and what's the point in that?" he says firmly, and he dares to look Kurt directly in the eye.

Kurt feels something tremble within him, something like his resolve or his heart speeding up or maybe even his stomach churning, but the sensation is too quick for him to decipher which it is. Instead, he lets the feeling subside and pass, and he wets his dry lips in the frigid air as he scoots closer to the fire, incidentally closer to his former bully, and tries not to think about it in too much detail.

"That surprisingly sweet of you," Kurt whispers. "You're right; I wouldn't expect that."

"Well, you know," Dave mumbles, "People hold all sorts of surprises in them. 'Secrets' is the better-known term for it." He pauses, his eyes drifting to the dancing flames licking around the logs of wood. He draws his blanket tighter around himself. "And I probably have more of them than a lot of people."

"Why is that?" Kurt challenges, but not quite as defiantly as he had intended. It comes out sounding more curious than anything. "Why do you keep so much of yourself locked away?"

"Because it's easier," David answers tensely. "It's easier to pretend I'm a dumb jock, and it's easier to feel better about myself when I make someone else feel like how I do inside, and it's easier to come off as no one memorable or worthy of too much attention or inspection when I'm just an asshole no one likes. It's easier to deny that I sometimes watch musicals and old black and whites with my mom; it's easier to call someone a homo instead of myself; it's easier to play sports and get lost in the physicality of it all than get up on stand with all the confidence in the world and sing or dance. It's just… easier. It's not as simple, because sometimes it gets messy covering up what I really want all the time, but it's easier."

Kurt stares at Dave with the same awe he had before, the same feeling of newfound respect and understanding he had when they were talking before in the Jacuzzi.

"You look like you're about to cry, Karofsky," Kurt says gently, and leans over to peer into Dave's face.

Dave abruptly turns his head. "What? No way. The cold's just getting to me, that's all. Look, this weird situation means I opened up to you, sure, but don't think that means you can go tell Hudson all about what a big fucking pussy I am inside. If he knew, he'd pro'lly tell Puckerman, and we both know the dude would spill it to everybody. So what I just told you stays between us, got it? No one needs to know, not even my parents, 'cause if I want them to know, I'll tell them myself. Got it?" he threatens mildly, handling this better than he had the kiss all those months ago.

"Y-yeah, I've got it," Kurt murmurs, looking away. "Thanks for telling me, though. I don't know why, but you seem to trust me."

Dave snorts. "Trust. I hate that word and everything it stands for. Just what is trust, anyway? I don't get it. And I dunno if it's trust or if I just know you'll understand, but there isn't a deeper meaning to me telling you this shit."

"Yes there is," Kurt argues, and he looks at the other boy directly. "And you can pretend all you want that there isn't, but the fact remains that there is plenty of deeper meaning going on here."

"What makes you say that?" Dave comments testily, his chin lifting slightly.

"You like to forget, David, but you did kiss me. Passionately, I might add," Kurt reminds sharply, his eyes cutting through any thoughts Dave might have had.

Dave stiffens. "I never forget," he returns hotly, even more tense. He blinks a few times and finds an interesting spot in the fireplaces to stare at instead of looking into Kurt's lightly flushing face.

"I should have guessed," Kurt responds gingerly, moving in ever still, to the point where their knees are touching and he has his hand on the carpet between them. "But you know, it was earth-shattering for both of us, in different ways. I was shocked that the guys I hated, the guy who kept harassing me, actually was similar to me, and might even like me. And you… I can only imagine how it was for you."

Dave doesn't say anything. He simply stares into Kurt's face, into his eyes, questioning without words, his mouth slightly gaping.

"Dave," Kurt adds as an afterthought, his tone slightly reprimanding, but mostly muted. "If there ever was a time to kiss me again, now would be it."

And so he does. He shakes off any reserves he has and outright kisses Kurt, cupping his face and leaning in and being purposely slower and more careful this time around. The fire to his left is warm, baking him from the outside in, and Kurt is tepid in comparison under his hands, but it's a welcome temperature, and Dave can't believe that he can feel this again; all of it, from Kurt's lips on his, Kurt's hair at his fingertips, Kurt's skin under his palm.

And Kurt is responding, his hands clenching to the front of Dave's blanket, his mouth moving as much in sync with the taller boy's as he's capable of. And he feels warm and welcome and nice, not at all rushed or sloppy or desperate as he remembers it being months and months ago.

When they part for air, it's Kurt that whimpers a little this time, and when Dave move sin for a second his, his hands falling to the floor on either side of Kurt's pretzeled legs as he leans over on all fours to thoroughly explore Kurt's mouth with his tongue, he isn't rejected. Kurt plays along almost eagerly, and Dave isn't sure if this is a one-time thing or not, isn't sure what this means, but he likes it a great deal. No, scratch that, he loves it.

And he will come out to his parents and the whole damn school and take ten slushies to the face if it means that he can do this anytime he wants by dating Kurt. He would, and will, and can.

XXX

The power returns to the cabin at about six in the morning, while the two boys are still asleep, passed out head to head, curled up on their sides in a bundle of blankets on the carpeted floor in front of the hearth of the fireplace.

Their families return at around nine thirty, and when they find the boys on opposite sides asleep again (but this time actually seeming to have been talking to one another), the mothers in particular smile, and Paul Karofsky frowns a little but shrugs it off, not really minding all that much. It at least means that the two have been getting along.

"Kurt? …Hey, Kurt?" Finn says, shaking his stepbrother's shoulder. He reaches over and shakes Dave's as well. "You too, Karofsky. Come on, guys; wake up. We're back. Storm's over."

"That's true in more than one sense of the word," Kurt groans as he rolls over onto his back and stretches out his muscles, sore from sleeping on a surfaced stiffer than a bed. He yawns loudly and rubs one eye to wake up before yanking Finn down into a hug. "I'm so glad you're all safe."

"And we're glad you didn't freeze to death without power for hours on end!" Carole says, getting down on the floor to huge Kurt as well.

David, meanwhile, grumbles something incoherent before scrambling messily to his feet. He hugs his parents briefly before shuffling into the bathroom to do his morning business. When he returns, everyone is much more awake and already getting some breakfast together. It's just after ten o'clock.

"How did you two do while we were held up by the storm? You seemed like you must've gotten along," Lacey says ever so discreetly as the two families sit down at the kitchen table for pancakes and bacon, some of the supplies among the groceries they bought back with them from their outing the previous day.

"Oh, uh, y'know," Dave begins around a peanut-butter slathered bite, his mouth sticking together, "Listened to our iPods. Played those verbal time-wasting games like Twenty Questions. Uh. And…" made out furiously before chatting it up some more with their likes and dislikes, and then kissing more before they could help themselves; except he can't say that, and especially not in front of Finn (and Kurt's parents). So he improvises: "Told ghost stories?"

Kurt face-palms, his hand making an audible connection with his forehead. But he recovers quickly and says around a sip of milk, "Yes, that's exactly what we did."

"Oh, all right. That's good. I was just curious, since your generation is so reliant on technology and electricity that I wondered what it would be like if you didn't have it readily available, and couldn't leave the cabin," Lacey shrugs. She holds up the plate of bacon. "More, Davey?"

And the rest of the breakfast conversation is relatively normal. And so is the remainder of the day as they try to regular their vacation schedules again and see which activities are open again and which are still recovering from the sudden Rocky Mountain summer snowstorm.

Over the course of the next few days, everyone gets pretty busy getting out his or her final kicks before the week is out. Dave and Kurt wind up spending quite a bit of time together, unbeknownst to their family members.

Kurt is getting a little annoyed, however. Around another attempt at a kiss, He shoves Dave gently backward and eyes him. "Is this a summer fling, or do you plan on dating me, David?" he demands to know.

Karofsky worries his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment. "Um. Would you be okay with dating me? I mean, what would your parents think? Or any of your friends? To most of them, I'm like the worst choice possible for you."

The soprano cocks his head and brings a hand up to fiddle with the curls on the back of Dave's head; he's let his hair grow out quite a bit lately, enough that it falls into his forehead more than before and flips out in front of his ears and at the nape of his neck.

Kurt considers it for a second, and then shrugs as he awkwardly drops his hand. "My parents wouldn't mind after seeing how civil you've been on this trip. Finn might even support it. But my friends? Ouch. You have a point there. But some of them, I think, only want me happy."

"And… would you be happy with me?" Dave frowns, sounding torn between being insecure and childishly daring.

"If you continue to act like how you have been the past couple days, then… yes, I honestly think I could be," Kurt shrugs, sounding casual, but Dave knows that there's more to it than that. "Except," he adds sternly, looking Karofsky in the eye, "You'd have to come out to more than just your parents, because there is no way I'm going to have a boyfriend and not be able to tell people or be open about it in school just to spite everyone," he smirks. A boyfriend or girlfriend is the biggest accessory someone can wear, because who you're with makes a statement. And beyond this shallow reason, it also takes a stand. And Kurt truly believes that he could fall in love with someone like David, and that things could change for the better if they rose up against everyone else's perceptions together.

It could be like the ultimate fairy tale: mutual disliking, secret liking, angst, humor, irony, redemption, and togetherness. True romance.

And this is something Kurt knows he wants, and he wants it with this person in front of him.

"So are you in or not?" the singer asks, trying to hide his overly hopefulness from his tone.

Dave nods once, curtly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm in. I want that. I think, after all of this… I can do it, you know? Especially if you're there with me, backing me up. And I bet Hudson could back me up, too. And it wouldn't be so bad, I don't think." Because he actually loves Kurt; quite a lot, but he'd never admit to it; he would only confess to just a smidge. But it's real love, in that teenager-y way.

"Good," Kurt confirms. He leans forward. "You can kiss me now, by the way."

The jock smiles, and then they're back to their usual lip-locking, this time the locale being a subtle spot in the nearly empty lounge of the recreational center building of the resort.

XXX

The night before it's time to leave for the plane ride home, Dave gathers up all the courage he can muster and approaches his parents the one time they're alone, the four Hummel-Hudsons out for one last night on the ski lodge.

"Um, uh… Mom? Dad?" Dave mumbles, shifting back and forth on his feet, not looking directly at them as he sways his arms and occasionally snaps or pounds his fingers or hands together. "I, uh… need to tell you something. It's… pretty important."

"What is it, David?" Paul wants to know as he sets down the novel he'd been reading. Lacey glances up from the television and mutes it when she sees the look on her son's face.

"I don't want to beat it around the bush," he says in a rush, "So I'll just say it: I'm… I'm a, uh… ho- gay. I'm gay, Mom 'n' Dad."

Paul removes his reading glasses and stares at his son for a full moment, his expression vacant. Lacey smiles softly.

"Oh, I figured as much," she says soothingly, standing up and continuing to smile. She runs her thumb over her son's cheek and leans in to hug him. "I figured it out when you never brought any girls around after your sophomore year and when you got expelled temporarily for harassing Kurt, the only gay boy I know of at your school. Coincidences like that clue people like me in pretty quickly," she laughs lightheartedly, and pulls out of the hug, her hand that had been rubbing circles on his back stilling in place between his shoulders. "Sweetie, I will always love you, no matter who you choose to, um, consort with. It doesn't matter to me because you're my son and you'll always be the same boy I've always known."

Dave actually starts to cry, the tears slipping down his face at the utter acceptance he hadn't expected to come from anyone, especially not his mother.

"You're… y-you're not disappointed in me at all? Or disgusted?" Dave mutters.

Lacey Karofsky shakes her head firmly. She takes on a serious expression. "Now you listen here, David Isaac Karofsky: while part of me admittedly wanted grandkids from you, I know that there's always the option of adoption and I know that the world is changing and homosexuality is progressively becoming more common in the sense that gays are feeling more and more comfortable to be themselves openly without too much ridicule. And because of that, sweetie, I'm not disappointed, and I'm not disgusted. You're my son. Anything you do or say could never make me think less of you." She grins. "Well, unless you brutally, purposely murdered somebody. Then I might be just a teeny bit disgusted and disappointed."

Dave laughs and shakes his head, wiping his tears away. "…Thanks, Mom. I…" He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly as he goes on, "I really needed to hear something like that from one of you. Or anyone, really. You wouldn't believe it, but… I was scared shitless."

She nods imperceptibly. "You looked like it. But you don't need to fear someone as tiny as me, do you? Besides, like I keep reminding you, I'm your mother! I birthed you, dear, and that makes you closer to me than anyone, and don't you forget it." She glances back at where her husband sits in the single recliner in the living room of the cabin. "And you! Paul, why haven't you said anything? Get over here and tell your son that you love him and that it doesn't matter what the Hell his sexuality is, because he needs to hear it, and I need to know you believe it."

Paul clears his throat, nods once, and stands, setting his book aside. He comes over to Dave and gives him a quick, strong, fatherly embrace, the sort that involves the little pat on the back and ruffle of the hair and everything. "David, I'm glad you told us. I'm sorry I didn't react sooner, but… I was a little startled. I didn't see it coming. You seem so… well, different than Kurt. I didn't think… But you know what? It doesn't matter. I'm proud of you for telling us. That shows real trust and respect, and for that, I'm glad."

Dave doesn't want to cry again, so he swallows and blinks and nods, not trusting his voice to say anything.

"Great speech, by the way, Lace. It made me think," Paul remarks as he turns away and picks up his book again. He glances at his family and allows a rare smile to grace his beard-ringed mouth.

"It better have. Heaven knows having a conservative, Right Wing, strict father like you has made him terrified of coming out, even to me. You've said before how you don't support gay marriage, and we've had fights about it, since I'm so very Left Wing. Tell me why, again, we got married when our political standpoints are so opposite?" Lacey remarks, and she's half-serious and half-teasing, and her hand is squeezing her son's hand in comfort before she returns to the couch. She sighs, shrugs, and leans backward into the cushions. "I'm just messing with you, Paul; don't give me that look. Still, you see my point."

"And a very valid point it is," Mr. Karofsky agrees placidly. "And in regards to being that way… I apologize if it ever intimidated you, son. I didn't know, obviously. And if I had… I wouldn't have said any of it."

"But you still would have thought it, wouldn't you've?" Dave retorts irately, and his mother shoots him a look. He tries again. "Sorry. You know I get defensive. I didn't mean to snap at you, Dad."

"I know, son. I know," Paul answers lowly. He sighs. "I think I hear the Hummels coming in. Let's leave this conversation for a later time, all right?"

"No, I don't want to talk about it again," Dave responds thickly. He can indeed hear the other family reentering the cabin. He half-turns and says over his shoulder, "I said all I needed to. I know you guys still care, and that's all I was worried about. So… thanks, I guess." And he marches off for his room up on the right half of the second level.

Meanwhile, Kurt is glancing at the Karofskys' right faces, and he knows that Dave must have told them like he said he would when he spoke with Kurt before his family left for a while. He wonders how things went, and he intends on asking his boyfriend later on. But in the meantime, Kurt focuses on removing his scarf and jacket.

"Um, Kurt?" Finn says, leaning in to whisper in Kurt's ear. "Is this a hickey?" he asks, poking the base of Kurt's neck on the side, above his right collarbone.

Kurt stiffens and winces all at once. "H-huh? Oh, um… that. I uh, I-I –"

Finn chuckles. "Man, you suck at lying. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Um… uh, not here. Upstairs?" Kurt hisses, gesturing a thumb in their parents' direction as the pair join the other couple in the living room.

"Oh, sure. Here, just let me get my shoes of… Okay. Let's go," Finn agrees easily, and follows Kurt up the left set of stairs.

Once in their shared bedroom of the cabin, Kurt spills hastily, "Dave and I got really close over this vacation, so now we kind of decided to date, and Dave's actually gay."

Finn blinks as he tries to sort out the jumbled words. Once he does, his confused/lost face eases as his brows relax and understanding washes over him. His mouth forms a little 'o' shape before he nods slowly, his head bobbing up and down. "Oh, um… okay… Yeah, okay. I can see that, actually. I mean, every time I brought you up while you were at Dalton, Karofsky kind of tensed up and got all mad, and I never knew why. Thought he hated you. But I guess… yeah, this makes sense, too, in a really bizarre way." He smiles lopsidedly the way he does. "I'm cool with it, bro. You can tell him that. And does he want it to be a secret? 'Cause I can keep it, I swear."

"I know you can, Finn. You're good with secrets," Kurt says with a roll of his eyes, thinking vaguely of Quinn only a couple months ago. "And anyway, we're not going to be secret, we're just… waiting for the right moment to tell the people who matter. And as for our senior year… well, we'll just play it natural and see what happens with the general population."

"That sounds like a plan. And if anything bad comes up, you have me and the whole Glee Club behind both of you," Finn says with a smile. "'Cause I got your back, remember? Like I said at the wedding."

Kurt smiles fondly at the memory. "Yes, Finn, I remember," he whispers, and Finn smiles broader, standing up and opening his arms.

"C'mere, you," Finn laughs lightly. "I know you're probably still a bit hung up on Blaine – I mean, you didn't exactly have the best mood for the two-or-so weeks before coming up here," he says, letting his stepbrother fall into his arms like a seat buckle clicking into place.

They've had a lot more moments like these since prom, when everything fell apart for both of them, and all they had was each other. Quinn using him, Rachel being Rachel, and everything getting so tangled. They understood each other, especially after some of the things Blaine pulled that Kurt should have expected, since Blaine can be… well, impulsive and wishy-washy. And while Kurt didn't mind Blaine's flaws, not minding can only go so far before things get out of hand and one begins to mind a great deal.

"I know," Kurt sighs as he closes his eyes and leans his head against Finn's chest. Finn always smells clean like plain Dove soap, and always vaguely of maple. And he's always so much warmer than Kurt is. It's nice to have him as a brother; it's even better, in some ways, than having him as an unrequited crush like before. "Thanks for being here, Finn. For both of us. When I first saw you being friendly with Dave when he joined you guys during Thriller, I admittedly was a little taken aback and offended; he was still my bully then. But now I see that you two being friends like you are… it works out. It helped him, and in return, helped me. So… thanks for being you, I suppose," he smiles with a type of nameless irony.

Finn chuckles, the rumble reaching Kurt's ears against Finn's chest before the actual sound does. They pull out of the embrace at the same time, smiling for different reasons, and Kurt feels a lot better about himself and the situation.

"Come on, let's get packing. We still haven't yet, and we have to catch a place tomorrow!" the Frankenteen suggests enthusiastically.

"On the contrary, Finn: I am already packed. I have been since yesterday, because I know how to plan ahead. You have to pack still," the soprano ridicules with a smirk.

Finn scratches the back of his head meekly. "Um, isn't it the same thing? You usually pack for me or help me out, so…"

Kurt laughs. "Yeah, okay. You've got me there, stepbrother-dear." He shakes his head sassily. With a dramatic sigh, he wanders over to Finn's suitcase and starts folding clothes into it. "Well don't just stand there; get your bag of dirty clothes, check the washer and dryer downstairs for your stuff, and let's get a move on!"

XXX

"It's time to say goodbye," Kurt mutters grumpily. "This is horrid. I have summer school courses set up for this coming week and the two other weeks following it for extra courses I want to get out of the way – namely gym – to free up my schedule for next year. But this means I won't see you for a while." He pouts. "I feel like I'm only starting to really get to know you."

Dave rolls his eyes and squeezes Kurt's hands in his between them. "Stop being such a drama queen, Fancy. The weeks will fly by, I'll be busy helping out my mom at work to earn some extra cash anyway, and we have cell phones with unlimited texting. So suck it up and don't stress your pretty little perfectly-hairstyled head about it." He grins and muses Kurt's hair, succeeding in annoying the shorter teen.

"Gee, thanks, Dave. You make me feel so much better about our star-crossed situation," he huffs sarcastically as he bats Dave's hand away, drops the other, and uses both of his own hands to fix his hair. With a final run over his gelled bangs, he smiles. "But… you have a point. I suppose I can withstand the time apart, since it's not like I love you yet."

The jock scowls. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Kurt smirks, lifting his nose into the air slightly. "Nothing. Goodbye for now, David Karofsky. I'll see you soon."

Brushing it off, Dave nods grimly. "Yeah… see you soon, Kurt." And his face takes on an almost tragic expression for the briefest of milliseconds, and then it's gone. He leans down, pecks Kurt on the cheek, and spins on his heel to catch up to his family at the airport gate (they've been through all the security checkpoints already). He doesn't even care that Kurt isn't on the same plane, or that Kurt's parents saw the entire display, or that his own folks are eyeing him suspiciously as they ask him why he took so long.

He doesn't care, because this wound up being the absolute best vacation of his life, and he knows that no matter what comes to pass, he has this trip and Kurt Hummel. And that's fucking enough, in his reformed opinion.

Finite.