A/N: Why hello there. I have returned and am trying my hand at a Kurtofsky fic. This time around, I'm aiming for a sort of dark comedy feel, though I wouldn't peg this story as a humor fic. So I'll do my best to keep all the main characters and maybe even the minor ones alive, lol. Unlike my last fic I won't be posting as quickly or as often because this one is coming from scratch (where as Crazy Hearts I had mostly completed when I started posting). With that said, I hope you enjoy reading this and please review. I'll really need them this time around to keep me writing since it hasn't been created yet. I'm open to suggestions, critiques, and general feedback.

Warnings: I rated it M for now, mostly for language content, substance abuse. I'm sure there will be some sexy time in the future so we'll say also for smut, slash, and overall sexual content as well. I'll put up warnings as the story moves along (but probably not every chapter so be prepared) just in case I missed something or if there's something particularly risky in that chap.

Disclaimer: Glee nor it's characters are mine, if only in my imagination.

"Dave... Dave?... Colin, wants you in his office."

The large hand reaches over, index finger pounding like a jack hammer at the phone before it successfully locates and punches the intercom button, "Yeah, Connie. I got it. Thanks," He grumbles.

What the fuck could that fucktard want?

Dave's head was pounding, his cheek pressed into the desk as he ponders if today was Tuesday or Thursday... Didn't they already have their weekly team meeting already?

Yep, he's pretty sure that happened because he recalls the stupid tie Colin was wearing while he explained the latest fluctuation in their company budgeting... Some God awful puke green colored thing with little smiley faces patterned across it... Dave could've sworn that when he stared hard enough, some had even winked at him.

Did he forget to turn in his expense report again? Maybe that was it...

Oh God, they didn't know about him tanking that last account because he'd disrespected the client by inviting him for some world class Mahi Mahi did they? ... He didn't know the asshat was some environmental nut with a passion for dolphins. Who the hell loves dolphins past the age of six anyway?

He peels the side of his face off the desk and pinches the bridge of his nose in hopes of quelling the headache raging in his temples. Remembering that he may have some aspirin in his desk drawer he yanks it open, fingers brushing over various empty shot bottles which had once housed some exquisite and rather expensive rum, a couple of framed photos, the glass splintered and jutting awkwardly, and... there it was. He pulled out the bottle, hearing a distinct rattling that meant there was something still left in there.

He twists the cap and dumps what's left of the bottle in his mouth. There was only about three left he concedes irritably; he'd honestly hoped for about a good eight. He gathers some spit in his mouth as if planning to hawk a humongous loogey, and washes the medicine down in what he privately deems the natural way. Which is actually code for the 'too lazy to get his lazy ass up and find any other source of liquid' way.

"Dave?" Connie's monotone voice rains over the phone intercom again. "Colin's waiting."

Dave sighs heavily, then stands up, straightening out his jacket before walking out the door. He walks past Connie who raises her eyebrows at him as he passes. He self consciously smoothes over his jacket again and knocks on the door at the end of the hall marked with the placard, 'Colin Fassbender, Executive Director of Operations.'

God the anecdotes and hilarious quips, puns, and just plain taunts he's had a hey day with over that fucking name. Especially on the days where the wormy little bastard had given him extra paperwork, or griped about use of the company phone on weekends, or just generally exhibited his douchy nature to intensely high proportions of douchery.

Dave huffs, then knocks.

"Come in," came the too pleasant baratone.

He pushes the door open and finds Colin pretending to look busy - one of his specialties, Dave concludes - as he shuffles through some papers, pulling his granny glasses from his pinched face and nodding for Dave to sit.

Dave gingerly plops down into the too cushy chair. He always hated how cushy and oddly plump the chairs were here.

Colin gives him a wry smile, his thick eyebrows knitting together as he considers Dave carefully.

"Dave, how long have you been here?"

"Eight years..."

"Eight years. Wow -"

"... Five months, two weeks, and four days... I think anyway, if it's Thursday."

Colin elicits an uncomfortable chuckle. "Okay... Wow. Down to the very second huh?"

"I am an accountant."

More strained laughter. "Well, eight years is a long time. And you've done really good work for us."

Dave nearly rolls his eyes at the nature of this prick's sense of entitlement. 'Good work for us?' The douche had only been there for the past seven months. And he was seriously green, like just coming off his mother's teet, kind of green. Dave was pretty sure he had ball hair that was older than him.

"Which is why I wanted to talk to you."

Dave narrowed his eyes. Colin swallows audibly, shuffling a little nervously before pressing on.

"You've done such good work over the years Dave. Truly. But the truth is. Corporate is looking to down size and... well, you fit the bill buddy. I'm sorry."

"What?"

"You - uh - we're gonna have to let you go amigo."

Dave is shaking his head in disbelief. "Because I fit the bill? Hell does that mean?"

"No need to get hostile - "

"Hostile? I'm not getting fuckin' hostile. I'm just getting the facts. What's your reasoning Fassbender?"

"Dave... Look, do you really want me to say it? I mean - we both know what's been going on."

Crap. Maybe they did find out about dolphin nut. Colin was looking at him expectantly. His stupid face scrunched up with what was supposed to be concern Dave figured, but just made him look like a constipated squirrel.

"No. We don't."

Colin sighs as though this was honestly paining him to have to explain.

"Dave. Your work ethic, job performance - it's been slipping lately."

"How? I've gotten in all my reports. Met all my deadlines - "

"Come on Dave. I mean, have you even looked in a mirror lately? You look like shit, man."

"I wear a suit jacket like everybody else."

"Yeah. Over a t-shirt. A t-shirt that says 'Carpet Layer' with a suggestive picture on it. And for God sakes you have on sweat pants. Did you notice that this morning when you got dressed?"

"I get hot easily."

"You haven't shaved in what seems like months. And you actually smell. Like seriously... like a medicine cabinet full of alcohol. Which we all know is basically booze - "

"You keep booze in your medicine cabinet?"

"You come in late nearly everday - "

"I have issues with dropping my morning duece. I told you I could get a note from a doctor - "

"You barely pay attention during meetings or provide input - "

"Your ties. Are. Distracting. Okay? They fuckin' distract me. With their patterns, and eighties new wave crazy town shapes... It's a wonder anybody can focus when you're talking."

"The point is," Colin hastens on with an agitated air, "You haven't been presenting a good image. We all know you've had a tough time with your wife leaving and all - "

Dave is clenching his fists underneath the desk, his jaw tightening as he glares daggers at Colin.

Colin clears his throat, noting Dave's seething look, and attempts to back track a bit, sensing that he may have been lurking a bit too closely to the edge with that last remark.

"Um, not that it's anybody's business of course. But, we think this is for the best. This behavior... It's just been going on for too long, now. You really seem to - you could really use some help, Dave. Perhaps some counseling, an AA program. Whatever is going to help you, help yourself man."

Dave sits in silence, trying to digest everything. He was being fired... The cherry on top of an already wonderful year...

"I'll give you a complimentary file box to collect your belongings. And Don't worry about seeing HR, we'll uh - we'll send your last pay check in the mail."

"Gee. A free file box? You shouldn't have Colin."

The jack ass smiles, completely missing Dave's sarcasm. "Happy to do it Dave."

As Dave stands to leave, he halts. His anger: the rage that he used to carry around as a teenager like a shield, transforming and solidifying into the now familiar, calculating, targeted sense of menace that developed with age... A surge of focused vengeance enveloping him.

"You know, I think I may stop by HR after all."

"What for Dave? I just told you - "

"Not much. Just have a little chat with them about how our wonderful Operations manager - "

"Executive Director."

"Right. My apologies baby face. Operations Executive - has been spending company money on hookers. Oh, and not too mention his sleep over's with Dan's wife. I heard she was a real romp in the hay there, eh, amigo?"

Colin blanched. His pinched face paling, his lips pressed in a thin line.

"You have no proof - "

"Who needs it? You're sort of a running joke around the office. All I have to do is let HR in on the joke and see if they find it as funny as I do. I'm sure your Vice President Daddy will love it. He's always loved my Japanese golfer jokes at the company holiday parties."

"Look - Okay, let's just - Whatever, fine. Whatever you want, just - Don't tell my Dad okay?"

Check mate.

Dave's smirk spreads, doing nothing to deter Colin from practically hyperventilating as he awaited Dave's conditions.

"I want a years salary. With benefits."

"What? No way, dude. That's fuckin' insane -"

"I wonder if Patty still works in HR -"

"Okay! Alright - Fuck! One year salary. With benefits. But you sign a contract agreeing that you never tell any staff about our arrangement. Ever. Okay?"

Dave stands up and puts out his hand. "Nice doing business with you Assbender."

"Yeah. Whatever you prick. Just, get the fuck out! I'll meet you tomorrow with the contract and we'll discuss the logistics."

As Dave leaves his office, broad smile in place as he grinned past all of the blurring faces he knows are sketched with puzzlement, complimentary file box full of his office convections: books, his favorite desk lamp, the shattered photos of him and Lisa... He feels the powerful excitement of his' one up of the century' slowly dissipate... the ever present sadness returning. He thinks he still has a bottle of Jack in the back of his fridge he hadn't finished yet.

A/N: I got part of the plot idea for this chap from the movie American Beauty (so I'm giving a disclaimer slash shout out for that), I always loved Kevin Spacey's ability to black mail the hell out of his boss. And for brownie points, I wonder if anyone spotted another little movie nod I placed in this chap (hint: from a movie, that was based on a book loved by the planet) So... shall I continue? What do you think?