He hits the hard carpet before his eyes fly open.

He's back at McKinley, back at the reunion, he immediately knows. The classroom is the same as before, familiar but not, but he furrows his eyebrows in confusion when he realizes that he's no longer wearing his favorite blazer. No, this one is stone-grey, and tight through the shoulders. It's definitely not from the young Broadway star's collection.

He checks for a wedding ring because, really, there are only a handful of ways his situation could be worse, and plunging into a marriage with his girlfriend would be towards the stop of that list. But his left hand is free of rings and he releases a tiny sigh of relief.

"David," a familiar voice comes from the doorway, and then his breath catches in his throat because Kurt fucking Hummel has rushed to his side and is crouching down by him. "Are you alright?"

Dave struggles into a sitting position and searches his memory quickly for any hint about his new past, but draws a blank. Dammit. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replies slowly, carefully. He glances over at Kurt and tries to take in his expression as surreptitiously possible, but the thinly concealed hope is hard to miss. "I guess I fell asleep."

If Kurt notices anything amiss he shrugs it off, and extends his hand to Dave to pull him to his feet. Which he does, stumbling forward slightly under the heavier man's weight, and when he bumps his chest against Dave he turns a bright red. "Sorry," he apologizes quickly, stepping back.

Dave watches the entire scene with some degree of amusement because he can't remember ever seeing Kurt like this, not around him. It's almost like he's crushing on Dave, but that would be ridiculous, right? Under what circumstances would any version of himself rebuff Kurt's advances, after he's wanted him for so long? Unless- "Have you seen Ali," he asks, swallowing the lump of fear sitting mercilessly on his vocal cords.

But Kurt shoots him a blank look. "Who's Ali?"

The joy that hits his stomach feels like someone's switched on a light inside him, and he wants to fight the grin that spreads across his lips, he really does, but it's a lost cause. It worked, it really did this time. He's come out on the other side with nary a girlfriend in sight and Kurt Hummel is staring at him with giant, heart-shaped eyes. He's never in his whole life felt so -

"Dave?"

He turns back to the doorway at the sound of his name, but doesn't miss Kurt's face falling out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah," he says to the newcomer, whose eyes flicker between the two men uncertainly.

"Dave, who is this," the man asks, giving Kurt a curious look.

Dave has no idea if he's supposed to lie or not, but he follows his instincts. "This is Kurt," he replies after a beat. He waits to see if this guy is going to explain why he's still standing there, and then suddenly he's crossing the room, and just as Dave thinks to himself that with the light brown locks, bright green eyes, and a tan that extends over every visible inch that the guy definitely falls into the Wouldn't Kick Out of Bed column, he presses firm and possessive lips against Dave's.

It takes several seconds for his brain to process what's happening. He feels the pressure against his lips, understands where it coming from, and yet it doesn't compute. How can be doing this with Kurt standing just a few feet away, when just moments before he was looking at Dave with tender, caring eyes?

It takes all his self-control to avoid jerking away, and when the guy finally pulls back, he's wearing a trusting, relaxed smile. "Mark Giles," he introduces himself to Kurt, who determinedly avoids Dave's eyes. "I'm Dave's partner."

Kurt doesn't look the least bit surprised, but the astonishment that hits Dave like a ton of bricks is more than enough for the both of them. No. No, this cannot be happening. He was able to find a way to, well, ditch his girlfriend, so he should be unattached right now, able to pursue Kurt to his heart's content. He isn't supposed to be tied to someone new! And, as if that's not enough, he can't even ask the multitude of questions forming in his mind. The desire to kick something really fucking hard isn't easy to fight.

"Kurt Hummel," Kurt replies, staring intently at his shoes.

Mark shoots Dave a questioning eyebrow-raise, but doesn't comment. A long silence stretches between the three of them until Mark speaks again. "Right, well, I didn't mean to interrupt," he finally says, giving Dave a lopsided smile. It's clear that he has nothing but trust for his boyfriend, and when he squeezes Dave's shoulder before departing, Dave feels like throwing up his hands in frustration.

Based on the look on Kurt's face, he feels something similar. "I can't believe you brought him," Kurt snaps as soon as the door clicks closed.

"Well," Dave says slowly, "he's my . . . Partner." The word feels strange on his lips. "Or whatever."

"Yes, David. I heard him."

Dave blinks at the icy tone but doesn't trust himself to speak, too scared of revealing just how clueless he is. He waits patiently until Kurt speaks again.

"Do you really have no respect for what we had," Kurt asks, and Dave's mouth drops open a little when he sees the tears forming in the smaller man's eyes. He crosses the room without a second thought, and wraps his arms around the slender waist, pulling Kurt close. "God, David. I still love you."

Goosebumps shoot up his arms and he feels Kurt bury his face in his neck. "I'm sorry," he says, because he never wanted to hurt Kurt, and the utter devastation on the fair features is heartbreaking to see. "I'm so sorry, Kurt."

"I know," Kurt whispers, giving a watery laugh. Then he draws away and stares up at Dave with that same loving expression. "I'm sorry too." And before Dave can find his voice, Kurt oh-so-gently brushes his lips against his cheek.

"Kurt?"

"You know, David, strictly speaking you're supposed to wait three days to call." But he can hear Kurt's smile on the other end of the line.

"Is that right?"

"You spent eighteen years posing as straight and you don't know one of their most sacred rules of dating? Honestly, how did no one guess you were gay?"

"No idea. Especially considering that I just spent the last two hours with my tongue down your throat."

A delighted giggle. "David!"

"When can I see you again?" A surge of nervousness, so he adds, "Unless, you didn't want to. I mean, it's fine if not."

"Oh no you don't," Kurt teases. "You're not getting rid of me that easily. I've still got a few days before I have to go back to New York, and I fully intend to spend a large portion of each of those days in your presence. Doing exactly what we were just doing, ideally. So, how's tomorrow?"

"I'm counting the minutes."

"Bad news, Babe."

"Well, it's nice to hear from you too, David. I've been fine, thank you for asking."

Beat, then, "Good evening, Kurt, darling. How are you tonight?"

"I'm fine, thank you for asking. Now, what's the bad news?"

"I don't think I'm going to be able to come up for your birthday."

Kurt's silent and Dave knows why. They've been planning this rendez-vous for weeks, and it's hard to be sure who has been looking forward to it more. Kurt's been unable to talk about anything else ("I can't wait until you get here - there's so much I want to show you! Actually, our itinerary is a tad bit overloaded. You don't mind, do you?" "No, Fancy, I don't mind. As long as you penciled in time for sex. You did, right?" "David! Of course.") and Dave's checked his flight information eighteen times in the last three days.

A soft sniff from the other end of the line and Dave's resolve snaps in two.

"Fancy? Kurt?"

"I'm fine, Dave. Just disappointed."

"Fancy. Go open your fucking door."

Kurt inhales sharply and throws the door open, and Dave's standing there with his duffel bag swung over his shoulder. "You know," he says to Kurt, "I went to all this trouble to come early, just to surprise you, and -" But Kurt's lips have found his, and all clever though flies from his brain.

"He's still into you."

"We are not having this conversation again."

"Kurt, I know what I saw."

"You're wrong, I'm telling you. If he was pining away I doubt he would have asked us to join him for lunch."

"At Dean and Deluca."

"What, so now you have a problem with culinary masterpieces?"

"No, what I have a problem with is visiting my boyfriend halfway across the country, just to spend three of our five afternoons together in the company of his ex. Dean and Deluca, Madame Tussauds, Central Park. Doesn't he have any other friends?"

Kurt's silent and Dave knows this leads to nothing good. And maybe Kurt's right, maybe he is being unreasonable. He has no actual hard evidence that Blaine would like nothing better than for Dave to get run over by a truck, there was just something in the way he had been unable to take his eyes off Kurt. But he has to admit that if Kurt is going to be so far away that he's glad his boyfriend has someone nearby that can keep an eye on him.

He takes a deep breath and tries again. "Kurt, I'm sorry. I trust you, it's not about that. It's just . . ." He flushes a little. "I miss you. And sometimes I can barely believe I got so fucking lucky."

He can practically feel Kurt's anger ebb away. "I miss you too, Dave. And Blaine just doesn't compare."

"Hey, Fancy."

"Hang on."

"Hello?"

"Hi, David. Sorry. I'm putting something together for my costume designing class and - Ow! Dammit!"

"Oh my God. Kurt Hummel just cursed. Can you hold on while I peak outside and see if the world has ended?"

"David, I'm bleeding."

His mocking tone vanishes instantly. "Baby, what happened? Are you okay?"

"I just stabbed myself with a freaking needle!"

Dave tries to decide how much compassion is appropriate for what is probably exactly one drop of blood, but when he imagines Kurt's reaction if it drips onto his Prada or whatthefuckever pants, he immediately instructs his boyfriend to retrieve a bandaid. "I'll wait."

He listens to the sound of Kurt entering the bathroom and opening the medicine cabinet. A long minute passes while Kurt doctors his finger, until, "Okay, the threat to my clothes has been averted."

"Whew. Thank God."

"Okay, did you call for a reason because, really, if you can't muster up real concern for an outfit that costs more than your car, I mean, I can call you back for that."

Right, okay. Inhale and, "Fancy?"

"Yes, David?"

"I love you."

He hears Kurt sharp intake of breath. "You . . . You do?"

"Well, yeah. You're kind of amazing, Kurt. I mean, okay, I'll never be able to buy you clothes you'll actually like, and I'm always going to pick a burger over a salad, and I'm never going to understand your fascination with Wicked." Kurt chuckles and the sound warms Dave from the inside. "All I know is that you look beautiful in every single thing you wear. And maybe I wrinkle my nose at your salads, but I think it's pretty cool that you take such good care of yourself, and it makes me, you know, at least give the greenery a second look. And, I mean, yeah, I can't get into Wicked, but that doesn't mean that I didn't add the soundtrack to my iPod for when you visit. And, well, I actually do like Rent. The movie, anyway."

"David Karofsky." Dave hears the tears in Kurt's voice, but knows better than to comment. "Who would have known that underneath all that scruff was a Prince Charming?"

"Come on."

"I'm not joking. And just so you know, I could not care less that you don't know how to shop - that's why you have me. And as far as the burgers versus salad debate goes, I kind of like that my boyfriend can bench press twice my weight."

"Holy shit. Did you just use 'bench press' in a sentence?"

"And I like Rent too. I love you, David. More than I've ever loved anyone, and it's pretty much the most annoying thing in the world. Because I am more convinced every day that I couldn't stop if I wanted to."

"Dave, are you alright?"

"My mom just called."

"Oh, God. What'd she say?"

Dave takes a shaky breath. "Just, you know. That my dad is probably rolling over in his grave and that she hopes I realize that at this rate I'll never see him again because I'll be burning in the lake of fire while he's in heaven, trying to live down the shame of having a faggot for a son." Deep breath. "She said that God probably gave my dad cancer to . . . punish me or whatever.

"..."

"Kurt?"

"What's her number?"

"Fancy, don't worry about it. I'm fine."

"You are not fine," Kurt practically shrieks in fury. "What's her phone number? I just want to call her. You know, talk some things over with her."

"Right."

"Dave. She hurt you."

"I'm a big boy. Just . . . Are you busy? Do you think maybe you could just talk to me about fabrics or some shit? Something that doesn't require too much thought?"

Kurt's silent for a long time, and Dave imagines that he's counting backwards from ten. When he speaks again the venom in his voice has been replaced by cheerfulness. "So, Ms. Slater asked me to make the costume for Tevye too, yesterday. Don't ask me why I said yes, because I have no idea. The woman couldn't give me a part in the show because I was late for my audition, but she wants me to take on most of the costumes? And don't even get me started on how I was late to the audition, because I still say that she told me to be there at four, not three."

"Thanks, babe."

"Hey, Fancy. How'd the audition go?"

"Do you have to call me Fancy? You do realize that that was one of your terms of endearment when you were still throwing me into lockers, right?"

"That well, huh?"

"It's not funny."

"Well, we've been together for a year now and this is the first time you've brought it up, so forgive me for attributing it to what I'm assuming was not so great an audition."

"I'm so glad you're getting such amusement out of my personal anguish."

"Okay, what is wrong with you?"

"Nothing, David! This has nothing to do with my audition for some play! This is about you, and how you have to throw that nickname around like there's no negative connotation to it. Like you've completely forgotten our history!"

Dave tries to ignore the ice that forms over his heart every time he thinks about the way he used to treat Kurt, the things he did. He tells himself that Kurt's just in a mood, that tomorrow morning, once the sting of the audition has worn off, he'll be back to his laughing, caring self. Nevertheless, it's with some difficulty that he forces out, "Kurt, come on. That's not fair. We both know that I haven't forgotten anything."

"Blaine says you have. He says that -"

"Wait. When did you even see Blaine?" The last Dave knew, Kurt was placing a little bit of distance between the two of them, as Blaine had spent the entirety of last Saturday explaining why a relationship between Kurt and his former bully would never work.

"He was at the audition. And you know, I told him he was crazy, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense."

"Wha-What are you talking about?"

"Even you thought I was messing around with Blaine!"

Woah. "Hey, that's not true. All I said was that I thought the guy was into you, and hello? Now he's throwing out all these theories about our relationship and, surprise! None of them are good."

"So you think you're perfect?"

"Kurt, that's not what I said."

"No, but it's what you mean, isn't it? That now that you're reformed that makes everything you did to me back then okay?"

"Of course none of that stuff was okay," Dave answers in shock. He's not surprised when he feels the tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "Of course not. But you said you forgave me - you said you wanted me to try to forgive myself!"

"Well, you're obviously just wracked with guilt."

"Bye."

And he hangs up. Because he knows if he stays on the line for another second he'll end the relationship that means more to him that his own existence, and it wouldn't be fair, because Kurt's just . . . Honestly, he's just being a bitch. The casting director must have said something absolutely scathing during his audition, because when Dave spoke to Kurt before the audition he'd been just fine. He just needs to give his boyfriend an hour or so to cool down, and he'll call him back. And everything will be fine.

"Dave? Oh my god, Dave, I'm so glad you called."

"That makes one of us."

"I know, believe me, I know. I was horrible to you, and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, David. I didn't mean any of that stuff I said, I was just upset, and you know how I get after a bad audition and I took it out on you, and I'm sorry! I never should have said those things, you have to know that I didn't mean them. I swear, I don't think of you as that same guy, and you've changed more than you can even imagine, and I see it, David, I swear I see it. I love you, I love you so much, and I can't picture my life without you. Please, you have to forgive me." Kurt sounds dangerously close to hysteria.

"Kurt, Blaine called me."

The sudden topic-change gets breaks Kurt's concentration. "He did?" He sounds confused. "Why?"

"He wanted to tell me . . . What happened at the audition. Said I should know, or some shit."

"What are you talking about?"

His voice breaks, and the tears he's been fighting since Blaine called finally surface and start steady streams down his face. "Kurt, he told me you guys hooked up."

"He what?" Kurt's voice is almost a whisper. "How could he - David, that's ridiculous. I would never do that to you. Or to us."

"I want to believe you."

"Then believe me!" His voice is loud enough to startle them both. "It's as simple as that! Dave, he's lying. You guessed that he wants to get back together, you tried to warn me, and now he's doing it. He's doing exactly what you were afraid of, and trying to break us up, and David I would never do that. You know me!"

"I thought I did. Until I heard all the things you actually think about me."

"I told you I didn't mean those things - I was upset. I love it when you call me Fancy!"

"I did too. I love you, Fancy."

"I love you too, David, I do, more than any-"

"But I don't think this is going to work."

"What? Y-You don't mean that." Kurt sounds like he's trying to convince them both. "I was horrible to you, but you've got to forgive me, David. We're supposed to be together."

"It's too much, Kurt." His voice breaks. "I don't want to believe Blaine, and I don't want to believe that you actually see me that way-"

"I don't, I swear, Dave-"

"But I don't know how I could see beyond it now. I can't stop thinking about it, and . . ."

"Please. Please."

"I think we should take a break."

He steps back away from Kurt, and stares down at him in wonder. How could he - how could Dave actually think Kurt would do something like cheat? Never, not in a million years, no matter what.

But.

But he can still feel the sting of Kurt's cutting words, and thinks that if he pairs the two together it's easier to understand. For Kurt to take exactly what Dave's been secretly thinking about himself, and throw those things in face, and then the call coming in just minutes later . . . He'd been blinded by shame and sadness. The feeling of betrayal hadn't come until later.

Now he remembers. He met Mark just a few short weeks after the end of his relationship with Kurt, and, determined to put all that behind him, he hadn't even spoken of his ex to his new beau.

Kurt reads his expression with practiced ease, and winces, before turning away. "I'm glad you found what you were looking for," he says, and there's sincerity in his words. "But just for the record, I was telling the truth about Blaine. I know that was years ago, but it still bothers me, even now. The things I said that night, the way I didn't fight for you. I should have made you believe me."

Dave knows what it's like to fight with regret. "It's okay. And I believe you, Kurt. I'm not sure why I didn't believe you then."

"I should go," Kurt says, after a minute passes. "I wish things had worked out with us. I think we could have been something really great."

And as he steps through the door Dave mutters, "Me too."