Title: Discussions Within a Closet
Summary: Takes place after the prom (ep 2.20), Monday morning at McKinley. Karofsky is conflicted, Santana is protective, and Kurt is just trying to go to class. (Slightly speculative.)
Pairing: Kurt/Dave friendship, Dave/Santana whatever they are
Warning: A bit of cursing.
Warning 2: This story is heavily weighted toward eventual Kurt/Dave friendship. If you're anti-Karofsky or pro-Kurt/Dave romance, you should skip this one.

It was Monday morning following the prom, and Dave Karofsky lumbered through the halls of McKinley with a scowl on his face that rivaled his most intimidating game-face from the football field. Several fellow students began to greet him as he walked past, only to trail off at his complete lack of acknowledgment.

A rumble of whispered speculation flowed through the onlookers as it became clear that his trajectory was targeted squarely toward Kurt Hummel. The other boy was standing with his back turned at his locker, determinedly alphabetizing his textbooks and ignoring the stares that he was attracting that particular morning. Dave simply stopped a few feet away from Kurt and stood stoically, apparently waiting for the other boy's attention, and the gawkers eventually grew bored and resumed their normal morning activities.

The early bell rang, signaling five minutes until first period. Kurt gave one last automatic flick at his hair, shut his locker, pivoted in the direction of his first class, and almost walked right into Dave.

Kurt eyed the other boy warily. Dave was wearing jeans and a mustard-yellow hoodie, and Kurt found it unnerving to see him in something other than his signature red (although the lack of beret was a welcome change).

Since Dave was just watching him with a distant look on his face, Kurt took a deep breath and spoke up. "Good morning, Dave. Can I help you with something?"

"What? No, I've been waiting to walk you to class. Like usual," Dave replied.

"But prom is over," Kurt stated in a bewildered tone.

Dave looked puzzled by Kurt's obtuseness. "Yeah, and obviously some people still have a problem with you. So, when I can, I'm gonna continue to walk you to class and make sure no-one bothers you."

Kurt struggled a little. "That's… You… Is Santana still blackmailing you? I thought you two would have broken up or whatever."

"I guess so. At any rate, she yelled 'sayonara' and made a fairly rude hand gesture at me as she was leaving the prom, so I'm pretty sure we broke up. I don't even know how she got home, actually."

The two boys merged into the rowdy students making their way through the halls, and Kurt answered breezily, "Oh, that's easy. She bummed a ride from me. Along with my other two female friends that lost their dates. Thank goodness Mercedes drove herself and Sam home or someone might have ended up tied on the roof."

With a snide smile, Dave asked, "And where did you put Preppy Smurf, in the glove box?" This earned him a glare.

"If you mean my boyfriend Blaine, he was in the back seat playing the role of Switzerland between Quinn and Rachel. He was going to drive—it was his car, after all—but Satan stole the front passenger seat. And every time I got near Rachel, she started rubbing my back and blathering about getting her dads to file a petition against the school board, and I would get that old urge to muzzle her with one of Finn's dirty socks. So Blaine took one for the team."

"Oh. The team in this case being you, I take it?" Dave questioned.

"Yes, me. And the few people that care if Rachel lives to see another day. Is it so difficult to imagine that someone would want to do something nice for me?" Kurt snapped absently.

Dave looked from Kurt to his own hand that was currently holding open the stairwell door for the shorter boy. "No, it's not that difficult," he said simply.

Kurt stopped in his tracks and stared wide-eyed at Dave, until the general inertia of student traffic pushed them forward and up the steps. At the top, he opened the door for Dave, then lightly tugged his arm and pulled him into an alcove off to the side of the stairwell.

"Dave. I shouldn't have said that. You've been fairly nice to me lately, with this whole anti-bullying thing. And… I wanted to say… well, that I'm sorry. For what I said to you before the spotlight dance at prom, about what you should do. It was a ridiculous suggestion, and after what had just happened to me, there was hardly any incentive, was there? I guess I was just high with some sort of adrenaline rush. But I shouldn't have pushed you, and I won't do it again, I promise."

Dave blinked at him. "It's okay. No problem," he said numbly.

Kurt opened his mouth to speak and then had the breath knocked out of him in a whoosh as Noah Puckerman blindsided him with a fake tackle.

"Hey princess, is this dumb-ass hassling you? 'Cause nobody messes with my boy on my watch, got it!" Puck narrowed his eyes at Dave and forcibly shifted Kurt to the side of his body that was farthest from Dave. Kurt rolled his eyes and sent Dave a slight smile of farewell as Puck steered him down the hallway, bragging loudly about his post-prom festivities.

Dave watched them fade into the crowd and then became aware of another presence at his side. "Shit, Santana! How did you get there?" Dave blustered.

Santana Lopez smiled mysteriously. "I have my ways, but a master never reveals her tricks." She flipped her hair back and simultaneously leaned closer and lowered her voice. "What were you and Hummel chatting about, all-friendly-like?"

"Nothing. Prom. That he drove you home from prom. And then he…"

"He what?" Santana hummed and leaned even closer, her eyes gleaming.

"He apologized for suggesting that I tell everyone about, you know, at the dance. After what they did to him. He said that he shouldn't have pushed me like that."

She shrugged, now looking bored. "What's the big deal? You look like he bitch-slapped you, which I suppose is possible, given that it's Kurt."

"He apologized to me, for something that he said," Dave repeated distinctly.

Santana sneered at him. "Yeah, and I said 'so what'?"

Dave considered simply walking away at that point, but he was drowning in the need to talk to someone, to make someone understand what was going on in his head.

He tried again to explain. "After everything that I did to him, the slushies, the insults, the kiss, me knocking him around so much… after all that, he actually felt the need to apologize to me for a couple of stupid comments."

She rolled her eyes and flicked her hair again. "Yeah, Kurt's a bit of a prissy bitch most of the time, but he is well-mannered." She clutched a textbook and notebook to her chest and stepped toward the main part of the hallway. "We should go, if we're actually attending class."

Dave nodded and moved to follow her.

Suddenly, she whirled and thwacked him in the chest with her books. "Hold the phone! What? Did you say kiss?"

Dave's eyes went wild, and he grabbed the seething girl and yanked her away from the emptying hallway, hauling her into a janitor's closet and swiftly shutting the door. He turned on the lights as their books fell unheeded to the floor. He tried shushing her and waving his hands in a 'keep it down' motion and she swatted back, and then they hand-slapped like a couple of eleven-year-old girls for a while.

Eventually Santana got very still and literally hissed at him, "Did you kiss Kurt?" Dave nodded faintly. "On the lips?" Another nod. "When?"

"During school."

Smack.

Dave tried again. "In November."

"Why?"

Helpless shrug.

"Did he want you to?"

The burning guilt in Dave's eyes said it all.

The girl began yelling again, this time in a rapid barrage of Spanish that he didn't understand and didn't really wish to. The bell rang and classes started, and still she berated him. Finally, Dave caught the word 'neanderthal,' which brought back memories, and he suddenly realized she had segued back into English.

"I can't believe you. I seriously cannot believe you. How messed up are you, to assault a kid like that? Like Kurt!" The volume rose again once she noticed that he was paying attention.

Dave freaked a little. "Listen—"

"He was fucking innocent, you bastard!"

"Jesus Christ! It was just a kiss! I didn't… take his virginity or whatever," Dave sputtered.

Santana narrowed her eyes at him. "You better not have touched him. A kiss is bad enough. Don't you realize that he hadn't been kissed before that?" Dave gaped at her. "Okay, yeah, he and Britt kissed a couple of times last year, just pecks though; she told me all about it 'cause, believe me, I asked for details on that action. Then his dad came home and made some crack about using protection, and Kurt spent the rest of the night trying to explain contraceptives and STDs to her without actually using the words 'condoms' or 'sex'."

Dave attempted to collect himself. "But he... and that prep school guy… I thought they were dating."

Santana raised her eyebrows. "They are now. But back in November, they barely knew each other. They were just friends. …I can't fucking believe you."

"Shit…" Dave leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor.

Santana took advantage and towered over him, hands on her hips. "It all makes sense now. Kurt put up with all that crap for years, and he never cracked. Then suddenly he couldn't handle it anymore. What else did you do? Do you do something else, something worse?"

Dave stared unseeingly at a mop bucket. "No. Yes. Yeah, I threatened to kill him if he told anyone what I did. Or that I was… That I am gay."

Her hands fell away from her hips and curled into fists. "I'm gonna flatten you. Not now, though, because you deserve to have your ass handed to you by a girl in front of as many people as possible."

"I know. You're right."

"I know I'm right."

The two lapsed into silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Santana huffed out a breath and lightly kicked their books into the corner. "Why didn't he ever say anything? It can't just be the death threat. Any one of us would have cut you into ribbons if we had known. His dad would have utterly murdered you. And the school board would have had to do something."

Dave shook his head. "I don't know. I think he believed that ratting me out would violate some gay code thing."

She snorted. "Figures. But that doesn't explain why he would return to McKinley. Or how he can stand to be around you now."

Dave shot her a weak smirk. "Now you get why I was so shocked that he apologized to me today." He sighed heavily, "He says everything's okay. But I just don't understand how he can forgive me. Even if he's just saying it, why would he? How can he?"

Santana hesitated for a moment, then gracefully sat on the floor in front of him. "Because it's Kurt. Because he's had a lot of practice. Don't you remember who tormented him the most until last year? His doting big brother Finn, and that idiot Puck who raced halfway down the hall to rescue his boy from you this morning. He forgave them, he forgave you. Just don't push your luck and try to kiss him again, because I think Scrappy Doo is already looking for a reason to kick your ass. Or to try. And the one thing I don't think Kurt would forgive is if you bruised his darling boytoy."

"So you don't like him, either?" Dave couldn't stop himself from asking after the reference to Blaine.

"Hmm, who, Kurt's boyfriend?" Santana's keen eyes didn't miss the way that his face tightened at the phrasing. "No, he's alright. He's hot. I would love to watch the two of them make out sometime," she added with a leer.

Dave frowned in confusion. "But I thought you were into girls?"

Santana shrugged. "Yeah, I am. But hot is hot. Plus both of them are fairly pretty. Porcelain in particular would make one seriously fine-looking bitch."

Dave just shook his head.

"Don't try to tell me that you don't agree. After all, you're the one that likes him," Santana said while inspecting her fingernails.

"What! No, I don't… God, I don't like him," Dave stammered.

"Please. You kissed him, didn't you? And from the sounds of things, it wasn't some deliberate sexuality experiment with the nearest gay guy. You jumped on him, didn't you, meaning you were acting solely in the interests of your most basic urges," she said, rolling the final 'r' with gusto.

"It wasn't like that," he stated flatly.

"All the insults and violence were just some really messed up version of the playground game where you pull the pigtails of the girl that you have the hots for," she pushed.

"It wasn't like that," he repeated.

"It was exactly like that. Remember, Auntie Tana knows and sees all. I've been watching you. At the prom, after they announced the prom queen and Kurt ran out, you so wanted to run out after him. You wanted to cuddle him in your big, beefy arms and lick away his tears. Don't bother denying it."

"That's ridiculous, I just felt bad for the guy."

"Oh, you felt something, alright." Santana stared him down.

Dave eventually gave in, figuring that it couldn't hurt for her to know, not given what else she knew about him. "Fine, okay. I suppose that I am a little attracted to him. But I'm not gonna do anything about it."

"Besides the afore-mentioned mouth assault?" Santana resumed scowling at him. "Good. You better not even think about it, because I am on the case now. And don't forget that I know where all the gay bodies are buried, so to speak. It wouldn't get you anywhere, anyway," she added with a snicker.

Dave was quickly losing patience with this conversation. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Santana broke off laughing and gave him a disbelieving look. "Kurt is pathetically romantic. He believes in fairy-tale princes and Hollywood endings. And I'm sorry, my dear meathead, but you, you are the conflicted anti-hero that he redeems in the end and then visits once a year in your lonely cave in the wilderness to bring you a basket of muffins and make sure that you haven't offed yourself."

To his horror, Dave found tears filling his eyes.

Santana sighed, then added in a softer tone, "Look, I'm not saying that you'll end up alone and miserable. But you won't end up with Kurt. You blew your shot with him long ago. He forgives you, and he pities you. If you play your cards right and eat all your organic vegetables, someday he may even genuinely like you. But, honestly, do you really think that you deserve him? We're cowards, you and I. We can't give ourselves over to love; we can't even admit what we are. We just don't belong with the plucky, open-hearted heroine."

"Hero, you mean," Dave managed to say.

"Right, hero, because Kurt's a boy, and we were talking about you." Santana made a big show of fluffing her hair in a way that had her arms hiding her face from view for a few moments.

Finally, she lowered her arms and drew her legs to her chest. She gave him an expectant look from overly-bright eyes, though Dave had no idea what she was anticipating. He had composed himself by replaying his earlier conversation with Kurt (only slightly distracted by the memory of how the other boy's navy shirt somehow gave his eyes an unusual silvery-gray glow), so he had been reminded of an issue that required resolution.

"Listen, should we continue this beard thing or what?"

Santana pursed her lips and actually gave it some thought. "I don't see why we should bother. All it did was give New Directions a legitimate reason to fuss at me. I couldn't care less what they think, of course, but all that high-pitched whining could potentially be damaging to my eardrums."

Dave nodded in agreement, and then an awkward silence again fell between the pair.

Finally, he glanced at his watch. "First period is almost over, and I have a quiz that I can't miss next period. We should get out of here."

Dave clambered up slowly and clumsily. Santana unfolded her legs, ignored his proffered hand, rose to her feet in one fluid movement, and pointedly glanced at their abandoned books in the corner. He tried to ignore the unspoken demand, but eventually he huffed and sidled around her to collect the items. Once they had sorted out each other's property (including his lucky pen that Santana tried to claim despite it bearing his initials), he flicked off the light and opened the door.

Dave laughed bitterly as they exited the dark closet together. "Funny, we finally do something worthy of sexual innuendo and gossip, and now we're breaking up."

Santana replied drolly, "Best time you ever had in a closet, I bet. Well, second best."

He fumbled for a response. "You know, you don't make any sense. One minute you're screaming that the guy's, like, innocent, and the next you're talking about watching him hook up."

"Yeah, I'm complicated. And I was partly just trying to get a rise out of you."

"Partly?"

Her only response was a raunchy laugh as she sauntered away.

Dave resumed his sentry duty outside the door of Kurt's classroom as the bell rang to dismiss first period. The first few students bolted out the door, then Kurt appeared, flanked by Puck and Finn.

Finn slung an arm around his stepbrother and wheedled, "The guys and I were talking about hanging out this afternoon and playing that new game I bought. Do you think maybe you can bake those awesome nut and white chip cookies? Pretty please?"

Kurt tilted his head and considered. "You mean my secret recipe white chocolate chip-macadamia nut cookies? Sure, as long as I don't get some crazy homework assignment today, I should have time. But you need to go to the store to buy the ingredients; I'll give you a list at lunch."

Finn squeezed him haphazardly. "Yes! This is gonna be great!" He released Kurt to the other boy's relief and turned to high-five Puck. The two walked off, discussing the potential greatness of their afternoon.

Kurt stopped next to Dave, not looking particularly surprised to find him waiting this time.

Kurt smiled hesitantly, "Hey… Are we okay?"

"Are we?" Dave replied in a significant tone.

Kurt's smile grew more warm. "Yes, I think so."

Dave felt a knot develop in his throat at Kurt's friendly smile. The words of his discussion with Santana swirled in his head for a bit, until Kurt's expression grew concerned.

"Seriously, are you okay?" Kurt asked.

Stalling for time, Dave nodded and began walking towards Kurt's next class, which he also shared. As Kurt fell in step with him, he forced himself to focus solely on the memory of a friendly, concerned smile.

Dave cleared his throat. "So, you like to bake?"

Kurt chuckled dryly, "I know, stereotypical gay, right? But, yes, I do."

Dave flashed a grin. "Well then, for future notice, you should know that my favorite type of muffin is blueberry."

AN: And once again there's a cameo by a food-seeking Finn. Sorry, dude.