Archive of Our Own

It's been a long time since Dave has had any occasion to think about Kurt Hummel. It's been, what, sixteen or seventeen years? And he's been sort of busy in the interim. But when he walks out of his office and sees Kurt sitting at the conference table talking to Agent Stevens, it's like he's back at McKinley High, thumping Kurt by day and by night... well, mostly sinking his fingernails into his own arm every time his thoughts strayed to Kurt in a failed attempt to condition himself. He still has a couple of tiny scars to prove how well that didn't work.

He doesn't even consider how colossally stupid it is to open the door before he does it. Agent Stevens's head snaps up at the interruption, and he immediately cringes. For all he knows, she's in the middle of interrogating Kurt about some crime and he's just fucked it all up. "Sorry, Caroline. I didn't think and –"

"Karofsky?" Kurt's voice gives new meaning to the word 'incredulous.'

"I'm sorry for barging in, but I saw you here, and I just... How have you been?" He feels awkward and stupid, worried that Kurt will still hate him. That Kurt's hated him all these years, and that he's never gotten over it.

"You two know each other?" Caroline asks.

"We went to high school together," Kurt answers in a clipped tone. Then he turns to Dave. "You're an FBI agent? How did that happen?"

Dave can't help wincing at Kurt's implication that Dave is far too meat-headed and worthless to have a job of any importance. It hurts, but Dave tries to take the high road. "Same way anyone gets any job. School, training, you know. What have you been up to since high school?"

Kurt's eyes blaze. "Don't talk to me like we're friends, Karofsky." Dave sighs, realizing that Kurt obviously has been hating him since high school, and he definitely hasn't gotten over it.

"What's he's been up to may be art forgery," Caroline says, her tone a bit snotty. "He's here for questioning in the Lang Gallery heist."

Dave's jaw drops a little. Kurt Hummel, a criminal? It doesn't seem likely. He doesn't quite know what to say to that, but Kurt saves him the trouble. "Please. I told you already, I had nothing to do with that. I just hung it up, that's all."

Kurt looks proud and haughty, but there's an underlying current of fear that Dave wishes he didn't recognize. He meets Kurt's eyes for a moment, but Kurt looks away.

"The high school reunion is over," Caroline says, clapping her hands. "Agent Karofsky, if you'll excuse us..."

Her expression leaves no room for argument, and since he shouldn't have been there in the first place, he exits the room, shutting the door behind him. He wants to watch through the window for a minute, see if he can try to get an idea of what's going on, but he doesn't want Caroline on his ass so he gets the hell out of there.

He has cases of his own to work on, after all. He doesn't want to admit it, but Kurt's reaction to his profession was hurtful. It's not like Dave's a dumbass or anything. He'd always gotten pretty good grades in school until the whole... Kurt situation. He'd been depressed for a while there, and his schoolwork had slipped. But after Kurt had transferred, Dave had started climbing out of his slump. He'd worked hard and had managed to bring his grades up enough to get into a good college.

Dave had always been interested in law enforcement, mostly because when he'd been young and ignorant, he'd thought it was a good way to legally bust heads. He'd imagined himself as a small-town cop, flying down the highway, chasing criminals and getting free haircuts. However, he'd done very well in his criminal justice classes, and after a couple of good mentors and grueling internships, he'd set his sights on the FBI.

His days involve a lot more paperwork and a lot fewer high speed chases than he'd imagined when he was fifteen, but he really likes catching bad guys. He's developed pretty good instincts and he's fairly certain that it's not lingering guilt that makes him believe that Kurt really has nothing to do with whatever Caroline is investigating.

He sits back down at his desk and tries to focus on his work, but all he can think about is the fear in Kurt's eyes. It's been a long time since he'd put it there, and years of remorse have made him desperate to remove it now. He decides that after enough time has passed for Caroline to finish her questioning, he'll call her and ask to look at the file.

It won't do much to make up for what happened sixteen years ago, but he's good at his job and there's a chance he could do something to help.

It takes Dave about five minutes of examining the file to realize that his instincts are right. The sole 'evidence' they have on Kurt is that he's the one who switched the paintings in the gallery. Of course, it's a little fishy why someone who doesn't even work at the gallery would swap two paintings that look virtually identical without questioning what was going on, but Kurt's claim is that the gallery manager is a friend and he was merely helping out.

It's a shitty story and it's full of holes, which is why Caroline is convinced that Kurt is an art forger now, but it's clear to Dave that something else is afoot. Which is why Caroline is now standing in his office, hands on her hips, and looking pissy.

"Look, the manager asked him to change out the paintings. I don't know why Kurt didn't ask questions, but the owner is the one you want to be investigating."

Caroline snorts. "Do you think I haven't checked him out? Mr. Hummel is the only one who appears on the surveillance video. Mr. Kensington isn't even in the gallery at the time. And Mr. Kensington is outraged about the whole thing, especially as he and Mr. Hummel had a prior... relationship."

Dave doesn't know why the notion of Kurt sleeping with some manager at an art gallery hits him low in his stomach, but there's no mistaking the jealousy. He shakes it off, though. Kurt Hummel is a stranger to him now. Knowing someone in high school doesn't mean knowing anything about them as an adult, and it certainly doesn't afford any input on their love life.

"Here's the thing. I know this guy. Or, I knew him. He's not an artist. I never once saw him draw or paint or even doodle. It takes genuine talent to make a fake Renoir, and I'm sure if he had it in him, he would have at least taken an art class."

"How can you know for sure that he never did? He could have taken lessons after school, or in college. It's possible." Caroline fixes him with a hard look. "How well did you know him?"

Dave sighs. "Okay, fine. Not well enough to know for sure. But I sort of... I had a crush on him. I watched him pretty carefully."

She smirks at him. "He's definitely your type. But that's all the more reason why you should let me handle the investigation. I'm inclined to believe you. It's a new case and this afternoon was my first interrogation. I had to play hardball with him; you know how that is. I'm of the opinion that your Mr. Hummel was in the wrong place at the wrong time and did a favor for the wrong person. However, he's either protecting someone or he's got information that he doesn't know is relevant. I can't have you stomping all over my case to protect your high school boyfriend until I know more."

Of course she's right and he leans an elbow on the desk wearily. "You're right," he says, not bothering to correct her assumption that he and Kurt were anything resembling boyfriends.

"I know," she says, grinning at him. Caroline can be a real ball-buster, but she's one of his closest friends at the office. Their relationship is very much work-related, though, so he's surprised that she thinks she knows his type. She's never had a comment on his taste in men before. "Now go home and stop obsessing over this guy."

"I'm not obsessed!" Dave protests.

"I've worked with you for almost five years, and I've never seen you let your personal life have anything to do with a case. It's one of the reasons you're a good agent."

He smiles, knowing Caroline doesn't give out compliments easily. "Thanks, but I'm not obsessed, I promise. He's just..."

"The one that got away?" she suggests. "We all have those, Dave, trust me. I'll keep you posted with this one, okay?"

It's more than he has a right to ask for, so he smiles gratefully. "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."

She leaves with a little wave, taking the case file with her.

Dave watches her walk away and ponders her statement. The one that got away? More like the one he abused until he ran away screaming in fear. The shame comes hard and hot, more so now because he has confirmation now that Kurt is very much holding a grudge. He'd always known how badly he hurt Kurt, both physically and emotionally, but he'd sort of hoped that Kurt had forgiven and forgotten.

He's also not sure what to do about the jealousy. He blames part of it on the fact that Kurt is still gorgeous. His face has gotten a little thinner and more defined with age – chiseled, his brain helpfully supplies – but seeing him this afternoon was like stepping back in time, which is probably why all the old feelings came rushing back.

It's not like he's been pining for Kurt all this time. He hasn't thought of him, not in a sexual way anyway, in a million years. Dave's had plenty of boyfriends over the years that he'd loved and desired in a way that far surpassed teenage lust. But there's just always been something about Kurt. It's not like Kurt was even the first guy he was attracted to. Kurt was just always the one that pushed his buttons. The one that got under his skin.

And apparently he still has that power.

Dave sighs again and starts organizing his papers. It's clearly time to go home.

The next day is uneventful until about four in the afternoon when he hears Kurt yelling from all the way down the hall. He's obviously still got a powerful voice. Dave is helpless to resist the urge to follow the shouting to Caroline's office. He knocks this time, having learned his lesson the day before.

Caroline looks up and rolls her eyes when she sees him at the door, but she waves him in. "Agent Karofsky, maybe you can help me out here. I'm trying to convince Mr. Hummel to seek protective custody."

Dave's blood immediately runs cold. "Why?"

"It's looking like Kensington, the gallery manager, is either the forger himself or that he commissioned the forgery. The fact that he asked Mr. Hummel to get involved, knowing that he would appear on the security tape, leads us to believe he was attempting to set Mr. Hummel up to take the fall. Or, at the very least, just trying to send us on a wild goose chase," she adds. "Until we know how deep this goes, I want Mr. Hummel to be protected. Kensington had a key to Mr. Hummel's apartment."

Dave looks at Kurt who immediately looks away. "I don't need to be protected from Evan," Kurt says, still looking at the wall. "And I've changed the locks."

"Regardless, he knows where you live; he knows the layout of your home. Presumably he knows your routines. It would be safer for you to stay somewhere else until we ascertain Mr. Kensington's involvement. We have apartments. Very comfortable. Like a hotel room. You can think of this as a vacation." Caroline is clearly trying for cheerful, but she's missing.

"I can't just take a vacation from my life," Kurt protests. "I have friends, a job, obligations, social events. And I'm not afraid." He puts his chin in the air as he says this, as if he's daring them to judge his bravery. Dave knows that he's the main reason Kurt doesn't want to be seen as weak, and it makes him stiffen up.

"I don't want to have to arrest you, Mr. Hummel," Caroline starts, but Dave holds up his hand.

"Can I talk to Kurt for a minute?" he asks. Kurt makes a small noise of protest, but he doesn't form an actual objection.

"Fine, but this is my office," Caroline says, stepping out.

Dave faces Kurt, searching for words. Kurt beats him to the punch, though.

"Why can't you just leave me alone, Karofsky?"

"I'm trying to help you!"

"Like you give a shit about me!" Kurt shouts, rising out of his chair, fists clenched. Dave half-thinks he's going to take a swing. "If you feel guilty about the way you terrorized me, than I say good! I hope you do! I'm not going to forgive you, if that's what this is about! I won't give you the satisfaction!"

Kurt's face is flushed and he's breathing heavily and Dave is sharply reminded of why he once resorted to borderline sexual assault. His fingers twitch with the urge to grab Kurt's wrists and hold him, push him against the wall and –

"Don't you have something to say? Didn't you ask to talk to me?" Kurt's voice is still sharp and confrontational, but Dave notices that he's relaxed his hands.

"I'm sorry," Dave says, shaking his head to clear away the inappropriate thoughts. "I was just going to tell you that you don't need to do something stupid because I used to be an ass to you and made you feel weak. You're not. I'm the one who was weak, clearly. And if Caroline – Agent Stevens – thinks that you should accept protective custody, than you should. She's a good agent, and she wants to keep you safe."

Kurt looks slightly surprised, which buoys Dave's spirit somewhat. Then his face closes down again and he scoffs. "Agent Stevens only cares that I testify against my ex."

"That's not true. We're all here because we want to protect people."

Kurt scoffs again. "I'm well aware just how caring and protective you can be."

Dave shoves his hands in his pockets. He doesn't have a clue how to convince Kurt he's not a monster, so the best course of action is to retreat. It's the only way to protect Kurt. "Okay, listen. I am sorry, for what it's worth. You obviously don't want anything to do with me and I don't blame you at all. I'm going to leave you alone and let you deal with Agent Stevens. You won't see me again unless you want to, okay?"

Kurt rolls his eyes, indicating exactly how unlikely it is that he'll want to see Dave. Dave just nods and leaves the office, closing the door tightly. Caroline is standing just a few feet down the hall, blowing on a cup of fresh coffee.

"Make any headway?"

"No, I just managed to piss him off." Caroline raises an eyebrow, so Dave elaborates. "I didn't tell you the whole truth yesterday. I didn't just have a thing for Kurt. I was... I bullied him. Really horrible. I was so deep in the closet and he was completely out and open, and I... I terrorized him," he says, using Kurt's word for it. "He hates me, and I really hoped he'd at least hear me out, but he doesn't want anything to do with me. I'm just gonna go, okay?"

Caroline reaches out and squeezes his arm. "I'm sorry, Dave. I'll take good care of him, okay? Trust me."

"I do," he says, meaning it. He wanders off down the hall, feeling like crap. He'd always known that what he did to Kurt was inexcusable, but he didn't think it was really unforgivable. He wants so badly to run back, to try harder to explain, but he's never been that great with words. He doesn't know what he could possibly say.

All he can do is hope that Kurt listens to Caroline and keeps himself safe.

Kurt's never been good at listening. That's what Dave tells himself, anyway, as he parks his car across the street from Kurt's apartment building, settling in for a lengthy stake-out. Or stalking. Whatever. He's not going to do anything creepy – or anything creepier than snaking the address out of Caroline's file and parking on the street outside, planning to watch the place all night, that is. He's just going to sit there and watch and make sure nothing happens. That's all.

He pulls out his fast food salad, leaving the dressing in the bag. He tries to eat healthily now, as he's worked hard to overcome 'chubby.' He wonders if he should tell Kurt that he bears scars from their altercations, too. Maybe it would help.

He's not exactly ripped or anything, no six-pack abs in sight, but he's certainly not fat. He'll always be big and solid, which he's learned to accept as a good thing. A lot of guys like that, after all, but he doesn't want to slide into flabby, as some of the older agents he works with have. He's only thirty-two now – and still has his hair, thank you – but prevention is key.

Dave eats with one eye on the building, succeeding in getting lettuce on the floor of the car. No less than thirty times, he decides he's being silly and is going to pack it in. A couple of times, he even starts the car. However, something makes him stay. Perhaps it's just good instincts, but maybe it's more, because at about two in the morning, he sees something out of the corner of his eye that makes him press himself back in his seat, reaching under his suit jacket to pat the butt of his gun.

The guy walks up to the intercom, head down like he's all business. He stands by the intercom for far too long. Perhaps he's just looking for the right apartment. Maybe he's locked out and he's trying to get a neighbor to buzz him in. There are a lot of possibilities, but something about the guy has Dave's hackles up.

Without thinking about the fact that it's the middle of the night, Dave pulls out his phone and calls Kurt. He'd programmed the number in earlier when he'd taken the address, and he's very thankful for that bit of forethought now. It takes several rings before Kurt picks up, sleepy and confused.

"Hello?"

"Kurt, it's... It's the FBI. We have reason to believe a suspicious person just went into your building."

"What? What's going on? Who is this?"

Dave huffs, not wanting to waste time. "It's Dave Karofsky."

Kurt's voice turns icy-hard. "Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?"

"I can't explain now, but I'm outside and a guy just went into your building and I don't like the look of him. Can you please buzz me in? Be very quiet. It might be nothing but..."

The line sounds dead and Dave pulls the phone away. Kurt's hung up on him. Fabulous.

He sits for another moment, debating whether or not he should try calling again, when his phone buzzes in his hand. It's Kurt's number.

"Kurt?" Dave asks, pressing the phone to his ear.

"I... I think you were right." Kurt's voice is little more than a whisper and Dave's blood runs cold. "I went out to the living room and I heard... scratching. On the door."

"Where are you now?" Dave demands, already out of the car, hurrying toward the building.

"In my bathroom. I locked the door. I can't... I can't hit the intercom from here."

"Just sit there and don't move, okay? I've got it. I'm going to hang up now but I'll be right there. After I hang up, call 911." Dave ends the call, not wanting to waste more time. He gets up to the building and presses several intercom buttons at once.

Someone hits the automatic lock without even asking who's there. It makes Dave sick to think how little people value their safety, but it's the same story at most apartment buildings. But he can think about giving safety lectures later. For now, he has to get to Kurt's apartment before anything can happen.

He hurries up the stairs to the second floor as quickly and quietly as he can. The door to Kurt's apartment is standing open and Dave gulps. He draws his gun and leads with it into the apartment. There's no sign of movement.

Dave makes his way through the living room and checks the kitchen, a guest bedroom, and a home office before he reaches Kurt's bedroom. He moves through it carefully, assessing every hiding spot. There's no sign of anyone. "Kurt?" he asks at the bathroom door, keeping his voice low.

"Karofsky?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Prove it," Kurt says, and Dave almost laughs at the absurdity.

"How?"

"Tell me something that no one but you would know."

Dave goes through several possibilities but settles on, "You wore this really cool gray Lady Gaga outfit to school one time. With these big shoes? And I tried to kick your ass for it, but you actually looked sort of awesome in it."

Kurt opens the door, looking slightly amused on top of the stark terror. "What's going on?" he asks.

"The apartment door was open when I got up here, but the place seems empty."

Kurt looks totally stricken. "Open?"

"Yeah. I guess the guy heard me coming. Or heard you on the phone. Something that made him get the hell out."

"Are... Are you sure he's gone?"

"Pretty sure, but you're not staying here either way," Dave tells him. There's no way he's letting Kurt remain here. He's pretty sure the guy's beat it, but there's always a chance he's laying in wait, and... "We should move," Dave says.

Kurt looks down at his clothes. He's wearing a pair of blue silk pajamas and his feet are bare. "Can I get dressed?"

"Sure. Grab a change of clothes while you're at it, but hurry."

"Can I get some privacy?" Kurt asks, a strange look on his face.

"I don't like the idea of leaving you alone in here. What if...?"

Kurt's gaze shoots to the closet, his face pinched and frightened.

"I checked around, but..."

"Fine, stay here, but turn around. I know you're not a gentleman, but try to pretend."

"Ouch," Dave says, genuinely hurt. Kurt doesn't offer any apologies, though, so Dave dutifully turns to face the wall. He realizes after he turns that he can see a sliver of the room in the dresser mirror, and a moment later, Kurt walks into his field of vision, wearing just an open shirt over a pair of tight briefs. Dave watches, his mouth dry, as Kurt buttons the shirt over his smooth chest. All that soft pale skin makes Dave's fingers itch to touch it.

Kurt moves out of the space Dave can see, and Dave curls his fingers into his palm, digging in with his nails. It doesn't quite erase the image, but it reminds him what he's here to do and he resumes listening carefully.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"Fine. Almost ready," Kurt answers. "And you can turn around."

Kurt's stuffing things into a leather bag, clad in dark dress pants and with a sweater vest over his shirt. And a tie.

"Kurt, we're fleeing. You needed a tie?"

With a little sniff, Kurt hefts the bag onto his shoulder. "I wouldn't expect you to know anything about proper attire."

That's a little uncalled for, since Dave is actually wearing a decently expensive suit, with a shirt and tie that the lady at the suit store selected for him, so he knows they match. He's made a lot of strides in the wardrobe department. Of course, he's sort of rumpled from sitting in his car all night, so maybe Kurt isn't getting the best impression.

Ignoring Kurt's comment, Dave heads for the door. "Stay behind me," he says, holding his gun at the ready.

"You have a gun?" Kurt squeaks, looking at it with distaste.

"I'm an FBI agent," Dave says patiently. "I realize you find that hard to believe, but it's true. I can show you my badge."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Let's just get out of here."

Dave leads him out, keeping his gun low but drawn. They make it out of the building and to Dave's car without incident. When they're in, Dave drives away, struggling to keep calm and not peel out, making more of a scene. Kurt's breathing heavily, and Dave looks over at him. "Are you okay?"

"Someone just broke into my apartment, possibly to kill me, and I had to get saved by Dave Karofsky. How do you think I'm doing?"

Dave laughs, and Kurt looks surprised. "What? It's pretty funny if you think about it."

Kurt sighs and looks out the window, obviously not seeing the humor.

Dave calls both his office and the local cops, reporting what just happened. Once he's finished with his calls and puts his phone away, Kurt asks, "Where are you taking me?"

"Well, it's the middle of the night. It would be easier to just lay low until the morning, and then we can get you installed in a safe house tomorrow in broad daylight. Harder for anyone to track you without us noticing them."

"Lay low where?"

"Well, we could go to a hotel... Or even my apartment."

"We? I'm not going anywhere with you, especially to your apartment!" Kurt sounds completely scandalized, like Dave is some kind of rapist or something, and Dave clenches his hands on the wheel.

"I just saved your life. You don't need to be so fucking ungrateful! And because I saved your life, I'm sorry, but I'm not just going to drop you off on some street corner somewhere to fend for yourself! I realize you don't like me, and I realize you're completely justified in those feelings, but this is my job. My job is to keep people safe and to stop people from doing bad shit. So yeah, I'm keeping you with me. And I'm not going to wake Caroline up in the middle of the night because you're too much of a bitch to spend a few hours in my company. We're thirty fucking years old, and no matter how much of an asshole I was when we were kids, I'm pretty sure you can be an adult and deal with me long enough for me to keep you alive. Now, we can check into a hotel or we can go to my place. It'll be safer at my apartment because it's a private residence and it's harder to break into than a hotel. I have a doorman and no one gets in without a name. But I understand if you'd rather go to a hotel. So... which would you prefer?"

Kurt's still looking out the window, and for a few minutes, he doesn't show any reaction to Dave's little speech. Then he takes a breath and says, "I'll go to your place."

"Good," Dave says, making an abrupt left.

Kurt is silent the rest of the way to Dave's apartment. He doesn't speak until the doorman at Dave's place greets them and Kurt murmurs some vague response. They ride the elevator to the fifth floor and Dave unlocks the door. He doesn't draw his gun, but he does enter first, flicking on the lights and making sure nothing looks out of place.

He closes the door behind Kurt. "Nice place," Kurt says, sounding surprised again, like he'd assumed Dave would live in a hovel.

"Thanks," Dave says, not commenting on Kurt's tone. "I don't have a fancy guest room or anything, but there's a futon in my spare room. It's a nice one, I promise. Comfortable. Have a seat and I'll put some clean sheets on it. Feel free to get a drink or whatever."

He feels strangely nervous having Kurt here, in his space. It's something he used to imagine back in high school sometimes – having Kurt in his house, in his room. But it's certainly not something he's thought about in relation to this apartment. He has a pretty nice place, but considering the décor he'd seen at Kurt's apartment, he bets Kurt thinks it's drab. At least it's clean, though. Dave's never been one of those messy bachelors. He thinks Kurt will probably appreciate that.

Once the futon is made up and he's heaved some free weights into the closet so Kurt won't stub his toe or something, he goes back to the living room. Kurt is sitting on the couch, still as a statue, with his hands twisted together and his shoulders shaking.

"Kurt?" Dave ventures.

Kurt turns around suddenly, clearly startled. He swipes at his cheeks embarrassedly. "I'm sorry, I just..." He trails off, sounding lost and hopeless and Dave comes around the couch to drop a hand on his shoulder.

"What happened tonight would freak anyone out," Dave tells him.

"It's just that... Someone... Someone was in my house," Kurt gets out, his face crumpling.

Dave doesn't think before he moves, dropping onto one knee to pull Kurt against his shoulder. Kurt goes easily, wrapping both arms around Dave's neck. Dave can feel how badly he's shaking, but he doesn't cry, at least not audibly. After a moment, he pulls away, scooting back on the couch. "Sorry. And... thank you."

"You don't have to thank me for doing my job."

"If you hadn't been there, I would have been asleep and that man would have... Well... And I don't think it was your job to sit outside my apartment all night."

Dave feels himself flushing guiltily, but he doesn't admit it. "Let me show you where you can sleep."

He lets Kurt see him making a show of checking the deadbolt and putting on the chain. Then he leads Kurt to the spare room. It's a combination of guest room, home office, and workout room, but it's tidy and the futon looks inviting with its clean sheets and blankets. "The bathroom is the door right next to this one," he says, pointing. Remembering Kurt's earlier discomfort, he adds, "There's a master bathroom, too, so you'll have this one all to yourself. Can I get you something? A glass of water?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you. You didn't have to do this. Any of this."

Dave tries to smile, but it seems to come out more as a grimace. "I'm pretty sure I owed you one."

Kurt accepts this with a nod, and Dave nods back. They exchange goodnights and Dave closes the door.

He changes out of his rumpled suit and puts on sweatpants and a t-shirt. He lies in bed and listens as water runs in the other bathroom and then a door closes. Dave wants to think about this. To think about how he feels having Kurt Hummel in his apartment, lying in the next room, probably in silky blue pajamas, but he's got the bone-weary tiredness that comes from adrenaline wearing off, so before he can think of much of anything, he's out like a light.

When he hears the door creak open, he shoots up out of a sound sleep, fumbling on his bedside table for his gun. "It's just me," a voice hisses and Dave shakes his head to clear away the sleep.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah."

Dave glances at the window. It's still fully dark, so he can't have been sleeping for more than an hour at the most. "What's wrong?"

"I just... I'm freaking out. And I don't want to be, but I am."

He knows how much it must cost Kurt to admit he's scared, but honestly, who wouldn't be? "Do you want to...?"

He's not sure what he's going to ask, but Kurt says, "Yeah, okay," and crosses to the bed, flipping down the sheet and climbing in next to Dave.

Still fuzzy with sleep, it takes Dave a minute to process what's just happened. Kurt Hummel is in his bed. "Kurt...?"

"Can we just... not talk about this?" Kurt asks, and Dave almost laughs.

He's exhausted, though, and he wants nothing more than to go back to sleep, so he just grunts in acknowledgement and rolls away from Kurt.

When he wakes up next, it's just barely light out. He gets up and pees, stretching until his back cracks. He's a little stiff from sitting in his car for six hours. When he goes back into his room, Kurt is still in his bed, stretched out and taking up way more than his share of the mattress and the covers. He looks sort of gorgeous, his head thrown back to expose his throat. Dave can see the pulse twitching through the thin, pale skin, and he's gripped anew with fear that someone actually tried to hurt – or even kill – Kurt. It's like swatting down a dove or something.

Then, predictably, he remembers that he'd once made a hobby of similar activities, and he feels the familiar stab of guilt. He'd been in a bad place, sure, but that's a sad excuse.

Shaking his head, he climbs in next to Kurt to try to catch another hour of sleep before his alarm goes off.

When the alarm buzzes, Dave reaches over to bash the sleep button and as he moves, he realizes Kurt is draped across his chest, his face buried in the crook of Dave's neck. His thigh is stretched across Dave's leg, almost high enough to be indecent. Honestly, it's a nice way to wake up.

Kurt seems like he's still fast asleep, so Dave takes a chance, reaching up to brush Kurt's hair away from his face. He wrinkles his nose a little at the touch, but he doesn't open his eyes.

Dave's gone from having innocent morning wood to having an actual erection in mere seconds, so he shifts his hips away guiltily. The last thing he wants is to freak Kurt out more. With a sigh of regret, he rolls away from Kurt and slides out of the bed. He goes to take a shower. A cold one.

When he gets back into the bedroom, Kurt is gone. Stepping into the hall, Dave can hear the shower going in the other bathroom. He picks out his very favorite suit, and dresses carefully, mindful of Kurt's comments the night before. No matter how much logic he tries to employ, he's still slightly disappointed that he woke up all cuddled with Kurt and there was nothing he could do to take advantage.

He hadn't been lying to himself about his feelings for Kurt. He really hadn't been thinking of him all this time, but proximity is making old the old desires rush back again. It doesn't help that Kurt's still as haughty and superior and just so sure of himself, even in the face of a break-in and attempted... well, whatever the trespasser was attempting. Dave is sort of glad he doesn't know. But regardless, even scared shitless and in the middle of a breakdown, Kurt had impressed Dave.

He's always impressed Dave, which is part of the problem.

Straightening his tie, Dave goes out to the kitchen and starts pulling out things for omelets. He's chopping green peppers when he hears Kurt come into the room.

"Would you like an omelet?" Dave asks him, continuing to chop.

"You cook?" Kurt's incredulous voice is back, and Dave sets down the knife, turning to face him.

He's trying not to be pissed, but honestly. Dave's always been strangely turned on by Kurt's bitchy side, but he's getting a bit sick of being run down. "Kurt, I'm not a teenager anymore. I've changed a lot since you knew me. I've done things. I've learned things. I'm a different person. And yes, I can cook. I'm not a gourmet chef, but I can make an omelet. Do you want one, or do you think I'm planning to poison you?"

Kurt doesn't have the decency to look ashamed, but he says, "I highly doubt you'd save my life only to poison me. And whatever you're making for yourself is fine. I like everything."

"Except me," Dave says, trying not to sound petulant about it.

To Dave's surprise, Kurt laughs at that. He doesn't deny it, though, so Dave goes back to making omelets.

Once they're sitting at the small table in the kitchen, and Kurt's eaten half his omelet, he finally says, "I suppose I don't dislike you. As you've pointed out, I don't really know you anymore. And you did save my life. It would be uncharitable to say I dislike you. The person you used to be, though? I hate him. I hope you know that."

Kurt looks so prim and proper, eating his omelet in delicate bites with a napkin in his lap, saying things in that honest way of his. Dave can't help smiling at that. "Yeah, I kind of hate him, too," he admits, and Kurt's eyes widen a little.

"Good," he says, but he doesn't comment further. After a few more bites, he says, "I like your tie."

"Thanks," Dave says. He's not getting his hopes up, but at least he's a bit closer to having Kurt forgive him – forging a friendship even, if that's not too much to hope for – than he was yesterday. It feels pretty good.

He takes Kurt to the office with him and delivers him into Caroline's care. He doesn't like doing it, but it's not his case and Kurt isn't his witness. Caroline looks like she's been up all night, and he realizes that the office probably would have contacted her after Dave called in the report and he would have been able to take Kurt to her last night. He's glad he didn't, though. He felt safer having Kurt with him.

Later in the day, Caroline stops by his office. "I'm not going to point out how creepy and borderline unprofessional it was for you to lurk outside his house last night, since it obviously worked out for the best."

Dave laughs. "I appreciate that. I guess I figured I owed him."

"On that note, I offered to move him to one of our apartments this afternoon, but he asked if it would be possible to remain with you."

"What?" That's pretty much the last thing Dave would have ever expected Kurt to want. "Are you sure?"

"Very sure. I'm not reading between the lines or anything. He flat-out asked. I told him that I would have to speak to you about it."

"Of course he can," Dave says, not even needing to think about it.

"I'll tell him." She's got a little smile on her face, and Dave rolls his eyes at her.

"Don't get any ideas. He still can't stand me. He probably just thinks he's safest with me, since I've got enough guilt to take a bullet for him." She raises an eyebrow and he says, "Theoretically. I hope it wouldn't come to that."

"Me too. I doubt it was an assassin who showed up last night. I don't get the impression that this goes deep enough for that. I think it's more likely the man was there to threaten Mr. Hummel. Perhaps rough him up a bit and warn him away from cooperating with authorities. I don't think this is anything more than a quick scam. I dug up some information on Mr. Kensington and the man's a gambler."

Dave nods, knowing immediately what she means. It's amazing how many of their cases have their origins with some asshole that needs to make a quick buck. "That's nice, because I don't really have any desire to get shot today."

"Good. Don't," she orders him, which is probably Caroline-speak for 'I don't want you to die,' he thinks with a little smile. "I've got Mr. Hummel relaxing in the break room. You can collect him when you're ready to go." She says this like Kurt is an object in the lost and found rather than a material witness.

"Will do," Dave says, smiling as she leaves. He tries not to read anything in to Kurt's desire to stay with him another night. It's understandable, really. He could stay in an empty FBI apartment, probably with a strange agent he's never seen before to keep him company, or he could stay in a place he's already been with a person he already knows. Even if he's got reservations about Dave, at least he's someone Kurt has a familiarity with. He tells himself very firmly that obviously those are the only reasons, and there couldn't possibly be any others.

At the end of the day, Dave goes to the break room, tapping on the doorframe with his knuckles. "Want to get out of here?" As he says it, he realizes it sounds like a pickup line, but Kurt doesn't seem to notice.

He pops out of his chair like a jackrabbit, smoothing his long sweater. "Oh, thank god. The television in here doesn't have cable. All day, it's just been talk show after talk show. If I never hear about anyone's 'baby daddy' again in my life, I can die happy." A shadow crosses his face at his mention of death, but he seems to shrug it away. "So yes. I want to get out of here."

Kurt follows Dave through the office and into the parking garage. Dave is far too aware of the fact that Kurt might be watching his back as he walks, and he's glad he wore a suit that fits well. To distract himself he says, "You're not going to die. I mean, that's not going to happen. You're safe with me."

"Oh, the irony," Kurt says, but he's smiling a little when Dave turns to look at him.

Without thinking about it, Dave unlocks the passenger door first, closing it behind Kurt, like it's a date or something. He hopes Kurt doesn't think it was awkward. Obviously he doesn't, because when Dave gets into the driver's seat, Kurt says, "Your manners have definitely improved."

"It would have been difficult to go downhill from where I was when you knew me," Dave admits. "And I've had some boyfriends who trained me well."

Dave has his eyes on the road as he steers out of the parking garage, but he can feel Kurt's gaze on him. "So, you're... actually gay?"

"Was that in doubt?" Dave asks, wondering how Kurt could think otherwise.

"Well, I knew you were... confused. But I never bothered to find out how that worked out for you."

"I wasn't confused. Well, not about that. I've definitely never been anything but gay. And I'm completely out of the closet at work, with my family, everywhere. So you don't need to keep quiet or anything."

Kurt nods. "Okay... Good for you."

"Thanks."

After a few minutes of silence, Kurt asks, "Do you have a boyfriend now?"

"No. I broke up with someone about six months ago. I've been on a few dates since, but nothing serious. How about you?" he asks, trying to make himself believe he's just making polite conversation and he has no personal stake in the answer to that question.

"No one special right now," Kurt says, and Dave can't help his happiness at the answer. "My family really wants me to settle down, but you know how it can be. Dating."

Dave thinks about Travis, his last serious boyfriend, and how things were good, but they never hit perfect. "Yeah, I know how it is." A thought occurs to him and he says, "Speaking of family, your dad married Finn Hudson's mom, right?"

"That's right," Kurt says, looking sort of surprised that Dave would remember that. "They're still together and very happy. Finn is doing well, too."

"That's good. Is he still with Rachel Berry?"

Kurt laughs. "Definitely not. He's still in touch with her, but he's married to a girl he went to college with, Stephanie. They're both teachers, actually. And I have two nephews who are just adorable."

He looks so happy and animated talking about his family that Dave wants to reach over and squeeze him or something, but he resists the urge. "I'm glad to hear that," he says finally, turning into his apartment's parking structure. "So what do you do? For a living, I mean."

"I sing, of course. And act. I'm currently doing a dinner theater production of Rent. My artistic integrity is terribly compromised by it, but it pays the bills."

"I'm glad," Dave says. "You were always really good at singing."

Kurt smiles like he's surprised at the compliment. "Thank you."

When they get upstairs, Dave asks, "Are you hungry? You sort of got the highlight of my cooking skills this morning, so maybe we should order some Chinese or something."

"Sounds good to me," Kurt says, looking relaxed for the first time since he landed back in Dave's life. Dave digs out some menus and they engage in some friendly banter while they decide what to order. Once the food is on the way, Dave turns to Kurt, sort of at a loss as so what to do.

"Do you want to... like, watch TV or something?" he asks, shrugging out of his suit jacket and dropping it on the back of a chair.

"Oh, god no. I spent all day watching TV, remember?" Kurt says, watching with some interest as Dave loosens his tie and slides it free from his collar, popping his top button.

Kurt's stare feels strange for some reason and Dave looks away. "Right, sorry."

"Don't apologize," Kurt says, putting his hand on Dave's arm. Dave struggles not to curl into his touch like a needy weirdo. "I'm here so you can keep me alive, not so you can entertain me."

"Well, I could try to do both," Dave says, smiling at Kurt. Kurt smiles back and they look at each other for a little too long before Kurt turns away, breaking the moment.

"Maybe a movie," Kurt says, walking over to the couch.

Dave wishes the baggage could just disappear. If they'd just met, Dave could have leaned in and kissed Kurt and it would have been perfect. Although if they'd just met, Kurt wouldn't be here in his apartment, waiting for Chinese food and a movie.

They manage to watch an entire movie and eat several containers of takeout without any more weird things between them. Dave sits in the recliner and Kurt takes the couch. It's all very proper and normal, and Dave's finally starting to relax. When the credits roll, Kurt gets up and starts clearing the debris from their dinner. Dave watches as he throws away the white boxes and puts the plates and forks into the sink. It gives Dave the strongest sense of want, for some reason. Like watching Kurt clean up his kitchen is even more of a turn-on than having him in his bed.

"What?" Kurt asks, and Dave realizes that he must be staring.

"Nothing, sorry. Was just thinking."

"I didn't mean to be invasive. Just trying to be a good houseguest." Kurt looks slightly embarrassed.

"Oh, no, you're fine. I mean, thank you for doing that. I'm just kind of out of it. Didn't get much sleep last night."

Kurt nods like that makes sense. "Me either."

"Yeah, for good reason," Dave says, standing up and retrieving his suit jacket and tie from the back of the chair. "On that note, do you care if I go put on some sweats? I'm pretty beat."

"Of course. Go ahead," Kurt says, turning to the sink to rinse his hands.

Dave wanders into the bedroom, pulling his belt out of the loops as he goes. He closes the bedroom door and unbuttons his shirt, dropping it into his dry cleaning pile. He's down to his boxers when he hears a noise. He turns around and Kurt's standing in the hall, watching him.

He freezes, unsure of what to do. He's starting to have an inkling that something might happen, but he's not sure if that's even remotely a good idea. Kurt doesn't seem to have the same internal dilemma, since he crosses the room in a few long strides and runs a hand up Dave's chest and over his shoulder.

Any shred of willpower Dave had been holding onto is gone now. There was a time in his life when he would have killed – possibly literally – for this, and he's not going to turn it down now. He pulls Kurt to him, tilting his head back and kissing him for the second time in their lives.

Kurt makes a little noise, same as the last time, but it's not protest. And when Dave starts to pull away, Kurt clenches his fingers in Dave's hair and pulls him back. There's no going back from that point, and Dave opens his mouth, matching Kurt's frantic pace. He hadn't expected Kurt to be so aggressive, but he revels in it. He's always liked that about Kurt outside the bedroom, so why should this be any different?

He pulls Kurt's shirttails out of his pants and gets a hand up under the fabric to touch skin. Kurt moans and hooks a leg around one of Dave's legs like he's trying to climb him. Dave doesn't waste any more time after that. He wraps one arm around Kurt's waist and half carries and half drags him across the floor until he can back him up against the bed.

Kurt pulls his sweater over his head, tossing it on the floor, and then goes to work on his shirt buttons. Dave swats his hands away and handles the buttons himself, opening each one slowly and carefully. He's very aware of the fact that this might be post-traumatic stress-induced lust and that he might not ever have another shot to prove to Kurt just how different he is. He refuses to stop kissing Kurt, even as he's struggling with the buttons, and when Kurt turns his head away, gasping for ragged breaths, Dave just slides his mouth to Kurt's neck.

When he's done with the shirt buttons, he moves on to the pants, popping the button and sliding the zipper down. When Kurt doesn't object, Dave moves his hand to cover the bulge in Kurt's underwear. Kurt makes a really good noise and brings his lips back to Dave's.

Dave pushes him back onto the bed, stripping off his own boxers even as Kurt's falling. Kurt gets with the program and shimmies out of his underwear. He's still kicking it down one leg when Dave climbs on top of him, dropping his cock against Kurt's and dragging their lengths together in one smooth motion.

Kurt's fingers, which always had seemed so delicate before, are digging painfully into the muscles of Dave's ass, but Dave could care less. "Please tell me you have a condom," Kurt pants into Dave's ear.

Dave leans back on his heels so he can reach into the bedside drawer. As soon as he's upright, Kurt wraps a hand around Dave's cock, nearly sending him toppling off the bed in shock. He groans even as he's snatching condoms and lube out of the drawer and dropping them on the bed.

He leans back down over Kurt and starts to kiss his shoulder in preparation for working his way downward, but Kurt snatches the lube off the bed and holds it out. "I can't wait... Just... Just do it."

As much as he'd wanted to do this right, slow and sensual, Kurt clearly isn't in the mood. And after everything they've been through, Dave's willing to do whatever Kurt wants. He grabs the lube out of Kurt's hand and squeezes some on his fingers, sliding his hand down between Kurt's legs with no warning at all. "Yesss," Kurt hisses, spreading his legs for Dave, which is so far beyond hot that Dave has to grab the base of his cock with his free hand and squeeze hard, trying to slow himself down.

He works a finger in, adding more lube as he goes. He starts to go for a second finger but Kurt grabs his wrist. "I don't need it, do it."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not a virgin, Karofsky, just do it."

Dave hates the guys who've been there before him in that moment – hates them – but he's ready to pop and he can't spare too much time for jealousy. He rolls the condom on with one hand as he pulls one of Kurt's legs up over his shoulder. He'd always known Kurt would be like this in bed – flexible, eager. He's so fucking slutty, so hot for it, but he's got that edge of innocence, that sweet face and silky skin, that make it that much hotter when he begs.

Which he does so prettily. "Please, god, fuck me now. Do it now."

"Bossy," Dave complains, sliding his cock into tight heat.

"Ahhhhhhh, yeah. Fuck you, Karofsky," Kurt says, bitchy to the end.

Dave wants to say, 'No, fuck you,' or some equally pithy comeback, but Kurt looks so good and feels even better, and Dave forgets to speak. He holds himself up with one hand so he can stroke Kurt's dick with the other hand, handling him roughly, trying to bring him off first.

He feels a lot better about his own lack of control when Kurt comes fast and hard, shooting all over his own stomach. He's still cursing when Dave comes with a shout, stars exploding behind his eyes.

He rolls off Kurt, mindful of Kurt's smaller stature, and peels away the wet condom, dropping it in the trash can. He swipes himself off with a handful of tissues, leaning over to get the worst of the mess on Kurt's stomach.

"Thanks," Kurt murmurs, already looking like he's going to fall asleep.

Dave isn't sure if he means for the clean-up or for the sex. He gets up and pads naked into the living room to check the locks. Can't be too careful.

When he goes back into the bedroom, Kurt's lying on his side, propped up on one hand. He watches Dave turn off the lights and walk across the room to the bed. "I was wrong," Kurt says as Dave gets into the bed.

"About what?" Dave asks, climbing into bed behind Kurt.

"You're definitely not chubby," Kurt says with a wry smile.

Dave laughs, startled. He's not sure what he thought Kurt might say, but it wasn't that. "M'not bald either."

"Ah, so you remember?"

"I remember everything. All of that. Unfortunately." He snuggles up to Kurt, spooning him and pressing his face into the back of Kurt's hair. Kurt lets him, which is nice.

Kurt is quiet for a while. Dave thinks maybe he's fallen asleep, but then he says, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why me? Why did you...?"

Ah. That. Dave sighs heavily, rustling Kurt's hair. "A lot of reasons, I guess. Mainly it's that I was so... I was so scared. And I felt so alone. You were so popular and so secure. I was jealous of that."

Kurt pulls out of Dave's grasp and rolls to face him. He looks stunned. "Popular? You think I was popular? I was a pariah!"

Dave is genuinely puzzled at that statement. "Every time I saw you, you were with a bunch of people. You had all these friends. I almost never saw you alone. You had a ton of people who were willing to stand up to me for you, even. And your stepbrother dressed in drag to prove a point for you! You were even a cheerleader for a while. I thought you were one of the most popular guys I knew."

Kurt still looks shocked, but he laughs a little. "That's so funny. I never thought of myself that way, but I suppose it's true. At least in part. I didn't feel popular, but I did have really awesome friends."

"Something I didn't have," Dave admits.

"What, friends? What about Azimio and the other football players?"

"They were guys I hung around with at school, but we weren't really close or anything. If I'd... If I'd come out of the closet back then, I don't think they would have stayed my friends."

Kurt nods like he understands and rolls over, scooting back against Dave's body, wordlessly asking to be cuddled again. Dave has no problem complying.

He has more he wants to say, but it feels like Kurt is asleep. His breathing has deepened it's soothing against Dave's chest.

Hopefully Kurt won't freak out in the morning. It's the last thought Dave has before he falls asleep.

When Dave wakes up the next morning, Kurt's gone. Dave panics for a second until he realizes he can hear the shower in the other bathroom. While it's not good that Kurt's out of bed, at least he hasn't left the apartment. Dave puts his boxers back on and walks down the hall to knock on the door. "Morning. You want breakfast?"

Kurt makes a non-committal noise. "Maybe just coffee for now."

"I can do that," Dave says, heading for the kitchen. After he starts the coffee, he goes back to his room and showers. It's Friday and he doesn't have any important meetings, so he just puts on slacks and a shirt and tie, foregoing a full suit.

When he goes back out to the kitchen, Kurt is sitting at the table with both hands wrapped around a mug. He's wearing a pair of Dave's sweatpants, which are way too huge on him, and an enormous FBI t-shirt. He looks fucking adorable, and Dave can't help grinning at him.

"I hope you don't mind. I've worn everything I packed."

"Definitely not. You look really cute, actually." He blushes as he says it, not sure if they're in a place where he can tell Kurt things like that.

"Karofsky, listen," Kurt starts, and Dave can tell by his tone that he's not going to like what Kurt's going to say.

"My name is Dave," he says, interrupting. "I think after last night, you can at least call me by my first name."

Kurt sighs. "Fine, Dave. I think last night was a mistake." Dave's guts clench, even though he'd been pretty sure that's what Kurt was going to say. "I've been in a bad situation and you saved my life, and it just... happened."

"You didn't owe me anything," Dave says quietly, just to get it out there.

"I know that!" Kurt snaps. "That's not what it was about. It was about... comfort. Shocking that you'd be someone who would comfort me, but..."

Dave leans over a little, gripping the counter with both hands. Clearly, nothing has changed. He's still a monster in Kurt's eyes and nothing is going to change that.

He can't think of anything to say in response, so instead he says, "Do you want to stay here this morning while I go to work? You could do your laundry. You wouldn't have to leave the apartment, even. I have a washer and dryer here."

"Fine," Kurt says, his tone distant and indifferent.

"I'll come back on my lunch break, just to be sure. Put the chain on after I go," Dave says. He pours some coffee in a travel mug and leaves without saying goodbye. Kurt doesn't say anything either. Dave stands out in the hall until he hears the chain slide into place before he walks toward the elevator, feeling completely defeated.

When Caroline stops into his office just before lunch and outlines her plan, Dave's only reaction is 'no.'

"No. No. Really, just... no."

Caroline drops her hands on her hips. "It's not your decision, Dave. It's his."

"I know that! Don't act like I don't know that. But I just don't want..." He trails off, looking away. He can't explain why he's so adverse to the idea without incriminating himself.

"You slept with him, didn't you?"

Dave sighs. Sometimes he forgets how perceptive Caroline is. "Damn it, Dave, he's my witness! You were supposed to be protecting him, not seducing him!"

"I didn't seduce him!"

"If you try to tell me that a sweet boy like that –"

"Boy!? He's a year younger than I am! He's thirty-one! And it was his idea, whether you believe me or not."

"Oh, so you outweigh him by a good fifty pounds and you're a trained FBI agent, and you expect me to believe that he, what? Jumped you? Took you by surprise, did he?"

"He didn't use force, but I was behaving myself, and he... Well, I'm not going to discuss the details with you, but I didn't do anything wrong!"

"It doesn't matter. You're going to go get him, bring him to the office, and you're not going to breathe a word of this to him until I can brief him. And if you stray from that plan, I'm going to remove him from your custody so quickly that all you'll see is a tiny blur out of the corner of your eye, do you follow?"

She doesn't exactly have the right to berate him like this, but he knows he fucked up so he takes it. At least she's not reporting him to anyone. "Fine," he says.

"So are you two an item now?"

"That would be a big no," Dave admits.

"I'm sorry," she says, but he can tell she's relieved that he won't complicate her investigation anymore than he already has. "He's still at your apartment, though, yes?"

"Yeah." He doesn't feel like elaborating further, and thankfully she doesn't ask for details.

"Well, I'll see you back here after lunch, then," she says, giving him a sad sort of smile before she goes.

Dave really doesn't want to go home and see Kurt, especially knowing what he's about to be faced with, but it's not like he has a choice. He drives unusually cautiously the whole way there, trying to pretend he's not stalling.

When he gets to the apartment, he knocks, figuring – hoping – that Kurt still has the chain on. He waits while Kurt checks the peephole and unlocks the door. "Hey," Kurt says awkwardly, looking everywhere but Dave's eyes.

"Hey. Ready to go? I figured we could pick up some lunch somewhere on the way."

"Fine with me," Kurt says, stepping into the hall. He's dressed in the same outfit he'd worn the night they left his apartment and it makes Dave feel strangely protective.

"So what did you do while I was gone? You weren't too bored, were you?" Dave asks, trying to make conversation.

"Laundry, mostly. And I went through your things for a while." Kurt manages to smile a little as he says it, but he's still not making eye contact.

"Did you?" Dave wonders if he's telling the truth. He's got nothing to hide – and he sure as hell wouldn't leave Kurt alone in his apartment if he did – so he's amused by the idea of it.

"A little. You've definitely learned how to dress, although some of your underwear is completely disreputable." Dave bursts out laughing and nearly stumbles trying to step into the elevator. Kurt ignores him and breezes past, pressing the lobby button. "I may have disposed of a few items."

The idea of Kurt culling his underwear drawer is so domestic than he has to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for him and grabbing him in a hug. Kurt doesn't seem to notice, thankfully. "And some of the items in your nightstand drawer were interesting, too..."

Dave laughs again. "I hope you washed anything you used."

"Disgusting!" Kurt says, but his outrage is clearly fake. They smile at each other directly for the first time, and Dave feels something relax inside. Maybe they'll be okay after all.

They pass the drive with discussion about food, and Dave drops Kurt and his lunch in Caroline's office. He squeezes Kurt's shoulder on the way out, willing him strength. He's going to need it.

Dave ends up going out of the office for the afternoon, riding along with one of the other agents on a bust. He gets back to work sweaty and tired, and he finds Kurt waiting in his office. Kurt's got a pissy look on his face that immediately changes to concern when he sees Dave. "Are you okay?" he asks, getting out of his chair.

"Yeah, I'm fine, why?"

"That looks like... blood on your shirt."

Dave follows Kurt's gaze. "Oh, maybe a little. One of the guys had to shoot a perp who was fleeing. The guy's okay, though. It just winged him. He'll live to stand trial." Dave stops talking when Kurt sinks back down in his seat, clearly shaken. "It's okay, Kurt, I promise."

"Sorry, I just realized that you sometimes have to shoot people."

"You've seen my gun," Dave says, belatedly realizing that it sounds a bit suggestive. Luckily, Kurt doesn't take the bait.

"Yes, but... Anyway." He shakes himself a little and continues. "Do you know what Agent Stevens wants me to do?"

"Yeah, she told me."

"And you didn't warn me?" Kurt looks betrayed and it hurts more than it should.

"She asked me not to."

"Why?"

Dave sighs. "Probably because I had such a negative reaction when she told me. I think she thought I'd try to talk you out of it."

"Will you?"

"It's not my place, Kurt."

"She wants me to confront Evan! Wearing a wire! It's dangerous! You could end up with my blood on your shirt next!"

"God, Kurt," Dave says, grabbing the edge of the desk for support.

"But you're still going to ask me to do it?"

"I'm not going to ask you to do it! But..." Dave gulps, struggling for the right words. "Who am I to tell you what to do? I'm an FBI agent who has you under protective custody. That's all. You've made it clear that we're not friends. And we're definitely not more than that."

"There's a condom in your trash can that says different!" Kurt snaps.

"News to me!" Dave barks back, suddenly angry. Where does Kurt get off acting like Dave is garbage this morning, and then trying to say they're lovers or something when he's got a favor to ask? "You said it was a mistake, Kurt," he says, trying to get himself under control. "You can't have it both ways."

Kurt looks away, hopefully feeling guilty. As he should. He takes a deep breath before he speaks. "You're right. I was out of line. You said you owed me, and it's true. You did. At one point in my life, I hated you more than anything in this world. But that was a long time ago and you've more than repaid your debt. What are we to each other? We're even. That's what we are. Nothing more than that. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go put myself in Agent Stevens's hands."

He gets up and walks to the door. Dave shoots out a hand to stop him. "Do you... Do you forgive me?"

"For what?"

"For everything. For high school, for last night, all of it."

Kurt meets his eyes finally. "For high school, yes. I said we're even, and I meant it. But you didn't do anything wrong last night. I'll... I suppose I'll see you later," he finishes awkwardly, and shakes Dave's hand off his arm. He's out the door and into the hall before Dave can respond in any way. Not that he knows what he would have said, but still.

"Fuck," he says to the empty room. Kurt's going to go risk getting hurt – getting killed – and there's not a damn thing Dave can do about it.

Although that's not true. There's one thing he can do. He picks up the phone and dials directly to Caroline's office. "It's Dave, but pretend it's not. I don't want to spook Kurt. Can you do that?"

"Of course. How can I help you?"

"Whenever, wherever this is going down, I'm going to be there."

"I don't think that would be the best idea."

"Damn it, Caroline! I'll stay in the back. I'll sit in a truck if I have to. He doesn't need to know I'm there. But I'm going to be there."

She sighs. "Fine. I'll get back to you with details."

"Thank you," he breathes, relief flooding his chest. "I owe you one."

"That's correct. Goodbye," she says, hanging up the phone.

Now there's nothing left to do but wait.

The weekend passes and Dave doesn't see so much as a glimpse of Kurt. Caroline assures him that Kurt is fine, resting comfortably in one of the FBI's safe houses, and that he's under surveillance at all times. It doesn't do much to help Dave's mood, though. He spends Saturday and Sunday skulking around the apartment, alternately missing Kurt's presence and cursing himself for getting so attached.

It's not until Tuesday, while he's sitting in his office catching up on mind-numbing paperwork, that Caroline calls him. "It's happening tonight," she says, not bothering with a greeting. He fumbles for his pen and a pad, ready to jot down the details. "There's an event at the gallery. Kurt's going to show up and mostly just try to gauge Kensington's response to his presence. He'll be wired up and he'll be carrying an auxiliary recording device in a bag. Standard procedure. We'll have a team a block away, listening in and ready to move. We've also got an agent who'll attend the event undercover, just in case. And no, you can not be that agent."

"I'll be in the truck," he says, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

"Yes, but so help me, if you think with your dick or your heart – whichever stage of this little love affair you're in – and do something to screw this up, I'll have your badge."

He refrains from pointing out that she's not his superior, not wanting to jeopardize his involvement. "I got it."

She gives him a few more details and he takes notes, all business already. She doesn't need to worry. He's not going to do something stupid and risk Kurt's safety.

However, after Kurt's been extracted and the bad guy's been apprehended, well... At that point, all bets are off, and it's entirely likely he'll do something stupid, like beg Kurt to give him another chance.

He realizes that he's hoping he'll get the opportunity to do something heroic so Kurt will fall into his arms. Which is so far beyond pathetic that he might as well be back in high school, closeted and scared, shoving his crush into lockers.

Sighing, Dave puts his head down on his desk in defeat. He just has to pray that everything goes smoothly and that Kurt stays safe. He can't even consider the alternative.

Dave hasn't been this much of a wreck since his first stakeout. He's sweating and nervous and has chewed off every single one of his fingernails. The other agents in the truck with him are wavering between amusement and confusion. It's not like his co-workers don't know he's gay, but it seems like knowing that he's gay in a theoretical sense and watching him have a complete mental breakdown because he's half in love with the guy wearing the wire that they're monitoring are two different things.

Thankfully, since they're sort of tiptoeing around the whole thing, they're not expecting much from Dave which is good. Caroline is running the show anyway, and everyone's busy following her instructions.

Dave climbs out of his stupor when he hears Caroline say, "Here we go," her voice hushed. "We have contact with the target." Everyone sits, tense and poised, as they listen to the recording.

He hears a nasally voice exclaim, "Kurt! Where on earth have you been, darling? I've been trying to get you on the phone for eons!"

Kensington's tone sounds desperate and strained. Kurt says, "I'm so sorry, Evan, really. I've been out of town. Family emergency, you know how it is." He sounds so calm and poised that Dave's strangely proud of him.

"Of course darling, say no more. Now won't you come up to the office for a moment? I simply have to speak with you."

"Yes, but I can't stay. I have plans this evening."

"Have you moved on already? I simply can't fathom it! You must know I'm still a wreck after our break up."

"It's not a date. I'm just meeting a friend," Kurt says. There's some shuffling and the sound of a door closing.

Then Kurt gasps as Dave hears fabric tearing. "I knew it!" Kensington's voice is much harsher now, and Dave grips the side of the bench seat. "You little bitch!"

"Evan, relax," Kurt's voice fades, and Dave realizes he's unhooked the wire and his voice is now being picked up by the recorder in his bag. "I know you didn't do anything wrong, but I could have been arrested if I didn't cooperate."

"This isn't cooperating," Kensington says.

"I was made. Isn't that what they call it? I can't be blamed for that. I did what they asked me, and now we can talk. Evan, listen to me. They think you did this on purpose. You have to go to the police and explain that there was some kind of mistake."

Kensington makes a frustrated noise. "Kurt, you know I would never have put you in a situation like that. Of course it was a mistake. You believe me, don't you?"

"I just said I did." Kurt makes a little gasp. "What are you doing?"

"Just making sure you're clean. And I've missed you." Kensington's voice has turned seductive and Dave breathes harder, trying to keep himself calm.

"Oh, Evan," Kurt says, his voice dropping an octave.

"What the hell is this, Caroline?" Dave demands, standing up quickly and nearly hitting his head on the truck's roof.

"Agent Karofsky, you need to sit down or get out of the truck."

Dave sits, but he's not happy about it. "What did you ask him to do?"

Caroline looks uncomfortable, and Dave wants to shake her. There are unmistakable sounds of kissing now, and one of the other agents turns down the volume.

"Evan," Kurt says, his voice rough, "you have to tell me. I know you didn't mean for me to get in the middle of this, but did you know about the painting? We need to figure out what's happening here."

"Later, darling. First, get on your knees."

Dave punches the metal wall of the truck so hard that the skin on two of his knuckles splits open. Caroline points at the door. "Out."

Dave grits his teeth, but he opens the door and hops down. Honestly, he'd rather not hear this at all. He's going to kill Evan Kensington. And then Caroline. And then possibly Kurt. He knows he's got no claim on Kurt whatsoever, though. They had a one night stand, and that's all it was.

But he can't help feeling like there's something there. Something that could happen if Kurt would let it. He has Kurt's forgiveness now. The rest of it shouldn't be so damn hard.

The truck door cracks and one of the other agents pokes his head out. "We have a confession. We're moving to extract."

Dave practically bowls him over getting back into the truck. He knows he's not going to be leading the charge, but he can't help his eagerness to get to Kurt.

The extraction operation goes off without a hitch. The guests at the gallery are shocked and alarmed when several FBI agents storm the place, but no one draws a gun or anything. Nothing that prevents them from going up to the office and arresting Kensington, his pants still around his ankles.

Kurt still has his pants on – thank god – and he looks around, panicked, until he sees Dave. Dave pushes people out of the way until he can grab Kurt. He wraps both arms around him and just holds on. Kurt clings to him just as hard.

Dave releases him long enough for him to put his shirt back on and then he resumes his hold. "Do you want to ride back in the truck or take a cab?" Dave asks, just to say something.

"Let's get a cab. Can we go to your apartment?" he asks, and Dave smiles into his hair.

"Eventually, yeah, but Caroline is going to want to debrief you I'm sure."

"Can't we do it tomorrow?" Kurt asks, looking up at Dave with tired eyes.

"We can," Caroline says, from somewhere behind them. "We'll be busy with Kensington for a while. Take Mr. Hummel and get out of here, but I expect you in my office first thing in the morning, alright?"

"We'll be there," Dave promises. He mouths 'thank you' to Caroline over Kurt's head. She smiles a little and waves them off.

Dave keeps Kurt tucked under his arm all the way out to the street, while he hails a cab, and for the entire ride home. Kurt fits there like he was made for Dave, and Dave has no intention of letting him go.

They have a lot to talk about, but a taxi isn't the place to do it, so Dave sits, content with the contact for now.

When they get to Dave's apartment, Kurt sags against him. "Thanks for getting me out of there."

"Of course. Do you want anything? Water? Something stronger?"

"The latter, please. This whole day has been…" He waves his hand in the air like he's trying to snatch an appropriate word.

"Shitty?" Dave suggests.

Kurt gives him a small smile. "Yes. You have wine?"

Dave isn't much of a wine connoisseur, but he's got a few bottles on hand for guests. "Red or white?"

"Red, please. Do you mind if I go change? I don't want to be… wearing this."

"Go ahead," Dave says, trying not to think about what Kurt was doing in those clothes. The knees are probably dirty from the gallery office floor.

He selects a bottle of Shiraz that he knows he likes and grabs two glasses from the cupboard. He's just setting the filled glasses on the coffee table when Kurt emerges, wearing those blue silky pajamas. "I didn't want to waste my only other clean outfit," he explains, looking slightly embarrassed.

Dave's glad, since Kurt looks adorable, but he doesn't say so. "Well, things are probably settled enough now that you can go back to your apartment."

Kurt curls into the chair, tucking his bare toes under his leg. "I don't know. This is starting to feel like home."

Dave nearly drops the wine glass he was about the hand to Kurt, but he recovers enough to pass it over with some grace. Kurt reaches up like he's going to take the glass, but his hand keeps going until he tugs at Dave's shoulder. It takes Dave a second to realize what's happening, but he gets with the program and leans down to kiss Kurt's upturned mouth.

He pulls away after just a brief brush of lips, before he can spill the wine or get his pride wounded again. He hands Kurt the glass. "We can't just do this every time I rescue you."

Kurt looks away. "I hope you won't need to rescue me again."

"That's not the point," Dave says softly, sinking onto the couch with his own glass.

Kurt takes a deep drink, draining almost a third of the glass in one go. "I'm sorry. I've been a jerk. It's not easy to find yourself attracted to someone you've spent half your life hating. It's even harder to discover that you genuinely like them, as a person."

"You like me now?" Dave asks, permitting himself a small smile.

"Shut up, I'm trying to apologize. My point is… I realize I don't hate you anymore."

"Be still my heart," Dave says, in good spirits now. He likes where the conversation is going, and he suspects he knows where it'll end.

"Shut up! Anyway, I shouldn't have said that what happened the other night was a mistake. I didn't do it because I was scared and grateful. Well, maybe a little," Kurt amends with a smirk. "But it was more about how you look in a suit, brandishing a gun like some… movie star." He pauses a little, a slightly dreamy look on his face, and Dave realizes he's grinning like an idiot. "And you were nice to me. You took care of me when I needed it."

Kurt drains his wineglass and puts it on the end table. "Is that enough?"

"Enough wine?"

"No, enough compliments?"

Dave chuckles. "Enough compliments for what?"

"Enough for me to do this," Kurt says, uncurling himself from the chair and climbing into Dave's lap. He sits, straddling Dave's thighs, and cups both sides of Dave's face, stroking a little with his thumbs, like he's trying to memorize the feel of the skin.

Dave puts his glass down on the table and curls his hands around Kurt's hips, echoing Kurt's thumb movements by rubbing over the sharp juts of his hipbones through his thin silky pants. "I don't know. Are you going to ditch me in the morning?"

"No. Are you going to throw me in a dumpster?"

"Touché," Dave says, still rubbing.

"Why don't we just agree to start fresh and stop hurting each other?" Kurt suggests, moving his hands down to Dave's neck, pressing a finger against his jumping pulse.

Dave nods and it's as easy as that. Sixteen years of guilt and resentment fall away as Kurt leans down to kiss him, running his tongue over Dave's lip. He moves his hands up again, sliding a finger along the path he's just traced with his tongue before he pushes it between Dave's lips. Dave bites down gently on the soft tip and Kurt moans.

They're both hard, but there's no sense of urgency. Not like the last time. Dave senses that this time is going to be very different.

Kurt pulls his finger away and tightens his arms around Dave's neck, pressing his cheek against Dave's temple. Dave slides both hands under Kurt's butt and lifts him up. Kurt clings tightly to Dave's neck as Dave stands up as smoothly as he can manage, carrying Kurt with him into the bedroom.

He deposits Kurt on the bed and turns back toward the living room. "Let me just check the lock," he says, apologetic for needing to break the mood.

"My hero," Kurt says, pressing his hand to his forehead like a Southern belle.

Dave sticks his tongue out and Kurt laughs. As he walks into the living room Kurt calls, "I have plans for that tongue."

"Yeah, so do I," Dave calls back, checking the lock and shutting off the lights.

He looks around the room, taking in Kurt's glass on the table, his shoes by the door, and his sweater draped over a kitchen chair. It wasn't long ago that he'd wanted to kill Evan Kensington with his bare hands, but now he's pretty sure he ought to send the man flowers because without him, Kurt wouldn't be back in his life.

"Did you get lost?" Kurt calls from the other room.

Dave shakes his head, glad Kurt hasn't changed much at all. He goes back into the bedroom and Kurt is lying across the bed, stark naked.

Fuck flowers, he's sending Kensington a cake with a file in it. The man is his new hero. "Didn't get lost," he says, yanking his clothes off as quickly as he can. "I think I got found."

"Stop being sappy and come blow me," Kurt says.

"Bossy," Dave mutters. But honestly? He wouldn't have it any other way.

~The End~