School the next day is the same as ever. Coach Beiste corners him before third period to ream him out for missing practice, but seems mollified when Dave hastily concocts a vivid tale of virulent (though short-lived) stomach flu. Dave gets the assignment for government from another one of the guys on the team and doesn't even rate an raised eyebrow from Ms. Johnson when he turns it in with the rest of the class. Football practice that afternoon is demanding but no more than usual and Dave lets the sting of hot water ease away the ache in his muscles afterwards.
It's not until Dave checks his phone while he's changing back into his regular clothes that he gets his first surprise of the day. Missed calls: 1
Dave just stares at his phone, dumbfounded. No way. No way that out of all the possible times Hummel could have called, he had gone and picked the one time Dave wouldn't be able to answer him. That just wasn't fair.
It was also probably deliberate, Dave realizes suddenly, as he catches sight of Hudson pulling on fresh socks further down on the bench. Of course Hummel would be able to find out what times the football team practiced. His freaking stepbrother was on the team. Which meant, since he hadn't left Dave a voicemail, that Hummel had most likely called simply to verify Dave's identity.
Dave wastes a few seconds panicking over whether he still has that embarrassing gangsta rap he did with Azimio as his voicemail message before he remembers that he changed it to something more professional when he started giving out his number out to colleges.
Dave forces himself to refocus. Okay, so apparently Hummel had got his message and now he should know that it was safe for him to come back. Dave's work here is done. He debates furiously with himself about whether or not he should delete the number in his call history as a courtesy before ultimately breaking down and saving it as "Fancy."
Of course, as with all things Hummel, Dave should have known better than to expect things would just end there. When Dave arrives at his locker the next morning, none other than Mercedes Jones is there waiting for him.
She gives him a quick once-over with heavy-lidded eyes, looking unimpressed. "What's your game, Karofsky?" she asks bluntly.
Dave pushes past her and starts spinning the dial on his lock. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm talking about you making a trip to see my boy Kurt down at Dalton," she says. She raises her eyebrows. "You wanna tell me what that's about?"
Dave ignores her as he shoves books in. "Just thought I'd let him know he could come back if he wants," he offers lightly, refusing to look her in the face.
"Excuse me for having a hard time understanding why you'd care," Mercedes snaps. "You're the reason he left in the first place. You expect us to believe you and your friends all suddenly found Jesus or something?" she sasses, getting all up in his space.
Dave slams his locker door shut. Mercedes, to her credit, doesn't flinch. "Look," he says carefully, counting backwards from ten in his head, "I've got hockey coaches looking at me for scholarship. I'm not going to risk that by screwing around with you nerds. So if Hummel wants to come back, he's safe."
Mercedes doesn't budge. "That still doesn't answer the question of why you care," she says pointedly.
Dave gives up. "Maybe it'll get Coach Sylvester off my back," he tosses out randomly and clumsily makes his escape.
Mercedes doesn't seek him out again, but over the next couple weeks Dave catches her sending a number of appraising looks his way. Dave ignores them, goes back to pretending that Glee club doesn't exist and that football is totally as exciting as hockey this year. Dave tried, okay? He made the effort to apologize, and it’s not his fault if none of the other people involved were even remotely willing to believe him. As far as Dave is concerned, his conscience is clear. He actually manages to forget about the conversation entirely by the time the second week of November rolls around.
Which is why the first glimpse of tailored blue cashmere takes him completely by surprise.
Kurt Hummel walks back into McKinley wearing knee-high battle boots and flanked by what must be no less than half the members of Glee club. His face is tight and determined and his friends survey the hallway like they're daring anyone to try making a comment on his return. Dave, for his part, can only stop and stare.
He got taller, Dave thinks inanely as he takes in the strangely familiar sight of Hummel's signature flagrance. He's paired a knee length sweater with plaid pants today for his reintroduction, along with an elaborate brooch that takes up half of his chest. The outfit shouldn't make any sense. In fact, it doesn’t, and it literally makes Dave's eyes tired just looking at it. Yet at the same time it's proud and fierce and so intrinsically, impossibly Hummel that Dave can’t help but break into a tiny grin at the sight.
One of Hummel’s friends is making a joke and Hummel is laughing when his eyes finally land on Dave, catching sight of where he’s stopped by the lockers. Hummel's laughter cuts off quickly, though not enough so that his friends notice, and he surveys Dave with an openly wary expression.
It's enough to startle Dave out of his sudden high fashion coma. He meets Hummel's gaze levelly and gives him a solemn jerk of his head. Hey. We’re cool now, he tries to communicate.
Hummel just stares evenly back. We’ll see, his face reads.
True to his word, Dave stays away from Hummel at McKinley, doesn't seek him out or bother him in any way. He even keeps a few of the younger jocks from planning anything too nasty, though honestly most of them are too nervous to try anything with a senior anyway. Hummel loses his constant edge of wariness about a month in, and when he passes Dave in the halls now his expression is at least neutral if still not exactly friendly.
Dave doesn't have the brain cells to waste over-analyzing the situation because hockey season has started up again. Every spare minute Dave's not on the ice he spends going over his playbook or catching up frantically on homework. The different college coaches start calling him weekly again, and Dave listens closely to the advice they offer him on tightening his game. None of them come out and say that they're recruiting him for scholarship, but they all make it pretty clear that Dave's on their shortlist.
His parents are thrilled by the extra attention he’s receiving and start making a point of coming to his games. His mom leads the other parents in cheers and even his dad shouts when the referee makes an obviously biased call. It's kind of nice having them there, actually, and Dave definitely doesn't mind when they take him out for pizza afterwards. The way they gush over his game, though inexpert in the extreme, makes him feel proud to be their son even if he's pretty sure he's not what either of them expected.
Dave flies out to see Boston University in February. He applied to the school back in November after they offered him an official visit, but this is the first time he's actually toured the campus. It's nothing like any other college he's visited. For one, it's most definitely an urban campus. Technically, OSU had been one too, but even there Dave had seen the usual clusters of students hanging out on the massive green commons that made up the OSU Oval. Here at BU, there's almost no distinction between the campus proper and the entire city of Boston. In fact, they're seamlessly situated together, which fascinates and overwhelms Dave all at once.
He keeps an open mind, tours Agganis Arena and is properly impressed by its size and design. He actually manages to catch a far-off glimpse of Coach Parker while he's there and has to resist the urge to run up to the man and ask for his autograph. Overall, though, the visit leaves Dave feeling mostly ambivalent about attending the school. It's not until he steps off the campus that Dave sees something to make him rethink his initial impression.
Two men are walking down the street, and from the way they're holding hands it's pretty obvious that they're together. They have a little girl in overalls with them. She can't be more than four or five and she seems unable to stop chattering about the animals she plans to see at the aquarium. Dave watches one of them lean down to listen to her as she gives them a very serious explanation of which animals they have to see first and realizes "those three are a family." He catches sight of the matching rings on the two men's hands and realizes further "those men are married."
A small, quiet place in the back of Dave’s mind shoves abruptly to the front. Idly, Dave's been making plans to come out in college for the past six months. He doesn’t intend to stay in the closet forever and college just seems like a safer place to be out and proud than Lima. Somehow, though, it had never once occurred to Dave that he could also have the choice to attend school in a state where same-sex marriage was legal. No one would look at Dave weird if he decided to come out here. Hell, they'd probably laugh and point him to the nearest gay bar. Dave looks at the busy city of Boston with a whole new light and folds the university brochure carefully in his bag for the flight home.
His parents react to his newfound enthusiasm for going to school out of state with vague confusion but unquestioning support. Dave doesn't tell anyone at school about his plans, just starts carrying around BU promotional material in addition to his other stuff for Miami and OSU. Everyone knows he's considering Boston inside of a week anyway, thanks to the veritable information osmosis that is McKinley's gossip chain.
The best part about having an extremely active gossip machine, including one particularly overzealous "celebrity" blog, is that Dave in turn gets to hear about the programs and colleges that other kids are considering too. It's how he finds out that Berry and Hummel are seeking acceptance at musical theatre schools, and that Berry's dad apparently drove them both up together for some multiple audition shindig in Chicago. Berry's being obnoxiously vocal (as per usual) about her burning desire to attend school in New York, but Hummel seems to be favoring a couple other locations more. Most notably, his number one choice, if Israel’s blog can be believed, appears to be none other than Boston Conservatory.
Dave's heart stutters a little when he hears.
Okay, so maybe Dave's slightly less over Kurt Hummel than he'd like to admit. The situation is totally not Dave's fault. Hummel's the kind of guy who's just impossible to forget, the kind who manages to draw attention to himself simply by virtue of existing. Whenever he struts down the halls Dave's eyes can't help but rivet on him every time, and he's been walking with a new confidence lately that is nothing less than captivating. Dave doesn't know if it comes from Dalton or doing theater auditions or just the fact that he's a senior, but privately Dave thinks that it's the hottest thing he's ever seen.
If Hummel's looking at Boston, then maybe he and Dave have a chance of someday breaking the holding pattern they're in. Dave's not saying Hummel's going to turn around and want Dave for his boyfriend. He's not actually delusional, thanks. But maybe they could, you know, be friends and book flights out together or something. It would be a start.
Dave tries slowly being friendlier to Hummel -- nothing big, just nods when he passes him in the halls and the occasional quick comment on one of his outfits. At first Hummel reacts like he thinks Dave has brain damage, gaping after him in a way Dave wishes he didn't still find stupidly attractive. Gradually, though, Hummel's look morphs from slightly pained confusion to a sort of longsuffering patience tinged with amusement. It's the same look that he wears around everyone who doesn't wear designer labels or pull their looks off the runway. It goes beyond neutral -- verges on friendly even -- and Dave is inexplicably heartened by the sight of it.
If the look reminds Dave just a little of the one that Hummel wore during the week between the kiss and the death threat, during that short time when he'd seemed both open and sympathetic to Dave, well, that's no one's business but his own.
The last Friday in March dawns bright and clear. The whole school is abuzz with energy when Dave walks in, though it takes him a couple of periods to find out the reason: Hummel received confirmation from Boston Conservatory today. He's been accepted. A carefully hidden sense of excitement swells wordlessly in Dave's chest.
He bides his time and waits until after school to seek Hummel out. Dave wants to congratulate him on this in private, and with the way that Hummel's Glee friends keep popping up out of nowhere to tackle him in their mutual excitement it just seems like waiting is Dave’s best option.
He makes sure to keep things casual as he approaches, nothing in his step to suggest that Dave is as nervous as hell about this going well. "Yo, Hummel," he calls.
Hummel turns. "Karofsky," he says, voice even. It's not exactly welcoming, but it's not hostile either, more like Hummel is merely waiting to see what Dave wants.
Dave barrels on hurriedly. "Congratulations on being accepted to the Conservatory," he blurts out. "Boston or bust, right?" He lifts his hand for a fist bump before he realizes that Hummel probably doesn't do that and drops it quickly.
Hummel, as it so happens, isn't even looking at Dave. "Yeah," he returns quietly, gaze fixed suddenly on the inner contents of his locker. "Right."
Something niggles in the back of Dave’s mind at Hummel’s lackluster response. He realizes abruptly that Hummel doesn't seem nearly as excited about Boston now here with Dave as he has virtually all day around his friends. In fact, if Dave were to pick a word for it, he'd label the look that Hummel’s currently sporting as dejected. "That's great," Dave continues desperately after a long moment, because he doesn’t know what else to say in light of Hummel’s apathy. He decides to feel out Hummel's inclination toward possible future interaction instead. "I mean, I got accepted out in Boston too, so maybe we'll be flight buddies some time, huh?" Dave offers gamely.
Hummel doesn't say anything in response, but something in his expression changes to suggest he somehow just swallowed a lemon.
Dave tries to make a joke out of it. "Come on, Hummel," he says, even as his heart sinks. "Don't lie. You know you still want a piece of the Fury."
Hummel stiffens and it occurs belatedly to Dave that that probably wasn't the best kind of joke to make given their history. He's about to apologize and make his excuses to leave when Hummel's eyes snap to his. He gives Dave a long slow look up and down, his gaze lingering noticeably on Dave's hands. "I could go for a taste of the Fury now," he says idly. His eyes flicker back to Dave's. "If you're interested."
Dave's mind screeches to a halt.
"What?" he manages finally, because this is Hummel and this is Dave and the two of them are barely not enemies at this point and Hummel can't possibly be offering him--
"Sex, Karofsky," Hummel states bluntly, clearing up any remaining doubts. He steps in closer to Dave. "I know that you still watch me," he says softly. "Don't deny I'm something you want."
Dave swallows. "No, I mean-- yeah," he breathes.
The ends of Kurt's lips curve up briefly. "Finn and Rachel might be at my house," he says briskly, all business. "What time do your parents get home?"
"Not until late," says Dave dazedly. "My dad's practice is hosting a dinner tonight."
Hummel nods. "I don't know where your house is so I'll follow you in my car. Meet me outside in ten minutes." He pulls out his phone and heads off with the obvious intention of making some calls.
Dave, on the other hand, stays rooted dumbly where he's standing, mind whirling with the realization that he basically just propositioned Hummel and Hummel had -- no two ways about it -- accepted. The world seems tilted on its axis, all previous knowledge Dave once had now declared null. He almost wants to call a timeout to stop and think, try to make the world make sense again, but he's afraid that if he does this will all turn out to have just been one of his calculus fantasies. Dave hates the thought that he might actually be that pathetic.
Hummel meets him in the parking lot and the heat of his gaze makes Dave fumble putting the keys into his car. Dave doesn't live far, only a couple miles, so it's less than fifteen minutes later that they're parking in his driveway and walking up to his door.
Dave's hand is sweaty, but he grabs Hummel's anyway as he wrestles with the lock. Hummel doesn't resist, just lets Dave lead him into the house without a single scathing comment or squawk of indignation. Dave sneaks a look at his face as they climb the stairs, tries to get a feel for what's going on in his head, but Hummel's face is blank and gives away nothing. Dave has no idea what made Hummel accept his proposition (inadvertent though it was), but he's pretty sure it wasn't due to a sudden revelation of mutual admiration.
In fact, Dave suspects heavily he should stop this here and send Hummel home, maybe run some laps to cool off, but he can't. He can't because he's been dreaming about this opportunity ever since Hummel first came back to McKinley and now that it's happening Dave can't pass it up.
The uneasy feeling in his stomach just won’t quit, though, so Dave pushes Hummel up against the door of his room the moment it closes and kisses him before he can lose his nerve. Dave's a little more forceful than he intends to be with the push and Hummel lets out a quiet "oof" of surprise as his back hits the door. Dave barely manages to dart out a hand to cradle the back of Hummel’s head in time, but Hummel doesn’t even seem to notice. He’s too busy responding enthusiastically to the kiss, grabbing Dave's jacket and pulling him in closer. Dave ends up putting his hands on Hummel's face just to slow him down.
After all, Dave's had over a year to think of what he would do if he ever got a second chance with Kurt Hummel. There's no way he's wasting this opportunity.
He slides fingers greedily through Hummel's hair, repositioning them both to kiss better. Hummel resists the change with an impatient noise but obligingly adjusts to the new position. His lips are firm and insistent against Dave's and Dave tries teasing each of them individually to get them to relax. It works like magic. Hummel's mouth falls open a little as the tension leaves, his bottom lip jutting out at the perfect angle for Dave to suck on gently. He lavishes it with careful attention, rolling his tongue over the seam and tugging lightly before reluctantly letting go in favor of swiping his tongue deeper into Hummel's mouth.
Hummel's tongue meets his own almost immediately and Dave groans at the sudden new influx of sensation. His hands drop to wrap around Hummel's waist and Hummel's own hands slide reflexively up Dave’s chest to compensate. Dave pulls their hips then so that they're flush against one another, licking into Hummel's mouth and tangling their tongues together languidly. Dave feels like he could be content just to stand here and kiss forever, but Hummel's hands have a different agenda in mind. They start working aggressively to slide Dave's letterman jacket off his shoulders, forcing Dave to relinquish his treasured grip on Hummel’s hips in order to fully shrug it off. The jacket hits the floor with a soft thump and Dave starts fumbling automatically with the buttons on Hummel's shirt, withdrawing from Hummel's mouth in order to nuzzle and press kisses lightly along his jaw line.
Hummel's breathing a little heavier now, his pulse rapid underneath Dave's lips as Dave gently unwraps his scarf to suck kisses down the gradually exposed line of his throat. "Karofsky," he gasps desperately at one particularly sensitive point, and Dave moves to breathe in his ear.
"Call me Dave," he ghosts across the shell, because he thinks in this space it should be okay. Hummel shivers and Dave proceeds to nibble lightly on the outer edge.
"Dave," Hummel manages after another moment. "Dave, I don't think--"
Dave pulls back abruptly, leaving Hummel to slide with a muffled thump against the door. Hummel looks utterly wrecked as he tips his head back toward the ceiling, half-open shirt exposing the pale column of his throat and his mouth kissed red and shiny with spit. He’s the most beautiful thing that Dave’s ever seen and he makes something deep in Dave's chest ache. None of that changes the fact that Hummel might have just said no.
"Change your mind again, Hummel?" Dave asks gruffly, feeling oddly naked even though as a matter of technicality Hummel is the one wearing the least clothing right now.
Hummel raises an amused eyebrow at him. "I think after that at least you can call me Kurt," he says dryly.
Dave bites back the urge to say something equally cutting in reply. "Kurt," he grits, and tries hard not to think about how this is the second time ever that Dave's used Hummel's first name. "You want to leave?" he repeats.
"I want to stay," Hummel--Kurt replies, shifting uncomfortably. His eyes flicker briefly to Dave's chest. "But--"
Dave cuts him off. "If you want to stay, then we do this my way," he says firmly, because he really doesn’t want to know how that sentence ends.
Kurt looks discomfited but exhales slowly and nods. "I'll stay," he promises.
"You sure?" Dave asks again -- just to be clear -- but his traitorous hands are already stretching out toward Kurt.
"I'm sure," Kurt says, stepping forward to meet Dave in a surprisingly soft kiss.
The dynamic between them is different now, somehow gentler than before. Dave works lazily to unbutton the bottom half of Kurt's shirt as they kiss, sliding it reverently off him once he finishes. He tosses the shirt after a moment's thought in the direction of his desk chair (when it occurs to him that Kurt's clothes could probably pay for half of Dave's entire wardrobe) and guides Kurt to lie backward on his bed.
Kurt props himself up to watch with heavy-lidded eyes as Dave pulls off his own shirt and then pulls Dave's head down for a kiss once he climbs on the bed to lean over Kurt. They're both still wearing their pants, which is something that Dave thinks should be remedied shortly, but for now Dave has the entire expanse of Kurt's chest to explore. Kurt shivers a little when his mouth strays too near his nipple and Dave can't help the way that he then goes to suck it in and swirls his tongue gently. He gives his other nipple the same attention, waits for the sound of Kurt's barely audible keening before ultimately continuing on his downward path.
He presses a kiss to Kurt's navel as he fumbles with his zipper. "You really are beautiful, you know," he murmurs softly against Kurt's skin, surprising himself and Kurt both.
"Dave," Kurt starts hesitantly, sounding uncertain.
Dave hurries to get Kurt's pants open. "Lift your hips," he says quickly, fighting off the creeping flush of embarrassment.
Kurt obliges and Dave tugs his pants and boxers down and off. Dave's not so sure about this next part but he knows what he wants to do in theory, so Dave just goes for broke and moves his mouth down lower.
From the muffled noise Kurt starts making, what he's doing is definitely working. Kurt's hands are white-knuckled in the sheets and on impulse Dave grabs one to place on his head. Kurt looks at him incredulously but nonetheless threads his fingers through Dave's hair and thrusts up gently. The shallow movement makes Dave's eyes water but it's also so full and good and Dave bobs his head with renewed enthusiasm. He's almost disappointed a few minutes later when Kurt abruptly slides his other hand into Dave's hair and pulls him off.
"Gonna come," Kurt gasps and Dave snakes a hand down between them just in time to finish him off.
Kurt comes with a choked-off groan that sends heat raging through Dave's blood. He doesn't even care about the mess, just hauls himself up to Kurt's lips and kisses him desperately through the aftershocks. Eventually Kurt's lips slacken against Dave's, his breaths slowing down to shallow little pants. Dave buries his face helplessly in the crook of Kurt's neck, listens to the fluttering thrum of his pulse, and tries hard not to think about the tightness in his own jeans.
Kurt apparently has other ideas. "I know you said we're doing this your way," he whispers, carding a hand through Dave's hair before bringing his mouth to Dave's ear, "But there's a condom in my pants if you want."
Dave pulls back to stare at Kurt. "Why would you--" He stops, unable to complete the question.
Kurt smiles lazily. "Thought I might be celebrating today," he replies, a little distant. He levers himself up to reach for his pants and pauses. "You got any lube?" he asks suddenly.
Dave stumbles to fetch the bottle from where it's hidden in his dresser, face flaming as he remembers walking into the store on the college campus just to prove that he could. He'd never been more relieved in his life to have a cashier that was female and in her mid-20s at check-out. She'd all but winked at Dave as she rang him up and then wished him luck as he left.
Dave passes the lube to Kurt for inspection and he gives it a cursory glance before handing it back. "That should work fine," he says and curves an eyebrow at Dave. "How do you want me?"
Dave swallows and a dozen possibilities fly through his mind but in reality there's only one answer. "Just like that," he says hoarsely.
Kurt doesn't say anything in response, just leans back and spreads his legs wider. Dave fumbles with the button on his jeans and kicks them off impatiently once they're loose. Crawling up the bed, he dips his head down to steal a deep, slow kiss from Kurt before snapping open the lube.
He keeps kissing to distract himself from what his fingers are doing, focusing instead on the warm slide of Kurt's mouth against his. It helps when Kurt starts twisting and pushing back on Dave's hand, rocking into his little thrusts and moaning softly into the kiss. Dave's got three fingers in, wriggling them and stretching Kurt out, when Kurt breaks away from the kiss to demand, "Condom. Now." He presses the foil packet wildly into Dave's hand and whines when Dave pulls out his fingers.
Dave tears open the packet and rolls on the condom with an unsteady hand. He slicks himself up with some additional lube and then fits himself between Kurt. "You ready?" he asks, a little shaky.
Kurt nods and takes a deep breath.
Dave pushes in slowly, mindful of the way that air hisses through Kurt's teeth. Kurt's hands come up to clutch at Dave's shoulders and he pulls Dave down for a kiss that is mostly a sharing of breath. Dave bottoms out and holds painfully still, straining with the effort of not moving as Kurt clenches every inch of him and struggling valiantly to keep from coming. Kurt seems to understand, wraps his legs around Dave's back but doesn't urge him forward just yet, instead drawing Dave in for another, sloppier kiss.
"Come on, Dave," he mumbles against his lips. "Show me what you've got."
Dave starts thrusting, hesitantly at first, but gradually he picks up momentum and they fall into a rhythm together. Kurt keeps trying to make him go faster, digging his heels into Dave's back encouragingly, but Dave finds he likes driving Kurt crazy by sticking to his initial maddeningly slow pace. He occasionally slackens his thrusts even more just to tease and swallows Kurt's indignation from his lips every time.
Eventually though, Dave can't help it anymore and begins thrusting in earnest. Their kissing turns open-mouthed and irregular as Dave knocks breathy little whimpers out of Kurt and Kurt shifts to wrap one slim hand around himself.
"Yeah, just like that," Dave mutters and to his embarrassment words start to spill from him frantically. "So beautiful. Always knew you would be. Always hoped you'd look back. Always--" Dave loses the plot and settles instead on just babbling "Kurt" on a constant loop as his thrusts turn increasingly erratic.
Kurt looks up at him then, eyes dark with want and just the tiniest hint of something else. "Dave," he whispers.
From that and nothing else, Dave comes.
It's a few minutes before he pulls out afterwards. Dave has to come back to himself first and then when he does he's strangely reluctant to move his forehead from where it's resting lightly against Kurt's own. Eventually, though, it occurs to him that the position Kurt's holding his legs in must be pretty uncomfortable and Dave withdraws to go find some washcloths to clean up with. He pulls off the condom in the bathroom with shaking fingers and wraps it carefully in toilet paper before tossing it in the trash. Dave makes a mental note to empty his own trash this weekend and then wets a pair of washcloths to take back into the bedroom.
Kurt's still splayed out on the bed when he returns, eyes closed and head tilted back in the pillows. He cracks one eye open when he hears Dave approach and peers at him lazily. "So that's the Fury?" he asks, voice tinged heavy with amusement.
Dave smacks him with the washcloth. "Shut it, Hummel," he growls, but can’t help it when he smiles slightly too.
Kurt cleans himself up and then looks to Dave for what to do with the washcloth. Dave takes it from him and chucks it haphazardly toward his laundry basket, pumping his fist when it lands perfectly and earning an eye roll from Kurt in the process. Dave settles on the bed next to Kurt, unsure now what to do next. He's pretty sure Kurt will just give him an incredulous look if he tries to cuddle, but Dave figures a wrist is probably okay and steals one to caress lightly with his thumb.
Kurt hums softly at the contact. "I meant to tell you," he says drowsily. "You have amazing hands."
Dave hums too and presses a small kiss to the inside of Kurt’s wrist. He means to say something complimentary of his own in return, but the late afternoon sunshine saps what's left of Dave’s energy, and despite the best of his intentions Dave's eyes soon flutter shut.