on a conversation. Kurt still had no idea what to get Davy for his birthday. Their friendship had grown out of tragedy, not mutual interests, and he didn’t know what kind of gift would be appreciated. Gifts for friends he worked with were either booze or a money collection where someone else was ultimately responsible for choosing the gift.
Being the youngest, his family had gotten into the habit of telling him what to buy for other family members, and quite frankly, they’d never stopped. At least, he hoped it was habit and not some misguided notion regarding his capability.
Although, he had started to take that guidance for granted. This might be the first time he’d buy a present for someone without prompting, and he was completely stumped. He’d never even had a girlfriend long enough to buy gifts.
They passed a storefront with a multicolored, sparkly display that had never caught his eye before today.
He stopped walking.
The window was filled with fuzzy lamps, chairs with fun fur and feathers, funky frames, and soup bowls sporting legs and toothy grins. He wasn’t sure if he was making clichéd assumptions based on that one closet and Davy’s sexuality. Could he find something Davy would like here? His fingers hovered over his pocket, wanting to call someone— Jon—to help him. But then, Jon had only recently returned to Davy’s life after a long absence.
“Hey, Kurt,” Simon called from almost a block away. “You coming?”
Kurt took one last look at the storefront and caught up to Simon. “Did you want to stop in there? I can wait.”
“No, it’s fine. I just never noticed that place before.”
Simon’s eyebrows quirked up but he started walking again rather than questioning Kurt’s lack of observation. Kurt ambled along beside. He was getting tired of thinking about it, but he’d be damned if he was going to talk about it too.
Chapter Eight
K
URT stood on Davy’s doorstep, mouth dry, palms sweating. His grip on the twelve pack of Belgian beer wasn’t exactly loosening, but it was close. Why the fuck was he so nervous? He’d had balls of steel when barging in on Davy’s grief, but Davy’s birthday party was making him as nervous as a naked virgin in a room full of drunken frat boys. Hell, he hadn’t even been this uneasy when he’d completely overstepped all polite bounds and ordered groceries for the man.
Muted music and an explosion of muffled laughter seeped through the door. He tucked the wrapped package under his arm, took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell.
Seconds later, a flushed, laughing Jon opened the door. “Kurt, hi, c’mon in.”
K
URT extricated a bottle from the box and turned, noting the large number of snacks on the counter and table. He’d been hungry earlier, but he wasn’t quite up to eating. The dress shirt had been a mistake. It may be autumn, but between the extra people in here and his stupid nerves, it was fucking hot. Beer and present on counter, he rolled up his sleeves before grabbing both and striding into the living room.
Davy’s head lifted, and he got a dimpled—fuck, those dimples— smile. Davy hadn’t been genuinely happy for a long time, but Kurt knew now that those dimples were the litmus test.
“Hi, Kurt.”
“Hi, Davy. Happy early birthday.” He proffered his gift, hoping Davy wouldn’t open it. It surely wouldn’t compare to whatever his other friends had brought.
Davy sprang up off the sofa and took the package, ripping into the paper. Kurt’s ears burned. He should have gone back to the store by work, instead of chickening out and hitting one of the big bookstores.
“You said you like to cook and all….”
“Gourmet burgers, eh?” Davy flipped through the cookbook. “Sounds good. Thank you!” Davy gave him a quick hug, too fast for Kurt to even tense up or worry about his reaction. There wasn’t any disappointment in Davy’s brown eyes or his dimpled smile, so he made himself smile back. At least that was over
Being the youngest, his family had gotten into the habit of telling him what to buy for other family members, and quite frankly, they’d never stopped. At least, he hoped it was habit and not some misguided notion regarding his capability.
Although, he had started to take that guidance for granted. This might be the first time he’d buy a present for someone without prompting, and he was completely stumped. He’d never even had a girlfriend long enough to buy gifts.
They passed a storefront with a multicolored, sparkly display that had never caught his eye before today.
He stopped walking.
The window was filled with fuzzy lamps, chairs with fun fur and feathers, funky frames, and soup bowls sporting legs and toothy grins. He wasn’t sure if he was making clichéd assumptions based on that one closet and Davy’s sexuality. Could he find something Davy would like here? His fingers hovered over his pocket, wanting to call someone— Jon—to help him. But then, Jon had only recently returned to Davy’s life after a long absence.
“Hey, Kurt,” Simon called from almost a block away. “You coming?”
Kurt took one last look at the storefront and caught up to Simon. “Did you want to stop in there? I can wait.”
“No, it’s fine. I just never noticed that place before.”
Simon’s eyebrows quirked up but he started walking again rather than questioning Kurt’s lack of observation. Kurt ambled along beside. He was getting tired of thinking about it, but he’d be damned if he was going to talk about it too.
Chapter Eight
K
URT stood on Davy’s doorstep, mouth dry, palms sweating. His grip on the twelve pack of Belgian beer wasn’t exactly loosening, but it was close. Why the fuck was he so nervous? He’d had balls of steel when barging in on Davy’s grief, but Davy’s birthday party was making him as nervous as a naked virgin in a room full of drunken frat boys. Hell, he hadn’t even been this uneasy when he’d completely overstepped all polite bounds and ordered groceries for the man.
Muted music and an explosion of muffled laughter seeped through the door. He tucked the wrapped package under his arm, took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell.
Seconds later, a flushed, laughing Jon opened the door. “Kurt, hi, c’mon in.”
K
URT extricated a bottle from the box and turned, noting the large number of snacks on the counter and table. He’d been hungry earlier, but he wasn’t quite up to eating. The dress shirt had been a mistake. It may be autumn, but between the extra people in here and his stupid nerves, it was fucking hot. Beer and present on counter, he rolled up his sleeves before grabbing both and striding into the living room.
Davy’s head lifted, and he got a dimpled—fuck, those dimples— smile. Davy hadn’t been genuinely happy for a long time, but Kurt knew now that those dimples were the litmus test.
“Hi, Kurt.”
“Hi, Davy. Happy early birthday.” He proffered his gift, hoping Davy wouldn’t open it. It surely wouldn’t compare to whatever his other friends had brought.
Davy sprang up off the sofa and took the package, ripping into the paper. Kurt’s ears burned. He should have gone back to the store by work, instead of chickening out and hitting one of the big bookstores.
“You said you like to cook and all….”
“Gourmet burgers, eh?” Davy flipped through the cookbook. “Sounds good. Thank you!” Davy gave him a quick hug, too fast for Kurt to even tense up or worry about his reaction. There wasn’t any disappointment in Davy’s brown eyes or his dimpled smile, so he made himself smile back. At least that was over
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