Summary: Dave reads through the sex ed brochures Burt got from Planned Parenthood a year ago, and Blaine tries to explain the stuff they don't cover. Bromance, awkwardness and feels. ~2,000 words.
Notes: This is a short chapter I wrote for Fidelity but ended up cutting because I didn't feel it moved the plot forward. After getting some questions from readers about the ways in which Dave expresses his sexuality, however, I'm wondering if it might have helped to leave it in. It happens sometime after Chapter 11/"The Long and Winding Road" and sometime before Chapter 15/"Learning to Play Rachmaninoff." It won't make much sense unless you've read through Chapter 11.
Rating: PG-13/R for discussion of sexual fantasies
* * *
Scarves and Topping
Blaine and Dave get in the habit of racing through their homework so that Dave can either play the piano or they both can go upstairs to Blaine's room to sit around and do absolutely nothing useful, like play computer games or flip through magazines like they’re doing this afternoon.
Okay, Blaine is flipping through magazines from his perch on the bed. Dave is in the red chair reading those embarrassing sex ed brochures that Kurt's dad gave him, and that Kurt, in turn, handed to Dave a few days ago without looking him in the eye. "If you care about me, you will put those in your backpack immediately and direct any questions you have about them to Blaine," Kurt said before breaking a cheesecake out of the refrigerator and acting like nothing had happened at all.
Dave is halfway through a brochure on condoms when he raises his head and blurts out, "So I've always wondered what happens if you go to have sex with a guy and it turns out you don't want to do the same thing? Or, like, you want to do, um, exactly the same thing and that's … that’s kind of a problem, isn't it?"
Blaine leans back against the headboard and tosses his Us Weekly into the magazine pile next to him. He studies Dave’s face. "I'm not sure what you mean."
Dave looks down at the surprisingly unsexy line-drawing of an erect cock in his still-open brochure and scratches the back of his ear. "Never mind," he mumbles. He suddenly feels much too large for his chair.
"No," Blaine says calmly, raising himself up from his spot and crawling over the pile of magazines and sitting on the edge the mattress, knee-to-knee with Dave. "This is obviously something that's been worrying you. We should talk about it." He’s looking at Dave with those sincere Blaine eyes; there's clearly no way of escaping this.
"Fine." Dave closes the brochure but keeps it on his lap so he can fidget with its corners. "I just – How do you know who wants to do what in bed? And what if it doesn't – you know." Dave lets go of the brochure and links the fingers of both hands together to illustrate. "Mesh?"
Blaine looks blankly at Dave for a moment before a flicker of recognition darts across his eyes. "Oh," he finally says. "Are you talking about giving and receiving?"
It's Dave's turn to stare blankly.
Blaine tries again. "Anal sex? Topping and bottoming?"
Dave’s cheeks burn. He wants to hide his face, but his only real options are to cover it with his hands or the brochure, and both options are pretty childish. So he looks Blaine straight in the eye and says, "Yes."
"Oh, okay." Blaine's face relaxes into a smile. It's a gentle one, and teacherly – it reminds Dave of Brittany when she tried to teach Dave condom etiquette. "Well, I can't really talk a lot from personal experience here, because Kurt and I like to do both, but …"
Dave doesn't process the rest of Blaine's sentence. He's distracted by a quick succession of very explicit images flashing through his mind.
Dave regains control of his brain somewhere in the middle of Blaine saying, "Maybe if you really like the person, you'll find out you like some things that you didn't think you'd like before. Like, I really like it when Kurt –" Blaine blushes and shakes his head. "Um, I probably shouldn't tell you that. The point is, you can learn a lot of new things about your body when you're in love."
"Okay," Dave says, surprised and a little impressed at the ability of his mouth to form words. "But what if you're not in love?"
Blaine frowns. Dave can tell that he’s trying not to – Blaine's eyebrows begin to twitch as he attempts to force them into something other than a deep furrow. "I guess people have sex when they're not in love, and it works for some people," he says finally, his voice just the slightest bit shaky. "Is that what you want?”
Dave looks down at his lap. “I don’t – I don’t know. It’s frustrating to wait. And it’s kind of hard to imagine …” His voice trails off.
Dave feels like he’s about to choke, but he forces the words out. “It’s hard to imagine anyone ever feeling that way about me.”
“Oh, Dave.” Blaine reaches out and gently rubs Dave’s knee. “I can’t imagine guys not falling in love with you. You’re incredible.”
But you’re not in love with me, Dave wants to say. Kurt’s not in love with me. So instead he says, “Maybe.”
“You’ll find someone someone you care about, and who cares about you. I know you will." Blaine swallows hard. "And if that’s what you want for yourself, I think you should wait for it. You deserve that much, Dave, even if you don't believe that about yourself."
Blaine doesn't look away. The least Dave can do is try to be as brave as Blaine is being, to not blink or stare down at his lap or turn his head and gaze out the window, even if the sun is slanting in warmly through a cloud break for the first time today.
So Dave looks back at Blaine's eyes, and notices things he hasn't before – the way the pink triangles on the inside corners curve down slightly like bird beaks, and the irises aren't just honey and gold, but have flecks of emerald dust in them, too. Every time Blaine blinks, Dave is tempted to count the impossibly long lashes of his upper lid. He pictures Kurt trying to count them, lying in bed next to Blaine as Blaine sleeps, the covers pulled loosely around their waists, Kurt's hand resting on Blaine's bare chest, milk-and-sugar skin contrasting with Blaine's butterscotch warmth.
Dave's heart clenches in his chest. He will never deserve anything as intimate as that.
But maybe –maybe – Dave can wait until he finds someone who looks at him with a tenth of the affection that shows on Kurt's face every time he looks at Blaine.
If Dave got that, it would be more than he'd ever expected.
"Okay," Dave finally says. "I'm not sure I believe it. But I'll try to."
Blaine leans forward and squeezes Dave's knee. His smile is slight, but it's real.
Half an hour later, the conversation is close to forgotten and things are back to normal. Blaine's been studying a spread of stills from the new John Carter movie and making innuendos about John Carter teaching the four-armed Martians peaceful ways to use their extra hands, and Dave's stomach is sore from laughing. He guesses that Blaine's is, too, the way he's clutching at his stomach and forcing himself to breathe deeply through his nose.
"So which do you think you'd want to do, anyway?" Blaine says as his breath calms.
"With Tars Tarkas' hands?" Dave snorts. "I don't know. I'd be a little afraid of him getting overexcited and something bad happening with those tusks."
Blaine winces and crosses his legs, but laughs all the same. "No, I mean what you brought up earlier. About having a preference, and being … compatible."
"Oh." Even though Dave's breath catches at the question, his tongue is already limber from talking about sex with four-armed, two-torsoed aliens, so it just keeps moving without his consent. "Um, well what I think about usually – I mean besides blow jobs and rolling around and stuff – is, um, topping?" It’s kind of true, even though lately his sex dreams involve Kurt’s dick in his ass more often than not. When he’s thinking about sex in general – when he’s fantasizing about random guys – it’s always the other way around. "I mean, not always from the top, but –"
Blaine's eyes don't exactly bug out of his head. It's more like they lose focus, even though they appear to be on Dave. "That is," he says, sighing heavily, "a pretty nice position to be in."
Dave huffs and rolls one of the magazines from the pile into a tube. He strums slowly against the top of his thigh, the pain of each strike keeping him from picturing in too much detail what he's certain Blaine is picturing: Kurt, hovering above, his face weak with pleasure, his lower lip swollen from chewing it every time he cants his hips downward, his ass clenching warmly with each thrust.
Dave shuts his eyes to block the image out, but it only makes it stronger. He reopens them.
Blaine is looking at him apologetically. "Sorry," Blaine says. "Maybe that was too much information."
Dave thumps the magazine against his thigh again. "Well, it doesn't really inspire me not to try and go get laid by the nearest willing stranger."
Blaine looks down at his lap and scratches the back of his head – either embarrassed or thinking. Dave's not sure which, so he doesn't say anything.
"Well, I'm not sure if I really answered your question the first time, and I still think you should wait for the right person, because then any sex you have will be great whether or not it matches up with what you fantasized about, but –" Blaine swallows heavily and looks up. "There are scarves."
"Handkerchiefs. … Sorry, I'm a little lost."
Blaine sighs. "No, my fault. I mean, some guys wear handkerchiefs. To show what they're interested in. I mean, I haven't seen it much around here – well, anywhere, really – except on Kurt."
"Wait. Handkerchiefs? I don't get –" Dave would get further than that, but he's distracted by a memory of Kurt sitting on the kitchen barstool, a white bandana dangling from his back pocket, and the way that Blaine would blush every time he looked at it. Dave had thought Blaine was just blushing because, well, Kurt's ass. But maybe it was the handkerchief making Blaine blush. He ventures a guess. "So you wear a handkerchief when you want sex?"
"It's more complicated than that. Like, different colors mean different kinds of sex, and if you wear it on the left it means you want to be the giver – or the 'top.'" Blaine uses air quotes. "And if you put it on the right it means you want to receive. But like I said, the only person I've ever seen wearing them is Kurt. Still, if you wear a royal blue bandana on your left side, someone might know that you're interested in being the giver in anal sex. So it would help with the conversation when it's time for that."
Dave stares at the magazine pile and tries not to remember every pocket handkerchief he’s ever seen Kurt wear. He looks at Blaine. "Thanks for talking with me about this stuff. You know I've never had anyone who would. It means a lot to me."
Blaine shrugs. "I'm sure Kurt would be willing to talk with you, too, if you wanted."
Dave folds his brochure in half. "Yeah, I don't know. I think that might be a little … awkward."
"I know he can come off as a kind of a prude, but he really isn't. He's just … private. He wouldn't judge you or anything, if that's what you're worried about."
The last thing Dave needs to be thinking about right now is Kurt Hummel not being a prude. "No," Dave finally says. "I'm not worried about that. I'm just more comfortable talking with you, if that's okay."
"Yeah, sure." Blaine's smile is bigger now – less like a teacher's and more like a friend's. "It means a lot to me to talk about this stuff with you, too."
The first thing that Dave does when he gets home, after taking out the trash and putting a frozen casserole in the oven, is go up to his room and Google "gay handkerchiefs." The Wikipedia page doesn't list what white means, so he keeps looking until he finds one that explains it as "mutual masturbation."
It's really, really difficult not to picture Kurt's and Blaine's hands on each other's cocks as Dave strokes his own.