Work Text:
Spoilers: Up to 2.05.
Warnings: Homophobia.
Disclaimer: RIB and FOX own everything ever.
For this prompt.
First Week:
When Sam finally got around to joining glee club for real, the composition he was expecting had been thrown off. He knew, intellectually, that Puck couldn’t be there, because they probably don’t let people out of juvie even if their show choir really needs them. Still, it was weird not to see him. And he'd thought he met all the guys in glee at his audition, but that was wrong too.
So he walked into the choir room and there was no Puck, but a different guy, the one he saw around sometimes in the crazy outfits, was standing on Finn’s shoes like a little kid practicing a dance with their dad only facing outward, saying in a has-to-be-heard-to-be-believed voice of unnatural beauty, “What part of ‘left’ do you not understand?”
“I thought maybe you meant your left.”
“We’re facing the same way,” the stranger said witheringly. “We have the same left. You do know that, right?”
“I think you’re getting too big for this,” Finn complained.
“Excuse me?”
“I meant your growth spurt, don’t be a douche.”
“Oh my god, Finn, just try the dance again. I’m pretty sure—and by pretty sure I mean painfully certain—your entire problem is the third step; if you could do it right you wouldn’t be off-tempo for the rest of the count.”
There was a lot of other stuff going on, since there were ten other people in there, but Finn was the one he knew best, so Sam headed over to him. “Hey, Finn,” he said cautiously. “Um… who’s your friend?”
Finn unwrapped his arms from the guy’s waist and set him on his own feet. “Sam! This is my brother, Kurt. Kurt, this is Sam, the ‘Billionaire’ dude.”
“Nice to meet you.” Sam stuck a hand out. It took Kurt a second to notice, because he was looking at Finn with this sort of startled adoration that was a little off-putting but also endearing and wow, talk about beautiful eyes.
Then he shook Sam’s hand (this led to the revelation that he had probably the softest, smoothest hands Sam had ever felt), and said, “Magical disappearing Sam. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, especially since it proves Finn’s not going insane. Mercedes, look, Sam exists!”
“Yeah, sorry about bailing on you guys,” Sam said. “But… I mean, you’ve seen me around, right?”
“No, I think I’d remember.” Kurt was definitely either flirting or being combative, but Sam couldn't tell which.
“I’ve seen you, I mean,” Sam offered. “But I guess you stand out more than I do.”
There was an odd moment then, Kurt’s expression freezing in place and Finn frowning, and then two girls came over, the black one and the little tiny one dating Finn, and the conversation turned elsewhere.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
That night, after football practice, Finn caught up to Sam on the way to the parking lot. “So I know Kurt’s super gay,” he said without otherwise introducing the subject, “but that’s not, like, a problem for you, right?”
“No way, man.” Sam shrugged. “I went to an all-boys school, remember? Everyone’s way more chill about people being gay there. McKinley is kind of freaking me out with the constant low-grade homophobia, not gonna lie.”
“Okay,” Finn said, “because when you said he stood out…”
“He does. Dude had like a fox tail or something coming out of his side pocket. Oh…” he paused. “You guys thought I was being an ass about his clothes or his being gay or something?”
“Well,” Finn said. “Most people here would have been.” He clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Glad you weren’t, though. We really do need you on glee.” Then he took off and climbed into the passenger side of a hulking black Navigator; the interior light flicked on, and it was Kurt picking him up. The boy winced at something Finn threw in the back seat, then Finn said something and laughs. Kurt loosened up with another one of those adorable, soppy looks. Finn’s smile went from clueless-amused to self-congratulatory and affectionate when Kurt looked away to start backing out.
The interior light went off.
Second Week:
“Hey, Quinn,” Sam said after a Spanish test he was pretty sure he bombed, “how’s your Spanish?”
“Decent,” she said with the smooth modesty of someone pulling straight As. “Don’t worry, Mr. Schue’s an easy grader, and not just on his glee kids. He passed Brittany before she joined, most of the time, and it takes some superhuman mental gymnastics to qualify ‘gato’ as the correct imperfect conjugation of ‘ir’.”
“It’s not just the grades, though,” he said. “I really want to do better, it’s just I can hardly do most of this in English.”
“Well, I can go over the homework with you, if you want. I might be able to help.”
“Really?” He grinned. “That’d be fantastic. Kinda what I was angling for, actually.”
“No way. You’re so smooth about it.” She smiled to take the sting out of her words. She either didn’t have to do that, or should do it with everything she said, he was still figuring it out; something about her voice, so sweet and languid, made everything sound half-insulting, half-caring.
“Hey, one other favor. You know where Finn lives, right? I’m supposed to go over there for video games tonight with Artie, and I lost his address. Plus I’d kind of like to apologize to his brother for something I said, I think he took it the wrong way.”
Quinn blinks, looking startled, then said, “Sure, here.” She tore a page out of her notebook and scribbled down the address. “You know,” she said, “you’re exactly Kurt’s type. Tall, athletic, endearingly awkward, musical, not the most academically-minded…” She seemed to be waiting for him to pick up on something.
“Really?” He mulled this over. “But... I’m kind of new here to go rocking the boat on the one solid friendship I have with a dude just because I want to date his kid brother.”
“Yes,” she said, grinning. “Good thinking. Well, just so you… have all the facts.”
Fourth Week:
It was possibly a little bit weird that the thing that spiraled Sam from thinking Kurt was kind of nice to look at (and very nice to hear) to thinking that he’d actually really like to date him was watching what an awesome brother he made. (It was also deeply ironic, he will decide a few weeks later.) But then he considered that he liked watching Finn be a good brother too, and that made him like Finn but not want to tap that, so it was definitely a Kurt-specific thing and not as creepy as he was afraid it might be.
For example: He was over at their house for some serious Halo-age one Saturday. They usually met at Artie’s house (first time notwithstanding), since he had the best and the most equipment for all things related to killing little pixelated dudes, but the Parents Hudson were out of town for the weekend.
“For the first time in…” Kurt looked at Finn. “Ever?”
“Ever,” Finn confirmed.
“Well isn’t that lovely and depressing,” Kurt said. He didn’t play with them, and didn’t go to Artie’s for the games, so Sam hadn’t seen him outside of glee for a while now. “I’m going to go drown my vicarious sorrows in the kitchen. Who wants dinner?”
“Aw, man, let’s order pizza,” Finn whined. “We don’t have to worry about heart-healthy tonight!”
“I will make you pizza if you want pizza. We’re not eating anything that came out of those foul places they call pizza delivery joints in this town.”
Finn grinned. “With lots of cheese? And like, ham and pineapple?”
Kurt gagged. “And I will make two pizzas. I’m guessing you want the Finn version, Sam, Artie?”
“Hell yes.” Artie waved from where he’s hooking up the controllers.
“Actually,” Sam said, “it sounds like your version’s going to be healthier? I’d rather get in on that, if it’s not a big deal.”
“Why, Sam Evans. I had no idea you were a fellow devotee of the temple of the body,” Kurt shot Finn a dirty look, “as opposed to the fast food plaza of the body.”
“These abs are not free,” Sam assured him. “I pay my dues.”
Kurt made a funny noise that tried to be politely interested, and then said quickly, “Okay, I have to run to the store, Finn; we don’t have enough disgusting processed garbage to put on your pizza. I’ll be right back.”
“You’re the best,” Finn called after him. He held out his hand to Sam for a high-five, which Sam gave him.
“What are we celebrating?”
“Food, man. This is the best year ever, except for the heart-healthy soups with weird names. Between having Kurt for a brother and Rachel for a girlfriend? I have got it made.”
“Yeah, you two make me wish I had a sibling,” Sam said. “It seems like Kurt really looks up to you. It’s got to be nice to have someone that into you. Rachel, too, actually. You inspire devotion, I guess.”
Finn did that half-smile thing flushed. “Naw, it’s not me. They’re just both crazy like that. I mean, Rachel’s an overachiever at everything, including being my girlfriend. She made calendars with these terrifying cat creatures on them. And Kurt’s, like… scary about family. He dressed in overalls and sang Mellencamp once, because—um. I maybe shouldn’t tell that story. Anyway, yeah, they kind of lack senses of proportion.” He bounced off the couch. “Gotta pee.”
“That’s really awesome,” Sam told Artie. “I mean, that they don’t take each other for granted.” That Kurt went that all-out, he thinks. That he’d be as awesome a boyfriend as Rachel was a girlfriend. Sam could definitely be down with being looked at like the sun and moon rested on his shoulders.
“Uh-huh,” said Artie, who had ear-buds in and was getting into the zone.
Sixth Week:
“No, okay, I’ve got it.” Finn sounded triumphant. “I’ll hide the body in your closet. They’re too scared to go in there in case they mess up your clothes and you pitch a hissy.”
“Finn Hudson, you are not, I repeat not, storing a corpse in my closet! Anyway, if you do that they’ll know it was me.” Kurt paused. “Did you honestly just use the phrase ‘pitch a hissy’?”
“Dude, we’re in this together,” Finn said hastily. “I wouldn’t let you take the fall.”
“That’s really sweet, Finn, but since I was the one with the ice pick, it doesn’t matter. You’re a conspirator, not a murderer.”
“Well, they wouldn’t think you’d put a corpse in your closet anyway. It’ll probably convince them it was me, actually.”
Sam stood very still in the bathroom stall and seriously considered climbing onto the toilet so that they can't see his shoes.
“Ugh, you could be right. And as long as they’re wrong, we’re still in the game. Fine, you win, body goes in my closet. We still have to decide on the first clue, because a computer printout of an arrow pointing at the body doesn’t actually count. We can plan it later, though; just being in this room may well give me an allergic reaction. I can’t believe my entire gender is this filthy.”
“Okay, later, bro.”
The door opened and closed, and Sam heard Finn head over to take a leak. He swallowed and opened the stall. “Finn,” he said, “you don’t have to do this. I know he’s your brother, but hiding a corpse is a serious crime, like you’d definitely get expelled, and Rachel would probably kill you for screwing glee over—”
“Uh,” Finn said. “Dude. What are you talking about?”
“You were just deciding on where to hide a body with Kurt,” Sam hissed.
“Oh.” Finn grinned and punches his shoulder. “Chill. It’s for Murder Mystery Dinner night. We did a drawing out of a hat to make one of us the murderer this time, and Kurt got it, and then he asked me to help, because he says ‘so where should I hide the body’ doesn’t count as telling that you got the black mark. So now it’s like kids against parents but Mom and Burt don’t know we’ve joined forces. Totally awesome.”
“Oh, wow.” Sam reintroduced oxygen to his lungs. “Good. Okay. I’m just gonna…” he left before Finn could process the fact that Sam bought, albeit in a state of panic, the idea that he and Kurt had murdered someone and were casually plotting what to do with the corpse.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
“The closet thing should definitely have tipped you off,” Mercedes said, texting Tina all the while. Sam was cool with that; he’d learned better than to expect Mercedes’s full attention at any given moment. “My man Kurt would never put a body near his clothes. All that smell and blood?”
“Tell me you don’t believe Finn’d do it, though,” Sam said. “I mean, it’s not beyond the realm of possibility.”
“I believe that boy would do anything someone asked him to, if they used enough big words on him.”
“But especially for Kurt. Or Rachel.” He tossed his football into the air and caught it. “So has Kurt ever had a boyfriend?”
“In this town?” Mercedes scoffed.
“But come on, seriously, someone must have hit on him. I just want to know how Finn took it, like if he got pissed. I mean, I know Kurt’s a guy, but he has all that honorary girl stuff going on, and he is Finn’s little brother, and I get kind of a protective vibe there, you know?”
Mercedes raised an eyebrow at him, then shook her head like she was shaking something off the ends of her hair. “Kurt’s actually older than Finn. I wouldn’t worry.” She grinned. “You should go for it.”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t want to mess up what I’ve got with Finn. He already almost hated me over the quarterback issue. Just… don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”
Eighth Week:
Sam knew, now, that Kurt was definitely at some point in love with Puck, and that was just all kinds of awkward. He already didn’t get along with Puck because Sam and Quinn were close and Puck thought it was Sam’s fault Quinn wouldn't date him; Sam didn’t even want to consider what a complete douche Puck would be if Sam stole his ex-crusher, too. Like, he got that Puck didn’t like Kurt back, but he still doubted Puck would be cool with more attention-stealing.
Though was kind of weird, speaking of attention, that Kurt was so completely over the crush that he seemed utterly indifferent to Puck—like he didn’t even notice him unless in conjunction with glee or Finn—but hey, that was high school.
But—not for Kurt, he thought to himself, because that was what he liked about Kurt —he did everything so all out. Sam was a laid-back guy himself (unless it concerned his abs), but he could appreciate that about Kurt. He was pretty sure a rejected Kurt should be a vindictive, bitchy, traumatized Kurt. Yet he didn’t even give Puck the cold shoulder. They sniped at each other, but sort of friendly-apathetic-for-Finn’s-sake; they didn’t ignore each other outright, just traveled in different circles.
But he was still pretty certain about his theory, because of Finn’s warning.
He walked into the choir room an hour early a few days ago and found Rachel and Kurt with a bunch of papers spread out on the piano. “You’re going to have to take Spanish,” Rachel was saying. “I can do algebra, but I don’t think anyone appreciates how difficult it is for me to listen to people mispronounce things. I have pitch-perfect hearing.”
“Oh my god,” Kurt mouthed at the piano, then said, “Your ability to be simultaneously helpful and irritating increases daily. I’ll take Spanish if you’ll make it up to me by taking history; you’re not the only one with sensitive ears.”
“Hey,” Sam said, dropping his backpack in the corner. “Whatcha doing?”
“Sam!” Kurt said at the same time as Rachel said “Nothing!” They scrambled to put the papers away; one of them fluttered off the piano.
“We were just making a few plans, going over some ideas for future songs. We can’t let Mr. Schue plan everything, unless you want to listen to Rachel sing ‘Don’t Cry for Me Argentina’ at Sectionals,” Kurt said. His tone suggested Sam would naturally have strong feelings about this concept, which wasn't the case, but that was Kurt for you. Invested.
Sam picked up the paper and held it out. He didn’t mean to look at it, but his eyes kind of slid down. It was a schedule. With lots of gold stars stuck on it, and a bunch of subjects penciled in red and pink. “Here,” he said.
Kurt and Rachel were bitching about who would make a better Evita (whoever that was; it sounded like a good sci-fi/horror name, but he somehow doubted their discussion had anything to do with spacecraft or vampires), but they stopped for this. Rachel grabbed the schedule with an affronted expression and stuffed it into the pile of papers.
“So neither of you is taking U. S. History,” he said, leaning on the piano. “But Finn is.”
Kurt straightened up. “If you mention this to him, I will use my foot to permanently end your sex drive. I was a kicker. I can make good.”
“Kurt,” Sam said, startled. “What gives? So you two are helping him study, big deal. But I won’t… um, tell him you’re helping him?”
Rachel softened. “Obviously Finn is aware that we’re helping him,” she said. “But he has enough issues rooted in his academic performance as it is; he doesn’t need to know that we schedule it to make sure that he has support in every subject. It’s very important to me that my boyfriend graduate on time, and good grades will improve his self-esteem, which is beneficial for a relationship and I’m working on accepting that.”
“I get that,” Sam said easily. “Sure, I’ll just shut up about it. I’d make a joke about blackmailing you, but you’re both pretty intense and I don’t want to end up in a river somewhere with a rock tied to my feet, so…. Strictly as a favor… do you think I could get in on that Spanish action? Quinn’s been helping me, but she’s super busy, and if you’re tutoring Finn anyway, I could just, like, ride on that.”
“I’m insulted that you think either Rachel or I would resort to so prosaic and easily-traced a murder method,” Kurt said. “However, you’re welcome to come over Mondays and Wednesdays at four o’clock. Bring the homework and your notes.”
“Cool! Thanks, man. I’ll be there.”
To make it up to Kurt, he made a concerted effort over the next few days to step in on any bullying that he saw; he didn’t think of it as a big deal. Just a few slushy dodges and yelling at someone for using a slur.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Wednesday he was there at three-fifty, just to be on the safe side, with his book, notes, and at least most of the homework (it’d been assigned yesterday; there was only so long he could keep track of this stuff).
Kurt answered the door, wearing a red shirt and smelling nice. He beamed up at Sam. “Do come in, Sam Evans,” he said. “Let me take your coat.”
“Sure. Do we get to study in your room?”
“Get to?” Kurt looked thrown.
“Well, yeah. It’s like a spaceship down there. Or a lab. My room just has posters of them.”
“Oh,” said Kurt, almost exactly the way Quinn had when he’d told her about seeing Avatar six times, but recovered with, “Well, come down to the lab, then, and see what’s on the slab.”
Sam kind of got his hopes up, but there was no slab. There were snacks, though, some of which looked like they might not be the end of the world to eat, and soda but also water. Finn was already set up on the couch, frowning at a conjugation chart.
Sam thought it went well. It took two hours, but they ended up doing all of the homework (even if Finn and Kurt had to lend him some of theirs to copy the directions from) and being pretty solid on the vocabulary. Kurt did snipe at them and on occasion make condescending comments that he seemed to think they wouldn’t notice, but he wasn’t genuinely impatient. Kurt also started out between them, and it made the difference in how he felt about being close to them painfully obvious. When he had to lean over close to Finn, he did it thoughtlessly, putting a hand on his brother’s leg to brace himself. When he had to lean close to Sam, he was… cautious. He did touch him, but he sort of watched himself do it. Sam wished he could have made him feel better about it, but honestly, brains turned him on when he could relax about feeling inferior, so Kurt touching him in conjunction with explaining the difference between a subject and an object made him a little nervous because a boner would definitely have been awkward.
At one point, Finn left to go to the bathroom. When he walked back in, Kurt’s hand was just barely touching Sam’s shoulder, and he was laughing at something Sam had said, and Sam thought he was maybe a little doe-eyed.
Then he thought he must have been wrong, because Kurt sort of jerked away from him, and when Finn got to the couch he grabbed Kurt around the waist and kind of tossed him. He laughed like it was a joke, but Kurt ended up sitting on Finn’s other side, legs in Finn’s lap, and Kurt gave him this weird sort of wry-grateful-pissed smile. So Sam thought maybe he made Kurt legit nervous and Finn was trying to chill him out.
And then Finn insisted on walking him to his car.
“Dude,” he said in a low voice as soon as the front door was closed behind them, “are you like… even a little gay?”
“Uh,” Sam said.
“Because you have to make your mind up fast, man. Look, I’ve seen Kurt be the way he is with you before, and… You know how I said he’s intense about family? Well, he can be pretty hardcore about crushes, too.”
“Kurt has a crush on me?”
“I’m just giving you a heads-up. He had a crush on… on another dude before, and he can be pretty persistent and he’s not good at picking up on do-not-go signals, and I don’t want him to get hurt again, because the, you know, the last dude he was crushing on could have handled it better. So you have to… handle it better.”
“You’re seriously confusing me right now.”
“Look. Kurt definitely likes you. You’re totally his type, musical athlete and all, and the way he’s started talking about you and looking at you… I’ve seen him when he likes someone, and he kind of loses his perspective. I don’t want you to feel creeped out or whatever. But also, last time… uh, the dude he was into was an asshole about it. It’s sort of private. So the thing is, I don’t want to have to like punch you out for being an asshole to my brother.” Finn fist-bumped his shoulder in post-threat solidarity. “Just, if you like him, that’s totally cool—as long as you’re ready for the fallout at school—but if you don’t, you should probably find a really nice way to say it like now.”
Then Finn went back inside. Sam thought about it, and came to two conclusions: 1) Kurt had had a crush on Puck (musical athlete, close to Finn at one point, would definitely have been an asshole about the crush), and 2) Yeah, he was definitely gay enough to be interested.
Tenth Week:
When Sam found out Finn and Kurt were not, in fact, blood brothers, he;'d been officially dating Kurt for five days, and he’d been in glee club for two and a half months. He felt it was a little overdue.
“Bet you ten bucks,” Finn said.
“No way.” Sam looked at the shirt Finn was holding, and after only a business week as Kurt’s boyfriend he saw overwhelming amounts of polyester. It was yellow and it had a dinosaur on it. “I think he gets hives or something.”
“I’m telling you, dude, ten bucks says it’s the truth.”
“…You’re on.”
Finn grinned and started shoveling slices of pizza onto plates just as Kurt came in with the tuna salad. “Alright, boys, battle positions,” he said. “Puck and Artie should be here any minute.”
“Mike just texted,” Finn said. “He’s only going to be fifteen minutes late after all; his parents are leaving early.” He handed the shirt to Kurt. “Would you put that on? I bet Sam you’d fit my clothes.”
“But people will be here! I’m not going to be seen in that monstrosity; it probably came from Target.”
“Wal-Mart.”
Kurt dropped as much of the material as he could manage, holding it with the tips of his fingers. “It’s not going to fit, anyway.”
“I mean guy-fit, not like freaky fashion-fit. Please?”
“…I hate you,” Kurt said, and yanked it over his head. “I told you,” he added seconds later, hair tousled and cheeks red. “It looks like a dress on me. An awful, poorly-tailored, offensively cheap dress.”
“And kind of slutty,” Sam said. “It’d barely cover your junk.”
“Thank you, Sam, that will be enough from the peanut gallery. I was exaggerating to make a point, that point, Finn, being that I do not raid your closet for several reasons, at least one of which should be patently obvious even to you.”
“I guess it is kinda weird when you look normal,” Finn said. Sam coughed and nodded and tried to stop thinking about Kurt in only that shirt, which would indeed barely cover his junk if he were to move too quickly, plus there was something about a tousle-headed, shirt-only wearing Kurt that said 'just out of bed' and then there was a whole host of other fantasies…
Kurt pulled the shirt off and threw it at Finn’s head. “I have to go fix my hair now,” he said with a world-weary sigh.
“Pay up.” Finn grinned.
Sam handed over two fives, shaking his head. “Blood is thicker than fashion. I’ll never again question your absolute power.”
“Bros before clothes,” Finn agreed, triumphant.
The rest of the evening went really smoothly, up to a point. The project this week was some musical with a French name but enough songs about fighting to not be totally boring, and they’d decided to get together and work on the boyish parts of it, although Kurt also spent last night at Mercedes’s house with the girls working on those parts, so Sam wasn't sure which he planned to actually perform.
It devolved into a video game fest once most of them were fed up with the people singing the songs of angry dudes or whatever, and then it got late fast. Mike left, and then Artie’s dad picked him up, and then it was one o’clock and Burt Hummel came into the living room.
“Gettin’ late,” he said pointedly, as Kurt shifted his weight to a less on-Sam's-lap position.
“Yeah,” Finn said quickly, “We’ll hit the sack. Actually, do you mind if maybe Puck and Sam spend the night?”
Mr. Hummel looks at Kurt for a minute before he said, “Sure, if you boys want.” He pointed at Sam. “You’re not staying in his room.”
“Dad.” Kurt went red.
“I mean it,” Mr. Hummel said immovably. “I’ll be checking. Goodnight, Kurt, Finn.” He went back upstairs.
“It’s cool, man." Finn took Sam's controller. "You can sleep up in my room; there’s a pull-out under my bed.”
“Guess that’s you and me, then,” Puck told Kurt.
“Fine, you can have the couch down there if you borrow clean pajamas from Finn and stay at least five feet away from my closet at all times.”
“Whatever. Unless you want Sam and I to take a room; you’d probably love another shot at shacking up all night with Finn.”
Sam didn’t get it. He knew Puck had issues, like he was sad and angry a lot, and sometimes he was just thoughtless. He’d say stuff that was really awful without meaning to hurt anyone. And sometimes stuff that sounded awful but was funny if you gave it a second. But this one doesn’t make any sense either way. Then Sam took in the choked silence and figured out it was the former, and looked at Kurt. His boyfriend was staring, not at Puck but at Finn, expression set in a kind of sickened dread.
“Dude,” Finn said wearily. “You know you have to leave now, right? I really… I want us to be friends again, but… I’ll drive you home.”
Puck made the face he did when he realized what he'd let out of his mouth. “Whatever,” he repeated, and then, probably sort of to Kurt, “Sorry.”
“I’m sure,” Kurt said tightly.
As soon as they were gone, Sam said, “Uh, what… what the hell was that?”
“I’m over it.” Kurt moved away from Sam on the couch. “I’m completely over it.”
“Over… what?”
Kurt frowns. “Finn really never told you? I thought the day he ‘walked you to your car’…”
“About your crush on Puck? I don’t get what that has to do with this.”
“My crush on Puck?”
Sam considered. “Mike, then? Or that dude who left?”
“Sam,” Kurt said carefully, “Last year… I had a crush on Finn.” Sam felt like someone punched all the air out of him. Kurt continued quickly, putting a hand into Sam’s and holding tightly. “I really am over it, I love him completely platonically now, it was always stupid, I just… I should have told you, though, I do live with him, you should have had a chance to deal with that before this…”
“Dude,” Sam said. “…Are you, like, getting help?”
Kurt raised an eyebrow. “I’m tempted to be offended on Finn’s behalf. I know he’s straight, but he’s not that hard a guy to fall in love with.”
Sam stood up, freeing his hand from Kurt’s and running it through his hair. “Do your parents know about this?”
Kurt slumped down on the couch, going red again. “Yes, actually. That was an excruciatingly embarrassing discussion.”
“And they’re, what, cool with it now that it’s over?” Sam tried not to sound hysterical.
Kurt sat up straighter, his face going tight. “I was never going to jump him.”
“Yeah, but… he’s your brother. Doesn’t anybody think you might need a little professional help with this?”
Kurt’s jaw dropped a little. “You do know our parents moved in together this summer, right?”
“What?”
“We’re not related, Sam, not even legally yet, and we didn’t grow up together. I met him freshman year. You honestly didn’t know that?”
“No. No, I really thought… Oh.” Sam winced, the world righting itself but leaving him off-kilter in its wake. “I pretty much just accused you of being really fucking messed up, huh.”
“Yes. Yes, you did.” Kurt’s eyebrows reached a dangerous altitude. “Luckily for you, I am an extremely logical person and don’t put much stock in ‘X would never do Y’ reasoning, since pretty much anyone is capable of pretty much anything really, and pretending that you just know me too well to believe I’d ever be capable of something so heinous would actually make me very condescending toward your sappy, sentimental excuse for critical thinking.” He took a shaky breath. “However, emotionally, I’m pretty freaked out right now, so don’t talk for a minute.”
Sam waited exactly a minute and then raised his hand.
“Yes, Sam?”
“If it makes you feel any better, this isn’t the worst thing I thought you might have done. I heard you and Finn talking about Murder Mystery Night once and I totally thought you’d killed someone with an ice pick and he was helping you hide the body.”
Kurt started laughing, and then Sam did too, and eventually it hurt they were both laughing so hard. And Sam got back on the couch for cuddles and Kurt didn’t object, so that was going well. Until Sam realized Kurt wasn't laughing so hard he was crying, he was just straight up crying a little and trying to hide it.
“Do you know why he said I was his brother when we met?” Kurt wiped his eyes.
Sam shrugged. “Because you are? I mean, I get it, bad water under the bridge, but you’re effectively brothers, right?”
“Yes—that was part of it, and it means so much to me that he’d say that—but that’s not the whole reason. You walked in on us dancing, and he was afraid you’d think—even if he said that we were stepbrothers or our parents were living together or whatever. He said it so you’d know he’s not gay. And I knew that, but part of me was just so glad… I’m always afraid, every time we get close, that he’s going to think I’m perving on him.” He kept wiping his cheeks dry, over and over. “He was so mad before, Sam…”
“For what it’s worth,” Sam said, “I really think he’s over it. Also for what it’s worth, I still wanted to do you even when I thought you were a murderer, and I didn’t even think about breaking up with you when I thought you had soap opera brain decay.”
Kurt snickered and went a few solid minutes without wiping his cheeks. “You really are an exceptionally wonderful boyfriend,” he said eventually. “And I’m sorry about the whole mix-up.”
“I’m actually pretty sure Quinn knew I thought you guys were blood.”
“Well, she’s kind of a bitch,” Kurt said without rancor.
The door opened and closed. Kurt kissed Sam and then stood. “Finn,” he said, voice high even for him.
“Yeah.” Finn slumped in and threw his keys on the coffee table. “I’m real sorry, dude. Puck is too, I mean, as much as Puck ever is.”
“I’m not mad at him. It’d be like beating up a puppy for peeing on the rug; he doesn’t know any better. Well, like beating up a huge, vicious Doberman for peeing on the rug. It still doesn’t know any better.”
“Yeah, but sometimes I think you seriously might beat me up for spilling stuff on the rug.” Finn reached over and messed Kurt’s hair up, and Kurt grinned like he was melting.
Sam stood, pulling Kurt under his arm. “So your parents moved in together this summer,” he said conversationally.
“Yeah,” Finn said, and then, “Oh, wow, dude. Did you seriously just figure that out?”
“No. Kurt just told me.”
Finn stood too straight and looked deliberately ignorant. “Huh. Weird.”
Sam grinned, and Kurt looped his arms around Sam’s waist. “I’m holding this over your head for, like, ever.”
Mr. Hummel, who can for a guy who’s going on six feet move pretty quietly, appeared in the doorway. “You boys okay down here?”
“Yeah,” Kurt said. “I think we’re all fine.”