Title: The Same Distance, Continously
Rating: PG.
Fandom/Pairing: Glee. Kurt/Sam romance creys.
Spoilers: Sam moves.
Warnings: Slight emphasis at the end on parallels. Also the "Sam wrote Pretending" head canon again.
Summary: Kurt didn't realize, but it made sense.
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee it would be better. Feel my arrogance through your computer screen.
a/n: Remember that time when I used this headcanon already? Well I like this version a little better.
slashthedrabblechallenge: hidden talents. Also. It turned out that I actually drew my little slip of paper that said Kinn for this, but I must've pulled a Lily Aldrin all up in that shit, because I read it as Kum.
Kurt doesn’t realize that it was Sam until Finn mentions it, by mistake. The way that Finn winces, and hastily tries to divert the conversation to something different is suspicious enough to make Kurt push the issue of what he had initially taken only to be Finn misspeaking, and he remains steadfast in his determination to know what Finn meant when he said Sam’s song instead of Mine and Rachel’s song.
Somehow, though the idea of Sam having written Pretending isn’t much of a stretch, it catches Kurt off-guard. Mentally, he runs through all the lyrics - each one more painstakingly pretty, more heartbreakingly honest, than the last - and, with a new perspective, tries to understand inspiration behind the song.
Eventually, even when Kurt’s gone through the song near a hundred times - when he finds it scrawled, by his own absentminded hand, on all his note pages; when he catches himself humming it under his breath at odd intervals; when he gets to the point of quoting it (and really, that’s ridiculous) - he realizes that he may be a little obsessed.
He emails Sam that evening, and asks about it. Did you write Pretending? Straightforward, but not accusatory. Kurt tries to convey a feeling of harmless, friendly curiosity.
Sam responds with a simple no, and maybe Kurt would have believed that if it didn’t look so devastatingly blunt; black blocky text on a plain white backdrop.
He calls Sam, instead, and asks again. “Sam,” with a softer, gentler voice. “Did you write Pretending?”
A pause supplies enough of an answer, and Kurt laughs a little at nothing in particular.
“I didn’t realize…” He wants to say that He didn’t realize Sam had those types of feelings, but it sounds presumptuous, to him; like he’s implying he thinks the song is about him. “I never knew you had such a lovely way with words,” he says instead, and it comes across weak, like something that he’s only settling for.
Sam hesitates, before humbly murmuring, “Yeah, well, just got lucky, I guess.”
It’s obviously so much more than that, but Kurt plays along. He tells Sam that it was beautiful, because it was, and says that he hopes it wasn’t based on real life events, because he does, but things feel oddly tense between the pair of them, even over the phone. He feels the weight of unspoken words and cracked facades hanging heavy over them, and he’s caught between wanting to say everything, and nothing.
“You’re very talented,” he ends up commenting, and he can’t explain why he feels like the words should fit so easily between the two of them. “I would know - I’m very talented, too, of course,” Kurt adds, teasing.
Sam laughs, a real laugh, for the first time in a while, and things feel a little bit easier because of it.
When they hang up, Kurt wonders why it is that things between him and Sam always feel like they should be so much easier than they are.