"Oh, I'm sorry!" The words were instantly out of his mouth, wincing at the way the two bodies hit one another. He immediately felt bad about the sound of the bags going towards the ground. It was a huge mess. He hoped nothing was breakable. He went to apologize again when the hand steadied him. His eyes widened slightly at the sound of Kurt's voice. He swallowed hard, and just barely kept himself from flinching back from him at the grip on his arm. He wasn't going to do that. He was more mature than that.
Right?
"Kurt," he said awkwardly, and bent down, helping him pick up the items from the ground. He offered one of the bags to him, and he finally let his gaze linger on Kurt for a moment. He usually avoided him like the plague at school. Which.. wasn't completely fair, but it seemed like the best solution when you didn't know what to do. Or think. "Are you alright?" Sam hoped he hadn't hurt him. It had been a litle rough, the impact for them both. But it had been nothing worse than it was at football. Sam wasn't worried about himself. He turned his gaze away from him, letting it linger elsewhere for a moment. Anywhere but at Kurt.
Kurt had tugged his hand away reflexively as soon as he realised who he was grabbing on to. Things with Sam had been weird... distant. Even when Kurt spent his brief stint on the football team that just ended up like some sort of weird dance recital, they had hardly even spoken. Kurt knew when to take a hint to keep the distance. He had experienced it so long, he knew when someone didn't want to be in his presence.
In fact now, when all the bags were bag in his possession (and him not stopping to think what a mess the items inside might be in now), he took a small step backwards. "Oh, yeah. It's fine. I'm fine. It's not like it could be any worse than football practice, right?" He failed to mention that he was left quite bruised from bumping into extremely massive bodies from the football thing. Even a hot bubbly bath with salts hadn't helped much. "Sorry. It's fine. I'll see you around." He hugged the bags to his chest and waited for Sam to just move on away from him. By the looks of things, Sam wanted to run away anyway. No sense prolonging the awkward.
No matter what told him to just run and flee, something held him back. He couldn't just... leave things how they were. He knew it was mostly his fault. He'd been avoiding Kurt purposely harder than usual. With a school as big as McKinley, it really wasn't that hard. You just headed into the opposite hallway, and there you were. Or in his case, grab a Cheerio's hand, and everything became simple like that, when they led him off somewhere else. Usually just to class, but it worked. Because... Sam wasn't into some of the things they attempted to tempt him with. No way, no how. He was glad he'd decided to stay nameless with some of those girls. Shaking the thought from his head, he returned to watching Kurt, and he bit on his lower lip, contemplating what he should say to him. If there was anything he could say to him.
"Kurt?" he asked, uncertainly. "Can I talk to you for a second?" The words were out of his mouth before he'd even let himself decide what he was going to say. How wrong was that? "I just... need to say something to you." He hoped Kurt would let him, now that the words were out of him.
As soon as Sam said that, Kurt internally braced himself for the worst. For the threats a lot of the other footballers made, for warnings of Slushie facials and dumpster diving. He even prepared himself for a purposeful rough shove just like Karofsky and co liked to indulge in on a regular basis, and for abusive names and taunting. He wet his lips and drew in a small breath so that externally, he didn't seem to waver. When he first met Sam, he'd liked him. He hadn't seemed like all the others, and he had initally given Kurt the benefit of the doubt, until that thing at the party. Then it was just a whole lot of avoidance. Kurt was worried that the time Sam had spent with those footballers had just turned him into one of them.
He nodded. "Sure. Of course you can," he told him and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. If anything got too rough, at least he could scream like a girl... and loudly.
He glanced around. Too many people were around. They weren't too far from the food court. Maybe they could sit at a table and talk there. "Can we hit the food court?" he asked. "I forgot to eat lunch before I left and there's too many people around here." Someone jostled him hard from the side, as if to prove his point. Sam made a face after them. "There's that pretzel stand. I could buy you one and --" he stalled for a moment on what he wanted to say, "I can apologize to you about a couple things?" Because no matter what... Sam had been acting like a jerk lately. The biggest jerk ever, really. ...Well, OK, not that bad of one. But big enough that Kurt felt really bad. And he needed to explain a few things to him. "Please?"
He didn't wait for a refusal and instead, turned to the right and headed to the food court. He didn't even look over his shoulder to double check that he was being followed.
Kurt actually let out a quick and sharp sigh of relief without even realising he had been holding his breath. How had it come to this when he had actually found Sam a pretty cool guy to start off? Freaking alcohol. Kurt had earned an horrific hangover for the whole thing, too. He didn't hold his booze well at all, and even though he couldn't remember exactly what he had been downing that night, he knew it would not have been something like beer. He would rather drink from a toilet than put beer in his mouth.
To hear that Sam wanted to apologise really caught Kurt off guard though and he waved his fingers, even if his his arm was still wrapped around the bags he was holding. "No, Sam. Look, it's fine. You don't need to apologise for anything. I'm... used to that sort of thing. I get it," he assured him as he just ended up following anyway, falling into step beside Sam. When they made it to the food court, Kurt's first thought was that he couldn't remember the last time he ate a pretzel. That was more his Dad's realm. "You don't need to buy. I've got cash. Somewhere..." He trailed off, realising now that with his hands and arms occupied, he couldn't reach for his wallet.
He shot Kurt a disbelieving look. Maybe he was used to the other jocks being cruel to him, but Sam was pretty sure that Kurt was not used to the things that happened between them. Sam wasn't used to it, and he'd gone to an all boys boarding school. Things like this had just never happened there. Or maybe, Sam just wasn't aware of it. He'd never really dedicated much thought to relationships over the years. His dyslexia took up so much of his concentration. He had to keep himself at C average and above, and that was a nightmare. Who really wanted to think about silly dates and dances then?
He marched up to the pretzel stand, ordering two of them, outright ignoring Kurt's protests. He wasn't going to listen to it. Not at all. Once he had them, he turned back to Kurt, "C'mon, let's go sit down, and I AM going to apologize. Because I owe you that much." And he did. He led Kurt over to a table, plopping down on a chair. He pushed one of the three empty chairs closer to him so he could set his bags down. He quietly mulled over his thoughts, wondering how he wanted to start. Because he wasn't sure exactly what to tell him.
Without actually knowing what Sam really wanted to get at here or why they were conversing suddenly, Kurt carefully and neatly placed all his shopping bags onto the chairs. It wasn't lost on him how nice Sam was being, he just couldn't help worrying that he was being set up for a fall. Old habits die hard and after years of bullies trying to be nice to him to lure him into mortifying situations, Kurt just internally stayed on the defense for the moment.
He took the last spare chair and looked over the pretzel sitting in front of him. It smelled nice enough and it wasn't dripping in grease. A very good start. "You don't, really. Owe me anything, I mean. I just... we..." He paused and toyed with the edge of the napkin. Needing something to do with his hands was a nervous trait he had always harboured. "There was a lot of alcohol," he finally added quietly, glancing around to make sure none of Sam's team mate were going to jump out and embarrass the poor guy. Also that Quinn wasn't going to suddenly appear and throw Holy Water of Sam to save him from Kurt's sins. "And I was wearing red. Maybe you just mistook me for a Cheerio."
"Look," he started, then hesitated. It was weird to have to explain the actions. He didn't want to think about the actual kissing part. He could only vaguely remember it. It was like a fuzzy memory. If he had his choice, he'd just lock it up and forget it happened. Life would be so much easier if you could do that. Or if life had a fast forward button and you could just hit it and forget something even existed. But there wasn't. And he was going to have to deal with it. "You're my friend," he started, then stopped. "We were becoming friends. And I messed it up for us. I enjoyed talking to you. And then... that... happened. And I ignored you like you were the plague. That was wrong. I'm sorry."
He broke off a piece of his pretzel, but didn't make a move to eat it. He stared at his hands, sighing, "Can we.... try again? This friends thing? I'd like us to. If you're willing to try. If not... I understand, Kurt. I do."
Kurt caught the corner of his lip between his teeth as he listened, but when Sam reached the end of what he wanted to say, he gave a small shrug and a smile. "Sure, Sam. Of course we can. But just for the record so I know where I'm supposed to stand, is this like normal friends, or only friends when no one else on the social ladder can witness us in the same vicinity together?" he asked, trying not to let that disappointed sick niggle appear in his gut everytime someone made him feel like a subpar human being that needed to be avoided like some sort of freak. He was good at putting up an externally mask that he didn't care about how they treated him, but he was a good actor, and had lots of practice.
"Because, I'd understand the latter. It wouldn't be the first time. Finn is a good example there. I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm going to try and jump him everytime he's in the same room as me. Though, now we're in Glee together, we're supposed to be 'friends'," he said, making the quotation marks with his fingers. "And I get it. You have a reputation to uphold."
Sam had always pretty much been one of the social outcasts at his old school. No one had patience for the geek. AV Club, Science Club... pretty much every 'geek' thing you could think of. His only saving grace, pretty much, had been his skill in football. He was actually good at it. One of the best on the team. So, he was relatively ignored. He still got hassled on occaion (mainly because he could rattle off stupid facts no one cared about), but... It wasn't like what Kurt faced. He couldn't imagine having to put up with it. Or do it. He knew the guys on the team wanted him to join in. He wouldn't. And searching Kurt's face, he knew he'd never be able to be that guy. And it kind of hurt that Kurt thought he would be that kind of friend. But it wasn't like he'd given Kurt any other ideas right now.
"Normal friends," he said, slowly. "Friends in the open. I'm not ashamed of being your friend. I never was. I was. Just." Freaked out, scared... "Just something." He hoped Kurt understood what he was trying to say. He sure didn't himself. Not without giving anything away.
Kurt was looking at him with a hint of disbelief now, but he fought off the urge to look around and wait for Candid Camera to jump out and tell him this was all a joke. "Really?" he asked quietly, the vulnerability edging his tone before he could hide it. "And I just... um... that night, we don't have to talk about it again. It'll be just like it didn't happen. I probably got too in your face, or something..." He really didn't think he did, but he was willing to give Sam a loophole if he wanted to take it. He didn't want anyone getting hassled because of him, despite how much of a bitch he could be. "Me and alcohol don't really mix."
He wanted to ask Sam how he felt about it. If it felt gross or if he was terrified about what he did, but he couldn't. He realised he was scared Sam would confirm both and Kurt knew he couldn't take that. It was better he just remained in the dark about the whole thing and blame the alcohol on the reason Sam was the only boy who ever reciprocated anything with him. It had to just all be a huge mistake. "Just something," he repeated with a nod of confirmation.
"Really," Sam said, slowly. He could hear the tone in Kurt's voice. It made him feel bad. He caused that? Everything is so. He bit his lip. It was messed up. He was frustrated with himself. Two drunken kisses messed everything up. He wasn't sure if he regretted them or not, but he knew he regretted what happened after the kisses. "You didn't get too into my face." He wasn't sure why he had to talk about them. Because it would be perfect to forget about it. Pretend like it didn't happen again. Like he suggested. But he knew from experience. Between them alone. If you ignored something, it just made it worse. "I was just to blame as much as you. Maybe even more," he slowly allowed.
He shakily looked at Kurt. He was going to fix this.
He stuck his hand out, forcing a smile to Kurt. The longer he kept it on his face, the easier it eased up, and became more genuine. He could do this! "Hi. I'm Sam. You're amazingly talented and I'd like to become friends with you. You're funny and you really know your stuff." Sam held his breath, watching him. Waiting. He hoped Kurt would do it. "I don't want to forget what happened before. We need to resolve it. But we can do it as friends. That way... you know I'm not playing you." And he wasn't. Kurt was a good guy. Sam had had a lack of judgement. Everyone did. Now it was going to be put right.
A hint of a smile appeared on Kurt's lips finally and then he reached to take Sam's hand in a truce he really had told himself was never going to happen. "You're not the only one who should be making apologies here," he admitted. "I wrote you off. I stopped trying... to protect myself. I've already got a whole team of people ready to toss me into dumpster, I really didn't want another one. So, I'm sorry that I just let this all sit as it did. That's not like me. Normally I would have gotten up into your face and at least insulted your outfit on one occasion, but I was terrified you were going to tell me you were... were disgusted," he finally admitted, his voice dropping with a small hitch on the last word.
"But I'll make you a deal. If we're ever together in the vicinity of alcohol again, just stop me from putting any of it anywhere near my lips. Do whatever it takes. Well, short of tackling me to the ground. Grass stains are horrific to get out of cotton. Even worse than Slushie syrup," he insisted.
"I wasn't... disgusted," Sam said, slowly. He didn't add anything more to that, deciding to go back to addressing the rest of what Kurt had said to him. And he tried not to notice how warm Kurt's hand was in his. Their fingers just barely brushing against each other. He let their hands drop, and he dropped his hand to his lap, trying not to think about the fact he missed Kurt's hand in his. Because that? Made no sense. He wouldn't let himself dwell on that idea in the least. "You don't need to apologize for that. I. Get it. I didn't make it easy for you, avoiding you for the football team. Biggest mistake ever. I might not even join, if you want the truth," he admitted lowly. "Finn's my position, and well... They pretty much have a full team. I'm not going to keep sitting around the sidelines while everyone loses, when I know I could help them more. You," Sam smiled, "Were really good. You should stick with football. You made it more interesting."
"We should definitely avoid alcohol again," Sam agreed. A smile lingered on his lips, and his face flushed, "But those drinks... weren't all that bad. I don't remember exactly what they were, but I know I couldn't get enough of them. Maybe it's just telling us that those weird cosmo-ish drinks are the bad thing." He was sort of glad his memory of those drinks were hazy at the best.
Kurt gave a small nod and looked down at the pretzel, it actually dawning on him that Sam had bought him a pretzel. Because he wanted to. He wasn't averted to being in Kurt's presence, they were talking, and it was... nice. Kurt didn't feel intimidated around him like he did all those other guys that seemed to be twice his size and wanted to make his life hell. "Hey, you shouldn't give up. You're awesome out there, and sure, I know you aren't, like, small or anything, but I hear there's a role of Kicker going," he admitted sheepishly. "One game was plenty for me. I only did it to bond with my Dad and because I could dance. But I walked away feeling like I was hit by a bus." He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to indicate some of the bruises the whole football encounter left him with.
A bright smile appeared on his face and then he waved his fingers. "I was hungover for nearly a week. I was wishing my own death. They look fun and fabulous at the time, but I was so convinced I was going to start seeing a light at the end of the tunnel and Cher dressed like an angel at any point. Plus, I got a lecture off my Dad about being an irresponsible teenager."
Right?
"Kurt," he said awkwardly, and bent down, helping him pick up the items from the ground. He offered one of the bags to him, and he finally let his gaze linger on Kurt for a moment. He usually avoided him like the plague at school. Which.. wasn't completely fair, but it seemed like the best solution when you didn't know what to do. Or think. "Are you alright?" Sam hoped he hadn't hurt him. It had been a litle rough, the impact for them both. But it had been nothing worse than it was at football. Sam wasn't worried about himself. He turned his gaze away from him, letting it linger elsewhere for a moment. Anywhere but at Kurt.
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In fact now, when all the bags were bag in his possession (and him not stopping to think what a mess the items inside might be in now), he took a small step backwards. "Oh, yeah. It's fine. I'm fine. It's not like it could be any worse than football practice, right?" He failed to mention that he was left quite bruised from bumping into extremely massive bodies from the football thing. Even a hot bubbly bath with salts hadn't helped much. "Sorry. It's fine. I'll see you around." He hugged the bags to his chest and waited for Sam to just move on away from him. By the looks of things, Sam wanted to run away anyway. No sense prolonging the awkward.
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"Kurt?" he asked, uncertainly. "Can I talk to you for a second?" The words were out of his mouth before he'd even let himself decide what he was going to say. How wrong was that? "I just... need to say something to you." He hoped Kurt would let him, now that the words were out of him.
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He nodded. "Sure. Of course you can," he told him and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. If anything got too rough, at least he could scream like a girl... and loudly.
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He didn't wait for a refusal and instead, turned to the right and headed to the food court. He didn't even look over his shoulder to double check that he was being followed.
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To hear that Sam wanted to apologise really caught Kurt off guard though and he waved his fingers, even if his his arm was still wrapped around the bags he was holding. "No, Sam. Look, it's fine. You don't need to apologise for anything. I'm... used to that sort of thing. I get it," he assured him as he just ended up following anyway, falling into step beside Sam. When they made it to the food court, Kurt's first thought was that he couldn't remember the last time he ate a pretzel. That was more his Dad's realm. "You don't need to buy. I've got cash. Somewhere..." He trailed off, realising now that with his hands and arms occupied, he couldn't reach for his wallet.
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He marched up to the pretzel stand, ordering two of them, outright ignoring Kurt's protests. He wasn't going to listen to it. Not at all. Once he had them, he turned back to Kurt, "C'mon, let's go sit down, and I AM going to apologize. Because I owe you that much." And he did. He led Kurt over to a table, plopping down on a chair. He pushed one of the three empty chairs closer to him so he could set his bags down. He quietly mulled over his thoughts, wondering how he wanted to start. Because he wasn't sure exactly what to tell him.
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He took the last spare chair and looked over the pretzel sitting in front of him. It smelled nice enough and it wasn't dripping in grease. A very good start. "You don't, really. Owe me anything, I mean. I just... we..." He paused and toyed with the edge of the napkin. Needing something to do with his hands was a nervous trait he had always harboured. "There was a lot of alcohol," he finally added quietly, glancing around to make sure none of Sam's team mate were going to jump out and embarrass the poor guy. Also that Quinn wasn't going to suddenly appear and throw Holy Water of Sam to save him from Kurt's sins. "And I was wearing red. Maybe you just mistook me for a Cheerio."
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He broke off a piece of his pretzel, but didn't make a move to eat it. He stared at his hands, sighing, "Can we.... try again? This friends thing? I'd like us to. If you're willing to try. If not... I understand, Kurt. I do."
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"Because, I'd understand the latter. It wouldn't be the first time. Finn is a good example there. I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm going to try and jump him everytime he's in the same room as me. Though, now we're in Glee together, we're supposed to be 'friends'," he said, making the quotation marks with his fingers. "And I get it. You have a reputation to uphold."
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"Normal friends," he said, slowly. "Friends in the open. I'm not ashamed of being your friend. I never was. I was. Just." Freaked out, scared... "Just something." He hoped Kurt understood what he was trying to say. He sure didn't himself. Not without giving anything away.
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He wanted to ask Sam how he felt about it. If it felt gross or if he was terrified about what he did, but he couldn't. He realised he was scared Sam would confirm both and Kurt knew he couldn't take that. It was better he just remained in the dark about the whole thing and blame the alcohol on the reason Sam was the only boy who ever reciprocated anything with him. It had to just all be a huge mistake. "Just something," he repeated with a nod of confirmation.
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He shakily looked at Kurt. He was going to fix this.
He stuck his hand out, forcing a smile to Kurt. The longer he kept it on his face, the easier it eased up, and became more genuine. He could do this! "Hi. I'm Sam. You're amazingly talented and I'd like to become friends with you. You're funny and you really know your stuff." Sam held his breath, watching him. Waiting. He hoped Kurt would do it. "I don't want to forget what happened before. We need to resolve it. But we can do it as friends. That way... you know I'm not playing you." And he wasn't. Kurt was a good guy. Sam had had a lack of judgement. Everyone did. Now it was going to be put right.
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"But I'll make you a deal. If we're ever together in the vicinity of alcohol again, just stop me from putting any of it anywhere near my lips. Do whatever it takes. Well, short of tackling me to the ground. Grass stains are horrific to get out of cotton. Even worse than Slushie syrup," he insisted.
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"We should definitely avoid alcohol again," Sam agreed. A smile lingered on his lips, and his face flushed, "But those drinks... weren't all that bad. I don't remember exactly what they were, but I know I couldn't get enough of them. Maybe it's just telling us that those weird cosmo-ish drinks are the bad thing." He was sort of glad his memory of those drinks were hazy at the best.
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A bright smile appeared on his face and then he waved his fingers. "I was hungover for nearly a week. I was wishing my own death. They look fun and fabulous at the time, but I was so convinced I was going to start seeing a light at the end of the tunnel and Cher dressed like an angel at any point. Plus, I got a lecture off my Dad about being an irresponsible teenager."
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