Five firsts, One last - Pre-Kum, (1/1)
Written for Tangeriney on Tumblr- Originally supposed to be a drabble, but we already know I fail at Drabble lengths, amirite?
SO HAVE A KUM ONE SHOT INSTEAD. /shot
Title: Five Firsts, One Last- Also known as the Five times Sam Evans realized something about Kurt Hummel, and the last time he allowed himself to stay quiet about it.
Author: SeleneRainbow
Rating: Light R, for major cursing and a lot of homophobic comments.
Characters/Pairings: Very much Pre-Kum, Mentions of Quam, Quick, Finchel, Britanna, Karofsky, Azimio, and EVANS!Relatives.
Summary: Title says it all. This originally started as a drabble, but I got carried away. Pretty much my interpretation of Sam Evans and how his views on Kurt change. Long One-shot is long.
*I have very little to none knowledge about the military, so someone, please feel free to correct me if any mistakes were made.
I ALSO WANT TO TAKE THIS TIME TO THANK Dmswissmisshp on Tumblr for being such an amazing Beta and staying up to read through it with me and egg me on. LOVE YOU AUNTIE <3
Enjoy! <3
1. The first time Sam Evans really looked at Kurt Hummel should have probably been one of the most awkward circumstances of his life. He'd been heading into the shower and into an awesome air-drum rendition of the solo from "In the air tonight", Phil Collins singing in his head, when a soft voice- too deep for a girl, but too high for a boy - coughed gently, making him wince as he turned quickly and felt the shampoo foam drip into his eye.
Ow.
"Don't worry. I'm not gonna go all Shawshank on you."
Kurt...Hummel. Kurt Hummel was his name. Right. He turned slightly, swallowing hard and taking a minute to think of his reply in lieu of the circumstances.
"This is kinda weird- Guys usually don't...talk to each other in here." He finally replied, still not looking at Kurt. It wasn't just the awkward sensation of having been tugged into a conversation when quite, well, naked and in the shower and all...there was also something about Kurt that intimidated the blond jock. The combination of ego and confidence and pride and well- it was intimidating. Not that he'd admit it.
"Well, this can't wait." Kurt said quickly, shaking his head, offering an almost apologetic look that Sam caught from the corner of his eye, still avoiding full eye contact.
"I'm...setting you free." Kurt paused, even as Sam stopped for a split second, surprise making him look slightly towards him, halfway through reaching for the soap. "You can do your duet with someone else in Glee." He heard the pause in Kurt's voice, a twinge of something that sounded so different from the confident tone the other boy had used a few days ago when they'd agreed to the duet. Something that sounded almost like...defeat.
"Someone that the...world deems more....appropriate."
For the first time, Sam Evans turned and really looked at Kurt Hummel, his face set in a frown.
"Did I do something to offend you?" The words left his mouth almost immediately, and before he could consider whether it was wise to ask such a question he was already too distracted trying to remember the (admittedly) little interaction he'd had with Kurt so far, sifting through memories of Glee and class to see if he'd said something...hurtful maybe. An odd feeling twisted in his stomach, the same feeling he got when he denied dyeing his hair, when he avoided questions of his old school. Kurt's voice brought him back to attention, and he realized he'd been staring.
"No! No-I- I-..." A slight pause, and had he not been so preoccupied with the current information he might have smiled at the next words, even though some of the dudes could have called it...flirting. "It's not you, It's me."
Even for the little time he'd known Kurt, that smile was very un-Kurt-like- shy, nervous, even...sheepish. The low lighting of the locker room showers suddenly caught a gleam, and Sam caught a flash of green-blue, eyes drawn to Kurt's.
Lor Menari.
"You've been honorable, actually."
The statement was enough to make him look away, not even aware of the small twitch he scared away with a quick shake to the head. Sam Evans was pretty aware of what he was- Honorable wasn't really among these things.
"And- I wish you the best. But I've realized that I need to sing with someone that matches my passion and talent level."
He couldn't help but grin slightly. "...Who's that?"
And somehow, fascinated despite himself, he saw those blue-green eyes look down, then away, suddenly realizing that Kurt's eyelashes were really long and dark...kind of like Quinn's when she did her make up.
"You know...they make special shampoo...for color treated hair." There was no smile on the brunette's face, but those eyes again- and for a moment, Sam was left with nothing to say, even as Kurt turned slowly and began to make his way out.
Say something.
"I don't dye my hair!"
"Uh-huh." He could hear the footsteps receding, and before long the sound of the shower overtook any sound at all. He blinked, realizing he was still wet and not really bathed, letting that mindset guide him for a while, his mind turning slow circles over the conversation he'd just had...and those eyes.
It was later, sometime in the last half an hour or so of American History, when Finn was snoring quietly next to him that he realized that the last part of that conversation was inevitably...flirting.
The blond took a moment to consider it- but before he could come to any conclusion, class and later, football practice, tore his concentration away from the ideas. It didn't come back to him until later that night, laying in bed.
In the end, he figured, he could always deny it.
Yeah. He decided, ignoring his stomach twisting slowly. I could deny it.
"...so much for honorable." He muttered.
2. The first time Sam Evans heard Kurt Hummel sing, (In person, at least), he'd accepted the fact that a) He was kind of an asshole for worrying more about whether he'd flirted or not versus worrying about why exactly Kurt had broken the partnership, and that B)...He was just a little curious about who Kurt had picked in the end. Just a little curious.
Which was why, when the smaller boy stood to talk, keeping a confident face as he explained he was doing his duet alone, the guilt hit him like a sucker-punch to the stomach, making the organ twist up uncomfortably and leaving him unable to look at Kurt.
Fuck.
He hadn't expected to care- but shit. This was a duets competition- had everyone literally paired off for it? Mentally, he ran through the list- everyone was paired off, with only that Puck dude he'd met once missing. The guilt washed over him, even as he finally looked at Kurt.
"Watch, and learn, Santana."
Man. The jocks could say what they wanted about him, could even treat him like shit- but Sam Evans had to admit...Kurt Hummel had some serious balls. He had the balls to go up there and sing by himself- he had the balls to put up with all the name-calling and the shoving that made Sam sick to his stomach every time he saw it. Not just because he couldn't stop it, but because it reminded him exactly why he'd dyed his hair, why he'd left his school, why he needed to be popular. Watching Kurt those few times in the hallways made him head over to the weight room without a thought and work out, punching, lifting weights, training, preparing. That wouldn't be him. Not this time. He couldn't handle that again. He WOULDN'T have to, if he kept this up.
Inside the auditorium, the blond jock had seated himself away from the rest of the club, his face still solemn even as he watched a bunch of oddly dressed guys and girls (From the cheerios, according to what Kurt had said back in the choir room, which surprised him- maybe Quinn or Santana had done him the favor?) take their places on the stage. It may have been immature, but Sam was disappointed with the rest of the glee-clubbers, almost- disappointed that no one had been there for Kurt, disappointed that maybe Kurt hadn't been able to trust in any of them to say that he needed a new partner. Disappointed in himself, more than anything, for apparently having done something wrong.
"That the world deems more...appropriate."
Those words again. What the fuck did that even mean? Like he'd told Finn- He didn't have a problem singing with Kurt. And although that side of him that craved the protection of popularity warned him away from it, there was still enough of who he'd been before, the him that had HATED going back on a promise, the him that might have actually fit the description of "Honorable" left to refuse to give up on the duet just because some guys might think it wasn't cool to sing a duet with another dude.
The slow, sensual notes of the song caught his attention, returning his attention to the stage as the performance began. What was the song called again? He struggled to remember-but the thought was ripped from his mind as he saw Kurt at the top of the stairs, dressed in a....suit?
"Bout 20 years ago...Way down in New Orleans..."
Holy shit. This voice was low, silky, crooning powerfully across the stage and demanding the utter attention of everyone. It certainly had Sam's.
"A group of fellers found a new kind of music...."
He thought he'd known what Kurt Hummel could do from those mp3s. He hadn't known jack SHIT.
"And they decided, to call it....Jazz."
L-Le Jazz Hot. That's what it was called. He swallowed, hard, at the sudden dip in tone- and for a moment he was slightly thankful he'd decided to sit away.
"No other sound has what this music has....."
As Kurt began slinking his way down the stage, switching over to reveal a completely different outfit (Was that...makeup?), Sam found he couldn't tear his eyes away. This...was beyond a performance. This was Kurt, drawing them into his own world as he began to sing, rocking his hips in time, about a Jazz so hot it could apparently hold his soul together.
He licked his lips once. Twice. Three times. It wasn't enough.
As the song continued, the entire dance coming to life with one Kurt Hummel at its lead, winding and rocking and dipping in time, he couldn't help but fight the smile, not even noticing that he, too, like the rest of the Glee club, was holding his breath for that obvious moment where Kurt was taking him- taking them, and he found himself egging him on mentally, cheering for the boy, leaning forward-
"Le....Jazz....-"
That note. That NOTE.
Without realizing it, He'd stood with the rest of the club, barely hearing the soft cheers and catcalls from the rest of the members. He'd been wrong, entirely wrong- and Kurt had been right.
Kurt Hummel didn't need anyone in a duets competition. He was more than capable of matching his own passion, his own drive, his own talent. Just like in the halls of Mckinley, Kurt Hummel needed no one else.
Sam was at peace.
3. The first time Sam Evans realized that he sort of liked having Kurt Hummel around, also happened to be the exact moment that Kurt decided to leave.
Arm draped around Quinn, he'd been murmuring playfully in her ear about them two, some frozen lemonade and the hot tub when Kurt had come into the room, catching his attention for a split second before returning to Quinn with a grin.
He hadn't really talked to Kurt much since Duets, except for the few times that he'd helped him out in a particularly hard number (He probably would've fallen on his face more than once during that boys vs. girls competition they'd had two weeks before without Kurt's help), but his respect for the little dude remained nonetheless. After all, in a lot of ways, Kurt was what he'd been like in the sense that before...everything, he'd never been afraid to stand up for what he believed in.
That's what gotten him in trouble in the first place.
The point was- Kurt and him were chill. It was natural to see him in the choir room, so he paid no mind to what Mr. Schue was telling the smaller boy, although Quinn had straightened, turning her attention on Kurt- so he did the same.
"...Solo for you at Sectionals-" He caught Mr. Schue saying, privately thinking that Sectionals was pretty much won if Kurt took the solo, when the brunette interrupted:
"Can I make an announcement first?"
Sam shifted slightly, arm still behind Quinn, feeling her lean forward as Kurt began to talk, thanking them for their performance at the Hummel-Hudson wedding. He leaned back, trying to get comfortable, although something inside of him twisted uncomfortably- he had a bad feeling about where this was going-
"...which is...why it's so hard for me to leave."
Silence.
Next to him, Quinn spoke up, her hand holding his a little tighter than usual, although he barely registered it- he was still watching Kurt.
"What do you mean, leave?" She asked, and he could feel the tension as she pulled away only slightly, his hand squeezing hers gently, trying to be reassuring.
"I'm transferring. ..To Dalton Academy. ...Immediately." He could see, even from the back of the choir room, how the other boy seemed to be holding back tears.
"My parents are using the money they saved up for the honeymoon to pay for the tuition." Sam swallowed, tearing his eyes away for a moment as he looked at Quinn, squeezing gently again and relieved, slightly, when she squeezed back in response.
Somewhere on the other side he heard Tina protest, before Finn stood, the hurt and anger in his voice immediately noticeable. This was really happening.
"...Karofsky's coming back tomorrow, so that means I wont be." Kurt responded to Finn's question, shaking his head.
Suddenly- he found it was his hand gripping Quinn's, a rush of anger running through him.
Karofsky. He hated Karofsky.
Not just because of the stupid black eye (He was actually proud of it- it felt like his old self was back for the tiniest second, not biting back a retort or pretending to look away, but actually doing something)- but because guys like Karofsky had been the biggest problem. Assholes like Karofsky, who picked on smaller, weaker kids. Assholes who, when he'd been one of those kids himself, he'd never been afraid to stand up to. Assholes who had ruined his life to the point where he'd decided to become physically like them- so he'd never have to take their shit again.
And now...Kurt was leaving.
"We can protect you." Once again- the words left his mouth without a second thought, and he found himself meaning them, his hand actually leaving Quinn's for a second. He could protect him, if necessary.
Kurt met his eyes for the briefest second- bright with restrained tears- before they turned on Puck, who carried on the offer- and for that moment, despite the fact that this was the dude who'd knocked up Quinn and hadn't known how to keep her (from the sounds of it), he respected Puck, even as Finn joined in on the offer.
"The only thing that can really protect me is what they have at Dalton- a zero-tolerance, no-bullying policy." Sam leaned back, feeling Quinn searching out his hand, taking it in his own. "It's enforced."
It felt like the fiasco all over again- and inwardly, Sam Evans hated the world for a moment. Why should Kurt have to leave? Why would any kid have to leave his friends, why would they have to escape simply because they weren't like other kids? What kind of world had these "adults" they were expected to respect created, where a dude like Kurt couldn't be at school without getting harassed just 'cause he liked dudes?
Rachel's question brought a new tension over the group- but he was barely paying attention. He had to look away from Kurt, from that sick feeling of disappointment- not in Kurt, but in himself (Because he'd run away too- but he'd run into a lie, lied about everything, about himself, about what he was), in Mr. Schue (who had never taken action, never cared enough), in this damn school which was just like all the other schools. He looked away- and his eyes met Quinn's, softening immediately. He hadn't known that Quinn and Kurt had apparently been that close- but the tears forming in her eyes quietly told him otherwise. He held her hand again, willing himself to calm down.
Stay cool, dude. Stay cool for Quinn.
"Kurt." The voice was soft, pained even- and they both turned to watch Mercedes. Somehow, Sam knew- if Mercedes couldn't convince him, nothing could.
The tears, the broken "I'm sorry...I have to go." as the brunette turned would continue to haunt him for a long time- but for now, Sam turned, slowly slipping an arm around Quinn's shoulders, swallowing back the bile rising in his stomach as he realized that the assholes- Karofsky, and all the guys who'd ever tormented him, who'd ever tormented anyone different- had won again.
4. The first time Sam Evans realized he'd missed Kurt Hummel was the day Kurt Hummel made his triumphant (and honestly, long overdue) return to Mckinley High. The difference was astounding- gone was the uniform, the Kurt who'd been trying so hard to blend in at Sectionals and who'd so obviously stood out, uncomfortable, clearly being held back. He'd been far too preoccupied with Quinn and the "Time of my life" duet to notice much, but even he could recall the surprise, almost slight disappointment he'd felt when the Warblers had performed "Hey soul sister."
Kurt stumbling, out of time with the beat, a nervous smile on his features as he was relegated to...the chorus. In that moment, he'd flashed back to the happiness, the infallible sense of self that Kurt had shown them all during Le Jazz Hot. That massive "Up yours" to everyone who'd told him he couldn't do a duet with himself- because he was Kurt Hummel. And he'd had to wonder- what would that Kurt have said now?
The past was the past though. That had been, quite literally, last year- Winter vacation was over, Valentine's Day was over (and the massive headache it'd ended up being), and even Football season had ended. Quinn and him had finally broken up (On semi-good terms, if you can call her crying while he stormed out, resisting the urge to punch Finn in the face, and later what could probably be described as one of the few honest conversations they'd really had, where they'd admitted that there was nothing more than awesome make-out sessions and a popularity boost for both of them to their relationship as "Semi-good terms".) He'd somehow even ended up dating Santana, if it could really be called that.
But walking into Glee club, still a little out of breath from P.E to find the entire group (Even Lauren, which was surprising) crowding around the countertenor (Rachel had corrected him once, and he'd never forgotten- Countertenor, not soprano) was a surprise, to say the least. Something about the bright laughter escaping the boy, even through the ridiculous amounts of hugs, made Sam grin despite himself, although he only stayed on the outskirts of the circle, just smiling shyly when Kurt spotted him.
After all- it wasn't like Kurt and he had known each other even half as long as the rest of the glee kids had, nor had they had anywhere near the friendship Kurt had with Mercedes, or Quinn, or even Tina. So he ignored the slight twist in his stomach and didn't go for a hug, just listening to the excited chatter even as Mr. Schue finally came in, welcoming Kurt back warmly.
In reality...he and Kurt couldn't even really be considered "friends." After all, He'd only really talked to Kurt for a spectacular total of four times, counting the one time they'd said 'hi' when he was over at Finn's for a round of COD (Before he caught on to the odd looks Quinn and Finn had been sharing, of course.)
He'd asked about school while Finn went to go get some snacks (Cool Ranch Doritos, which he'd definitely had to take care of with a late-night jog), honestly interested when Kurt talked about the differences of Private school, having to fight a smirk of his own once or twice, despite the memories. The moment had been interrupted quickly by Finn, who'd returned with a mouthful of Doritos, and who'd attempted to invite Kurt to join them. Needless to say, Sam had to turn away to hide the chuckle at the scathing look Finn received, turning back just in time to get a look at those eyes and share a slight smile before Kurt headed down to his room.
But somehow- even without knowing him that well...he'd missed Kurt. Maybe because Kurt was, in a lot of ways, what Sam had wanted to have, had been trying to achieve- a natural air of confidence with which he carried himself; a fearless, unashamed comfort in exactly who he was. But instead of conveniently keeping parts of himself hidden, of trying to fit in, of trying to stop who he was- Kurt Hummel was only himself- and somehow, that was more than enough.
As he took his seat next to Santana, he found himself distracted by the other boy- How he seemed to have effortlessly reintegrated himself into the group, how the entire club now seemed unable to keep his eyes off him for a moment, as though afraid he'd leave again. It didn't take a genius, Sam thought, as he remembered how carefully Kurt had picked his words when talking about Dalton, to notice how happy Kurt was to be back in Mckinley.
What none of them had expected, perhaps, was how happy Mckinley (Or, at least, one little club who somehow managed to represent a lot of the school and none of it at all) was to have him back. The one who had expected it the least was Sam Evans- because it meant that Kurt hadn't given up- it meant that Kurt Hummel was back at Mckinley, being outspoken and fearless and proud of who he was no matter what assholes like Karofsky tried to do. Like he deserved to be.
And this time, Sam thought privately, watching the brunette from his seat next to Santana, completely missing her hand on Brittany's thigh- This time...He'd made sure it stayed that way.
Somehow.
5. The first time Sam Evans realized that he could trust Kurt Hummel came about entirely by accident. To be honest, Sam Evans didn't want to even talk to anyone at that moment, much less trust anyone enough to tell them why he'd been so moody all day, snapping and glaring at anyone who looked at him too long, or simply sitting in a corner with the moodiest of looks.
Finn had tried to ask, but the glare sent his way made him turn on heel, heading back to a pouting Rachel. Puck, on the other hand, had better sense to simply leave him alone, and Sam easily ignored Quinn's questioning looks from Puck's side. He could see the looks the other glee clubbers were giving each other, and he simply ignored them, far too consumed with the reason for his irritable mood.
To some it wouldn't make sense at all- but to him, the reason was simple enough.
His father was coming back.
His father was coming back. Sergeant Major Jeremy Evans of the third division, heading home from a four-year trek in Iraq, a rogue grenade nearly killing his squadron and earning him a purple heart for nearly bleeding to death getting his boys out.
A fucking American Hero. An All-American Man.
He was anything but excited.
So lost was he in his thoughts that he hadn't realized that Kurt had been standing in the weight room for at least ten minutes, tapping his foot gently. The soft "Ahem." finally brought him to attention, turning his head quickly with a glare already prepared before Sam blinked, taken aback for a second before frowning, turning away to look at the punching bag.
"Yeah?" He asked, not even recognizing how gruff his own voice sounded, clearing his throat and wiping his forehead with the armband on his wrist.
"You've been in quite the mood today." Kurt commented, watching Sam carefully. "Care to share?"
Two months ago, maybe, Sam Evans might've wondered why Kurt was even bothering to talk to him- but considering that he now had a B+ in French due to none other than Kurt and his amazing tutoring skills, they'd actually become...friends. Not best friends- Sam was aware that Kurt and him would never have the apparent mind-reading abilities Kurt and Mercedes had, but he was okay with that.
It was just...comfortable. Kurt came over for Tuesday and Thursday nights for almost a month a half, and for an hour Sam felt like his head might explode from all the odd, nasally sounds and the verb conjugations for "Aimer". Somehow though- it worked, and he'd passed his practically-guaranteed-to-end-in-failure-once-a-week-in-class-test with a C+.
They'd ordered Chinese (Both Sam and Kurt agreed that Pizza was far too greasy, though for different reasons- Kurt wouldn't allow "that dripping beacon for blackheads" to ruin his complexion; Sam didn't want all that cheese ruining his 'abulous), so they'd settled on Lo Mein and Chicken Fried Rice to commemorate the occasion at the Hummel household for a change. Finn joined them, the two jocks ganging up on Kurt when he revealed he hadn't seen Avatar ("DUDE!" Finn had said, shocked). While Sam was sent to go search for it in Finn's room- (never again, he swore, never again when he'd finally escaped that disaster area) the food had apparently arrived- and he'd blinked in surprise as Kurt tucked his wallet in, sending him a disarming smile.
"Consider this a reward."
Ever since then, movie night had become something common. They actually talked- sharing a private laugh, sometimes, over some new drama in Glee, or debating on topics like Luke's guilt in kissing his sister in Star Wars. He knew he could talk to Kurt Hummel- But Sam had never expected it to go this far.
It'd taken a touch. A soft hand on his shoulder when he'd turned away, visibly shaking- from rage, from pain, from the sudden pressure that was too much, far too much- the pressure of everything he'd been holding. Everything he'd been hiding.
And a single word: "Sam."
He cracked.
"I hate him." He could practically hear the hiss in his voice.
Kurt was taken aback, obviously- but wordlessly had sat on the bench by the punching bag, his bag resting on the floor, his legs crossed calmly, so collected, so calm, those eyes on him. Sam understood immediately- and the mask he'd been fighting so hard to keep together finally fell apart.
He told him about his father. About growing up seeing him once, twice a year- never on his birthday, sometimes on Christmas. He told how his conversations with his father had never extended beyond his grades, his sports. He told how his mother adored his father, how she regarded the photographs she cleaned so meticulously, twice a day with pride, with love- never failing to tell him he'd make them proud too someday, if he followed in Daddy's footsteps.
He told him about growing up with only girl cousins, matching their barbies with his G.I.Joes, the heroes of the day who'd save the girl and the universe too. He told him his father had regarded such a scene one day and said with disdain:
"That boy is getting girly."
He told how the next day, he was taken out of public school, dragged to a private school with only boys, his mother assuring him that now, he could interact with more boys his age. Because his mother never argued, never would, even if it meant working a double job to afford the tuition.
Because her son was getting girly.
He told Kurt about growing up in an all-boy's school. He talked about football games and Parent's night dinners with his mother, about being taught to play guitar by one of the older students during break. About the group of guys who, like him, dreamed of the stars, of galaxies far, far away, of star-ships and aliens and other worlds far beyond the walls of the school.
Before Sam Evans even realized it- he was telling Kurt Hummel exactly why he'd left his school, why he'd moved.
Damien was his name. Shorter than him, bearing a wild mop of curls and mischievous hazel eyes that twinkled. Sam had never paid mind to the fact that he'd sometimes been staring for a second too long when he and the guys changed- it was just for comparison after all. Nothing wrong with that. But Damien and those eyes made him stare far too long.
The problem was- Damien stared back. Damien stared back, but had no problem getting closer. No problem sitting next to him, in classes, at lunch, talking in a way that both captivated Sam and disturbed him, because he was too close, too interested, and he didn't want to pull away.
Nothing happened- but nothing was just enough for the Karofskys of his school to latch on to. They called Damien a fag, a Princess, a fairy; and Sam Evans, age fifteen, finally stood as he always stood, challenging them in the cafeteria- but this time, it was six against one.
He could hear Kurt's soft intake of breath, his reverie broken with a wry smile as he looked down, and kept talking.
Three broken ribs, a broken leg, a sprained wrist. He was more black and blue than white by the end of it- but the worst part had been seeing his friends staring at it happening, terrified...disgusted, unwilling to even make a sound as Sam Evans was beat to an inch within his life. Unwilling to help that apparent fag.
The six boys were given a warning and were suspended for a week. They didn't find him, or Damien there when they returned.
A year of homeschooling, dieting and exercise- and Sam Evans, Tall, Blonde and Abulous appeared in the halls of Mckinley, ready to do whatever it took to be at the top. Because at the top meant that no one could touch you. At the top meant that instead of standing up to the bullies, you could simply distract them in a different directions. A herd would follow the leader- and Sam Evans could be the leader. He just had to get there first. Or at least that's what he told himself at first.
But popularity suddenly became too comfortable. Suddenly, pretending to be different, if even for a little while didn't seem so bad. The respect was refreshing- and Sam Evans slowly began to forget his original purpose, his original intention, the bad memories starting to overshadow and egg him on. Be popular, and never deal with that again. Who cares if you don't speak up? It's easier.
It's safe.
He sighed, suddenly afraid- but when he finally looked up, he found himself staring. Kurt's eyes were a brilliant shade of green, faint traces of blue in the iris, staring at him with an expression he didn't quite understand yet somehow still managed to completely overturn his stomach. He swallowed, hard, the onrush of everything he'd revealed finally hitting him, the weight of his words falling hard on his shoulders.
He couldn't believe he said that. Even more- he couldn't believe Kurt had heard all that, and was still seated here. Now, more than ever, Sam Evans was aware that couldn't be farthest from honorable. The word, like Kurt's expression, echoed in his head.
"....It's almost time for class." Kurt finally said, his voice barely above a murmur.
Sam nodded slowly, swallowing hard.
The brunette stood, reaching for his bag, staring at Sam for a hard moment, as though considering everything he suddenly knew about the other boy. Sam licked his lips once, feeling how dry they felt.
He watched Kurt approach him, still staring- before gently putting that warm hand on his shoulder, no smile appearing, not saying a word, just letting it stay there for a moment before turning slowly, staring to make his way to the door.
"Kurt?"
The boy stopped, only turning slightly. "Yes?"
"...Thank you."
He could swear the slightest smile appeared, even as those eyes latched onto his again. "You don't have to thank me, Sam."
Sam nodded, feeling slightly sheepish, watching as Kurt turned once more, starting to leave. He turned too, feeling drained, almost tired- but certainly less tense than he had earlier.
"Sam?"
He turned almost immediately, realizing Kurt had stopped at the doorway, watching him fully once more.
He swallowed again. "Yeah?"
He could see Kurt hesitate- that slight twitch in his cheek as he obviously picked out the words in his head.
"It's not too late, you know." He finally said.
Those words echoed in his head long after Kurt had left.
6. The last time Sam Evans allowed himself to stay quiet and pretend he didn't see the bullying, was also the last time anyone bullied Kurt Hummel in front of him.
A week had passed between his breakdown in the weight room and right now- a week since he'd basically spilled his heart and soul out to one Kurt Hummel. Once calm, of course, he'd been mortified, unable to concentrate in Algebra 2 as questions swirled in his head. What if Kurt ended up re-thinking about it, and deciding Sam really was an ass? What if- even worse- What if Kurt...told someone else? That last question burned in his mind- and hating himself for still wanting to keep his past and his sexuality a secret, he'd waited by Kurt's car at the end of the day.
The brunette had raised his eyebrow at him, a slight smirk appearing, though Sam could sense that behind that smirk Kurt was watching him with the same expression he'd worn in the Weight room. "Yes, Sam?"
"I- uh. I just-" Sam began, looking at a loss for words. I just want to make sure that what I told you stays between-
"If...this is about...our earlier conversation," Kurt began carefully, making the blonde look up quickly, eyes widening. "You don't have to worry. I won't say anything."
For a split second, Sam wondered if he'd spoken aloud- but the relief coursing through him overrode any other sensation, making him swallow and offer a grateful smile.
"That's- I mean-...That's really cool of you, Dude. Thanks." He finally settled.
Kurt rolled his eyes, walking past him with that same amused expression as he pulled out the keys to the navigator. "What have I said about calling me dude?"
"To not." Sam responded, an oddly warm feeling coursing through him. This was a regular discussion between them, a comfortable, playful exchange that somehow told him that despite what he'd heard, Kurt Hummel didn't think less of him. "Sorry Dude."
Kurt laughed, starting to get inside. Sam stood back, allowing him space, hands in his Letterman jacket, unable to fight the grin on his face. He liked it when Kurt laughed, he realized. It was a soft sound- almost...pretty.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Sam." Kurt had finally said, smiling at him from the window before pulling out of the driveway. For a moment, Sam realized he hadn't said a word- his eyes had been more blue today, he realized- before waving once. He'd stayed watching, The Navigator turning onto the street before he turned finally, wondering if Kurt had seen him as he headed to his own car, the sense of relief and sheer gratitude toward the other boy filling him.
A week later, Sam Evans ended up returning the favor.
He'd been rounding the corner when he saw Kurt, Azimio and Karofsky, the latter two crowding around the other boy in the middle of the hallway. Sam felt bile rise in this throat- he looked so tiny compared to the other two- although from Kurt's expression of triumph he could tell Kurt had, once again, delivered a verbal lashing that was probably as painful as a kick to the 'nads.
His smirk of pride changed, however, when he saw Azimio raise a fist.
Where was Puck? Where was Finn? Hadn't they all agreed to walk with Kurt between classes, quite literally forming the safe perimeter they'd promised so long ago? Kurt had supposedly not been harassed once since then- but then again, Sam realized, Kurt would never mention it.
Help Him. A voice hissed in his head- but before he could listen another voice, louder, more desperate voice cooed that Kurt could handle himself. That helping him would just be hurting Kurt's pride. That he should just walk away.
Karofsky took a step toward the brunette- and something in Sam snapped as he saw the flash of genuine fear, so different from the haughty disdain of only moments ago, pass through those eyes.
"Hey, Kurt." He found himself saying, stepping between Karofsky and Azimio, his voice calm and friendly, though he hoped Kurt could see the urgency in his eyes. "Can you help me with something, real quick?" Let's go. Let's go so they can't hurt you.
"Sam-" Kurt began, before Karofsky interrupted, pushing Sam away with an obnoxious laugh, although there was something in Karofsky's eyes that caught Sam off guard for a second- it was gone before he could notice it. "We're busy, Evans, learn some damn respect." The burly hockey player smirked, turning to face Kurt, who somehow managed to look even more terrified.
"Get the fuck away from him." Sam's voice was low, reaching for Kurt, intending to pull him away before this could any uglier.
"Why the fuck do you care, Evans?" Azimio retorted, grabbing Sam's wrist before he could pull away. "This ain't none of your business!"
"Don't fucking touch me- Kurt-" He said again, pulling away from Azimio when Karofsky interrupted.
"What- trying to save your boyfriend, Evans?"
That same odd look in the larger male's eyes, the taunting tone of his voice elevating as he turned to face Sam. Before Sam could respond, Kurt had pushed through both of them, shoving both of the jocks away with a scathing glare.
"He isn't my boyfriend. You need to back off-!"
"Don't you fucking touch me, you freak!" Azimio snarled, raising a fist. For a split second, he saw Kurt wince, expecting a blow, when he pulled Kurt out of the way, hearing a howl- the punch had missed, somehow catching Karofsky instead.
"MY NOSE. MY FUCKING NOSE!" Behind him, Kurt made a soft, horrified sound.
Azimio stumbled back, gripping his fist with a loud curse, before turning on Sam.
"Evans, you fucked up now. Sticking up for this little fag shit? You're DONE. You're fucking DONE, you girly ass Homo." Azimio said, apparently realizing now that they were in the school hallway, that the noise they were making was inadvertedly attracting the attention of teachers, who were making their way towards them even as he spoke.
Time seemed to stop, even for a split second, as Sam Evans replied:
"Can't change what I've always been."
With that, he turned on heel, his hand finding Kurt's and leading him away as the nurse and the rest of the teachers reached them. The students in the hallway who'd been around to hear the whole affair were staring at him, at Kurt, whispering, pointing at their hands, murmuring and mumbling in hushed, shocked tones. Sam didn't care, couldn't care- the only thing on his mind was to get Kurt away, to get out of there before either of those stupid bullies could decide to blame the hit on them.
He didn't turn to see Kurt's eyes, wide, staring at the back of the blonde- Number 6 - too shocked to protest Sam leading him away, too shocked to even ask where they were going.
He didn't turn to see Karofsky's eyes on the pair as they walked away, to see the hatred, the guilt, the jealousy that had thrown him off so about the jock's behavior.
He simply walked, pulling the brunette into a quieter hallway and into the first classroom he found.
Finally, he let go- and had the situation been different, Sam might have laughed at finding himself in the astronomy room.
But the situation was different, very different, entirely different- because Sam Evans had just publicly outed himself in front of the entire school.
Kurt broke the silence.
"...You didn't have to do that." His voice was soft, but somehow calm, somehow grateful, somehow even...proud. Sam didn't turn around- he didn't have to. He simply nodded slowly, facing Mars, facing Venus, noting how the swirl of green and blue of the latter planet was familiar... even comforting, even through the whirlwind of his thoughts, before replying softly:
"Yeah. I did."
SO HAVE A KUM ONE SHOT INSTEAD. /shot
Title: Five Firsts, One Last- Also known as the Five times Sam Evans realized something about Kurt Hummel, and the last time he allowed himself to stay quiet about it.
Author: SeleneRainbow
Rating: Light R, for major cursing and a lot of homophobic comments.
Characters/Pairings: Very much Pre-Kum, Mentions of Quam, Quick, Finchel, Britanna, Karofsky, Azimio, and EVANS!Relatives.
Summary: Title says it all. This originally started as a drabble, but I got carried away. Pretty much my interpretation of Sam Evans and how his views on Kurt change. Long One-shot is long.
*I have very little to none knowledge about the military, so someone, please feel free to correct me if any mistakes were made.
I ALSO WANT TO TAKE THIS TIME TO THANK Dmswissmisshp on Tumblr for being such an amazing Beta and staying up to read through it with me and egg me on. LOVE YOU AUNTIE <3
Enjoy! <3
1. The first time Sam Evans really looked at Kurt Hummel should have probably been one of the most awkward circumstances of his life. He'd been heading into the shower and into an awesome air-drum rendition of the solo from "In the air tonight", Phil Collins singing in his head, when a soft voice- too deep for a girl, but too high for a boy - coughed gently, making him wince as he turned quickly and felt the shampoo foam drip into his eye.
Ow.
"Don't worry. I'm not gonna go all Shawshank on you."
Kurt...Hummel. Kurt Hummel was his name. Right. He turned slightly, swallowing hard and taking a minute to think of his reply in lieu of the circumstances.
"This is kinda weird- Guys usually don't...talk to each other in here." He finally replied, still not looking at Kurt. It wasn't just the awkward sensation of having been tugged into a conversation when quite, well, naked and in the shower and all...there was also something about Kurt that intimidated the blond jock. The combination of ego and confidence and pride and well- it was intimidating. Not that he'd admit it.
"Well, this can't wait." Kurt said quickly, shaking his head, offering an almost apologetic look that Sam caught from the corner of his eye, still avoiding full eye contact.
"I'm...setting you free." Kurt paused, even as Sam stopped for a split second, surprise making him look slightly towards him, halfway through reaching for the soap. "You can do your duet with someone else in Glee." He heard the pause in Kurt's voice, a twinge of something that sounded so different from the confident tone the other boy had used a few days ago when they'd agreed to the duet. Something that sounded almost like...defeat.
"Someone that the...world deems more....appropriate."
For the first time, Sam Evans turned and really looked at Kurt Hummel, his face set in a frown.
"Did I do something to offend you?" The words left his mouth almost immediately, and before he could consider whether it was wise to ask such a question he was already too distracted trying to remember the (admittedly) little interaction he'd had with Kurt so far, sifting through memories of Glee and class to see if he'd said something...hurtful maybe. An odd feeling twisted in his stomach, the same feeling he got when he denied dyeing his hair, when he avoided questions of his old school. Kurt's voice brought him back to attention, and he realized he'd been staring.
"No! No-I- I-..." A slight pause, and had he not been so preoccupied with the current information he might have smiled at the next words, even though some of the dudes could have called it...flirting. "It's not you, It's me."
Even for the little time he'd known Kurt, that smile was very un-Kurt-like- shy, nervous, even...sheepish. The low lighting of the locker room showers suddenly caught a gleam, and Sam caught a flash of green-blue, eyes drawn to Kurt's.
Lor Menari.
"You've been honorable, actually."
The statement was enough to make him look away, not even aware of the small twitch he scared away with a quick shake to the head. Sam Evans was pretty aware of what he was- Honorable wasn't really among these things.
"And- I wish you the best. But I've realized that I need to sing with someone that matches my passion and talent level."
He couldn't help but grin slightly. "...Who's that?"
And somehow, fascinated despite himself, he saw those blue-green eyes look down, then away, suddenly realizing that Kurt's eyelashes were really long and dark...kind of like Quinn's when she did her make up.
"You know...they make special shampoo...for color treated hair." There was no smile on the brunette's face, but those eyes again- and for a moment, Sam was left with nothing to say, even as Kurt turned slowly and began to make his way out.
Say something.
"I don't dye my hair!"
"Uh-huh." He could hear the footsteps receding, and before long the sound of the shower overtook any sound at all. He blinked, realizing he was still wet and not really bathed, letting that mindset guide him for a while, his mind turning slow circles over the conversation he'd just had...and those eyes.
It was later, sometime in the last half an hour or so of American History, when Finn was snoring quietly next to him that he realized that the last part of that conversation was inevitably...flirting.
The blond took a moment to consider it- but before he could come to any conclusion, class and later, football practice, tore his concentration away from the ideas. It didn't come back to him until later that night, laying in bed.
In the end, he figured, he could always deny it.
Yeah. He decided, ignoring his stomach twisting slowly. I could deny it.
"...so much for honorable." He muttered.
2. The first time Sam Evans heard Kurt Hummel sing, (In person, at least), he'd accepted the fact that a) He was kind of an asshole for worrying more about whether he'd flirted or not versus worrying about why exactly Kurt had broken the partnership, and that B)...He was just a little curious about who Kurt had picked in the end. Just a little curious.
Which was why, when the smaller boy stood to talk, keeping a confident face as he explained he was doing his duet alone, the guilt hit him like a sucker-punch to the stomach, making the organ twist up uncomfortably and leaving him unable to look at Kurt.
Fuck.
He hadn't expected to care- but shit. This was a duets competition- had everyone literally paired off for it? Mentally, he ran through the list- everyone was paired off, with only that Puck dude he'd met once missing. The guilt washed over him, even as he finally looked at Kurt.
"Watch, and learn, Santana."
Man. The jocks could say what they wanted about him, could even treat him like shit- but Sam Evans had to admit...Kurt Hummel had some serious balls. He had the balls to go up there and sing by himself- he had the balls to put up with all the name-calling and the shoving that made Sam sick to his stomach every time he saw it. Not just because he couldn't stop it, but because it reminded him exactly why he'd dyed his hair, why he'd left his school, why he needed to be popular. Watching Kurt those few times in the hallways made him head over to the weight room without a thought and work out, punching, lifting weights, training, preparing. That wouldn't be him. Not this time. He couldn't handle that again. He WOULDN'T have to, if he kept this up.
Inside the auditorium, the blond jock had seated himself away from the rest of the club, his face still solemn even as he watched a bunch of oddly dressed guys and girls (From the cheerios, according to what Kurt had said back in the choir room, which surprised him- maybe Quinn or Santana had done him the favor?) take their places on the stage. It may have been immature, but Sam was disappointed with the rest of the glee-clubbers, almost- disappointed that no one had been there for Kurt, disappointed that maybe Kurt hadn't been able to trust in any of them to say that he needed a new partner. Disappointed in himself, more than anything, for apparently having done something wrong.
"That the world deems more...appropriate."
Those words again. What the fuck did that even mean? Like he'd told Finn- He didn't have a problem singing with Kurt. And although that side of him that craved the protection of popularity warned him away from it, there was still enough of who he'd been before, the him that had HATED going back on a promise, the him that might have actually fit the description of "Honorable" left to refuse to give up on the duet just because some guys might think it wasn't cool to sing a duet with another dude.
The slow, sensual notes of the song caught his attention, returning his attention to the stage as the performance began. What was the song called again? He struggled to remember-but the thought was ripped from his mind as he saw Kurt at the top of the stairs, dressed in a....suit?
"Bout 20 years ago...Way down in New Orleans..."
Holy shit. This voice was low, silky, crooning powerfully across the stage and demanding the utter attention of everyone. It certainly had Sam's.
"A group of fellers found a new kind of music...."
He thought he'd known what Kurt Hummel could do from those mp3s. He hadn't known jack SHIT.
"And they decided, to call it....Jazz."
L-Le Jazz Hot. That's what it was called. He swallowed, hard, at the sudden dip in tone- and for a moment he was slightly thankful he'd decided to sit away.
"No other sound has what this music has....."
As Kurt began slinking his way down the stage, switching over to reveal a completely different outfit (Was that...makeup?), Sam found he couldn't tear his eyes away. This...was beyond a performance. This was Kurt, drawing them into his own world as he began to sing, rocking his hips in time, about a Jazz so hot it could apparently hold his soul together.
He licked his lips once. Twice. Three times. It wasn't enough.
As the song continued, the entire dance coming to life with one Kurt Hummel at its lead, winding and rocking and dipping in time, he couldn't help but fight the smile, not even noticing that he, too, like the rest of the Glee club, was holding his breath for that obvious moment where Kurt was taking him- taking them, and he found himself egging him on mentally, cheering for the boy, leaning forward-
"Le....Jazz....-"
That note. That NOTE.
Without realizing it, He'd stood with the rest of the club, barely hearing the soft cheers and catcalls from the rest of the members. He'd been wrong, entirely wrong- and Kurt had been right.
Kurt Hummel didn't need anyone in a duets competition. He was more than capable of matching his own passion, his own drive, his own talent. Just like in the halls of Mckinley, Kurt Hummel needed no one else.
Sam was at peace.
3. The first time Sam Evans realized that he sort of liked having Kurt Hummel around, also happened to be the exact moment that Kurt decided to leave.
Arm draped around Quinn, he'd been murmuring playfully in her ear about them two, some frozen lemonade and the hot tub when Kurt had come into the room, catching his attention for a split second before returning to Quinn with a grin.
He hadn't really talked to Kurt much since Duets, except for the few times that he'd helped him out in a particularly hard number (He probably would've fallen on his face more than once during that boys vs. girls competition they'd had two weeks before without Kurt's help), but his respect for the little dude remained nonetheless. After all, in a lot of ways, Kurt was what he'd been like in the sense that before...everything, he'd never been afraid to stand up for what he believed in.
That's what gotten him in trouble in the first place.
The point was- Kurt and him were chill. It was natural to see him in the choir room, so he paid no mind to what Mr. Schue was telling the smaller boy, although Quinn had straightened, turning her attention on Kurt- so he did the same.
"...Solo for you at Sectionals-" He caught Mr. Schue saying, privately thinking that Sectionals was pretty much won if Kurt took the solo, when the brunette interrupted:
"Can I make an announcement first?"
Sam shifted slightly, arm still behind Quinn, feeling her lean forward as Kurt began to talk, thanking them for their performance at the Hummel-Hudson wedding. He leaned back, trying to get comfortable, although something inside of him twisted uncomfortably- he had a bad feeling about where this was going-
"...which is...why it's so hard for me to leave."
Silence.
Next to him, Quinn spoke up, her hand holding his a little tighter than usual, although he barely registered it- he was still watching Kurt.
"What do you mean, leave?" She asked, and he could feel the tension as she pulled away only slightly, his hand squeezing hers gently, trying to be reassuring.
"I'm transferring. ..To Dalton Academy. ...Immediately." He could see, even from the back of the choir room, how the other boy seemed to be holding back tears.
"My parents are using the money they saved up for the honeymoon to pay for the tuition." Sam swallowed, tearing his eyes away for a moment as he looked at Quinn, squeezing gently again and relieved, slightly, when she squeezed back in response.
Somewhere on the other side he heard Tina protest, before Finn stood, the hurt and anger in his voice immediately noticeable. This was really happening.
"...Karofsky's coming back tomorrow, so that means I wont be." Kurt responded to Finn's question, shaking his head.
Suddenly- he found it was his hand gripping Quinn's, a rush of anger running through him.
Karofsky. He hated Karofsky.
Not just because of the stupid black eye (He was actually proud of it- it felt like his old self was back for the tiniest second, not biting back a retort or pretending to look away, but actually doing something)- but because guys like Karofsky had been the biggest problem. Assholes like Karofsky, who picked on smaller, weaker kids. Assholes who, when he'd been one of those kids himself, he'd never been afraid to stand up to. Assholes who had ruined his life to the point where he'd decided to become physically like them- so he'd never have to take their shit again.
And now...Kurt was leaving.
"We can protect you." Once again- the words left his mouth without a second thought, and he found himself meaning them, his hand actually leaving Quinn's for a second. He could protect him, if necessary.
Kurt met his eyes for the briefest second- bright with restrained tears- before they turned on Puck, who carried on the offer- and for that moment, despite the fact that this was the dude who'd knocked up Quinn and hadn't known how to keep her (from the sounds of it), he respected Puck, even as Finn joined in on the offer.
"The only thing that can really protect me is what they have at Dalton- a zero-tolerance, no-bullying policy." Sam leaned back, feeling Quinn searching out his hand, taking it in his own. "It's enforced."
It felt like the fiasco all over again- and inwardly, Sam Evans hated the world for a moment. Why should Kurt have to leave? Why would any kid have to leave his friends, why would they have to escape simply because they weren't like other kids? What kind of world had these "adults" they were expected to respect created, where a dude like Kurt couldn't be at school without getting harassed just 'cause he liked dudes?
Rachel's question brought a new tension over the group- but he was barely paying attention. He had to look away from Kurt, from that sick feeling of disappointment- not in Kurt, but in himself (Because he'd run away too- but he'd run into a lie, lied about everything, about himself, about what he was), in Mr. Schue (who had never taken action, never cared enough), in this damn school which was just like all the other schools. He looked away- and his eyes met Quinn's, softening immediately. He hadn't known that Quinn and Kurt had apparently been that close- but the tears forming in her eyes quietly told him otherwise. He held her hand again, willing himself to calm down.
Stay cool, dude. Stay cool for Quinn.
"Kurt." The voice was soft, pained even- and they both turned to watch Mercedes. Somehow, Sam knew- if Mercedes couldn't convince him, nothing could.
The tears, the broken "I'm sorry...I have to go." as the brunette turned would continue to haunt him for a long time- but for now, Sam turned, slowly slipping an arm around Quinn's shoulders, swallowing back the bile rising in his stomach as he realized that the assholes- Karofsky, and all the guys who'd ever tormented him, who'd ever tormented anyone different- had won again.
4. The first time Sam Evans realized he'd missed Kurt Hummel was the day Kurt Hummel made his triumphant (and honestly, long overdue) return to Mckinley High. The difference was astounding- gone was the uniform, the Kurt who'd been trying so hard to blend in at Sectionals and who'd so obviously stood out, uncomfortable, clearly being held back. He'd been far too preoccupied with Quinn and the "Time of my life" duet to notice much, but even he could recall the surprise, almost slight disappointment he'd felt when the Warblers had performed "Hey soul sister."
Kurt stumbling, out of time with the beat, a nervous smile on his features as he was relegated to...the chorus. In that moment, he'd flashed back to the happiness, the infallible sense of self that Kurt had shown them all during Le Jazz Hot. That massive "Up yours" to everyone who'd told him he couldn't do a duet with himself- because he was Kurt Hummel. And he'd had to wonder- what would that Kurt have said now?
The past was the past though. That had been, quite literally, last year- Winter vacation was over, Valentine's Day was over (and the massive headache it'd ended up being), and even Football season had ended. Quinn and him had finally broken up (On semi-good terms, if you can call her crying while he stormed out, resisting the urge to punch Finn in the face, and later what could probably be described as one of the few honest conversations they'd really had, where they'd admitted that there was nothing more than awesome make-out sessions and a popularity boost for both of them to their relationship as "Semi-good terms".) He'd somehow even ended up dating Santana, if it could really be called that.
But walking into Glee club, still a little out of breath from P.E to find the entire group (Even Lauren, which was surprising) crowding around the countertenor (Rachel had corrected him once, and he'd never forgotten- Countertenor, not soprano) was a surprise, to say the least. Something about the bright laughter escaping the boy, even through the ridiculous amounts of hugs, made Sam grin despite himself, although he only stayed on the outskirts of the circle, just smiling shyly when Kurt spotted him.
After all- it wasn't like Kurt and he had known each other even half as long as the rest of the glee kids had, nor had they had anywhere near the friendship Kurt had with Mercedes, or Quinn, or even Tina. So he ignored the slight twist in his stomach and didn't go for a hug, just listening to the excited chatter even as Mr. Schue finally came in, welcoming Kurt back warmly.
In reality...he and Kurt couldn't even really be considered "friends." After all, He'd only really talked to Kurt for a spectacular total of four times, counting the one time they'd said 'hi' when he was over at Finn's for a round of COD (Before he caught on to the odd looks Quinn and Finn had been sharing, of course.)
He'd asked about school while Finn went to go get some snacks (Cool Ranch Doritos, which he'd definitely had to take care of with a late-night jog), honestly interested when Kurt talked about the differences of Private school, having to fight a smirk of his own once or twice, despite the memories. The moment had been interrupted quickly by Finn, who'd returned with a mouthful of Doritos, and who'd attempted to invite Kurt to join them. Needless to say, Sam had to turn away to hide the chuckle at the scathing look Finn received, turning back just in time to get a look at those eyes and share a slight smile before Kurt headed down to his room.
But somehow- even without knowing him that well...he'd missed Kurt. Maybe because Kurt was, in a lot of ways, what Sam had wanted to have, had been trying to achieve- a natural air of confidence with which he carried himself; a fearless, unashamed comfort in exactly who he was. But instead of conveniently keeping parts of himself hidden, of trying to fit in, of trying to stop who he was- Kurt Hummel was only himself- and somehow, that was more than enough.
As he took his seat next to Santana, he found himself distracted by the other boy- How he seemed to have effortlessly reintegrated himself into the group, how the entire club now seemed unable to keep his eyes off him for a moment, as though afraid he'd leave again. It didn't take a genius, Sam thought, as he remembered how carefully Kurt had picked his words when talking about Dalton, to notice how happy Kurt was to be back in Mckinley.
What none of them had expected, perhaps, was how happy Mckinley (Or, at least, one little club who somehow managed to represent a lot of the school and none of it at all) was to have him back. The one who had expected it the least was Sam Evans- because it meant that Kurt hadn't given up- it meant that Kurt Hummel was back at Mckinley, being outspoken and fearless and proud of who he was no matter what assholes like Karofsky tried to do. Like he deserved to be.
And this time, Sam thought privately, watching the brunette from his seat next to Santana, completely missing her hand on Brittany's thigh- This time...He'd made sure it stayed that way.
Somehow.
5. The first time Sam Evans realized that he could trust Kurt Hummel came about entirely by accident. To be honest, Sam Evans didn't want to even talk to anyone at that moment, much less trust anyone enough to tell them why he'd been so moody all day, snapping and glaring at anyone who looked at him too long, or simply sitting in a corner with the moodiest of looks.
Finn had tried to ask, but the glare sent his way made him turn on heel, heading back to a pouting Rachel. Puck, on the other hand, had better sense to simply leave him alone, and Sam easily ignored Quinn's questioning looks from Puck's side. He could see the looks the other glee clubbers were giving each other, and he simply ignored them, far too consumed with the reason for his irritable mood.
To some it wouldn't make sense at all- but to him, the reason was simple enough.
His father was coming back.
His father was coming back. Sergeant Major Jeremy Evans of the third division, heading home from a four-year trek in Iraq, a rogue grenade nearly killing his squadron and earning him a purple heart for nearly bleeding to death getting his boys out.
A fucking American Hero. An All-American Man.
He was anything but excited.
So lost was he in his thoughts that he hadn't realized that Kurt had been standing in the weight room for at least ten minutes, tapping his foot gently. The soft "Ahem." finally brought him to attention, turning his head quickly with a glare already prepared before Sam blinked, taken aback for a second before frowning, turning away to look at the punching bag.
"Yeah?" He asked, not even recognizing how gruff his own voice sounded, clearing his throat and wiping his forehead with the armband on his wrist.
"You've been in quite the mood today." Kurt commented, watching Sam carefully. "Care to share?"
Two months ago, maybe, Sam Evans might've wondered why Kurt was even bothering to talk to him- but considering that he now had a B+ in French due to none other than Kurt and his amazing tutoring skills, they'd actually become...friends. Not best friends- Sam was aware that Kurt and him would never have the apparent mind-reading abilities Kurt and Mercedes had, but he was okay with that.
It was just...comfortable. Kurt came over for Tuesday and Thursday nights for almost a month a half, and for an hour Sam felt like his head might explode from all the odd, nasally sounds and the verb conjugations for "Aimer". Somehow though- it worked, and he'd passed his practically-guaranteed-to-end-in-failure-once-a-week-in-class-test with a C+.
They'd ordered Chinese (Both Sam and Kurt agreed that Pizza was far too greasy, though for different reasons- Kurt wouldn't allow "that dripping beacon for blackheads" to ruin his complexion; Sam didn't want all that cheese ruining his 'abulous), so they'd settled on Lo Mein and Chicken Fried Rice to commemorate the occasion at the Hummel household for a change. Finn joined them, the two jocks ganging up on Kurt when he revealed he hadn't seen Avatar ("DUDE!" Finn had said, shocked). While Sam was sent to go search for it in Finn's room- (never again, he swore, never again when he'd finally escaped that disaster area) the food had apparently arrived- and he'd blinked in surprise as Kurt tucked his wallet in, sending him a disarming smile.
"Consider this a reward."
Ever since then, movie night had become something common. They actually talked- sharing a private laugh, sometimes, over some new drama in Glee, or debating on topics like Luke's guilt in kissing his sister in Star Wars. He knew he could talk to Kurt Hummel- But Sam had never expected it to go this far.
It'd taken a touch. A soft hand on his shoulder when he'd turned away, visibly shaking- from rage, from pain, from the sudden pressure that was too much, far too much- the pressure of everything he'd been holding. Everything he'd been hiding.
And a single word: "Sam."
He cracked.
"I hate him." He could practically hear the hiss in his voice.
Kurt was taken aback, obviously- but wordlessly had sat on the bench by the punching bag, his bag resting on the floor, his legs crossed calmly, so collected, so calm, those eyes on him. Sam understood immediately- and the mask he'd been fighting so hard to keep together finally fell apart.
He told him about his father. About growing up seeing him once, twice a year- never on his birthday, sometimes on Christmas. He told how his conversations with his father had never extended beyond his grades, his sports. He told how his mother adored his father, how she regarded the photographs she cleaned so meticulously, twice a day with pride, with love- never failing to tell him he'd make them proud too someday, if he followed in Daddy's footsteps.
He told him about growing up with only girl cousins, matching their barbies with his G.I.Joes, the heroes of the day who'd save the girl and the universe too. He told him his father had regarded such a scene one day and said with disdain:
"That boy is getting girly."
He told how the next day, he was taken out of public school, dragged to a private school with only boys, his mother assuring him that now, he could interact with more boys his age. Because his mother never argued, never would, even if it meant working a double job to afford the tuition.
Because her son was getting girly.
He told Kurt about growing up in an all-boy's school. He talked about football games and Parent's night dinners with his mother, about being taught to play guitar by one of the older students during break. About the group of guys who, like him, dreamed of the stars, of galaxies far, far away, of star-ships and aliens and other worlds far beyond the walls of the school.
Before Sam Evans even realized it- he was telling Kurt Hummel exactly why he'd left his school, why he'd moved.
Damien was his name. Shorter than him, bearing a wild mop of curls and mischievous hazel eyes that twinkled. Sam had never paid mind to the fact that he'd sometimes been staring for a second too long when he and the guys changed- it was just for comparison after all. Nothing wrong with that. But Damien and those eyes made him stare far too long.
The problem was- Damien stared back. Damien stared back, but had no problem getting closer. No problem sitting next to him, in classes, at lunch, talking in a way that both captivated Sam and disturbed him, because he was too close, too interested, and he didn't want to pull away.
Nothing happened- but nothing was just enough for the Karofskys of his school to latch on to. They called Damien a fag, a Princess, a fairy; and Sam Evans, age fifteen, finally stood as he always stood, challenging them in the cafeteria- but this time, it was six against one.
He could hear Kurt's soft intake of breath, his reverie broken with a wry smile as he looked down, and kept talking.
Three broken ribs, a broken leg, a sprained wrist. He was more black and blue than white by the end of it- but the worst part had been seeing his friends staring at it happening, terrified...disgusted, unwilling to even make a sound as Sam Evans was beat to an inch within his life. Unwilling to help that apparent fag.
The six boys were given a warning and were suspended for a week. They didn't find him, or Damien there when they returned.
A year of homeschooling, dieting and exercise- and Sam Evans, Tall, Blonde and Abulous appeared in the halls of Mckinley, ready to do whatever it took to be at the top. Because at the top meant that no one could touch you. At the top meant that instead of standing up to the bullies, you could simply distract them in a different directions. A herd would follow the leader- and Sam Evans could be the leader. He just had to get there first. Or at least that's what he told himself at first.
But popularity suddenly became too comfortable. Suddenly, pretending to be different, if even for a little while didn't seem so bad. The respect was refreshing- and Sam Evans slowly began to forget his original purpose, his original intention, the bad memories starting to overshadow and egg him on. Be popular, and never deal with that again. Who cares if you don't speak up? It's easier.
It's safe.
He sighed, suddenly afraid- but when he finally looked up, he found himself staring. Kurt's eyes were a brilliant shade of green, faint traces of blue in the iris, staring at him with an expression he didn't quite understand yet somehow still managed to completely overturn his stomach. He swallowed, hard, the onrush of everything he'd revealed finally hitting him, the weight of his words falling hard on his shoulders.
He couldn't believe he said that. Even more- he couldn't believe Kurt had heard all that, and was still seated here. Now, more than ever, Sam Evans was aware that couldn't be farthest from honorable. The word, like Kurt's expression, echoed in his head.
"....It's almost time for class." Kurt finally said, his voice barely above a murmur.
Sam nodded slowly, swallowing hard.
The brunette stood, reaching for his bag, staring at Sam for a hard moment, as though considering everything he suddenly knew about the other boy. Sam licked his lips once, feeling how dry they felt.
He watched Kurt approach him, still staring- before gently putting that warm hand on his shoulder, no smile appearing, not saying a word, just letting it stay there for a moment before turning slowly, staring to make his way to the door.
"Kurt?"
The boy stopped, only turning slightly. "Yes?"
"...Thank you."
He could swear the slightest smile appeared, even as those eyes latched onto his again. "You don't have to thank me, Sam."
Sam nodded, feeling slightly sheepish, watching as Kurt turned once more, starting to leave. He turned too, feeling drained, almost tired- but certainly less tense than he had earlier.
"Sam?"
He turned almost immediately, realizing Kurt had stopped at the doorway, watching him fully once more.
He swallowed again. "Yeah?"
He could see Kurt hesitate- that slight twitch in his cheek as he obviously picked out the words in his head.
"It's not too late, you know." He finally said.
Those words echoed in his head long after Kurt had left.
6. The last time Sam Evans allowed himself to stay quiet and pretend he didn't see the bullying, was also the last time anyone bullied Kurt Hummel in front of him.
A week had passed between his breakdown in the weight room and right now- a week since he'd basically spilled his heart and soul out to one Kurt Hummel. Once calm, of course, he'd been mortified, unable to concentrate in Algebra 2 as questions swirled in his head. What if Kurt ended up re-thinking about it, and deciding Sam really was an ass? What if- even worse- What if Kurt...told someone else? That last question burned in his mind- and hating himself for still wanting to keep his past and his sexuality a secret, he'd waited by Kurt's car at the end of the day.
The brunette had raised his eyebrow at him, a slight smirk appearing, though Sam could sense that behind that smirk Kurt was watching him with the same expression he'd worn in the Weight room. "Yes, Sam?"
"I- uh. I just-" Sam began, looking at a loss for words. I just want to make sure that what I told you stays between-
"If...this is about...our earlier conversation," Kurt began carefully, making the blonde look up quickly, eyes widening. "You don't have to worry. I won't say anything."
For a split second, Sam wondered if he'd spoken aloud- but the relief coursing through him overrode any other sensation, making him swallow and offer a grateful smile.
"That's- I mean-...That's really cool of you, Dude. Thanks." He finally settled.
Kurt rolled his eyes, walking past him with that same amused expression as he pulled out the keys to the navigator. "What have I said about calling me dude?"
"To not." Sam responded, an oddly warm feeling coursing through him. This was a regular discussion between them, a comfortable, playful exchange that somehow told him that despite what he'd heard, Kurt Hummel didn't think less of him. "Sorry Dude."
Kurt laughed, starting to get inside. Sam stood back, allowing him space, hands in his Letterman jacket, unable to fight the grin on his face. He liked it when Kurt laughed, he realized. It was a soft sound- almost...pretty.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Sam." Kurt had finally said, smiling at him from the window before pulling out of the driveway. For a moment, Sam realized he hadn't said a word- his eyes had been more blue today, he realized- before waving once. He'd stayed watching, The Navigator turning onto the street before he turned finally, wondering if Kurt had seen him as he headed to his own car, the sense of relief and sheer gratitude toward the other boy filling him.
A week later, Sam Evans ended up returning the favor.
He'd been rounding the corner when he saw Kurt, Azimio and Karofsky, the latter two crowding around the other boy in the middle of the hallway. Sam felt bile rise in this throat- he looked so tiny compared to the other two- although from Kurt's expression of triumph he could tell Kurt had, once again, delivered a verbal lashing that was probably as painful as a kick to the 'nads.
His smirk of pride changed, however, when he saw Azimio raise a fist.
Where was Puck? Where was Finn? Hadn't they all agreed to walk with Kurt between classes, quite literally forming the safe perimeter they'd promised so long ago? Kurt had supposedly not been harassed once since then- but then again, Sam realized, Kurt would never mention it.
Help Him. A voice hissed in his head- but before he could listen another voice, louder, more desperate voice cooed that Kurt could handle himself. That helping him would just be hurting Kurt's pride. That he should just walk away.
Karofsky took a step toward the brunette- and something in Sam snapped as he saw the flash of genuine fear, so different from the haughty disdain of only moments ago, pass through those eyes.
"Hey, Kurt." He found himself saying, stepping between Karofsky and Azimio, his voice calm and friendly, though he hoped Kurt could see the urgency in his eyes. "Can you help me with something, real quick?" Let's go. Let's go so they can't hurt you.
"Sam-" Kurt began, before Karofsky interrupted, pushing Sam away with an obnoxious laugh, although there was something in Karofsky's eyes that caught Sam off guard for a second- it was gone before he could notice it. "We're busy, Evans, learn some damn respect." The burly hockey player smirked, turning to face Kurt, who somehow managed to look even more terrified.
"Get the fuck away from him." Sam's voice was low, reaching for Kurt, intending to pull him away before this could any uglier.
"Why the fuck do you care, Evans?" Azimio retorted, grabbing Sam's wrist before he could pull away. "This ain't none of your business!"
"Don't fucking touch me- Kurt-" He said again, pulling away from Azimio when Karofsky interrupted.
"What- trying to save your boyfriend, Evans?"
That same odd look in the larger male's eyes, the taunting tone of his voice elevating as he turned to face Sam. Before Sam could respond, Kurt had pushed through both of them, shoving both of the jocks away with a scathing glare.
"He isn't my boyfriend. You need to back off-!"
"Don't you fucking touch me, you freak!" Azimio snarled, raising a fist. For a split second, he saw Kurt wince, expecting a blow, when he pulled Kurt out of the way, hearing a howl- the punch had missed, somehow catching Karofsky instead.
"MY NOSE. MY FUCKING NOSE!" Behind him, Kurt made a soft, horrified sound.
Azimio stumbled back, gripping his fist with a loud curse, before turning on Sam.
"Evans, you fucked up now. Sticking up for this little fag shit? You're DONE. You're fucking DONE, you girly ass Homo." Azimio said, apparently realizing now that they were in the school hallway, that the noise they were making was inadvertedly attracting the attention of teachers, who were making their way towards them even as he spoke.
Time seemed to stop, even for a split second, as Sam Evans replied:
"Can't change what I've always been."
With that, he turned on heel, his hand finding Kurt's and leading him away as the nurse and the rest of the teachers reached them. The students in the hallway who'd been around to hear the whole affair were staring at him, at Kurt, whispering, pointing at their hands, murmuring and mumbling in hushed, shocked tones. Sam didn't care, couldn't care- the only thing on his mind was to get Kurt away, to get out of there before either of those stupid bullies could decide to blame the hit on them.
He didn't turn to see Kurt's eyes, wide, staring at the back of the blonde- Number 6 - too shocked to protest Sam leading him away, too shocked to even ask where they were going.
He didn't turn to see Karofsky's eyes on the pair as they walked away, to see the hatred, the guilt, the jealousy that had thrown him off so about the jock's behavior.
He simply walked, pulling the brunette into a quieter hallway and into the first classroom he found.
Finally, he let go- and had the situation been different, Sam might have laughed at finding himself in the astronomy room.
But the situation was different, very different, entirely different- because Sam Evans had just publicly outed himself in front of the entire school.
Kurt broke the silence.
"...You didn't have to do that." His voice was soft, but somehow calm, somehow grateful, somehow even...proud. Sam didn't turn around- he didn't have to. He simply nodded slowly, facing Mars, facing Venus, noting how the swirl of green and blue of the latter planet was familiar... even comforting, even through the whirlwind of his thoughts, before replying softly:
"Yeah. I did."