fic: FYI (you're driving me crazy) [part 1]
Title: FYI (you're driving me crazy)
Author: mrjapan2
Rating: PG-13 (but could go up to NC-17 later)
Pairings: Sam/Kurt
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine, and same goes for any of its components.
Summary: Sam's not sure how he failed to notice Kurt's awesomeness until now. What he's certain of, anyhow, is that he has to make up for lost time.
Author's note: This is a prologue to a multi-chaptered fic. It's labeled as part 1, but every single stories I write have an intro/prologue to them, so yeah. Chapters are 3x/4x as long.
K, you got me. Basically, I'm setting a careful foot in the community in case anyone would be interested to see where I'm going with this :) Also, this fic takes in consideration events that happened before 2.18, but as the season moves on, it might ignore future episodes. Just telling.
It’s one of those Friday nights.
The atmosphere is relaxed and warm, and even though Sam can hear Puck’s cursing and jeering from the basement, it definitely is tranquil. Just friends gathering into the Hummel-Hudson household for a couple of movies and video games, and hell, he likes it. It took him a while to fit and bond with people from McKinley and the other Glee kids-being the new student is never easy, after all, and he’d wasted most of his first few weeks alone at home to study or read comic books or play WoW. It did give him enough time to get his Warlock to 85, actually, but it’s not the same. Owning everyone in PvP gets old very fast.
Now, he’s been part of the group for a while. Despite all the shit they get for being in Glee, it feels right. More than right. They’re awesome people, with enough energy to power a whole city all by themselves and hearts big enough to make you feel loved every second you spend with them. It’s kind of cool.
“So, where’s this soda?” Sam asks, leaning inside the fridge with a frown. It’s overloaded, not to say the least. He guesses that if you’re living with Finn, you’ve got to be always fully stocked. Guy eats three horses a day.
Finn, innumerable chips bags clutched in both arms, mimics Sam. “Check the second bo-hey, actually, I’ve got beers.”
“Burt and Carole are okay with that?”
Sam recalls that time they raided Rachel’s dads wine cellar. His stomach churns unpleasantly.
“Burt said we could grab a couple if we wanted,” Finn says with enthusiastic nods, grin plastered on his face as he produces the aforementioned beers from the fridge’s inmost depths.
Yet again, Sam frowns, his lips thinned in a sharp line. Finn rolls his eyes and signals the cans of soda hiding behind several pots and aliments, and without further ado, the fridge’s door is closed and they’re heading for the basement. Finn almost trips on his oversized feet as they move down, letting out a not-so-masculine yelp in the process. It elicits a loud guffaw from Sam. Finn glares above his shoulder, and in a very manly fashion, he continues his trek down the perilous steps. Sam shakes his head and follows.
When they arrive downstairs, the situation is worse than they expected.
Puck’s on his feet, annoyance clear on his face as he glowers at a nonchalant Kurt, calmly sitting on the couch in front of the TV. Kurt’s just inspecting his perfectly manicured nails with a bored expression as a distraught Puck yells, “How did you even do that?” He’s pointing at the TV screen, at a Call of Duty endgame stats board, and if Porcelain’s score is of any indication, Kurt’s a decent 24 kills ahead of milfhunt3r.
“You have to watch your back when there’s a Hummel and a sniper in the same vicinity. Unfortunate things happen in such cases,” is Kurt’s composed response, which only serves to fuel Puck’s displeasure even more.
“You no-scope’d me all game!”
“Sarah Palin is my aunt. I thought that wasn’t a secret.”
Puck groans and childishly slouches back on the couch, resolutely staring at the faraway wall opposite Kurt. Finn and Sam go to mingle with the other guys, with Mike and Artie noticing their entry and helping them free their hands from the treats they brought. They almost go batshit upon seeing beer (which are also the first items to leave Finn’s hands), and as Sam sees the still annoyed Puck, he goes to sit in-between Kurt and he on the couch, smirk in place. He motions the beers to Puck, who now sports an eager expression, anger completely washed away. Puck makes his way to leave. Sam grabs the abandoned controller.
“You’re so going down, Hummel.”
Surprised by the statement and the unexpected bravado, Kurt huffs and hits it. “And you’re two-thousand late, Samuel.”
Sam hadn’t expected to have so much fun.
Fact being, Kurt isn’t usually with them. He’s one of the Glee dudes, but for obvious reasons, he spends more time out with the girls than anything. Tonight, exceptionally, Kurt doesn’t have anything to do and has decided to tag along with them, and hey, it’s a nice addition overall. It brings some fresh air to the commonly macho environment (what with Puck and Finn producing abnormally high levels of testosterone). Mike is also glad to talk with Kurt about arts and dance and stuff, and Artie is delighted to converse with someone smart other than Mike for once. They all have lots of affinities with Kurt, they know, and even if he isn’t attending every of the guys’ activities, it’s a known fact that Kurt is always welcome.
Sam’s surprised. If there was a list on who saw Kurt less, he’d probably be at the top. They just don’t have any occasion to talk, face to face, and connect. Since the duet incident at the beginning of the year, they hadn’t exactly… well, it’s cold, more or less. Sam knows Kurt had done what he thought best according to the circumstances, but it obviously had made a dent in what could have been a casual friendship. Then, Kurt had departed for Dalton because of Karofsky, and he was even more out of sight, and that was that. They’re practically only acquaintances now, even though they do see each other inside and outside of school from time to times. Only, you know, with people.
Whole point is, when Kurt beats him for the fifth time in a row in a Halo deathmatch, he knows he needs to get to know the guy. Being repeatedly punched, shot and thrown plasma grenades at does that to a man.
“You did well, Sam. One hundred percent is not always enough, but nice try.” The shadow of a smile plays on Kurt’s lips. He’s disbarring confidence and cockiness, and although Sam would like to prove him wrong, he’s quite aware it might be impossible. Kurt has every right to be arrogant. Sam’s doubtlessly a very good FPS player, but he’s no sore loser. It happens.
Besides, the bewilderment he feels at being crushed by an amateur diva is totally worth it. It amuses him to no extent. How Kurt manages to be so skilled video game-wise is a mystery Sam plans to ultimately uncover, though.
Finn calls for a movie (Fast and Furious 5, no less) after the Xbox marathon, making the guys whoop and holler. They take place on the sofa and armchairs, Kurt squished between Finn and Sam on said sofa despite his reluctance to stay and watch such an “outrage to the Hollywoodian chef d’oeuvres created for the past century”, and both Finn and Sam swear they’re not holding Kurt’s arm so firmly on purpose.
By the time the night’s over and the sun’s rising, they’ve listened to a whole lot more movies and played even more Halo afterwards. Puck and Finn pass out on the floor and close to the unlighted fireplace, respectively, having drank a too many beers and exhausted to the bone from their school week. Mike and Artie have been gone for several hours (“You pussies!”). Sam helps Kurt getting Finn upstairs to his bedroom, considering he can’t let this small of a dude drag this humongous of a beast. Neither of them acknowledges the loud snores they’re abandoning downstairs. Poor Puck is thus left behind without an ounce of regret.
Kurt walks Sam to the door when they’re done bedding Sleeping Beauty. Awkward silence ensues, but Sam goes and playfully punches Kurt’s shoulder, and then they both laugh and it’s gone. He bids Kurt good night with a fatigued grin and closes the door behind him, and as he climbs into his pickup, starts the engine and leaves the entryway, he tells himself, “This is something I’d do again anytime.” His cheeks are tinted of pale red, but he quietly incriminates the unusual warmth of this year’s spring for it. He reaches for the acclimatization and turns it on with a quick flick of the wrist.
On his way home, the waking sun barely blinds him. Rather, all his concentration is set on singing at the top of his lungs with Chester Bennington.
Author: mrjapan2
Rating: PG-13 (but could go up to NC-17 later)
Pairings: Sam/Kurt
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine, and same goes for any of its components.
Summary: Sam's not sure how he failed to notice Kurt's awesomeness until now. What he's certain of, anyhow, is that he has to make up for lost time.
Author's note: This is a prologue to a multi-chaptered fic. It's labeled as part 1, but every single stories I write have an intro/prologue to them, so yeah. Chapters are 3x/4x as long.
K, you got me. Basically, I'm setting a careful foot in the community in case anyone would be interested to see where I'm going with this :) Also, this fic takes in consideration events that happened before 2.18, but as the season moves on, it might ignore future episodes. Just telling.
It’s one of those Friday nights.
The atmosphere is relaxed and warm, and even though Sam can hear Puck’s cursing and jeering from the basement, it definitely is tranquil. Just friends gathering into the Hummel-Hudson household for a couple of movies and video games, and hell, he likes it. It took him a while to fit and bond with people from McKinley and the other Glee kids-being the new student is never easy, after all, and he’d wasted most of his first few weeks alone at home to study or read comic books or play WoW. It did give him enough time to get his Warlock to 85, actually, but it’s not the same. Owning everyone in PvP gets old very fast.
Now, he’s been part of the group for a while. Despite all the shit they get for being in Glee, it feels right. More than right. They’re awesome people, with enough energy to power a whole city all by themselves and hearts big enough to make you feel loved every second you spend with them. It’s kind of cool.
“So, where’s this soda?” Sam asks, leaning inside the fridge with a frown. It’s overloaded, not to say the least. He guesses that if you’re living with Finn, you’ve got to be always fully stocked. Guy eats three horses a day.
Finn, innumerable chips bags clutched in both arms, mimics Sam. “Check the second bo-hey, actually, I’ve got beers.”
“Burt and Carole are okay with that?”
Sam recalls that time they raided Rachel’s dads wine cellar. His stomach churns unpleasantly.
“Burt said we could grab a couple if we wanted,” Finn says with enthusiastic nods, grin plastered on his face as he produces the aforementioned beers from the fridge’s inmost depths.
Yet again, Sam frowns, his lips thinned in a sharp line. Finn rolls his eyes and signals the cans of soda hiding behind several pots and aliments, and without further ado, the fridge’s door is closed and they’re heading for the basement. Finn almost trips on his oversized feet as they move down, letting out a not-so-masculine yelp in the process. It elicits a loud guffaw from Sam. Finn glares above his shoulder, and in a very manly fashion, he continues his trek down the perilous steps. Sam shakes his head and follows.
When they arrive downstairs, the situation is worse than they expected.
Puck’s on his feet, annoyance clear on his face as he glowers at a nonchalant Kurt, calmly sitting on the couch in front of the TV. Kurt’s just inspecting his perfectly manicured nails with a bored expression as a distraught Puck yells, “How did you even do that?” He’s pointing at the TV screen, at a Call of Duty endgame stats board, and if Porcelain’s score is of any indication, Kurt’s a decent 24 kills ahead of milfhunt3r.
“You have to watch your back when there’s a Hummel and a sniper in the same vicinity. Unfortunate things happen in such cases,” is Kurt’s composed response, which only serves to fuel Puck’s displeasure even more.
“You no-scope’d me all game!”
“Sarah Palin is my aunt. I thought that wasn’t a secret.”
Puck groans and childishly slouches back on the couch, resolutely staring at the faraway wall opposite Kurt. Finn and Sam go to mingle with the other guys, with Mike and Artie noticing their entry and helping them free their hands from the treats they brought. They almost go batshit upon seeing beer (which are also the first items to leave Finn’s hands), and as Sam sees the still annoyed Puck, he goes to sit in-between Kurt and he on the couch, smirk in place. He motions the beers to Puck, who now sports an eager expression, anger completely washed away. Puck makes his way to leave. Sam grabs the abandoned controller.
“You’re so going down, Hummel.”
Surprised by the statement and the unexpected bravado, Kurt huffs and hits it. “And you’re two-thousand late, Samuel.”
Sam hadn’t expected to have so much fun.
Fact being, Kurt isn’t usually with them. He’s one of the Glee dudes, but for obvious reasons, he spends more time out with the girls than anything. Tonight, exceptionally, Kurt doesn’t have anything to do and has decided to tag along with them, and hey, it’s a nice addition overall. It brings some fresh air to the commonly macho environment (what with Puck and Finn producing abnormally high levels of testosterone). Mike is also glad to talk with Kurt about arts and dance and stuff, and Artie is delighted to converse with someone smart other than Mike for once. They all have lots of affinities with Kurt, they know, and even if he isn’t attending every of the guys’ activities, it’s a known fact that Kurt is always welcome.
Sam’s surprised. If there was a list on who saw Kurt less, he’d probably be at the top. They just don’t have any occasion to talk, face to face, and connect. Since the duet incident at the beginning of the year, they hadn’t exactly… well, it’s cold, more or less. Sam knows Kurt had done what he thought best according to the circumstances, but it obviously had made a dent in what could have been a casual friendship. Then, Kurt had departed for Dalton because of Karofsky, and he was even more out of sight, and that was that. They’re practically only acquaintances now, even though they do see each other inside and outside of school from time to times. Only, you know, with people.
Whole point is, when Kurt beats him for the fifth time in a row in a Halo deathmatch, he knows he needs to get to know the guy. Being repeatedly punched, shot and thrown plasma grenades at does that to a man.
“You did well, Sam. One hundred percent is not always enough, but nice try.” The shadow of a smile plays on Kurt’s lips. He’s disbarring confidence and cockiness, and although Sam would like to prove him wrong, he’s quite aware it might be impossible. Kurt has every right to be arrogant. Sam’s doubtlessly a very good FPS player, but he’s no sore loser. It happens.
Besides, the bewilderment he feels at being crushed by an amateur diva is totally worth it. It amuses him to no extent. How Kurt manages to be so skilled video game-wise is a mystery Sam plans to ultimately uncover, though.
Finn calls for a movie (Fast and Furious 5, no less) after the Xbox marathon, making the guys whoop and holler. They take place on the sofa and armchairs, Kurt squished between Finn and Sam on said sofa despite his reluctance to stay and watch such an “outrage to the Hollywoodian chef d’oeuvres created for the past century”, and both Finn and Sam swear they’re not holding Kurt’s arm so firmly on purpose.
By the time the night’s over and the sun’s rising, they’ve listened to a whole lot more movies and played even more Halo afterwards. Puck and Finn pass out on the floor and close to the unlighted fireplace, respectively, having drank a too many beers and exhausted to the bone from their school week. Mike and Artie have been gone for several hours (“You pussies!”). Sam helps Kurt getting Finn upstairs to his bedroom, considering he can’t let this small of a dude drag this humongous of a beast. Neither of them acknowledges the loud snores they’re abandoning downstairs. Poor Puck is thus left behind without an ounce of regret.
Kurt walks Sam to the door when they’re done bedding Sleeping Beauty. Awkward silence ensues, but Sam goes and playfully punches Kurt’s shoulder, and then they both laugh and it’s gone. He bids Kurt good night with a fatigued grin and closes the door behind him, and as he climbs into his pickup, starts the engine and leaves the entryway, he tells himself, “This is something I’d do again anytime.” His cheeks are tinted of pale red, but he quietly incriminates the unusual warmth of this year’s spring for it. He reaches for the acclimatization and turns it on with a quick flick of the wrist.
On his way home, the waking sun barely blinds him. Rather, all his concentration is set on singing at the top of his lungs with Chester Bennington.