The Window [1/10]
Title: The Window [1/10]
Author: simonspoopoo (seri22)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don’t own glee… sad face.
Author's Note: Future!Fic
Summary: There are times when you just have to take what you can get.
---
Sometimes, when no one is looking, Kurt likes to pretend. It isn’t something that he’s very good at, but every now and then, Kurt likes to let his mind wander to places he knows are bad for him.
Like right now, when Sam’s lips are lazily pressing themselves against his shoulder. In the dark corners of the brunette’s mind, he pretends those lips will eventually trail their way to his. He may even pretend this whole thing means a little more to the blonde than just relieving frustration, more than lust.
But those moments are few, and far between. They leave an unforgiving emptiness in their wake, like the soothing cut of an impossibly brilliant blade.
Sam is grunting a little deeper as he starts pressing further, rougher into the brunette.
“I-I’m close.” the blonde stammers, not knowing how much those words ring true for Kurt.
They’re both breathing heavily when Sam presses his forehead against the smaller boy’s. Their eyes meet when Kurt raises his hand to rest on the blonde’s face.
Slowly, as if reluctant, Kurt’s thumb lightly traces the outline of carnation pink lips. Sam’s motions stagger at the contract, uncertainty in his eyes. Kurt lets his touch linger for a moment longer, knowing that he won’t let himself make another mistake like this again for a while. Then, he reaches up and takes a handful of blonde hair, pulling roughly.
Sam seems to understand and quickly brings them both back to the edge. It doesn’t take much longer for either of them to reach their climax. When they finally do, Sam is out cold before he collapses onto Kurt.
Normally, the brunette would roll out from under the other boy, try to occupy himself while waiting for Sam to wake up and leave. Maybe he’s a little self deprecating, but he’s okay with that, so he wraps his arms around the blonde, and snuggles closer. He doesn’t play pretend very often, so he figures it’s alright that he does it for a little longer.
---
Sam was dreaming.
He had been having this dream quite often recently, playing over and over behind the curtains of his mind. It was really more of a memory, really. He dreams of the first time he and Kurt slept together. Kurt was different back then, but Sam isn’t sure how. It was back when his family was still living in the motel room, back before his parents were able to get back on their feet and able to buy their house back. He was only stopping by to drop off some more old clothes, while Quinn took Stacy and Stevie to the park. She was trying give Sam a chance to think, to wrap his head around what a hot mess his life was. He guesses it isn’t much better now, but its fucked up for different reasons. His head is buried in his hands, fingers carding through his too-long blonde locks as his mind sorts aimlessly through his thoughts. Sam doesn’t hear the knocking, nor does hear anyone slip in. He doesn’t notice his name being softly called, doesn’t feel the bed dipping slightly. It isn’t until a warm, slender hand is resting on his thigh that Sam is pulled back from the darkness. He’s just so tired, mentally and emotionally. He’s honestly just so spent from keeping up so many masks and brave faces, each of them slowly slipping off. Kurt was something real and unyielding. Kurt was just… there. Sam’s almost glad that this mask was the first to go.
His eyes, clouded with tears, lock themselves on Kurt’s hand as it slowly runs up and down his thigh. The action is soothing, and before he has a chance to stop himself he’s on top of Kurt, hands working their way under his shirt. The brunette is completely still, breath hitched and eyes wide. When Sam realizes what he’s doing, suddenly going as still as the other boy. There is a moment where they stay there, Sam’s hands motionless under Kurt’s designer sweater, the brunette’s mouth twisted into an uncertain frown. Then, Sam is lowering himself to Kurt’s ear, breath ragged and lips trembling.
“Can I…” Tears start falling from Sam’s eyes and run down the side of Kurt’s face. He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn’t want it this much. “Stop me.”
Kurt lets out a a slow, shaky breath. He’s still silent as his nervous hands reach for Sam’s belt. It’s awkward and sloppy, nothing like he imagined his first time would be, but its exactly what he needs. When its over, the two are silent and bare, staring at the ceiling. When Sam receives a text message from Quinn saying they were on their way back, the two silently dress. When Kurt slips into the his jacket, something in the air shifts as he spins around to face the blonde, smiling widely.
“Well, at least you weren’t lying when you said we weren’t ‘hooking up’ before.” says the brunette, still smiling. “I guess w-”
Something’s buzzing on the floor, slowly rousing Sam back to reality. His eyes open slowly adjusting to the low light in the room. He’s on Kurt’s bed. And Kurt is under him. Still. He finds himself in this position more often than he’s used to, and it’s comfortable in the most unnerving way. Still, he doesn’t move. It isn’t very often someone gets to see Kurt like this; unguarded, peaceful. Almost happy. Sam tells himself that it isn’t as though he waits for moments like this. Nine out of ten times, he believes it. After that afternoon in his motel room, things went on normally, Sam didn’t really think about it because honestly, there was so much other shit in his life that he just didn’t have the time. Even if he did, what is one supposed to think after something like that happens?
Kurt still brought him clothes every now and then, one time even bringing him a muffin, but never breathing a word of that day, which Sam is grateful for. He isn’t sure what he was thinking, and almost a year after the time in the motel, when he asks Kurt to come by his house after they’ve moved back in and they’d ended up fucking in the living room surrounded by boxes of unpacked belongings, he still isn’t sure what he was thinking. They didn’t used to have sex so often. Usually, it was when Sam was really stressed or upset, like after he failed his third French test in a row, or the time he didn’t make quarterback. At times like those, he’d text Kurt to come over, then make him scream loud enough to really piss off the neighbors. After they’d finish, Sam doesn’t ask the Kurt why he does this for the blonde, and Kurt never offers an explanation. Instead, the next day, they’d nod to each other curtly in the hallways.
During their senior year, Sam started dating Quinn again and the boys don’t see each other at all outside of glee club. Sam doesn’t ask Kurt to come over, and for a while, Kurt stops nodding to him in the hallways. It isn’t until the summer after their graduation starts, when Quinn breaks it off between them and flies to Houston for an internship does Sam find himself in this familiar pattern. The difference is, he finds himself in Kurt’s bed far more often. It’s probably because they have the freedom and privacy to do so; at least, that’s what Sam likes to tell himself. The brunette also picked up a a summer internship somewhere in the next city over, too far to drive to every day from the Hummel - Hudson house, so his dad agreed to help him find a place as long as it was still close enough that Kurt could still make it home for Family Dinner Night.
And so, here they are, a tangled mess of limbs and sheets on Kurt’s giant bed, in his small apartment. He looks down at the marks sprayed along Kurt's neck, absently running his lips along them again. The buzzing on the floor starts up again, and he knows it’s Santana, so he chooses to ignore it for a few more minutes.
---
By the time Kurt opens his eyes, Sam is already slipping into his shoes. They’ve been doing this for too long for anything to feel awkward, so when Kurt enters the living room of his tiny apartment, he barely notices when Sam faces him, nods once, and leaves. Kurt stands in the same spot for a while, just staring at the muddy tracks Sam left on his linoleum floor. The soft click of the door rings through his space longer than it should and Kurt can’t stand it, so he stomps back into his room and throws himself into bed. Fully intending to sleep until the turn of the century, he lets his eyes fall shut.
Courage.
The image burns in the back of his retinas before soft blue eyes pry themselves open. His mind is racing with thoughts and images that crash together. They keep him from any kind of peaceful state, let alone sleep. So he settles for counting the dots on his ceiling, convinced that the sum might bring order to his fucked up excuse for a life. He tells himself that he doesn’t need a diary to write about his issues.
There is a moment when you say to yourself, ‘Oh, there you are!’
Those words force him to remember how used to routine he is, and like clockwork, he’s pulling out his copy of ‘Tuck Everlasting’ and starts scribbling onto the pages. It always amazes Kurt, how a simple idea bursts into pages upon pages of raw feelings and images as they translate into words onto the page under his pen. It’s just as frustrating though, because he shouldn’t have this much of an opinion on the matter. It’s been years since Blaine broke up with him, since the kilt, since prom, since the kiss that-
I-I’m Close.
The pen stops.
Not this again. Kurt groans, because maybe he doesn’t know what to think of this thing with Sam, but he likes to act like its finite, that it’s definitive. Even though Kurt makes the mistake of feeling something different every now and then, the bottom line is that they just fuck. There’s a part of the brunette, the part of him that still likes fairytales and flowers delivered to his door, that part that still wants to read a book all the way to the happy ending. It’s a part of him that should be dead, and it thinks that this whole thing with Sam is actually really sad. Sam is close. He’s the closest thing to happily ever after that Kurt will allow himself to believe in.