The Window [2/10]
Title: The Window [2/10]
Author: simonspoopoo (seri22)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don’t own glee… sad face.
Summary: Future!fic. There are times when you just have to take what you can get.
Author’s note: So, if you haven’t read or seen any of the peter pan stories or films, or at least Hook, then some of this story might not make sense to you. So I highly suggest looking it up on wikipedia or something. Thanks to my fabulous Beta, HanJob. <3
---OoOoO
Sam doesn’t remember why he started seeing Kurt again, but he likes to pretend it’s because of Santana. She really has nothing to do with it, but it makes the whole situation a lot easier to swallow. They aren’t dating, him and Santana, they definitely aren’t friends, and saying they tolerate each other would be generous. Still, Sam knows why the raven hair girl calls him at least three times a week for coffee, even if she isn’t willing to say it. His blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and eyes that have managed to retain their child like brightness. These things bring Santana to that place where she isn’t lonely, bring her to a happier place.
She looks up from her coffee to meet his eyes, grinning in a way that isn’t as colourful as it used to be.
“Hey Lady Lips.” She calls out to him, and Sam can’t help but roll his eyes.
Somethings never change.
They sit in pointless silence for a while before Sam begins to fidget. Hey waits though, because he knows Santana needs it. They do this every time they meet. Sometimes, they stay like this the entire time, just sitting there with half empty, cold cups of terrible coffee sitting between them. A thought tugs at the blonde’s lips until a smirk starts peeking through.
“Kurt does this a lot.” he says, and Santana puzzles at him. “With coffee, I mean. He’ll get a grande and take two, maybe three sips out of it, then just holds the thing until it’s cold.” Santana doesn’t say anything, just watches as his smirk unfolds into an actual smile. “I never really understood why.” She watches as the corners of his mouth fall a little. “Then again, there isn’t a lot I really understand about him.”
She’s still staring at him, and it makes him fidget again. She downs the rest of her drink before flagging the waitress over. He thinks she’s getting ready to leave, but instead she orders them another round of drinks.
“Have you ever tried asking him?” The blonde takes a breath and tells himself he’s nervous. For many reasons, he should be. This is the first time he’s ever talked about this thing with Kurt and it should terrify him. He lets himself believe it does.
“We don’t really do a lot of talking.” he says before he has a chance to stop himself. He didn’t intend for her to know that much.
Just then, the waitress comes back. “I’m sorry sir, I forget to ask what kind of milk you’d like with y-”
“Homo.” Santana cuts in with a grin painted darkly on her face. Waitress nods and walks away. The blonde doesn’t roll his eyes, but he’d really like to punch the raven hair girl in the face.
He doesn’t think he is. Gay that is, not really. He isn’t really sure what he is, which is something he envies Kurt for. The brunette is always so sure of himself, even when he has no idea what he’s doing. That idea shouldn’t make any sense, but it suits Kurt perfectly. It’s comforting, enough so that Sam doesn’t even bother trying to deny anything to Santana. He’d really like to though.
“So are you going to ask him?” she asks, and Sam puzzles at her. “About the coffee thing, are you going to ask him?” She doesn’t usually show any interest in his life, so it’s strange that she does now. “Oh! You’re just banging him. Friends with benefits. Alright, I can get that.” she turns away, all traces of her smirk completely gone. He knows that it’s a sore topic for her, but Sam can’t bring himself to feel any sympathy for her. A subtle anger starts boiling it’s way up the blonde’s chest at Santana’s vulgar description of his time with Kurt, one that he doesn’t want to have to explain to himself. It’s an accurate depiction, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it, and it doesn’t mean he’s going to change it. Sometimes, he wishes that-
“It’s not going to be enough you know. Not forever anyway.” the raven haired girl say, eyes still averted.
“What do you mean?”
This time, she looks at him straight in the eye. “The sex. It’s going to change for one of you.” Her lips purse tightly before she continues. “One of you is going to slip. It takes a very specific person to separate sex with feelings.”
“What makes you think Kurt can’t?”
She doesn’t smile. She doesn’t need to. “I’m sure he can. I meant you, Froggy Lips.” That was unexpected. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think you’re sappy or anything, but I know Kurt better than you think.” There’s another pause before a ghost of fondness twinges in her eyes. “He told Brittany something a long time ago. He told her that he loved musicals because ‘The brush of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets.’” The warm expression is difficult to keep, Sam knows. But he also knows that Santana can’t help but hold it there. “She didn’t get what he meant, so she asked me. I was going to tell her that the homo kid wasn’t into sweet boy kisses. But then it hit me. The kid doesn’t think sex and romance are the same thing.”
Sam just stares at her for a moment before reaching across the table and takes hold of her drink. He brings it to his lips and lets the bitter liquid pool in his mouth before he speaks.
“Do you?”
She smiles at him. It’s distant and doesn’t light up her face, but it’s alive. “It was for Britt and me. The sex was part of something bigger.”
The blonde nods absently at her before she takes his drink. She doesn’t drink it though, just brings it her nose and inhales deeply. “Mint latte. Extra hot, right?” He nods again, but she doesn’t see it as she smiles down into the cup. “Britt used to get the same. Extra whip and way too much sugar to be considered healthy.” Santana doesn’t usually say Brittany’s name. It’s almost like it’s become harder for to to do so since the other blonde moved to L.A. to peruse a life of dancing. The raven hair girl inhales deeply one more time before meeting Sam’s gaze. “Just be careful. It’s going to get a lot more complicated if one of you slips.”
Sam bites the inside of his cheek, like he used to do when he was nervous. It’s a habit that he thought he had broken. “He did already, just once... a few weeks ago. We never talked about it since then.”
Santana makes a noise in the back of her throat, eyeing him expectantly, “What happened?”
The memory is constantly close to the forefront of his mind, but hidden enough where Sam is able to pretend it isn’t. It makes him anxious, his hands rhythmically clenching and unclenching when he finally decides to focus on it.
Sam walks into Kurt’s apartment after a week away from him. The brunette is curled up on his armchair with a book and a pen on his lap and a mug of probably cold coffee beside him. It isn’t too often that the blonde finds him like this, and it’s strange when he does. It’s not the fact that Kurt is scribbling into a novel that irks him. There is something damaged in Kurt’s motions, and it bothers Sam that it doesn’t even seem out of place.
Kurt doesn’t look up from his book until Sam is directly in front of him. Their eyes meet for a fraction of a second before Kurt goes back to his writing. For a moment, Sam thinks that Kurt isn’t in the mood today, and he’s about to leave when Kurt suddenly puts the book down.
In an instant, Kurt’s hands are on the blonde’s belt, pushing him towards the bedroom. It doesn’t take long before Sam is on top of the other boy, the only sound in the room is the creaking of the bed and their heavy breathing. Sam collapses beside Kurt, both trying to steady their breathing.
Sam’s eyes drift to Kurt’s window. It’s just a large, square piece of glass sitting on a window pane that separates it into four smaller sections. It doesn’t open, so it would be considered almost useless save for the light it gifts the room with. The blonde’s eyes travel along Kurt’s sleeping form, marveling at the way the sunlight presses itself against the brunette’s features and Sam is suddenly thankful for a window that doesn’t open.
It’s moments like this that he’s able to appreciate Kurt and what he is. Kurt is like… A storm. Unpredictable. Unstoppable. The kind of beauty that was impossible to capture in a photograph and was most breathtaking when it was fueled with passion.
Without thinking, Sam presses himself against the other teen. Their faces are very close, almost uncomfortably so. They’ve never kissed. Not ever, and the blonde figures this isn’t a good time to start. Kurt would always turn away whenever the blonde tried to. Sam sums it up to being too personal, too cheesy or too real.
So instead, Sam closes his eyes and lightly presses his lips to the brunette’s forehead. Kurt lets out a sleepy noise and shifts slightly.
“I love you.” whispers Kurt. It’s so quite Sam almost misses it. He almost wishes he did.
Both lay perfectly still, not making a sound or taking a breath. The deafening silence becomes too much for Sam as he opens his eyes to chance a glance at Kurt.
The smaller boy’s eyes are wide and burning with the realization of what he just said before settling to a carefully neutral expression as they fall back into a motionless limbo. Sam’s pulse quickens the longer the moment hangs in the air, suddenly breaking when Kurt sighs deeply and slips out of the bed.
He’s shoving his clothes on roughly and is looking anywhere but Sam. When he makes a turn for the door, the blonde grabs his arm, keeping him in place.
“Kurt. I- I… We…” Nothing. Nothing else comes out as the blonde desperately tries to find the right words to say. Slowly, almost as if he’s afraid, Kurt’s eyes meet his. They’re wide and vulnerable and a million exploding words fall dead against Sam’s lips.
A smile forces its way to the corners of Kurt’s mouth. “It’s fine Sam.” he says, gentle removing himself from the taller boy’s grasp. “Let’s just… Not talk about it.” Sam just nods, unsure of how to approach the moment. “You should probably go.”
“So what did you do?” Santana asks, finally breaking her silence. She didn’t say a thing through the story and it amazes Sam how much it seems she’s actually interested.
He shrugs, “I left, what else?”
A range of emotions flash through the Latina’s eyes before they all disappear. Her dark eyes roll at him. “Someone tells you that they love you and you leave? I get that it’s just screwing, but that’s not exactly what you’d like to see happen.”
He doesn’t tell her that it took every sane thought in his head to persuade him not to stay with Kurt, or that he had lingered outside Kurt’s door hours after the brunette told him to leave. He doesn’t tell her how accusing the wood felt against his skin as he pressed his forehead against the door. And he definitely doesn’t tell her that he whispered ‘I’m sorry’ against it, knowing that his words fell onto deaf ears.
Sam doesn’t tell Santana that. He’s scared of what she might find beneath his words. Instead, he shrugs again. “I don’t even know why he said it. Let’s be legit here, it was an intimate moment, and he probably thought I was Blaine.” The words are his own, yet they still sting. “You know him better than I do, and even I can tell Kurt isn’t over the guy. Besides, you say a lot in the heat of the moment and don’t mean most of it”
Sam knows that the ‘heat of the moment’ had long passed when Kurt made his slip, but he hopes Santana doesn’t pick up on that. If she did, she doesn’t comment on it.
“Have you ever read Peter Pan?”
It’s an odd question, and it seems totally unrelated, but Sam answers all the same. “I saw the movie.”
“If Kurt were to start flying, what do you think his happy thoughts would be?” she poses, but doesn’t wait for an answer before she grabs his coffee and leaves.
“I don’t know.” he whispers into her cup. He makes it a point finish her drink.
--- OoOoO
Four days later, Sam finds himself walking into a familiar apartment again, desperately trying to keep Santana’s voice out of his head. Kurt is in the same position Sam usually finds him in, and they end up in the same place they usually do. When they’ve calmed their breathing Sam takes a moment to look around the brunette’s room. There’s barely anything in it save for the bed and a desk covered in sketches and a coffee mug. He finds a coffee mug on the windowsill as well, but there’s something else beside it. He slips off the covers and pads his way to it. It’s a plastic aquarium filled with water with a purple pirate ship inside. There are tiny, white, shrimp like creatures moving around in it.
“Sea monkeys.” Kurt whispers from the bed. He’s sitting up but his eyes are downcast. “I bought them for your birthday. I remember you didn’t have a lot of patience so I thought I’d hatch them for you. I was going to give them to you a while back, but- well you know. I said something a little embarrassing.” The brunette laughs, and it sounds all too forced.
Sam lets his fingers trace over the plastic letters without tearing his eyes away from Kurt. “Why sea monkeys?”
Kurt smiles at him, and it could almost be genuine. Almost. “You said that you wanted to be an astronaut one day. I thought the reason why was really… Nice.”
Sam remembered that day. They were sitting with Mercedes and Tina back when he and Mercedes were still dating. They were talking about what they wanted to be when they grew up and why. Sam said that he wanted to be an astronaut so that he could look down at the world and make it look like it could fit in the palm of his hand.
“Now, I know it’s not the world, but it is their world, and it’s literally in the palm of your hand.” Kurt tells him. He doesn’t know what to say or feel. Kurt remembered. Not only did he remember a moment almost 3 years ago, but he remembered Sam’s birthday. Most people outside his family forgot and he’d let it slide since it wasn’t all that big of a deal. But Kurt remembered. “I know, I know. It’s stupid. You can laugh if you-”
“Thank you.” Sam says. Those words would never convey how grateful he was, but they were the only ones to escape his lips. Kurt just smiles at him.
When Sam gets home, he carefully places the aquarium on his windowsill and watches the life inside it, images of pirates and indians and flying children dancing in his mind. He knows it’s not something that grown-ups should be doing, but he places a thimble beside his gift before he has the sudden urge to clap. It isn’t until the next day that the blonde pulls out his phone and sends a message to Santana.
Maybe I’m slipping too.