The Transiency of Love: Part 3
Title: The Transiency of Love
Author: Koinaka
Rating: R
Pairing(s)/Character(s):Kurt, Sam, Dean, Bobby, Castiel, mentions of other characters as needed.
Genre: Supernatural!Crossover, AU
Spoilers: set post season 3, so everything aired, set between season 3 and 4 for Supernatural, so pretty much everything there too.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy and Eric Kripke respectively.
Summary: Kurt was trying to get through the summer. Sam was trying to forget. Neither of them expected to fall in love.
Warning(s): AU/crossover
Word Count: Around 3200 words for this part.
Written for this prompt @ here.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2
Definitely didn't expect to update so soon! Hopefully everyone enjoys this. There is some implied smut, but I feel so unskillful writing anything of the sort, so I hope that it isn't too awful!
The Transiency of Love
By Koinaka
Please let me forget
all those sweet smiles
all of the passion
all of the heat, the peace, the pain
all those blue skies
where your words were my freedom
Don't-Jewel
Chapter Three
When the Past Catches Up
Everything unraveled on the 4th of July.
The tentative agreement of "Don't Ask Don't Tell'' that they had adopted in the wake of their first fight was beginning to wear thin largely due to a string of mysterious and-as far as Kurt could tell-unanswered phone calls that Sam received.
It wasn't the phone calls that made Kurt angry, but Sam's reaction to said phone calls. Whenever the number would call-and Kurt couldn't be sure that it was the same number every time though he suspected that it was-he went through the same cycle over and over again. He would completely shut down and either lock himself in the bathroom or drive around in the Impala for hours-anything he could do to get away from Kurt although he would always deny that was the reason. And Kurt just hated it because he knew that Sam was hurting-that much was plain to see-but there wasn't anything he could do. Especially since Sam refused to talk about it.
The 4th of July changed that.
The 4th of July was kind of a big deal around the Hummel-Hudson house. Kurt's dad always went all out-huge barbeque, tons of fireworks, the whole shebang. Kurt had never enjoyed the holiday in the past. For one, most of the activities were outdoor activities which might suit some but most certainly did not suit the boy who could scarcely step foot into the sun without burning off a layer of skin. For another, he always ended up stuck with the majority of the planning and cooking for said barbeque because Carole was really hopeless in the kitchen. But Sam had really been looking forward to it.
Kurt first brought up the barbeque the week before in the form of a complaint.
"So apparently my house has been turned into some sort of makeshift firework stand. When I went by the house this afternoon, I couldn't even walk across the living room because it was-no joke-covered in fireworks. They are going way overboard this year."
The apartment wasn't as lacking in the furniture department as it had once been-they had added a couch and even a small TV-the two boys still spent the majority of their time curled up in the bed. This was especially true on that day. It was Sunday which meant that neither of them had to go into work, and it was so oppressively hot outside-and inside because while they did have air conditioning in the apartment it didn't work quite as well as they would have liked-that they hadn't had the energy to do much of anything.
"Really?" Sam, who was propped up on one elbow leaning over Kurt, asked with a quirked eyebrow. "Why's that?"
"It's the third annual Hummel-Hudson 4th of July Barbecue. Ever since my dad married Carole, him and Finn have been trying to compete with our neighbors-the ones on the left side, you know, the ones who always let their dog use the bathroom in our front yard-over who can put on the biggest firework display."
Sam's look had been wistful. "Sounds fun."
Kurt had just laughed and pulled Sam down for a kiss. "Fun? God, no, it'll be awful-it always is-although I suppose this year won't be too bad 'cause you'll be there."
"I will, will I?" Sam had asked then punctuating each word with a kiss-the first on the tip of his nose, the second on the corner of his mouth, the third on his jawline, and the fourth, finally, on his lips.
Kurt had made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat as he deepened the kiss and moved until every inch of Sam's body was covering his own. He loved that Sam was taller than him, loved how defined the muscles in his arms and back were, loved the curve of his spine, the curve of his belly. He loved how attentive Sam was to him. He paid attention to the smallest of details, so he always knew just where to kiss or touch to make Kurt come undone.
What Kurt loved most of all about the physical aspects of their relationship was how connected it made him feel to Sam on more than just a simply physical level. There was so much that Sam kept hidden away inside that sometimes Kurt felt like there was this gulf between them that he would never be able to cross.
But when they made love, there was no gulf. When they made love, Sam let all of his walls down, and even if there was no verbal communication, it was enough for Kurt, because every kiss, every touch, every stroke told him what Sam could not.
Afterward, as their sweat slicked bodies lay tangled together, Sam had, in a rare move, made a confession. "I've never been invited to a family barbecue before. My family...we weren't exactly the Brady's or the Huxtable's. Me and my brother grew up on the road," he paused. "I've never had a real home before."
Feeling almost delirious about the tiny peek into Sam's past, Kurt hadn't been able to hold in his breathy laugh or his smile. "Well, consider yourself officially invited."
Neither of them ended up going to the barbecue though.
The morning of the barbecue started normal enough. Kurt had stayed at his house for a change because there was just so much to do, and he knew exactly what would happen if he stayed over at Sam's, and as nice as that would be, he didn't have time for it. Not if he was to prepare enough food to feed Finn and several of Finn's friends as well as his family and Sam-basically enough food to feed a small army.
Only he hadn't expected to get a frantic phone call from Sam asking him to come over before he'd even left his bed-a frantic phone call that hadn't made much sense. Not that he'd stopped to think about it. No, he'd thrown on the first outfit his hands touched and left the house without so much as leaving a note for his dad.
The first thing he noticed when he got to the apartment was that there were a number of different firearms littering the tiny dining room. The second thing he noticed was that there were several large packages of rock salt not only sitting in the corner of the living room, but that there seemed to be rock salt lining the windows and the door leading out to the tiny balcony. When he was properly inside the door, Sam lined that door in salt as well.
Before he could ask about any of the strange things in the apartment or the frantic phone call, Sam kissed him-kissed him like he had that first day. He kissed him over and over again-hard, desperate, needy kisses that stole his breath away. Without ever parting they somehow managed to undress one another and end up in the bed. There was an edge to their love making then. Like the kisses they had shared before, it seemed almost desperate-as if Sam was trying to imprint himself on every inch of Kurt. When they were finished his entire body ached in the best of ways.
He was still trying to catch his breath when he realized that not only was Sam getting dressed, but he was also, haphazardly, throwing clothes into a knapsack. He got out of bed, then, too.
"Are you going somewhere?"
"I-yes. I have to go away for a few days," he paused and studied Kurt's face for a moment. "I don't have time to explain everything to you now, but I promise you that when I come home, I will tell you everything. I just need for you to do one thing for me."
"Everything?" he echoed.
Sam nodded. "Everything. The truth. About my family, about myself-everything."
Kurt took in a shaky breath. "Okay." He cleared his throat. "What do you need for me to do?"
"I need you to stay here."
At Kurt's confused look, he clarified. "I need you to stay inside the apartment the entire time I'm gone. I can't explain why now, but…I just need you to promise me that you will."
He wanted to question Sam further. To refuse to agree to this ridiculous agreement until he had explained fully, but there was something about the way Sam looked right then-slightly unhinged and more than a little terrified-that made him stop.
"I will," he said finally.
After that, Sam went into great detail about things that made little sense to Kurt. He told Kurt that he needed to make sure that all entrances to the apartment were covered in salt at all times, showed him bottles of water with rosaries floating in the bottom of them before telling him to throw it on anyone who tried to come into the apartment, and finally showed him the special bullets, filled with yet more salt, that he needed to load the guns with. He also handed him a large knife with a strange design on it.
"Don't open the door to anyone. If someone does manage to get in, shoot them. If that doesn't stop them-and it might not-the knife will," he said. Then he pulled out his cell phone and handed it to Kurt. He also slipped the necklace he always wore off of his neck and put it on him.
"I should be back in no more than two days. If I'm gone any longer than that, I want you to call Bobby Singer. His number is listed in my contacts."
"Okay," Kurt said, trying to commit all of the instructions to memory. Then, more than ever, he wanted to force Sam to stop and explain because there were so many things about all of this that bothered him.
Sam straightened up after adding several more things to his knapsack. He pulled Kurt in for one last kiss, pressing their lips softly together. He rested his forehead against Kurt's, his hand tracing first his cheek and then his lips.
"I love you," Kurt said as they parted.
Sam stared at him, stunned. It was the first time either of them had actually said the words. Kurt had wanted to say them for a while, but the timing had never seemed right. Until now, that is.
"I love you, too," he replied, a fond smile on his face.
And then he was gone.
Kurt stood in the same place-in front of the door-for a long time until his legs began to ache. When he did move, he only moved far enough away to sink down onto the couch. He probably would have just sat there all day wondering what the hell had just happened if not for the fact that he needed to call his dad. He had no idea what he was going to say to him, but he knew he would have to call.
Luck was with him, on this at least, because it wasn't his dad that answered but Carol.
"Kurt? We thought you were asleep in your room."
"I was," he said. "I'm with Sam. We left first thing this morning because he had a family emergency. I know that I should have told you first, but there just wasn't any time."
Carole made a sympathetic noise. "Of course there wasn't. Don't worry about a thing. How is he?"
"A mess," he said. That much was the truth at least.
"Give him our love, and you boys be careful."
Guilt curled in his belly as he ended the call. He hated lying to his dad. Sam had better have a good explanation for all of this because, at this point, Kurt was ready to say that he was more than a little crazy. Holy water, bullets made of rock salt, and strange occult looking knives? Yeah, he definitely expected an explanation as soon as Sam got home.
The rest of the day went by without any incident. He jumped every time he heard a loud noise, but it always turned out to be nothing-a car honking its horn, the person next door to them slamming their doors like they were apt to do.
In order to keep his mind off of things, he cleaned every inch of the small apartment, singing along with his iPod as he did. There wasn't much to do-he changed the sheets and made the bed and then dusted the photo frames that lined their small dresser in the bedroom and their new shelf in the living room. They were mostly pictures of the two of them with an odd shot of one or the other by their self. There was one with Sam, Kurt and his dad taken by Finn two weekends ago when his dad had drug the boys off to a baseball game in Cincinnati. Kurt hated baseball but his dad had gotten the tickets from a friend of his, and since Sam had never been to a professional baseball game-which to Finn and his dad had been a travesty of epic proportions-he had acquiesced to the game with little complaints.
He was nearly finished when he came across one he hadn't seen before-it was a close-up of him asleep with his eyelashes curled against his cheek. The quality was poor, but Sam had obviously taken it with his cell phone camera, so that wasn't any surprise.
He took a shower when he was finished cleaning. Most of his clothes were back at home because they had been planning on doing laundry during the barbecue that day, so Kurt ended up wearing one of Sam's many button-down shirts and his own pajama pants. He supposed it was alright to be unkempt this once especially since he wouldn't be leaving the house. Plus the shirt had the added bonus of smelling like Sam.
After the shower he ate, not because he was hungry-because he wasn't-but because he knew he ought to, before curling onto their couch, the knife tucked under the cushion he was laying on and the gun propped up in front of the couch. It didn't take long for him to fall into a fitful sleep.
He woke up sometime later to the sound of someone beating loudly on the door. He approached the door with the gun in one hand and the other pressed against his chest. His heart was beating about a mile a minute.
"Sammy, we know you're in there-open up!"
He looked through the peep hole to find two men-one definitely older and the other probably a couple of years older than Sam-standing there. The younger one bore a striking resemblance to Sam while the older one looked like a trucker.
"You've got about thirty seconds before we knock down the door, Sammy, so I'd open up if I were you."
"Sam, it's us," the older man said. "I'd rather not have this conversation on your front stoop so if you wouldn't mind letting us in.
Before he had time to even think about what to do let alone freak out-like he was on the verge of doing-there was a loud thud followed by the door flying open, the chain lock breaking off and the door hitting the wall opposite of it. He grabbed one of the containers of water that Sam had scattered around the living room and tossed the contents onto the two men.
They spluttered for a minute before wiping the water out of their eyes.
Kurt was about to panic. The men had sidestepped the salt easily enough and seemed unaffected by the water-not that he would have known the difference otherwise-but the fact remained that there was currently two rather wet strangers standing in his living room. Two rather wet strangers who had busted his door open.
"Don't come any closer or I'll shoot," he commanded shrilly, holding the gun with two very shaky hands. He knew the basics of using a gun-his dad had made sure of that-but he had had little practical experience.
The two men exchanged nervous looks before holding their hands up in surrender. "Easy now," the younger one said. "No need to shoot anyone. We're just here looking for my brother-Sam Winchester, you ever heard of him?"
Kurt eyed the man shrewdly. "You're lying. Sam's brother is dead. Who are you really?"
The younger man made to speak again but the older one shot him a look. "I'm Bobby, and this here is Dean. We're both good friends of Sam's."
Bobby… as in Bobby Singer? The person Sam had told him to call in case he wasn't home by tomorrow night?
"Bobby Singer?"
The older man nodded before exchanging looks with the younger man-Dean-once again. "Yeah, that's right."
Kurt lowered the gun but didn't drop it. "If you're looking for Sam, he isn't here. He didn't say where he was going-only that I should call you if he wasn't home by tomorrow night."
While Kurt was talking to Bobby, Dean was looking around the room. He bent over and picked up one of the pictures lining the shelf. His eyes flitted between the picture and Kurt before finally setting it back down. "I'm sorry, but who the hell are you?"
"I'm Kurt. Sam's boyfriend."
Author: Koinaka
Rating: R
Pairing(s)/Character(s):Kurt, Sam, Dean, Bobby, Castiel, mentions of other characters as needed.
Genre: Supernatural!Crossover, AU
Spoilers: set post season 3, so everything aired, set between season 3 and 4 for Supernatural, so pretty much everything there too.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Ryan Murphy and Eric Kripke respectively.
Summary: Kurt was trying to get through the summer. Sam was trying to forget. Neither of them expected to fall in love.
Warning(s): AU/crossover
Word Count: Around 3200 words for this part.
Written for this prompt @ here.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2
Definitely didn't expect to update so soon! Hopefully everyone enjoys this. There is some implied smut, but I feel so unskillful writing anything of the sort, so I hope that it isn't too awful!
The Transiency of Love
By Koinaka
Please let me forget
all those sweet smiles
all of the passion
all of the heat, the peace, the pain
all those blue skies
where your words were my freedom
Don't-Jewel
Chapter Three
When the Past Catches Up
Everything unraveled on the 4th of July.
The tentative agreement of "Don't Ask Don't Tell'' that they had adopted in the wake of their first fight was beginning to wear thin largely due to a string of mysterious and-as far as Kurt could tell-unanswered phone calls that Sam received.
It wasn't the phone calls that made Kurt angry, but Sam's reaction to said phone calls. Whenever the number would call-and Kurt couldn't be sure that it was the same number every time though he suspected that it was-he went through the same cycle over and over again. He would completely shut down and either lock himself in the bathroom or drive around in the Impala for hours-anything he could do to get away from Kurt although he would always deny that was the reason. And Kurt just hated it because he knew that Sam was hurting-that much was plain to see-but there wasn't anything he could do. Especially since Sam refused to talk about it.
The 4th of July changed that.
The 4th of July was kind of a big deal around the Hummel-Hudson house. Kurt's dad always went all out-huge barbeque, tons of fireworks, the whole shebang. Kurt had never enjoyed the holiday in the past. For one, most of the activities were outdoor activities which might suit some but most certainly did not suit the boy who could scarcely step foot into the sun without burning off a layer of skin. For another, he always ended up stuck with the majority of the planning and cooking for said barbeque because Carole was really hopeless in the kitchen. But Sam had really been looking forward to it.
Kurt first brought up the barbeque the week before in the form of a complaint.
"So apparently my house has been turned into some sort of makeshift firework stand. When I went by the house this afternoon, I couldn't even walk across the living room because it was-no joke-covered in fireworks. They are going way overboard this year."
The apartment wasn't as lacking in the furniture department as it had once been-they had added a couch and even a small TV-the two boys still spent the majority of their time curled up in the bed. This was especially true on that day. It was Sunday which meant that neither of them had to go into work, and it was so oppressively hot outside-and inside because while they did have air conditioning in the apartment it didn't work quite as well as they would have liked-that they hadn't had the energy to do much of anything.
"Really?" Sam, who was propped up on one elbow leaning over Kurt, asked with a quirked eyebrow. "Why's that?"
"It's the third annual Hummel-Hudson 4th of July Barbecue. Ever since my dad married Carole, him and Finn have been trying to compete with our neighbors-the ones on the left side, you know, the ones who always let their dog use the bathroom in our front yard-over who can put on the biggest firework display."
Sam's look had been wistful. "Sounds fun."
Kurt had just laughed and pulled Sam down for a kiss. "Fun? God, no, it'll be awful-it always is-although I suppose this year won't be too bad 'cause you'll be there."
"I will, will I?" Sam had asked then punctuating each word with a kiss-the first on the tip of his nose, the second on the corner of his mouth, the third on his jawline, and the fourth, finally, on his lips.
Kurt had made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat as he deepened the kiss and moved until every inch of Sam's body was covering his own. He loved that Sam was taller than him, loved how defined the muscles in his arms and back were, loved the curve of his spine, the curve of his belly. He loved how attentive Sam was to him. He paid attention to the smallest of details, so he always knew just where to kiss or touch to make Kurt come undone.
What Kurt loved most of all about the physical aspects of their relationship was how connected it made him feel to Sam on more than just a simply physical level. There was so much that Sam kept hidden away inside that sometimes Kurt felt like there was this gulf between them that he would never be able to cross.
But when they made love, there was no gulf. When they made love, Sam let all of his walls down, and even if there was no verbal communication, it was enough for Kurt, because every kiss, every touch, every stroke told him what Sam could not.
Afterward, as their sweat slicked bodies lay tangled together, Sam had, in a rare move, made a confession. "I've never been invited to a family barbecue before. My family...we weren't exactly the Brady's or the Huxtable's. Me and my brother grew up on the road," he paused. "I've never had a real home before."
Feeling almost delirious about the tiny peek into Sam's past, Kurt hadn't been able to hold in his breathy laugh or his smile. "Well, consider yourself officially invited."
Neither of them ended up going to the barbecue though.
The morning of the barbecue started normal enough. Kurt had stayed at his house for a change because there was just so much to do, and he knew exactly what would happen if he stayed over at Sam's, and as nice as that would be, he didn't have time for it. Not if he was to prepare enough food to feed Finn and several of Finn's friends as well as his family and Sam-basically enough food to feed a small army.
Only he hadn't expected to get a frantic phone call from Sam asking him to come over before he'd even left his bed-a frantic phone call that hadn't made much sense. Not that he'd stopped to think about it. No, he'd thrown on the first outfit his hands touched and left the house without so much as leaving a note for his dad.
The first thing he noticed when he got to the apartment was that there were a number of different firearms littering the tiny dining room. The second thing he noticed was that there were several large packages of rock salt not only sitting in the corner of the living room, but that there seemed to be rock salt lining the windows and the door leading out to the tiny balcony. When he was properly inside the door, Sam lined that door in salt as well.
Before he could ask about any of the strange things in the apartment or the frantic phone call, Sam kissed him-kissed him like he had that first day. He kissed him over and over again-hard, desperate, needy kisses that stole his breath away. Without ever parting they somehow managed to undress one another and end up in the bed. There was an edge to their love making then. Like the kisses they had shared before, it seemed almost desperate-as if Sam was trying to imprint himself on every inch of Kurt. When they were finished his entire body ached in the best of ways.
He was still trying to catch his breath when he realized that not only was Sam getting dressed, but he was also, haphazardly, throwing clothes into a knapsack. He got out of bed, then, too.
"Are you going somewhere?"
"I-yes. I have to go away for a few days," he paused and studied Kurt's face for a moment. "I don't have time to explain everything to you now, but I promise you that when I come home, I will tell you everything. I just need for you to do one thing for me."
"Everything?" he echoed.
Sam nodded. "Everything. The truth. About my family, about myself-everything."
Kurt took in a shaky breath. "Okay." He cleared his throat. "What do you need for me to do?"
"I need you to stay here."
At Kurt's confused look, he clarified. "I need you to stay inside the apartment the entire time I'm gone. I can't explain why now, but…I just need you to promise me that you will."
He wanted to question Sam further. To refuse to agree to this ridiculous agreement until he had explained fully, but there was something about the way Sam looked right then-slightly unhinged and more than a little terrified-that made him stop.
"I will," he said finally.
After that, Sam went into great detail about things that made little sense to Kurt. He told Kurt that he needed to make sure that all entrances to the apartment were covered in salt at all times, showed him bottles of water with rosaries floating in the bottom of them before telling him to throw it on anyone who tried to come into the apartment, and finally showed him the special bullets, filled with yet more salt, that he needed to load the guns with. He also handed him a large knife with a strange design on it.
"Don't open the door to anyone. If someone does manage to get in, shoot them. If that doesn't stop them-and it might not-the knife will," he said. Then he pulled out his cell phone and handed it to Kurt. He also slipped the necklace he always wore off of his neck and put it on him.
"I should be back in no more than two days. If I'm gone any longer than that, I want you to call Bobby Singer. His number is listed in my contacts."
"Okay," Kurt said, trying to commit all of the instructions to memory. Then, more than ever, he wanted to force Sam to stop and explain because there were so many things about all of this that bothered him.
Sam straightened up after adding several more things to his knapsack. He pulled Kurt in for one last kiss, pressing their lips softly together. He rested his forehead against Kurt's, his hand tracing first his cheek and then his lips.
"I love you," Kurt said as they parted.
Sam stared at him, stunned. It was the first time either of them had actually said the words. Kurt had wanted to say them for a while, but the timing had never seemed right. Until now, that is.
"I love you, too," he replied, a fond smile on his face.
And then he was gone.
Kurt stood in the same place-in front of the door-for a long time until his legs began to ache. When he did move, he only moved far enough away to sink down onto the couch. He probably would have just sat there all day wondering what the hell had just happened if not for the fact that he needed to call his dad. He had no idea what he was going to say to him, but he knew he would have to call.
Luck was with him, on this at least, because it wasn't his dad that answered but Carol.
"Kurt? We thought you were asleep in your room."
"I was," he said. "I'm with Sam. We left first thing this morning because he had a family emergency. I know that I should have told you first, but there just wasn't any time."
Carole made a sympathetic noise. "Of course there wasn't. Don't worry about a thing. How is he?"
"A mess," he said. That much was the truth at least.
"Give him our love, and you boys be careful."
Guilt curled in his belly as he ended the call. He hated lying to his dad. Sam had better have a good explanation for all of this because, at this point, Kurt was ready to say that he was more than a little crazy. Holy water, bullets made of rock salt, and strange occult looking knives? Yeah, he definitely expected an explanation as soon as Sam got home.
The rest of the day went by without any incident. He jumped every time he heard a loud noise, but it always turned out to be nothing-a car honking its horn, the person next door to them slamming their doors like they were apt to do.
In order to keep his mind off of things, he cleaned every inch of the small apartment, singing along with his iPod as he did. There wasn't much to do-he changed the sheets and made the bed and then dusted the photo frames that lined their small dresser in the bedroom and their new shelf in the living room. They were mostly pictures of the two of them with an odd shot of one or the other by their self. There was one with Sam, Kurt and his dad taken by Finn two weekends ago when his dad had drug the boys off to a baseball game in Cincinnati. Kurt hated baseball but his dad had gotten the tickets from a friend of his, and since Sam had never been to a professional baseball game-which to Finn and his dad had been a travesty of epic proportions-he had acquiesced to the game with little complaints.
He was nearly finished when he came across one he hadn't seen before-it was a close-up of him asleep with his eyelashes curled against his cheek. The quality was poor, but Sam had obviously taken it with his cell phone camera, so that wasn't any surprise.
He took a shower when he was finished cleaning. Most of his clothes were back at home because they had been planning on doing laundry during the barbecue that day, so Kurt ended up wearing one of Sam's many button-down shirts and his own pajama pants. He supposed it was alright to be unkempt this once especially since he wouldn't be leaving the house. Plus the shirt had the added bonus of smelling like Sam.
After the shower he ate, not because he was hungry-because he wasn't-but because he knew he ought to, before curling onto their couch, the knife tucked under the cushion he was laying on and the gun propped up in front of the couch. It didn't take long for him to fall into a fitful sleep.
He woke up sometime later to the sound of someone beating loudly on the door. He approached the door with the gun in one hand and the other pressed against his chest. His heart was beating about a mile a minute.
"Sammy, we know you're in there-open up!"
He looked through the peep hole to find two men-one definitely older and the other probably a couple of years older than Sam-standing there. The younger one bore a striking resemblance to Sam while the older one looked like a trucker.
"You've got about thirty seconds before we knock down the door, Sammy, so I'd open up if I were you."
"Sam, it's us," the older man said. "I'd rather not have this conversation on your front stoop so if you wouldn't mind letting us in.
Before he had time to even think about what to do let alone freak out-like he was on the verge of doing-there was a loud thud followed by the door flying open, the chain lock breaking off and the door hitting the wall opposite of it. He grabbed one of the containers of water that Sam had scattered around the living room and tossed the contents onto the two men.
They spluttered for a minute before wiping the water out of their eyes.
Kurt was about to panic. The men had sidestepped the salt easily enough and seemed unaffected by the water-not that he would have known the difference otherwise-but the fact remained that there was currently two rather wet strangers standing in his living room. Two rather wet strangers who had busted his door open.
"Don't come any closer or I'll shoot," he commanded shrilly, holding the gun with two very shaky hands. He knew the basics of using a gun-his dad had made sure of that-but he had had little practical experience.
The two men exchanged nervous looks before holding their hands up in surrender. "Easy now," the younger one said. "No need to shoot anyone. We're just here looking for my brother-Sam Winchester, you ever heard of him?"
Kurt eyed the man shrewdly. "You're lying. Sam's brother is dead. Who are you really?"
The younger man made to speak again but the older one shot him a look. "I'm Bobby, and this here is Dean. We're both good friends of Sam's."
Bobby… as in Bobby Singer? The person Sam had told him to call in case he wasn't home by tomorrow night?
"Bobby Singer?"
The older man nodded before exchanging looks with the younger man-Dean-once again. "Yeah, that's right."
Kurt lowered the gun but didn't drop it. "If you're looking for Sam, he isn't here. He didn't say where he was going-only that I should call you if he wasn't home by tomorrow night."
While Kurt was talking to Bobby, Dean was looking around the room. He bent over and picked up one of the pictures lining the shelf. His eyes flitted between the picture and Kurt before finally setting it back down. "I'm sorry, but who the hell are you?"
"I'm Kurt. Sam's boyfriend."