No matter what told him to just run and flee, something held him back. He couldn't just... leave things how they were. He knew it was mostly his fault. He'd been avoiding Kurt purposely harder than usual. With a school as big as McKinley, it really wasn't that hard. You just headed into the opposite hallway, and there you were. Or in his case, grab a Cheerio's hand, and everything became simple like that, when they led him off somewhere else. Usually just to class, but it worked. Because... Sam wasn't into some of the things they attempted to tempt him with. No way, no how. He was glad he'd decided to stay nameless with some of those girls. Shaking the thought from his head, he returned to watching Kurt, and he bit on his lower lip, contemplating what he should say to him. If there was anything he could say to him
( ... )
Sam grinned, "Hey, if the lack of knowledge is all you need... I have no problem at all offering my services in teaching. I've been into this game... far... too long. I could tell you just about everything you'd want to know." Not that he expected Kurt to want to know much, but he could. "My dad and I have about ten years of games and super bowl games on tape. I could show you them. Let you learn from letting you see some of the bad games over the years." He thought back to the McKinley team and had to nod. "Some of those guys on the team.. they need something, at least. What exactly, I don't know. But something." His eyes lingered on Kurt's arm for another moment, before looking away. "There's a shop here in the mall I could show you that sells the cream. Granted, I don't know anything else about skin care... but this? I know
( ... )
"Well... my Dad used to play in high school, and he sounds like he would get along really well with you and your Dad. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're the sort of son my Dad expected when I was born, only, he got me. Not that it's a problem! It's not. He still loves me, and he tries to understand what I like and all that, but I've only been out to him for about a year now. When I told him, he told me he knew since I was three. I was just scared to tell anyone. But that's a whole other issue." Kurt waved his hand dismissively. "The thing is, I try to understand what he loves too, but sport has always gone way over my head. I used to get more into the half-time singing and dancing at the Superbowl than the actual throwing around of a ball. I used to put on concerts for my Dad at half-time, and it always seemed the normal thing to do. I'm probably more cut out to be a Cheerio than a football player
( ... )
"Trust me when I say... I wasn't exactly the son my dad expected," Sam said, snorting. "I might like football... but I'd rather be in my room with my laptop and comic books. If I get the option of going out or home, it's usually home I choose." He shrugged, "I'm a geek." He lowered his voice, "That's one of my secrets. Don't let anyone else know." He stared at Kurt for a moment, grinning. "The half time shows are always interesting. Watching the commercials on TV though? THAT is amazing. Every year... better and better. Have you ever been to one of the games?" He had to grin at the idea of Kurt putting on the little skits for his father. "I bet you were an adorable kid. Cheerleaders are amazing athletes," Sam nodded, "Do you think you have the discipline to be a Cheerio? Listening to them... I don't think I would
( ... )
Kurt waved his hand and smirk. "Welcome to the world of geeks. That's why you're in Glee Club. Worse misfitted bunched of misfits to ever walk the earth. All we need is our own sideshow and the stereotype will be complete. Just, no matter how hard you try to roll with it, it's never easy swallowing the fact that people think you're a freak for just being yourself. Because beyond being someome else, there is no way to fix it." He shrugged and then shook his head. "Nope. The first game I've ever been to was that one I played in. I only ever just watched because it was spending time with Dad. It's just me and him. My Mom died when I was eight, so we did the best we could. I just always had the attention span of an ant unless it involved music or performing. Or clothes. I love clothes, and fashion. So, you don't get out much? Explains why you were kinda nervous at that party. I don't blame you, though. They're not overly my scene either. The decor always sucks. And no one would Coach S want me anywhere near the Cheerios. I don't have
( ... )
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