Author's Note: A thousand apologies for the tardiness of this chapter. I couldn't decide what I wanted it to be! Originally, this was something like 10,000 words, mostly dealing with the fallout from "Grilled Cheesus" and "Never Been Kissed" and it was all very angsty and dramatic. I wasn't sure how that would fly, so I reworked it. Would be people be interested in me addressing those issues within the context of this fiction, or would you prefer it remaining more comedic? I'll probably work some drama in at a later time, or I might just start another fic altogether. Who knows! Anywhore, I haven't decided yet what the final pairing of this will be. There will be Hevans regardless, but I'm kind of digging the Puckurt and Klaine undertones. Maybe they all get a time-share of one Kurt Hummel. We all know Kurt's too much man for any one boy, don't we? ;)
Oh! With regard to the last chapter, I'm thrilled so many people enjoyed it! I freely admit the utter perfection of Kurt's performance was over the top, but, really, who wants to read about a poor performance? With the exception of Defying Gravity, which was intentional, has Chris Colfer ever delivered a bad performance? Of course not, and neither have the others, so bah. The song used was The Next Dream, and was originally performed by Bernadette Peters on the show Carol & Company sometime in 1989-1990. To my knowledge, the song has never been released commercially, which is a damn shame, because that bitch rocked it (I have it on VHS).
So here endeth my disclaimer. The song was not mine; Bernadette Peters is definitely not mine; I only wish Chris Colfer, Chord Overstreet, and Cory Monteith (C3 for life!) were mine; and Kurt Hummel is sadly not mine. For if he were, every boy would be chasing him and he would pick and choose which one's world he would rock that night. So, yeah, Glee isn't mine. Sadness. D:
Sam was positive that 'I Enjoy Touching Kurt Hummel' needed its own Facebook group, dirty implications aside, because Touching Kurt Hummel was pretty damn epic. And in that moment in which Kurt's cheek was resting comfortably in his hand, Sam Evans decided several things.
First, only fluffy kittens could possibly be cuter or softer than Kurt Hummel. Second, he knew for certain that he wanted Kurt Hummel. Third, he was pretty sure he didn't deserve Kurt Hummel. Fourth, Blaine No-Surname-Provided definitely didn't deserve Kurt Hummel. Fifth, it was possible that no one deserved Kurt Hummel. Sixth, Touching Kurt Hummel made him harder than he'd ever been in his entire life.
As these revelations washed over him, his lizard brain was calling him an idiot for molesting a certain Lady Face belonging to one Sue Sylvester in full view of New Directions, Blaine No-Surname-Provided, and Kurt's other two friends who weren't important enough to have names he could be bothered to remember.
By this point, Sam had cottoned on that he should really say something to Kurt rather than just touching his face and drooling, because Kurt's uncertainty and curiosity were quickly turning into fear. He opened his mouth to speak but simply had no idea what to say, so he stood there, holding Kurt's face and looking like an insane mouthbreather who had a raging erection.
"Sam?" Kurt whispered, voice tight and fraught with tension.
"Please stop touching me," Kurt quietly begged, wrapping his arms around himself and dropping his eyes to the floor.
Sam immediately dropped his hand, his skin scalded. He'd scared Kurt. Jesus, the other boy was terrified. Sam had seen that look on Kurt's face before, and he was devastated that he was now the person who had put it there.
Fail. Epic fail. Game over.
Puck stood unobserved in the opposite corner, watching the two boys with apparent disinterest.
He was feeling a lot of things, but since none of those things were boobs, he wasn't too happy about it. Still, he was supposed to be a kinder, gentler Puck or whatever, thanks to his recent and unfortunate incarceration, because chicks really dug reformed bad boys who were sensitive yet still maintained their edge. He wasn't sure if that made him a douche or a pussy but, hey, it was better than being a sparkly vampire. Because that was all kinds of lame.
So he decided to examine these feelings.
One, he didn't like that Sam was touching Kurt. In fact, he was pretty sure that he didn't want anyone touching Kurt. Ever. He didn't want Kurt in a gay way, but he didn't want any other guy making time with Kurt either. He didn't know what he was feeling for Kurt and, yeah, he had to concede that if he ever got down with another guy, it would have to be with his Little Dude, no question, because the Little Dude really was a seriously hot piece of ass.
But Puck was pretty sure he wasn't feeling lust for the Little Dude. In fact, it was kind of like what he used to feel for Finn, like the Little Dude was his boy and it was his job to take care of him and whatnot. With Finn, though, that had always seemed like a chore or an unwanted responsibility. It wasn't like that with Kurt. He wanted to take of Kurt, to protect him and make him happy. He felt like…a big brother. He liked that feeling, always had.
He didn't like that Finn was now technically Kurt's big brother, because even though Puck was a douche, at least he owned his douchery. Finn was a gigantic douche who was too clueless to know what a douche he really was. And that was just fucking pathetic. Puck realized that even though he was an asshole, he could come through when it really mattered; Finn couldn't. He had proved that by utterly failing the Little Dude not just once, but over and over again. Kurt deserved better.
He wasn't sure that Sam was better, but though he had tried in a major way, Puck couldn't bring himself to hate Sam. Sam was actually a pretty decent guy. He had stepped up for Kurt when Finn hadn't. Maybe that was because he wanted to drill the Little Dude's admittedly sweet ass, but did that really matter? The bottom line was that Sam had put himself out there for no other reason than that he wanted to, because he knew Kurt was worth it.
He frowned, thinking of what he had been told about all that duet shit. Kurt had asked Sam to sing with him; Sam had agreed, knowing but not caring that Kurt was gay. Okay, awesome. But then Finn had stuck his big stupid face where it didn't belong and fucked everything up. Of course. What if Sam had been interested in Kurt from the beginning? Would they be together now if Finn hadn't guilted Kurt into dumping Sam? Did Sam know what Finn had done? Had he believed that Kurt just didn't want him anymore? Would Kurt have stayed at McKinley if he had been with Sam? Because if Finn had fucked them over like that, it was seriously jacked up.
And what about Quinn? Sam had been good to her and good for her. As much as Puck didn't like it, Quinn had been a lot happier with Sam than she had ever been with Finn or Puck himself. But was Sam a good guy if he was with Quinn only because he couldn't have Kurt? Was he just using Quinn as a beard? Because that shit wasn't cool.
Of course, he didn't know for sure that Sam was Grade A Gay. The dude could be totally bi or whatever. Puck knew about bi stuff, and he knew that it was real and not just a cover for sneaky gayness. Santana and Brittany were both bi; he knew this. They dug chicks. They hadn't acted on it with anyone but each other, had never felt the urge, but he had watched them check other girls out, and that was seriously hot. So bi stuff didn't bother him, and gay stuff was cool, too. Pretty people fucking was awesome, no matter what junk they had between their legs. And even though he wasn't gay, he would totally watch Sam and the Little Dude fuck, because he was betting they'd go at it like jackrabbits on meth. And considering how fucking huge their mouths were, he was pretty sure they gave amazing blowjobs. And what was better than a great hummer?
Whoa. Hummel Hummer.
Not to mention Santana was preaching the truth. Little Dude wasn't little where it counted, and Sam was seriously packing. He'd seen them both buttass-naked in the locker rooms. Not that he went in search of rigid, veiny hardness, but when cocks are just hanging out in the wind, it's hard not to look. Didn't mean you had to say howdy. Besides, when you had a big one like Puck did, you didn't get all a-twitter just because you saw some other dude's dick. Fuck, every guy had one.
Shit. Okay, so maybe he had a small kernel of homo or bi-guy power within him. No big. He was pretty sure he wouldn't say no if the Little Dude and Sam offered to be the bookends to his manuscript, or some other gay metaphor. Whatever. If you were going to queer out, best to do it with hot dudes who had big ones. So…yeah.
Wait, what his point again?
Oh, yeah, Quinn! So, what about his very best used-to-be? He slid his eyes over in her direction, knowing that she would definitely have picked up on the massively gay vibes pinging off the walls. And she had. But…huh.
The way she was staring at Sam and Kurt suggested that Christmas had come early for her this year. Oh. He smirked. So that's how it was. Apparently she was down with hot homo loving, if the full-on horny in her eyes was to be believed. Holy shit! She was actually engineering this! Man, he should have known that once she got in tight with Aretha, the badass chunky girl's hag-loving ways would have burrowed under Quinn's skin as well. So his former baby mama was all about the gay matchmaking.
Either that…or she was hung up on Kurt herself and was trying to score a threesome. Well, good for her. He should have known that her inner harlot would emerge sooner or later. He just regretted it was after they had broken up. Hm. If she wanted Sam and Kurt together for whatever reason, how grateful might she be if he assisted in her mission? A hot fourway maybe? He wasn't too sure that Q was a three-input kind of chick, but who knew? Those baby hormones still hadn't fully settled down, so anything went, he figured.
And if Santana and Brittany were somehow brought into this? Because they would totally be down. His eyes glazed over.
Nude Erections Orgy!
But then he noticed how uncomfortable Kurt looked, how scared. To borrow Aretha's ghetto slang: aw, hell to the naw!
Why was his Little Dude so frightened, though? He couldn't be any gayer if his name were Gay Gayerson, so why would he object to a fake blond stud trying to get all up on that? Oh, maybe it was that Bland guy. Were he and the Little Dude exclusive? But Aretha had said the Little Dude wasn't into Bland that way. Course, maybe he just hadn't told her. Despite their freaky gay mojo, he had noticed that the Little Dude and Aretha weren't as tight as they'd been back in the day. He didn't know if that was because of Dalton or Karofsky or Furt or if because Aretha had hitched a ride on the Chocolate Love Express courtesy of Rutherford.
Puck squared his shoulders. Didn't matter. No one hurt his Little Dude. So, the logical course of action was to kill Sam.
But then Rachel fucking Berry sailed over and dragged his Little Dude away. The fuck?
Puck could only hope the Little Dude would finally rip Berry a new one over that fucking awful Frosty sweater she was sporting. He didn't give a great fuck about fashion, but that sweater was just too goddamn ugly not to burn.
Everyone broke off into discussion groups.
Santana, Brittany, and Tina were still raving about Kurt's performance and plotting how to lure him back to McKinley. They were not above staking out Finn as a human sacrifice. It didn't matter that Finn was no longer a virgin, as Santana announced that for all intents and purposes – and denied orgasms – his V-card was still safe and sound. He could just take one for the team, and considering his mailman problem, which, again thanks to Santana, was no longer a secret, he'd only have to endure about twenty seconds of discomfort. Totally fair. Further, Brittany was of the opinion that Kurt should be made to wear his bondage pants during this clandestine operation, to which Santana and Tina enthusiastically agreed. There would be cameras. Lots of them.
The Dalton contingent congregated toward the door, with Wes and David quietly conferring about the latest developments, namely the fact that Kurt was apparently one of those glittery gays of YouTube, who could take any diva song and make it even more fabulous. Sure, his talent didn't necessarily fit in with their plans for The Warblers, but they could adapt. They were like Borg that way. Because no way could they in good conscience not utilize Kurt. If they didn't, someone else would. Maybe they didn't have room to give him a solo at the moment, but if Blaine were willing – and why wouldn't he be? – they could turn one of his leads into a stellar duo. They would sound amazing together, and maybe it would be enough to push Kurt firmly into Blaine's loving embrace.
Blaine was completely oblivious to their shenanigans, too focused on the fact that Sam Evans had made a move on Kurt. Granted, it was a clumsy and inordinately stupid move, but a move all the same. Sam legitimately wanted Kurt. There was absolutely no other way it could be interpreted, right? Not good.
Mercedes was cooing over Matt, who was enjoying it quite a bit and not even bothering to hide it. She couldn't believe her best friend had shelled out such major cash just to make her happy. They'd had a rough patch lately and Mercedes knew she shared equal, if not greater, responsibility, so she was going to put on her big girl pants and do everything in her power to show Kurt how much she loved him, because this rift was stupid. Matt aside - hell, everyone aside - no one was more important to her than her boo. Men came and went, but gay best friends? They were like diamonds: forever. They'd sit next to you in the nursing home and help you swallow your pills while preventing the underpaid orderlies from dressing you up real damn funny.
Mike was just so happy to have Matt back that he was untroubled finding himself seated next to Artie, despite how uncomfortable it was. Artie was a really cool guy and Mike wanted him to be happy. He felt bad for the other dude, he did, but it wasn't like he had stolen Tina out from under him. You couldn't just steal a person, and Tina had already broken up with Artie before she and Mike had gotten together. He knew that Artie and Tina had had problems long before he had come into the picture. Tina didn't like to talk about it, and he didn't pry, but he paid enough attention to know that most people had sided with Tina. Kurt had publicly refused to take sides, which Mike thought was pretty damn cool and mature and stuff, and yet he had still managed to remain close to both Tina and Artie. But then Kurt was so obviously some kind of super gay ninja who was whiter than the whitest white boy, but still kind of like Shaft, in that he was a total BAMF. It was just how Kurt Hummel rolled.
"You have some competition," Wes whispered to Blaine, who frowned.
"Ridiculous. Kurt and I are not dating," he insisted.
"So Kurt's said," David agreed, "numerous times. I did wonder if he was just protesting too much, but now I think it's because you haven't had the guts to declare your interest." He sighed. "I'm disappointed."
"We're just friends," Blaine said weakly.
"Do you want to be more?" Wes demanded. "Because if you do, you had better say something to that effect, Blaine. It's more than obvious that Blondie – and I use that term loosely – is interested in your boy. Kurt might be safer at Dalton, but he's just as lonely. He's ripe for the picking. And as straight as I am, even I would be hard-pressed to say that Sam guy is anything other than hot."
"He's dating Quinn," Blaine hissed.
David rolled his eyes. "Oh. Quinn." He rolled his eyes. "You mean the second-in-command of Kurt's harem? How do you know she isn't Sam's beard? Newsflash: you don't." He shook his head. "Why don't you take a good look at her, Blaine, because it's obvious she's not scolding her alleged boyfriend for flirting with Kurt."
Mouth hanging open, Blaine turned to look at Quinn, who, if anything, was consoling Sam, who appeared as if he was about to flee from the room.
"I can't believe this," he murmured.
"Believe what?" Wes chirped. "That there might be other guys interested in Kurt? He's a good looking kid, Blaine. Just because he was the only out dude at this school doesn't mean he was the only gay one."
Blaine glowered. Fucking Karofsky. He wanted to roast that great oaf slowly over an open pit.
"For real," David said. "That Puck guy certainly had no problem feeling Kurt up."
Blaine waved a hand dismissively. "Their relationship is peculiar, but it's not sexual. If anything, I believe Puck is trying to push Kurt just to see how far he can get before Kurt slaps him."
The other two boys sniggered.
Blaine was lost in thought. Sam. Really? He felt…threatened. He didn't care for that at all.
He had taken things so slowly with Kurt because he didn't want to overwhelm the boy, or scare him like Sam had obviously just done. But maybe Sam had the right idea, forcing the issue. Kurt seemed oblivious to the subtle flirting Blaine had been endeavoring to deliver, probably because no one had ever before flirted with Kurt.
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
How was Kurt to know of his interest if he was completely unfamiliar with being courted? Blaine had thought he was being a proper gentleman, the suitor that Kurt deserved and desired, but what if that wasn't the case? What if he had just assumed that was what Kurt had wanted? Granted, Kurt was a romantic at heart, but he was also very blunt and said whatever was on his mind. Blaine loved those qualities. Still, he was certain that Kurt kept a great deal to himself, probably because he had always been under a microscope.
So the question was how to determine what Kurt wanted.
Well, his subconscious drawled, you could always just ask him, you dumbass.
Blaine winced. True, there was that option. He just wasn't a forward person, and he was frankly scared that he would be rejected. Kurt was very affectionate with those who would allow it. One only had to witness his interactions with his girls. And Kurt was loving with him, yes, but he didn't know if that behavior was fueled by a romantic interest or merely a friendly one.
Not that there was anything wrong with or lacking in just being Kurt's friend. But if he made a bid to change their relationship to that of boyfriends and Kurt wasn't interested? He'd be devastated. What if Kurt would be too uncomfortable to remain friends with him? The thought terrified him. He'd rather love Kurt in silence and suffer for it than lose him completely.
Of course, that was basically what Kurt had done with Finn, and that hadn't worked out too well. Except that they were now brothers, which was just too weird to contemplate. Not to mention that Finn was a doofus and a constant cockblock. Now that they were officially related, Finn couldn't get enough of Kurt and called him all the time. All the time. And then there were the surprise visits, with Finn just popping up at Dalton to sob into Kurt's arms about the latest travails of his love life or the confusing landmines related to anything involving academics.
Because, apparently, a despairing Finn absolutely required Kurt Cuddles in order to function.
Blaine suppressed a snort. Finn was definitely strange, and his interest in Kurt was confusing. He knew how Finn had reacted to Kurt's crush, and he also knew how Finn had bullied Kurt into reneging on his duet with Sam. And then, of course, there was that bizarre incident in which Finn had purloined Blaine's cell number from Kurt's own phone so that he could call up Blaine and interrogate him about his intentions toward Kurt.
It almost seemed reasonable, a brother wanting to look out for and protect his sibling, and Blaine somewhat understood that despite their plethora of friends, both Finn and Kurt had been very lonely, a loneliness which was remedied when they were transformed from grudging friends to full-fledged brothers. The problem was that Finn seemed interested in protecting Kurt only when Kurt didn't need it, when Finn's possessiveness of his brother appeared threatened.
Blaine had never bought into the idea that Finn had scared Kurt away from Sam; guilt-tripped him, sure, but it took a lot to scare Kurt. Like sexual assault.
If anything, he believed Finn had tried to scare Sam away from Kurt, using gayness as a cover, when the real reason was simply because he didn't want to share Kurt with another boy. The girls were one thing, because those relationships could only go so far. But a boy, one who might love Kurt back, one who might steal away time which Finn felt should be shared between only he and his brother, was another story. Even though Finn and Kurt hadn't been brothers at the time Sam had arrived, Finn nevertheless had sensed the potential for disruption and had acted to prevent it.
Just as he had told Wes and David that Puck's interest in Kurt wasn't sexual, neither did he believe that Finn was in love with Kurt. Both Puck and Finn had a proprietary interest in Kurt, as if he in some way belonged to them and interlopers simply weren't welcome. Blaine was an interloper; Sam no longer was. If Sam went after Kurt, there was absolutely no doubt with whom Puck and Finn would side, and David and Wes weren't close enough to Kurt to be effective as Blaine's champions.
He looked over at Sam, who was still upset, and then he looked at Quinn, who was smirking back at him with knowing eyes.
Well, if that's how she wanted it. He wasn't about to roll over and play dead for some bottle blond himbo and his hag.
Game on, bitch.