It's after the party is over, and the people disperse, that Sam is left alone with Kurt to clean up the mess. Except Kurt looks a little tipsy and Sam is exhausted, and so they sprawl out on the living room floor and watch the ceiling fan spin.

"Did you know I used to be on the football team?"

Like a charm, Sam's head snaps up. A moment of disbelief flits through his eyes, then he smiles, just a little. "Isn't, uh — you're too small."

Kurt props up on his elbows. "I'm offended." He lifts his chin. "I can do anything a much larger person can do."

"I thought you were a Cheerio."

Kurt makes a face. "Ooh, long time ago there," he sighs. "Quit when Mercedes did."

Sam nods, as if this makes sense, but it doesn't, and he doesn't ask. "You're everywhere." He blinks lazily at the ceiling texture. "Football, cheerleading, glee. Now you're at some preppy school —"

"It's not that preppy —"

"It really is."

A subject Kurt doesn't breach with anyone is that he misses McKinley but that's silly, silly to even bring it up, so he doesn't.

"Is Karofsky still giving you trouble?" It's an easy cop-out, a way to change the subject in his most subtle way. "I mean, after the fight and all…"

Sam sits up. "He doesn't bother me anymore." There's still a hint of a bruise on his cheek, but he pretends it isn't there. "He doesn't bother any of us." A quick pause, then, a hitch of breath, "He wouldn't bother you, then, if you —"

"I like Dalton."

Sam smiles. "No one likes Dalton."

Kurt doesn't ask how he knows because Sam seems to know too much about Dalton. "Okay, fine, so tell me what's waiting for me at McKinley that I can't get at Dalton?"

It's a whispered dare. Kurt demands to hear it.

Sam shrugs indifferently. "Glee club, for one." That's an easy one. Not enough, but almost.

Kurt shrugs right back, another challenge. "I have the Warblers."

Somewhere between the beginning of the conversation and now, their bodies inched oh-so-subtly towards each other, and Kurt can clearly see the remaining bruise now. He sighs. "Karofsky got you good."

Sam blinks. "He got you worse."

This doesn't happen to Kurt. Kurt doesn't kiss straight guys. Kurt hasn't kissed any guy. Just — that one time — it can't, won't, happen again. That's why he can't go back. But Sam doesn't know that. No one does.

So he kisses Sam. It's a bit like left and right, kissing him, because Kurt chooses right, and Sam is already going left.

But Sam kisses back, and Kurt wonders, stupidly, if maybe he was going right all along.