Kurt Hummel did not believe in God. He believed in facts, in science, in love, but he did not believe that there was one being above all, dictating all that has and would happen.

But, if God did exist, He had one fucked up sense of humor.

The Meeting (sort of)

Kurt was measuring out his sodium bicarbonate when a hand on his shoulder startled him. He maintains it was a graceful sort of startling and not a girlish-shriek-and-send-the-bicarbonate-flying-into-his-eyes kind of startling.

"Ow! Ow, ow, ow."

"That, Mr. Hummel, is exactly why wearing goggles is a requirement in this class. The eye-wash station is right behind you. Maybe your new lab partner will be kind enough to assist you."

Kurt really loved how hands-on his highschool chemistry teacher was. It wasn't enough that the teachers in this pathetic excuse for an educational center consistently missed (ignored/maliciously excused) vicious acting of bullying in the hallways. They had to shirk their duties in classrooms as well. The teachers of William McKinley High School, in Kurt's humble opinion, were useless.

Wait, lab partner?

"Dude, let me help you." Kurt knew that voice. It was a miracle that he didn't smell the peroxide wafting from the bleached blonde locks he currently couldn't see.


"Watch out for that beaker!" Kurt jumped as hands wrapped around his elbow and waist and guided him toward the eyewash station. "Yeah, I needed to switch up my schedule for football and Mr. Collins said that you needed a lab partner." Kurt tried to open his eyes to look at the jock's face to assess his feelings about the situation, but his vision was clouded by the tears streaming down his face.

"Oh crap, shouldn't we be going to the hospital or something? Is this stuff toxic?" Kurt scoffed at the boy's panicked tone.

"It's baking soda. It's like getting seawater in your eyes, annoying and painful. Not dangerous." He chose not to mention that sodium bicarbonate was slightly basic and therefore burning a layer of his cornea right now.

"Here, let me." Kurt made a small noise of protest as Sam's (massive) hand reached to the back of his neck and shoved his face down into the stream of water from the newly activated eye-wash station.

"Do I need to rub it out?" Kurt was cut off from making a masturbation joke as Sam basically poked both his eyes out with his thumbs.

"OW! Stop, stop, stop!" Kurt slapped away Sam's hands and blinked back the tears produced by his battered eyes.

"Sorry! I just wanted to—"

"Exorcise the gay out of me?"

"No! Dude, I just—" Kurt finally cleared enough tears from his eyes to be able to focus on the boy. Who was looking like Kurt shot his puppy in the head right in front of him.

"Sorry, that was out of line. I forget that no one gets my rather eccentric sense of humor." Kurt's somewhat-apology practically transformed the blonde's face, whose smile nearly blinded Kurt's still sensitive retina.

Sam grinned, "I'm not good with advice. May I interest you in a sarcastic comment?"

Kurt's eye widened as he recognized the reference, "You watch Friends?"

"Of course. And Chandler is the best! Now I know who you reminded me of. You have the same….dryness."

"Why, thank you, Samuel." Kurt was flattered, "Want to finish the experiment and discuss this quality more?"

"Sure thing, dude. By the way, your eyes are the sickest shade of green." And with that, he brushed past the shell-shocked countertenor.

The Beginning

Sam Evans loved the weekend. It wasn't the most unusual sentiment. Everybody loved the weekend, but Sam's reasoning isn't as mainstream. Sam worked on Saturday and Sunday and absolutely adored his job. What other teenager can say that?

This particular Sunday had him in his favorite aisle of the store he works at, the lumber section. Yes, Sam Evans worked at the Home Depot. He can help you do it yourself. Potential Viagra jokes aside, he made his way to the 4x4 and arranged the wood in an organized manner.

Only to have someone interrupt with a question, "Excuse me? I'm looking for a—Sam?"

Sam knew that voice. Hell, anyone who took a second to listen to it would never forget, "Kurt? What are you doing here?"

Kurt, who was clad in loose blue jeans and a plain white tee, folded his arms over his chest defensively, "Home re-modeling project. And judging by the apron, I'd say you work here. Nice choice. Orange really is your color. It goes well with the fluorescence of your hair color of choice "

Sam's face flushed with embarrassment, "For the last time, I don't dye my ha—"

"Kurt? Did you find it yet? We don't have all day." The two boys turned toward the source of the voice. Sam watched as a burly man of about forty walked toward them in a plaid overshirt and baseball cap. Who was this guy? Hired help?

"Dad, I was just asking if they had any more brands in stock. I don't want a Dewalt. They're clunky and not as powerful as a Rigid."

Sam didn't know what induced the black spots in front of his eyes more: the fact that this trucker was the father of the gayest kid in Ohio or that said kid knew anything about power tools.

The older man smiled at his son, "Dewalts are classic, Kurt. I've used them for twenty years."

His son placed his hands on his waist, defiantly stating, "The Beatles are a classic, Dad. Disney is a classic. Dewalts are outdated, like you." Sam stared in shock as the shorter boy smirked at his father. His mother would kill him for a joke like that.

Which is why he was shocked when the man laughed with delight and pulled his son in for a half hug, "Alright, son, as long as it's not a Ryobi."

Kurt winced as his dad messed up his hair, "Please, Dad, I'm not a moron. Ryobis might as well be children's toys."

"We have Rigids in the back." Sam was surprised at the sound of his own voice, but his job training took over his instinct to shut up and watch the spectacle in front of him. "Would you like a 40 volt or 60 volt?"

Kurt looked at him in surprise. He clearly forgot that Sam was there, but, as Sam seen him do in the four times after being slushied, he shook off the surprise and supported a haughty look, "Obviously 60 volts. I'm going to be screwing through 4x4, after all."

Sam nodded, obviously. Nothing was more annoying than having to wait for your battery to recharge after only 30 minutes of straight drilling. He voiced this agreement out loud. Kurt's face lost its guarded look and took on an excited one.

"Right? It sucks! Once, Dad and I were making a swing set and it took three days because the stupid drill's battery couldn't handle it."

His dad smirked, "Well, if you didn't waste the battery running around the backyard, pretending it was a gun and you were James Bond, it might have taken only two days."

Kurt colored, "No comment."

Sam laughed and started to walk to the storage center, trailed by the Hummel men, "So what project are you doing this time? Dance studio?"

Kurt's dad laughed while Kurt blushed, "No! Outdoor cooking space. I know summer just finished, but we've always wanted one and he—" he pointed to his father, "—needs a distraction because the doctor says he can't go back to work for another couple of weeks."

Sam nodded, "Sounds pretty tight, Kurt."

"I'm excited. Now if this one," he motioned to his dad again, "would let me buy my own chopsaw, I'd be set."

"Kurt, it's not going to happen. You can't use a saw unsupervised and if you had your own, we both know you'd break that rule."

"Dad, do you have any idea of how cool it would be for me to have my own chopsaw. It would be almost as awesome as my new Alexander McQueen sweater."

There was the Kurt Hummel he (barely) knew. Thank God. He was starting to wonder if all the sawdust was getting to him.

"If I get you a new saw, will you stop wearing sweaters that end at the knee?"


And that's how Sam Evans managed to sell a drill and chopsaw to Kurt Hummel and his dad on a fine Sunday afternoon in September.

Sam Evans and Kurt Hummel began their epic friendship, however, when Sam showed up unexpectedly to the Hummel house with toolbox in one hand and hastily drawn plans for an outdoor kitchen in the other. After Kurt collected his jaw from the doorstep, he let him in. Fifty-six hours of labor, two broken fingers, and a lot of laughter later, Sam and Kurt were well on their way to a bromance that would shake Lima, Ohio to its core.

The Middle

Kurt and Sam were in chemistry lab, at their bench. It was week four of their lab partnership and Kurt was currently trying to deter Sam from his quest to roast marshmallows over their Bunsen burner.

"Do you have any idea of how many chemicals are caked into the opening, where the flame comes and burns all said chemicals to the gooey deliciousness that is your marshmallow. And we're supposed to be burning magnesium and observing the flame discharge."

"First of all, our marshmallows. Second of all, that takes, what, fifty seconds?"

Kurt snorted, "Is that what you said when you put the peroxide in your hair?"

Sam groaned, "I don't dye my hair!"

"Sure you don't and I'm into Rachel Berry's bre—" He was cut off by the entrance of McKinley High's very own teenage delinquent.

"Hey, Mr. Collins, this came in for you in the office." Noah Puckerman delivering mail?

Apparently Mr. Collins questioned it too, "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, Mr. Puckerman?"

Puck grinned in what Kurt knew he thought was a disarming manner, "Penance. Doing my time in the mailroom." And, with a head nod at Kurt and Sam, he left the room.

Kurt's face was taken over by a ridiculously sappy grin, he knew it. What he didn't know was how much time had passed while he was off in LaLa land, before he snapped out of it courtesy of one Sam Evans.

"Dude? Dude?" Sam was waving his hand in front of Kurt's face, "Are you there?"

"Of course I'm here and don't call me dude. What is that ridiculous smile for?"

Sam's face was in fact stretched into a smug smile. "Kurt has a crush," he sang.

Kurt blanched, "I do not!"

"Yes you do," he wasn't letting up on the singing, "You like Puck!"

Kurt clapped a hand over Sam's mouth, "Shut. Up. Do you want me dead?" Sam shook his head, Kurt's hand still attached to his mouth. "Then lay off the 'crush' thing. Noah Puckerman wouldn't take too kindly to a gay boy lusting after his rippling pectorals."

Sam nodded and it was only then that Kurt removed his hand. Sam licked his lips, "Do you want to come over and read comics with me tomorrow?"

Kurt's eyes were huge, "Uh, sure?"

Interlude Numero Uno: Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar

Kurt didn't know what to expect when he entered the Evans abode the next day. The house was beautiful, an old woodframe that came with an adjoining barn. Kurt admired the taste of the interior designer as he took off his shoes in the front hall.

"Come on, my room is upstairs. The 'rents are out and my little sister is at a sleepover. It's just us for now." Kurt took in a deep breath. That was what he was afraid of.

See, Kurt Hummel did not know what to expect from this…gathering. Sam was the first guy Kurt became friends with out of the context of a group of girls. Sam and Kurt were actual friends, not Glee buddies (Artie) or dance aficionados (Mike) or somewhat-brothers (Finn). Actual friends. Kurt could count on one hand the number of those he had and he seriously doubted this afternoon was going to anything like how one would go with Mercedes.

For one, him and Mercedes don't watch porn together.

Kurt shook his head as he followed Sam up the stairs and into a pleasantly decorated room, How did I get myself into this mess?

"Feel free to hop on the bed. Plenty of room for the both of us. I'm just going to grab the stuff." As Kurt gingerly sat on the made bed, Sam went into his closet. He emerged with a large cardboard box and started sifting through it.

"So, what are you interested in?" Kurt had no idea, but he didn't think that Sam would have anything that was relevant to Kurt's interests.

"No idea, really. You choose." Sam grinned, "Okay!"

Kurt took in the room as Sam searched through his box. The walls were a light blue and the floor was covered in a matching carpet. Sam's desk was a mess, but a confined one. His shelves were taken up by action figures of all kinds and the size of his DVD collection was almost frightening.

"Here you go. I think this is right up your ally." Kurt gingerly accepted the magazine handed to him.

Looking at the cover, his jaw dropped, "This is a comic book!" Sam gave him an incredulous stare.

"I know. That's why you came over. To read comics."

"I thought 'reading comics' was a guy code for watching porn," Kurt blurted out.

Sam cracked up and fell over from his position on the foot of the bed, "Porn! That's hilarious! I would never invite anyone to watch porn with me."

Kurt crossed his arms and pouted, "Well, how the heck was I supposed to know? You're the first guy friend I've ever had."

That shut Sam up. "Really?" At Kurt's nod, Sam whistled, "Damn. I feel special now."

Kurt sniffed, "You should."

"Don't worry, I do." Sam grinned, "So do you want to read that comic or should I find some Pay-Per-View?" Kurt hit him with his pillow and picked up the comic book.

Three hours later, Kurt could say that he understood a little more of the Batman mythos. He'd seen the Christian Bale movies, sure, but the novel he'd just read blew those plotlines out of the water. He was about to voice his opinion out loud when Sam spoke, "I think you should go for Puck."

Kurt stiffened, "I thought I told you to let it go."

Sam threw away the comic he'd been reading and sat up from his reclined position on the bed, "You should know this about me now, Kurt: I never let things go. Which is why I'll always regret not singing with you—" Kurt opened his mouth to argue, "—let me finish. I should have stuck with you, no matter what anyone said. You were pretty damn fantastic on your own, though." Kurt smiled bashfully. "And that is also why I have made it my mission to get you a guy."

Kurt snorted, "What?"

"I got Quinn because of that competition and I think you should get someone, too."

"That makes no sense."

Sam waved him off, "Whatever. Listen, if you like Puck, you should go for it."

"What part of straight do you not understand? Been there, done that, got my heart broken. Seems I can't learn not to fall for straight guys, but I can avoid the hurt caused by going after it."

Sam wasn't backing down, "Puck isn't as straight as you think he is." Kurt's head whipped up to stare at Sam in shock, "That's right. Kurt, you're not in the locker room, you don't hear the stories. Puck is definitely flexible and you should take advantage."

Kurt tried to clear his now foggy head. He'd stopped hearing clearly after 'locker room', "Are you sure?"

"Yes. And, luckily for you, I have an awesome plan for getting Puck."

That was the first time the plan was mentioned. It wouldn't be the last. Neither would the comic book reading. Kurt Hummel was in for a ride.

Step One: Show an interest in his interests

"I fail to see how going out with Finn, Puck, Mike, and you to a diner is going to get me anywhere but Acne City."

Sam sighed, "Kurt, one thing that you have to know about jocks is that they love themselves. Like, Narcissus? He was probably a quarterback. They love themselves and will like anyone who likes them, too."

"And the diner comes in because?"

"You need to show him that you are making an effort." At Kurt's protest, he hastened to explain, "Look, you need to work harder than a girl because until you need to make it painfully obvious to Puckerman that you want to be his you know rather than just a friend."

"Boyfriend. The word is boyfriend."

Sam stopped abruptly in his walk down the hallway, leading Kurt to walk into his back, "Evans, watch where you're going!"

Sam turned to the annoyed fashionista, "Wait, you wanted more than a hookup?"

Kurt's jaw dropped and he squawked in indignation, "Of course I want more than a hookup! What do you think I am, some floozy?"

"Dude, I was just kidding." Kurt released a sigh of relief. "But no worries. I forget that no one gets my rather eccentric sense of humor," he said with a cheeky grin, directly echoing Kurt in their first lab class together.

"Ha ha, you're hilarious."

"I try. Also, floozy?"

"Shut up."

Later that afternoon found Kurt stuffed in a booth with the jocks of the Glee club, Artie excluded. To their credit, they didn't bat an eyelash at Kurt's sudden presence in their now weekly meeting. After they ordered (and the rest got over their shock at Kurt ordering a cheeseburger, "What? My dad needs to eat healthy stuff because of his heart and I really, really need something greasy."), they settled into a comfortable conversation about Glee.

"Dude, did you see the way Finnessa here wiped out? I thought Berry was a goner!" The rest of the table burst into rambunctious laughter at Puck's dig, remembering the noise Rachel emitted as Finn fell on her.

Finn's face was red, but he took the teasing good-naturedly, "Whatever Puck, at least I didn't drop my girl. How's your cheek by the way?"

Puck winced in memory of the epic slap Mercedes bestowed on him when he let her fall, "Fuck man, that girl has an arm. But I deserved it. Do you think she'll still be mad tomorrow?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, "It didn't help anything when Santana made that crack about her weight." He was shocked when Puck's eyes narrowed.

"What crack?"

Kurt shared a bewildered look with the other occupants of the table. Mike spoke, "She just said some shit about how Mercedes needed to stop gaining weight if the strongest guy in the club couldn't support her anymore." Kurt scowled, Santana was really a bitch when it counted, it seemed.

Kurt and Sam shared a side-glance when Puck slammed his hand on the table, "What the fuck? I didn't hear that!"

"What the hell did you think was happening when Quinn and Kurt tried to claw off her face?" Sam fist bumped Kurt, "Righteous, dude."

"Chang, when are Hummel and Quinn not trying to claw off Satan's face?"

Finn nodded in agreement, "He has a point."

Puck ran a hand through his mohawk, "Shit, man. I have to do something for Aretha tomorrow. I was staring at Berry's ass and forgot we had a lift. That's why I dropped her!"

Kurt will never understand heterosexual men, he decided; as he watched Finn shove Puck off the booth and proceed to play wrestle him on the ground in the middle of the diner.

"Guys, the food's here." The waitress didn't seem to mind the display of adolescent idiocy as she simply stepped over the two boys and place their orders on the table. At the mention of food, Finn and Puck raced bath to their seats and immediately started shoveling food in their mouths. Kurt wrinkled his nose in disgust before taking a bite of his cheeseburger.

Sam nudged him with his elbow and threw his head in Puck's direction. Oh right, the plan. Kurt cleared his throat, "Um, Puck I could help you apologize to Mercedes, you know, if you want."

Puck actually looked excited, "Really, dude? 'Cuz that would be baller." Kurt flushed a little and nodded.

"Yeah, sure. I think you should—" He was interrupted when Sam took a sip of his chocolate milkshake.

"Oh my God, this is awesome!" Kurt turned to look into Sam's ecstatic face.

"Yeah, dude, that's why we all got them. Milkshakes here are the bomb." Mike accented his point by taking a long pull of his own milkshake.

"Kurt, you didn't get one."

Kurt shrugged at Sam's observation, "I guess I just forgot how good they were."

Sam reached over Kurt's plate to grab a straw from the dispenser and stuck it into his milkshake, "Let's share. It's really good."

Kurt blinked slowly, "Sure." Both Sam and Kurt missed the looks that passed between the other guys, too busy in drinking their milkshake together.

Step Two: Be confident, be alluring, be sexy.

Kurt and Sam were in lab again. It was two weeks since the diner and Sam was having a great time mixing solutions together and producing super-saturated crystals. Kurt rolled his eyes as Sam perfected his villain laugh.


"Samuel, one day you are going to lose your hair and your body is going to lose its sculpted perfection and then you'll have to rely on your personality to find friends and lovers." He paused, "You're going to die alone."

"Aw, shucks, thanks buddy!" Kurt laughed at Sam's tone. "Okay, back to the plan. I don't know where the diner step went wrong, but no worries. We can still do this!"

Kurt rolled his eyes, "And how do you suggest we do that?"

Sam smirked, "I was hoping you were going to ask that. Listen, this Sunday is Halloween, right?" At Kurt's nod, he continued, "But everyone is going to dress up in school on Friday?" Kurt nodded again.

"What? Should I dress up in a maid's outfit or something?" Sam blanched.

"No, no, no. It'll do you no good if you get killed before Puck even sees it. No, this costume is perfect. It's tight and flattering, with the added bonus of being cool, so no jocks will mess with you."

Which is how Kurt found himself donning a mask and cape that Friday. He was hitting his head on his locker repeatedly when Mercedes came up beside him, looking beautiful in her gypsy costume.

"Robin, Boy Wonder? Seriously?" Kurt groaned in response.

"It was Sam's idea. I'm just glad he chose Tim Drake's costume over the panties and pixie boots that was the original Robin." Mercedes gave him her famous eyebrows.

"Who are you?"

Kurt sighed, "I don't know anymore."

"On the plus side, your ass and—um, package—look amazing." Kurt flushed as Mercedes cackled. He smacked her shoulder lightly.

"Shut up, you wench."

"Hey, gypsy here!"

"Oh, excuse me."

Mercedes looked over Kurt's shoulder at a sight behind him, "Oh, I should have known."

Kurt spun around to see Sam sauntering over to them. The jock was wearing a Batman suit, with the cowl down so that Kurt could see his ridiculous hair, "What's up, Boy Wonder, Madame?" He bowed to Mercedes and turned to fist bump Kurt.

Kurt shook his head, "How did I let you coerce me into doing this?"

Sam grinned, "This is awesome. Your body is perfect for the Robin suit and my abs make this costume fantastic. We're the best Batman and Robin ever."

Mercedes laughed, "Yeah, much better than Karofsky and Azimio's costumes."

Kurt and Sam whirled around to her and, at their expressions, she went on to explain, "They went as Batman and Robin, too. But, damn, Azimio is too hefty for that suit. They look awful."

The two boys shared an excited look. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Kurt asked of his partner in crime-fighting.

Wordlessly, Sam reached back and placed the cowl over his head. They nodded at each other; each gave Mercedes a kiss on the cheek before running down the hallway, capes flying behind them. Mercedes admired their physiques in the tights as they ran. She watched as they turned the corner and was nearly on the floor laughing when she heard the sound of her best friend's shocked voice.

"Holy fat rolls, Batman!"

Interlude Numero Dos: Confessions

It was November and snow was falling softly outside of Sam's window. Kurt was on the bed, head on Sam's chest. He couldn't believe how easy it was for him to get close to the other boy.

"Before you, no guy ever touched me. Well, no guy our age. My dad and the guys at the garage don't count."

Sam was playing with Kurt's hair, "Why didn't anyone touch you? Did you threaten to beat them with a tire iron for ruining your clothes or skin or hair?"

Kurt snorted. "You know me so well. No, it's because they're afraid of 'catching the gay'," he sighed.

"That's stupid. I can't believe people are actually that dumb. At my old school, guys used to pile on each other all the time. Sleepovers, movie-watching dates, lying in the grass. No one cared about that stuff."

"Probably because they were comfortable with their sexuality. Half the guys in McKinley wouldn't high five me because they would be afraid of looking gay, nevertheless playing with my hair like you're doing right now."

Sam smirked, "Whatever, their loss." Kurt shook his head. Sam was unbelievable sometimes.

They laid in the comfortable silence for a little longer, "Hey, Kurt?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"I dyed my hair before I got here."

"You don't say?"

Step Three: Take advantage of mutual interests

Kurt paced his room furiously, hands tightly wound in his normally immaculate hair, "Why did I agree to this? I should be enjoying this night. Do you have any idea of how long I've been waiting for this, Samuel Evans? Instead of relaxing and looking forward to it, I'm freaking out about what to wear and how I should do my hair and—"

"Wait, how is that different than every other day?"

Kurt turned to the figure making a temporary home out of his bed, "You! Shut up! You got me into this mess. You've ruined Harry Potter for me. Harry Potter! The one dorky thing that I am willing to admit I am obsessed with and that is a million times more awesome than Star Wars or that stupid excuse for movie that was basically Pocahontas in space—"

"Hey, hey, hey! Let's not get too hurtful here. Harry Potter is awesome and stuff but Avatar—"

Sam was cut off as Kurt's hand clamped over his mouth. Kurt closed his eyes and counted to ten in his head. After calming himself down, he opened his eyes and glared into Sam's widened ones, "What does Rule #43 of the Hummel-Evans Bro Code state?"

Sam started to speak before realizing the futility of trying to talk into Kurt's hand. The slighter teen removed his hand and motioned for the blonde to continue. Sam sighed, "The Hollywood Press' word is law."

Kurt raised his eyebrow, "And?"

"And because Avatar lost, it's not as awesome as I say it is. But Kurt—"

"Nope. Not one word. Help me draw the scar please."

Sam sighed heavily as he got off the bed and went to get a red marker from Kurt's desk. Kurt took a seat at his vanity and Sam kneeled over to draw the familiar lightning-shaped scar, "Why are you going as Harry again?"

"Because Artie can't make it and every group of Harry Potter fans need a Boy-Who-Lived, so I'm stepping up and donning the specs." He accented his words by placing the aforementioned glasses on his face and grinning up at Sam's still pouting one.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Harry Potter didn't even get nominated for an Oscar."

"When Avatar becomes the largest worldwide phenomenon of the century, you get to talk. Until then, shut it Evans."

"And I am going as Draco because…" Sam trailed off as Kurt got up and helped him tie the green tie around his neck.

"Because you're the moron who dyed his hair platinum blonde. It practically screams 'Homosexual Head'!"

Sam blinked, "What?"

Kurt shrugged as his packed his bag. Wand? Check. iPod? Check. Cell phone? Check. Red Vines? Double Check. God, the kid that played Harry was super cute. "When I saw the first movie and Draco had his hair slicked back in that ridiculous hairstyle, the name popped in my head and just stuck."

Sam shook his head, "Wait, isn't that offensive?"

"Probably, but I'm gay. I can say these things with minimal guilt. Let me have this, Samuel."

Sam snorted, "Fine, whatever, can we go back to the plan now?"

Kurt let out a noise of despair before falling back on the bed, arms splayed Crucifixion style, "Why did you remind me? I was actually having a good five minutes!"

Sam sat on the bed, close to Kurt's head, "Do you want Puck?"

"Yes," Kurt whined.

"Do you want him to be your boyfriend?"


"Do you want to have hot, sweaty, kinky, amazing gay sex with him?"

Kurt laughed, loud and free, "Yes!"

"Then let's do this!"

The plan was relatively simple. All Kurt had to do was make sure he was sitting next to Puck and, during the scary parts, cling to him unashamedly. The next part of Sam's "brilliant idea" involved Kurt pretending to be embarrassed at how much of a "wimp" he was and not-so-subtlety admire Puck's "physique" (Kurt sighed, "Translation: you want me to feel up his "guns". What is it with men and their obsession with their own strength?").

Yes, the plan was relatively simple. Its execution, however, was obstructed by its creator, ironically enough. As Harry and Hermione entered the house of Bathilda Bagshot, Kurt prepared himself. Unfortunately, while Kurt was pretending to be a wimp, Sam was one.

"What are you doing?" Kurt hissed in Sam's ear as the jock buried his head in Kurt's torso.

"I know what's going to happen and that snake scared the crap out of me the first time and I don't want to look and—" Sam was actually shaking in the circle of Kurt's arms.

Kurt shook his head with a fond smile on his face and ran a hand through Sam's surprisingly soft locks, "You're such a loser, Sam Evans."

"I'm your loser."

And as the entirety of the theater jumped at the sight of Nagini leaping out of the floorboards, Kurt couldn't help but think that it was true.

Interlude Numero Tres: The futility of resistance

"Why are you friends with me?"

Sam did not look up from the stack of Superman comics he'd been sifted through, "What, bro?"

"Sam, I'm not your bro." Kurt sighed and mumbled, "That's the problem."

"Hey, I found a first edition Hush #1!"

"Sam!" The boy in question finally looked up at the sound of Kurt's tone.

"What's wrong?" Kurt wouldn't look him in the eye. He played with the hem of his scarf, leading Sam to grab his hands and force the countertenor to raise his gaze.

"It's just that I realized that we hang out more than I do with Mercedes and you do with Quinn and you don't like fashion and I tolerate men in tights fighting crimes and I really hate Avatar and that seems to be your only reason for living and—"

"Woah! Dude, what is this? 'Break-Sam's-heart-by-getting-his-best-friend-to-say-sacreligous-things Day?'"

Kurt wrenched his hands from Sam's grip and buried his face in them, letting out a noise of what could only be described as heartbroken, "Why do you have to be so amazing, Samuel?"

The boy in question was so beyond confused, "What do you mean? Did I do something wrong? You sound like you're about to—" a sharp intake of breath, "—are you breaking up with me?"

Kurt snorted and looked up at the grinning blonde through red-rimmed eyes. He swiped at his face before punching Sam in the shoulder, "Shut up, you dork."

"Uh, Kurt, we're in a comic book store at nine o'clock on a Friday night. I'd say that ship has sailed."

A giggle escaped Kurt's mouth and before he even knew it, he was doubled over laughing. Sam just stared and stared and stared. Five minutes later, when Kurt could finally stand up straight and was wiping tears of laughter out of his eyes, Sam dared to speak, "You okay, dude? Why did you ask me why we're friends?"

Kurt shook his head, smile completely overtaking his face, "I'm fine. I answered my own question. We're friends because no one else will ever understand you."

Ignoring Sam's confused face, Kurt strode right past him and asked, "Want to get some frozen yogurt? My treat."

Sam had no choice but to follow.

Step Four: When all else fails, revert to the basics

Kurt and Sam lay on Kurt's expansive bed, staring at the cracks in Kurt's ceiling. It was become a regular occurrence. After all, laying on a bed in despair is what failures did, right?

"Sam, it's December 20th."

"I know."

"We started this plan in September."

"I know."

"You said that it would quote, 'Take a month, max.'"

"I know."

"It's been four months and I am nowhere closer to dating Noah Puckerman than I was at the beginning of the year."

"I know."

"Okay, just stating the obvious." Kurt's tone reflected no feeling. No anger, disappointment, sadness, nothing. It just was.

Sam felt like the worst friend ever.

"Come on, dude, we can't give up!"

Kurt rolled over in his bed and his answer was muffled due to the fact that he looked like he was trying to smother himself with his sheets, "Yes we can. Obama says so."

Sam sent an exasperated look at the less-than-empathetic ceiling. Of all the people to be best friends with, you had to choose the most dramatic bitch since Mary Jane Watson.

"Did Terry McGinnis give up when Shriek held the city hostage? Did Frodo give up when Gandalf died? Did Harry give up when—Hey!"

Sam jumped up off the bed and practically ran to Kurt's iPod station. He selected an upbeat Michael Buble song before rushing over to Kurt, grabbing his hand, and dragging him up.

Kurt whined, "What are you doing?"

Sam didn't answer and instead chose to grab Kurt's other hand and swing the hands together in a parody of a dance. Kurt let his head roll, hanging off his neck in a would-be-creepy-way if Sam wasn't used to it by now, "What are you do-ing?" Kurt was getting really good at the whining thing (Sam's mother always used to say that the sign of a good whiner was the ability to add more syllables into monosyllable words. Kurt was a pro).

Sam just smiled and twirled Kurt around, allowing Sam to plaster his front to Kurt's back. He continued to sway and smiled into Kurt's hair as the countertenor got into it and added his own hip flair to their ridiculous dance.

Two minutes later, as the song was trailing off, Kurt, still wrapped by Sam's arms, remarked offhandedly, "You know, when Harry and Hermione did this, it was a lot less gay."

Sam laughed, "I knew you would get it!"

Kurt turned around and returned the embrace, leaving the boys in a comfortable hug, "How can I not? First, it's a Harry Potter reference. Second, you're a dork and have been wanting to do that since we saw the movie."

"Yeah, well, at least you aren't contemplating suicide any more."

Kurt broke the embrace and turned to sit at his vanity, where he began plucking his eyebrows, "I was never contemplating suicide, Samuel."

"You had that look in your eye. The one that you had right before you set some of your MacQueen scarves on fire."

"They were ugly and I was upset."

"You were even more upset when the episode of House was over and you realized that in addition to losing an OTP, you lost three scarves that were worth more than my left arm."

"But not more than the right one."

"You've always liked that one more."

"It's true."

Sam saw what Kurt was doing. He was diverting their attention away from the problem at hand. But Sam wasn't going to let him get away with it. He had one more trick up his sleeve. Watching from mirror, Kurt saw Sam cross the room and pick up his iPod from the speakers. Sam then went to Kurt, turned him away from the vanity and shoved the iPod in his face. Kurt looked from the iPod to Sam's place on the floor, "That's my iPod."

"Yeah, but it's also our last chance."

Kurt snorted, "What?"

Sam sighed, "Okay, I honestly thought we could avoid this and encourage a different approach to this problem, but clearly everything has to be solved this way for people like us."

"What approach and what kind of people are we?"

"We are gleeks and the only way to solve this problem is through song."

Kurt snickered, "Really? You want me to serenade Noah 'Sex Shark' Puckerman?" He laughed until he noticed Sam's stony expression, "Seriously? You're serious? You want me to sing to Puck?"

Sam narrowed his eyes, "I've been a part of this club four months now and so far I've gotten a girlfriend, Rachel and Finn broke up and got back together, twice, your parents got married, Schue seduced the crazy love of his life and subsequently lost the love of his life, and Mercedes got you, very-much-non-believing you, to her church. All of this was achieved through song. Knowing the people involved, it was the only way these things were going to be achieved. Now, I've accepted defeat. The way you're going to get into Puck's pants is through song."

Kurt blinked. Once. Twice. By the third slow blink, Sam was ready to slap him. Luckily, Kurt seemed to come to life and simply nodded.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, "Okay, now for the song selection. You'd have to do it tomorrow because it's the last day of school before break. That way, if it goes wrong, you'll have all winter break to research transferring to another school."

Kurt glared and snatched his iPod from the blonde's hands, "Thank you ever so much for that thought, Samuel."

"You're welcome." Sam's cheeky grin was only wiped off his face when Kurt threw a pack of moist towelettes at his head, "I was thinking about the songs and thought 'Your Song' by Elton John would be a good one."

Kurt looked up from his iPod with an unbelieving expression, "Seriously? That's way too gay."

"Teenage Dream?"

Kurt made a face of disgust, "Ugh, too cliché."

"Santa Baby?"

"Too seasonal," Kurt shook his head furiously.

"And slutty," Sam agreed, "All I Want For Christmas is You?"

Kurt's face was a picture of pissed off and incredulous, "Too gay, cliché, and seasonal! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you sure you're straight?"

Sam threw up his hands in exasperation, "What brilliant idea do you have, Princess?"

Kurt motioned for him to look over his shoulder as Kurt scrolled through his music. They said nothing for a long time, quiet as they looked through Kurt's extensive music collection. When Kurt reached the 'I's, his hand paused, one song highlighted. Kurt and Sam looked up at each other in unison.

"Perfect," they breathed.

The next day, everything was set up. Mercedes was stationed by the boom box, under strict orders to protect it against any attack by force of nature or angry Spanish teacher (they were both sure Mr. Schue was not going to appreciate Kurt's performance). Puck was place front and center and Sam, who was sitting behind him, made sure that the mohawked teen was paying attention.

Mr. Schuester was just wrapping up his end of the semester speech when Kurt tapped him on the shoulder, "Mr. Schue, if I may?"

The club as a whole sat up, interested. Even Rachel looked more interested than jealous that Kurt had the last performance of 2010.

Sam gave Kurt a thumbs-up as he announced his song. "I just wanted to thank you all for a great semester. I've prepared this song for your entertainment. This goes out to all of you, but one person in particular." Sam snickered, he wondered how everyone was going to, ehm, receive this song.

Kurt nodded to Mercedes and the familiar opening to a certain Divinyls hit blasted out of the speakers. Sam had to hold in laughter as he saw everyone's eyes widen. Mr. Schue looked like he was going to have a stroke, but his surprise was welcome, as he looked like he wasn't going anywhere soon.

Kurt forced himself not to look at Puck as he sashayed to and fro across the floor. He would lose any nerve he had with one look into those gorgeous hazel eyes. So he chose to look straight into Sam's baby blues as he sang,

I love myself, I want you to love me

When I feel down, I want you above me

I search myself, I want you to find me

I forget myself, I want you to remind me

Okay, so it was the most obscene song choice Kurt has ever had. He was practically begging Puck, but at this point he didn't care. He wanted Noah Puckerman and he was going to get him.

I don't want anybody else

When I think about you, I touch myself

Ooh I don't want anybody else Oh no, oh no, oh no

Oh, if Kurt's father saw the way his only son was thrusting and touching himself in front of an audience, he would have a second, third, and fourth heart attack. Which made it a very, very, very good thing he was not a witness to this event.

I close my eyes, and see you before me

Think I would die, if you were to ignore me

A fool could see just how much I adore you

I get down on my knees, I do anything for you

This is when Kurt's dignity flew out the window. Sam grinned at him as Kurt sang those words, knowing exactly what was coming (he'd been the one to choreograph it, after all). Cursing the day he'd met Sam Evans, Kurt slid from his place at the piano to right in front of Puck, on his knees, ending with a thrust of his pelvis in Puck's direction.

Blushing, he lifted himself off the ground and sauntered over to the middle of the room, where he cocked his hip and sang out the last verse.

I don't want anybody else

When I think about you, I touch myself

Ooh I don't want anybody else Oh no, oh no, oh no

There was a beat and Kurt finally, finally had enough courage to look at Puck as applause rang out. Puck, who was leading the standing ovation and stuffing two fingers in his mouth, whistling lewdly. Kurt flushed happily and took an enthusiastic bow. Mercedes ran over and hugged him, "What the heck was that, Kurt? That was so sexy! Where did that come from?"

Kurt laughed it off and promised her a trip to the mall later that week for their Christmas shopping. He waved to Mike and Tina as they congratulated him and assured Brittany, Artie, and Santana that he would see them at the Glee holiday gathering. Finn high-fived him while informing him that he was going to catch a ride home with Rachel. Soon, the room was empty except for Sam and Puck, who were chatting in the corner. Kurt strode over to them and gave Sam his signal to leave.

"I'll be outside, Kurt. See you around, Puck." Kurt and Sam shared a panicked-but-excited look as the latter left the room. Kurt turned to Puck, "So, what did you think, Noah?"

Puck gave him a full body sweep with his eyes (Kurt tried so hard to prevent the blood from rushing to his face, but genetics, what can you do?) and smirked in that shark-like way of his, "That was pretty hot, Hummel. Nice job."

Kurt beamed, "Thanks, Noah! I had great inspiration."

Puck's smirk widened, "Yeah, I bet you did." Kurt's blush deepened but he held his ground.

An awkward moment passed. The silence was nearly unbearable. Kurt waited and waited, but Puck's demeanor never changed.

"So, isn't there anything you wanted to tell me?"

Puck looked a little confused, "Um, Evans is a lucky man?"

Now it was Kurt's turn to be confused, "What? What does Sam have to do with this?"

Puck's furrowed brow and perplexed face only intensified, "Evans? Your boyfriend? The one you were singing to?"

Kurt's eyes bugged out of their sockets and his breath caught in his throat.





Kurt spluttered, "My WHAT?"

Puck winced at the volume and pitch of Kurt's outburst, "What the fuck, dude? I'm pretty sure the Army would want to recruit your voice as a weapon of mass destruction. Lower the tone-age."

Kurt was choking on his own spit in a haste to get his words out, "Samuel Evans is not my boyfriend. Why the hell would you ever think that? Can't a straight guy be friends with a gay one without any pretense of sex? How can you be so closed-minded?"

Puck's face changed from one of confusion to annoyance, "Woah, hold up. I'm not the only one who thinks so. The glee club, hell, the entire school thinks you and Evans are bumping uglies."

Kurt laughed nervously, "There's no way. Sam and Quinn are dating."

Puck snorted. He started laughing and only stopped when he saw Kurt's no-nonsense bitchface, "Uh, dude, Quinn and Aretha are together now. Everyone knows that. It was on Jewfro's blog." Kurt was starting to feel lightheaded.

"I-I need to sit down."

"Woah! Here, dude, let me help you," Kurt's faintness was not helped by the fact that Puck swooped him up and placed him on the piano. In fact, Kurt was the closest to swooning that he ever was, "You really didn't know?"

Kurt shook his head wordlessly. Were him and Sam so wrapped up in their plan and friendship that they completely missed the fact that his best friend and Sam's girlfriend were hooking up? So this is what co-dependence was like. After taking a second to swear to any diving being that might exist to lock Mercedes in his basement for a long-overdue bonding session, Kurt shook himself out of his reverie.

"That cannot be the only thing that lead to people thinking I was dating Sam."

Puck scoffed and started ticking off on his fingers, "You had matching costumes at Halloween, you shared a milkshake at the diner, you're always dancing together during jam sessions, you're always together—"

"You and Finn used to be together all the time!"

"Dude, we never shared a bed! Finn kept telling everyone how he'd walk into your room and you and Evans were on your bed, chilling and doing stuff."

"Friends do that!"

Puck raised his eyebrow, "Buttbuddies do that." He continued, "You were cuddling during Harry Potter—"

"He was scared! What else was he going to do?"

Puck ignored him, "And you sang the porniest of porn songs to him."

Kurt's jaw dropped, "I was NOT."

Puck snickered, "You were practically eye-fucking him."

"You moron! That song was for you!" Both of Kurt's hands flew to his mouth, Oh fuck.

"What?" To his credit, Puck didn't look disgusted, "What was that?"

Kurt closed his eyes and whispered, "That song was for you. Sam and I have been trying to get you to notice me all semester."

Kurt's eyes were still screwed shut, but he felt Puck walk into the 'v' of his legs splayed over the edge of the piano. He felt Puck's arms reaching up his torso and he felt Puck's hands in his hair. He felt Puck gently tugging on his hair and he definitely felt Puck's lips on his.

The touch of lips on lips sparked something within Kurt. His hands went to Puck's shoulders and pulled him closer, eager to get more contact. Kurt felt, rather than saw, Puck's smirk as the self-proclaimed badass pried open his mouth with his tongue. Holy shit holy shit holy shit, best kiss ever.

They broke it off when breathing became a necessity. Puck brushed his lips across Kurt's in a chaste kiss, "I'd have to be blind not to notice you, princess. Was so fucking pissed at Evans for getting there first." Kurt beamed in response.

Puck stared at Kurt with an inexplicable expression, a cross between bawdy and reverent, "Guess I got my Hanukkah wish after all."

"And what's that?" Kurt was giddy and playful.

"A lap dance. I know that song wasn't technically a strip show but—" He laughed when Kurt smacked him on the shoulder.



"Idiot jackass."

"Oblivious diva. I mean, your best friend went gay and you didn't notice."

Kurt buried his face in his hands, "Shut up! I know! I'm the worst person ever."

Puck handed him his bag, grinning, "Want to get out of here? I wanted to see that new sci-fi flick, Tron. Want to go?"

Kurt accepted his bag and jumped off the piano, "Sure!"

The two walked out of the room, hand in hand. Five feet out and they ran into Sam. The blonde's eyes went from their enclosed hands to their happy smiles. Well, Kurt's happy smile and Puck's happy leer.

"So, plan was a success?"

Kurt nodded, "Oh, yeah." The two high-fived and Puck rolled his eyes.

"Evans, move out of the way. Princess and I are going to the movies."

Sam looked at Kurt, "To see Tron?" At the countertenor's nod, Sam pouted, "We were going to see that together!"

Kurt sent him a look, trying to non-verbally communicate; This is what we've been working on for four months. Are you kidding me?

Sam seemed to get the message. Shoulders slumping, he sighed, "Yeah, I guess we can see another movie another time. Have fun, guys."

Kurt's good mood was rapidly disintegrating. Sam looked like a kicked puppy, again. Kurt did promise him that they were going to see the movie together. He turned to Puck, who shook his head in exasperation, "Yo, Evans, want to come with?"

Sam's face transformed into one of, well, glee, "That'd be awesome!" And with that, the three boys walked down the hallway, on their way to Kurt and Puck's first date. So this is what co-dependency was like. Imagine that.

Kurt Hummel did not believe in God. He believed in facts, in science, in love, but he did not believe that there was one being above all, dictating all that has and would happen.

But, if God did exist, He had one fucked up sense of humor.