A/N- Challenge from Fallen Upon: Write a Hevans where Kurt gets stuck in a closet.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee :(
"Hello? Anybody out there?" Sam jumped and turned around frantically, peering down the hallway. It seemed to be empty, yet he was sure he heard a quiet, pleading voice.
"Who's there?" The blonde called, peeking into a nearby classroom. No one was there either, It seemed like he was the only one left in the entire school, let alone the hallway.
"Sam? Sam, thank god it's you!" The high-pitched voice called out again, and this time he could tell it was from the supply closet.
"Kurt? Is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me." He sighed in relief. "Could you let me out of here?" Sam raised an eyebrow but agreed. He grasped the worn doorknob and tried to turn it, but with no luck. Brow furrowed, the blonde yanked at the knob with all his might. The door wouldn't budge an inch from it's frame.
"Kurt, I think the door needs a key. Did you try opening it from in there?"
Kurt let out a groan and Sam knew he had just rolled his eyes. "No, of course not. I would never think to do that myself! You're so smart, Sam!"
The quarterback could feel sarcasm drip from the words like venom from a snake's fangs. "Just trying to help," he mumbled.
A heavy sigh came from the dark closet. "I'm sorry, okay? Can you just go find someone with a key?"
"Yeah, hang on." The countertenor sat in silence for a few minutes. He perked up at the sound of Sam's heavy footfalls, echoing in the wide hallway. "Uh... Kurt? I don't know how to tell you this, but the janitor isn't here."
"What? And he's the only one with a key?"
"If there's a spare, the secretary doesn't know where it is. Trust me, I made sure to ask." Kurt groaned loudly, and Sam could hear him hitting his head against the door. "But I had them call the janitor! I think they said he'll be here in an hour..." Sam heard more banging, another sigh.
"Alright, thanks Sam." It was obvious that Kurt was holding back tears. "You can go now."
Sam stared at the door, wanting to be on the other side to comfort Kurt. "No. I'm staying, and you can't change my mind." He heard Kurt sniffle. "I'm here for you, okay?"
"Okay." Sam sat against the door and slid his fingers under the crack. He heard Kurt give a choked laugh, and the brunet's fingers met his in search of comfort. "Thank you." Sam had never heard Kurt sound so sincere toward him.
"No problem. So... can I ask what happened?"
Kurt laughed again, but this laugh was harsh, angry. "How much time do you have?"
"Oh, about an hour." Kurt used his free hand to wipe away a stream of silent tears. Here, in the dark, he felt like he needed to confide in someone. That someone would have to be Sam.
"I'll go from the beginning then, I guess." The countertenor began his story, starting from that ill-fated kiss that was forced on him by Karofsky. He told the blonde every event, every feeling he had experienced, every thought from then on. Sam remained quiet, listening with patience when he really just wanted to find Karofsky and kill him. "And now I'm here." Kurt took a deep breath and wiped away more salty tears. "They shoved me in here, Karofsky and Azimio. Said I should get back in the closet where 'my kind' belong."
Sam felt tears well up in his own eyes. "Kurt, I'm sorry."
"Don't be, this isn't your fault. I'm sure if you had been they you would've helped me."
"No, that's not why I'm sorry." Kurt stared at the thin band of light under the door questioningly. Sam's fingers had begun to shake. "I knew how you were being treated. How everyone saw you. And I..."
"What? You what, Sam?" Kurt couldn't stand the silence threatening to build a wall around the quarterback.
"I kept it to myself. I didn't tell anyone that I'm gay."
Kurt let out a small gasp. "I knew it! Sorry, sorry, that was uncalled for. But you and Quinn-"
"Coverup. She said she understood, and she agreed to help me." Kurt could here him crying, but it was a withdrawn sort of crying; it was as if Sam was used to holding this back.
"Oh, Sam, I-"
"I'm not done." He paused to catch his breath. "I feel even worse now. I didn't know it was this bad for you. And I hate that they're doing this, because... I really like you, Kurt. A lot."
Kurt released the breath he didn't know he was holding. He put his fingers on top of Sam's, the closest they could get to holding hands. "I like you a lot, too."
They sat in silence until the janitor finally showed up. Sam's fingers pulled away and he slid off the door, resting his back against the cold wall. The janitor was grumbling as he opened the door, but he looked guilty when he saw Kurt's tear-stained face. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, mumbling an apology as he quickly left.
The light from the hall burned Kurt's eyes as he crawled out of the closet. There was Sam, still there, and they were still face-to-face. The blond reached up to wipe a tear from Kurt's rosy cheek, leaving his hand cupped under Kurt's jaw. Trembling slightly, Sam leaned in. Their noses brushed, and he met the Kurt's lips gently. It was simple and sweet, everything a first kiss should be aside from the crying that had happened beforehand. Sam pulled away and put his forehead to Kurt's. The smaller boy's breathing hitched, and he crawled into Sam's lap. The athlete wrapped his arms around Kurt, who rested his head against Sam's chest. There they sat, moving as little as possible, not wanting their hour to end.