A/N: Hiya! I bring you some lovely Kurt/Sam goodness. It's angsty, so beware. I wanted to point out that this takes place during s3ep8, 'Hold onto Sixteen'. Seriously, take out all the unnecessary Samcedes (haters gon hate) and it was such a asdfghjkl episode, no? Plus, Sam makes some damn fine White Chocolate ;)
Title is based off the wonderful song 'Blonde on Blonde', by Nada Surf.
Bit of Blaine blashing. I love me some Blainers, but I'm a massive Kum fangirl at heart. I'd really love a review, if you've got time. Thanks!
The moment Sam Evans stepped back into McKinley high school, he did two things.
One: he self-consciously brushed his newly-cut fringe to one side.
Two: he looked for Kurt Hummel.
When he arrived in the choir room with a well-timed quip about sinking ships, his gaze was trained on the young man in the back of the room. As his friends swamped him, Sam couldn't help but feel so old in contrast.
Kurt's green-blue eyes betrayed him. He saw through Sam's cheerful demeanour, his gung-ho attitude and we're-all-in-this-together back slaps. You see, he and Sam were so similar. They'd seen the real world; they'd stared down the barrels of fear and loneliness and ducked the fired shot.
For Kurt, that was what his sexuality had brought him: an appreciation for well-toned abs and tearful moments of weakness.
For Sam, the GFC was his bedfellow.
Once upon a time, Blaine and Sam were the same. They each had the earnest, wide-eyed approachability of the boy next door. But as Blaine discovered musicals, 100% cashmere cardigans and all-boy singing groups, Sam fell into admiring men in private and learning how to cook a meal for five people on a budget of eleven dollars and fifty cents. They were like a young tree whose budding branches eventually grew upwards and separately; the same at the beginning, but each headed different ways.
Almost immediately, Kurt recognized Sam's traits in Blaine. The only difference was Blaine waved a little rainbow flag and could mouth along to Cabaret.
Sam could hardly pinpoint the moment when Kurt's absence grew too much to bear. It may have been wrong, but when he was up on the stage, with women stuffing dollar bills into his shorts and the music thumping incessantly behind him, he thought of Kurt. He thought of Kurt's creamy skin and what he must look like without all his layers of clothing.
He didn't only think about Kurt's body. He thought about his snarky comments and bitch-please comebacks, his quiet compassion and spiky exterior. He thought about his wonderful sense of humour, and what it must feel like to hold his hand and buy him coffee.
When Blaine came too close for comfort, oddly reminiscent of Karofsky's swaggering indifference, and called him cheap, Sam missed the way Kurt's face crumpled. So, he did what he was essentially trained to do and shoved Blaine-the-boyfriend with as much force as he could muster.
Sam caught Kurt's eyes briefly.
I'm sorry about Blaine, they said.
I love you, he replied.
Watching Sam onstage during the rehearsals for Sectionals, Kurt couldn't ignore the swoop of his stomach. It wasn't fair, the way Sam's hips could roll and entice feelings that Kurt hadn't felt since the first time he and Blaine made love.
It had been amazing, that first time. They held hands all the way through. The air felt trapped around them, buzzing with electricity and the smell of sex. When it came to the punch, Blaine had been the one to roll them over and loop his legs around Kurt and squeeze please.
So Kurt had fucked his boyfriend slowly that time… and every time after that.
Every time, Blaine would stretch out below him, bite his lip, scratch his back, whine in his ear:
Please Kurt Please Kurt Please Kurt, yes.
And Kurt would comply, because that was what Blaine wanted.
Once upon a time, he wanted nothing more than to please the King of Dalton. He would have given anything to see Blaine smile his you're-so-perfect smile, see his eyes light up and drop to his knees, hands shaking and jeans tugged down.
Being with Blaine was safe. It was right, because they both liked fashion, foreign films and scented candles.
Then, Kurt started to wonder what it would be like with Sam Evans. And that's when everything started to fall apart.
Kurt started to notice things about Blaine that irked him. At first, he figured it was just a part of relationships: he'd asked Tina, and she said that yeah, there were some things about Mike that drove her crazy, but she still loved him. To Kurt, that must have been it. They were simply in the ever-unfolding process called Love.
He noticed Blaine's stubborn (bordering on petulant) reactions to things he didn't particularly agree with. The way Sebastian Smythe's comments made him laugh nervously and duck his head, but make him blink in astonishment and bemusement for hours afterwards, saying stupid things like Wow, that Sebastian, huh? and Just who does he think he is, really, and then he'd be kissing Kurt's neck, hips pressed firmly against his, and though Sebastian's name was forgotten on his lips, it hovered at the forefront of his brain.
Kurt learned to ignore these things. They were small details, and what did they matter to the big picture?
One night, as Blaine went down on him, his skin hot against the sheets and his eyelashes fluttering, Kurt caught a breathy whisper. It haunted him for a week or so afterwards; he'd hardly thought of anything else. That look of ultimate lust when Blaine sat flush on his lap, head lolling back, as his lips opened slightly: Seb.
It was barely there. Nothing more than a brief exhalation of air, coincidently sounding like the name of the one person Kurt hated with all his might. But it was enough to make him think.
Since then, things had stayed the same. They had regular sex, texted each other constantly and went on dates. They were a couple – Kurt-and-Blaine, Blaine-and-Kurt: Klaine. Nice and happy.
Sam Evans walked into the choir room that day, blonde fringe brushing the tops of his eyelashes, hands jammed casually into well-worn jean pockets and grinned.
Kurt Hummel zeroed in on the boy he thought he'd forgotten, the boy who'd left his life but stayed in his thoughts.
As cliché as it was (like fingertips touching, but stronger) their eyes met across the room and Kurt was seized with a violent desire to love Sam in every way possible.
I'm back, Sam smiled.
Kurt's breath caught in his throat, heart hammering against his chest like a thousand desperate butterflies.
You never left, he whispered.