Hey guys. I've been really upset with the lack of Kum/Hevans in my life. I haven't written Kum in a really long time, and I recently realized how much I miss it. So, here's an idea I've been toying around with. Please review and share!


Every great love story involved a kiss. Sam Evans knew that. He knew that's what it would take – a kiss – to make all of his feelings relevant. No matter what happened before or after, if he could get Kurt to kiss him, no one could ever tell him he was delusional. Just knowing Kurt wanted him just for a second: that would be real enough. He'd be satisfied for the rest of his life.

"Make a wish…" Finn told Sam excitedly, his voice like a child's.

Sam sat at the end of the Hudson-Hummel table; the spot that Burt usually claimed as his "throne". In the dim light of the birthday candles, he could make out Kurt's face from across the room. Like everyone else, Kurt was watching him, grinning expectantly. He leaned forward and blew lightly on the eighteen flames, slowly putting each of them out. The family applauded. Burt flicked on the lights, and Carole took the cake out from in front of him.

"You guys, thanks, this is great…" Sam made sure to say. "If I can't be with my real family today, I'm glad I can be with people who care as much as my real family."

"Actually, I like to think we care more," Kurt grinned playfully, coming over and sliding into the seat next to his.

Sam chuckled nervously. He was far too aware of Kurt's proximity. "Oh, I'm sure you do," He nodded, humoring him.

"So, between you and me…" Kurt went on, leaning in closer and whispering. "…You didn't wish for another X-men movie, did you? Because I think that's going to happen with or without your influence."

Sam smiled goofily. "No, it was nothing like that, believe me…"

"Don't lie to me, Evans," Kurt warned him. "I know you better than that."

Sam licked his lip as Carole placed the first slice of cake in front of him. "You wish you did, Hummel."

Kurt laughed cutely. He shook his head and reached forward, sticking his pinky-finger in Sam's frosting and licking it off. He then flew out of his seat and wandered over to the counter to speed the process of getting his own piece along. Sam chuckled, bowing his head and sticking his fork in.


"Now, it's not much…" Mrs. Evan's voice echoed through the basement from the speakers of Kurt's laptop. Sam had set a birthday Skype date with his family nearly a month in advance, and it felt so good to finally communicate with them all at once.

Sam eagerly pulled the plain blue wrapping paper from the small gift his parents had shipped to him earlier in the week. He opened the box to find a thick silver wrist-watch.

"It's kind of a tradition in the family," His father told him proudly before he could react. "That's a real man's watch. I got one from my father on my eighteenth birthday; he got one from his. I wanted to get you one a little nicer, but…"

Sam interrupted his dad, not wanting to hear the end of the sentence. It killed him when his parents apologized for their situation. He knew how hard they tried. "Guys this is great…" He said, putting the watch on right away. It was a little loose, but he hoped they wouldn't notice.

"Do you like it, Sammy?" Stevie said, his distorted face taking over Sam's screen as he leaned into the camera.

"We helped pick it out!" Stacy cried, trying to push her brother out of the way.

Sam felt a pang in his chest. It was so hard for him to go from practically raising his brother and sister to not being there for them at all. "Guys, it's perfect. I'll never be late to Glee Club rehearsal again."

Sam's parents laughed. "We're happy to help you out." Mr. Evans said, grabbing his younger son by the shoulders, and pulling him away from the screen.

"Well, we have to put these two to bed. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss with us?" Mrs. Evans asked.

"No. Life's pretty dull around here."

"And they're feeding you?" She teased sweetly.

"Yes, mom, they're feeding me…" Sam promised. "Too much, actually. I've gained, like, five pounds since Christmas."

"That's good to hear."

Sam took one last look at his brother and sister, reminding himself that in a month it would be graduation, and he'd be with them again. "Goodnight guys! Be good, okay?"

"Okay," Stacy said immediately.

Stevie seemed distracted. His mother had to tap him on the shoulder. "Okay!" He said quickly.

"We love you," Mrs. Evans told him.

"Love you too…" Sam said.

And then they disconnected. Sam sighed sadly, leaning back in his desk chair. Back in December, returning to McKinley had seemed like the only way he could keep sane. Now, he wondered if he'd just given up. He'd been working, babysitting, doing housework. Moving into the Hudson-Hummel house had allowed him to abandon all that responsibility.

He shut Kurt's laptop and stood up, tucking it under his arm. He wasn't going to make himself feel guilty; not tonight. He climbed up the two flights of stairs to Kurt's room, choosing instead to focus on his birthday wish.

When he was just outside Kurt's room, he was stopped in his tracks by the sound of Kurt's voice.

"No, I'm not!" He was shouting, probably on the phone. "If anything, you're the one being unreasonable! You can't throw a fit every time I make plans without you!"

Sam held his breath, paranoid that Kurt might hear him breathing or something.

"I don't think I need to apologize for! You sprung this on me at the last minute! …Well, fine. Talk to you later then. Bye."

There was a loud thud, and Sam wondered if Kurt had just thrown his phone at the wall.

"…Shit…" Kurt cursed.

Sam then took the opportunity to knock on his door, kind of wanting to be the one to console him.

"You okay?" He asked, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him. Kurt was in the middle of picking his phone up off the floor, which confirmed Sam's earlier suspicion.

"I'm fine," Kurt huffed, walking onto his bed and falling on top of the covers. "I just told Blaine about your party this weekend, and he had the nerve to ask us to reschedule. Apparently his grandparents are in town and I was supposed to meet them. This is the first he's mentioned it."

"I'm sorry. That's rough," Sam said. He'd forgotten how bad he actually was at consoling people. He walked over to Kurt's desk. "I brought your laptop back."

"I can see that," Kurt said smartly, watching Sam set it down. "I mean…thanks. How are you parents?"

"They're great!" Sam told him. He held up his arm. "They sent me a watch."

"It's loose." Kurt told him as the watch slid slightly down Sam's forearm. "But that doesn't matter. You can get it sized at the mall."

Sam nodded, examining the fit once again. "Yeah, I guess." When he looked back up at Kurt, he was starring at the wall, a thoughtful scowl on his face, his arms folded across his chest. "You all right there?"

Sam had hoped his visit to Kurt's room tonight would consist of witty banter that he could choose to interpret as flirting to give him a sense of false hope so he could end his birthday on a high note. He hadn't anticipated Kurt to be in such a bad mood. It sort of put a damper on things.

Kurt took a deep breath, then pasted on a smile. "It's a stressful time, you know?" He said lightly. "I think Blaine and I are both realizing that we have an expiration date. I mean, I guess we don't have to break up when I go to New York but even if we stay together things have to change."

"Yeah…" Sam stared at a spot on the carpet. He wished that Kurt could offer a different explanation for why he was having problems with Blaine, because as of now, the reason Blaine and Kurt weren't working out was the same reason he and Kurt wouldn't work out. It's not like he had the money to go to college; especially not out of state. He planned on going back to Kentucky after school let out and just staying there. At least Blaine and Kurt would only be apart for a year before Blaine got some sort of ticket to go out and join his boyfriend.

"But…I shouldn't be talking about this," Kurt said quickly. "God, you don't want to hear about my relationship problems! It's your birthday!"

"It's fine…" Sam half lied. Part of him was thrilled that Kurt had been so open with him since they started living under the same room. Part of him was terrified, though, that Kurt viewed him as a brother.

"It's not fine!" Kurt jumped up off the bed. "I almost forgot to give you your present!"

"You already got me a present," Sam smiled. He'd opened his new Call of Duty game that morning.

"My parents and Finn got you a present," Kurt corrected him, rushing over to the desk and tugging open one of the drawers. "I, however, did not think a video game that promotes warfare to children was an appropriate gift."

"You're not going to try and dress me again, are you?" Sam grinned, remembering the time Kurt had made him model his hand-me-downs in his motel room. Any fashion-related gift from Kurt Hummel was bound to be tedious.

"No. I'm not," Kurt said, extracting an envelope from the drawer and walking it over to his friend. "Now, I want you to be aware of the fact that the content of this envelope is not your gift," He said strongly before handing it over.

Sam chuckled, raising his eyebrows skeptically. "What…?"

Kurt shook his head. "Your present is the pact we are going to make concerning these contents."

"Stop it," Sam laughed. "You're being weird."

Kurt sighed, and held out the unsealed envelope. Sam peeked inside it to find two lottery tickets. There was one scratch-off ticket and one with numbers for the mega-million draw.

"You're one of my best friends, Sam." Kurt told him genuinely. Sam's cheeks flushed, and his heart skipped a beat at the sound of Kurt asserting that he cared about him at all. "My birthday gift to you is a promise that we'll share equally whatever comes out of that envelope."

Sam pulled out the scratch-off ticket. "Do you do this for all your friends when they turn eighteen?"

Kurt shrugged, shaking his head. "Honestly, it never occurred to me until now. I mean, out of everyone I know, you're the person who could use lottery money the most."

Sam nodded, choosing to believe that Kurt's willingness to share a potential fortune with him meant more than just a fleeting thought. Not that it mattered. The chances of them winning the lottery were slim to none. "You gotta coin?"

Kurt walked back to the desk and came back with a quarter from his change bowl. Sam walked over to the bed, and set the ticket down on the nightstand. The ticket had three separate boxes. The instructions told him to scratch out two of them, and the two that he scratched would tell him what he won. On a whim, he quickly scratched off the first two boxes on the top. The first read "$0" and the second read "$2".

"Two whole dollars…" Kurt said pleasantly. "Think of all we can buy with that."

Sam laughed, standing up and handing it back to Kurt. "You can have it. Think of it as money back."

"Thank you," Kurt smiled, taking the ticket without argument. "But don't let this get you down. They read out Mega-Millions tomorrow night."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah…I'll count on that," He said sarcastically.

Kurt shook his head, his chin in the air, feigning confidence. "You never know. Sometimes life throws you a bone."

But in Sam's experience, it never had.


At work the next day, Sam couldn't stop thinking about it; about how great it would be not only to win the lottery; but to win the lottery with Kurt. It was a stupid fantasy, he knew, but he couldn't stop picturing what it would be like to go to New York with him; to live in adjacent loft apartments; to share gourmet meals whenever they felt like it. They were happy thoughts that consumed Sam to the point that he wasn't even paying attention to the members of the country club that he was supposed to be paying attention to. Luckily, he was just busing at the moment, so not much attention was necessary.

"Hey there, doll face,"

The smooth, familiar voice sent a tremor through Sam's body. He clenched his teeth and focused on the table he was wiping. Was that a spot of ketchup in the corner?

He could feel Sebastian creeping up on him. His blood went cold as his slow footsteps grew closer.

"You're not caddying today?" Sebastian asked. "That's too bad. I was hoping for some quality time."

"They needed help in the dining room." Sam replied, not holding back on hostility. If anyone could take him out of his happy place, it was this guy.

"Oh, well, they'll set you free if I put in a special request," Sebastian promised him smugly. "After all, I'm paying good money. I should get what I want."

"It's your father's money, Sebastian," Sam reminded him, smirking knowingly.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "I'm going to get it all when he dies anyway."

"Right," Sam mumbled, straightening up as he finished the table and throwing his rag over his shoulder as he moved on to the next one. Not surprisingly, Sebastian followed him.

"Look, Sam, I'm not trying to be a douche bag or anything," The skinny boy tried unconvincingly. "I like you. I think you're a hard worker, and you deserve tips only a Smythe can give you."

"Right…" Sam was doing his best to ignore him.

"So, I say you caddy for me, I give you that good tip you deserve, and then we go back to my place and have some fun…"

Sam finally looked Sebastian in the eye, horrified. "Dude, do you realize what you're asking me to do?"

Sebastian blinked back at Sam for a minute, then reached forward and grabbed the salt shaker from the table Sam was working on. He unscrewed it, and slowly poured the contents onto the table top.

"You missed a spot," He said, putting the empty salt shaker back down. "Have fun in the dining room."

Sam watched as Sebastian stormed off. He sighed, looking back at the table and sizing up the salty mess Sebastian had left. He took his rag off his shoulder and leaned over the table to clean it up.


Sam's shift ended at seven. He changed out of his uniform in a bathroom stall, and put on a simple jeans and T-shirt. He knew Kurt would get on his case for dressing so simply for an event as extravagant as his birthday party, but he never felt comfortable in the clothes Kurt liked on him.

"I'm not going to insult you." Kurt said to Sam when he arrived at Brittany's house. Speaking over the loud dance music that pounded through the living room, it was almost as if he'd rehearsed his declaration of acceptance. "This is your party. You could've worn a trash bag and I would've kept my mouth shut."

"This is what you call keeping your mouth shut?" Sam teased.

Before Kurt could answer, a slender pair of arms flew out of nowhere and slid around Sam's neck.

"There you are!" Quinn slurred, pressing her nose into his cheek. He laughed uncomfortably and shot Kurt a questioning look. "I just want you to know…I'm not going to have sex with you just because I'm drunk and it's your birthday."

Kurt shrugged apologetically. "I told them all we should wait for you but they wanted to pre-game."

Sam nodded understandingly. "I'm not going to try to have sex with you, Quinn," He laughed, gently patting Quinn's head. "You're not exactly my type anymore."

"Well why not!" Quinn pulled herself away from him, furious. "I'm so smart! I'm going to Yale, you know! You know that's where the smart people go…like Natalie Portman."

"Natalie Portman went to Harvard," Kurt corrected her. She flashed him a livid glare.

Sam smiled gently, placing his hands on her shoulders. "We're really proud of you, Quinn."

Quinn's face softened. "You are…?"

"Yes," Sam nodded, feeling like he was talking to a child. "I'm so proud of you. Now, this is what's going to happen: I'm going to take a shot. Then, I'm going to take another shot…"

"Dear Lord…" Kurt contributed.

"…And then you and I are going to hit the dance floor,"

Quinn liked the idea. She stuck her fist in the air and screamed, "Woo!"

Kurt clasped a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Don't forget to thank Brittany for getting rid of her parents."

"I can't make any promises," Sam said, scanning the room and finally finding the collection of bottles on the coffee table. "I might be too drunk to remember."

"Okay then…" Kurt mumbled. He gave Sam's shoulder a final pat, and shoved him on his way.

Six shots of spiced rum later (he'd been on a roll), Sam was standing in the middle of the Pierce's living room feeling like dancing was what he was born to do. He and Quinn rubbed up against each other with what, to the naked eye, could seem like grand determination.

"Guess what…?" He finally thought to tell her in the middle of a song.

"You're coming to Yale with me?" Quinn asked eagerly, her face lighting up.

"Hell no…!" Sam snapped. "Kurt and I are going to be financially interdependent!"

"What…?" She grabbed his shoulders and bent her back, giggling randomly up to the ceiling.

"It's a term of… of expression, Quinn," Sam tried. "It means Kurt's going to take care of me and…I'm going to take care of Kurt."

"Yeah…take care of your….penises…" Quinn mumbled roughly.

"What…?" Sam cackled. "You're crazy Quinn."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pulling herself closer to Sam. "I'm dizzy Quinn…" She told him.

He laughed again. It seemed that laughter was something he could no longer control. He held her waist as she led him over to the couch. They fell down at the end of it, ignoring the fact that they were sitting on the feet of Brittany and Santana, who were laying along the length of it, hard-core making out.

Quinn sighed, resting her head on Sam's shoulder. "I've missed you," She told him. "You're too nice. Can we be friends again?"

"Of course we can," Sam said, becoming distracted.

Kurt was across the room with Rachel. They were standing side by side against the wall, each of them holding a classy-looking martini glass. Kurt looked so great in his skinny jeans. Sam bit his lip, as he ran his eyes down the length of his leg. Then, he looked back at his face; his confident smile; his sparkling eyes.

"I love him, Quinn," He heard himself say.

"Hmmm…" Quinn was almost asleep on top of him.

Suddenly, Kurt's head turned and his face changed. It was like he was happy and sad at the same time. Sam tried to figure out what Kurt was looking at. As soon as he saw Blaine coming in through the doorway, his stomach dropped.

He saw the two of them mouthing apologies for their argument from the night before.

"I'm sorry"

"No I'm sorry,"

And then they were kissing; full on kissing in the middle of the party with their hands all over each other. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that Blaine got to kiss Kurt whenever he wanted to.

"I thought he was with his grandparents," Sam said, not meaning to say it out loud.

"Hmmm…" Quinn said again.

Suddenly, Kurt and Blaine were coming toward him; he tightened his hold around Quinn, using her as a sort of drunken security blanket.

"Hey, Sam, Happy birthday," Blaine said enthusiastically. Kurt was crouching down in front of the coffee table to pour his boyfriend a drink. Sam could barely form a response.

"Saw your friend today…" He finally said to Blaine. "Sebastian…you still talk to him…?"

Kurt and Blaine exchanged nervous glances. Sam was oddly pleased with himself. He knew that there was some sort of unspoken agreement amongst his friends not to speak of Sebastian Smythe. For some reason, though, drunken Sam just couldn't bring himself to honor it.

Kurt reached out and gave Blaine's hand a squeeze, flashing him a reassuring smile. Sam was disappointed to see that they were very determined to be happy tonight. Not wanting to deal with torture anymore, Sam breathed deeply, closing his eyes, and leaning his head back. He chose, instead, to just shut them out.


"No." Was the first thing Sam said when he woke up in the morning; before he even sat up or opened his eyes. Part of him thought he could will the hang-over away. Maybe if he told it off before it hit him, it wouldn't have the guts to show its face.

"You okay?"

Sam sat up with a start, surprised by the voice, and the pain hit him instantly.

"What's going on?" He asked, squinting, trying to make out his surrounding in the bright light. It took him a minute to realize he was in Kurt's room, on the floor, with his legs tangled in lavender, light-knit throw blanket.

"Now tell me," Kurt said, sitting at his vanity-table, rubbing circles of moisturizer on his cheeks. "Was that really as comfortable as you thought it would be?"

Sam looked around, confused. He barely remembered the night before. He remembered getting off the couch after Blaine and Kurt had disappeared. He remembered pouring himself a seventh shot…and an eighth…and a ninth…

"You were very insistent," Kurt informed him. "I put you in your own bed downstairs twice before I gave up. You kept saying you'd be more comfortable in here with me."

"Oh god…" Sam was mortified. He rand his palm down his stubbly cheek. "I'm sorry…"

"Its fine," Kurt grinned. "I was flattered. Confused…but flattered…"

"Why confused…?" Sam asked nervously. He hoped to god he hadn't said anything else.

"You kept saying I had to get used to taking care of you," Kurt shrugged. "But whatever…It's not the first time you've talked nonsense when you were drunk."

"Yeah, definitely not," Sam agreed quickly.

Kurt finished rubbing in his lotion and stood up, wiping his hands on the towel that lay in a heap on the corner of the table.

"Guess what we missed last night?" Kurt asked, walking past him and patting him on the head.

"I don't know about you, but I feel like I missed everything…"

Kurt nodded sympathetically. "Actually, I'm talking about something more specific."

Sam had no idea. "Just tell me."

"I'm going to check online," Kurt said, walking over to his desk, where his laptop sat open. He opened his drawer and pulled out their ticket envelope. "The drawing was at nine last night. We need to know if we're millionaires."

Sam laughed weakly, and suddenly noticed how thirsty he was. He got up off the floor and tried to follow Kurt, but ended up face-down on the bed instead.

He couldn't really think about anything; not even about how good Kurt's sheets smelled. His head hurt way too badly. He zoned out, trying to ignore the annoying clicking of Kurt's fingers against the keys of his keyboard.

Eventually the clicking stopped. "Oh my god…"

Sam wanted to ask what the matter was, but he couldn't lift his face up to speak.

"Sam, get up!"

"What?" He asked, getting a face full of mattress just for opening his mouth.

"Get up now!"

He felt like crying as he lifted himself. "What?" He asked.

Kurt turned to him, his eyes wide, and his face completely white. Suddenly, Sam knew that something was up. His heart began to race.

"What…?" He asked again. Finally, he was fully present in the moment.

"Sam…" Kurt said, looking like he was about to cry. "I think we just won the lottery!"