Title: Homecoming Tradition
Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sad day. :'(
A/N: Two fics in two days? I'm on a roll. ; ) Enjoy!
For every Homecoming football game, per tradition, members from the football team were allowed to choose a Cheerio to be their personal cheerleader. Each Cheerio got the football player's extra jersey to wear for the game, and got the number painted on their face. They'd wear the jersey for the week ahead of the game as morale and then where it for the night of the game as support. For most of the girls, it was an exciting time and usually a blossoming of new relationships or cat-fights over who got who. For Kurt, it was an utter nightmare; even being the captain of the Cheerios did nothing for him.
Kurt had been hoping halfheartedly that perhaps at least one player who hadn't gotten a Cheerio (there were usually three or four, and they would normally choose some girl from the stands to wear their number) might approach him. Finn gave Rachel his, of course. That was no surprise. Though, Coach Sylvester had thrown a real fit over it, saying being in Glee club and not being one of her Cheerios excluded her from being a choice. Principal Figgins ruled against her, and Rachel had eagerly accepted the jersey like it was the Regionals trophy.
Puck gave his to Santana, despite how Quinn had asked for it. That one was sort of surprising, but when rumor got around that Santana would castrate Puck for even thinking about it, it suddenly wasn't so surprising at all. One by one, each Cheerio began to sport jerseys in the halls and Kurt began to feel smaller and smaller. He sighed. It wasn't like he'd been expecting to get one, but it just would have been nice to be considered...
Kurt pretended to be indulged in his nails like they were possibly the most interesting thing in the world. He was trying to also pretend that the clenching in his stomach was from Coach Sylvester's diet, and not from jealousy or rejection. It was the day before the game, and at this rate, he was going to be the only Cheerio in uniform for Friday night.
Kurt slammed his locker shut, pushing a frustrated hand through his hair – and opened up his locker again, inspecting the damage and with practiced ease, made it perfect once more. Not that it did much good once he turned around to head to class and was met with a sharp, cold, wet sting as cherry slushy hit him in the face.
"Hey! Where's your jersey, fag?" Azimio called out after him as him, slapping Karofsky a high-five. Kurt licked his lips and frowned. He could already feel what the horrible, sticky substance was doing to his face. He wiped it from his eyes, and opened his locker once again, pulling out his spare clothes. Kurt headed to the bathroom, frustrated, and shoved through the door.
–
Sam splashed water over his face. He was nervous. Really nervous. Sure, he'd played games before, but this was the Homecoming game. It was big, you know? And being the quarterback, he had a lot riding on his shoulders.
He'd yet to find a Cheerio to wear his jersey, too. He'd had plenty of offers from several girls, but as cliché as it sounded, he wanted the one who wore it to be one who deserved it. And he certainly didn't want to give it to a chick who'd promise to castrate him. Maybe he should give his to Quinn. She'd seemed sad when Puck hadn't given her his jersey, but then again, she already had one from another player so she was well off.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid fucking neanderthals-" Sam looked up as the door was thrown open and he jolted, hurriedly grabbing paper towels and wiping his face. A boy, probably his age, came storming through. They froze when they met eyes.
"Hi." Sam said bluntly. He knew this kid, who didn't? Kurt Hummel. He was the first male captain of the Cheerios in the history of... forever (coach Sylvester was advocating to have it written down in the encyclopedias of the world). And he was Finn's younger brother ("Sort of, we're kind-of-almost-step-brothers, if that makes sense," Finn had said). And he had a really great ass. Sam had watched Kurt sway up to the board more than once in Spanish class to finish up a problem that was offered.
And he was gay, Sam remembered that. It was treated like social suicide at a school like this, but to Sam, it was a miracle. When he'd heard there was only one other gay kid at the school, he'd been dreading that he'd only end up dating him because they were both gay. Why, then, was it a a miracle, you ask? Because Kurt turned out to be smoking hot, really funny, really sweet, really flexible, and he had an amazing voice. And Sam wanted him.
"Hello." Kurt replied, shuffling awkwardly. Sam suddenly noticed the icy drink that had been thrust across the other boy's face and chest.
"Dude, what happened?" Sam asked, his brows pulling together with concern.
"Please don't ask." Kurt said, shoulders sagging. He looked suddenly weak and Sam nodded. He grabbed more paper towels, folding them up and handed them to Kurt. Kurt snorted, pushing sticky locks of hair from his face.
"Please. Do you realize how raw those will make the skin on my face if I rub it in?" Kurt asked and Sam raised a brow.
"I was thinking anything to get that slushy off would be fine. What else would you use?" Sam asked and Kurt placed his bag on the table. He opened it up, and pulled out a small pack of wipes.
"Moist towelettes," Sam laughed and Kurt shrugged as he pulled out a few and began to swipe away the sticky ice, "Laugh all you please, they condition and clean my face quite well, thank you."
"Trust me, I know. My mother thinks their miracle wipes. The only reason I couldn't give you any is because I ran out of the last pack she gave me." Sam held up his hands and he didn't miss the surprised look Kurt sent his way.
"What? Not all of us are stupid neanderthals." Sam winked, flashing a bright grin.
–
Kurt blushed and looked away as he turned on the faucet and began to pool water into his hands to thrust into his hair and pull free any of the caked syrup and ice, "You heard that, huh?" Kurt pursed his lips as he pulled off his jacket delicately, laying it on the nearest sink as gently as possible. He'd chosen the wrong day to wear his favorite Marc Jacob's jacket. He paused, glancing over at Sam in earnest for a long moment, "You won't... tell... will you?"
Sam started at him, surprised, like he might have gone crazy, "What? No! Trust me, by playing on the same team with them, I understand why you're pissed." Kurt felt relief swell into his chest and he smiled, nodding.
"Thanks."
"Hey, no problem." Sam nodded, hitching his bag on his shoulder. Kurt turned back to the mirror and looked down at his shirt with an angry scowl. The slushy had soaked right through his jacket.
"You need a shirt?" Sam asked and Kurt looked up. His eyes widened when he saw Sam holding out his jersey.
–
Sam smiled as he watched shock worm its way across Kurt's face when he presented him with the jersey.
"Ummm, Sam... aren't you supposed to give that to a Cheerio for the Homecoming game?" Kurt asked, face pale. He'd known Sam was nice, Finn had told him so. But Finn had told him that Puck was nice too and for years, the jock had tossed him into the dumpster. He couldn't be too sure. But, he could be sure that Sam had a killer smile with a pair of green eyes that always seemed to grin with him, and Kurt always found his knees a little weak when the other walked into the room. And in the time they'd been around one another over the school year so far, Sam had genuinely seemed interested in talking to him and being around him and just being a friend.
"Aren't you a Cheerio?" Sam raised a brow, flashing another toothy grin that had Kurt's heart skipping a beat.
"Well... yeah, but-"
"But what?"
"Well, it's just... I don't know, I wouldn't think... you'd want me to wear it." Kurt's face was almost as red as the slushy patch on his shirt. Sam cocked his head.
"Why not?"
"Look, I'm just not used to guys looking at me or being around me without freaking out that they'll, y'know... "catch the gay" or whatever, other than Finn and Artie." Kurt blurted out and returned to cleaning up his face and neck. Sam's lips compressed into a tight line and he watched Kurt's back. He reached out, gently touching his shoulder.
"I can't catch what I already have." Sam said quietly. Kurt turned around so fast, his elbow met Sam's stomach in a hard blow. Sam stumbled back, surprised and Kurt reached out for him, grabbing his shirt and held on for dear life as they crashed to the floor. It was silent as Kurt lay splayed atop of the football player. Sam's hands on his hips left him shivering and their faces were so close that there noses were brushing and – suddenly Sam began to laugh hysterically.
"It's not funny!" Kurt tried to scowl, but it was too late, he was already laughing, "Who knows what is on the floor!"
"We are!" Sam grinned as he stood, grabbing Kurt's arm and helped him up. He dusted himself down as Kurt checked his pants for any marks. Sam smiled as Kurt checked his ass without shame, and Sam admired him in a way that had the other boy redder than a tomato.
"So, ummm, Kurt."
"Yeah?" Sam pulled his jersey off the floor, shaking it out as he handed it over.
"Would you want to wear my jersey to the football game? I'd... really like it if you would." Sam rubbed the back of his neck, offering another smile, but this time it was anxious. Kurt smiled with pink cheeks as he gently accepted the shirt, looking down at it. #23. He'd have to get Mercedes to paint his face – after she woke up from having fainted.
"Yeah... Yeah, I'd like to." Kurt nodded eagerly as he pulled off his shirt, using the moist towelette to wipe down his chest. Once cleaned, he pulled on his jersey, glancing down at himself. He turned back to the bathroom mirror, looking at his reflection. Sam was smiling at him through the glass.
"Look at you. My own personal, little cheerleader." Sam laughed and Kurt rolled his eyes.
"It doesn't look half bad. Of course, it's nothing like my Alexander McQueen vest, accompanied with matching tie and blouse with-"
"It looks sexy. I like this look on you," Sam's eyebrows wriggled, eying Kurt up in down in a way that even a blind person would be yelling at him for subtlety. Kurt chuckled, touching the jersey with a fond smile. He was wearing a football jersey – and a football player had given it to him. Willingly. As in wanted to give it to him. Kurt almost couldn't believe it.
"Would you also like to go to the Homecoming dance with me?" Kurt froze in place. He stared at Sam in the reflection of the mirror. He was grinning at him nervously again.
"Really?"
"Yeah," Sam nodded, admiring him in the jersey once more; he'd have to get him to wear it for every game, it made him look positively delicious, "Really." Kurt turned around, beaming up at him. He really didn't know how such a bad day could have ended up like this, but he didn't care. He was just glad that Sam didn't seem to care when Kurt threw his arms about his neck and kissed him. He was even happier when Sam responded. When they drew away, Sam's already plump lips were just a bit more swollen and Kurt could feel the sting on his own.
Sam licked his lips, leaning back in for another kiss, "I'll take that as a yes."
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