"Tell us everything."

Blaine had to be kidding. He knew very well what had happened between him and Mercedes over the summer: diddly squat. But, okay. If that's how he wanted it. Sam would tell the guys about his summer fling.

And Blaine, he played it so cool, even when Sam touched his arm as he said, "Well she was good, you know what I mean." Even though he had to know Sam meant he was good.

Lunch was over and most of the guys headed back inside. Sam and Blaine lingered on the bleachers for a few minutes. "Why'd you ask me about my summer fling in front of everyone?"

"Sorry," Blaine said. "Kurt and the girls had this plan to try to get Mercedes to talk, and Kurt wanted me to ask you..."

"Ah. Kurt." Sam didn't really talk to Kurt as much as you might think, living in the same house with him and everything. But Kurt was gone a lot. Specifically, he was at Blaine's a lot. Not that there was any reason that should bother Sam. And actually, it bothered him a lot less than the times the two of them were in Kurt's room and Sam could hear them, or imagined he could hear them.

He and Blaine didn't talk about...well, they didn't talk much at all, really. They certainly didn't talk about what happened after sectionals. So this, right now—it was very weird. When Blaine said he had to get to class, Sam pretended he needed a minute to tie his shoe, just for an excuse not to walk with him. And, okay, maybe he stared at his ass a little while he walked away.

And that was it. He really had to get back together with Mercedes so he could stop lusting after his host-brother's boyfriend.

He joined synchronized swimming for her. All that got him was a complex about his nipples and a couple slushies to the face. He came up with an epic proposal plan...not for her, exactly, it was for Mr. Schue to propose to Ms. Pillsbury, but Mercedes should have been impressed by how romantic he was.

"I don't think Mercedes even realizes it was my idea," Sam complained to Finn that night after the whole thing was a huge success. "Rachel totally took credit for it just because she picked that song, which by the way was all wrong. Uh, you don't need to tell Rachel I said that."

"Don't need to tell Rachel that you said what?" Kurt asked as he and Blaine joined Sam and Finn in the kitchen.

"He doesn't like the song she picked for the proposal," Finn said.

"The proposal was totally romantic," Blaine said. "The singing, the synchronized swimming, the flowers..."

"Yeah, and it was my idea. Except the exact song, which was all wrong."

"'We Found Love,' what's wrong with that?" Kurt asked.

"The second half of the line: 'in a hopeless place.' If you can find love somewhere then it isn't hopeless. And besides, McKinley isn't that bad."

Kurt scoffed and said, "You are way too Pollyanna."

"What? I was happy to come back to it, and so were you. You even talked Blaine into transferring."

"That's true, Kurt," Blaine said. He looked down at his hand, the one that was holding Kurt's, and he added, "I wouldn't have transferred to McKinley if I thought it was hopeless."

"Point taken," Kurt said. "Who wants iced tea?" He was getting glasses out of the cupboard when Burt rushed into the kitchen.

"You guys gotta do me a favor and clear outta here for a while," Burt said.

"Why?" Finn asked.

"Well, Finn, I know you're uncomfortable hearing about certain aspects of my relationship with your mom..."

"Oh, God!" Finn was up and out of the kitchen immediately.

"Here," Burt said, handing Kurt twenty bucks. "Go out for coffee or something."

Finn was nowhere to be found by the time the other three guys got their coats on and made it out to the driveway. They guessed he had probably gone to hang out with Puck, since Rachel wasn't big on impromptu dates, at least not when they weren't her idea.

"Well, I guess it'll just be the three of us at the Lima Bean," Kurt said.

"Nah, you guys go ahead," Sam said. "I'll go...I'll just go to the library and study or something."

"Don't be silly, Sam. You didn't even grab your books."

Kurt was right, he couldn't really study without his books. And as much as he didn't want to be a third wheel on Blaine and Kurt's sorta-date, he really didn't have anything else to do, and so he went with them.

Blaine drove. They were barely settled at a table with their drinks when Kurt got a call from Mercedes. Sam watched the water in his cup darken as the tea steeped while trying not to look at Blaine too much or eavesdrop on Kurt's call.

Not that he could help but hear Kurt's side of it: "You have plenty of lovely—...Well, yes, of course, but—...I can't right now, I'm on a, well, not exactly a date..." He covered the phone and said, "She wants me to go to the mall with her. I'm trying to tell her we're doing stuff."

"You can go if you want to," Blaine said. "We're not actually doing much."

"But I don't want to just leave you guys with each other. I mean, I'm not saying you won't be able to think of lots of stuff to talk about..."

"No, you should definitely go," Sam said. "It kinda sounds like she needs you, and like Blaine said, we're just sitting around killing time. And like you said, Blaine and I can think of stuff to talk about." Blaine looked at him warily, but Kurt actually looked relieved, and he arranged with Mercedes for her to pick him up at the Lima Bean.

"Kurt, when you guys are hanging out, you gotta put in a good word for me, okay? Tell her the proposal was my idea because I'm all romantic and stuff. Please?"

"Is that why you were so eager for Kurt to go?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah. Of course." Of course that was the only reason. Why else would...okay, well he knew perfectly well Blaine might think...except he shouldn't think that because been so good about leaving Blaine alone and respecting his relationship with Kurt. And besides, Mercedes was the one he was interested in. Obviously.

"Sam..." Kurt said. "I don't think I can do that. Mercedes is my friend. I wouldn't be comfortable trying to sabotage her relationship."

"But you don't think she belongs with that guy, do you?"

Kurt took a long sip of his mocha like he was pondering how to answer. "I don't have to see whatever she sees in him. If he were mistreating her that would be one thing, but—"

"Maybe he is. You know? Like when I got slushied the other day—"

"You got slushied?" Blaine asked. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Sam shrugged because, really, what was he supposed to have done? Gone to Blaine and let Blaine clean him up and kiss him and make it better? "It happens," he said. "Anyway, Mercedes was helping me wipe my face off, and along comes Mr. Burly, barreling down the hall like he owns it, and he orders Mercedes to stop talking to me even and go with him, like, right away. I don't think she should be with someone who orders her around."

Kurt looked a little concerned but mostly skeptical. "That doesn't sound like something Mercedes would put up with. I'll see what I can find out, but I'm not sending her into your arms."

"What's wrong with my arms?" Sam asked, inspecting them. Kurt just rolled his eyes and didn't even answer, proving there was nothing wrong with Sam's arms.

After Kurt left with Mercedes, Blaine said, "If you don't want to hang out with me I can drive you home or somewhere else."

"Why wouldn't I want to hang out with you?" Sam asked, peering into his tea. It was too dark, he'd let it steep too long. He didn't actually like tea all that much, but he could drink it without milk or sugar, unlike coffee. He should've had a bottle of water.

"So you really want Mercedes back," Blaine said.

"Yeah. Of course. I mean, I deserve someone, don't I?"

"Yeah, definitely. But I mean, maybe...No, never mind."

"Maybe what?"

Blaine avoided his eyes and said, "Maybe you should be interested in someone who doesn't already have a boyfriend."

Wow. Blaine really had a lot of nerve if he was suggesting that...Sam jiggled his teabag around and said, "I'm not interested in you, if that's what you're getting at."

"I didn't say—"

"And besides, look who's talking."

"What...Look, who kissed who in the locker room, huh?"

"Only after you said you wanted me bad. And besides, who snuck into whose bed? Right after fucking their boyfriend?"

"Okay...I...you..." Blaine sputtered. He stood up like he was going to leave, but then he saw something that made him freeze. Sam turned to see what it was. Behind him stood one of the Warblers, a tall guy he didn't remember.

"Sorry, am I interrupting a lovers' quarrel?" the guy asked with an obnoxious smirk.

"Oh. Hey, Sebastian," Blaine said, not really meeting the guy's eye. "No, of course not, just a...a regular quarrel."

"I gotta go," Sam said. He stood up and grabbed his tea.

"Sam, wait..." Blaine held out his keys, reminding Sam he was his ride.

"Don't worry about it, I feel like walking." He dropped his undrunk tea in the trash on his way out the door.

Sebastian sat in the chair that had been Sam's. "New boyfriend? He's hot."

"He's just a friend. An acquaintance, really."

"Oh, good. So you're available."

"No! No, I'm still with Kurt."

"Wow." Sebastian shook his head and chuckled lightly. "I've gotta hand it to you, Blaine. You pull off the innocence and virtue thing really well. And I'm not just saying that because it wounds my ego that you'd cheat on your boyfriend with that guy but not with me." Blaine tried to protest but Sebastian just held up his hand to quiet him. "Don't worry, I'm the least judgmental person you'll ever know. Just don't insult my intelligence by trying to bullshit me."

"I really don't know what you're talking about," Blaine said, forcing himself to stand. "And I'd love to stay and chat but I have to get home."

He made it to the front door before Sebastian called after him, "See you later, beautiful." He didn't want to look back at him but he couldn't help it somehow, and Sebastian had that arrogant smirk on his face again.

Sebastian started calling him mornings before school. Blaine almost didn't answer his phone the first time; the only reason he did was...well, to tell the truth he was a little bit scared of Sebastian. It crossed his mind that Sebastian might be planning to tell Kurt what he knew or thought he knew about him and Sam. It would help if he at least knew how much Sebastian had actually heard and how much he was just guessing at.

And so he did answer, with no small amount of trepidation, but Sebastian was actually sort of...nice. He even started out with an apology. "I think I made you uncomfortable last night, and I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention. Sometimes I go too far with the joking around and the playful flirting."

"Oh," Blaine said, taken by surprise, "no, it's okay."

"And I don't really want to come between you and Kurt. Well, I do, but only by seducing you away from him for myself. I hope you don't think I'd tell him about you and the blond god just out of spite."

"No, I...I mean there's nothing to tell."

Sebastian was silent for a split-second longer than was comfortable. When he did speak he said, "Okay. But if there were anything I still wouldn't tell. I really am very nonjudgmental."

"Um...that doesn't surprise me somehow."

Sebastian laughed. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Anderson. But now listen, there was actually something I wanted to ask you. If I gave Nick a solo at regionals, do you think he'd rise to the occasion, or do you think he might panic and choke?"

"Wait. You're asking me for regionals strategy advice?"

"Why not? You're a pro, and you've known Nick longer than I have."

"Yeah, but...I'm the competition. What makes you think I won't give you intentionally bad advice?"

"Because, Blaine," Sebastian said patiently, "you're not that kind of guy."

And Blaine wasn't that kind of guy. That is, it was tempting, but he really didn't want to be that kind of guy. But he didn't exactly want to help out the Warblers, either, so... "Maybe you should ask David what he thinks."

"I've made you uncomfortable again. I'm sorry, I really am doing my best here!"

And he was, Blaine could tell Sebastian was trying, so he said it was fine and changed the subject. They didn't end up talking for long that first morning, but it was a little longer the next time Sebastian called and a little longer still the time after that.

So yeah, Blaine mentioned that they were planning on singing Michael at regionals. Sebastian had told him stuff about the Warblers too, like the thing about Nick's solo. He didn't think anything of it until Sebastian told Kurt and Santana and the others that the Warblers had changed their set list because of it. He thought Sebastian was joking, in fact, when he said it.

Rachel didn't think so, obviously. Neither did Kurt—although Kurt had never liked Sebastian—or Santana or Artie. It wasn't until Sebastian said he was tired of playing nice that Blaine realized he was serious.

Sebastian had the nerve to call him the next morning, as if nothing were up. "Good morning, starshine," he said casually when Blaine picked up.

"What the hell, Sebastian? You announce you're stealing MJ from us, getting my whole team mad at me not to mention my boyfriend, and then you call me as if we're still friends?"

"I still like you, Blaine. It's nothing personal."

"The hell it isn't!"

"Look. Blaine," Sebastian explained calmly. "If it were personal...if I really wanted to get Kurt mad at you, I could have told him something much worse. Don't forget that."

Blaine was speechless. He didn't know how to interpret that as anything other than a vague threat. He was filled with a sudden dread about what Sebastian might say next—and how he would respond to whatever it was—and so he hung up abruptly. And immediately called Sam and asked to meet him in the choir room before school.

Sam was there before he was. He stood up when Blaine walked in and said, "I'm glad you wanted to talk, dude. It's been weird avoiding each other."

"Yeah, but that's—"

"And I'm sorry. I really am. Some of the stuff I said was totally out of line."

"Well, I was the first one to say something out of line. So I'm sorry too."

"I've been thinking, though," Sam said, "and you weren't totally wrong. I mean—"

"Sam." It wasn't that Blaine didn't want to hear what he wasn't totally wrong about. He actually wanted to hear about that very, very much. But there were only a few minutes until first period started, and he wouldn't have a chance to talk to Sam alone again until glee practice. "That guy who heard us talking? Sebastian? He knows about us. He doesn't know specifics, and I denied it, but he knows."

Sam took a step back and leaned against the piano. "Oh. So...he knows what, exactly? And how?"

"I'm not sure. If he heard everything—and I've replayed the conversation over and over in my mind—if he heard everything then he knows that you kissed me and I snuck into your bed."

"Uh huh." Sam nodded to himself and looked thoughtful. "Well that's not so bad. The kiss, maybe, but that was me, that wasn't you cheating on Kurt. And the bed thing...it doesn't prove anything happened. You could've been, like, scared because there was a thunderstorm or something."

"Y-yeah. Well and he might not have heard anything; he could just be inferring. In any case he doesn't have proof, and Kurt's not going to believe him over me. Over me and you. So if he does say anything, we just deny it."

"Okay. I mean I hate to lie." Blaine's panic at that statement must have shown on his face, because Sam hastened to add, "Not that I'm gonna tell Kurt. I just mean I hate that we're in a situation where we have to lie."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed, "we shouldn't have..."

"That's not exactly what I meant, though," Sam said. "You're right, totally, that we shouldn't have done it. But since I'm wishing, I mean...I wish we'd done it but it wasn't something we had to lie about."

"Oh," Blaine said. He wanted to agree, but...would that mean saying he wished he weren't with Kurt? Or maybe just that Kurt somehow wouldn't mind? It was perhaps something he should think about, but he still had to tell Sam the other part, the part about Michael Jackson.

After he did, Sam was confused. "So wait," he said, "You told this Sebastian guy about our plans for regionals because he was blackmailing you?"

"Not exactly," Blaine tried to explain. "It was more like...I think the fact that he said he wasn't going to tell Kurt about...you know...even though he's always flirting with me and stuff—"

"Sebastian flirts with you!?" This information seemed to make Sam jealous, which was a little weird, considering.

"Yeah. So it seemed like maybe he'd have a reason to want to tell Kurt, but since he didn't tell him, I guess it convinced me I could trust him. And he told me stuff about the Warblers and it seemed like we were...friends or something..." Blaine realized how stupid and naïve and gullible that made him sound.

"Oh my God, what an unbelievable bastard. He's seriously like some kind of evil genius. Well...but okay, so what? So he knows we're doing MJ. I mean, how many times have they all told us—everyone who was here the first year, I mean—about how their entire set list for sectionals was stolen, and they didn't even know it until the competition had already started? This is nothing compared to that. No big deal."

Right. It wasn't that big a deal...or it shouldn't have been, anyway. But the rest of the New Directions didn't agree, and Blaine somehow found himself suggesting that they "take it to the streets."

It was Puck's fault, really, with his comment about Blaine being an "eggs benedict." And of course Mr. Schue, as the supposedly responsible adult, never should have let things get so out of control. As soon as the words "take it to the streets" left a student's mouth, the teacher should have shut that whole thing down immediately. What would Michael Jackson do, indeed—what the hell kind of "lesson" was that, anyway?

The kind that got a kid nearly blinded, as it turned out.

Everyone just stood around gawking—well, the New Directions just stood around gawking. The Warblers ran away like the chickenshits they were. Sam finally picked Blaine up and carried him to Kurt's car. Kurt thanked him and said he'd take him from there and didn't even let Sam go to the hospital with them.

Which...it wasn't like Sam wanted to go to the hospital with them, except that he could have been helpful. Maybe someone would need to carry Blaine inside, and was Kurt really going to be able to do that? But...Kurt was taking him to the emergency room—they'd have stretchers and wheelchairs and stuff. And besides, there wasn't actually anything wrong with Blaine's legs. So...he knew it didn't matter that he wouldn't be there.

But he worried. He didn't sleep at all that night because he just kept thinking...what if Blaine went blind? It was entirely his fault. And Sebastian, of course—that guy was gonna pay, but...but if Sam hadn't started making out with Blaine that one night, then none of this would have happened.

He went over to Blaine's right after glee, cutting the rest of his classes for the day. He wouldn't have gone to school at all, but he didn't want the others wondering where he was.

An unpleasant thought occurred to him just as he was about to knock on the front door: What if Blaine's mom or dad or whoever was home with him mentioned to Kurt that he had come over? He stood back and studied the house, trying to figure out which window was the one to Blaine's room. It was on the second floor, but that was all he could remember for sure. He was trying to find an easy way to any of the second-floor windows when it dawned on him that he could just call and maybe Blaine could suggest a way in. Or tell him to go to hell and never speak to him again...you know, one or the other.

Blaine answered his phone with a panicked, "Who is this!?"

"Uh...it's Sam. I wanted to see if you're okay."

"Sam?" Blaine asked, confused.

"Yeah...I..."

"Oh, Sam! Sorry, I was asleep and when the phone rang I..."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come over."

"What, you're here? Hold on, I'll come let you in." He hung up before Sam could mention the part about not wanting Blaine's parents to see him.

Blaine, when he opened the front door, looked way different than any way Sam had seen him before. He had on gray boxers and a paint-stained Dalton t-shirt. His hair was unwashed and while there was gel in it, it was only what was left over from the day before, and his hair was misshapen and sticking out in odd places. One eye was covered with a patch and the other was glazed and unfocused. "You look like hell," Sam said.

Blaine smiled vaguely and said, "Yeah, well, I'm on a lot of pain meds."

"Then I guess I can let it slide that you're wearing the enemy's t-shirt."

Blaine squinted and tried to read the writing on his chest, upside down and one-eyed. "Shit," he said, peeling it off and chucking it onto a chair. "Come on upstairs."

"Wait." Sam lowered his voice and said, "Will your parents mention to Kurt that I was here, do you think?"

"My parents? They're not home, are they?" Blaine asked, as if Sam would know if he didn't. "What time is it?"

"A little before eleven."

"In the morning? No, they're not home. Why would they be?"

"Um, cause you're injured? And heavily medicated?"

Blaine laughed, and Sam wasn't sure if it was because he actually thought something he'd said was funny or if it was just the pain meds. "Can you, like, make it back upstairs on your own?"

"Yeah. Oh yeah, I'm fine," he insisted. Sam had actually kind of wanted to carry him, but instead he just followed him up the stairs, holding his arms out just in case Blaine should fall.

Blaine collapsed onto his bed and patted the spot next to him, so Sam sat there, turned mostly away from Blaine. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

"At the moment? Not so much."

"Good meds?"

"Really good meds." Blaine let his arms splay out, one of them landing in Sam's lap.

"I, um. God, Blaine, I'm so sorry." He took Blaine's hand and tried to hold back the tears that were waiting to fall. "I know you can probably never forgive me, and I don't deserve it, but I just want you to know that—"

"Wait. Forgive you for what?"

"For...for starting this whole...thing between us. If we'd never...If I'd never..." And yeah, he was crying now.

"Sam." Blaine pulled on Sam's arm until his head landed heavily on Blaine's chest. "By that logic it's Burt's fault for kicking us all out of the house."

"No, but..." Sam tried to control his stupid crying. "But Burt wasn't doing anything wrong..."

"Wait..." Blaine scrunched his forehead and closed his eyes—well, the one that wasn't covered by the patch anyway—and said, "Are you saying this is, like, cosmic retribution or something? That Sebastian is an implement of divine justice?"

Sam buried his face in Blaine's chest and said, "I don't know. I just...I sorta feel like we should confess."

Blaine tensed and asked, "And then what?"

"And then..." Sam swallowed and forced himself to say out loud what he'd been thinking ever since the night at the Lima Bean: "And then we could be together openly? And honorably? Or at least more honorably than...than...you know."

Blaine didn't say anything for a while, and Sam couldn't bring himself to look at him. He was about to take it back, say he was only joking or something, when Blaine started stroking his hair. Sam didn't know what that meant, but it didn't seem like it could be too bad a sign, and besides it felt amazing and made him want to stay curled up with Blaine forever.

When Blaine did finally speak, he said, "Would you really want that? To date publicly? Or would you just, like, feel obligated or something?"

Sam placed his hand on Blaine's stomach, but he was still scared to look at him. "I don't know why you think I'd feel obligated. I really want to."

"So...you'd be willing to come out as...what? Bisexual?"

"Um...I guess I haven't thought about that part too much. I'm actually a lot more worried about people finding out what we did to Kurt and Mercedes, but...but I mean, I guess we deserve that, so..."

"So...you're saying I'm more to you than just an outlet for your sexual frustration?"

"That's what I'm saying, Blaine. And I mean, I can use my hand for that."

"Sam...that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Sam looked at him, finally, mostly out of surprise. He couldn't believe Kurt hadn't said way sweeter things than that. He saw that Blaine was starting to cry, which probably wasn't good for his injured eye, and so he scooted up and smoothed his hair and kissed him. It was a tentative kiss, because he was very aware that his admission of "feelings" hadn't been returned.

When Blaine kissed him back—not tentatively at all, but deeply and assertively—Sam took it as a reciprocal declaration.

Before he quite grasped what was going on, he was flat on his back with Blaine on top of him, pulling on his shirt. Blaine's shirt was already off, and Sam let his hands roam over his chest. He guessed he was bisexual, like Blaine said a few minutes ago, and he guessed he didn't care who knew it. Not if it meant getting to be with Blaine all the time. He lifted his head so Blaine could get the shirt off him, and Blaine caught him in another kiss.

Blaine kissed along his jaw, under his ear, and down his neck. By the time he got to Sam's collarbone he was grinding his erection against Sam's. Sam let his hands slide down Blaine's back and cup his ass, first over the boxers and then...tentatively...under. Blaine's ass was...the memory of being in it...well, he thought of it every single night. He didn't know if they were headed that way now but he hoped so, he really hoped so. He let a finger slide along Blaine's crack and rest outside his opening. "Blaine," he whispered, "can I...I mean, do you want me to..."

"Blow me first. You owe me a blowjob."

Not that Sam was averse to the idea, but he still had to ask, "I owe you one?"

"Don't you remember? After I came you said you would've blown me and I said 'next time then' and you said 'okay.'"

Sam remembered saying he would've blown Blaine, which was what he had been planning to do. He didn't remember the rest of the conversation. "So...you've been planning on a next time?"

"Not planning. Hoping, I guess. On some level."

Sam smiled. "Me too." He pulled Blaine's boxers off and rolled them both over so he was on top.

"There's lube in my drawer," Blaine said, pointing, "if you want to, uh...I mean, one of us will have to..."

Sam slid over and pulled out the bottle. He teased the outside of Blaine's entrance with his slippery fingers and the length of Blaine's cock with his tongue. One of the actions, or maybe both, made Blaine gasp and arch. He licked all over Blaine's balls, then slowly up the shaft. Without removing his tongue from Blaine's cock he applied some more lube to his fingers, and as he sucked Blaine's cockhead slowly into his mouth, he simultaneously breached Blaine's hole and slid a finger inside. Blaine gasped again, and this time he added a "God, yeah..."

He developed a rhythm of fingering and sucking, the speed of which he increased only gradually. He really wanted Blaine to be stretched enough to take his cock by the time he came. He wanted to be able to fuck Blaine right away, and frankly he wasn't sure how he'd even held off this long—his cock ached, and it hadn't had contact with anything yet other than the inside of his own clothes.

And then he realized...yeah, he still really wanted to fuck Blaine more than anything, but he was also really into what he was doing. He really liked not just the whimpers and moans he was pulling from Blaine, but he liked his cock itself, he liked the way it felt in his mouth, he even liked the way it tasted. He wasn't just getting Blaine ready, and he wasn't just returning a favor.

As his sucking become more enthusiastic, so too did his finger fucking. And his grinding against the mattress, he realized. Blaine's steady moaning became broken, and he warned, "I'm gonna come, Sam!" Even as Sam pulled his mouth off and replaced it with his free hand he was thinking about how next time he might even be brave enough to let Blaine come in his mouth.

He wasn't that brave this time, but he was hugely turned on by hearing Blaine cry out in pleasure and watching his jizz shoot up onto his chest. Even better was the way Blaine's head was thrown back against the pillow, his neck arched at an impossible angle, his hair totally savage looking. And his flushed face, as it relaxed after his screams quieted, how blissful it looked... "You're gorgeous, Blaine."

Blaine panted out a weak laugh. "I've never been so wrecked."

"Exactly," Sam said. He moved up so he was half on top of Blaine and trailed a finger down the side of his face. "It's a good look for you."

Blaine reached for Sam and rubbed his bulge through his jeans. Sam jerked back at first out of surprise but then leaned into the touch, pressing himself harder against Blaine's hand. He sucked Blaine's earlobe into his mouth and whispered, "I wanna be inside you so bad."

"Yeah," Blaine said, unbuttoning Sam's jeans for him. "Yeah, fuck me, Sam."

Sam didn't waste any time pulling off the rest of his clothes. He applied some lube to himself and a little more to Blaine and asked if he was ready. Blaine answered enthusiastically that he was, but Sam remembered how he had hurt Blaine last time—totally without meaning to, obviously!—and so he was determined to go super slow this time and watch Blaine carefully for signs of discomfort.

Blaine spread his legs and pulled his knees up to his chest; Sam lay between them and kissed Blaine deeply as he lined himself up to enter his...his boyfriend? Almost? They should wait until they were official—or at least until it wouldn't be cheating—but he was way past the point of conceivably being able to stop, as long as Blaine wanted it too.

He breached him so carefully. Blaine let out just the tiniest gasp. Sam proceeded to push in slowly, so slowly, savoring the tight, warm flesh encasing him. He thought about how Kurt inexplicably didn't want to fuck Blaine. Well, maybe he had by now, but Sam liked to think not, that he was the only one Blaine given this part of himself to. Blaine was Sam's only for everything beyond fully clothed making out, and he wanted to be Blaine's only something.

Blaine began pushing his ass up, trying to get Sam deeper into him. It felt amazing—Sam wouldn't have minded holding still and letting Blaine just keep doing that, but he thought maybe it was a hint that he should be thrusting harder, so he did. And that was even more amazing—once he started thrusting in earnest some primal part of him just took over almost completely. He was still careful, though—he still watched Blaine to make sure he was all right.

And Blaine was all right, clearly. He moaned and bit his lip. He moved in rhythm with Sam. He grew hard again and started stroking his cock. When he said, "Harder, Sam, fuck me harder," Sam let the primal part take over completely and fuck Blaine with complete abandon. He fucked harder and harder until he accidentally slammed Blaine's head against the headboard.

He stopped moving. "Sorry! Are you—"

"It didn't hurt, don't stop."

"It had to hurt."

"I barely noticed it, really. C'mon, please."

Sam maneuvered them down toward the foot of the bed a little and propped and extra pillow against the headboard, just in case. Blaine rested his ankles on Sam's shoulders, and Sam started moving again. He really, really tried to be a little gentler this time, but when Blaine pleaded with him to please just hammer him...well, it was a request he couldn't resist fulfilling. He pounded and pounded and pounded and it was unbelievable. "Fuck...Blaine...awesome..." He barely knew what he was saying, just that he had to let Blaine know somehow how amazing he was.

"Yeah, give it to me," Blaine panted. Then, in a much higher voice, "God, you're gonna make me come again."

Sam beat him to it, his body seizing up the moment Blaine said the word come. A totally animalistic grunt came from deep in his throat as his cock burst and emptied inside Blaine's walls. And then Blaine came too, jerking under and around Sam and squeezing out every drop of his come. He sprayed his chest with a second coating of jizz, and Sam contemplated what it might taste like.

Blaine's muscles went slack all at once. His legs slipped off Sam's shoulders and onto the mattress, and he lay perfectly still except for his heavy breathing. Sam felt the same way Blaine looked; it was all he could do to roll over next to Blaine and rest his head on his boyfriend's (?) chest. That was how they fell asleep.

Blaine was the first to wake up, about an hour and a half later. It was the pain that woke him—he'd slept through his scheduled pain meds, and his eye was bothering him a lot. And his ass. He realized that he shouldn't have told Sam to fuck him quite so hard—the painkillers kept him from noticing at the time that it hurt.

Oh God! He'd let Sam fuck him again. He'd sworn to himself he'd never do that again—what the fuck was he thinking?

The fucking painkillers! They must've messed with his head; he must not have known what he was doing. They were really similar to alcohol, after all. And other drugs, probably, that he'd never used, but bad ones.

Fuck...what was it that Sam had been talking about? That they should confess? That Blaine should break Kurt's heart and reveal what a horrible, lying cheater he was, that they should make everyone hate them both? So that they could be together?

Blaine hadn't agreed, had he? He didn't think so...but he didn't think he had disagreed either. He should have disagreed. Fucking painkillers!

Because he didn't want to break Kurt's heart, and he didn't want everyone to hate him and Sam. And he wasn't even sure he would want to be with Sam, like, as boyfriends. They barely knew each other, except for physically. And he had no reason to think it would work out even if he did want it. Why would Sam think he could handle being in a gay relationship that even their friends wouldn't support because of the cheating?

He scooted out from under Sam and started looking around for his underwear. Sam's eyes fluttered open and he said, "Hey, gorgeous."

"Sam, you can't call me that!" Not having found his boxers, he covered up by holding a pillow in his lap.

"Why?" Sam asked sleepily. "Your hair looks totally sexy like that."

Blaine instinctively touched his hair, realizing it must look the exact opposite of sexy. But that wasn't the point. "Sam, we can't...I hope you don't think..." He took a deep breath before starting over. "We can't ever do this again. We can't...Were you serious about wanting to confess? Because I can't. I don't want to, I mean, and I'm begging you not to..."

Sam looked fully awake now. Awake but crushed. "Yeah, I get it," he said slowly. A long pause followed before he continued, "You don't really want to be with me then?" He was almost looking Blaine in the eye when he said that, but not quite.

Blaine didn't even try to look like he was meeting Sam's eye. He played with a loose thread on his pillowcase and said, "It's not that I...I'm sorry if I...My pain meds! I barely knew what I was doing or saying."

"So I took advantage of you?" Sam gasped.

He sounded appalled, not that Blaine would accuse him of such a thing, but that he might have inadvertently done it. And Blaine didn't think he had—certainly not intentionally, and probably not really at all. "No, no!" Blaine assured him. "You couldn't have known, and it's not like...well, I do regret it, but I don't blame you at all."

"Blaine, I'm so sorry. I—"

"No, no don't be. I enjoyed it, obviously. I remember telling you I wanted it, and I did, I totally did, I just...wasn't thinking clearly, I guess?"

"Still, I'm really sorry. I...I should probably go."

"No, don't...actually, yeah, that's probably best. Can we pretend this didn't happen?"

"Yeah. Sure." Sam got out of Blaine's bed and dressed as quickly as he could. "Feel better, okay? And...I guess I'll see you when you get back."

So it never happened. It was an easy enough thing to pretend, he guessed, at school and stuff. At home he found himself avoiding Kurt more than usual, though it wasn't like Kurt could possibly suspect anything. He was glad he didn't have to be around Blaine—that would have made the whole pretending thing a lot harder.

It would have been almost as hard as convincing himself it never happened. That was tricky. But he did the best he could, and he amped up his determination to get Mercedes back, which seemed like the best route to forgetting. And it seemed to be working! He got her to kiss him on the stage after singing an MJ song together. And when their lips met he was barely thinking about what's-his-name at all.

A/N: Again, I may or may not write another chapter some day. If you'd like to see another chapter, pester Gleeville about it. He knows what he has to do to get one.