Thank you for all the positive feedback. Sorry this was kinda late. I've actually had this done for a while now. It's not as good as the first chapter, but I hope you continue to enjoy it. :) Leave me a review to let me know.
Chapter Two
Nothing quite said good morning like waking up to a completely naked and unfamiliar man lying beside you calling you Princess. But such was the way Quinn Fabray had woken up. She couldn't quite add this to a long list of "strange ways to wake up" or anything, because, quite honestly, nothing quite like this had ever happened before, but it was definitely the strangest way to wake up. In that moment her mind was swimming with hundreds of different ideas and questions. First of all, who the hell was he? And now did he get up into her room? Then she had to ask herself why was he there? Of course that lead to fear and disgust as countless perverted and scary thoughts sunk in. What if he was some kind of serial rapist? Or what if he was an escapee from the insane asylum? Was there even one close enough for that? She honestly didn't care to ponder on that cause only two thoughts were in her head. One, was he gonna try and rape her? And two, where's the damn pepper spray?
Quinn sat lost in these thoughts until she heard a, "Princess?", which caused her to jump away in an instant. Off the bed, Quinn jumped nearly a foot away from it towards her window and continued staring with wide eyes at her bed intruder. Pepper spray! Her heart leapt with joy at the realization that she had some pepper spray in her bag. Quickly, eyes still on the curious looking blonde, who, at this point, was standing and trying to make his way to her, Quinn rummaged through her bag until finding just what he wanted. Just when the naked man was about to round the corner of her bed and approach her, she held up the small spray bottle and, in a shaky and rather weak voice, croaked, "Don't come closer! I will spray you!"
In an instant the blonde man stopped, brow furrowed in confusion. He literally looked as though he found her behavior odd, though he didn't speak up. With her eyes locked onto him, Quinn sucked in a rather sharp breath through her nose as she tried to regain her composure. She couldn't come off as weak. She saw those self defense episodes of the daytime talk shows. She needed him to know she wasn't a weakling that he could easily take advantage of. No. This was Quinn's terrain, she had the upper hand over him here. After a moment passed between them, Quinn spoke up. "Who are you and why are you here?"
She had to admit, Quinn wasn't sure why, when she had him frozen in spot, had full advantage of the situation, she had decided, of all things, to ask who he was and what he was doing there instead of trying to kick him out. Was she giving him an upper hand of sorts here? Was she giving him a window of opportunity to do whatever gruesome thing he had planned for when the beauty woke up? She swallowed back the putrid and dirty taste in her mouth at that thought and tried to keep her hands from shaking. The logical thing that her rational mind was shouting at her to do right then was spray the living shit out of his eyes and shove him out the door, yet she desired an explanation. Besides, at close look… She couldn't help but find him to seem rather… Harmless.
With a cock of her head, Quinn took a moment to really observe her guest and, to her dismay, her serial rapist actually reminded her much of a lost looking puppy, pouting and shaking slightly under her intense gaze, and his features did not scream "Crazy" or "Suspicious" in the slightest bit. His smile, though faded into a cute dog-like pout, was actually rather cute. While his large lips were odd looking, she would admit, his smile was breathtakingly beautiful, and the pout he wore now was no less than adorable if she were being honest. His face was slightly rounded, oddly boyish, yet the line of his jaw was manly. And the mop of blonde hair, that looked as though it may have been died or highlighted, atop his head gave him an odd youthful look, with thick bangs draping over his forehead, and locks of whispy hair flying out by his ears and at the nape of his neck.
Then there were his eyes. His eyes were soft and gentle, like that of an innocent child, and were the deepest green she'd ever seen. Even under the horribly low lighting of her room, the only source of light being from the sun seeping through the drapes over her window, they shone brightly, as if having a light of their own to reflect so brilliantly. It was honestly hard for her to concentrate when looking into them, feeling her head spinning and her heard fluttering at the sight of them alone.
For a moment, Quinn was lost in those green eyes, the owner of which seemed about ready to finally speak up at the sight of her tense body relaxing a bit, but then her gaze dropped down to the rest of her visitor. The only thing that convinced her he was a psycho was the incredibly manly and bare physique of her visitor. His handsome face stood atop and long and broad shouldered body. She would hate to be the first to admit it, but the muscular and well-defined plains of the chest before her were mouthwatering and impressive. The rippling of his abdomen, those hard looking pectorals, the thick broad shoulders, and his large looking arms were all definitely pleasurable to the eye. Were most rapist so damn hot?
Her eyes continued wandering lower until, for a split second, they rested on the organ hanging between his legs. It was then she was brought from her dreaming. Blushing madly, she raised her gaze up to anywhere but him. Her mind was swimming now with the picture of what she just saw. Oh my god, you just stared at his privates! Not that she could be blamed, the man made absolutely no effort to hide it. Yet Quinn, a young lady who had been born into privilege in the South, did not stare at naked men right in the private zone. That was not classy, and definitely not her. Damn her frazzled state and hanging around gay men all the time. Damn this rapist and his sexy body. What was worst about this whole situation was the man didn't seem the slightest bit aroused. Was she supposed to be offended by that as she was? Here she was, the victim of quite possibly a raping, and the man wasn't even ready to go. Was she not pretty?
Quinn shook her head at the realization that her question had gone unanswered and the two had been standing there for far too long. "Well? Go on answer me. Who are you?" she urged with a stronger, firmer voice.
The man seemed to take a moment to consider what she was asking. In an instant, he straightened his body, almost regally, but then bent in a slight bow. "Pardon me, princess," he spoke in a deep voice that sent shivers over her, though not completely in a good way, "I didn't mean to cause any fright. I just couldn't stop myself from coming to see you, and your bed looked awfully inviting. For a moment, I thought I'd have to be the one to kiss you to break a spell. Funny, huh?" He laughed softly. In all honesty, Quinn thought he was making no sense, and she didn't hide that with her wrinkled nose and raised eyebrow. The man sighed. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sam," he said it simply, though proudly, as if the title were of such deep importance.
For a long moment, Sam just stood there, smiling widely and almost expectantly, as if waiting on her to recognize him. Quinn returned the large smile with a vacant expression that made Sam's heart fall and his smile falter. Clearing his throat, he tried to step towards her, only to see her raise the spray bottle. "Don't be afraid, princess, I am here because your heart summoned me. After the kiss in the park, you set my soul free, and I just had to come here to finish the spell. Your heart called me here, and now we've no time to waste." With another step forward, Sam grinned at Quinn. "One kiss can break the spell, princess—One true love's kiss can break all spells and make one whole." Quinn stood frozen in spot, eyes wide though she wasn't sure if it was because of how ridiculous and weird this all sounded or if she was simply entrapped by those emerald eyes. Vaguely familiar emerald eyes…
Before she could think to wonder where she'd seen them, Sam was before her, closing in on her and gently pushing down her hands. She felt one of his warm hands cup her chin and tilt her head back. She just let him, let him move up to her and force her to look up at him. She saw a brilliant and wide smile grow on his face and she wasn't sure what to think of it. Should she find it suspicious or just appreciate the beauty of it? A war of rationality and emotion was taking place within her as she looked up into the handsome face, one that had her so distracted she barely noticed the face leaning closer towards her or the slight pucker of lips until his nose brushed up against hers.
Quinn was faced with two options: Let the odd stranger talking about "spells" and "true love's kisses" steal a kiss from her lips, or kick him in the groin and get away before he had the chance to do anything else. In that moment, her rational mind overcame all functions of her body, reminding her he could be on the verge of taking full advantage of her weak state. She spared no moment as her knee moved upwards into his groin, causing a high pitched yelp of pain to escape the throat of the blonde man. Jumping back a bit, her next move was to raise her hands, just as Sam's head flew up and he started to speak, saying, "Princes—" but the last syllable was drowned out in his own cry of pain as, without any mercy, Quinn clicked the bottle's top and sent a spray of stinging hot liquid right into those beautiful emerald eyes.
Shrieking in pain, Sam's hands left his aching in pain crotch and flew to his eyes, as his pathetically stumbled around the room. Quinn watched, heart racing, as he hit a small table corner, tripped over her coat on the floor. At this point, Arthur was awake and barking at the closed door. That combined with the sounds of Sam thumping around and crying in pain made for quite loud noise.
This was Quinn's chance, as she now had the upper hand on him, and she wasted no time in putting her plan to get the man out in action. Swiftly, she ran up behind him and began shoving, pushing him out the bedroom of her door and down the narrow hallway towards the living room and entryway of her apartment. Along the way, she shouted about "indecency" and "calling the cops" if he ever were to try and climb his way into her bedroom again, letting him know that he was a fool for "daring to even try and mess with Quinn Fabray". With a violent shove from the small blonde woman, which nearly knocked her down more than it could to him, Sam was pushed out the door. He turned immediately and tried opening his eyes, ignoring the watery and stinging sensation in them as his blurry vision befell Quinn. "But, wait, princess, the kiss!" His unfinished exclamation was ignored with the slamming of a door. Heartbroken in and instant, confused, and in searing pain, Sam's only solution was to walk down the four flights of stairs from room 4A until he was out in the sunlight of day.
"Hurry, Blaine!" Kurt Hummel urged his boyfriend along, grasping his hand from behind and tugging. Blaine's only response was to let out a laugh, a low and gravely one from deep in his chest. Squeezing his boyfriend's hand, the short dark haired male followed after the other eagerly.
For the second time in a row, Quinn had been late. While she had explained the night prior why she hadn't been on time without notice, this still bothered the owners of the theater company—especially Kurt. Kurt liked to say he and Quinn were very close, closer than she was to any of her acquaintances she had made sine arriving to New York perhaps four or so years ago. The soprano, by which he was most notably known for, was somewhat the best girlfriend she had around New York, however he was much better than her friends from back home in Charleston, and she honestly couldn't imagine a life without Kurt in it. He was special, her dearest friend, and today he was quite worried for her.
That was why he and Blaine Anderson, the other owner of the theater company comprised of only gay drag queens, as well as his darling boyfriend, were on their way to her apartment building. It wasn't far from the theater, hence the walking, but it seemed Kurt was in a desperate hurry, knocking down people and causing some anger as he tugged and pulled Blaine through the crowds of New Yorkians.
"Sweetheart, we should slow down," Blaine, ever sweet Blaine, tried to convince his boyfriend, who's only response was to speed up their pace.
"No time," Kurt replied, "We need to hurry up and find out what the hell is going on with Quinnie! She is never this late."
Finally arriving to the apartment building, Kurt was about to rush into the front glass doors but stopped in his tracks, nearly causing Blaine to bump into him. Any complaint from his brunette boyfriend was drowned out as the large sapphire eyes of Kurt Elizabeth Hummel settled on the figure hunched over on the first step. Long and lean, muscular seemingly everywhere, sat a man with a mop of blonde hair and a physique that instantly reminded him of the creature from Rocky Horror. It was a shame to Kurt that he got no look at the man's face, which was buried in his hands, but he did get a look at much more. He wouldn't be the first to openly ogle a man—okay, he would—but he was at that moment. Because this muscular blonde… Was naked.
Yes, sitting on the front stoop of the apartment building, of which Kurt forgot why he was going to, was a naked mopey man. Kurt was curious as to what the face looked like until it raised itself up a bit, to reveal watery and breathtaking emerald eyes. Excitement rose up within him and, in a flash second, Kurt was tugging at Blaine's elbow. "Feast your eyes on that fine piece of man specimen," Kurt cooed lowly in his boyfriend's ears. Both eyes fell upon Sam, who had seemed to notice them through his blurry vision.
Blaine frowned. To him, the man looked like a depressing and handsome youngster who may have had his heartbroken, not caring he was in violation of a law by being naked in the public eye. To Kurt, however, the man looked like the tool that could be used for those dirty fantasies he'd recently been sharing with Blaine in order to spark up their dulling love life.
To Sam, the two men looked oddly curious. One was short, with very dark hair that looked shiny under the sun, though he wasn't sure why. It was as if he'd put some sort of grease in it to make it sit in place. His eyebrows were thick, the shape of triangles, and sat atop two very deep chocolate colored eyes, that seemed rather sad. The other man was a bit more interesting. His state of dress was odd, because Sam wasn't entirely sure why a man was wearing both a skirt and a pair of pants. The culture of this place was rather odd to him. But that wasn't all that caused Sam to stare at him a bit longer. His built was practically that of a woman, though Sam could tell that was no woman. Thin and lean, his features were soft and feminine, even in the face. His nose was rather pointed and his face was rounded. He looked barely a boy yet was obviously old enough to be considered a man. His hair, a chocolate brown color, was perfectly placed over his head and set deep in his porcelain face were two sapphires that passed as eyes.
The thing to mostly interest Sam about the second male was the way he stared at him, and, for a moment, he wondered if he should be scared for his life as he listened into the hushed conversation being held by the two men standing but a foot away.
"Blaine, he's a naked hot man moping on the steps of an apartment. Clearly Allah is answering my prayers for us to get more adventurous." Sam didn't know what he was talking about, but the way the feminine looking man looked at him reminded him of a lioness about to charge on a gazelle. He was praying this wasn't the hag that got Hansel and Gretel cause his legs simply couldn't be cooked and passed off as yummy frog legs anymore.
"I realize he's a naked hot man, but don't you find that slightly weird? Maybe we shouldn't pay him any attention." Oh Sam definitely liked this male, he was less scary looking, wasn't giving him "hungry eyes".
The other, the lioness, just rolled his eyes at the sweeter male and began taking steps forward. Sam's heart picked up with fear. The hag's going to eat me. He watched as the man came close to him, offering him an oddly friendly smile. "Had a hard night, sir?" He let out an oddly airy laugh. Sam just sat staring up at him. He was an odd fellow, even his voice sounded much like a woman's. Not that there was anything wrong with that, Sam was just taken highly off guard as he stared at him.
"Not much of a talker, I see," Kurt said awkwardly, taking a seat beside the blonde against Blaine's hushed protests. He offered a hand, staring the blonde boy right in the eyes. "Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, the greatest star in New York. Just call me Kurt," he tried to smile widely and break whatever awkward ice was between him and the blonde, but only received a vacant stare in reply. "Don't shake hands where you're from?" He laughed awkwardly at him.
In an instant the blonde went from looking highly uncomfortable to calming himself. He reached over and grasped the soft hand, shaking gently. "Sam," he answered. "And I'm sorry, I'm just not of high spirits right now," the man said, returning his face to his eyes to rub at the pain that he still felt in his eyes. It hadn't quite overcome the heartache of being thrown out by his true love, but damn did his eyes hurt like hell. This did not go unnoticed by Kurt.
"I'm sorry, hon. Why don't you tell Kurt what's wrong? Tell me why you're crying." There was an odd tone to his voice that Sam couldn't quite place, though Blaine could sense the flirty edge to his boyfriend's voice. New York had brought out the worst in his high school sweetheart, who was slightly more timid back home in Ohio when they were the only gays around. Now, though, in New York, Kurt was much more flamboyant, more confident in his skin and, if Blaine didn't find that so damn sexy, he'd considered it a sin.
"My love didn't want me. And I cry only because she sprayed something in my eyes." Kurt's heart fell at "she". Clearly this man was not going to be fulfilling his hot threesome fantasies, but he definitely did feel sympathetic. With all sexual prowl through out the window, he frowned and faced the man more appropriately, wondering what could've lead to a crying naked man sitting alone on an apartment stoop.
He had been so close to asking until Blaine piped up with, "Hon, people are staring. Let's go." Typical shy Blaine, not entirely in his skin and urging to get done what they needed to get done.
Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine and motioned to Sam. "I'm here to listen to my friend Sam talk about his heartache. Either you shut up and listen or you go home." Blaine's only option was to sigh and sit on the other side of Sam.
Sam and Blaine took a brief moment to introduce themselves by name before Sam was urged by Kurt to continue. "Here I was, waiting on my princess to wake up and grant my true love's kiss, one that would break off the spell and make me whole, when she kicked me down below and sprayed some sort of burning hot water in my eyes, causing the most infuriating pain, might I add, and sending me out the door without giving me a chance to explain that I have very little time!" He groaned.
Blaine and Kurt exchanged odd looks before they turned their gazes back to Sam. Was he for real? Blaine was highly confused by it all. This man was literally declaring he was a frog that was turned into a human all to gain a kiss from a woman. A woman who, supposedly, lived in the same building as Quinn. He'd heard Quinn speak of her strange neighbors, but he wondered what nut job this boy belonged to.
Kurt, on the other hand, was eating it all up. How adorable could it be that the naked blonde man thought himself to be like a Disney prince? Maybe they were doing something dirty, some kind of role-play, and he was still in character or something, but Kurt couldn't help but find him to be the most endearing and charming person he'd ever met. Here he was, moping about true love's kiss and rambling off a story about being a frog turned into a human all for a kiss and having limited time to get that beloved kiss. It sounded like a fairy tale in the making and he loved it. "Who's your princess?" he asked, once more ignoring a hiss of protest from Blaine.
Sam's head lifted up, his watery eyes full of deep affection as he spoke. "She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said, Kurt accessing the low twang in his voice, something highly Southern sounding, as he spoke. "She is the sun and I am her earth, revolving around her and yearning for her warmth. She is the sea and I the lonely sea man, looking for a vast water to explore. She is my maiden and I her lovesick fool." He was poetic and sweet and charming and gorgeous. Curse the woman who threw him out, Kurt found Sam, while somewhat strange, to be an utter catch. He was all for talking smack to the woman when, in response to Blaine's simple question of "What's her name", Sam's response was, "Quinn. Quinn Fabray."
In that moment, the shorter male, Blaine, grasped Kurt's wrist and pulled him away from the stoop where Sam moped. Sam listened into the low hisses of the two men as they argued.
"Okay, now I'm done. This nut was messing with Quinn!"
"Maybe he was her way to cope with her heartbreak? I'm just assuming he's still in character for some dirty roleplay…"
"No, he's strange, Kurt. He literally believes he's a frog prince and that he needs Quinn's kiss in order to stay human!"
The hisses continued but Sam drowned them out, resuming his moping state. How could Quinn ignore him and throw him out like that? He did exactly as he was supposed to. He went straight to the girl whose kiss brought him to life, changed him into the man he once was long ago. He waited years for this moment and she kicked him out as if he were some crazy man. But for heaven's sake, he wasn't crazy! Sam was truly what he said, and his honorable morals kept him from lying about it. Sighing, he stood up. No sense in sitting there, right? He had to go up and demand Quinn hear him out. Maybe them she would understand and realize her love for him. With hope in his heart, Sam set out to do that.
Before he made it far, he felt a pair of hands grasp his arms, pulling him back. "Oh no you don't," Kurt said, gently shoving Sam against the wall. He gave Kurt and Blaine a look of confusion and annoyance and both males sighed. "We know what you're trying to do, mister! You're trying to go up to Quinn and take advantage of her. Well listen up, sir, my boyfriend talked me out of your charm and I'm not about to let you do anything to my Quinnie." He placed his hands on his hips and glared at Sam. Sam wasn't sure what he was talking about, and gave him a rather blank stare in reply.
For a moment, both men just stood there staring. That was until Kurt sighed and lost his serious resolve, looking at Blaine pleadingly. "I'm just not convinced, Blaine! Look at him. He's clearly not a rapist or anything. He looks so damn lost…"
Blaine had rolled his eyes at that, but once he looked back at Sam he was at a loss for words. The boy's eyes, so vibrant and green, portrayed just what Kurt was seeing. This Sam, however strange, was not the kind of man they were thinking. In fact, he almost looked genuine, as if the silly stories he'd been spitting out were true…
"We can't just leave him here. No matter how weird he sounds… I think he actually loves her," Kurt said, soon interrupted by a voice that wasn't his boyfriend's.
"I do." Both looked to Sam, who gave them the most sincere look they'd ever witnessed.
Kurt just stared at him for a long moment before moving to take off the skirt he wore over his pants. Quickly, he shimmied out of the black cloth and handed it to Sam. "Cover up, darling," he said, before turning to Blaine. "Give him your jacket." Before Blaine could complain about how expensive it was and such, Kurt gave him "the look", the one his boyfriend never refused. With a groan and a string of words muttered beneath his breath, Blaine shed his jacket and handed it to the male who had struggled to pull the skirt up comfortable on his waist. Pulling the jacket on and offering thanks, Sam smiled at the two.
"Why are we doing this?" Blaine asked, looking at Kurt. He could see an odd passionate fire burning in his boyfriend's eyes.
"Because Quinnie needs a Prince Charming," Kurt replied silently before turning to Sam. Hand on the blonde's elbow, he lead him out of the apartment building before hailing a cab. Whoever he was, whatever silly story he had to share, Kurt was determined to groom this man into someone Quinn would not be able to resist, someone perfect for her.
Boy he had a feeling he had his work cut out for him.
Despite the oddity that was her morning, Quinn went through her normal routine to get ready. She was late, and she cursed that Sam or whatever for that. Kurt and Blaine would be curious and concerned as to why she was so late, but that didn't run through her mind as she grabbed a coffee from the nearby Starbucks and worked her way to 47th and the theater. Along the way her mind wandered back to green eyes and true love's kiss, though she tired with desperation to just ignore these thoughts. It was with no luck, since Quinn was far too engrossed in the strange young man who visited her that morning. She had been fast to assume he was insane and quite possibly looking to take advantage of the young woman when least expected, yet now she was beginning to rethink her assessment of him. The things he said, the look in his eyes… He seemed all too innocent and she was beginning to wonder if it was really necessary for her to have pepper sprayed him and kicked him in the groin.
"Probably," she sighed audibly, "He was probably looking to cop a feel anyway." She was slightly convinced she'd only said that to calm her nerves, but that didn't do the job much for her. She was still far too curious as to what his intentions really were in her bedroom that morning. She couldn't dwell on that for far too long, though, as she now approached the theater.
Entering, Quinn was expecting the stage to be alight with music and director's calls as the cast performed another dress rehearsal of West Side Story, but such wasn't the case. In fact, Quinn was greeted by laughter, gasps, and calls of surprise, as well as an somewhat familiar voice recalling a story…
"And then she had the audacity to spray my eyes with hot water! I tell you, madams, she was not a kind woman. Not nearly open to the idea that maybe, just maybe, true love was right before her. All I wanted was a kiss! A true love's kiss!"
Bile rose in her throat the realization of who owned that deep voice. It was Sam, her bed intruder. He was here, in her workplace. He had to have been stalking her, how else would he know? It freaked her out to no end, and Quinn quickly wondered if she could find Kurt and Blaine without Sam noticing her so that she could call the caps and get the psycho out of there. A psych ward somewhere must be missing him anyway. Her hopes at getting him escorted by the law enforcement were crushed when she recognized Kurt's high-pitched laughs amongst the ones laughing in response to Sam's wild story. It was only then that Quinn realized, at the mention of being shoved out, was the young man telling the whole company, her dear friends and colleagues, the story of their meeting that morning. And instead of the men wondering what freak would sneak into a woman's home naked like he did, they were laughing, completely entertained by it.
Heart heavy and jaw clenched, Quinn raised her chin as she strolled onto the stage, greeted with the sight of a fully dressed cast of actors—saved for Blaine and Kurt—sitting around the stage and a young and handsome blonde man standing atop a set of risers to tell his story. She had to stop walking when she saw him. Sam was fully dressed now, wearing a light blue colored button up, sleeves rolled casually to the elbows, beneath a wool camel vest and a pair of dark brown trousers and shiny brown shoes. Fully dressed, Quinn found she could appreciate just how handsome that face of his was more now than before, and was caught dead in her tracks just staring at his smiling face.
She had gone unnoticed for a long moment until Sam's gaze fell on her, and her breath caught in her throat at that large and happy grin spreading over his face. However, she had to tear her gaze from him when she heard Kurt declare a rather shocked sounding "Quinnie!" while crossing the stage to her. Blaine followed behind like the lovesick puppy he was, but Quinn paid little attention to them or the worried glances they spared her. Her eyes were back on Sam, who seemed the happiest man alive solely at the sight of her. Ignoring Kurt and Blaine as they tried to speak to her in hushed towns, Quinn walked straight towards the risers, a fiery look in her honey colored eyes that matched the burning sensation in her chest. The quickening of her heart at the sight of that silly smile of his was no match for her anger as Quinn shouted over all the laughter and idle chitchat on the stage. "What are you doing here? Did you know I worked here?" Her tone was venomous and her glare deadly. It caused Sam to shiver, and not in delight.
Kurt and Blaine followed up behind Quinn, speaking lowly to calm her, but she raised a hand to silence them, immediately granting all mumbling and murmuring to cease on the spot. Sam was put on the spot now, and he was expected to answer her. Looking back at her angered eyes, he swallowed before shaking his head. "I didn't know you worked here," he answered sincerely and sweetly, childlike innocence shining off of him.
Quinn resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. He had to have known. Cleary he was obsessed with her. Why? She had no clue, but she knew a stalker when she saw one. She could hear Kurt try to speak, but spoke over him. "Then what are you doing here? If not to follow me around and catch me at a vulnerable moment you pig!" Sam seemed taken back by that, though it was not him who responded to the question.
"Quinnie," Kurt's calm and even voice called from behind. The blonde faced the soprano, ready to shout at him for interrupting, but was beat by Kurt's voice answering, "This is my cousin, Sam Evans. He's visiting from the South. He's actually here to share the storyline to the next production we plan on doing. An original actually… A Frog Prince from Central Park." Kurt let out that awkward little laugh of his, staring up into Quinn's unbelieving eyes. He swallowed before pulling her aside. "Look," he spoke lowly, for no one else but himself, Quinn and Blaine to hear, "I'm sorry about this morning, okay? My cousin saw you leave the theater, and he was instantly smitten. He declared you his muse and had to follow you in order to come up with the story."
It sounded ridiculous to Quinn, and her only response was a not so hushed hiss of, "So he followed me home and lay naked in my bed until morning, and then had the decency to try and kiss me?"
Kurt had to think quickly to cover for their odd friend, who watched the scene in confusion. "He's an artist, Quinn! They have weird methods. I know I should've warned you about him earlier but, really, he's harmless. I mean, look at him!" They all quickly peered over to Sam, who offered a small and confused smile. Quinn sighed. She hated to admit it, but Kurt was right, that boy looked innocent as a baby. Kurt seemed to sense this and sighed internally in relief. "Look, just… Forget it ever happened, okay? I won't let him do anything along those lines ever again. Really. Scout's honor and such."
"You were never a boys scout," Quinn interjected, causing an eye roll from Kurt.
"Whatever, you get my point," the soprano said, "Just don't give him any more crap. Really. It was all under artistic vision and he's sorry."
It was Quinn's turn to roll her eyes as she began turning away, her gaze still on Kurt. "I could argue that he's more sorry I hurt him than he is sorry he did anything, but I couldn't care less right now. I'm here to let you know I'll be taking a league of absence for a month."
This caught Sam's attention. Ignoring the others in the room—all of which Sam through were actual women and did not know were men like him—Sam turned his full attention on Quinn as Kurt asked, "Wait, why?"
"I need to go home to Charleston. I have no until the twenty first," Quinn replied.
The twenty-first? What could Quinn have to do before the Equinox? Sam wondered. He furrowed his brow, stepping closer to the group, as Blaine asked, "You aren't going for him, are you?"
"Of course it's for him! If I don't stop the wedding before then, I'm going to lose the one man I've ever loved." Quinn was about to continue when she bumped into a tall and hard body. Looking over her shoulder, she blinked and blushed at the realization that she backed up into Sam—a rather confused and shocked looking Sam. She quickly pulled away from him, sending a confused and irritated glance of her own in his direction, as she said, and "If I'm going to win Finn's heart back, I need to leave now" Her voice trailed off as she saw an odd glimmer of sadness overcome and cloud up those beautiful emerald eyes of Sam's. She almost frowned in reply, but caught herself last minute. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to Kurt and Blaine.
"Quinnie, sweetie, I know that you're unhappy, but you have to let that go. Finn chose Rachel. He loves her and is going to marry her. I'm sorry, Q, but that's just how it is. You need to accept that," Kurt tried, but stubborn Quinn shook her head and glared at him.
"No. I won't accept it until I know for a fact he doesn't want me." From behind her, Sam was frowning deeply, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach for the second time that day. Of course the girl had rejected him that morning. She didn't love Sam, she loved another—a "Finn", whoever that could be, though he figured, with a name like that, he was some kind of enchanted fish or something. Nonetheless, Quinn's heart belonged to another, and that killed him. Now he was only reminded he had no chance with her…
"What are you going to do?" Blaine asked, causing Sam to pay attention to the scene unfolding before him again rather than stay lost in his growing depression.
Quinn casted a side-glance to Sam oddly before turning full attention back on Blaine. "I'm going to run to Charleston and tell him I love him and hope he does the right thing and picks me," she answered matter-of-factly, raising her chin slightly. "Finn will see, he's making a huge mistake and he should be with me." Confidence poured from her voice as she spoke and Sam wasn't sure whether to admire this quality in the woman he was in deep for or whether to feel sad it had nothing to do with him but had all to do with another.
"Quinnie, don't," Kurt tried to reason, but Quinn cut him off.
"This isn't up for discussion. I'm just stopping in to say this. Now I have to go and pack and rush to the airport or something." She cast one last glance at Sam, brows knitted in the center at his sad expression, before she turned and began walking to the stage door exit.
"…Well that was fortunate," Kurt said bitterly and sarcastically. He felt Blaine's arm circle his shoulders and squeeze his far shoulder before he turned to look at Sam, who was staring after where Quinn disappeared to with a longing glance.
"What am I going to do now?" Sam asked sadly, stepping more towards the two men, though he still faced the exit where Quinn disappeared. "He heart belongs to another. I can't compete with that," he said. He felt all hope leave him and began to mentally prepare himself to live the life of a frog for eternity.
That was until Kurt spoke up.
"No. We're not giving up like that. Finn's not the guy for her. They would've been together by now," he said, crossing his arms and staring in the same direction as the exit with a rather thoughtful look in his eyes. Blaine could already hear the gears turning in that head of his, knowing Kurt was a fast thinker but was often known for wild and somewhat crazy plots. Whatever could Kurt Hummel be thinking up now?
"Well what I am I supposed to do? She doesn't want me," Sam sighed.
Kurt's head snapped up and Blaine knew what that meant. "Yet," Kurt said thoughtfully, "She doesn't want you yet." He stepped forward a bit before spinning on his heels, looking back at a confused Blaine and a heartbroken Sam. "As to what you're going to do, it's quite simple really," Kurt answered, a mischievous smirk growing over his think pink lips. "Chase her to Charleston, South Carolina and show her just who she belongs with, and get yourself that true love's kiss you've been craving."
"After all," Kurt said, an even more dangerously devious glint of mischief twinkling in his sapphire eyes, "I need an ending to my fairy tale production I'm putting on."
Sam blinked as he heard Kurt's idea. It seemed a bit much, like a far fetch to chase after the girl whose heart belonged to another, but it was better than sitting around and waiting on spring to come and change him back. That last thing he needed was eternity as a frog. Swallowing, Sam nodded slowly.
"Okay. Let's go then."