Author's Note: This chapter is heavily Sam-centric, not because I don't love writing Kurt, but because I'm interested in Sam's point-of-view of the other characters. Also, please give a warm welcome to mini-BAMF!Emma, because I think she could be a lot more interesting if only someone would simply write her that way. Finally, Puck is kind of a woobie here, but I think it works for the arc he's currently undergoing and he's only woobiefied with certain people.
Santana finally pulled her mouth away from Kurt's own, rearing back her head and sharply gasping. Panting heavily, she stared into his placid eyes and realized that while he had enjoyed the activity, he'd had no real physical response. He'd liked kissing her, but he wasn't aroused. The only thing that bothered her was the fact that she wasn't bothered.
It wasn't as though she had believed she could turn him straight or bisexual, or that she would be his singular exception to his affirmed sexuality, but she supposed she had counted on the fact that her unparalleled ability to satisfy a man would elicit something other than a pleasant smile and slightly red cheeks.
She wasn't hurt, nor was she annoyed or disappointed. She was merely curious.
She also wanted him even more than she had previously, which, for her, was quite a lot. She was frustrated that she couldn't have him, but also realized that if she could, he'd hold very little allure for her. What she had said before her performance was true: it sucked that the one guy she truly wanted would never be hers. It wasn't because he found her unattractive or that he didn't like her. It wasn't because they weren't friends or had nothing in common.
It was just who he was, and that person was completely and biologically unavailable to her.
That said, the boy had serious skills; he was a total natural. Brittany hadn't been exaggerating when she'd claimed he was the best she'd ever had.
She hadn't regretted kissing him just then, nor had she regretted kissing him that morning before school. She would never regret kissing Kurt Hummel, and she would definitely be kissing him again. He made her feel safe and wanted and cared for in a way no man would ever be able to replicate. She almost hated him for that.
He tilted his head and smiled gently at her. "I love you, too."
She hugged him for a long moment, something she had never done with another guy. Embracing another had always seemed too intimate, too revealing, far more than any act of sex. She had never been a very tactile person and could tell that Kurt wasn't either, which was how she knew he would understand that she simply required comfort and had no further agenda. It was simply one more reason she loved him. She didn't say the words, but she knew he didn't require them.
She had never been one of those girls who equated sex with love. She knew one was a biological urge and the other a concoction of emotion and a variety of factors which could never be properly investigated or explained. She was sexually attracted to him not just because he was gorgeous but because of who he was, because of what he meant to her. Outside of Brittany, she'd never before had that experience and it was as frightening as it was compelling. Kurt Hummel was a heady mixture of the sacred and the profane. Somehow, she knew that he would alter her life in some incredible fashion that was at once both tangible and divine.
She was almost looking forward to it.
"See?" Puck asked, posing the question to the entire room. "I told you guys when I saw them making out this morning: hot. It shouldn't be, but it totally is."
Rachel had blinked several times during the course of the kiss, just to ensure she was actually awake and not having a seizure. She glanced over at Finn, who was red in the face and slightly pouting, and she wondered just why that was. She knew Kurt's crush had caused Finn to question many things, but she didn't think his sexuality was among them. She still didn't, so it must have been something else.
Or was it someone else?
She knew that Finn and Santana had a single date last term but, as far she knew, as far as Finn had told her, nothing had come of it. She believed him then and she believed him now. Santana was just too obvious and too forward – too strong – for Finn. That could only mean that it was Kurt's behavior which Finn found so troubling. But why?
She knew that people tended to desexualize Kurt. Yes, he was gay and therefore made some people uncomfortable, but he was rarely regarded as being a sexual creature. He was cold, aloof, and indifferent. His crush on Finn had been the exception, not the rule. Still, there was also something about Kurt that made you want to protect him and safeguard his innocence, as though he were some poor orphaned waif. But was he really so innocent? Regardless of his sexual orientation, Kurt was still a teenage boy.
She wondered if Kurt derived any sexual satisfaction from kissing women. Brittany had happily announced last term that she and Kurt had made out, more than pleased by his performance. Rachel had doubted that Kurt's experience had been similar, but perhaps she'd been wrong. Why would he continue to kiss girls if he didn't like doing so? Sexuality was fluid, after all. Perhaps Kurt enjoyed kissing girls, as long as it was contained within certain boundaries. Regardless, he was in rarefied company. It wasn't often that Brittany or Santana extolled the prowess of anyone other than themselves or each other.
Finn decided that watching Kurt and Santana kiss was rather like rubbernecking: you knew you should look away but, for whatever reason, you just couldn't. He didn't know why they were doing it. It wasn't as though Kurt could get anything from it, no matter how obvious it was that Santana was happy to offer him whatever he wanted. It was weird and unsettling to see Kurt in a sexual light, even though he knew nothing would happen between Kurt and Santana, or Kurt and any girl.
Was that why he'd reacted so strongly to Sam, because of the possibilities the other boy represented? Of course, he was assuming things. Sam didn't seem gay, but outside of Kurt and television, Finn didn't really have any experience as to what being gay meant. Kurt was pretty stereotypical, but Finn knew that didn't necessarily mean anything.
He flashed back on his hookup with Santana last term. He had slept with her, but hadn't made out with her. Whenever he had tried to kiss her during their time together, she had pulled away and refused. It had made him think of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, when she had told Richard Gere that she didn't kiss on the mouth. Not that Santana was a prostitute, but she was a champion athlete in the sexual Olympics. She hadn't wanted him to kiss her. He had seen her kiss Puck before, but that had been, in his estimation, a battle for dominance or a warning to other girls seeking to encroach upon her territory, not a sign of affection. The only other person he'd seen Santana kiss was Brittany, and everyone knew what was going on there except for Santana.
Mercedes regarded the kiss with solemn eyes, angry with both Kurt and Santana for no real discernible reason. She couldn't understand it. She hadn't minded when he had made out with Brittany last spring, so what was the problem now? She knew it wasn't going anywhere, that it was likely organized for some reason she didn't yet know. She also wasn't jealous; as badly as she was crushing on Kurt, her feelings for him weren't very sexual. Yes, he was gorgeous, but she had never really imagined them being intimate. The thought of it almost made her burst into hysterical laughter.
She supposed she thought that Santana was using Kurt for some reason, perhaps to make Brittany jealous. Although when she spared a glance at the blond cheerleader, it was apparent that Brittany was jealous not because Santana was making out with someone else, but because Kurt was. That brought an entirely different and strange connotation to whatever the hell was going on.
Mike, Tina, and Artie were simply amused, and not a little turned on. Puck was correct: Kurt and Santana kissing was hot. The reasons behind it weren't compelling enough for them to consider.
Rachel cleared her throat. "The bell rang a few seconds ago."
Kurt and Santana disentangled themselves from each other and retrieved their belongings. He gave her a soft look which she almost returned, kissed Brittany's cheek, and took Quinn's hand.
He was going to have to talk with Quinn, probably sooner rather than later. She had been pulling away from him, discreetly of course, but she should have known that he would notice anyway. He hadn't wanted to interfere in whatever problems she was having with Mercedes, but sensed he would have to swallow his reticence and address it. The last thing he needed was two more of his friends at each other's throats.
His summer had been so relatively free of drama that he found he was ill-suited to deal with it now, as well as slightly resentful to be presented with so much of it upon his return. He couldn't believe he had once thrived on drama and gossip. After being away from it for the past few months, he found he hadn't missed it; indeed, he viewed it now as a waste of time. He would have preferred to stay out of his friends' issues, but knew that option wouldn't be available to him for very long. He would either be forced to step in, or they would drag him in without his consent.
He kissed Mercedes' cheek, could tell she wanted to say something about Quinn but would hold her tongue until they were free to discuss it, and promised to see her at lunch. He whispered into her ear and she rolled her eyes and nodded at his request.
"Of course," she said, affronted that he felt he even had to ask.
He gave her a grateful smile and watched as she sauntered from the room.
He raised a brow when Noah tried to hug him but allowed it, briefly, before shooing the other boy away. Never would he have pegged Noah Puckerman as a touchy-feely guy, but it was apparently the case. He himself wasn't that type of personality, though he sometimes wished he was. Of course, it wasn't as though there had ever before been a line of people waiting to offer him physical affection. He then smiled at Mike and Tina, bent over to whisper something to Artie, nodded at Finn and Rachel, and crossed back to Sam.
Kurt waited until everyone but his fellow Cheerios had left the choir room.
"Are you ready to go?" he asked Sam.
Sam nodded.
Kurt smiled. "We're going to walk you to your next class."
Sam blushed lightly. "You don't have to do that."
"Yes, we do," Kurt insisted. "First, you don't know where the classroom is located. We have our respective math classes now, which are also taught in the science wing; you're right on our way. Second, it's imperative that you be seen with us, so that when certain people first lay their eyes on you, they understand that you're untouchable."
Sam's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"Darwin's law rules this school, Hot Lips," Santana said. "Only the fittest survive. In the junior class, that means myself, Tink, Brit, and Quinn. Everyone knows who we are. We're the Four Horsemen, the leaders of our class, for both the right and the wrong reasons. Further, no one messes with the Cheerios, and we're the four most important members. Once you're seen leaving this room, word will spread that the new kid might also possibly be a new Gleek. Glee is not a popular or respected club here."
He nodded. "Kurt warned me."
Quinn raised an eyebrow. "And you came anyway?"
He shrugged diffidently, slightly coloring. "It sounded cool."
She smirked. It was more likely that Sam simply wished to spend more time with Kurt. "Further, being seen with two unattached Cheerios will up your stud reputation and negate any rumors about you being in Kurt's company. Because there will be rumors."
Sam soured. "I don't give a shit."
Santana cocked her head. "Impressive."
Brittany and Quinn nodded.
"I appreciate the sentiment, Sam," Kurt said softly, "but please trust us when we tell you that first impressions matter. You cannot allow these people any more fodder than absolutely necessary. Rumor spreads faster in this school than social diseases in underdeveloped nations."
Santana snorted and Quinn coughed.
"Undoubtedly," he continued, "you were seen this morning in the administrative office and with Ms. Pillsbury. Rumors have already begun that there is a new upperclassman at McKinley. You were next seen with me in homeroom, which narrowed it down to the junior class. By now, word has spread to all upperclassmen that I'm your Peer Mentor. When you leave this room, a host of new rumors will spread like wildfire.
"They will see you and they will talk. They will see you in my company and they will talk. They will see you in the company of Quinn and Santana and they will talk. The dueling speculation as to whether you're being romanced by me, or by Santana or Quinn, will efficiently neutralize the more vocal and sinister aspects of the resultant rumors."
"Is this real life?" Sam demanded.
Santana laughed derisively. "No. It's high school."
He sighed. "So how do we do this?"
Kurt nodded. "Brittany will exit first. She's universally liked and will draw the least fire. Santana will follow. They always travel together, so no one will question it. You will leave next, with me directly behind you and Quinn guarding the rear flank."
"I'd love to guard your rear flank," Quinn purred.
He grinned and rolled his eyes.
Brittany frowned. "Do you know you just arranged that order by hair color?"
Kurt nodded. "Of course. Power differentials are important to consider."
She shrugged and twirled her ponytail around a finger. "Okay! I'll leave now. See you out there!" She skipped out of the room, Santana following.
Sam took a deep breath.
"Gird your loins," Kurt drawled.
Sam tried not to blush and left.
Kurt adjusted his posture and then stuck his nose in the air and a sneer on his face before trailing after the other boy. Quinn chuckled darkly and gave chase.
Will stared after them, blinking owlishly. "What the fuck goes on in this school?"
Sam had thought Kurt was being ridiculous, until he stepped out into the hallway.
Santana and Brittany were patiently waiting for him, and he could tell that the students in the immediate vicinity were curious to see for what or whom the cheerleaders were waiting. As soon as he exited the choir room, the loud din of voices immediately dwindled to a dull roar and Sam felt scrutinizing eyes upon him. He shuffled his way toward Santana, who looked at him with cool eyes.
He then heard whispers break out and turned to see Kurt – an aloof and guarded Kurt – approaching him, with an arrogant Quinn following.
Wow. Kurt really hadn't been kidding.
"Ready?" Kurt whispered under his breath.
"What do I do?" Sam mumbled.
"All five of us are going to turn to the left and walk down the hallway together, side-by-side. Look straight ahead, but say nothing. Acknowledge no one. Don't let them smell fear. We're right here with you."
Sam nodded tightly.
"Do keep up," Kurt further advised, "but don't try to mimic our walk. It will do you no favors, and I don't think you could get the hang of it right off the bat."
Sam was bewildered but nodded again. "Is the hallway big enough?"
Kurt smirked. "Just watch." He paused. "We're a go."
Immediately he and the Cheerios turned on their heel with perfect precision, and Sam raced to turn with them.
Santana and Brittany linked pinkies, Kurt and Quinn interlaced their fingers, and Sam felt somewhat bereft that none of them were touching him, though he had to admit to himself that he did feel protected in their care.
Suddenly, Sam realized that he was in Mean Girls: Lima.
Kurt and the girls took their first step and a shockwave went off, with people parting for them like the Red Sea, albeit one under the command of the Bitches of Eastwick. Some kids even pressed themselves tightly against their lockers and squeezed their eyes shut in fear, which Sam found both humorous and disturbing.
He blinked owlishly, already half a pace behind. He scrambled to catch up and noticed that Quinn, Kurt, Santana, and Brittany were walking perfectly in sync with each other, leading with the same legs, their hips rolling as if oiled and set on maximum sway, their gait quick but not rushed. It was a strut that screamed power, control, and complete disinterest. It was masterful.
They passed a trio of Cheerios who immediately moved to the side and sent worshipful eyes at Kurt and Quinn, who acknowledged them, if only barely. Sam spied Puck lingering suspiciously at the end of the hall and wondered what he was plotting. When they reached him, Puck smirked at Quinn, or perhaps it was Kurt, and blew a kiss. It was impossible for Sam and the other people watching to determine if the kiss was intended for Quinn or Kurt, especially as both of them smirked in the exact same manner at the exact same moment, setting off another shockwave of whispers, on which Puck must have counted.
"This is freaking me out," Sam whispered.
"Don't let it," Santana hissed. "It's all a game, Hot Lips. Take your cues from Kurt and you'll be just fine. He won't steer you wrong."
"But why are we doing this?"
"Kurt is making sure that any possible gossip about you is tightly within his grasp. I can guarantee you that, as of right now, there are five discussion topics concerning you. First is that you're gay and dating Kurt. Second, you're bisexual and dating Kurt or me or Quinn. Third is that you're straight and possibly using Kurt to get close to Quinn or me. Fourth is that you've joined Glee. Fifth is that you're a stone-cold fox and we're all banging you."
"We should definitely do that last one," Brittany loudly whispered.
Sam choked. He'd had no idea that when he'd walked through the doors that morning that he'd entered Sweet Valley High. Not that he was in any way familiar with the series, of course.
"Breathe, Sam," Kurt reminded him. "It's the nature of beasts when a new lion is introduced into the pride. They want to know with whom he'll mate; it determines everything for them. Curiosity will peak at lunch and we'll take it from there. Until then, there's at least one Glee student in every one of your classes. They'll look out for you. Be cordial with them, but not overly friendly. Sit near them, but keep a minimum distance of at least two desks."
"Uh."
"Mercedes and Puck are in your math class; gravitate towards them. Finn and Rachel are also in that class. Acknowledge them, but don't let them draw you in. If you do, Rachel will use you to boost her meager popularity. Finn is already jealous of you and is very territorial where Rachel is concerned."
What? Finn was jealous of him? Why?
Quinn snorted. "He's territorial where you're concerned, as well," she said to Kurt.
Oh. Sam felt a streak of perverse pleasure at the thought of Finn viewing him as a rival for Kurt's affections. Was that why Finn so homophobic, because he liked Kurt? But that didn't make much sense at all. Finn had seemed so wary and mistrustful of Kurt during Glee, even if he had been possessive.
Sam wondered just what had happened between Finn and Kurt. There was something there, he knew, something more than just the crush to which Kurt had earlier alluded.
He thought about asking one of the other kids in Glee, maybe Artie or Tina, but he had the feeling they either didn't know or wouldn't tell him. Plus, it would make him look nosy or like a creeper. He didn't want them thinking he was a douchebag. Not to mention that they probably would tell Kurt he had asked, and Kurt would want to know why. Sam doubted he could pass it off as simple curiosity. He didn't want to make Kurt aware of his crush until he could ascertain that it was more than superficial. As much as he liked Kurt, Sam had to keep reminding himself that he didn't really know Kurt. He certainly didn't want to repeat his Lincoln High experience. He shuddered.
Kurt hummed. "Another reason to avoid him. Puck and Mercedes will act as backup. Puck is extremely popular because he does what he wants and doesn't care what people think of him. Mercedes isn't popular per se, but she is well-known. Generally, people try not to anger her. Finn and Rachel won't bother you as long as you're with Puck and Mercedes. Mercedes usually sits in the middle of a classroom and Puck in the back. Sit two desks behind her and two desks in front of him. Rachel sits in the front to maximize her chances of being noticed and usually drags Finn with her."
"This is unbelievable," Sam muttered.
"Welcome to McKinley," Quinn sang.
Sam felt Kurt's arm brush against his and calmed down.
"Don't worry," Kurt said. "I'll take care of you."
Sam ducked his head. "I know."
Quinn and Santana smirked.
Sam sat in his new math class absolutely terrified.
He hadn't cared that Finn had given him the evil eye upon entry. If Finn actually believed he was intimidating, he also probably believed in Santa Claus. He figured Brittany believed in Santa Claus but, from her, such a belief would be charming. He found Finn to be, for whatever reason, extremely irritating.
Sam knew he was being irrational. He had no real reason to dislike Finn, other than the scene that had presented itself during the Glee meeting, and he really knew nothing about whatever weirdness obviously existed between Finn and Kurt. All he knew was that Finn rubbed him the wrong way.
Rachel had enthusiastically greeted him and he had been polite in reply, if cool. Her smile had dimmed somewhat and she ducked her head, and Sam felt a flash of guilt. Then he noticed her peeking up at him from between her lashes and that was when he realized that he was being played. She had wanted him to feel badly for hurting her, even if he hadn't intentionally done so; that is, if he'd hurt her at all.
Wow. He had to give her credit; she was good. He bet she was used to getting her way and had no qualms about making herself look like a kicked puppy to achieve that end.
He had shot her a look of mild respect, which caused her to smirk, and turned abruptly toward the back of the room, nodding at Mercedes, who smirked back at him, quite pleased that he had caught on to Rachel's game all by himself. Sam felt as though he had just passed a test he hadn't known he was taking, nor did he care about the grade. It wasn't like Rachel was subtle. Puck looked up, eyed him, offered him a fist to bump, and then went back to doodling obscenities on his desk with a fine-tipped Sharpie.
Sam did as Kurt had instructed, placing himself between Mercedes and Puck, waiting for the class to begin. He watched as an array of students trickled into the room and was surprised that every possible subset appeared to be represented. Preps, geeks, nerds, dorks, Goths, jocks, gearheads, and cheerleaders.
Christ, was Ferris Bueller next?
The teacher finally walked in and Sam knew it was Game Over. He could tell just by looking at the dude that the guy had no interest in being there at the moment, or in teaching in general. He'd gotten pretty good at identifying such people. He was there for the paycheck and nothing else. Sam couldn't exactly hate on him for that, but he also had the feeling that the guy was a crap teacher, which would totally suck, especially as he would be needing extra help, or, at the very least, understanding.
Then the shame started.
As kind and accepting and so damn lovely as Kurt had been about his dyslexia earlier that morning, it had been long ago ingrained in Sam to be ashamed of his disability. He knew it wasn't true, wasn't right, but before he had been diagnosed, his elementary school teachers had all but called him stupid right to his face. And he had believed them, because what else could've explained his poor grades? He had never really released those feelings, bottling up the shame and the anger and the rage and the disappointment into a tight little ball, letting it settle right in the middle of his chest.
He perfectly understood the rules after they were thoroughly explained, but once he sat down to study or do his homework, the text in the book would start swimming and then he would transpose numbers all over his worksheets. He knew how to work the equations, he could follow all of the processes, but one wrong number, and the entire answer was marked as incorrect. His old teachers had been able to tell that he understood how to do the work, how to do the proofs; they could go through his work step-by-step and see that he had performed the operation flawlessly. Except for one number. Their willingness to grant him partial-credit had kept him from failing. What really sucked was that he actually liked math; it just didn't like him back.
The panic attacks had started in fifth grade, with an absolute harpy of a woman named Miss Mitchell. She had been fresh out of college, with her shiny education degree, and thought she held all the answers. She dressed like a constipated Quaker schoolmarm, with her mouse-brown hair piled high in a loose topknot on her head. It was always slightly crooked, and Sam used to spend entire class periods trying to calculate how much of a breeze was required to knock it loose.
She had hated him. She had taken his failures badly, believing they reflected on what she presumed to be her sterling, if untried, record. She would call on him in class, even though she knew it took him longer than other students to work out an answer. And she had been so snide about it, so smug. That was when the other kids had cottoned on to the fact that there was something different about him, and then the laughter had started. It had never really stopped.
After she had gotten her kicks humiliating him, she would sometimes go one step further. Whenever she taught a new lesson, she would force him to go up to the board and then solve something which he had never before worked. The chalk would shake in his hand and screech across the blackboard, when he wasn't repeatedly dropping it. He would break out into a cold sweat and sway with nausea. He would hear the laughter, sense the unspoken judgments. It had been pure torture. He had started faking sick so he could skip the class, and then he started faking to skip entire days.
Finally, almost at the end of the year, the school counselor had him tested for various learning disabilities. Eventually he had been diagnosed with dyslexia. He knew he should have taken comfort in that, that it had a name. That there were steps he could take to compensate or even overcome it. That he wasn't stupid. And he had gained some measure of peace, until he had explained to Miss Mitchell that he had dyslexia.
"Everyone has their little excuses," was all she had said.
He'd never gotten over it. He'd never been able to block out her voice, which haunted him to this day whenever he had to take a test, or read a book, or stop to consider anything. It was her voice that told him he was talking too long to work a problem, that he was inverting steps even when he wasn't, that laughed derisively at him as he frantically punched the keys of his calculator, that ridiculed him when he tripped over certain letters as he tried to sound out a word in his head.
It was her voice that told him constantly that he was dumb and would never amount to anything.
He hated her voice.
His mother still tried to comfort him, repeatedly telling him that most likely Miss Mitchell had felt guilty for not recognizing the signs of the dyslexia herself, that she was sure the woman now regretted how she had treated him, but Sam knew better. The one lesson Miss Mitchell had taught him that he had no trouble understanding was that some people were just cruel. They had no specific reason for being such, and they never apologized for who they hurt; rather, they relished their pathetic victories, smug in the superiority they believed they possessed.
He'd had to get some therapy and medication for the panic attacks, which had slowly lessened in severity, but had then morphed into a more generalized anxiety disorder. It now only got really bad when he had to take tests, and then he would freak out, depending on how much of his class grade depended on exams. The effects were exacerbated by certain subjects. The one good thing was that, since his dyslexia was documented, he was allowed more time for exams and sometimes got to take them away from other students, since he was easily distracted when in a panicked state. He was glad that Ms. Pillsbury had made arrangements for him.
At any rate, the takeaway lessons of fifth grade were, for Sam Evans, that you should never presume to know someone, and that you should never, ever judge another for being different.
It wasn't a popular view to hold, especially in certain circles; particularly in schools, where conformity was preached and individuality punished. Regardless, he had clung to his principles. Thankfully, so had his parents. When he had come to them three years later and admitted that he sometimes liked guys, they weren't upset. They weren't even fazed, as far as he remembered. They had worried for him, of course, and warned him to trust implicitly those he let get close to him, but they had never judged him.
Sam tried very hard not to judge other people. He paid attention to his instincts when certain people pinged his radar, but he generally avoided those people rather than engage them. Finn and Rachel had pinged pretty loudly. He didn't hate them or anything. He didn't think they were evil. He just didn't care for them. If he decided to join Glee, he would have to deal with them, and he would be polite and courteous, but he really didn't want to be their friend.
Puck seemed cool, if a little defensive. Same with Mercedes. Santana was a bitch, but she was forthright about it, which counted for a lot as far as he was concerned. Brittany was a sweetheart. Quinn was an unknown quantity. He thought Mike, Artie, and Tina would make good friends, but he was a little weirded out by the as-yet-unnamed drama he sensed amongst them.
And Kurt…Kurt was just a really cool dude.
What was not cool was this teacher, Mr. Parks.
Mr. Parks had a whiny, nasal voice which sounded cultivated to be as grating as possible, and he actually seemed to resent the students who had shown up for his class.
Great.
Sam felt the flop sweat begin.
Fifty minutes and several pages of diligent, untidy notes later, the bell rang and Sam heaved a small sigh of relief.
Parks was just as bad as he had feared. He was apparently fascinated with minutiae and dwelled far too long on ridiculous things, going off on tangents about higher-level mathematics and Sam could only assume the guy was bitter because he was stuck teaching the general Algebra II class instead of Trig or some honors course or something. He also glossed over the important stuff, telling the class to reference the textbook, which was dense and unhelpful and, of course, selected by him.
Sam knew this class was going to suck big time for the entire year.
He sensed someone at his side and looked up to see Puck staring down at him.
"Princess asked me to take you to your next class," he said, shrugging. "What Princess wants, Princess gets."
Sam looked around and noticed that Finn and Rachel were already gone. Mercedes was taking her time packing up her things, watching his interaction with Puck. Once noticed, she sent a small wave in his direction and flounced away.
"Mr. Evans."
"Fuck me," Sam muttered under his breath.
Puck snorted. "I'll wait outside."
Sam nodded and cautiously approached the teacher's desk. "Yes, sir?"
Parks seemed surprised and appreciative of his manners. "I just wanted to let you know that I've discussed your…problem…"
Sam tried not to flinch.
"…with Emma Pillsbury," he continued. "We have made all of the necessary and required accommodations."
Sam caught the stress on the word required. What was this dude's problem? It's not like Sam was creating extra work for him or anything.
"I'm sure you understand that I simply don't have the time to tutor individual students," Parks droned, "but if I can be of any assistance, please let me know."
In other words, don't bother me. Ever.
Sam nodded. "Thank you, sir."
The man looked up over his glasses and scrutinized Sam. "Ms. Pillsbury has informed me that you have a Peer Mentor who will also be acting as your tutor?"
Sam nodded again. "Yes, sir. Kurt Hummel." He frowned when the teacher grimaced at the name.
Fuck.
"Mr. Hummel," the man began, "is an exceptionally bright young man." His tone was begrudging. "However, I'm sure you know how that type of…person…can be."
Sam frowned more deeply. "Type of person, sir?"
"Homosexual," Parks hissed, leaning closer, his eyes darting around the room.
Sam opened his mouth.
"Deviants, you know. I saw how that…boy…pranced around last year, disgustingly chasing after that poor dullard, Finn Hudson. It was shameful." He shook his head and glared at Sam. "If Hummel is in any way inappropriate with you, or you fear for your safety, inform me at once and action will be taken."
Fear for my safety? What? Sam thought.
He could feel the blush creeping up his neck and knew he had to get the hell out of the room before he punched the guy in his obnoxious face. He nodded once, turned on his heel, and swept out of the room, sure that Parks thought his discomfiture was caused by Kurt Hummel and not his words.
Sam wanted to kill things.
Sam stormed blindly into the hall, pushing roughly past students who stopped and glared at him, though they said nothing. He dimly heard Puck shouting after him, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't think.
"Evans!" Puck shouted, clapping his hand hard down on Sam's shoulder. He spun Sam around and winced at the furious look on the other guy's face. "Whoa, dude. You okay? What the fuck did Parks say to you?"
Sam was silent for a long moment. "I have dyslexia," he finally said.
"Okay…"
"Parks knew Pillsbury had assigned me a tutor."
"Yeah?"
"Kurt's my tutor."
"Right…"
"Parks started talking smack about Kurt."
Puck's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What the hell did that douche say about my boy?"
Sam pulled Puck to the side of the hall and whispered the conversation verbatim.
"Son of a bitch," Puck hissed. "What are you going to do?"
"Report him," Sam said flatly.
Puck whistled. "Dude, you got big ones, I'll give you that. But that could, like, totally backfire on you. Parks is a dick, always has been. You report him, he'll make your life miserable."
Sam shook his head. "I don't give a fuck. I can't have that kind of poison around me." He sighed. "Look, Puck, Kurt's the first kid I've met in this town. He's been so damn good and…and nice to me. He showed me around, told me he'd help me with whatever, didn't make me feel stupid for having a damn disability. That means something to me. I can't…I couldn't just sit there in that class, day after day, and look that asshole in the face, knowing he'd trashed Kurt behind his back and I'd done nothing about it."
A gleam of respect shone in Puck's eyes.
"Don't tell Kurt," Sam added. "I don't want him upset over this. That fuckhole isn't worth Kurt's time."
Puck nodded hesitantly. He didn't want to keep shit from the Princess, not the least of which was because the Princess had a knack for ferreting out secrets. So, he'd have to be a really good actor and hope Sam was, as well. "I won't."
Sam nodded. "Pillsbury picked me up in Figgins' office this morning. Can you tell me where her office is?"
"I'll take you. I'm skipping next class anyway. English Lit is lame. I'll get the notes from Quinn or Chang."
Sam dropped his eyes. "Thanks, Puck."
Puck shook his head. "Don't thank me. This is your first day here and you've already got this place and its people figured out. The Princess…Kurt is a good guy. You're sticking up for him. That's a big deal. He's a good friend to have."
"I know."
Sam knocked briskly on Ms. Pillsbury's door and waited for a response.
"Come in," she demurely called. Her docile tone sounded even more nervous than usual.
Sam walked in and startled upon seeing Mr. Schuester. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your conference."
"Hello Sam," Emma said warmly. "You weren't interrupting anything. Mr. Schuester was just leaving," she added, her voice somewhat harsher.
Will opened his mouth, blinked, and then closed it again. He sighed and turned to leave, nodding his head at Sam.
"Please sit down," Emma told Sam, who complied. "What can I do for you?"
Sam began having second thoughts. He had been so enraged at Parks that he had automatically sought to punish the man, but he also didn't know if he could trust Ms. Pillsbury. She was nice, he thought, and seemed concerned for the students, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. He had learned the hard way that, when push came to shove, faculty members would often back up each other before they did the students.
"You can talk to me, Sam," she said gently.
He sighed and bit his lip, staring into her huge eyes and considering her statement. He wanted to trust her, he did. His instincts said that he could, but he had been wrong before. He didn't want to start off a new year in a new place on a bad foot. He didn't want to repeat last year's experience. Still, he knew his words to Puck had been true: he wouldn't be able to stomach sitting across from Parks for an entire year. That gave him an idea.
He took a deep breath. "Is it possible for me to switch into another math class?"
Emma was surprised, but not terribly so. Parks was someone she absolutely loathed, a teacher in name only who had no real concern for or understanding of his students. Will was concerned, but played favorites. As much as she didn't like Sue, Emma knew the woman would go the wall for her kids, though she didn't really like any of them, which was why she excused so much of the woman's ridiculous behavior.
"Did something happen?" she carefully asked. Judging from Sam's resulting grimace, something had.
"He kept me after class," Sam said slowly. "I didn't get the impression that he was thrilled with having to deal with my disability."
Emma repressed a sigh. She certainly wasn't shocked, but also sensed there was a lot Sam wasn't saying. "Are you sure that's all?"
Sam glared sullenly at the floor.
Emma twisted her hands nervously. "Sam," she began, "I'm aware of what happened at Lincoln." She winced at his sharp intake of breath. "Not everything of course, but the general idea. I want you to know that will not happen here. I simply won't allow it. But if Mr. Parks made you uncomfortable for any reason, I need to know."
He narrowed his eyes. "So anything I tell you won't be kept confidential."
She tilted her head. This was verging into some sticky territory. "If you ask me to keep something confidential, I will, unless it places you or someone else in harm."
He frowned. "Physical harm?"
What the heck had that man said to Sam? Emma silently fumed. "Any kind of harm, Sam." She wanted him to trust her, but couldn't accomplish that by lying to him.
Sam sat silent for a moment, debating with himself. "You know I'm bisexual," he finally said.
She nodded swiftly. "I do. And there is nothing wrong with that, Sam," she said, her voice fierce.
"I know," Sam immediately countered.
She arched an eyebrow. "Do you?"
"Yes," he said emphatically. "I've never been confused about that. I'm not self-loathing."
She nodded.
He sighed. "Parks knew I had a tutor. He wanted to know who it was."
Emma saw where this was going and she wasn't pleased.
"When I told him it was Kurt, he made some…comments."
"I see," Emma said coolly. And she did. It was confirmed when Sam repeated said comments.
"I don't want Kurt to know," he rushed to add.
"I can appreciate that," she said, "and I'm sure Kurt would too, but he's been dealing with this for a long time, Sam. The discrimination against him isn't just limited to students, and Kurt is aware of that."
Sam glared at her. "And it's just allowed."
She sighed. "Sexual orientation doesn't have protected status in Ohio, Sam," she said sadly.
"Terrific," he spat.
She drummed her nails on her desk. "There's another algebra class that meets at the same time as you have study hall. I can put you in that and make your second class your free period."
Sam thought about that, but then realized the conflict. "That wouldn't work if I joined Glee."
"Are you considering doing that?"
He shrugged. "I auditioned. Mr. Schuester wants me to join."
"Why are you hesitating?"
"I like most of the kids," Sam cautiously said.
"Are Noah and Santana giving you problems?"
Sam's eyes widened. "What? No, not at all. They've both been really nice to me."
Emma's own eyes widened in response.
"Kurt probably asked them to be," he said offhandedly, "but I like them."
"Kurt asked Noah to be nice," she said slowly, "and Noah complied?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah, they're friends."
She was utterly baffled. "I see. So who…"
"Finn and Rachel."
She blinked. She was only surprised that she wasn't more surprised.
"Finn actually attacked Puck because Puck is friends with Kurt."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"Yeah. And as soon as Kurt and I walked in to the room, Rachel started accusing me of being a spy and out to destroy her or something. When Kurt defended me, she got all huffy and stormed out, but not before purposefully knocking him to the floor."
Emma sighed and shook her head. "Please tell me Will actually did something about this," she muttered.
"He did."
Emma gave a startled blink. She didn't know if she was more startled that she had said those words aloud or that Will had actually punished his golden couple.
"Are you going to tell Mr. Schuester what I told you?" Sam asked rather defensively.
She shook her head. "I don't see the point. He handled the matter. There's no reason for me to interfere. I still don't understand why you're hesitating to join, however. Are you afraid how the other students will perceive you for being in the glee club?"
Sam shrugged. "I could care less about them. Don't get me wrong, I want friends; I want to be liked. But I don't want to be liked by people who would look down on me just because I enjoy singing. I don't have time for that."
Emma wondered if Sam was a unicorn. He certainly was unique, at least as far as her experience with other McKinley students was concerned. For some of them, the biggest worry on their small minds was if they would be invited to so-and-so's party. Sam was one of those rare students who could possibly do well in several groups. He knew his own mind and didn't apologize for it, but also was concerned about the feelings of others, a rare combination in high school.
"So what are you worried about?" she finally asked.
"Honestly? Rachel and Finn kind of creep me out. She's incredibly intense, and he seems stupid by choice. Finn makes me a lot more nervous than Rachel does, and he was really upset that Kurt and Puck are friends. From everything I've heard about him and Kurt, I'd think he'd be glad."
Emma averted her eyes. "So you know about that."
"That Kurt had a hopeless crush on a homophobic jackass?" Sam shrugged. "Doesn't appear to be a secret."
She had the absurd urge to giggle but managed to quash it.
"Also," Sam continued, "Mr. Schuester doesn't seem to be the one who controls things in that club."
Emma agreed, but couldn't do so outright, so she merely leveled a bland look at him, fairly certain he saw through the weak attempt at subterfuge.
He chuckled darkly. "Yeah. I promised Mr. Schuester that I would let him know for sure by tomorrow. If the only other math class I can get into meets at that time, I think my choice is pretty obvious."
Emma bit her lip. "There's one other option, but I'm not sure how you'll feel about it."
Sam raised an eyebrow.
"The Honors Algebra class meets at the same time as your current algebra class. They use the same book, but work through it at an accelerated rate. However," she said carefully, "in my opinion, Ms. Colby is one of the best teachers McKinley offers, and I'm sure she wouldn't look down on you for your dyslexia and would be more than happy to work with you."
Sam debated the idea for several moments.
"I honestly believe you will do well," Emma continued. "I know you're a smart boy, Sam. You have a learning disability, yes, but that has nothing to do with your intelligence. Your previous scores in science and language arts are quite above average. I know you have trouble with spelling, but that's a cosmetic issue, not one that indicates your ability to comprehend and analyze." She paused. "And you would have Kurt's help, of course," she added slyly, looking for a clue.
Sam shook his head. "I don't want have to depend on him that much. He's in all kinds of advanced classes, and then there's Glee and the cheerleading thing. I don't want him to think I want to be his friend just so that I can use him."
"Well, Ms. Colby does run a tutoring program. She offers an online seminar to advanced mathematics students, and they receive credit and community service hours for tutoring their classmates. You could receive tutoring from one of them if you find it necessary. I believe both Quinn Fabray and Artie Abrams are part of that group."
Sam brightened. Quinn seemed alright, although he couldn't know for sure, but he did like Artie. He nodded. "Let's do it."
After Emma filled out the appropriate paperwork and signed it, she then had Sam sign it and advised him she would file it with the administrative office. She printed him a new schedule just as third period was wrapping up. She wrote him a pass to excuse him from Chemistry, advising him that both Mercedes and Finn were in his class and he could get the notes from one of them. He quickly decided on Mercedes.
"I have to meet Kurt," Sam said, standing up. "He'll worry." He hooked his bookbag over his shoulder and shuffled his feet. "Thank you, Ms. Pillsbury. Thanks for listening and actually doing something to help me. It's nice to know that students here have a teacher they can count on."
He rushed out of the office, leaving a gaping Emma staring after him.
She felt tears rush to her eyes.
No student had ever before said anything like that to her. She wanted to make sure she lived up to it.
Her eyes narrowed. And now it was time to do something about Daniel Parks.
"Where were you?" asked an anxious Kurt.
Sam grinned. Kurt had missed him! "I was with Ms. Pillsbury. I wanted to make an adjustment to my schedule."
Kurt frowned. "Why? Did something happen?"
Sam noticed Puck eyeing him warily and decided to go for broke. He widened his eyes dramatically until they brimmed with innocence. "Is Parks always so mean?"
Kurt instantly went on the offensive. "Did he say something to you?"
Sam wanted to dance a jig of glee. Protective Kurt was too cute.
"He talked to me about my dyslexia," Sam said in a small voice, toeing the ground. He kind of felt like a dick, lying to Kurt this way, but he figured it was worth it. There was no reason to have Kurt be upset or feel bad about himself because of one ignorant and bigoted teacher.
Kurt glanced nervously at Puck.
"I told Puck," Sam said, catching the look. "He wanted to know why I was so upset after class. He was really awesome about it, telling me not to let Parks get to me."
Kurt shot Puck a brilliant smile, looking so proudly at the other boy that Sam felt a glimmer of jealousy, which was only compounded when Puck blushed lightly and ducked his head.
"I told him that Parks has always been a douche," Puck said, trying to get the conversation back on the track Sam had established.
Kurt gave a swift nod. "Unfortunately, that's true. The man has no real interest in being an educator, other than building up his pension." He hung his head. "I feel badly that I didn't warn you."
"Hey," Sam said softly, "please don't be upset, Kurt. I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I don't expect you to hold my hand through all of this."
Even though Sam would've really liked Kurt to hold his hand. Kurt colored slightly and Sam wondered if Kurt wanted to hold his hand. He startled. He hadn't ever considered that his crush might be mutual. The idea both awed and terrified him.
But what if Kurt just thought he was a creeper? Shit!
Puck rolled his eyes. Kiss him! he mouthed to Sam, who flushed.
Great. Either Puck was telepathic, or Sam had been even more obvious than he had feared.
He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I don't have to deal with Parks anymore. I went to talk to Pillsbury, and she moved me to the honors class."
Kurt brightened. "That means you'll have Ms. Colby! She's a wonderful teacher."
"And hot," Puck added.
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Didn't she turn you down flat?"
Puck shrugged. "That just made her hotter."
Kurt sighed with feigned impatience. "Noah, you're ridiculous."
"You love me anyway."
Kurt sniffed. "That is beside the point."
Puck beamed. "You love me!"
"As I would an incredibly annoying brother," Kurt nodded.
"Aw, we're totally bros, man!" Puck said happily. He reached over and poked Kurt in the stomach, stunned when Kurt released a peal of laughter. "You're ticklish!"
"I'm not," Kurt snickered, before scowling and pushing Puck away from him.
"You so are!" Puck grinned. He ducked around to Kurt's other side and wiggled his fingers against the boy's ribs. "Tickle, tickle, tickle!"
Kurt shrieked. "Stop that!" he scolded Puck through his tears of mirth.
"No!"
"Noah!"
"I can't believe the perfect Princess is so common as to be ticklish! What else can you do?"
Kurt glared. "I can join unholy forces with Santana and make your life miserable."
Puck gave a spastic shudder. "Seriously, what the hell is going on with the two of you?"
Kurt grinned. "Santana is my opposite sex life partner."
"But the two of you together is really scary, man," Puck whined. "Like, someone should call Buffy or something."
Kurt arched a brow. "You're familiar with Buffy?"
Puck's mouth fell open. He glanced at a much bemused Sam, looked back at Kurt, and then ran away.
Sam laughed. "You'd never know how goofy that guy is from looking at him."
Kurt shrugged. "He has the bad-boy thing going on, but it's more of a front than not. It's nice to see him so…relaxed, especially after last year."
"What happened?" Sam asked.
Kurt shook his head. "Please forgive me; I shouldn't have spoken. It's not my place to say."
Sam nodded slowly. "I respect that."
Kurt smiled. "Thank you, Sam." He cleared his throat. "Are you ready for your history class?" He turned around to follow Puck's path down the hall.
Sam hurried to catch up. "I'm nervous," he confessed. "It's my only AP class, and I want to do well, but my dyslexia makes me a little paranoid."
Kurt nodded. "I suppose that's understandable. I really can't speak to your difficulties, but for what it's worth, I think you're very intelligent. I may not have observed you in an academic setting, but I believe I'm a good judge of character. I took the class my freshman year and did well on the AP exam, so you're welcome to borrow my notes if you think they'll be of any use. Mr. Rice is a good teacher, though he is a stickler for details."
Sam nodded. "If you're sure you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take a look at your notes. Usually I get so busy trying to write down everything the teacher is saying, I end up falling behind and missing important information."
"I understand," Kurt said. "I myself have fallen into that trap before. Mr. Rice's lectures are verbose and dense, though nothing he says can't be found in the text book. It's just a matter of knowing where to look." He began rummaging through his messenger bag and emerged with a small tape recorder. "I use this to tape my vocal exercises so I know where to focus my efforts. There's a new tape and fresh batteries already loaded. Use this to tape your lecture and transcribe it into your notebook. That way you won't miss anything."
Sam took it gently, his fingers brushing over Kurt's own. Both seemed startled by the contact.
"Thanks," Sam whispered. "I really appreciate everything you're doing for me, Kurt. I just hope you don't think I'm taking advantage of you or anything."
Kurt waved a dismissive hand. "Don't be ridiculous, Sam. You're in a brand new school and don't have the advantages as those of us who have been here for two years. I'm more than happy to help." He smirked. "That doesn't mean, however, that I would be averse to having you accompany me on some performances for Glee, even if you don't end up joining."
Sam nodded enthusiastically. "I'd love to." He paused. "I'm surprised you haven't said anything more about me joining."
Kurt shrugged. "I don't want to pressure you. I promised I wouldn't do that, and I don't want you to think that our friendship is contingent upon you joining the club. I'm your friend because I want to be, and for no other reason."
Sam felt himself blushing again and silently cursed himself for it. "Thank you, Kurt."
Kurt nodded and stopped before a classroom door. "This is where I leave you. Puck, Rachel, Finn, and Mercedes are in that class, as are Brittany, Quinn, and Mike. You should consider sitting near Mike or Quinn. They both excel in history and would be, I'm sure, more than happy to help you. I'll bring you a copy of my notes tomorrow."
Sam nodded, pleased. "Thanks again, Kurt. What do you have now?"
"My government class. After that is my first free period. I'll probably hang out in the choir room and practice. Noah will take you to your Spanish class and I'll come by and pick you up after so that we can go to lunch."
"Okay," Sam said cheerfully. "See you later!"
Sam entered the classroom and noticed that he was one of the last students to arrive, though the teacher was not yet present. He momentarily debated where to sit. From the layout of the room, he imagined there would be a lot of group work involved and he didn't want to get stuck with kids who wouldn't pull their own weight. He noticed that Finn and Rachel had already huddled up, and Mercedes looked unhappy to be seated with them. Quinn, Brittany, and another cheerleader had formed a triad in the middle of the room.
"Sam!"
He looked around and saw a cheerful Mike waving him over toward an empty seat; Puck was seated on the other side. He heaved a quiet sigh of relief, smiled winningly, and made his way over.
"Hey dudes."
Mike nodded and Puck held out a fist to bump, with which Sam complied.
"I was wondering if we'd have any classes together," Mike said. "This is supposed to be a good one."
Sam nodded. "That's what Kurt told me. He's going to lend me a copy of his notes."
The din that had been echoing around the room abruptly quieted.
Mike stared. "Kurt is going to give you his notes?" he slowly repeated.
Sam looked around nervously. "Um, yeah. That's what he said."
"Wow," Puck murmured, shaking his head.
"Is something wrong?" Sam asked.
"Kurt never lends his notes!" shrieked an outraged Rachel.
Sam turned around to look at her, slightly unnerved by the evil glare Finn was leveling at him.
"Well," Sam drawled, "I guess I'm special."
"I bet you are," Finn spat.
"Oh, hell no!" bellowed an outraged Mercedes, who, along with Puck and Quinn, stood up and glared at him.
"Kurty lends me his notes all the time," said a confused Brittany, "and he doesn't even get mad when I spill Kool-Aid on them."
Sam stood up and looked at Finn. "Look, dude, I don't know what your deal is with Kurt, but I could care less." He noticed Quinn and Puck nodding along with him. "I'm sorry that you're such a homophobe, but what can I do about it? Have you considered seeking professional help?"
Mike and Brittany snickered darkly.
"I'm not homophobic!" Finn barked. "Just stay away from Kurt!"
"I don't think so," Sam replied, growing angrier by the second. "I don't know who you think you are, but unless I've missed some special announcement, you're not Kurt's social secretary. So why don't you worry about your own shit and leave Kurt's friends alone?"
"Shut up!"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Riddle me this, Hudson. Kurt doesn't like you. He's not your friend. Yet you threw a bitch fit this morning when you found out Kurt and Puck are friends. You nearly wet your pants when Kurt and Santana made out. From everything I've seen and heard, you don't like Kurt either. You don't want him around you. He freaks you out. Now, I can only deduce it's because he's gay, which, by the way, is incredibly lame of you. So I kind of have to wonder why you're trying so damn hard to keep people away from Kurt when you don't want him anywhere near you."
Finn's mouth moved at an exaggerated speed, though no sound emerged.
Sam held up a hand. "Dude, cancel my subscription. I'm over your issues."
As Finn puzzled over his words, Sam sat back down and began chatting with Mike, while a delighted Puck sneered at Finn.
Quinn noted with satisfaction that several students, who were not friends with anyone in Glee, looked at Finn with everything from minor irritation to outright disgust. Apparently more people liked Kurt than anyone realized, or were at least unbothered by him. They would probably never tell him so, but she supposed it was a start.
She also recognized Sam's strategic move. He had just openly allied himself with Kurt, and thus with Puck and Santana, whose exploits with the other boy were most likely already being texted to the masses. Coupled with the fact that Sam had been seen with Kurt and Santana in the halls, as well as herself and Brittany, Sam had inadvertently joined a clique, even if he didn't end up joining Glee. It would become apparent to the school that Glee had Sam's back and that he was in tight with the Cheerios. Those who were afraid of Puck, which was pretty much everyone, would leave Sam alone, too fearful of retaliation. All of this had the bonus of elevating Kurt's own status – and Kurt wasn't even aware of it!
Further, Sam didn't seem to care who he pissed off. He defended his friends at the slightest provocation, had no qualms about doing so, and didn't care whether people liked it or not. That was pretty damn sexy. Now she just had to get Kurt and Sam to be sexy together.
The next thing of which Sam was aware was Mercedes, Brittany, and Quinn nabbing three empty chairs at the adjoining desk. As presumably all of the students, despite several empty desks, were now present and accounted for, he guessed the seat assignments would remain this way for the year. He did notice that Mercedes and Quinn were giving each other a wide berth. The cheerleader who had been abandoned by Brittany and Quinn looked ready to burst into tears, especially when she had no choice by to sit with Finn and Rachel.
"Okay, white boy," Mercedes said, eyeing Sam, "you just scored some major points with the Hummel Harem. But just so you know, word will soon spread that you defended Kurt."
Sam shrugged. "Don't care."
Quinn and Brittany smiled.
"You don't?" asked a surprised Mercedes.
"Why should I?" Sam demanded. "I don't care what Magilla Gorilla thinks about me. It's pretty obvious that he's a huge douchebag. The only thing I don't get is what the hell Kurt ever saw in him."
"Kurt told you about that?" Quinn asked.
"He said in Glee this morning that he'd had a crush on Hudson, but I haven't pressed him for details, if that's what you're asking. I'm not suicidal."
Mercedes and Puck smirked.
"So are you going to join Glee?" Mike asked Sam, who turned pensive.
"I don't know," a reluctant Sam finally said. "Are all meetings that…"
"Batshit crazy?" Puck supplied.
Sam nodded.
"Pretty much," Brittany chirped. "As much as fun as it is, there's lots of drama."
"I'm thinking about it," Sam said. "I have to let Mr. Schuester know by tomorrow and I want to discuss it with my parents first."
A few of them wanted to press the issue, but were quelled by Puck's glare.
"Hey, why did Parks keep you after class?" Mercedes asked Sam.
Sam averted his eyes. "I'm switching to the honors class. Ms. Pillsbury thought it was a good idea and I agreed."
"Lucky," Mercedes said enviously.
"Why don't you switch too?" Sam asked, smiling. "It'd be nice to know another person in there."
Mercedes looked thoughtful.
"They use the same book, but just go at an accelerated pace," he added.
"I'd like to," she confessed, "but math has never really been my friend."
Sam shrugged. "Mine neither, but it will look good on your college applications, and apparently there's an awesome tutoring group if you need help."
"I'm a tutor," Quinn said stiffly, noticeably avoiding Mercedes' eyes. "I'd be happy to help you, Sam. Artie's a tutor, as well."
Mercedes, who hadn't noticed Quinn's reluctant admission, nodded. "I'll speak to Ms. Pillsbury." She rolled her eyes. "Not to mention the bonus that it would get me away from Tweedledee and Tweedledum over there," she added, glaring in Finn and Rachel's direction.
Puck decided he would switch as well, though he didn't give voice to his plans. Leaving Rachel and Finn to fend for themselves in the algebra class made him want to giggle.
"How was your new calc class, Brittany?" Quinn asked.
"It was fun!" the girl enthusiastically answered. "It's nice to have a class with Artie and Kurty. I get to sit between them, so I'm pretty sure that means we'll eventually have a threesome. Do you guys like Mr. Donovan?" she asked Quinn and Mike, who exchanged a look.
"He seems to know the subject well," Quinn said carefully, mind boggling at the possibility of a Kurt/Brittany/Artie hookup. Arkurtanny? Kartinny? Brikurtie? She shook her head to clear it.
"He's just really intense about math," Mike added.
Brittany nodded. "Yeah, he can be scary, but calculus is tons of fun, so just concentrate on that!"
"I had no idea you were such a math nerd, Brit," Puck drawled.
She nodded. "Math is so interesting! Everything makes sense, and as long as you follow the rules, you always get the right answer! And there's only ever one answer." She frowned. "Well, as long as you're taking the absolute value. Plus, there are imaginary numbers! And you don't get yelled at for using your imagination!"
She beamed at the startled and bemused faces.
Mr. Rice then sauntered in and immediately began taking roll.
Sam noticed about halfway through the lecture that he had developed an academic crush on Patrick Rice. The man was smart, scary smart, but wasn't arrogant or obnoxious about it. He reminded Sam of Kurt.
He had impressed Sam almost from the beginning of the class, which was run as though it were a college course. After taking roll, Mr. Rice had spoken a little about himself. He looked about as old as Mr. Schuester, but was so much hotter, and had an undergraduate degree in History as well as a Masters in Education. Sam couldn't believe the guy would actually want to teach at a dinky little school in Nowhere, Ohio, but he apparently loved his subject and enjoyed sharing what he knew with students.
Plus, Rice was working on getting his doctorate at OSU. He had even presented the class with a full and detailed syllabus for the semester, outlining course objectives, exam days, dates papers were due, and his expectations of the students.
Sam had always done reasonably well in history classes. He had problems with dates and small details, but he liked learning about the past and how it informed the present. He wouldn't go as far as to say he was passionate about history, not like he was about literature or biology, but it was one of his favorite subjects. He thought with a teacher like Mr. Rice, he might actually do well in the course. His anxiety about being enrolled in an AP class was therefore somewhat diminished.
Kurt's idea of recording the lecture had been a good one, and Sam was a little embarrassed that he had never before thought of it. He was taking good notes, in his opinion, but knew he had missed some key points. His memory was above average, but he was usually so busy berating himself for what he deemed his own stupidity, by the time he went back to add to his notes, he had forgotten what he had meant to add.
He'd try to transcribe the tape and integrate it into his notes before school let out so that he could get the recorder back to Kurt. He was pretty sure his mom had one he could borrow. He briefly thought of hanging on to Kurt's recorder on the pretext of starting a conversation with the other boy and thus guaranteeing more time spent in Kurt's company, before deciding that was too pathetic.
Maybe he should find a way to show Kurt his abs?
He forced himself to focus once more on the lecture and not wonder as to whether Kurt might find him cute.
As soon as the bell rang, Puck was at Sam's side after announcing to the others that he was taking Sam to Spanish class. Mercedes wanted to walk with them, but abruptly fled when Puck told her he needed to talk to Sam about jock itch.
Sam looked at Puck and blinked.
"Dude," Puck whispered, "you need to work on your game face, okay? The last twenty minutes of class, you totally looked like you wanted to blow Rice."
Sam flushed scarlet. "Oh god. Oh, my god."
"Chill, bro," Puck hissed, holding up his hands. "It's cool if you're into dick. I've got your back."
"Uh, thanks," Sam said nervously, "but I'm bi. I just…good teachers get me hot." He hung his head in embarrassment. Actually, he had been daydreaming about Kurt and Mr. Rice...and himself.
Yeah, he was pretty dirty. And horny.
Puck rolled his eyes. "Shit, there are pairs of socks that get me hot. Don't worry about it." His brows gathered. "So, bi, huh? How'd you figure it out?"
Sam's eyes widened. "Are you…?"
Puck shrugged. "Don't know. I mean, it's not like I'm desperate for dick or anything, and I know I could get it if I really wanted. I've just never looked at guys that way before. Still, it doesn't gross me out. I'm actually kind of curious, so maybe that means something?"
Sam studied the earnest look on Puck's face and realized the other boy was serious. He didn't want to come across as mocking or condescending, nor did he want to say something that would get Puck angry at him or close off avenues of communication.
"It could just mean that you're an awesome dude who judges people on their merits and not who's in their bed," Sam said quietly.
Puck blinked owlishly. No one had ever called him awesome and meant it. Usually people only said nice things about him because they were scared of him or wanted to fuck him. It was a little disconcerting. He felt confused, yet proud of himself, like he did when he had gone to apologize to Kurt for all the shit he'd put the little guy through.
And Kurt had fucking accepted.
Puck had been positive that Kurt would have just laughed at him or gotten his dad to shoot him or something, but Kurt instead had invited him into his home, fed and watered him, listened to what he'd had to say, and then forgiven him.
And Kurt Hummel, despite being absent for the entire summer, had somehow turned into one of the best friends Puck had ever had. That it pissed off Finn was just a bonus.
"It's weird," Puck confessed. "Like, I can't picture myself getting down with another guy, but when I think of Kurt…"
Sam choked.
Puck smirked. "Relax, bro. I'm not making a play for your boy."
"He's not mine," Sam said quickly.
"But you'd like him to be," Puck guessed.
Sam hesitated. "I'm attracted to him, sure, but it's too soon to know if anything will come from it. I mean, I like him. I really like him. He's probably going to be my best friend." He sighed and bit his lip. "I don't want to screw that up."
Puck nodded thoughtfully. He and Santana had once been best friends, but then they had started sleeping together. It had changed everything. He still loved her in a way, and would totally put down anyone who tried to hurt her, but most of the time he couldn't stand to be around her, and he knew the feeling was mutual. It was kind of sad.
Sam sighed. "You were saying something about Kurt?"
Puck was startled out of his musing. "Oh. Yeah. When I think about the Princess, I can actually picture us going on dates and stuff. You know, like grabbing dinner or a movie, bowling. Shit like that. And I don't get it. I fuck girls; I don't date them. So why do I want to date the Princess?"
Sam arched an eyebrow. "You do know that everything you just described doesn't have to be a date, right? You could do all that with Kurt as friends."
Puck's mouth fell open. Wow. He hadn't thought about it that way. He felt like a retard. Or Finn.
"You don't have to justify wanting to be Kurt's friend, Puck," Sam said gently. "You don't have to date him to hang out with him. It's pretty obvious he considers you a good friend. I don't think he'd even bother to acknowledge you if he didn't want to hang."
Puck blushed. He did like Kurt, but he had also felt like their friendship was contingent on him changing who he was, even though Kurt had never said anything like that. In fact, he was pretty sure Kurt would kick his ass if he changed his personality, even though Kurt himself had changed some over the summer. Still, it wasn't a bad change, more like Kurt had...grown into himself. Pretty cool.
"You don't have many friends, do you, Puck?" Sam asked. "True friends, I mean."
Puck was silent for a long moment, wondering why the fuck Evans would ask him that and how he should answer, before deciding just to be honest. He finally shook his head.
"I know the feeling," Sam said. "When you find one, you want to hang on to them with everything you've got. They open doors to possibilities you never considered, and you don't think you could handle it if they shut those doors in your face. Friends can really make you vulnerable."
Puck figured out pretty quickly that Sam was no longer talking about Kurt. He guessed that Sam had been through some really rough shit, or someone had dicked him over in a major way. That wasn't cool.
What was cool was how Sam had gone to bat for the Princess repeatedly in the past few hours. Sam liked Kurt and hoped Kurt liked him back, but he was also really afraid of Kurt hurting him. Puck could understand that all too well.
"Do," Puck said, before exhaling loudly, "do you think we…could be friends?"
Fuck. Princess had made him vulnerable. Sneaky gays who were out but were still emotionally sneaky.
Sam gave him a small smile. "I thought we were."
Puck kind of wanted to cry, but he didn't, because he wasn't a girl. He was a badass, and he'd beat the shit out of anyone who claimed otherwise.
It would be nice to have friends, though, Puck decided. Real ones. Ones who wouldn't make him feel inferior without even trying. Ones he wouldn't fuck over because he was so damn jealous all the time. He really fucking hated being so goddamned lonely, even though he knew it was his own fault.
In the light of this new spirit of friendship, Puck refrained from telling Sam that he thought about kissing Kurt probably more than was healthy for a straight dude.
Sam and Puck walked into the Spanish III classroom laughing hysterically and shoving playfully at each other, much to the surprise and amusement of the occupants.
Mercedes simply looked confused, not understanding why or when Puck and Sam had become friends and worrying what Kurt would think of this development. Had they been laughing at him? If so, she would have to snip their gonads. Suddenly, her mind filled with devious plots against Kurt. What if Puck was faking their friendship just to make Kurt vulnerable? What if Sam was part of it and pretending to like Kurt to get close to him?
Finn looked both hurt and annoyed, which Sam neither understood nor cared about. He waved to Tina, and he and Puck went over to join her.
"Hey boys," she smiled.
"We're studs," Puck corrected.
She rolled her eyes. "Well, one of you is. How's the first day going, Sam?"
"Pretty well, thanks." Sam grinned at both her question and Puck's mock outrage. "It's a lot to take in, but so far everything is working out okay. How are your classes?"
She shrugged. "About what I expected. There's not too many surprises. Sometimes I wish I lived someplace bigger, you know? Where the curriculum was more advanced, or at least more interesting. Choices here are a little limited, but still better than in the rest of the county high schools."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, but there can be drawbacks to living in a large city, too. Lincoln, where I used to go, was huge. We had over four thousand students. The whole place was like one big factory, churning out drones. Most of the time, teachers didn't even bother to learn our names."
Tina winced. "That sucks." She leaned closer. "Not that the teachers here are all that great, but there are some really decent ones."
"Like Rice?" Puck suggested.
Sam managed not to blush. Tina was not so lucky.
Puck raised a brow and leered at her.
"He's really hot, okay?" she said defensively, fluttering her fingers. "I don't even like History all that much, though I do well in it, but Mr. Rice just makes it…better."
"You mean with that sweet bubble butt of his?" Puck prodded, bumping Sam's shoulder.
Tina scowled at him. "Why are you doing this?" she demanded. "Are you trying to piss me off?" She smirked. "Or is that you finally realized…" she trailed off and then startled. "Oh, wow. Did you?"
Puck blinked. "Huh?"
"Nothing," Sam said forcefully, glancing at Tina, who nodded quickly and smiled.
Puck rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He turned to Sam. "Thanks, but it's cool. Gothica here is good people." He shifted closer to Tina. "I don't know. Maybe? I'm trying to figure it out."
The corners of her mouth pulled upward. "There's more of us than you know. If you ever want to talk, just ask Kurt for my number."
Puck stared at her. "Really?"
"Which one are you asking about?" she purred.
"Um. Both?"
"The answer is yes. To both." She looked at Sam. "You too?"
"Yeah."
She nodded. "Hurt Kurt and you will know pain. And all I can say is that you better pray that Mercedes or me gets to you before Artie or Brittany gets the chance."
"It's not like that," Sam growled. "Why can't I just be his friend? Why is everyone trying to push me into something I'm not even sure I want? You don't know me, you don't know how I feel about this, and you don't even know what Kurt thinks about it all. Stop interfering."
Tina reeled back, eyes wide. "You're right," she finally said. "You're so right, and I'm sorry. I was out of line." She sighed and shook her head. "It's just that…"
"We want the Princess to be happy, you know?" Puck asked in a low voice. "It's really his turn, and if the dickbags of this school would just wake up to the fact that he's not out to convert or molest them or something, maybe he'd finally get his shot with someone who could make him happy. And," he looked down at his desk, "and you seem like a good guy."
Sam released a long, slow breath. "Look, I appreciate what you're trying to do. I appreciate that Kurt is your friend and that you're trying to help both of us, but I'm not ready to be in a relationship with anyone right now. I just want to be his friend, and from the signals I've picked up, that's all Kurt wants too. Yeah, we like each other, and there've been a few hints that maybe – maybe – it could go somewhere, but we're both…keeping our distance. And I don't think it's about fear of rejection. It's something else." He soured. "Or maybe it's because we've known each other for about four hours."
Tina and Puck had the grace to blush. Well, Puck scowled.
Will cleared his throat and Tina, Puck, and Sam all turned and regarded him with wide eyes. Slowly they came to the realization that they were the subjects of intense scrutiny. They hadn't been overheard, they were sure, but Puck and Sam could sense Finn's hostility, and Tina was already switching off her phone before Mercedes' first text could be received.
They scrambled to set up their materials.
Sam just hoped Mr. Schuester was a better Spanish teacher than he was a glee coach.
