Warning: Sexual content and language
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, gosh darn it. Shut up.
A/N: I feel left out. All the other fics about Sam/Kurt involve Sam as a set up for Finn/Kurt or Puck/Kurt or Whatever-the-hell-you-ship/Kurt. Due to peer pressure this fic will probably turn into Kurt leaving Sam because he(Samual, that is) is a raging alcoholic who only wants sex and says things like "that shit was so cash" therefor Kurt dumps him after Sam attempts to have the football team gang bang in the showers, somehow or another ending in a Finn/Puck/Kurt/Whatever-the-hell-you-ship gay orgy thing. And Sam will then commit arrested and commit suicide. I mean, that's all the Sam/Kurt fics rolled up into one sexy plot line.
Sam: Okay, no, bitch.
Me: Fine.
(I do love Kinn though. A couple days ago I was like, "meh" but now I'm like jdjdsklajflkshflsdh;;; LOVE.)
It's 2:22 in the morning as I write this. I AM NOT WELL RIGHT NOW.
Jesus, why do I ramble so much.
This is awkward.
Here he is with a slutty blond cheerleading heck of a woman draped over him—horny as hell—eager to strip him of his clothing and seize his vital regions and all he can think is, this is awkward. Sam recounts that getting down and dirty with sexy women has never been awkward before. He also recounts that he doesn't get down and dirty with sexy women all that much.
Or at all.
When exactly was the last time he got down and dirty with a sexy woman?
Oh, yeah, Becky Tinkers, sixth grade. That was awkward. But he blamed the awkwardness on the fact they were, like, twelve, for God's sake and lacked pubic hair. He figured having sex before you've even reached the age of growing pubic hair was just the definition of awkwardness and that was that. Obviously there's more to it. However, he must stop thinking about it because the thought of naked twelve-year-olds and pubic hair does not help with the awkwardness at hand.
Or maybe this is the punishment of Our Lord Jesus Christ.
"HELLO, SAMUEL CORNELIUS EVANS, THOU SHALT NOT FORNIFICATE BEFORE MARRIAGE. I SHALL NOW BESTOW UPON YOU THE FEELING OF AWKWARDNESS AS A PUNISHMENT FOR YOUR SIN," Jesus would say.
"But, Jesus, my middle name is Christopher!"
Nah.
Maybe the situation is just awkward because of who he's with—a slutty blond cheerleading heck of a woman.
It could be because A) he isn't attracted to sluttiness B) he isn't attracted to blonds C) he isn't attracted to cheerleaders or D) he isn't attract to . . . Brittanys.
Yeah, Sam thinks, that's probably it.
Sam feels more or less like a creeper as he watches Finn and Rachel converse in the hallway, but that's okay because Finn and Rachel are even creepy.
That's a lie.
They're sort of perfect, Sam thinks. The perfect couple—image—thing. It's annoying and it makes him jealous. He figures he has some deep-down-emotion-longing for a perfect life—like in the movies, and books too, he guesses, but he doesn't read. His life sucks, his parents suck, Brittany sucks—a good kind of suck, a suck that does not turn him on, but it's a suck that he's sure other boys would quite enjoy.
But basically what he's seeing doesn't suck—suck's for him—but not for Finn and Rachel.
Know he knows why he wants Rachel.
Because she's the reason Finn doesn't suck (metaphorically and literally.)
Glee Club Meeting Today in the Club Room After School.
"Okay, guys, you know how we cover other artists songs and make them are own?" Mr. Schuester asks the class.
"Oh really, I haven't noticed," Quinn says.
"Well, I was sitting down last night, watching TV, plotting against Carl—um, watching TV when Moulin Rouge! comes on. Then it came to me: why don't we do a cover of a cover?"
Rachel perks up. "El Tango de Roxanne," she states.
The teacher points at her. "Just what I was thinking." He then turns his attention to Finn and Sam. "You two are up."
The stage is dark and Sam can't see anything. He knows that he and Finn are looking suave in black tuxes and Rachel is looking glamorous for once—sexy even—in her bright, bright red tango dress. But that's about it. He wishes he could see, he believes God gave him eyeballs for a reason.
He sniffs.
His nerves are making him think like a pansy.
Okay, one, two, three, go.
Go.
The music should have started by now.
Go, go, go. The awkwardness of last week is coming back—the music starts; the lights snap on—oh, hallelujah. The awkwardness simmers out.
His eyeballs work again.
One, two, three, go.
"We have a dance!" Sam says, as he and Rachel saunter towards each other. She doesn't look like Rachel at all with her bright red lipstick and all her dark hair topped on her head in a neat bun. She looks like a prostitute—which he guesses fits.
A pretty prostitute.
"In the brothels of Buenos Aries tells the story of a prostitute. And a man . . . who falls in love . . . with her." The two start to circle around each other slowly, their faces dangerously close. "Then . . . passion! Then . . . suspicion! Jealousy! Anger! Betrayal! Where love is for the highest bidder, there can be no trust! Without trust,
There is no love! Jealousy. Yes, jealousy . . . will drive you . . ." He looks at the audience and shouts, "mad!"
"Rox"—he turns back to Rachel and suddenly dips her—"anne!" He yanks her back up and they start a tango like dance.
"You don't have to put on that red light
Walk the streets for money
You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right!"
The dance, Sam thinks, is very saucy. Which is what he wants, he planned it to go like this.
"Roxanne
You don't have to wear that dress tonight
Roxanne
You don't have to sell your body to the night!"
Then there is Finn. He stands in the back, covered in shadows. Slowly, he begins to step out into the light. His voice looks actually concerned, as if this is real. He sings,
"His eyes upon your face
His hand upon your hand
His lips caress your skin
It's more than I can stand!"
"Roxanne!" Sam sings.
"Why does my heart cry?" Finn sings.
"Roxanne!"
"Feelings I can't fight
You're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me
And please believe me when I say I love you!"
"Roxanne!"
"Why does my heart cry?"
"Roxanne!"
"Feelings I can't fight!"
"Roxanne!"
"You don't have to put on that red light! Roxanne!"
"Dude!" Finn says after Glee Club. "That was—that was—what was that?"
Sam turns and quirks an eyebrow. "What was what?"
"That!"
"Specificity never hurt anyone, Finn."
"I mean, you took that way too far, man!"
Sam purses his lips. "What to far? Finn, sense you make not."
"Wha. . ."
"I'm sorry, I forgot you're kind of an idiot. Um, please explain what it is you're ranting about."
"Um, the . . . The Roxanne Tango."
"El Tango de Roxanne?"
"Yes, that!"
"What about it?"
"You were way to into it," Finn explains. ". . . All over Rachel."
"Was not."
"Was too."
Sam a wave, shaking his head while looking down. "Finn, I'm not going to play this game." He glances back up. "Besides, I had a revelation back there."
"A reve—what?""
"I realized that I'm good. I'm freakin' good. Great even." He smirks. "And I kind of don't need you anymore."
"Don't need me? Don't need me for what?"
"For everything. I don't need a mentor. I mean, what would be the point of me having a mentor that's less talented than myself."
"Sam, what the hell are you saying—"
"And you know what? Rachel was all over me too."
Finn doesn't reply. He just sits there with one of his usual dopey faces and Sam doesn't want to look at it.
He leaves, feeling badass.
A/N: Sorry if this sounds like it was written by a drunk person. I'm on writer's block. (Sorry for typos and what not.)
ALSO. How is Finn going to discover Sam's singing talent? In the shower. (Says spoilers.) I so called this. I was going to do it in this fanfic but thought it'd be too cliché. Dang.
ALSO AGAIN. There was, like, no Kurt in this chapter. Gross.
. . . Tomorrow is my first day of school. Yay. *saracastic-gay-limp-wrist-motion*
"Don't cry for me, Argentina—AAAND I'MMM TELLIN' YOU." -Chris Colfer