This chapter is probably the smuttiest of the entire story. The plot decided to outweigh the porn this time around (and every time around, really).

Also, fudge bars are the least-calorie-intense ice creamish food you can get at Dairy Queen. It's amazing what you research in the name of accurate fanfic...

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How Things Work

Ice Cream Dates


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Sam had asked around about Kurt Hummel, had learned a lot of things about the boy sitting across from him at Dairy Queen. Most of it had been along the lines of 'he's a faggot with stupid clothes,' but Sam could recognize the hallmarks of high fashion. He had learned Kurt sang like a girl and that his mother died when he was in elementary school (only one girl had remembered that). Cruel and bitchy, surprisingly, had turned up as well, and a fair handful had referred to him as the Ice Queen (a title previously belong to one Quinn Fabray, until she got herself knocked up last year by one of the footballers, either Hudson or Puck. There was some confusion on that account).

But Kurt had also been a victim of dumpster tossing and slushie facials (that one was new to this school. Sam had never had a high school with a slushie machine before), of drive-by balloonings and yard furniture thefts. Sam had seen this show enough times to know how things went. Regardless of Kurt's true colors, the kid was an actor. The bitchy ice queen was how he kept himself safe, but it was also how Sam knew he could guarantee Kurt would be his. Kurt couldn't seem to stop smiling around Sam, everything from bright grins that clashed with the character he was trying to play to shy little smiles while he looked up through lowered lashes. The other boy was clearly enamored by Sam's attention: no one else at that school would have treated him like this before.

Sam laughed at some cynical observation Kurt made, watching the way the boy smiled around the fudge bar he had decided on (so much for loving ice cream). Still, Sam wasn't complaining as he watched those lips close around the cold treat. He nudged one of his shoes off under the table, leaning forward as he pressed his foot against Kurt's ankle. "So, junior year better than sophomore?" he asked, popping a spoonful of ice cream into his own mouth.

"Oh, definitely," Kurt said, the only indication he noticed Sam's foot a slight widening of his eyes. Sam would just have to try harder. "I guess the cheerleading nationals must have helped. I haven't been slushied once yet—knock on wood." He rapped his knuckles on the plastic table.

"I don't know why you even have a slushie machine here," Sam said, shaking his head and sliding his foot up Kurt's leg. The smaller boy's pants were far too tight to even attempt getting under them at this point. "I mean, half the slushies must end up on faces and the floor, from what I've seen..."

Kurt shrugged. "It comes down to the money. McKinley's stretched way too thin budget-wise—we hear Mr. Schu ranting about this all the time in Glee. The Cheerios have their own boosters, so their budget is ridiculous, but none of that money can go to the school... and the latest millage for school funding failed." He licked up the edge of his fudge bar, raising a suggestive eyebrow at Sam, who grinned back and tapped his foot against Kurt's calf. "Slushies are a dollar a cup, though nobody keeps an eye on the machine to make sure you don't get free refills. It's somewhat reassuring to know that every time we get a slushie to the face, that's another dollar, usually, going toward the school."

"You're joking, right?" Sam asked, shifting so he could get a better angle under the table, now rubbing behind Kurt's knee. Kurt stretched his legs out, opening up to the caress. "You have that much school spirit?"

"Of course not," Kurt said with a wry laugh. "We probably don't even get the honor of clean cups. But school fund-raising is the excuse as to why the slushie machine hasn't gone away. Rachel's dads have protested, but no one else seems to care."

"What about your dad?"

Kurt gave a little shake of his head. "He doesn't know how frequent they are. And I'd rather he didn't. What he doesn't know can't hurt him. It's bad enough when the pranks follow me home. He doesn't need to hear the details of what happens at school."

"Poor Kurt," Sam said. "You need some ice cream to make you feel better."

Kurt's eyes flicked to Sam's sundae and he shook his head. "No thank you, I'm fine with my fudge bar..."

Sam grinned, scooping up a spoonful of the melting soft-serve. "Come on, one bite won't kill your ass."

Kurt's lips twitched a little and he glanced around the dining room before giving a little nod and one of those shy smiles, transferring his own treat into his left hand to reach for the spoon.

Sam pulled it back, shaking his head. "Uh-uh. Open up."

Kurt blinked at Sam for a moment, giving another one of those glances around the room, before he leaned forward over the table and opened his mouth, his eyes locked onto Sam's own. Sam pressed the spoon between Kurt's lips, chuckling at the smaller boy sucked the spoon clean with a delicious (and fully intentional, Kurt's eyes told him) "Mmm..."

"You've got something on your..." Sam dropped the spoon back in his bowl and caught Kurt's chin before the other boy could pull back, leaning in to run his tongue over the drip of ice cream on Kurt's bottom lip. He felt Kurt's gasp against his cheek and grinned when he pulled back to see the blush spreading over the other's face. For all his Ice Queen reputation, Kurt was startlingly easy to fluster. "Ready to go?" he asked, their heads still close together.

Even though the ice cream wasn't gone, Kurt nodded quickly. Sam grinned, pulling his foot back and stuffing it in his shoe before standing up. Kurt picked up their trash and threw it out as Sam went to pull the door open.

As soon as Kurt was sitting in the passenger seat of his car, Sam was leaning over the console, one hand gripping the seat above Kurt's left shoulder, pressing their mouths together. Kurt abandoned his attempts to buckle up, instead surging up to return the kiss, his arms wrapping around Sam's shoulders. Sam chuckled into Kurt's mouth, skimming his right hand down Kurt's back and under his butt—Kurt wasn't even sitting on the seat anymore, so eager was he to kiss Sam. Sam squeezed Kurt's ass before drawing back from the kiss, leaving one lingering nip to the smaller boy's lips. "Much as I'd love to continue," he said, "this is really rather awkward." He gestured down to the console digging into his thigh, and Kurt followed his gaze, his eyes wide and dark. He gave a little nod, and Sam dropped a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "My place now? My parents won't be home until five..."

Kurt's eyes flashed up to Sam's face and he licked his lips, tongue lingering over where Sam had nipped him, before nodding again. Sam grinned and sat back in his own seat, buckling up. "Try to keep it in your pants until we get home." He reached over to pat Kurt's leg, but he 'missed' and ended up with his hand almost on Kurt's crotch, smirking at the strangled guh that escaped his partner's lips.

"You okay there?" Sam asked, rubbing his hand over Kurt's thigh, fingers sliding just down between his legs. Those pants really were tight—he could feel Kurt's tense muscle beneath the denim, even the slight line of more fabric beneath—boxer briefs, Sam guessed.

"I'm fine." Kurt's reply took a moment, but when it came, it was surprisingly level. Sam glanced over, surprised, and saw the Cheerio staring resolutely ahead, his jaw tight, cheeks flushed with color. Ah, Sam thought to himself. He's acting. "Just drive," Kurt continued, glancing sideways at Sam. "And don't crash." He reached down, covering Sam's hand with his own for a moment before pulling it off his leg. "I want you in one piece."

"Aye aye, sir," Sam teased, turning the keys in the ignition and backing out of the parking spot. "Buckle up!"

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Kurt managed to survive the car ride to Sam's house (a neat little bungalow, with Sam claiming the attic room as his own) without embarrassing himself further. He didn't have much time to admire the furnishings, though, before finding himself pressed against the wall, Sam's mouth fastened securely against his own. Somehow, they made it upstairs (after Kurt's spine made the acquaintance of several more walls, a light switch in the hall, and the corner of the banister) and Sam had tumbled Kurt backwards onto his bed.

Gasping, Kurt rolled his hips up, his head thrown to the side as Sam trailed sucking kisses down his throat. Their shirts had been discarded (not hastily—Kurt had folded his neatly) long ago, and Kurt was digging his fingers into the small of Sam's back as they rocked against each other. "So... fucking... gorgeous..." Sam was muttering against Kurt's sweat-slicked skin, closing his mouth over the jut of Kurt's collarbone and biting hard. Kurt spasmed beneath him, hips jerking, dragging their cocks together through the jeans they still wore.

"Do that again," Kurt panted, stretching down to grip Sam's belt, manhandling him into a better position. Sam's laugh was a puff of breath against his chest before he obliged, biting again. Kurt groaned deeply, wrapping one leg around Sam's and grinding up against him.

"You like it rough?" Sam asked, raking his nails down Kurt's sides, chuckling as the smaller boy writhed. "Never would've guessed, seeing you." He lapped at Kurt's chest, his hands creeping up again, tickling against the sensitive skin of Kurt's under arms, reaching for his wrists. "How about this?"

Kurt wailed as Sam suddenly pinned his wrists to the bed, leaning down to bite Kurt's nipple, tugging at the flesh with his teeth. He rocked his hips again, but Sam was moving, pressing his knees over Kurt's thighs, holding him down, his legs spread. "Please, please, please," Kurt chanted, giving stilted thrusts hopelessly into the air between them now, his hands twisting and clenching uselessly.

"Please what?" Sam asked, blowing across Kurt's damp nipple before worrying it between his teeth again. Kurt bucked on the bed, squeezing his eyes shut as he whined again.

"T-t-touch me!" he stuttered, digging his heels into the bed, trying to get enough leverage to move even with Sam's weight pinning him down. "Please, god... Sam..."

Sam laughed, partly in surprise as Kurt managed to get his hips off the bed for a moment, even with Sam kneeling on his thighs. He leaned forward, shifting both of Kurt's thin wrists into one of his own, reaching between Kurt's legs to palm the bulge in his jeans. "Like this?" he asked, squeezing.

Kurt gave another full body spasm, arching his back and thrashing his head on the bed, completely ignoring what this was doing to his hair. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes... no!" Sam looked up sharply at that change, rubbing his hand over Kurt's fly. "No, no, wait..."

"Another confession?" Sam teased, giving Kurt's nipple one last kiss before leaning up to catch his mouth again, still holding him in place. "What, are you really a girl?" He gave another squeeze, grinning as Kurt jerked.

"No," Kurt gasped, opening his eyes, wiping his forehead on his forearm as best as he could. "No, I just... I... nngh..." Sam raised an eyebrow and Kurt choked out his problem. "These jeans are Calvin Klein..."

Sam dropped his head to Kurt's neck with a laugh. "Don't want to get 'em dirty?"

Red-faced, Kurt shook his head, his embarrassment underlined by the hand that kept stroking and squeezing him through the denim. A little voice in the back of his head (which sounded suspiciously like Puck) was going Screw the jeans! Keep going! But the rest of Kurt's mind was cringing at the thought of wearing cum-soaked jeans until he could get home and change, and what if it left a stain? Or worse, what if his dad came across him trying to get to his room unnoticed?

"I can fix that," Sam said, kissing Kurt's throat before biting down, digging his teeth in almost hard enough to draw blood. His fingers slid up the line of Kurt's erection, popping open the button on his jeans and yanking his zipper down.

Kurt gasped, his dick throbbing as Sam slid his hand into Kurt's jeans and pulled at the elastic waist of his underwear. Sam shifted again, climbing off Kurt's legs to kneel between them. He pressed Kurt's wrists hard against the bed before releasing them, a silent warning to keep them in place. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, chest heaving, as Sam hooked both hands into the waist of his briefs and began peeling them down, taking the jeans with them.

Too fast... Kurt thought, clenching his hands to keep them from trembling. Oh dear god, he was going to be naked in another boy's bed. His heart was pounding in his ears, but Sam's mouth sucking at his throat and the skim of knuckles against his bare thighs were helping the Puck-voice in his head grow in strength. Screw the worry! Keep going! Kurt whimpered, biting his lip. I don't even really know him!

To his credit, Sam didn't pull Kurt's pants down very far, just enough to keep them clear of any mess. And then his hands were back, one squeezing Kurt's wrists again while the other slid up to his exposed erection.

It was over embarrassingly fast after that. Sam growled against Kurt's throat before biting down again, wrapping his fingers around Kurt's cock and stroking hard. Kurt yelped, stars exploding behind his eyes as he arched completely off the bed, feeling his own spunk spatter against his stomach. Kurt barely made out the sound of another zipper dropping over the roaring in his ears. He forced his eyes open to watch Sam tuck his hand in his pants, frantically jerking himself off. Me, Kurt thought. That's from me... Still breathing heavily through his open mouth, Kurt pushed himself onto one elbow and reached out, touching the weeping head of Sam's dick. He circled his fingers around the crown and gasped again as Sam groaned and came all over Kurt's belly.

As Sam sagged over Kurt, trying to catch his breath, Kurt dropped his hand and looked down at the mess. Strings of pearly white cum glistened on his skin, his pants were halfway down his thighs, and his right nipple was much, much redder than the left. He reached up, touching it gingerly, hissing faintly as it twinged.

"You okay?" Sam asked, voice just a little breathless. Kurt looked up at his eyes and nodded, a small smile creeping over his face. Sam grinned back, and then, after a moment, reached out to swipe his fingers through the cum on Kurt's stomach, mixing it together. He reached up, tracing his sticky forefinger over Kurt's lips. The smaller boy blushed, opening his mouth after a moment, catching Sam's finger with his tongue and drawing it into his mouth.

"Fuck yeah," Sam breathed, watching Kurt suck his fingers clean with awe-struck eyes. "I could get used to this..."

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Kurt was surprised by the lack of awkwardness he felt with Sam. Sam had given him a handful of tissues to clean himself off with, and after Kurt had pulled his pants up, Sam had distracted him from putting his shirt back on with a kiss. With many kisses, actually, and Kurt decided that shirtless make-out sessions really were quite fun.

When Mrs. White called upstairs to see if Kurt was staying for dinner, though, Kurt shook his head. "I promised my dad I'd be back by seven," he said, lifting an arm to glance at his watch.

Six-fifty.

"If we leave now," Sam said, sliding his arms around Kurt's waist from behind and peering over his shoulder at his watch, "I can probably get you home in time."

Kurt nodded, hastily reaching for his shirt. The moment it was on, he was flying out the door, running experienced hands through his hair and cringing at how mussed it was. He wouldn't be able to get it perfect before he got home, but maybe he could just convince his dad that they went no further than enthusiastic making out...

In Sam's car, Kurt pulled out a compact and winced at how debauched he looked. His lips were kiss swollen, a new look for him. He pursed his lips and studied his reflection for a moment before deciding that he rather liked it. But his face was horribly flushed, and the makeup he had applied earlier today wasn't doing much to cover it. There was also a rather impressive hickey on the side of his neck, too high for his collar to cover. It was already bruising, a deep purple. "You have severely limited my wardrobe for the rest of the week," Kurt grumbled, prodding the mark.

Sam laughed. "Don't tell me you didn't love it."

Kurt just smiled at his reflection before snapping the compact closed and rummaging through his bag. His black newsboy hat covered the worst of his hair disaster, and that maroon Hermes scarf would make a passable cover for the hickey. Of course, it didn't go with this shirt at all, but it only had to hide things until he could get to his room and tackle his appearance with his full arsenal of accessories and makeup.

"Do you carry your closet in your man-purse?" Sam asked, glancing over as Kurt added accessories. "What the hell do you have in there?"

Kurt sniffed, closing his bag and tipping his hat at a jaunty angle. "It was a gift from my grandmother," he said. "A portable hammerspace bag."

Sam raised his eyebrows, and Kurt grinned. "No, just a few key accessories to fix any fashion emergency. Almost any fashion emergency. Staples that can go with 95% of my wardrobe, just in case."

"Such as?"

Kurt gestured at the hat and scarf. "Hat, a handful of scarves in varying colors, one belt, three ties (one bow), a pair of gloves, big shades, a red t-shirt and a pair of black jeans tightly rolled at the bottom."

Sam blinked. "How do you fit your books in there!"

Kurt looked at his bag and shrugged. "I'm a remarkably efficient packer?" The accessories didn't take up that much space. The belt and the hat took up the most room (the jeans were thin and cheap and truly there as last resort only. Kurt would never wear them when not under duress).

"You are a man of hidden talents," Sam marveled, shaking his head. "Okay, it's right up here, right?"

"Yes," Kurt said. "Second one on the left." He unbuckled as Sam pulled into his driveway, shouldering his bag. "Thank you for the ride. And the ice cream. And... and everything else in between."

"No, thank you," Sam said, putting the car in park and leaning over to snag Kurt's scarf, dragging him close for another kiss. "See you at school tomorrow?"

Kurt gave a little nod, his fingers tight around the strap of his bag. "Yes... but no date. Cheerios..."

"Football," Sam replied. "See you around."

"Bye..." Kurt whispered, reaching behind him and fumbling with the handle.

It took Kurt a minute to find the right key to get inside the front door, which was rather alarming, as he only had five keys on his keyring, and then he found that the door was already unlocked anyway and he had successfully locked it. By that point, Burt had come up from the inside and opened the door for him, a flat look on his face. "I thought I told you seven."

"It is seven!" Kurt protested.

"It's six after."

Kurt blinked, checking his watch. Yep, 7:06. "Close to seven..."

Burt ran his hand over his head, making an exasperated sound. "Kurt, I love you, no matter what, and I'm happy you found a... a boyfriend, but this whole gay thing is still pretty new to me. Hell, this whole relationship thing is. I'm not used to you going out after school, period. And I..."

He trailed off, clearly trying to find the right words, but Kurt knew what they were. I worry. Burt had nearly had an aneurysm the one time he caught Kurt coming home after a drive-by pee-ballooning (Kurt made sure he was never caught again). He was not oblivious to the threats and slurs, though Kurt did his best to keep the worst offenders out of his notice. "I'm home now, Dad," he said quietly, stepping closer and putting his hand on his dad's arm. "I'm okay. Everything's okay. Nothing happened."

Burt clenched his jaw a couple times, looking like he was chewing on something before he spoke again. "I told you to be back by seven, and you show up late, looking half-molested, and I'm supposed to believe that nothing happened?"

Kurt dropped his hand, startled, and Burt's eyes widened a little, like he had just trod on a cat's tail accidentally. "Not that something happening is necessarily a bad thing," he clarified quickly. "Because I..." he nodded quickly, "I remember high school. But nothing... nothing bad happened? Nothing... you weren't... he didn't..."

"Dad?" Kurt asked quietly, waiting for his father to acknowledge him before continuing. "I really don't want to have a gay sex talk with you. No offense. I just can't see it going easily for either of us."

Burt's nods were a little firmer this time. "Yeah, yeah, I know. And I don't know anything about gay sex. I mean, I do. I mean... I did a bit of research. Tried to. In case you... you know... did have questions..."

"Oh god," Kurt mumbled, covering his face with one hand. "Dad, it's okay. I know how to use Google myself. You don't need to do any more research. Not any."

"Right." Burt cleared his throat, shoving his hands in the pockets of his flannel shirt. "So. Uh. You had a good time, then?"

Kurt gave a single deep nod. "Oh yes. We went to Dairy Queen. He bought me a fudge bar. I met his parents. They seem very nice."

"Good," Burt said. "That's good. Very good. His dad too? Not gonna, uh..."

"He's out," Kurt said with a shrug. "His parents aren't going to beat me up for dating him."

"That's good," Burt repeated.

Kurt took pity on him, reaching out to touch his arm again. "I lost track of time. I'm sorry. That was my fault. We did leave his place before seven, but we hit every red light. I should have let you know I was coming home."

Burt gave a little shake of his head and a rueful half-smile. "Six minutes late. You've always been good about your curfew. I... can't get mad at you for enjoying yourself on your first date..."

"I'll do better next time," Kurt said. "I'm sorry for making you worry."

Burt just shook his head again, reaching out to squeeze Kurt's shoulder. "You're a good kid, Kurt. Now go get yourself cleaned up for dinner."

Kurt nodded, dropping his hand and turning to head toward his room, but his dad stopped him by calling out his name.

"Yes, Dad?"

"You didn't answer my question." Burt was looking a little uneasy. "Nothing bad happened?"

He stuck his hand in my pants, Kurt thought. A little fast for a first date, maybe... but Spanish... so a second date? And I did ask for it, in a way... "No," he answered with a hint of a smile. "Nothing bad at all..."