Disclaimer: Glee and it's characters are not mine. And everyone else is just made up, so any correlation between non-glee places and people (alive or dead) are merely coincidences unless differently stated in the text.

Part 9/?


Chapter 9, Where Dante whistles while he works

Sam stopped abruptly when he found himself skipping along the hallways towards the auditorium. Why was he skipping? These past few days he had found himself smiling like an idiot at times. Probably the holiday spirit. Yeah, that was probably it. Surely it had no connection what so ever to the text message he had received in Spanish class.
[Sam, could you help me out with some stuff? I'm in the auditorium. xoxo Kurt] it had said.
He had replied and excused himself from the utterly boring reciting of irregular verbs. He had been about to fall asleep and was very thankful to have been rescued from death by boredom.
[OMW :)]

Once again Sam came to a halt. It was when he entered the auditorium and realized he must have fallen asleep again. On the stage, spread out like in the last dream, was Kurt. And there was music. Was it... Was it "Whistle While You Work"? On a piano? And played really badly. That breakfast burrito must have been way to old for this crazy dream.

The lights in the stage made the white sheet on Kurt glow, and he looked so pale. Deathly pale. Sam cursed himself as he hurried over to check on Kurt. As he reached the stage, another spotlight lit up, shining on an apple that someone had bitten a piece from. Sam felt a chill going down his spine as he hurried over to check if Kurt was breathing. Why was Kurt in his dreams so often lately?

"Prince Charming to the rescue!"
Sam heard someone clap slowly behind him and realized that the music had stopped. The weird kid with cat ears was there again. Now Sam knew it was a dream. But this time he was prepared for it.
"Why do you keep playing the hero?" the emo asked.
Sam placed himself protectively between the crazy cat person and Kurt, ready to lunge at a moment's notice. But the bastard just stood there, tossing the glass orb with Kurt's voice between his hands.

"I can stop you, this time!" Sam pointed a threatening finger at the black clad boy. He quickly glanced down at Kurt, and just as he suspected. Kurt's face was white as snow, his lips as red as blood, and in this lighting, his hair was black as ebony. With the apple and the setup, this was some weird Snow White version. With a wide smirk he knelt next to Kurt.
"You lose," he told the evil witch boy. "I... win!"
Then he fulfilled the fairytale by leaning down and kissing his Snow White tenderly.

At first he was chocked by how soft Kurt's lips was. And he tasted delicious. And since this was just a dream he didn't mind losing himself in the feeling of kissing the feminine boy, putting his hand beneath his head and lifting him to better reach for a longer kiss. The butterflies in his tummy felt so real, and the feel of those perfect teeth when he slipped his tongue into Kurt's mouth. He was both showing the bad guy that good always prevails, and getting quite... quite excited himself. He couldn't help wondering how it would be to kiss Kurt for real.

From the balcony Dante was watching and smiling to himself. Whistling softly to himself he patted himself on the back again. He could see clearly that Sam was enjoying himself. This was going smoothly. Well, it did until Kurt woke up and slapped Sam hard across the face. He felt a sudden chill inside, was he back to square one again now?

"What the hell, Sam?" Kurt fumed with fury, wiping his mouth with the hem of his snug, designer shirt while Sam checked so his jaw was still secure in its sockets. When he was confident he had not been slapped into looking like an orc he shot an insecure smile at Kurt.
"Dude I just saved you..." he gestured to the apple. "And it's just a silly Spanish class dream so..."
He trailed off as Kurt's eyes shot daggers at him and he knew he was just moments from getting another slap.
"Silly? Dream?" Kurt's voice raised in pitch quite a bit between the two words. Sam could see by the glaze on Kurt's eyes that he was about to burst into tears at any moment.

Sam grabbed his shoulders tightly.
"Please, Kurt!" he pleaded. "Please don't cry..."
Kurt straightened a bit and wiped his eyes, putting on that facade that was supposed to make everyone think all was well.
"So, what kind of awful nightmares are you having?" His voice was icy cold.
Sam swallowed and bit his lip before he decided that since it was a dream he might as well be honest, completely honest, for once.
"It was a bit of a nightmare at first, seeing you all dead and stuff..."
Kurt stared at him in disbelief.
"...but then it was kind of nice. Until you slapped me silly."
Kurt bit his lip putting his finger under Sam's chin.
"So..." he said slowly. "You're dreaming? This is all in your head?"
Sam nodded with a smile. He'd actually never dreamed a dream where it had been admitted to being a dream, but there was those strange things in them that made them feel real. Like that divine kiss.
"Then," Kurt continued, leaning closer, face reddening out of embarrassment. "You don't mind if I do this?"

If Sam thought that the first kiss had been wonderful, this one blew his mind to bits. It felt like his soul was ripped apart when Kurt pulled away after what felt like both an eternity and mere seconds.

"Shouldn't you get back to spanish before you wake up?" Kurt sad with a sad look in his eyes.
"I guess.." Sam pouted. "You're... You're wonderful Kurt."
Kurt smiled weakly.
"I would like to hear you say that for real too."
"I just might..." Sam said before he stole another kiss and started for the door. He made it quickly back to spanish class, leaned back and closed his eyes just in time to get awoken by the bell. With butterflies still in his tummy he went to get the books for the next class.

Dante chewed absently on his finger while he tried to figure out how this had gone so wrong. He also tried to figure out if this had been a good or a bad thing.

When the auditorium door closed, and Kurt was alone. He fell back on the bed of pillows, raised his arms in the air and screamed for all his sore throat could manage.
"I LOVE YOU, SAM EVANS!"


To be continued