Trouty Mouth and the Leprechaun
Author's Notes: Sorry for the incredibly long delay in posting this new chapter. As you are most likely aware, FFnet made a large purge of sexual stories, and the anger that ran through my veins blocked my motivation for about a week. I removed for the time being my sex-only one shots, and will definitely inform you all when a new home has been made for them. I couldn't risk them taking this story down. I've put way too much into it, and you all have given me way too much feedback for it to disappear. I hemmed and hawed over the conversations in this chapter so I hope they turned out okay. They're the other reason it took me so long on this one.
Beta Credit: Ragnarok45
Recap: Sam and Rory shared in their one year anniversary at the aquarium, and then later, Sam found out about Rory's entry into The Glee Club Project, where he got accepted for an audition in January. They took Blaine to a bar and they had a bit to drink so Blaine slept over and spied on his friends having sex, and now everything's awkward and that's what you missed on Glee!
Episode 35: F & F
Sam sat alone in the break room of the radio station, quietly eating his lunch and reading a comic book. Comics were one of the few things he deemed important enough to read even though his dyslexia made it particularly difficult. Recently, he had discovered Ultimate X-men and was catching up on the more recent series. He was so engrossed in the recent death of Cyclops (again) that he didn't notice anyone else come in.
"Hi," a friendly, deep voice greeted. Sam looked up at the speaker – a young man around his own age with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and glasses. He beared a very slight resemblance to Kurt, but much more masculine features. "Mind if I sit down?" the man asked, more to be polite than anything – there was no other place to sit down in the break room. Sam shrugged and motioned for him to have a seat. "I've seen you around but we haven't officially met. I'm Robert. Robert Wright."
Sam smiled and held out his hand. "I'm Sam. Nice to meet you," the blonde replied. Robert shook his hand and then set to unpacking his lunch. After a few minutes of awkward silence, he finally decided to break the ice. "So, uh… what area do you work in?"
"Marketing," Robert answered, arranging his meal neatly on the tabletop. It was nothing special – a simple sandwich and chips, cookies, and a drink, but he seemed to take great effort in making it look presentable. He noticed Sam looking at his oddly. "I'm OCD about my food. I like the presentation to look nice." Sam simply nodded.
"That sounds fun. You get to do all the promotional stuff and make posters and flyers, right?" Sam asked.
Robert laughed. "I wish! I'm at the bottom rung of the ladder. I get to do the-"
"Crap work," they finished together, laughing.
"Yeah, that. Stuff that nobody else wants to do but it still needs to be done," the brunette explained. He took a bite of his sandwich before continuing. "It's not so bad though. I'll get to the good stuff sooner or later. What about you?"
Sam finishing chewing, swallowed, and then answered. "Assistant. Just doing random stuff nobody feels like messing with. Same thing as you I guess," he replied. Robert continued to look at him as if he expected Sam to go on, but Sam didn't know what else the other man was expecting to hear.
"So… just passing time? Or you have something else in mind?"
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I want to get an album. Sam Evans Unplugged or something," the blonde snickered. "I'd settle for being a DJ though. Something with music, ya know?" Suddenly he felt really stupid, as if his answer seemed incredibly immature compared to a man who wanted to be in marketing. It didn't help matters that he was reading a comic book.
Instead of judgment, however, Sam found Robert to actually be interested. "Well what do you do? Sing? Dance? Write songs? Play something?"
"Well, I sing mostly. I can play guitar pretty well too, I guess," Sam answered, trying his best to sound modest. "I was in my high school glee club the past two years."
Robert raised an eyebrow at the mention of glee club. "Well that's funny, because I used to be in my high school glee club, too. Of course, I did prop work. I can't sing for anything. I helped design props and flyers and stuff. It was a lot of fun."
Sam noticed that Robert seemed to be paying close attention to him, his eyes tracing Sam's features, glancing down on occasion to the rough hands of the former football star, as if examining them for quality. "Sorry, I wasn't meaning to creep you out," the marketing assistant chuckled, noticing Sam's discomfort at being looked over. "I just have a habit of paying excessive attention to detail. You can learn a lot about a person just looking them over." Sam wasn't sure what to say to that, so he retreated to his sandwich, chewing slowly to draw out the pause and cue Robert to pick up the conversation.
"By the way, I hate how Cyclops never stays dead. I can't stand him. Give me Storm any day of the week. Now she has power and personality," the slightly older man noted, nodding toward Sam's comic book and hoping to erase the awkwardness he had inadvertently created.
"You read X-men?" Sam asked, surprised.
Robert looked at him curiously. "Sure. I've been collecting them for ages. All the old stuff I got on a DVD in PDF. 'Forty Years of X-men.' Everything from nineteen-sixty three until mid two-thousand five."
"Seriously? That sounds awesome!" The blonde was suddenly very excited to discover that he wasn't the only person over sixteen who still had passion about comic books.
"Hell yeah I read X-men! X-men, Fantastic Four, The Avengers, you name it, I got it. It's my guilty pleasure," the collector said excitedly. The two men continued to discuss their passion of comic books for another several minutes before finally returning to talk of work.
"You made it sound like you're fresh out of high school. This your first job?" Robert seemed to be ignoring his own food, using it more as something to keep his hands busy rather than actually bring to his mouth to eat. Between getting to know his new associate and sharing in a common interest, he hadn't bothered to focus on his lunch very much.
"Second job. I used to deliver pizzas until I got mugged. That's when I decided it was time to look for something full time," Sam explained, reaching for his drink and bringing to his lips, nursing it.
The young marketing associate smiled and nodded. "Mugged? I doubt you'll get mugged here. I hope this ends up being worthwhile for you, though. You're in the right place if you want to start getting connections of some kind," he offered.
"I like it so far. It pays the bills. I can't complain," the blonde stated, shrugging. "I figure everyone has to start at the bottom and work up."
"Bills, huh? So do you still live with your folks, or do you have a roommate or something? Rent is way too high for you to be living alone," Robert asked unexpectedly. While it was a perfectly harmless observation and question, to Sam it seemed a little too personal.
"Something like that," Sam answered. Robert cocked an eyebrow once more, suddenly quite intrigued as to the meaning of that reply. "Uh you know, long term relationship kinda thing. We live together on our own." Sam's faced flushed a little as he struggled for words. He wasn't sure he wanted to lay out this kind of information to a stranger he had just become acquainted with, especially at work and bringing up these kind of topics often led to more questions. Things were much more comfortable when they were talking about comic books.
"Oh, okay. Long term is good. Too many people our age just hop from one girl or guy to the next," Robert laughed. "So what's she like, your girlfriend? I mean, is she into music and singing, or does she do something else?"
Sam was feeling more uncomfortable by the second, unsure of how to get past this conversation. What had started out as friendly idle chit chat had quickly become way too personal for his liking, but he knew Robert was just trying to be friendly, getting to know what he hoped was a new friend. At least that was the message Sam was drawing from his questions. He just hoped and prayed that Robert didn't ask if he had a picture of his 'girlfriend.' The only pictures on his phone were of himself and Rory, or his family. If he at least had a picture of Quinn, or any of the other glee girls, he could play it off. He opted for lying.
"Oh, uh yeah, singing," Sam responded, his face hot. He was a very bad liar, and if Robert asked anymore specifics, he'd have trouble dodging the queries. He'd be able to feel Robert's eyes on him, boring through into his brain to see the truth.
"That's cool. Keeps you two close. What's her name?," the man asked. Sam swallowed, knowing he'd never be able to play this off. Robert had apparently noticed his internal struggle, because he gave Sam a friendly smile. "Or I mean, if it's a boyfriend, that's okay too. I was just asking out of conversation. Sorry if it's too personal." The way he emphasized 'boy' was a little unsettling: it was as if he somehow knew exactly what Sam was hiding.
The brown-haired man shrugged, but Sam felt cornered, as if he should answer anyway. "No, I just... Here, I'll just show you a picture. This is… this is my boyfriend." Taking a deep breath, and hoping for the best, he unlocked his phone and started swiping icons until he found a picture of Rory. It was one of his favorites, from their lake vacation. Rory was holding up the fish he had caught, smiling happily. He gulped one more time, and then handed the phone to Robert.
"Oh, I get a picture? Cool," the man said. He looked at it for several seconds, beads of sweat forming on Sam's forehead as he began to worry. He should have just said his name and been done with it. What possessed him to show the man a picture? Pride. He was proud of Rory, not ashamed of him, and he enjoyed showing him off. It was almost like he was waiting for the chance to present a picture, but he should have just said his name and left it at that. He felt slightly more at ease, however, when the corner of Robert's mouth turned up into a smile.
"He's very handsome. What's his name?" Robert asked, referring back to his original question, but this time emphasizing the proper gender.
"Rory. He's Irish, and an excellent singer. Way better than me, that's for sure," Sam declared with newfound confidence. "We've been together a year. He's an exchange student, but… we're making it work."
Robert cocked his head in thought as he handed the phone back to the other man. "Well, Sam, that's pretty awesome." Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't been afraid that Robert might try and hurt him, he'd been afraid he might make trouble for him with his job, and he couldn't afford that right now. Instead, the other man seemed just fine with it.
The two men finished their lunches, trading stories about their glee club days. Robert stood up finally, and offered Sam his hand. "So, Sam, nice to see I have another nerd to talk about comics with," he said with a smile. "I gotta get back work though."
"Yeah, me too," Sam replied, shaking the man's hand firmly. "See you later!" They parted with smiles, Sam standing to tidy up the table before grabbing his comic book and putting it in his locker. It was comforting to make a friend at work, especially one who seemed gay-friendly. Or was he gay himself? Robert hadn't really said either way. Sam shrugged, then slid his phone from his pocket. The picture was still on there. He couldn't help but grin. He finally put his phone back in his pocket, turned off the light, and walked out to the hall to return to the workroom.
-ooo-
Rory was in the locker room, showering after a rather intense session of basketball in gym class. He was getting better and better, his height giving him a slight advantage. As per his new routine, he spent about ten to fifteen minutes doing a little extra solo practice, leaving the locker room practically empty by the time he was ready to shower. Ever since the commentary he had overheard, he had become incredibly self conscious and avoided showering with the other students if he could manage it.
"Uhm, hi," came a timid, familiar voice. Rory just barely heard it as his head was under the shower head, washing soap from his hair. It scared him at first but then he recognized who was speaking to him.
"Hi, Mitchell," Rory greeted the small redhead, rinsing his face of any lingering soap. "I didn't think anyone else was in here."
Mitchell averted his eyes, embarrassed at his sudden intrusion. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to talk for a minute," the boy said softly. Why Mitchell had chosen this moment to have a chat, Rory didn't know. Here he was, naked in the shower, while Mitchell stood dressed and dry all of five feet away just outside the shower zone, only the small divider between the two of them.
"Well, sure, but uh… can ye' let me finish up first? Talkin' in the shower is a little awkward, don't ye' think?" the slightly older teen suggested, not wanting the younger boy to feel like he was being brushed off.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't think about that. We can talk some other time, sorry," Mitchell apologized profusely, blushing slightly.
"Don't be sorry. Just go sit on the bench next to me locker. It's number forty-two. I'll be out there in a minute, and we can talk," Rory offered. His curiosity was piqued. What does he want to talk about? Glee?
The red headed boy nodded his head and scurried back into the locker room, still embarrassed. Rory quickly finished his shower, turning off the water and drying himself off with a towel before wrapping it around his waist. He trotted into the locker room, his flip-flops clapping loudly on the floor of the nearly empty room. When he arrived at his locker, Mitchell was sitting on the bench, a worried look on his face.
"So… what did ye' want to talk about?" Rory asked, cutting right to the point. He didn't have too much longer to get dressed and head off to his next class. He was digging through his locker, pulling out his shoes, followed by his jeans and shirt, socks and boxer-briefs.
"Well, I… I'm sorry to bother you, I-" Mitchell began, but Rory interrupted him.
"Wait, stop a second," the Irishman said. Mitchell's eyes widened, almost in fear. "Stop apologizing. Ye've done nothing to need to be apologizin' for. If ye' promise not to apologize for nothing anymore, keep going."
The redhead opened his mouth, almost apologizing again but catching himself before the words left his lips. "I wanted to… well, I wanted to ask you about… you, and Sam Evans." He shifted his gaze downward as if ashamed, which Rory took advantage of by slipping into his underwear without being watched.
"Okay. What do ye' want to know?" Rory eyed the nervous boy, who was wringing his hands and shuffling his feet beneath the bench. Mitchell opened his mouth several times as if he were going to speak, but hushed himself before expressing to Rory what was on his mind. "Mitchell? Are ye' gay?"
Mitchell seemed taken aback by the question, as if he hadn't expected it to be asked outright that way. He stared at his feet, his breathing speeding up slightly. Rory had hit the nail right on the head. "It's okay if ye' are. I am. Ye' can talk to me." Mitchell nodded slowly, keeping his head down.
Taking a cue from Sam when he was insisting Rory look at him, the taller boy reached down with his index finger, sliding it under Mitchell's chin and forcing the smaller boy to look up at him.
"It's okay, Mitchell. I won't tell anyone. It's our secret," Rory promised, smiling softly. He pulled his hand back, certain that the boy wouldn't look away. He didn't.
"Thank you. Thank you so much! I just had to tell someone! I- it was eating away at me, I feel like I've had to hide and I'm scared, but when I heard you were dating that boy, Sam Evans, I thought maybe you were safe to talk to, but I couldn't get up the nerve until now to say something," Mitchell blurted out in a blur of dialogue. "I mean, I'm sorry I came to you when you were in the shower, but nobody else was here and I didn't know when I might find you alone again."
Rory couldn't help but giggle. "I'm nobody to be afraid of, Mitchell. I promise, it's okay to talk to me. How about this? Why don't we be friends?" Rory hopped up just a moment to fit into his pants a little better before reaching for his shirt and pulling it over his head.
"Friends?" Mitchell repeated timidly.
"Sure. Friends. Friends aren't afraid to ask each other stuff. Friends feel safe with each other; they look out for each other. Friends don't judge ye', and they back ye' up. What do ye' think? Want to be friends?" Rory smiled at him, trying to ease the boy's nerves with his kindness. He wanted to make sure he was projecting sincerity to him, so he kept his gaze locked on him.
"That would be amazing!" the red head exclaimed excitedly. "So you don't mind if I ask you stuff? Or tell you stuff?"
"Of course I don't mind. It's what ye'r supposed to do when ye'r friends. Talk things out."
"There's so much I want to ask you, but I don't know if I should. Some of it's kind of private," the younger teen admitted, blushing and staring down at his feet again.
Rory smiled. "Just ask what ye' want, and I'll answer what I can. No judging, remember?"
"Okay," Mitchell replied, looking back up and smiling. "But… can I think about my questions first?"
"Yes. In fact, that's probably best, since I need to get to me next class. But uh, first, put my number in ye'r phone, in case ye' want to call or text me," Rory replied, waiting for the boy to pull out his phone before reciting his phone number. Mitchell sent him a quick text message so Rory could save his number as well.
As the two boys grabbed their schoolbags, they slowly walked out of the door back out to the gym, parting ways at the door to the school. Mitchell turned to thank Rory one more time before waving goodbye to him.
That poor kid. He's so scared. I hope I can help him. Maybe Sam can, too. And Blaine. Maybe the three o' us can help him get comfortable with himself.
Rory's thoughts were interrupted by the vibration in his pocket. A new text message.
Thanks again, Rory! I'm happy we're friends!
Rory couldn't help but chuckle at the excitement the kid had. He quickly typed back a reply before stepping into his classroom.
My pleasure. TTYL Friend
-ooo-
Rory looked up from the computer terminal he was typing into upon hearing the jingling sound of the bell hanging on the door to the bookstore. He grinned widely when he recognized the customer as his boyfriend.
"Rory! Your hottie boyfriend is here!" Ginny called, despite the fact that she was standing right next to her coworker.
"Oh, he is? Tell him I'll be right there," Rory yelled back. Sam looked at them like they were nuts, shouting back and forth like they were miles apart. Rory stepped from behind the counter and smiled. "Hi, Sammy!" he exclaimed happily.
"You two are weird," the blonde chuckled. "Good to see you having fun at least. Ready to go?"
"Oh, he's been ready. In fact I thought he might run out of here screaming," Ginny replied for him. Sam furrowed his brow in curiosity. "I've been assaulting him with song suggestions for his audition. He's entirely too picky though. He didn't like any of my ideas."
Rory snickered and turned to face the girl. "That's because ye' suggested the Spice Girls. After that, I couldn't take ye' seriously." All three of them started to laugh at the absurd suggestion. "Time to go, Sammy. I'm hungry and the Spice Girl is scaring me," Rory finally announced.
"I guess you heard that, then," Sam replied, nodding toward the giddy woman. "Better take the kid home before he gets whiny. See ya later, Ginny," Sam joked, giving the girl a smile. Rory dashed back behind the counter, ducked down to grab his bag, and reappeared next to Sam.
"See you tomorrow Rory," Ginny said. She shifted her gaze to Sam and bid him farewell with a wink.
As soon as they were in the truck, out of hearing distance from anyone else, Rory began to giggle. "I think Ginny, she has those hots for ye'." He poked Sam in the chest as if accusing him of something.
"You do, huh? She's gonna have to get over it, then, since I've already been claimed," Sam smiled, taking hold of Rory's accusing finger and pressing his lips against it affectionately.
Sam let go, and shifted the truck into gear, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road. On the way home, they both shared the details of their day, including the acquisition of their new friends.
"Maybe it'd be nice if we had them over one night. Ye' know, for dinner or a movie or something. What d'ye' think?" Rory asked, eager to not only meet Robert, but to introduce Mitchell as well.
"We could invite Sugar over again. Maybe this time she'll give us an entire new bedroom set," Sam joked. He had no real intention of taking advantage of the delusional girl, but he also wouldn't say no if she were offering free stuff, either. Well, as long as she understood Rory was off limits.
Rory rolled his eyes. Sam's joke got old rather quickly. Usually his wisecracks would elicit a chuckle at least, but whenever Sam joked about Sugar, the Irishman got slightly annoyed. It was only because he felt sorry for her. She needed attention from everybody, not just a boyfriend. He was still pushing for Artie to talk to her, to try and woo her. Artie had been down since glee fell apart, his cynicism and sarcasm having turned into bitterness.
"Maybe instead, we should try and get Sugar to go out with Artie," Rory suggested. "I just don't know how."
"Has he actually asked her out?" Sam asked, not taking his eyes off the road.
"I don't think so."
"Well, that might be a good start. She won't know he's into her if he doesn't tell her," Sam replied. "Maybe you should just accidentally mention it in front of her," he suggested slyly.
Rory was about to scold him for being sneaky, but they were interrupted by the sound of the Star Wars theme playing. Sam's cell phone. "It's ye'r parents," Rory stated, picking the phone off the seat and checking the caller ID. He slid his finger across the screen to answer it. "Hello?"
"Rory, is Sam there with you?" came the calm, level voice of Mr. Evans. It was the same tone he used the night he told Rory that Sam was at the jailhouse.
"Yes. He's driving. We're on our way home from the bookstore," the teen answered. "Is something wrong?" he asked, detecting the overly calm tone of the man's voice. Sam took his eyes away from the road for just a moment, glancing to see what was going on by Rory's reactions. He heard the boy finish the phone call and put the phone facedown in his lap.
"What's up?" Sam asked once Rory had hung up, a look of concern filling his green eyes.
"Dad says for ye' to call him when we get home," the teen said. Sam scrunched up his face, confused and not liking the sound of things. "We're almost home, Sammy. Just drive."
Sam sighed and pressed the accelerator just a little more than he should have, but he was anxious to get home and find out what was going on. If Rory knew, he obviously wasn't going to tell him, and Sam hated secrets, hated being left out of the loop.
Rory gazed out of the window, refusing to look in his boyfriend's direction. He didn't know what was going on, either, but he knew that whatever it was, Mr. Evans wanted Sam off the road when he told him. He also knew that if he looked over at Sam, the fear in his eyes would show itself.
The ride home lasted less than ten minutes, awkward silence filling the truck while Sam sped down the road. He pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex, threw the truck into park, and practically jumped out of the vehicle. Rory was much slower, taking his time to amble out of the truck and follow Sam to the stairwell.
Please let everything be okay. Please let it be something stupid, Rory kept thinking over and over again. Sam was fumbling with the door key when Rory joined him in the hall. As he shut the door behind them, Sam already had his phone out, having dialed his former home number.
"Dad? What's going on? You're scaring me a bit," Sam said into the phone. There was silence as Sam listened intently to his father. Rory simply stood and watched him with concerned eyes, trying to read Sam's reactions. The boys had paced into the living room while Sam waited for his father to answer, and now they stood in the middle of the room. Sam was biting his bottom lip.
"W-was it… it was the… c-cancer, wasn't it?" Sam managed to ask. Rory didn't like the sound of that. Cancer was a death knell in his mind, and the way Sam's eyes were quivering, someone dear to him had suffered.
"I… I understand," Sam choked out. "Yeah, I'll talk to my boss in the morning." Rory gulped as he watched his boyfriend struggling to keep himself together. "Yeah, Blaine can take care of him," he said next. Rory cocked his head, wondering who Blaine would be taking care of. "I'll be okay. Yeah…. Uh huh. I'll tell him….. I love you, too, Dad."
Sam pushed the icon that terminated the call, his empty hand turning white in a fist. Before either boy could say anything, Sam hurled his phone onto the couch with brute force.
"FUCK!" he shouted, his tears finally flowing. Rory didn't ask any questions, but closed the small distance between them and wrapped his arms around Sam. His boyfriend was trembling, sobbing. Rory could feel hot tears falling onto his shoulder as he gently rubbed his back. "It's not fair…" Sam mumbled.
"What happened, Sammy?" Rory finally asked. There was no way he could properly bring him comfort if he wasn't even aware of what the actual problem was. "Please, tell me."
The older boy continued to tremble, his anger welling up inside of him. "My aunt. She's… gone," was all he could muster up before sobbing again.
Rory didn't ask any more questions. He was finally able to put the pieces together. Apparently, Sam's aunt had been fighting cancer, and must have lost the battle. There wasn't any need for Sam to go into detail right then.
"Come on, Sammy. Let's go lay down," the Irishman suggested, knowing that if Sam could at least lie in their bed and let his body relax a bit, he could let his emotions flow, and hopefully cry himself out until he fell asleep. He would just have to feel a little better in the morning.
Sam allowed Rory to take his hand and lead him into the bedroom. The Irish boy urged him onto the bed, sitting next to him. He reached down and slid Sam's shoes off, dropping them to the floor. He kicked off his own, turned, kicked up his own legs onto the bed, and lay back.
"E'erything will be okay, Sammy," Rory whispered, snaking his arm over Sam and pulling them closer together. "Just let it out, and let ye'rself tire." The blonde did just that. He cried, sniffled, and cried some more. Rory simply lay there with him, his arms squeezing tight.
The younger teen felt Sam's body trembling less and less, noticed his breathing slowing down to a normal rate. His sniffles were subsiding. He was tired. He was falling asleep. "I love ye', Sammy," Rory whispered into the older boy's ear. He had no desire to wake him if he had fallen asleep, but he would never let a day pass that he didn't utter those words to him, either.
After lying still with his slumbering boyfriend, Rory finally allowed himself to relax and willed himself to tiredness. He was afraid to let go, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy, not wanting to take away his security blanket for the moment. He would just end up with some extra sleep, and be ready to face the day a little sooner tomorrow.
God, please take care of Sammy and his family right now. Help them get through their pain. Help Stacy and Stevie understand what happened. Help them keep their spirits up even in sadness. Please, God, help Mom and Dad stay strong. Sam and Stacy and Stevie need them now. Give them strength. And God, give Sammy the strength to face it. Please love him harder than you ever loved him before. Rory said this silent prayer in his head, never forgetting that even if the church disagreed with him, God was still listening.
Lord, please bless Mam and Pap, and Seamus. Keep them safe. I love them so much. Keep everyone at home safe.
Satisfied that he had covered everything for the night, he gave himself over to sleep, the dreamless slumber a welcome gift.
-ooo-
Rory rolled over and smacked the screeching alarm clock, accidentally pushing it into the floor. He sat up, reached down and picked it up, silencing the intrusive noise. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and looked over at the other side of the bed, noticing that Sam wasn't there. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and forced himself to get up. Around midnight, he had gotten up and stripped down to his boxer briefs, but when he went back to sleep, Sam was still in his jeans and t-shirt. Once he had fallen asleep, Rory dared not do anything that might wake him – including removing his pants. He couldn't possibly have slept very well in the thicker fabric.
Padding into the bathroom, Rory saw that Sam was standing in front of the sink, adjusting his tie. He was wearing dress pants, dress shoes, and a white button-up shirt, his hair combed neatly to the side. Rory could see in the reflection that his boyfriend's eyes were still red, his face flushed as well.
"Ye' look nice, Sam," the teen said softly. "Isn't it... early, though?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to upset the blonde with too many questions. Sam turned and gave him a weak smile, the sight of the other boy leaning against the doorframe bringing him a sense of comfort.
"The funeral will be this weekend. Today my parents are just going down there to... to help out with things. There's a lot to take care of. I just want to be there for support today," he replied simply. They met eyes, Sam's filled with sadness, Rory's with worry. He knew there was far more information Sam could disclose, but apparently he didn't feel up to explaining everything.
The Irishman stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the older boy, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry, Sammy. Ye'll tell me if I can do anything to help, right?" Sam nodded, the reply placating Rory's growing sense of helplessness about the whole thing. "How long will ye' be gone?"
"Just today. I'm driving down with mom and dad, then coming back this evening. Saturday we'll go down there again for the services. Might stay through the weekend, I dunno yet." Sam's answer came in a tone that was almost distant, as if he were reciting a speech that someone else had handed him at the last minute. Rory released him, standing back and staring into his eyes again. "Can Blaine-" Sam began to ask, but Rory interrupted him before he could finish. "Blaine can pick me up from work. He won't mind. He can take me to school tomorrow, too, so ye' can sleep in a bit extra."
"Thanks, but I'll be okay," Sam replied, giving another weak smile. "Go ahead and get ready so I can drop you off, okay?" he suggested. Rory nodded, finally turning away to head back into the bedroom to select his clothes for the day. Before he opened the closet, however, he picked his phone up off the desk and sent Blaine a quick text.
Can you pick me up this morning? Will explain later.
He didn't want Sam to have to worry about anything more than necessary, and if he could save him one more chore, all the better. By the time he had finished choosing his outfit, Blaine had returned his message.
Sure. you okay?
Not wanting to alarm his friend, he typed back another quick message.
Yeah, Sam just needs an early start. Thanks. Door unlocked. Hugs!
He dropped his phone back on the desk and poked his head out of the bedroom door, his eyes catching Sam sitting at the table, staring morosely at a bagel. "Blaine is goin' to pick me up this morning. So ye' can do what ye' need to do today and not worry about me. Take care of ye'r family."
Sam stood up and crossed the room in a quick stride, pulling Rory into his arms. "That's so thoughtful of you. You're amazing." He smiled at him as he let go of him - this time a genuine smile of appreciation. "I guess that means I can get a start out there, then."
Rory nodded. "Yeah. Ye' need to get going. I'm taken care of."
"I know," the blonde stated. "Like a boy scout - always prepared and ready." He hugged the boy one more time, then kissed him softly on the mouth. "I love you so much."
"I love ye' too, Sam. Drive safely, and text me when ye' get there, so I know ye' got there safe," the young teen instructed.
Sam gave him a nod and a fake salute. "Yes, sir!" He actually managed a slight giggle, something that he needed right then. Smiles, jokes, and laughter always made difficult situations just a little bit easier. He kissed the boy one more time, then turned to leave, checking his pockets for his wallet and keys. Before he pulled the door closed behind him, he called back into the apartment. "Finish my bagel? We can't afford to waste any!"
"I will!" he heard Rory call back from the bathroom. Feeling slightly better, Sam pulled the door closed and made his way to the staircase, reflecting on the fact that had the best boyfriend in the world: someone who understood he needed time for his family.
-ooo-
Blaine checked his watch as he stood at the door to Rory and Sam's apartment, waiting for an answer from his friend. When he didn't get one, he shrugged and opened the door, stepping inside. "Rory? You ready?" he called.
"Almost!" Rory called back. He hadn't expected Blaine to be so early, but then again, he forgot his friend liked to stop at the Lima Bean drive thru in the mornings for a cappuccino.
Blaine wandered further inside, deciding he may as well get comfortable on the couch while he waited. What he didn't expect was for the bedroom door to be wide open as he walked through the home.
"Be just a moment, ye' got here sooner than I thought," Rory explained, not thinking to actually close the door. Blaine turned toward the room to dismiss the statement, but when he did so, his friend had just started to pull up his underwear, giving Blaine a full view of the firm, round globes of his rear for just a moment.
"Oh, uh, sorry!" Blaine apologized awkwardly. He turned back around, his face flushing in embarrassment. Rory neither heard him nor noticed he had seen him. He was too busy humming a tune to himself. Why do I keep catching him naked? Well this time it was innocent, but last time I saw him getting it from Sam! They're my friends, I shouldn't be looking at them like that. Kurt is who I should be thinking about. Kurt, Kurt, Kurt, Kurt. He kept saying the name in his head over and over again, almost as if swearing at himself.
"Sorry I took so long, I forgot ye' like to get ye'r coffee in the morning," the younger teen apologized, bringing Blaine out of his self-scolding. He came rushing out of the room, his bag on his shoulder, his fingers quickly working the buttons on his shirt to finish closing it up. "All set now!"
The senior smiled innocently, averting his eyes and leading them outside of the front door. He paused a moment in the hall while Rory locked the apartment up, and they walked downstairs to his SUV. Once they were safely buckled in, Rory decided to explain what was going on.
"We found out last night that Sam's aunt died," he stated flatly. "He was so upset, he threw his phone and cried himself to sleep," he added, the worried tone returning to his voice.
"I guess they must have been very close," Blaine assumed. A look of confusion crossed his face when he noticed Rory shrug to his comment.
"I didn't ask questions. He was so upset, I didn't wanna make it worse. He can give me details later, but I didn't want to make him cry anymore. He was already so hurt," the Irish boy explained. His friend nodded in understanding, although he himself would have given his own boyfriend the third degree, just to get him to talk through his pain. Everyone dealt with sadness differently, however, and apparently this was how Rory and Sam chose to do it.
The two teens made small talk the rest of the way to school, stopping at the Lima Bean to pick up coffee before arriving at the prison for students known as McKinley High. Blaine quickly agreed to giving Rory the rides he needed, also wanting to help Sam in any way he could. He understood how it felt to lose a family member; he had lost both grandparents on his mother's side two years previous.
"Don't forget, I won't be at lunch today. Working on that project with Tina. I'll still take you to work and pick you up tonight, though," Blaine reminded him. Rory nodded, thanked him, and the two friends parted ways to their respective classes.
-ooo-
When Rory entered the cafeteria, the only person he saw sitting at their usual table was Artie. He knew Blaine and Tina weren't going to be there, but what about Sugar? This would have been a perfect chance for her and Artie to do some bonding. He returned the nod that Artie gave him, stopped by the lunch line to grab a carton of milk, paid, and joined his bespectacled friend at the table.
"Where's everybody at?" Artie asked right away, looking around.
"Blaine and Tina 'ave a project to work on. I 'aven't seen Sugar today," Rory replied, pulling out a chair and sitting down. He opened up his lunchbag and removed his sandwich.
"Her dad picked her up and took her to lunch. I'd be surprised if she comes back this afternoon though. Not the way her father is always whisking her away for whatever 'awesome' stuff rich people do," Artie said, sighing. He was obviously disappointed that she was not joining them—the one time each day when he got to spend any time with her.
Rory smiled knowingly. "Ye' really like her, don't ye'?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Everyone did.
Artie blushed slightly but then asserted himself. "Yeah, but I don't think she likes me. She's after you. Anyone with a pair of eyes can see that," he lamented.
"But I'm not interested, and ye' are. I bet if ye' asked her on a date, she'd say yes," Rory insisted. "Don't act like ye' can't do it. I've ne'er seen ye' back down from a challenge. No, not Artie Abrams." Rory was trying to play on the teen's ego. If he could get Artie on the defensive, he might just try to prove something and ask her out.
Artie scowled. "Oh, stop, Irish," he said. He seemed to think on it just a moment, however, and it was that simple moment that gave him an idea. "Well, maybe I should try. It can't hurt. I mean, I was dating Brittany for half a year. If a girl like her can go for a guy like me, maybe I do have a chance with Sugar. The question is, how do I go about this?"
The Irish teen scratched his head, deep in thought. He really had no idea how to woo a girl. The only thing he'd ever tried before was deception, and he did not approve of anyone doing that. Not after he learned his lesson. Not after he hurt Brittany, even if it did help push her along with Santana. Suddenly he had an epiphany.
"Sing to her! O' course! Catch her in the hallway, and sing to her!" Rory exclaimed excitedly. "It just has to work. It just has to," he insisted.
Artie nodded, thinking on it further. It sounded like a good idea. "You may be on to something there. If I can get her to pay attention and be wowed, she might just accept." He grinned, his eyes behind his glasses beginning to shine. A plan was forming in his head. "I have to make this spectacular. If I'm gonna do this, I gotta go all out."
"That's the spirit! Practice ye'r song tonight, and sing it to her tomorrow. I'll be nowhere in sight, so she won't be focused on anything but ye'."
Their conversation was interrupted by the timid voice Rory had begun to get used to. He always had to pay careful attention to the speaker because he was always talking so low, almost like he was afraid someone may actually hear him.
"H-hi, Rory. You said I could eat with you. Is that okay? I don't want to interrupt," Mitchell asked hesitantly, clutching his lunch tray nervously.
"O' course it is! 'Ave a seat," Rory said, smiling. "Artie, ye' remember Mitchell, right? He tried out for glee club."
"Oh yeah, I remember you. You did a great job, it sucks that we didn't get to show off a little more," Artie said, giving the boy a friendly smile. "Artie Abrams, in case you forgot." He held out his hand to shake – a gesture that reminded Rory of Sam.
Mitchell shook the boy's hand and smiled back. "Thanks. That's really nice of you to say," he said quietly. Having sat down, he quickly busied himself with taking out his lunch, not making eye contact, obviously nervous in the presence of his new friends.
"Uh, Mitchell?" Rory began, causing the boy to look up at him. "Don't be so nervous. We're ye'r friends now. Nothin' to be scared of," he said, noticing the slight shake that other teen had in his hands.
"S-sorry. New people make me a little uneasy."
"Kid, we may not be a glee club anymore, but we're still a bunch of friends. We're missing a few today because of projects and stuff, but we're still your friends. Calm down, relax, be easy," Artie encouraged the small teen. Rory gave a sigh of relief, pleased that Artie was being so accepting and supportive of his new comrade.
Mitchell nodded, trying to relax his nerves. "I've always been like this. Jittery. Anxious. I'm sorry."
"Quit being sorry. Just chill, right Rory?" Artie said, looking at the other boy for approval. Not wanting to make things any more awkward, he shifted the subject. "You're a sophomore, right?"
"Yeah. My first year here though. I transferred in," the red head explained. "I used to go to Thurston but then we moved."
The three boys continued with idle small –talk – Mitchell going on to tell them about his experiences at –Thurston: he was a professional loner, and while he'd been dying to join the school's glee club, he hadn't felt comfortable enough to try out. He was quite the academic, having a proficiency in science and history, but he had yet to make any friends at McKinley. At least until Rory and the rest of the former glee club. By the time lunch was over, Mitchell had felt much more at ease, and had even agreed to assist Rory with his chemistry and made a song suggestion for Artie to use when he serenaded Sugar.
-ooo-
I'll be home around midnight. Don't wait up. Everything is fine. I love you.
Rory smiled at his phone, reading the text message twice. He hadn't heard from Sam all day, but on the way to work, he received the text and felt instantly better. He hoped that perhaps Sam would be up for talking about his aunt more once he had gotten home and slept, but he didn't want to push him, either.
"Rory, you seem quiet today, is everything okay?" Ginny asked after he had been at work for an hour. Usually when they stocked the shelves, they traded amusing banter, chatted about strange customers, or sing along to the radio, but today he was almost mute.
"Yeah, I'm okay. Just worried about Sam. His aunt died yesterday. He's really upset," he replied sullenly. "I don't know really what to do. I ne'er had anyone die that I was close to."
Ginny looked pensive. "Well... I think the best thing you can do is to just give him lots of affection and make sure he knows he can talk to you. Of course, it should be like that anyway so I guess that isn't very helpful." She twirled her finger in the air dismissively, realizing that what she had said was rather pointless.
"No, that is helpful. Ye' basically just said I don't 'ave to do anything special. Just do what I always do," he countered. "It makes perfect sense." He smiled at her, his eyes shining for the first time all afternoon. "Thank ye'!"
Ginny chuckled and shrugged. "Sure, no problem. Anytime." After that, the silence was broken for the evening and they returned to their normal, playful selves.
Rory was ringing out a customer when he felt his phone vibrating on his hip. He quickly finished up and motioned to Ginny that he was going to the back for a moment. He quickly walked to the employee door and answered the phone. It was Sam.
"Hey, baby," Sam said softly. "How're things going?" The sorrowful tone in his voice was hard to listen to, but there was no way Rory wanted Sam to know he was worried about him. It would only upset him more.
"It's fine. Me shift is almost o'er. Blaine's coming to pick me up and we're going to the grocery store to visit the salad bar," the young teen informed him, trying to keep his tone cheerful.
After a pause, Sam replied. "Good. I'm glad he's taking good care of you."
"Are ye' on ye'r way home yet?" the Irishman asked. He was hoping that Sam was indeed on his way and that he might arrive sooner than he estimated, since Rory knew full well that he would never get to sleep worrying about his boyfriend on the road late at night.
"Yeah. Leaving in just a few minutes." Sam's voice was tired. He may as well have been a zombie speaking into the phone.
"Ye' sound like ye' might fall right asleep. Why not come home tomorrow?" Rory asked, preferring for Sam to stay overnight and drive after a good rest.
Sam sighed softly. "No, I'll be fine. I'm not as tired as I sound. I promise. I'm gonna grab some coffee to keep me going."
Rory huffed slightly. "I don't like the idea of ye' driving so late. Please be careful, and if ye' got to stop for a hotel, do it. I want me Sammy back home safe, ye' hear me?" Sam couldn't see him, of course, but the boy was standing with a hand on his hip as if lecturing a child. Sam mumbled some sort of affirmative. "Ye' better get here safe or else I'll be like me pap and get ye' right good with me belt! Ye'll be striped like a bass!"
The young teen suddenly heard the most wonderful sound he could have at that moment; laughter. Sam's laughter. Sam was laughing, which meant he was smiling. "I hear ya, babe. I'll get home safe. I've seen your belts: they look a little scary."
"Ye' better," Rory said seriously. He heard Sam on the other end trying to get himself under control. His little joke hadn't been that funny, but in times of sorrow, something that was mildly amusing could suddenly become the most hilarious thing in the world. "Get going. I love ye', Sammy. Come home to me."
"I love you too, baby. So much. I'll be home late, but I'll be home," the blonde assured him. He was about to sign off, but he stopped. "Thank you, for making me laugh. It's the first time I've smiled all day, and of course only you could do it."
Rory smiled on his end of the phone. "Anything to make ye' smile. See ye' in a few hours."
"You don't have to- aw hell, who am I kidding. You're staying up, aren't you?" Sam chuckled, knowing full well his boyfriend would be waiting anxiously for him to enter the apartment.
"Ye'r damn right. I love ye'. I better get back to work. Drive safe," Rory replied, hating to hang up, but excited to get him on the road and on his way back.
"Love you too, baby. Bye," Sam said, disconnecting the call. Rory gave a sigh of relief. He had been hoping to talk to Sam all day, but didn't want to call or interrupt him with more text messages. After taking a moment to get his head back together, Rory stepped back out to the public part of the store to finish out his shift.
-ooo-
After Blaine picked him up from the store, they stopped at the Fresh Market, made salads, and took them home to eat. Surprisingly enough, when he checked the mailbox before heading up the stairwell, they had a letter. It was addressed to him, and again the TGCP logo was in the top left corner.
Blaine went on to the table and sat down, unpacking his salad container. Rory wandered in after him, set his container down, and fumbled with the letter. Blaine watched intently as Rory's eyes moved back and forth across the paper, reading the words.
"What is it?" he finally asked.
"It says me audition has been moved. It's January fifth. That's not a lot of time to prepare," Rory answered. "I don't know if I'm ready for all this."
Blaine smiled and shook his head. "You're totally ready, Rory. You're one of the best singers I've ever heard. You have feeling and emotion when you sing. All you need is the right song, and you'll blow them out of the water."
"But swim season doesn't start until next semester," Rory responded, confused yet again. Blaine simply chuckled and put his hand on his forehead, looking down.
"One of these days, you're going to finally get the hang of American expressions."
Personally, the Irish teen thought he was doing quite well, since Americans had so many types of slang, it was so hard to keep up, but he had mastered some of it. He recalled thinking that trash talk was discussing trash, but Finn had explained its real meaning. He laughed at his memory, which Blaine assumed he was laughing at his reply.
"I'm just saying, you're ready. You can do this, and you can win it. Not just for the glee club, you know, but for yourself. It's not all about glee. This is a personal challenge, too," Blaine went on, staring Rory right in the eyes. "Just think – if you win this, you can be so proud of yourself. You'll prove that you have what it takes to be… to be a star!"
Rory smirked, sitting down at the table. Blaine had retreated to eating his salad, seemingly unnerved by their eye contact, something that his Irish friend was oblivious to. My God, he just reminds me so much of Kurt. The dark brown hair, the fair skin. The kind eyes. Why does he have to make me think of Kurt so much? It hurts, knowing he's states away and I can't see him. But every time I look at Rory, I see Kurt. Dammit.
"Blaine? Are ye' okay?" the younger teen asked, finally noticing something seemed off about his friend. "Ye'r starin' off into space. Ye' feelin' alright?"
The senior shook his head, bringing himself out of his daze. "Uh yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just tired. Missing Kurt, you know, typical long distance blues." He tried to feign a smile, some sort of indication that he really was okay, but Rory wasn't buying it.
"He's coming back for the holiday, though, right?"
"Yeah. I'm so excited! He's gonna be back for three weeks! Three whole weeks!" Blaine exclaimed, suddenly brightening up. "I guess it just seems so far away."
He was greeted with the bright smile of his younger friend, the perfect toothy grin that admittedly, was much more beautiful than Kurt's. "That's only a week and a half away, ye' know. I can't believe ye' 'aven't been keeping track."
He was right. How could Blaine have forgotten? Kurt was coming home in less than two weeks and he hadn't even thought about it. Instead, he had spent all of his free time with Rory and Sam, trying to stay out of his sadness, and here the source of his despair was coming home, coming to spend time with him, and he didn't even realize how soon it would be happening. What the hell was he thinking?
-ooo-
It was well past midnight by the time Sam arrived home. Rory had attempted to stay awake to greet him, but Sam found him on the couch, fast asleep, the television playing reruns of The Simpsons.
He looks so cute laying there. I hate to wake him up, but he's gonna have aches and pains all day tomorrow if I leave him there, Sam thought. Hoping that perhaps the sounds he made as he unwound himself would wake the sleeping boy and he wouldn't have to worry about it. First, he picked up the remote off of the floor where it had dropped from Rory's hand, and turned off the television. Next, he walked to their bedroom and stripped down to his underwear.
Even after a trip to the bathroom to brush his teeth, he hadn't made enough noise to wake his slumbering boyfriend. He resolved to pick him up and carry him the short distance to the bedroom—and if he woke him in the process, then he woke him.
Sam knelt down next to the couch, sliding one arm under Rory's legs, and the other under his back. With a deep breath and a hefty lift, he managed to pull the boy into his arms. Sam was exhausted, and thankfully the bedroom was not very far. By the time he set foot through the threshold and reached the bed itself, he was ready to drop him. In fact, he did. Right onto the mattress.
Rory's body landed on the soft cushion of the mattress, the jolt pulling him from his sleep. "Wha- what's goin' on?" he asked sleepily. "Sammy? Sam is that ye' there?"
"Sorry about that. I meant for a better landing than that," the blonde apologized with a laugh. He bent down and kissed Rory on his soft lips – a gentle, innocent kiss to give him a proper greeting.
"Next time, just wake me up," the Irish teen mumbled. "Ow, I think I hit me head." He rubbed the top of his head, assuring himself that he had indeed made contact with the wooden headboard.
"Aww, I'm sorry babe," Sam apologized again. He pressed another kiss on the boy – this time on the top of his head. He stood back up and walked around to his side of the bed, sitting on the edge and then sliding his legs under the sheets. "Try to get back to sleep. We can talk in the morning." Rory was already yawning as his boyfriend spoke, the words barely registering in his head.
Feeling guilty for having dropped the teen, Sam promised himself that he would do something special for him to make it up to him. He wasn't sure what yet – perhaps bring him lunch, or a snack at work. Either way he would do something to ease his guilt.
The coffee had finally worn off, and it was around one in the morning when Sam closed his eyes and surrendered to sleep.
-ooo-
Rory lay in Sam's arms, his body broken and bloody, with some sort of yellow and white muck oozing from the open wounds that decorated his skin. Sam was shouting at the top of his lungs for help, and finally Mr. Schuester arrived from seemingly nowhere. He tried to shake the teen out of unconsciousness, but there was no hope for him. He was fading fast.
Sam recognized their location: the high school gym. On the white wall were dark streaks of blood and whatever this yellowish muck was smeared down to the floor, where several pools of the crimson liquid streaked with yellow had gathered. The trail followed along the floor until it stopped at the dying teenager, a large, red puddle underneath his body, the golden gel changing color to something that resembled snot.
There was so much blood. Far more than any normal human being had in their body. Sam's jeans were soaked as he knelt down on the floor, every inch of his boyfriend splattered with red, yellow, white, and green. Sam was convulsing with sobs, the entire time Mr. Schue shaking the boy in Sam's arms, trying desperately to help.
Sam cried out for help again and again, but no more help came. Mr. Schue reached for his phone, but it melted into a black tar in his hand, burning the skin and adding tiny drops of clear ooze to the pool of red at his knees. The blonde teen screamed more and more, his vision distorted. All he could see was red, as if looking through bloody lenses.
Sam expected to see Azimio Adams, but instead he saw something more disgusting – a large amorphous blob making a squalling noise. He let go of his boyfriend and pressed his hands against his ears, trying to block out the noise. It was getting louder and louder, deafening. Just as Sam thought his head would explode, everything went silent. That's when he felt the sharp burn of a large blade being driven through his back, the tip protruding from his chest. He had been impaled from behind by a machete. His body poured more and more gore, spraying Mr. Schue, who collapsed for no apparent reason. Not only had he collapsed, but he was starting to change form – from a human man into another blob, something that smelled like rot. As Sam's vision because hazy, he looked around and saw every single one of his friends fall to the floor, pools of blood creeping from under their dead bodies and beginning to boil. Where had they come from? Why was the blood bubbling and streaked with… the same disgusting gel he had seen Mr. Schue turn into? As he pondered these questions, the bubbling liquid seemed to crawl up and over every body in the room except his own, each person melting into pure rot underneath it. He finally realized what it was – it was infection. It looked exactly how a wound looked when it had become infected and went untreated. An infection. Like cancer.
Sam woke up, sitting upright, gasping for air, his body covered in sweat and trembling. He felt like he was drowning, but within a minute, he got himself under control. He looked next to him and saw that Rory was stirring, possibly coming out of his second sleep of the night. What had spawned that horrible nightmare? It was his aunt who had the cancer, not Rory, not his friends. That didn't mean they couldn't develop it. That had to be it, fear. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around the boy, just wanting to know he was real, that he was safe and alive. He felt him turn over, and Sam simply squeezed a little tighter. Satisfied that he was going to be all right, he lay back again and stared up at the ceiling as he tried to fall back asleep, praying that he wouldn't be revisiting the dream anytime soon.