A/N: I forgot to explain stuff in the last chapter. 1) VG or QL don't belong to me. Whoever owns them is far richer than I am. 2) For those who don't know but still might be interested in reading this, Quantum Leap was a TV show about a guy who leaps back in time to right wrongs, with the help of a hologram named Al and a supercomputer named Ziggy (hey, like the stardust!) I am done now, so on with the story!
Chapter Two:
Sam got to Curt's home fifteen minutes later. It was an old-fashioned brownstone, and Al hadn't been lying when he said it was in a nice area. The lawn was manicured and the walls inside freshly painted. The brownstone had been converted into apartments, and Sam tentatively tried the first door, hoping it was the right one. Luckily, it was, and he entered the apartment.
It was very bare, with only a couch, coffee table, and TV in the living room. The kitchen was off the living room and seemed just as empty. There was a small hall, which Sam walked down curiously. Three doors opened onto the hall; Sam opened the first one and peaked inside. It was a small bathroom, dimly lit even when he flipped the light on. He stepped inside and stared into the mirror.
The handsome features of Curt Wild stared back at him. Curt had stormy blue eyes, heavily lashed. His hair fell around his shoulders, half tied back, in platinum waves. He was pale, but not naturally so. It looked as though he'd spent far too many days inside, alone.
Sam shut off the light and left the bathroom. He moved down the hallway to the second door and flung it open. Inside there was a studio of sorts, with a few guitars, a microphone and a stereo system in the corner. The walls seemed to be soundproofed as well, so they neighbors wouldn't be disturbed. Sam wondered around the room for a few minutes, checking out the equipment eagerly. After he had circled the room twice, he left it, promising himself that he would play with Curt's instruments later.
The third door led to Curt's bedroom, another Spartan affair, with a queen size bed unmade against one wall. Sam glanced at the alarm clock by the bed. It was already 1 am. He walked over to it, and checked the alarm. It was set to go off at 8 am. There had to be a reason for it, so Sam shrugged. He stripped out of Curt's jeans and shirt, then reached for the pajama bottoms laying on the floor. He slipped them on, then climbed under the covers, drifting to sleep almost as soon as his head his the pillow.
*
Sam woke up the next morning to the wonderful smell of bacon cooking. He got up and headed into the kitchen, wondering if he had a girlfriend, or a cook. When he entered the living room and saw the girl at the stove, he decided the former must be true. She was beautiful, with a slim frame and shoulder length hair that was fading from blond to a more natural red-brown.
"Darling," she said, turning to look at him. "You're awake early."
"Uh, yeah, I guess." He took a deep breath. "Whatcha cooking?"
"Bacon and eggs," she told him, then smiled. "Don't worry, I brought muffins for you, too. I know how you hate bacon."
He loved bacon, but Curt apparently didn't, so he merely swung himself into the barstool that sat by the kitchen counter and said, "Thanks."
She flipped the eggs, then moved them onto a plate and handed them to him. "Go on then, eat up."
He was about to when he saw the redness in her eyes, the slight tremble in her hand. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing." The lie didn't sound right, and she knew it, so she began again. "The concert last night… It was hard seeing him like that. I shouldn't have gone. *We* shouldn't have gone."
He slid off the chair and wrapped his arms around her as she began to cry. He kissed her forehead, then her full lips in an attempt to comfort her like her boyfriend would have.
She pulled away. "Curt, I'm thankful for the attention, really, but you do remember that you're gay, right?"
"Oh," Sam said, then slumped against the counter. "Yeah."
Chapter Two:
Sam got to Curt's home fifteen minutes later. It was an old-fashioned brownstone, and Al hadn't been lying when he said it was in a nice area. The lawn was manicured and the walls inside freshly painted. The brownstone had been converted into apartments, and Sam tentatively tried the first door, hoping it was the right one. Luckily, it was, and he entered the apartment.
It was very bare, with only a couch, coffee table, and TV in the living room. The kitchen was off the living room and seemed just as empty. There was a small hall, which Sam walked down curiously. Three doors opened onto the hall; Sam opened the first one and peaked inside. It was a small bathroom, dimly lit even when he flipped the light on. He stepped inside and stared into the mirror.
The handsome features of Curt Wild stared back at him. Curt had stormy blue eyes, heavily lashed. His hair fell around his shoulders, half tied back, in platinum waves. He was pale, but not naturally so. It looked as though he'd spent far too many days inside, alone.
Sam shut off the light and left the bathroom. He moved down the hallway to the second door and flung it open. Inside there was a studio of sorts, with a few guitars, a microphone and a stereo system in the corner. The walls seemed to be soundproofed as well, so they neighbors wouldn't be disturbed. Sam wondered around the room for a few minutes, checking out the equipment eagerly. After he had circled the room twice, he left it, promising himself that he would play with Curt's instruments later.
The third door led to Curt's bedroom, another Spartan affair, with a queen size bed unmade against one wall. Sam glanced at the alarm clock by the bed. It was already 1 am. He walked over to it, and checked the alarm. It was set to go off at 8 am. There had to be a reason for it, so Sam shrugged. He stripped out of Curt's jeans and shirt, then reached for the pajama bottoms laying on the floor. He slipped them on, then climbed under the covers, drifting to sleep almost as soon as his head his the pillow.
*
Sam woke up the next morning to the wonderful smell of bacon cooking. He got up and headed into the kitchen, wondering if he had a girlfriend, or a cook. When he entered the living room and saw the girl at the stove, he decided the former must be true. She was beautiful, with a slim frame and shoulder length hair that was fading from blond to a more natural red-brown.
"Darling," she said, turning to look at him. "You're awake early."
"Uh, yeah, I guess." He took a deep breath. "Whatcha cooking?"
"Bacon and eggs," she told him, then smiled. "Don't worry, I brought muffins for you, too. I know how you hate bacon."
He loved bacon, but Curt apparently didn't, so he merely swung himself into the barstool that sat by the kitchen counter and said, "Thanks."
She flipped the eggs, then moved them onto a plate and handed them to him. "Go on then, eat up."
He was about to when he saw the redness in her eyes, the slight tremble in her hand. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing." The lie didn't sound right, and she knew it, so she began again. "The concert last night… It was hard seeing him like that. I shouldn't have gone. *We* shouldn't have gone."
He slid off the chair and wrapped his arms around her as she began to cry. He kissed her forehead, then her full lips in an attempt to comfort her like her boyfriend would have.
She pulled away. "Curt, I'm thankful for the attention, really, but you do remember that you're gay, right?"
"Oh," Sam said, then slumped against the counter. "Yeah."