Sam chewed on his lip on the way to school. It was sleeting - a perfect, icky mixture of snow and rain that reminded him far too much of a slushie. Except a flavorless slushie falling from the sky for ten hours straight. He shouldn't be driving like this, on the icy roads with his heart beating out of his chest, even with the brand new tire chains he'd bought last week. The sky was gray, and usually he found this kind of weather beautiful, but this morning it just seemed foreboding.
He couldn't help but look around for Kurt's SUV as soon as he pulled into the parking lot, but he didn't see it. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and climbed out of his truck and looked around, distracted for a moment by the coldness on his face and puffs of steam in the air when he breathed. He rubbed his hands together and started walking toward the front doors of William McKinley High School. That's when he saw him.
That small figure at the sidewalk, getting out of a shiny black car. He was dressed in a fancy plaid rain coat, and leaned back into the car - to grab his bag or...something - before closing the door behind him and moving so Sam could see the driver through the passenger window. No.
He started walking fast toward the car, and it didn't take him long to get there.
"Hey, Sam," said Kurt, but he ignored him and leaned up against the car, sticking his head into the window. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Kurt answered. "He...Sam, he was just giving me a ride."
Sam couldn't keep the hostility out of his eyes as he turned to look at Kurt, who, despite all his usual self-assurance, seemed to shrink under Sam's harsh gaze. "I don't like driving in this weather," he said, his voice smaller than usual.
Sam shook his head, adopting a kinder look. "Why didn't you ask me?"
Kurt's face softened as well, and he placed a mittened hand gently on Sam's arm. "Sam...didn't you know?"
His eyes hardened to ice again as he looked back at Blair, who was looking between the two of them in a sort of amused way. "How many black eyes do I have to give you before you get the hint to stay the fuck away from him?" he growled.
Kurt's eyes went wide. "You did that?"
"I'd like to point out," said Blair, "That you never actually told me to stay away from him."
"I'm telling you now."
"You really don't have a say in the matter." Blair's little smirk was infuriating, and Sam had to hold himself back from opening the door and dragging the kid out of the car and beating him to a bloody pulp on the sidewalk. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to be late to my school. I'll see you later, sweetheart," he added to Kurt, blowing a kiss before driving off quite too fast for state of the road.
"How could you go back with him?" Sam was still angry, but he tried to cool it off. It wasn't really Kurt he was angry at, anyway. At least, he didn't think so.
"I really don't see why you'd care," Kurt said, tightening his grip on his books and starting to walk into the school.
Sam followed. "I thought...I thought we were friends, Kurt."
Kurt turned around abruptly, a fire of his own in his eyes. "Really, Sam? Because I'm pretty sure last time I checked, friends don't punch their friends' boyfriends in the face." He pivoted on his heel and stormed off down the hall, and Sam kicked the nearest locker so hard he dented it.
Well, this pretty much killed his plans. In Spanish class, he crumpled his sheet music into a ball and threw it into the nearest wastebasket, not bothering to pick it up when it bounced off the rim and fell to the floor. He tried to concentrate on his work - Lord knew he needed all the help he could get in Spanish - but it was useless. There was a burning in the back of his eyes and throat that told him he wanted to cry, but he couldn't, not here in front of his entire class.
"Are you feeling alright, Sam?" Mr. Schue asked, and Sam jerked out of his angry daydream (something about ripping Blair's skin off and feeding it to zombies - he had to stop playing Nazi Zombies so late at night, that shit was messing with his brain), and Sam just shook his head. "Do you need to step out for a minute, or go see the nurse?" Sam blinked a few times, then nodded, and left the room.
He wasn't sure where he'd go, or if he wanted to go anywhere. He leaned up against a wall, put his face in his hands, and slid down into a slumped sitting position. He held himself together enough to not cry, but he knew he could. He knew any little thing might tip his emotional balance.
"Um, excuse me..." said a familiar voice to his right, but when he looked he could see no one. The voice was coming from the direction of the stairs. "I can hear you up there..." it said. "Do you think you could help me out? Hello?"
Sam stood up and headed toward the stairs, only to find Artie balanced precariously on the staircase, unable to move in his wheelchair. "Oh, Sam, thank God it's you," he said, giving a little forced smile.
"Who did this?" Sam asked, dropping his bag at the top of the stairs and going to help Artie. He grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and hoisted him up the stairs, careful not to drop it or tip Artie out.
"Karofsky. I may be on the football team now, but apparently the puckheads have declared themselves the new rulers of the school," he explained. "Thanks. I've been there for at least fifteen minutes waiting for someone to come by."
Sam smiled, and shrugged his shoulders. "What are friends for?"
Artie smiled a real smile this time. "I would've tried to get out myself, except I'm pretty sure I would have fallen. They've had a lot of practice figuring out how to put my chair just so..." He trailed off, starting to wheel himself off down the hall, and Sam grabbed his bag and followed. "So, what are you doing out of class?"
"I was um...just getting some fresh air," Sam said. "It's been a rough day. What class do you have next?" He was pushing Artie now, toward one of the new handicap accessible ramps Coach Sylvester had had put in last year.
Sam didn't make it back to Spanish class that day.
He was feeling a little guilty as Mr. Schue asked him how he was feeling in glee club later in the day. "A little better," he lied, gazing emptily at the piano and the untouched guitar in the corner. Right about now he should be using those to prove his love to Kurt Hummel. He probably still could, but there were a few things Sam Evans could never be, and one was a cheater. No matter how he disliked Blair, he wasn't about to steal his boyfriend.
No matter how much better I am for Kurt...
He shook his head and tried to pay attention to Mr. Schue talking about crescendos, but it wasn't much use, and he found his concentration drifting to the whispered conversation being carried a few seats away from him.
"So he asked you to take him back?"
"Mhm." Sam could almost hear the smile in Kurt's voice.
"And you said yes."
"Mhm."
For some reason, Sam thought Mercedes didn't sound very happy for her best friend. Sam wasn't much of the scheming type, but he filed that bit of information away, just in case it proved useful in any future dastardly plans involving the take down of Blair Barks.
an: so, new plan.
I've got a whole new sequel to this lovely story brewing in my head, but in order to make it work the way I want, I'm extending this by a few chapters, just until probably around the end of the school year or the end of summer. sorry guys! you'll just have to keep waiting for the moment I know you want most! I will try to make this go by quickly, though, no more than three to five more chapters, if I can help it. I know it's kind of cruel torture, but I am sure it'll end up being worth it once you get to see what the sequel will involve!
so anyway, please leave me some reviews, and give me some ideas for what should happen within the next few months of the Glee kids' lives! if there are any special requests, prompts, characters you'd like to see, anything, I'd be more than happy to try to incorporate what you want into the wind-down of this story. I'm also thinking of doing some exploratory oneshots into the lives and personalities of other Glee members, probably starting with either Kurt, Quinn, or Puck. what do you think?
oh, one more little thing. I'm very sorry for any mistakes in this, I noticed a few in the last couple chapters, but they're usually just small things like typos or the subconscious misuse of the words to and too. I'm sure you know what I mean, and understand that it's more important to me to move on with the story than to go back and try to correct all the little things. thanks so much for sticking with it this far!