Title: Homecoming Tradition (part two)

Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans

Rating: T

A/N: Everyone really seemed to like the first half of this, and I wasn't really going to continue it past a one-shot. But you were all so supportive and loving in your comments and reviews that I just had to write another chapter! I plan on writing another chapter of them at the dance, and from there I'll decide whether or not to end it there, or perhaps continue it. ; ) Keep tuning in! And thank you!

The Homecoming game has everyone reeling in excitement. Especially Kurt.

Quinn's gave him the biggest, knowing smile when she spied his jersey as he walked into the gym during the before-game warm ups. He didn't really get noticed until she came over to him because most people were watching her anyway. She's looked stunning. Her lashes were dark and pulled out, seeming to shadow her eyes, and beneath her eyes were spatters of glitter. They seemed to shine brighter when she was smiling. She had the number 38 painted across her left cheek and the jersey pulled tight around her slimming figure. She'd done well in losing the baby weight, and losing it fast.

"Well, well, well, look at you," Quinn nodded approvingly, winking at him and Kurt grinned. When she crooked a finger, he leaned in, "I knew he'd like you. When I kissed him it was like an alarm went off for "raging homo"." Kurt laughed and Quinn strung her arm through his. Her and Sam had dated briefly when he'd first transferred and joined Glee club. Their break up came as a surprise, but this was certainly going to be a bigger one.

"You look hot, by the way," Quinn admired him as they walked. And he did. In Sam's words, had he been there: smoking. Mercedes (who surprisingly hadn't fainted) had also painted Sam's number onto his cheek in bold strokes. The jersey hung loosely off his frame, hugging at the slim shoulders, but it gave much to the idea of Kurt's lithe figure beneath it. His hair was, dare he say it, immaculate – as always of course, but even more so.

People had started to notice, but Kurt didn't care. He felt sexy, and he didn't feel that way often. He really wanted to find Sam and see what he thought, but tradition was that you had to wait until the end of the game to see your respective football player, when they gave you their Homecoming rose.

"What those leggings do to your ass is sinful." Santana's arm was suddenly stringing through his free one, Brittany on her other side. It had taken Kurt three hours, 28 minutes, and 51 seconds to find the perfect leggings. He'd been counting, if you couldn't tell. Apparently, he'd made the right choice, though.

Quinn leaned back slightly to eye him down and Kurt swatted at her arm as they headed outside, "My eyes are up here."

They were a quadrant of power as they strut for the field, the other Cheerios following in formation, like a flock to its prey, Coach Sylvester at their front.

–

The Cheerios had a selected place at the front of the bleachers where they sat and cheered while the game went on. Kurt found his father in the stands with Carol and waved. His father waved back with a light-hearted smile (he was staring at Kurt's jersey though, and Kurt was sure he was trying to match it to a player on the field; Kurt needed to remember to lock the shotgun in the attack when he got home). Kurt laughed as Carol practically flailed at him, "You look great, honey!" She shouted and Kurt went pink, turning away hurriedly.

Santana whistled loudly. It was deafening. "Let's go out there! What the hell are you guys playing out there, football or fucking footsie with the opposite team!" She shouted. Many people would be surprised to learn that Santana was an avid football fan. Despite living in Ohio, her favorite team was the Pittsburgh Steelers and every year (as Kurt found out this year when she invited him over as they grew closer in friendship, especially after his father's heart attack and she'd come to him asking how to tell her parents about Brittany), her family practically worshiped the television when the Superbowl season came around.

"I like playing footsie," Brittany smiled thoughtfully, "Especially under the table at restaurants. Santana gets this really weird, but really hot face when I rub my foot up her thigh and-"

"Brittany!" Kurt and Quinn chorused together. Santana's face had flamed up bright red and Brittany frowned sadly before reaching out, pinky extended. Santana looked flustered, but linked their fingers together anyhow. The frown disappeared and Brittany was back to glowing.

Kurt had a maddening itch in his body that kept him jittery and breathing too fast for his own good.

"Why can't this game be over any sooner?" He whined and Quinn patted his knee.

"Calm down lover boy," She cooed mockingly, "You'll get your man soon enough. In fact, I think you catwalking to the food stand a few minutes ago distracted him and that's what cost us the last touch down. Nice going, Kurt." Kurt rolled his eyes, eyes roaming back to the field. The second quarter was ending, and so far, both teams were tied.

"You ready for this?" Quinn looked over at him as the last ten seconds began to count down, "Homecoming game, head cheerleader, a sexy boy who wants your hot ass watching your every move in the stands... think you can handle this?" Quinn smirked at him and Kurt raised a brow.

"Please. I was born ready for this."

–

Sam jogged to the sidelines, hair slightly matted with sweat as he pulled of his helmet and ruffled it up. The cool breeze was welcoming as it swept across the field, the timer still buzzing, signaling half-time. Nothing was better than the water, though. Sam downed an entire bottle in less than fifteen seconds. It was so cold it made his eyes sting and it hurt his throat, but it was so good.

"How you holdin' up out there, son?" Beiste slapped his shoulder and Sam nodded, cheeks flushed as he panted.

"Pretty good. We're only down by one since we didn't make the field kick after our second touch down, but yeah," Sam nodded, taking a towel from his coach and wiped his face, "Pretty damn good. You?"

"Well, I haven't started crying over your stats like the time I saw the team's stats for last year, so I can say I'm doing well." Beiste chuckled, "Keep on truckin' kid, we're gonna win this one." She gave his shoulder another pat, and Sam nodded, going for another water bottle.

"Hey faggot," Ice-cold water met his face and Sam jolted back, startled. At least it wasn't a slushy this time. He wiped it from his eyes, looking up, bewildered, "What's the queer doing wearing your number?" Azimio and Karofsky may not be on the football team, but their athlete status gave them prime way down to the players' box.

"I gave it to him. How the hell else would he get it?" Sam raised a brow, shoulders squaring in defense.

"Dude. Since when have you been a homo? Especially for the lead fairy of the school?" Azimio thrust open his arms in a 'what the hell' movement.

"What's it matter to you? You're not in the relationship, so why-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you're his boyfriend?"

"So what if I am?" Sam had to admit, despite how confident his voice was, his heart was pounding in his chest. So far, Coach Beiste hadn't seemed to notice them, and none of the other players seemed to see them as a threat and he wondered if they'd continue to act oblivious if he punched either Azimio or Karofsky in the face, or if –

"Yeah, so what if he is." Sam looked over his shoulder and Puck stood behind him, brows knit together, eyes narrowed.

"That isn't a problem, is it?" From behind Azimio and Karofsky, both Finn and Artie appeared, their expressions matching Puck's: threatening. Sam grinned, feeling an ease settle back in his gut. He folded his arms over his chest, raising a brow at the two hockey players.

"Nah, it's not a problem, is it guys?"

"Dude, because if it is, I think you take another look at these guns," Puck flexed his arms and Sam felt the urge to let his eyes roll; he kept them in place, letting them bore holes into the jocks' faces, "And I know Hummel's got one hell of a kick, too. Remember last year? Yeah. Imagine that in your soft-and-delicates." Azimio and Karofsky seemed to be debating on whether or not to open their mouths, before Karofsky held up his hands, shaking them nonchalantly as they retreated.

"Just watch yourself, fag!" Azimio called back over his shoulder, and Artie grabbed Finn's arm to keep him from going after them. It didn't do much good seeing as his wheel chair rolled right alongside of the other boy, but Sam made a quick grab and clutched the handles of his chair, pulling them both to a stop.

Finn looked absolutely furious, "What the hell gives them the right to say that shit, huh? I swear to god, one of these days I'm gonna... I'm gonna... well, I dunno what I'm gonna do, but I'm going to do something." There was a hesitant moment of silence before Artie, Puck, and Sam began to laugh. Finn was reasonably upset at first, but the laughter was soon contagious and tickling him as well as he chuckled along with the others. It was short-lived though, when Finn's face became generally concerned again.

"So you and Kurt... you guys are really... y'know..." Finn made a few sporadic hand gestures in the air as if might cover what he was trying to say. Though he understood, Sam raised a brow curiously, encouraging his friend to ask properly and Finn looked flustered.

"Finn is wondering if you and Kurt are getting it on." Artie put it simply.

"What? No!"

"Not yet, at least." Puck elbowed him sharply in the ribs, eyebrows wriggling suggestively.

"I was just gonna ask if they were dating!" Finn threw up his hands and Artie laughed. Sam grinned, pushing wet hair from his face and sat on the bench, taking another water bottle and popped the cap, taking a sip. The others waited expectantly. Sam shrugged,

"I'm taking him to Homecoming."

"So, then... you are dating?"

"I dunno, we never really said anything official yet."

"That's what facebook's for, my brother," Artie slapped him on the shoulder, "I'll be expecting an update either before or after the dance. Be prepared for about... all the girls in glee club to 'like' it a million times over."

"Speaking of Hummel-"

"We weren't, we were talking about facebook." Artie interjected and Puck slapped across the back of the head, continuing.

"Your boy's putting on a show, Evans."

"Trust me, I've noticed." Sam smirked, but Puck wasn't looking at Kurt. He was looking at the crowd of the opposite team, as well as a few people from their side.

"I don't think you can wait until Saturday, man. I mean, unless you're cool with half of the school's opposing team asking him out after this routine." Sam followed Puck's gaze and his eyes narrowed as he could catch people staring, not just to watch, but in ways that suggested they were possibly undressing the Cheerios (read: Kurt) with their eyes. He stood so abruptly, he nearly knocked Finn off the bench beside him.

"I'll be right back." Puck, Finn and Artie watched him go with exchanged glances.

"Twenty bucks we get a facebook update tonight."

"You're on."

–

Sam had certainly not planned to do this. It was really just him being spontaneous, you know? Sam didn't really think things through. Well, he thought about Kurt a lot, and he thought about what he wanted to do to Kurt a lot. A lot. But he didn't really think this through particularly well, but Sam decided he really didn't care.

The ending pose of the routine left the stands in a blaze of applause. Kurt had looked both confused, concerned and happy to see him when Sam came onto the field. Sam had to admit, his hands were sweating and he was just glad that he'd had water tossed in his face about ten minutes ago to make it look natural.

But it's those looks that he can see on peoples' faces, hungry and watchful, that made Sam stride more confidently across the field. He knew he was getting strange looks, and quite possibly a death glare in the back of the head from Coach Sylvester, but he has to do this. He just has to. And really? He just wants to do this. Kurt's body relaxed from it's pose and Sam grinned as he approached. The other boy smiled back.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Samuel? I do hope you realize Coach is going to have your head about-" Kurt's not even close to finishing his sentence when Sam throws down his helmet, closes the last bit of distance between him and the head Cheerio, cups his face with both hands and drags him up on his toes for a searing kiss.

Sam wasn't really sure, but he was about ninety-eight percent positive that the crowd got quieter, but in result, he could hear the catcalls and whistles headed their way from behind him. It made him kiss Kurt harder, hands going from his face to around his hips and tugging him closer. Kurt's go from being numb at his sides to Sam's chest and then suddenly around his neck, dragging him down to deepen the intensity. Hands down, it was Sam's best kiss.

When they withdrew, Sam was pleasantly surprised to find Kurt dazed and smiling deliriously up at him, "Be my boyfriend." The head Cheerio whispered and Sam laughed. There's a flicker of uncertainty in the other boy's eyes and Sam ran a hand through his hair reassuringly.

"It's just funny because that's what I was coming over here to ask." Sam drew back and eyed him up and down in a less than subtle way, but hey, he was no longer single as of about ten seconds ago, and this property was now his so he reserved this right, "God, I'm giving you that jersey. There's no way anyone else could wear it better." Kurt's face pinkened and Sam reached out. Kurt stared at it questioningly and Sam flexed it, wiggling his fingers, "Take my hand."

Kurt reached out and interlaced their fingers together, suddenly pulling out his phone with his free hand. Sam looked down over his shoulder.

"What're you doing?" Sam asked. Kurt smiled up at him, rolling his eyes.

"Updating my facebook status, what else would I be doing?"

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