Author's Note: Remember that this is an AU story, so while it incorporates elements from Season Two, they'll probably be altered while other events are ignored completely. Some changes include Sam and Quinn dating up to and including Rachel's party. Sam being a part of New Directions almost from the beginning of the season, and Sam and Santana being noticeably quiet about Kurt's atheism. As for Kurt and Blaine, they are not yet dating at this point, though Kurt believes himself to be in love with Blaine, an idea from which Blaine has made no effort to dissuade him. For the most part, these changes are self-explanatory and will be revealed as the story continues, but for those who follow canon and are looking for canon guidelines, it's only fair to give you a heads-up.

As Sam climbed the staircase toward Santana's bedroom with a slumbering Kurt in his arms, he slowly felt himself devolving into a caveman. But he still liked videogames and sci-fi and other modern conveniences, so maybe he was a GEICO caveman. He just hoped this didn't mean he had to take up bowling. He was also certain that dorking out inside his own head was just as pathetic as doing it in polite company. Wow. Fail.

He looked down at Kurt, now curled tightly against him, and felt like a total creeper because Kurt's hot nostril breath was seeping through his thin t-shirt and making his nipple hard. Damn. Lame much?

Okay, self, time to take stock. First, you're an epic dweeb. Sure, you're a teenage virgin who's horny more often than Hudson is hungry, but you've had a boner for the last half hour and now your nipple could cut glass. Seriously, the fuck? Okay, so you've got the object of your lust – love, asshole, love! Don't be so fucking shallow! – in your arms and he looks all helpless and vulnerable and so damn cute that it makes you want to run out into a tornado and rescue kittens – What. The. Hell. – to impress him and hopefully score some smoochies – Smoochies. Really, Sam? – but you need to get it together. Especially since I'm pretty sure Santana is watching you and silently mocking you. And she won't remain silent for long.

Sam blinked as he came to the end of the hall where a waiting Santana had her hands on her hips and was smirking enough for the entire gay coterie of the fashion industry. Or Kurt. Holy shit, how he had not realized that Kurt and Santana had the same damn smirk?

Santana rolled her eyes playfully. "You've really got it bad." She watched the blush creep up his neck and spread across his cheeks and decided not to be a bitch for the moment. "It's nice," she said softly. "It's nice to see someone who wants him so much. He deserves that, Evans," she said fiercely. "And maybe you do too."

Sam shook his head. "You need to start warning me when you do that. It's very confusing and a little scary when you're human."

She smirked. Again. "Which is why I do it." She threw open her bedroom door and stormed inside, immediately crossing the room toward her king-sized bed and turning it down. "You can put him in the middle. I take right and you've got the left."

He hesitated for a moment. "San?" he finally asked.

She stopped fluffing the pillows and looked up at him, not about to tolerate any nonsense about propriety. She was getting Evans and Hummel in her bed come hell or high water. They didn't have to do anything, she just wanted be able to say they had spent the night in her room. She couldn't control how people interpreted a factual statement. "What?" she asked with suspicion.

Sam shuffled his feet. "It's just…the first time I picked him up, back at Rachel's house, I noticed how light he is. Like, really light. As light as Quinn when we did those lifts in rehearsal." He didn't notice her deepening frown. "You've known him longer than me. Is that normal for him?"

"Put him down on the bed," she repeated, pleased when he rushed to obey.

Once Kurt was supine, she grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up. Only to discover another shirt beneath it. She grabbed that one and repeated the process to be met with...another shirt.

"Jesus, how many fucking layers is he wearing?" she demanded. Finally, she grabbed the latest hem and shoved her fingers beneath it until she felt his skin, gently lifting them up. "Oh, god."

Sam's eyes widened and he backed away. "I can see his ribs. Jesus fuck, look at his ribs!" he whispered harshly.

"This is recent," she insisted. "I saw him during Sectionals while he was changing out of that stupid Hogwarts uniform. He was thin – he's always been thin – but not like this. What the fuck?" She shook her head angrily. "Stay here with him."

"What!" Sam felt himself slip into panic mode.

"Stay here with him," she slowly repeated, as if addressing a particularly ignorant toddler. "I'm going to get my mom." She sighed. "Sam, sit down. Hold his hand. If you haven't noticed, he sleeps just fine when you're near him."

She ignored the stupid, soft smile that overtook him and left the room.

Sam held Kurt's hand in his, eyes hungrily scanning over the appendage. Kurt's hand was so pale, so perfectly flawless. Like alabaster, not porcelain. Porcelain was too common for someone like Kurt. His fingers were long and slim – elegant, Sam thought – and he remembered the few times he had seen Kurt play the piano.

He wondered about Kurt and the piano, if Kurt felt the same thrill as his fingers splayed across the keys as Sam's own did when they plucked the strings of his guitar.

He wondered a lot of things about Kurt.

Could he really be Kurt's Xander? Did that mean Kurt was Buffy? Who were their Willow, Oz, and Cordelia? Santana would make a pretty good Cordy, Sam decided, although it was possible no one could fill those pumps. Schuester as Giles? Brr. Scary.

He remembered the episode Welcome to the Hellmouth. He remembered when Xander first met Buffy on the steps outside Sunnydale High. Xander had looked up into her eyes with awe.

Can I keep you?

Could he keep Kurt? He sure as hell wanted to. He was pretty sure that after having Kurt in his arms that he could never give the boy back. Certainly not to Blaine.

"You're mine," Sam whispered his thumb softly stroking the top of Kurt's hand. "I was stupid. I was lame. I was too scared to face what I knew to be the truth. I love you, Kurt. Please don't leave me. Not again. You're mine."

His.

Yeah. It was so obvious now, so clear. Suddenly his head was filled with Rachel's voice singing On A Clear Day You Can See Forever. Jesus, why did Rachel have to intrude on everything?

He could do this. He would do this. Fuck, he was already doing it. He would have Kurt. He would make Blaine pay. He would make Finn and Karofsky suffer. And he knew he could accomplish these things because Santana would be at his side.

She had always scared him, but now it was in a good way. He was pretty unsure what he felt about her, though. There was no denying that he found her attractive. Hell, when she'd brought up the idea of them being a threesome, he could picture himself burrowed inside her with no problem. Pretty awesome, really. But where did that leave Kurt?

Duh. Kurt would be fucking him. He supposed the idea should have frightened him or freaked him out, but instead he was intrigued and anticipatory. He shivered with delight. Would Kurt want to fuck him? What if Kurt was, what the hell was it called? A bottom? Was that right? Well, they would work it out. He sure as hell wanted to fuck Kurt; hopefully Kurt felt the same for him.

It would all come down to Kurt in the end. If Kurt had any interest in him at all but not Santana, it wouldn't even be a question. He wanted Kurt absolutely. And Santana said she would be okay with just watching. But that wasn't really fair to her. He didn't want to trample all over her feelings. He knew what it felt like not to be the wanted one.

He nodded. They were definitely going to have to set up some boundaries after they found out where Kurt stood on all of this.

"Getting ahead of yourself again, Evans," he muttered. "Be his friend, remember? That's what he needs right now. You'd rather love him in silence and suffer for it than not have him it all."

But then Kurt shifted, his head dropping to the side, and he whispered Sam's name in his sleep.

Sam felt his heart wanting to burst out of his chest.

Santana returned ten minutes later with her parents in tow.

At the sight of her father, Sam immediately shot to his feet and introduced himself, holding out his hand and expressing his gratitude for their hospitality. Rpbert Lopez looked slightly stunned and vaguely impressed as his hand enveloped Sam's and gave it a solid shake.

"Show me," Lydia whispered to her daughter.

Santana led her over the bed and again pulled up all of Kurt's shirts.

Robert gasped softly and looked to Sam, who was gnawing on his lip and staring down at Kurt with worry. Once he was conscious of the man's gaze, he shuffled his feet and blushed.

"He's a good fifteen pounds underweight," Lydia remarked, "which on a frame as slender as his is far too much." She pulled down his shirt and looked at her daughter. "You said this was recent?"

Santana nodded uncertainly. "I think so, but I can't say for sure. Ever since he transferred to Dalton…"

"The boy goes to Dalton?" her father asked.

"Because he was chased out of McKinley," Sam said bitterly.

The Lopez parents looked at him sharply and he wilted under the power of their combined gaze.

"What do you mean he was chased out?" Lydia demanded.

Sam looked helplessly at Santana, who sighed. She explained that Kurt was gay and slowly detailed all of the abuse and harassment he had been made to suffer at McKinley. With extreme reluctance, she also told them about Karofsky.

Lydia was appalled. "This is outrageous."

"And illegal," Robert added. "This boy was sexually harassed and molested by another student on school grounds during school time and nothing was done?"

"Kurt didn't tell anyone," Sam said. "He probably thought we wouldn't believe him." He stared down at the floor. "We weren't much help to him before and we knew he was being bullied."

Santana snorted. "I think you can except yourself from that statement, Hot Lips. You were new; you didn't know jack, but you were the only one who stood up to Karofsky and gave him a beatdown. You were like some kind of avenging angel."

Sam blushed furiously and shook his head. "Mike and Artie were there. Puck wanted to help, but he could've been sent back to juvie."

"I don't give a rat's ass," she said dispassionately. "Wheels can't fight, Chang's not much better, and Hudson acted like a little girl and did nothing to help his brother. You were the only one to stand up for Kurt. Don't make that out for any less than what it is. I certainly don't."

Robert considered Sam with a newfound respect.

"Does Kurt know you're in love with him, Sam?" Lydia asked.

Sam shook his head frantically. "I can't tell him. He's not ready. He technically still has a boyfriend, even though the idiot spent the night making out with Rachel. The last thing Kurt needs is more pressure. I won't do that to him."

Santana interrupted to shift the focus from Sam and his Big Gay Love for Kurt. "The only adult on Kurt's side was Coach Sylvester, but she was overruled by the school board."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, Schuester's a nice guy, but he's pretty oblivious to anything that's not about Rachel, Finn, or himself."

Santana grunted her agreement.

"Where was Burt in all of this?" Lydia quietly asked.

"I don't think he knows," Santana admitted. "Kurt feels this need to protect his father. I don't know much about their relationship, but they really love each other, you know? They look out for one another, but I don't think they communicate very well. I know they get homophobic calls at their house and at Kurt's dad's shop."

"What?" Sam demanded. "That's pathetic! Oh, yeah, it's so brave calling up a teenage boy and harassing him over the phone all while you're cloaked in anonymity. What a pack of fucking cowards."

He blinked, surprised by his invective and apologized to Santana's parents, who waved him off, unconcerned.

"Mr. Hummel was really upset when I talked to him earlier," Santana added. "When I told him what Blaine had done and the things Finn had said, he was almost crying. I don't think he really understands what Kurt goes through, and Kurt doesn't tell him."

"He probably knows more than you think, baby," Robert said. "Parents understand more than their children realize. He probably knows that Kurt was embarrassed and hurt and possibly quite scared, but didn't know how to approach him. I wouldn't be surprised if he thought aiding Kurt's denial was actually helping him, and I'm sure he also felt helpless because there was little he could do." He smirked. "But there's a lot I can do."

Sam cocked his head and frowned.

Robert grinned wolfishly. "Did Santana mention I'm a lawyer?"

"Do you really think your dad can help?" Sam asked Santana after her parents had left the room.

The Lopezes had extracted a promise from their daughter that she would tomorrow invite Burt and Carole Hummel to the house for a much-needed discussion. She was fairly certain that Kurt would not be receptive, but she didn't care. If he wasn't going to manage his life, it was patently obvious that she would have to do it for him. After all, who better?

She shrugged. "I don't know. What I do know is that Dad is an even better bullshitter than he is an attorney. He'll scare the crap out of Figgins if Kurt gives the okay."

Sam sighed. "I'm just worried that the decision won't be left to Kurt, that it will be made for him. I don't know if he can deal with a loss of even more control."

She shrugged again. "He can't go on like this, Evans. He's not healthy; he's not happy. He's not eating, Whine is a thoughtless prick, Hudson is pretty worthless no matter how you cut it, and Dalton is feasting upon his soul. The only reason he left McKinley was because of Karofsky, so if we can get rid of him, we get Kurt back."

He eyed her. "You have a plan."

"Maybe." She raised a brow. "And you still have your hard-on. You've got some serious stamina." She raised a brow. "Want some help with that?"

"Fuck yes," he hissed, closing his eyes. "You have no idea how much I want that, but I can't. I can't do that with you when I'm in love with Kurt. I can't do that with you because you're worth more than that. It wouldn't be fair, not to any of us."

She said nothing and after a long moment, he cracked open an eye and looked in her direction, disconcerted to see her staring at him through a narrowed gaze.

"I don't know what the shit is happening here. I don't know what this is. I don't even know if I like you as a person. But I'm starting to respect you." She looked away. "Don't fuck that up."

He swallowed heavily. He certainly planned not to give her reason to doubt him.

"The bathroom's over there," she said, pointing vaguely with a finger. "Go take care of yourself, Evans, and then come to bed." She gave him a poisonous smile. "While you're in there, think about me and Kurt taking turns on your cock with whatever orifice does it for you. That should help you out."

Sam groaned plaintively and walked stiffly to the bathroom, her mocking laughter following him.

"And make sure you clean up after yourself!" she called out as he shut the door.

Ten minutes later, Sam emerged from the bathroom wearing a wifebeater and a pair of boxer briefs. Santana didn't bother hiding her interest in his body. The boy was hot.

Sam noticed the tattered Titans t-shirt she was wearing as a nightshirt. It looked just the right size to have once belonged to Puck. He didn't comment on it.

"Help me take his shoes off," she told him, indicating Kurt. They each attacked a foot.

"Big feet," Sam noted.

She smirked. "And you know what that means."

He involuntarily licked his chops.

"Look at the way his jeans fit, Evans," she purred. "Can you even imagine how much he's packing? Don't you just want to put it in your mouth? I bet it tastes even better than it looks."

He moaned. "You're killing me here, Lopez."

"And that ass."

He whimpered.

She snorted. "You're a teenage boy. Your recovery time is far above normal. Be thankful for that. Kurt will be."

"He's so beautiful," he whispered, ghosting his hand over Kurt's hair.

"He is," she agreed, "but don't ever call him pretty. He hates that."

Sam nodded, filing away that Important Piece of News.

She gracefully slid inside her bed, cuddling up against Kurt, who turned slightly on his side against her. She smiled, pleased. Sam followed, pressing himself up against Kurt's back. He closed his eyes and hummed happily.

"I like this," he said.

"I should think so," she dryly replied. "Berry or Schuester?"

"Huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "Would you rather fuck Berry or Schuester?"

His mouth shifted into a moue of disgust. "Well, that just killed the new boner."

"Answer the question."

He soured. "Schuester, I guess. His body is banging. The face? Not so much."

"Oh, thank god," she muttered. "I'm so sick of every girl in that school talking about how fuckable he is. I seriously do not get it."

"How was Finn?" he asked.

"Terrible," she groaned. "It was over before I could fucking blink. I didn't even get off and he didn't know how to help me. Completely clueless."

Sam winced and then frowned. "Is Puck really as good as he says?"

Santana considered the question. "No," she finally said. "Don't get me wrong, he's good. He knows what he's doing and he makes sure you're taken care of, but he's…" She trailed off, not sure how to phrase it. "You watch porn?"

"Sure," he easily replied.

"You know Nacho Vidal?"

His eyes widened and he propped himself up on an elbow to stare at her. "Seriously?" he boggled. "It's that big?"

She giggled. "Hell no. But Puck fucks like that, like he's putting on a show for an invisible audience. It's all about him, all the time. I remember when I had this threesome with him and Collier, one of the Cheerio guys. It was at some party, out in the pool house. Whatever, there was a mirror on the wall and Puck watched himself the entire time. He's more into himself than he could ever be about someone else."

He raised a brow. "Puck had a threesome with another guy?"

She looked up at the ceiling and shrugged. "Sure. Not the first time, either. Last year he had one in the locker room with April Rhodes and Matt Rutherford."

"The guy I replaced?"

She nodded. "Rutherford was a seriously fine piece of ass."

"Is Puck bi?"

She eyed him. "Would you be interested if he was?"

"Not really," he said, shrugging. "I mean, it'd be nice to know another bi dude, and he's good to look at, but I don't think I could deal with his drama. He's like a walking soap opera."

She snorted. "No shit. What about Kurt's drama?"

"Most of Kurt's drama is created by other people; it's reactionary. Sure, Kurt's dramatic, but he doesn't cause a lot of drama. There's a difference."

She nodded slowly, liking the delineation. "At any rate, it doesn't matter. Puck's totally straight but he likes threesomes, and he likes having another guy involved because it ups his stud rep. He probably likes to believe that guys, even straight ones, want a piece of him. He's not a homophobe, not really, and he's not afraid if balls touch during a double-teaming. Hell, he grabbed Collier's hips for leverage while they were fucking me and spanked his ass. He really had no prejudices when it comes to sex and people having sex. Puck's attitude toward Kurt was all because Kurt made him feel inferior; he still does. That Kurt's gay really had nothing to do with it."

"Huh," Sam whispered. It wasn't a good excuse for bullying, for inciting terror in another person, but he felt just a smidgen of relief that Puck wasn't as much of a raging asshole as he had first believed. Sure, bullying was always about poor self-esteem on the part of the tormenter, but he was glad that Puck was just a dickhead and not a complete fucking psycho like Karofsky.

"Now, Rutherford?" She continued. "He's bi, and he was totally into Kurt."

His fingers curled into a fist. "Wait, what?"

"Calm down, Mickey Rourke," she snapped, rolling her eyes. "Rutherford now lives in Texas and Kurt doesn't know anything about this. The only reason I know is because Rutherford dated Brittany for a while, and though she can keep a secret, she tells me everything."

He made note of that for future reference. "Why didn't Matt say anything to Kurt? Why didn't you?"

"Rutherford didn't say much of anything at all. He talked even less than Chang."

"Whoa."

"Exactly. And why the fuck would I out someone? Just so Kurt could be taken to Breadstix? Fuck that. I'm cold, but I'm not heartless. But, I'll admit that if I had known about it sooner, if Rutherford hadn't transferred, I probably would have tried to get them together. At least long enough for some oral action in the choir room that Brittany and I could have conveniently stumbled upon."

He snorted. "It's pretty pathetic that I'm jealous of a guy I've never met and who no longer lives in this part of the country, huh?" he asked sheepishly.

"A bit," she conceded, "but as a jealous cunt myself, I can't hate on you for it."

He grinned; he liked that she knew who she was and didn't apologize for it. You always knew where you stood with her, and that was pretty damn cool. "So…Figgins or Jewfro?

She blinked. "I've misjudged you. You're evil and I approve."

In the middle of the night, Sam's eyes flitted open and, for a moment, he forgot where he was. He looked down and saw that Kurt's hand was still in his. Santana's laid atop theirs.

He smiled and fell back asleep.