Blame It On Sam's Alcohol.

Sam was usually a laid back drunk. Even here at Rachel's party, he probably seemed pretty mellow to everyone, pink-cheeked and smiling - but he was actually miserable. He'd thought that all this alcohol might dull his misery, but nope. He was still poor. Not can't-buy-a-comic-book poor, but honest-to-God, out-of-a-home poor. He felt terrible, because when his parents broke the news, his first thought was that this would ruin his life at McKinley. The glory of the football win was fading in McKinley's collective mind, and without that glory, Sam found that he was still one of the freaks who visited arcades and comic book stores.

Sam smiled into his empty cup. He was even more lame than that, since he'd lost Quinn -dumped her, really. But it might as well have been a loss. He didn't know what to do. Football season was over, and he was with Santana now. God, Santana. Talk about out of the frying pan, into the fire…she was popular and hot, but she was also a nightmare. He'd been fully conditioned not to speak Na'vi in public and was starting to associate comic book references with pain. He knew he should have trusted his instincts when it came to her, but she seemed to be the jedi-master of cool at McKinley so he didn't really have a choice. Faced with loneliness and homelessness, she was his only lifeline to maintaining his image.

A loud yell went up, and Sam drew a hand over his face. When he could focus again, he spotted Quinn dancing with Finn. After a minute, Finn looked over at him and gave him a half grin. Sam crushed the cup in his hand and looked away - only to groan. Santana walked over to him with that nasty look on her face. Puck was giving Sam a knowing nod as she pushed him back against the couch and straddled him. He let her dig her fingers into his hair and latch her mouth onto his. She'd been making out with him on and off throughout the night, just to show everyone how "into each other" they were. A small part of Sam's brain enjoyed it - he'd seen Quinn watching them a few times and knew she hated it. So why was she hanging around Finn?

Sam's hand dug into Santana's thigh. Finn probably wasn't whispering sweet nothings in her ear in Na'vi or asking her to watch Star Wars for the nth time. God, this boyfriend business just wasn't for him.

"Hey!"

Sam had barely noticed that Santana had ripped her mouth away from his. He shook his head and gave her his full attention, knowing the consequences.

"Retract your claws, hulk - you're ruining the merchandise." She slapped his hand and Sam withdrew it from her thigh. "Now, sit back and enjoy this. I just finished taking a shot and I wants to get my mack on with my boyfriend."

Her evil smile was the last straw - he couldn't take it anymore. As Santana leaned in again, Sam gently rolled her to the side of him and walk-stumbled away as quickly as he could, trying to ignore the first strains of her crying. He dropped his cup on the floor as he headed for Rachel's stairs. He needed some air.

Kurt was not happy as the screen door banged behind him and he found Sam hunched on Rachel's doorstep.

"Is there no place in this world right now where I could be alone?"

Sam winced at the sound of Kurt's voice. Let him, Kurt thought. Let him feel just a tiny fraction of what I am feeling right now. It was only fair, considering that Sam seemed to think that Kurt was his own personal advice column - all of the support Kurt had given Sam over these past few weeks, even letting him live down the Justin Beiber Experience, and Sam hadn't even glanced at him when Rachel's lips met Blaine's! Kurt felt his stomach turn as the horrible sight replayed in his mind. He dropped down beside Sam, a wild look in his red-rimmed eyes. He sniffled. Sam blinked.

" So, did the love of your life just kiss one of your best friends?"

Sam's eyes widened. Kurt was about to spout another snappy line, but he stopped as his eyes met with Sam's. Kurt turned away and looked across the lawn, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"I'm sorry." He gave a thin smile. "I don't know what's wrong with Finn."

"He's a total girlfriend-stealing jerk?"

Kurt frowned. "Among other things."

They sat in silence, and Kurt reached out and put his hand against Sam's shoulder. Maybe he did get it. Maybe, Kurt thought, they were just both doomed to be Julia Roberts in My Best Friend's Wedding. So what if she had been happy in the end? She hadn't gotten the guy she had wanted. He glanced at Sam. He probably wouldn't think of it in those terms, but he'd get it. They said that misery loved company.

Sam shifted under Kurt's hand, and Kurt turned to him. Sam was pouting again. It was a nice pout, Kurt thought absently as Sam threw his arm around Kurt's shoulders. Kurt's eyes widened in shock, but he didn't move.

"I'm with Santana, Kurt, but she's horrible. I gotta get Quinn back." Kurt watched Sam's mouth move with growing anger. Quinn, again? "I'm an idiot-"

Kurt pushed Sam, and the inebriated boy swayed away as Kurt sat ram-rod straight beside him.

"Yes," he spat, "yes, you are. An extremely selfish one." Sam looked down, and Kurt looked down his nose at him.

"I don't know what you should do, Sam. Take her for a long walk on the beach, serenade her again - that worked perfectly the first time you did it! Wine and dine her, I don't care! Just don't mind me while my entire love life crashes to the ground!"

Sam seemed to curl into himself as Kurt spoke. Kurt didn't care. He was tired and broken by a kiss and a song - the duet that should have been his, stolen by his best frenemy, no less! The universe conspired against him, and added salt to the wound by putting him here, with this unfeeling cretin who - whose arms were attacking him!

Kurt struggled to move away, but there was no use - Sam had wrestled him into an embrace! Just a friendly hug, really, but Kurt wasn't used to being touchy-feely with guys. Especially not straight guys.

He wasn't used to what came after, either.

"Dude, tsap'alute si."

Na'vi. Great! Kurt blinked rapidly, his frustration giving way to incredulity. Sam blushed under his gaze, wanting to kick himself for the fiftieth time that day. Such a total dork, hugging another dude! Plus, Kurt was right - he was insensitive. He totally used Kurt for advice, never once asking him how he was doing. He knew that Kurt liked Blaine, although the guy seemed to make Kurt do a complete 180. When it came to Blaine, Kurt was nothing like the kid Sam had met in the beginning of the year - the one who marched up to him with an extended hand and a cocksure attitude. The one who informed him that he was neither as passionate nor as talented a performer as he. That kind of bothered him. Weird.

And Sam was sulking over Quinn - well, at least she hadn't kissed another girl. He wondered how he would feel if she had. He'd probably think it was hot - didn't all guys think two girls kissing was hot? Did girls think two guys kissing was hot? Sam tightened his hold on Kurt and thought about kissing another guy. Another guy like...Kurt.

Sam shifted in alarm as his body reacted to that thought. God, it was worse than he thought. He was hopeless. A cool kid would be inside chugging beer and making out with Santana right now, saying "Quinn who?" as he lost his virginity to the smoking hottie who happened to be his girlfriend. Only losers spoke Na'vi and did lame impressions and -

And might have missed the snort of laughter that came out of their commiserating companions.

"I'm not sure what you just said, but I'm pretty sure it's not real."

Sam smiled. "I-it's Na'vi. From Avatar."

Kurt shook his head. He leaned back to fully search Sam's face, and one of Sam's arms dropped, leaving Kurt in the arc of his other arm. Kurt narrowed his eyes as he studied Sam's visage, and Sam squirmed under the attention.

"You are the weirdest jock I have ever met."

Sam winced at the word weird, but Kurt grabbed his shoulder as a slow smile spread across his face.

"So different. But," he moved in even closer to Sam to stage whisper, "that's what makes people like you and me unique, I guess."

With that declaration, things once again quieted between them. Neither could explain how or when, but Kurt's head drooped onto Sam's shoulder at some point. Sam was aware that he should probably move or something, because dudes did not let gay dudes cuddle up to them like this even when they were drunk. But he looked up at the moon, and for the first time since his breakup with Quinn, since the bad news from his parents, he felt at peace. He was different, and different didn't seem so bad right now.

Kurt's whole body seemed slumped against his now. Sam looked down at him. His eyes were closed and he was starting to snore. Sam smiled. Not bad at all.

A few things sunk through Sam's hangover from last night. First, he'd held Kurt under the moonlight, for at least fifteen minutes. No big deal, just friends comforting each other. He closed that subject, not enjoying it's trajectory.

Now the big thing - so many ideas for what to do with Quinn. Not quite as creative as taking her to Color Me Mine, but maybe a traditional romantic "wine and dine" might win her back.

Good idea - he needed wine. But he was poor. He'd started delivering pizzas and his parents insisted that he keep some of the money he brought in, but could he really spend the $30 he'd saved on this? He was really looking forward to new comics...but in light of what had happened at Rachel's party, a dinner with Quinn seemed necessary. He had to be the Prom King she needed. In the dark, it was okay to be weird, but the sun shining in through the motel window told the truth. He couldn't be a freak - he wasn't one. He couldn't be -

Sam clutched his money. He couldn't spend it on wine, but Quinn probably wouldn't want to get really drunk anyway. So he slipped Puck $8 at school.

"I need wine coolers, Puckerman."

Puck looked down at the money and then raised an eyebrow at Sam. "Dude, didn't you learn anything from Berry's party? That's not the way to get smashed-"

"I'm not having a party or trying to get smashed. It's for a date."

Puck had looked like he wanted to say something, but Sam was relieved when he kept his mouth shut and pocketed the money.

The next evening, Sam stood over one of the table sets on the edge of the motel's pool, satisfied with the elegance of the spread before him. He'd borrowed one of his mom's scented candles (they hadn't been able to sell those to anyone) and dinner- well, dinner was microwaved meals. But it was steak, peas and mashed potatoes, set out on paper plates in the candlelight. Quinn had agreed to meet him. He was sure it was because of his situation, but he didn't care why - as long as she made it. He patted his hair as he spied Quinn walking towards him. He had her here, now all he had to do was get her to see that he was her guy.

He pulled out a chair for her as she approached, and she sat hesitantly. He put a paper napkin in her lap and she gave him an appreciative smile. And now, to impress! He bent down and pulled up a wine cooler. Quinn's face paled and her eyes seemed blank as Sam brandished the forbidden beverage. She surveyed the bottle, slowly pushed his hand away from her and set aside the napkin before standing.

"Is this supposed to be funny?"

Sam's face fell. "What?"

"Wine coolers." She glared at the bottle, shaking her head and giving a small huff. "The same brand."

"What's wrong?"

Quinn rolled her eyes to the heavens, ignoring his confusion. "I knew this was a bad idea."

She brought her hands to her temples and backed away. Sam followed, but one hand shot out to stop him. She turned on her heel and marched away. Sam looked at his efforts, $20 dollars down the drain, and ran his hands through his hair. What was it this time? He blew the candle out as he went into his hotel room, numb as he brought his little brother outside to eat with him. It was a little late for him, but Stevie was wide awake and they couldn't let the food go to waste. He didn't even taste the plastic food going down his throat. He was running out of options, and the worst part of it was that he couldn't even text or talk to Kurt about it.

He'd had to sell his phone.