Note: Just wanted to take the time to thank those who are reading - hope you're enjoying it. Also, there's a Santana "trouty mouth" joke in here that I feel like I've stolen from someone else's fic. If I did, it was wholly unintentional. Thanks.

Sam's Original Song.

Trouty mouth. Catchy, jazzy, it replayed in his mind and made him grit his teeth - and suck in his lips - as Sam sat outside of his family's motel room. His fingers flexed on both hands, curling into claws. He'd taken Kurt's advice and put Quinn behind him, but Santana was rude and mean, and he used to be pretty scared of her. Now, he didn't cower in fear, but he didn't want to fight, either. He had to find a way to make this thing with her work without wanting to pull his hair out. He needed this relationship almost more than he'd needed the one with Quinn.

Sam shook his head and looked up at the stars. It was only like nine o'clock. He would just go to sleep, but his sleep had been filled with really freakish dreams lately. Like, dreams no dude should ever have. He closed his eyes to shut out even the thought of these illusions, but he still heard that familiar high-pitched humming in his ear, calling him to confess. He reached up to close his hands over his ears, but the humming got louder and Sam realized that it was real.

He opened his eyes and had to press his lips together to keep from smiling full on as Kurt walked up to him. As always, he was carrying a box of stuff. Maybe he should have let himself smile. Kurt had been a huge help since he found out about Sam's situation, and Sam was grateful. For the clothes, for the advice, for the talks...there'd been a lot of talks.

"Hey!" He beamed at Sam as he came to a halt, then looked at his door. "I'm sorry this is late - I was a little distracted."

"It's cool," Sam said, standing to take the box from him.

Kurt held onto it, biting his lower lip and looking extremely chipper for this late at night. Sam even noticed that his eyes seemed shinier than most nights, like they belonged up in the sky with the other stars. The sappy thought made him give a silent groan.

"Ask me why!" Kurt insisted, voice still spritely.

"OK." Sam narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Blaine likes me!"

At Kurt's announcement (more like squawk, actually), Sam's mouth dropped open. He knew the right reaction to give. He should have given Kurt a high five...or maybe a hug or something? No, no hugs. No physical contact. He managed to snap his jaw shut and nod, taking the box from Kurt. He realized that Kurt was waiting for something more, so he let a half-hearted smile make a brief appearance on his face.

"Uhh...sounds sweet."

"I know! I feel like Cinderella."

Sam lifted an eyebrow at his friend, then dropped his head to look into the box.

"Anything I can actually wear in here?"

Kurt gave him a droll look, but a smile crept onto his face. This teasing was a part of their normal routine. Sam placed the box on the motel porch, and Kurt rummaged through it to pull out a star-studded, red, white and blue tank top. He held it out before him with a flourish.

"This is the pièce de résistance!"

Sam did a double take. "This is like Captain America on steroids."

"Patriot chic," Kurt amended, holding it up against Sam and admiring the picture.

Sam shook his head as Kurt laughed. This time, Sam doesn't hold back his smile. Their eyes met, and Sam's heart jumped between them. He felt his face growing warm, and he was so happy that Kurt's hand was clasped over his shoulder.

He probably couldn't feel the quick drumming in Sam's chest. Didn't notice that Sam was leaning into him just a little, getting closer to the interesting crinkles beside Kurt's eyes, closer to the stars...

Kurt reared back, crinkles gone and eyes wide, and Sam's heart began to slow. They were standing outside of his motel room, his family mere feet away as they stood under the stars, but this wasn't one of Sam's dreams. Sam shrugged Kurt's hands off of his shoulders as Kurt's mouth opened.

"He kissed me," Kurt blurted, snatching the tank top down. "Blaine did."

Sam nodded, then crouched next to the box. He picked up a jacket with some kind of flower pattern on it and a corner of his mouth hitched up. It was an awesome jacket, kind of like a short trenchcoat -totally Kurt. Kurt's feet shuffled in the silence, and Sam looked up. His smile faded .

"You probably wanna go, then," Sam said. He couldn't help adding, "wouldn't want to keep you away from your Prince Charming."

Kurt rolled his eyes, but giggled. "Well, he is that."

"What's it like?"

"What?"

"Being with someone you love?"

Kurt was already flustered over their odd little moment, and Sam's question didn't make it any better. Didn't Sam know what it was like? Kurt felt triumphant. Today, his dreams had come true. He was finally beginning a real love with Blaine! It was finally his turn.

"Cinderella, remember?"

Sam frowned, and Kurt gave a long suffering sigh. The Sams of the world were sometimes utterly hopeless - once again, he had to translate something perfectly normal into Sam speak. "Like I finally fit in. Like there's something here for me."

Kurt was struck by Sam's expression. The look was almost similar to the one on Blaine's face mere hours before, when he'd finally admitted that he liked Kurt, too. Ha. Funny that Kurt's voice was just as lost right now, his stomach fluttering just as it had in that moment. Very funny. Then Sam looked away, and it all disappeared. Maybe it hadn't even happened.

"What about your dad? Or your friends? We don't make you feel like that?"

Sam's gaze was turned on him again, and he squirmed under it. "Of course you do. It's just...different."

Sam shrugged, and Kurt felt the unnatural need to hug him. It was Sam, but Kurt still didn't think it would be the best idea.

"Well, that must be nice. Santana's driving me nuts. Isn't she ever nice to anyone?"

"She's nic-er to Brittany." Kurt thought. "And sometimes Puck."

Sam's thunderstruck face was amusing. "They used to ride the hobby horse with each other waaay back when. I guess there is something to be said about the bad boys."

Kurt wished he could snatch his words back when he saw the concentrated, determined look on Sam's face. Oh, dear. What was the lovelorn sweetheart about to embark upon now?

Sam watched Puck lift weights. He didn't just lift them - he stood before the mirror making ugly, intimidating faces. And one of his eyebrows was perpetually cocked, challenging himself. He looked smug, confident - totally into himself, as any bad boy should be. Sam stood beside him and put extra weight on his bells for motivation. He stuck his tongue out just so to mimic Puck's, cocked an eyebrow and tried to conjure smug. I am Johnny Storm, Tony Stark...

He grunted when Puck grunted - or at least tried to - until Puck dropped his weights, giving Sam a weirded-out look. Sam continued working out, grunting a greeting at Puck. Puck frowned and walked slowly toward the showers.

In Glee Club, Sam listened in as Puck spoke to Artie.

"I'm totally getting into those big panties. I'll buy her a muffin basket, take her out and bam! Struck by Puckzilla's lightning. We're already dating."

Artie just stared at Puck. "Wow. I did not want to hear any of that."

"Dude, don't insult my woman. She's real special. I could pull any chick in this whole school easy - but I want her. And I'm halfway there."

Sam's cheeks flushed. His dad would not approve, but maybe Santana liked that kind of attitude in a guy.

So - aggressive, confident, into himself, attitude. Sam knew he was well equipped to walk into McKinley the next day with the Puckerman method.

Santana was by her locker talking to Brittany when he approached. He smoothly (if he did say so himself) inserted himself between them, leaning his crooked elbow against her locker with a cocky grin and sexy, cocked eyebrow.

"So, what's up, hot-"

But his rehearsed line was ruined when Santana slammed her books against his arm, knocking it off of her locker and sending him into Brittany, who steadied him. Sam grabbed his aching and scratched elbow, glowering at her. She raised her books again, and he backed further into Brittany.

"You want more of this? No? Then maybe you should let Brittany here tell you my locker policy, sweetie. That's the best way to avoid injury."

Sam turned to Brittany. She gave him an apologetic smile.

"Santana only lets cool people lean against her locker. That's me -" Brittany started to count on her fingers, got confused and stopped. "And Puck. Anyone else who tries it gets hurt - and she always finds out about it."

"How?"

Brittany shrugged. "I tell her. Or she threatens Jacob. But I know Santana didn't like doing that to you - it's just that it's a policy."

"Her policy."

"Yeah." Brittany nodded. "She has to hit you. She told me. I'm just glad I don't have a locker policy."

With that, she skipped off to class, leaving Sam scarred and confused.

He tried again later that day as they walked to Glee practice. Santana let him put his arm around her. He even got away with nuzzling her temple as other students walked by - so far, so good.

"You're so hot. I can't wait to tap this."

He squeezed her shoulder. He couldn't bring himself to actually tap her butt - he did value his life. She shrugged out of his hold and stood before him, propping a hand in the middle of his chest.

"Look, this relationship works much better when your mouth is shut. Plus those large lips of yours are sucking in all the good air - I can hardly breathe." She pretended to gag and wheeze. "See? So let's just make it to Glee Club before I die. And if you ever, ever try to 'tap this' or violate my locker policy without permission, I will violate you. Get it, whorelips?"

Sam nodded, unable to speak around the lump in his throat. They both made it to the choir room alive. As Sam sat down, Puck plopped down beside him.

"Dude, you like dudes, that's your thing. And I know I'm pretty hot, but people are starting to talk about your crush on me and that's not cool. Tone it down. I don't want talk reaching Zizes' ears."

Sam wondered if Mr. Schue would protest if he just got up and went home. People were talking about him. Liking dudes. If only they knew.