Chapter 8:
Sam kept his hands shoved into his jacket pocket as he stood outside the customers apartment, waiting to be let in. He'd knocked already, and he thought he could hear movement from behind the thick black door, but no one had answered yet. He raised his fist and knocked again, and a moment later the door was yanked open by a bald man with a cellphone held against his ear.
"No, no I told you the documents needed to be faxed by Monday, you incompetent putz!" The man barked into the cellphone. He stepped back from the door, and motioned with his other hand for Sam to come in.
Sam followed the customer—Blaine had told him his name was Roy Katz—into his apartment, and stood awkwardly in the middle of it as Katz continued to verbally rip apart whoever he was talking to on the phone. "No—no I don't care what Norma said, I care what I said! Huh? Well if she said that then where the fuck is she now?"
Katz's face was slightly flushed, and it went all the way up to the top of his bald head. He was on the shorter side, at least a head shorter than Sam, and he appeared to be in his late 30's or early 40's. His apartment was nice, with a lot of modern looking furniture and decor. Sam thought he was standing in what must have counted as the living room. There were two black leather sofa's, a sleek glass coffee table and a large plasma TV mounted on the grey wall.
Just thinking about what all of it must have cost made Sam's head spin.
"Look, I don't give an acrobating fuck how you do it, just make sure it gets done or you can forget about coming in for work on Monday because you'll be fucking fired!" With that, Roy disconnected the call and slammed his cellphone down onto one of his leather couches, where it bounced up lightly and toppled to the floor. He took a moment to sigh heavily and pinch his eyes tightly with his thumb and forefinger, before turning to Sam. "You don't know anything about asset management or commercial real estate, do you?" He asked tiredly.
"Uhh..." Sam said, as Katz walked over to his coffee table and picked up what looked to Sam like a small silver pill box. "Honestly, I don't even know what those words mean."
Katz snorted, "You're a better man for it," He said. He then opened the box and took out a pinch of white powder, which he held up to his nostril and inhaled sharply. He repeated the action with his other nostril, and then blinked rapidly, wiping and his nose and sniffing a few more times.
"Do some." He said, coming over to where Sam was standing and holding out the box.
Sam hesitated. "Um, I don't really do that sort of stuff..."
Katz narrowed his eyes, and Sam felt his heart begin to thud inside his chest. "I wasn't asking you, I was telling you." Katz said, grabbing Sam by the back of his hair and pulling harshly. Sam sucked his breath in, trying not to yelp as pain shot threw his scalp. "Listen up, slut," Katz growled. "You're mine for the next two fucking hours and you're going to do what I tell you, when I tell you, alright?" He shook Sam painfully, and Sam cried out. "I have to deal with this bullshit all week from the fucking brain dead assholes I work with, and I'll be fucked before I tolerate it from a goddamned whore. Do you understand?"
Sam nodded frantically, barely able to concentrate on what was being said to him through the pain. Katz let go finally and Sam let himself fall against the back of couch, gripping the black leather as he steadied himself.
"Good," Katz said, a predatory smile on his face. Sam breathed heavily, shrinking back under Katz's gaze. "Now get your ass into the bedroom and strip," He said, pointing to another black door across the apartment. "And let's see if we can work through some of those anger issues people keep telling me I have."
"I need to talk to you," Kurt said, taking a seat on the edge of his and Blaine's bed. Blaine put down the book he was reading, and gave him an expectant look. "It's about Sam,"
Kurt had been putting off speaking to Blaine about Sam for a while now, for fear that it might betray their secret to him, but enough was enough now. That evening Sam had come home with long scratches and welts covering his back and hips, and when he walked it was less with a limp than with a stagger. He'd barely been coherent enough to even tell Kurt what had happened, he'd just sobbed in Kurt's arms for the better part of an hour.
Kurt couldn't take seeing his friend like that, and if Sam wasn't going to say anything in his own defence, it was up to Kurt.
Blaine sighed. "Kurt, I know you don't like him but I keep telling you—"
"No, no it's not that." Kurt interrupted. "It's...well, I'm worried about him, I guess."
From the look on his face, it was obvious that Blaine hadn't expected that. "Since when?"
Kurt shrugged. "For a little while now... I've just put off saying anything because I don't actually like him a whole lot," Kurt said carefully. "But even if he's not my favourite person, I still don't like to see him coming home with bruises every week. Or worse, like today."
"Ah..." Blaine said, looking away.
Kurt furrowed his brow. "Yeah. I was wondering if you knew why it is I've been mistreated by a customer about four times in the last year, and Sam seems to get roughed up four times a month?" Blaine didn't say anything, and Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Blaine, tell me what's going on." He demanded.
Slowly, Blaine lifted his eyes up to meet Kurt's, a guilty expression on his face. "Listen, Kurt, the thing you need to understand about Sam is that he isn't... well... he isn't you."
"And what does that mean?"
"It means that right from the start, you have been so good. You're flirty, and charming and seductive and you know exactly what every customer wants to hear. Everything about you is high class, top dollar."
Kurt's eyes flashed. "And what, Sam isn't?" He demanded. A voice in his head told him to calm down, to not let Blaine see how upset he was over this—after all, he wasn't supposed to care about Sam. But he did, and it was difficult.
Blaine gave him a pleading look. "Kurt, come on, you've seen how Sam is with customers. He's quiet and sullen, he can barely force himself to make eye-contact... it's unprofessional." Blaine waited for Kurt to respond, but Kurt simply continued to glare at him, not trusting himself to speak at the moment. "In order to charge the same for Sam as I do for you... I have to make certain accommodations..."
Blaine looked at the ground, and Kurt took a moment to process what Blaine was saying. He struggled to keep his voice even as he spoke. "So... you let them be rough with him so you can charge more?" He asked, feeling his face turn red.
Blaine cringed, and Kurt attempted to remind himself that he loved Blaine, and should not jump forward and throttle him. No, no he should not.
God he wanted too though.
"Blaine, this is the most disgusting, immoral thing I have ever heard." He said instead. "Sam is a person, Blaine. A person who didn't ask for any of this and deserves your fucking respect—"
"I never said I didn't respect him!" Blaine protested.
"What you're doing says it for you!" Kurt shouted, unable to hold himself back any longer. "It's sickening, and it stops now."
"That's not your call, Kurt." Blaine said. "If people aren't allowed to use special treatment with Sam, then they'll never pay so much for him. Which means he'll have to work more jobs for less pay—it'll probably exhaust him just as much."
Kurt crossed his arms. "Blaine, we both know I make enough for the both of us. Sam coming in was just supposed to help relieve me a little. He can afford to work the same amount, and make a little less, alright?"
Blaine ground his teeth. "I'll see what I can do," He said reluctantly.
"Good," Kurt said, getting into bed as violently as he could. "And whatever customer he saw today, I don't want him seeing ever again. You should see what he did to him." He wrinkled his nose in disgust, with both the pervert who'd hurt Sam, and Blaine for letting it happen.
Blaine sighed. "Alright, fine." He mumbled, getting into bed as well. "For the record, I never said anyone could abuse him." Blaine said. "They were just allowed to be a little rougher than would usually be allowed."
"You're not helping yourself, Blaine." Kurt snapped, rolling over and facing away from him.
Blaine sighed again, and reached over and turned off the light.
Sam lay on his stomach, resting his head against the couch cushion as Kurt applied polysporin and bandages to the scrapes and bruises on his back. "You'll be pleased to know that these are healing nicely," Kurt said. He kept his tone light, not wanting Sam to know how upset looking at his wounds made him.
"Yeah?" Sam asked, putting his arms under his head. "Good. I'm gonna have to start working again soon, and I hate having to answer questions."
"Well, hopefully once these heal you won't be getting any new ones to replace them." Kurt said. He sighed, and shook his head. "I just can't believe so many people would be this awful to you."
Sam shrugged. "Not all my customers were bad," He said. "There's one guy—Dave— who's always nice to me... smells nice too."
Kurt smiled at his friend. "Well then him you can keep seeing, and the rest can all go to hell." He said. Finishing up with the bandages, Kurt brushed his fingers along Sam's back, and Sam shivered a bit and laughed.
"Don't do that, it tickles." Sam mumbled, swatting Kurt away.
"Oh, does it?" Kurt asked, a slightly evil grin spreading on his face. He moved his fingers closer to Sam's rib cage and ran his fingers over Sam's skin, causing Sam to jerk violently and let out another burst of laughter.
"Stop, Kurt I mean it!" Sam said, the weight of his words undermined by the laughter in his voice.
"Mmm, no I don't think I will," Kurt said, and began tickling Sam again, all over his chest and sides. Sam wriggled on the cough, laughing hysterically and trying to push Kurt away, but Kurt wouldn't let up.
"No, get away—" Sam cried, backing himself into a corner on the couch.
"Oh, you can do better than that, Sam." Kurt said, moving his tickling down to just above Sam's hips, causing Sam to double over. "Come Sammy, beg me to stop. Give it your all."
"Please, Kurt!" Sam pleaded, his blond hair falling into his eyes as his chin fell against his chest. "Please, I'll do anything, please oh god."
Kurt paused. "Alright, that was actually pretty good..."
Sam smiled at him. "Yeah, I know." He said, then sprung forward, knocking Kurt off the couch and pinning him to the floor, with his wrists above his head. "Practice makes perfect, right?" He said, grinning cheekily. Kurt just glared in response, displeased with this turn of events. "Now, let's see where you're ticklish," Sam said, sitting down on Kurt's pelvis and putting his hands under Kurt's shirt.
"I'm not ticklish," Kurt said, folding his arms across his chest as Sam checked for a sensitive spot on his body.
"Everyone's ticklish somewhere," Sam mumbled, poking his fingers into Kurt's underarms and receiving no reaction. "Hmm...feet maybe," He said, moving off Kurt and grabbing his foot.
"No no—!" Kurt protested, trying to take his foot back from Sam. Sam kept a firm hold around his ankle, and began removing his sock. "No I hate people touching my feet! Stop!"
"Hmm, no I don't think I will," Sam said, mocking him. Kurt tilted his head back and groaned, and then let out a loud squeal as Sam ran a finger along the bottom of his foot. He kicked out violently and managed to get his foot away from Sam, who scrambled back on top of him and once again pinned his wrists to the floor. In the struggle, Sam lost his balance and crashed down on top of Kurt, causing them both to wince in pain.
"Are you alright?" Kurt asked, ceasing his struggling. Sam nodded, and looked at him, and Kurt gulped, realizing how very close Sam was. He was lying on top of him, and almost every part of their bodies were touching... Sam's mouth was close enough that Kurt could feel his warm breath on his chin.
Their eyes were locked together as they both breathed shallowly, recovering from their "fight." Kurt realized he'd never really noticed how nice Sam's eyes were before. They were a beautiful colour, sort of a soft greenish blue... Kurt thought he might have been able to see flecks of gold in them as well.
Sam leaned in, and for a moment Kurt thought he was going to kiss him. But Sam just brushed his nose over Kurt's, nuzzling him softly.
Kurt had no idea why it made his heart ache so much.