Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Losing My Religion.

Note: I promise, I won't drag out the "when will they get together?" for much longer. I swear, it'll happen very soon. Just bear with me, okay?

Every whisper
Of every waking hour
I'm choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt, lost, and blinded fool, fool

Sam was kissing Rory. Rory was moaning at Sam's kisses, warm and writhing beneath Sam, both of their bodies naked. Sam was laying kisses along the length of Rory's body, hot burning kisses that seemed to scald Rory's pale skin. He was taking Rory's hard penis in his hand, stroking it and stroking it, as Rory continued moaning and panting.

When Sam woke up, his underwear and sheets were wet. "Shit!" I just had a wet dream about Rory…oh God, oh God…no, this is not happening right now, no way, no how…He leapt out of bed and changed his underwear and sheets. It wasn't the first time he'd had a wet dream, but it was the first he'd ever had about a boy. It was even more embarrassing when Sam considered the fact that the boy in question was right down the hall. He froze in the middle of putting new sheets on his bed. Am I…gay? He didn't have anything wrong with being gay. He was friends with Kurt and Blaine and Santana and supported them despite their sexualities. He didn't care if people were gay or not; as long as the relationship was a healthy one, he had no problems with it. But he didn't know if he could handle being gay himself. What would he tell his parents? What would he tell his friends? What would he tell his little brother and sister?

Worse, what would he tell Rory? "Hey, I think I have feelings for you?"

He realized it now, his feelings for the blue-eyed boy. They were way more intense and powerful than those of his feelings for Quinn, Mercedes, or Santana. He'd never felt his skin catch fire when he touched their hands. He never stumbled over his words around them. He never felt this lurching feeling in his stomach just hearing their voices.

And none of their eyes were as pretty as Rory's.

Sam loved that endless blue color of Rory's eyes. They were like the purest ocean, a color Sam had never seen before, even in nature. They were full of things that Sam couldn't decipher; pain and sadness, yet a light glimmering in the back somewhere that Sam longed to reach. If only he could sum up the courage to tell Rory what he was feeling. If only he knew Rory's feelings for him.

He froze again. He wasn't even sure about Rory's sexuality. All Rory said was that he didn't have a girlfriend. That didn't mean he was gay…but it didn't mean he was entirely straight, either. What if Rory wasn't straight? Did Sam have a chance? Could he win the younger boy over? Oh, no—what would happen when Rory had to go back to Ireland? Sam didn't want to think about that day. He just wanted Rory, more than he ever wanted anyone before. He wanted to hold him and kiss him and see if the spark was still there when their lips touched. It certainly had been in that dream. But then again, dreams were just dreams. They were just scattered thoughts in your mind left over from the day. Sam had no control over what he dreamed.
He wondered vaguely if Rory had ever dreamed of him, too.

He wanted to know so, so badly.

Later

"Rory, I have to talk to you."

"Okay," Rory sighed. "What about, Sam?"

"First of all, if you're…offended or anything…that I slept with Santana, I'm sorry. She kind of talked me into it. It didn't mean anything, really. She was just trying to prove that she wasn't gay. I felt really used after, but I've forgiven her." He begged Rory with his eyes to forgive him and tell him that it was okay, that he accepted the apology.

"I accept your apology," Rory said after several moments. "But I don't understand why you did what you did. You should've waited until you found the right girl."

"I didn't want to be the last virgin in Glee club," Sam shrugged.

"Well, now that honor belongs to me. Thanks a lot." Rory's eyes went icy with anger.

"Rory, I-"

"Forget it, Sam. I don't understand why people can't just wait until they find the right person. I haven't met them yet, so I haven't had sex yet."

"Them?" Sam's heart beat faster. "Are you…what's your…"

"I do not wish to talk to you about this," Rory's eyes went icier still.

"You can trust me," Sam told him. "I won't tell anyone. If you're gay or whatever, I'm totally cool about it."

"I don't want to…no…Sam, stop trying to get to know me. If I want you to get to know me, I will open up to you. But I don't want to right now."

"Ouch," Sam looked stung. "Harsh, Rory."

Rory shrugged. "That's the way I am sometimes."

The next day

"Sammy, it's snowing!"

"Really?" Sam got up and peered outside the window. Indeed, the world was already covered in a blanket of white, and still more was coming down from the grey skies.

"Can we go play in it?" Stacy begged. "Please, please, please?"

"Well…" Sam's parents were working, and he was delegated with the task of babysitting (which at least he was getting paid for). "I don't see why not. Make sure you put on your snowsuits, and your gloves, and boots, and hats. Oh, and your scarves, too. If you need help, come see me, okay?" The twins raced off to get dressed for the snowy day. Sam cautiously tapped on Rory's door. "The twins and I are going outside to play in the snow. You can join us…if you want…" There came no answer, and, defeated, Sam slumped off to his room to shrug on some old sweats, gloves, and a hat. At the last minute, he put a scarf his grandmother had knitted around his neck. He pulled on his boots and joined the kids downstairs, who were practically vibrating with excitement at the first snowfall.

"Wait!" Rory ran downstairs. "Wait, I want to join you."

"Yay," Stacy squealed. She grabbed Rory's hand and squeezed it tightly. He smiled at her. "Can we build a snowperson, Rory? And can we make snow angels?"

"Of course we can do those things, Stacy," he said.

"Can we have a snowball fight?" Stevie asked his big brother.

"Yeah, sure." Sam couldn't take his eyes off of Rory…Rory, who was wearing the blue scarf that he had bought for him, the one that matched his eyes perfectly. Rory, who looked so adorable, all bundled up for the cold. Rory, who his little sister clearly adored.

Rory, who would never be his, for Sam never knew what to say.

"Well, let's go," Rory said brightly. Sam followed wordlessly.

"Sammy?" He looked down at his little brother. "Why do you look at Rory like that?"

He sighed. "I can't really explain it, Stevie."

"Do you love him?"

Sam didn't know how to answer that question. His brother's eyes—so young, and in that moment, so wise and intuitive—were full of admiration and wonder and questions. "I don't know," he answered finally. "I honestly don't know."

Stevie thought this over. "How do you not know if you love someone?"

"Sometimes love is complicated," he tried to explain. "You may think you love someone, but you don't. And you may think you don't like someone, but deep down, you do."

"Can boys love boys?"

Sam froze. He closed his eyes; how to explain this to a six-year-old? "Yes," he said after a few moments. "Remember how I told you about my friend, Kurt? And his boyfriend, Blaine? They love each other, and they're both boys. Boys can love boys, and girls can love girls. Love…love is just love, Stevie. It doesn't matter who it's with. It's the same whether it's two girls, two boys, or a boy and a girl."

"Oh." Stevie seemed to accept this answer. "So then you can love Rory and it's okay?"

"Yes," Sam whispered. "I can." His eyes followed Rory as the blue-eyed boy helped his little sister build a "snowperson", rolling the body with her and assisting her in lifting the head on top of it. "But Stevie, I'm not sure if I do love him or not."

"Is it different than how you love me? Like…is grown-up love different than parent love or sister/brother love?"

"Very different," Sam nodded. "Hey!" He yelled as he was hit by a snowball. Stacy, from across the yard, giggled, Rory smiling approvingly.

"Nice aim," Rory high-fived her.

"I'll get you back for that, Flanagan!" Sam immediately dropped down and scooped up a clump of snow, molding it into a ball. "Don't forget, I'm a baseball player!" He lobbed the snowball back at Rory, who ducked and missed it.

"It's on, Evans!" Rory flung one right back towards Sam. "Me and Stacy against you and Stevie!"

"Oh, you're so on," Sam grinned wickedly.

Later

"Hot chocolate, Rory?"

"Oh, yes, please," Rory gratefully accepted the steaming mug from Sam. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Sam sat down across from him at the kitchen table. The twins were watching a video in the living room, wrapped in a blanket and munching on popcorn.

"My Mum makes great hot chocolate. She puts a little cinnamon in it. It's great."

"Tell me more about her," Sam sipped his drink carefully.

"Everyone tells me I get my eyes from her," Rory said softly. "I think I get them from my Pa, though. She's a great woman, really, she is. I love her dearly. My Pa is great, too. He is the editor of a magazine. Mum stays at home with Seamus."

"You guys sound close," Sam averted his eyes from Rory's bright ones.

"We are, we are," Rory nodded. "I miss them a lot, though."

"I don't know if I could do that," Sam admitted. "Living with a complete stranger in a strange country, away from family and friends for a year. I can see it would be fun and all, and it's a cool opportunity, but I think I'd miss home too much."

"Oh," Rory sighed. "I do miss it, don't get me wrong, but it's nice here, I suppose."

"Is the weather the same there as it is here?" Sam asked curiously.

"A little colder than it is here," Rory said honestly. "But it is more beautiful there."

"Wow, sounds awesome," Sam said. 'Sounds awesome'? How lame was that?

Rory giggled. "It is 'awesome'."

That night

"Hey, you still up?" Sam knocked on the door.

"Yeah, come in," Rory called back. Sam took a deep breath and did. Rory put a bookmark in the novel he had been reading and set it aside.

"Oh, you're reading," Sam said uncomfortably.

Rory frowned. "You do not like to read?"

"I…" Sam winced. "I'm dyslexic. Words get all mixed up in my brain, and…and I have problems reading and writing sometimes. I'm pretty bad at spelling, too. That's why I like music and movies and that stuff and only read when I really have to. I have to read really slow, too, or else the words get totally mixed up and I get confused."

Rory was silent for several moments. "I am sorry."

"Don't be," Sam murmured. "I hate being dyslexic. I'm always in the resource room at school and spelling things wrong on my homework and tests and stuff. It makes me feel so…so…so stupid sometimes."

"You're not stupid," Rory said quietly. "And it's not your fault that you have problems reading and writing. From my understanding, millions of people have dyslexia. In fact, some of the most famous people in the world had or do have the disorder."

"Really? Like who?" Sam asked curiously.

"Oh, loads of people," Rory shrugged. "Walt Disney had dyslexia. Henry Ford had dyslexia. Muhammad Ali, George Washington, Alexander Graham Bell…even John Lennon, and Stephen Spielberg."

"Wait, Stephen Spielberg is dyslexic?" Sam was dumbfounded. "As in, one of the greatest movie directors on Earth?"

"Yep," Rory grinned. "See, you're not alone. If you want, I can help you with your homework. You know, check it for spelling and grammar."

"That would be great," Sam admitted. "Stacy and Stevie always ask me for help, but I'm too embarrassed to help them. I don't want to admit that I can't spell certain words or read 'saw' for 'was' by accident and then they look at me funny. I'm their big brother; I'm supposed to help them. They look up to me so much…"

"They love you no matter what," Rory told him. "They don't care if their big brother has dyslexia. You're their big brother, and you're always there for them. That is what matters. They will not care either way."

"Thanks," Sam mumbled.

"Here," Rory gestured to the space on the bed next to him. "Want me to read to you?"

"What, like a bedtime story?" Sam smirked.

"Yes," Rory said evenly. "Like a bedtime story. I think you will enjoy this book."

"Oh, all right," Sam crawled onto the bed. He didn't want to, but he fell asleep listening to Rory's soft voice reading to him…

…and woke up in his own bed, wondering how he had gotten there.

To be continued…