Adjusting to a new person in his house was a little different than Kurt expected. Most of his life it had been just Kurt and his dad, only with the addition of Carole and Finn later in Kurt's teen years. Soon after, he was off to New York with Rachel, only visiting occasionally for holidays and a week or two during summer.
He felt more and more like a houseguest in his own home, which wasn't uncommon in his visits that generally lasted a week or so, but for this longer stay he expected it to be a little different.
It wasn't, though, and Kurt was having to get used to the ease that Sam and Finn seemed to have where he just didn't. Sam was another story completely on his own. Where Finn had lived there for several years, Sam's stay had been a matter of months, but that didn't have any effect on his apparent comfort level. Kurt was steadily getting used to leaving for his morning run and finding Sam sprawled out, hanging halfway off the couch with his blanket barely covering his legs, leaving his shirtless torso wonderfully on display.
Really, Kurt was mostly jealous at his own inability to be that slender and cut, particularly when he was Sam's age and was more soft than anything. He'd built up since then, of course, but it didn't tamper the mild pangs of envy when he allowed himself a glance or two before heading out the door, shutting it quietly behind him so as to not wake the sleeping boy.
He spent his run musing over the boy, his unique personality and tendency to talk at Kurt a lot with a false kind of confidence that was more endearing than it was actually fake. The previous night Finn had convinced Kurt to stay in and watch a movie with them rather than go out, and Sam spent much of it comparing and contrasting the abilities of each superhero in the movie and how he himself would fit into the mix. Kurt, not necessarily interested in the film itself, listened in amusement, still unable to pin down Sam's personality, and perhaps just recognizing the fact that Sam was just…Sam.
He was grateful, at the very least, that regardless of how close Finn and Sam seemed to be, they still made him feel comfortable and welcome hanging out with them. Kurt, while already feeling a little more isolated being six years older than them, had very few remaining friends in Lima, and even fewer that he still spoke to. So, while hanging out with a couple of seventeen year olds was certainly much different company than he generally kept in New York, he appreciated it all the same.
That night Kurt decided to go out to Scandals like he had skipped out on the night before. Hanging out with his brother and Sam was fun and amusing, sure, but it'd been over two weeks since he left New York, and over a month since his fling with James had ended, and Kurt just needed a different kind of company for a night.
Kurt crept quietly into the house, mindful of its sleeping occupants, but also of the fact that coming home at 4am, still a little tipsy and a lot disheveled, wasn't something he wanted the whole family to witness. He'd stayed at the guy's apartment (Kyle, he think it was), sobering up for just a couple hours before deeming himself ready to be behind the wheel, and he just wanted to be in his own bed already, exhausted and ready to pass out.
He heard a loud sniffling noise and froze, turning the corner and noticing that the kitchen light was on. Chanting in his head please don't be Dad, please don't be Dad, please don't be Dad, Kurt peeked into the lit room, and relaxed slightly when he saw it was just Sam, his anxiousness ebbing away. Concern took its place however, when he took in how Sam sat at the dining room table, hunched over with his head resting on folded arms, and he drew in another sniffle.
"Sam?" Kurt said tentatively and the other boy shot up in surprise, on his feet in a flash and wiping his hands messily across his face to clear up the tears that didn't quite stop flowing. He pulled himself together a little quicker than Kurt expected him to be able to, though.
"You're home. I was just…you know, couldn't sleep," Sam explained lamely, avoiding Kurt's eyes, and trying to slide past him into the living room, but Kurt put a hand on his arm to stop him.
"What's wrong, Sam?"
And there must have been something in Kurt's voice, some comfort or authority that Sam buckled under, losing the little composure he'd been able to muster, and breaking down once more.
Kurt gathered Sam into his arms, and the boy went willingly, gratefully. He wrapped his own arms around Kurt's waist, crying into Kurt's collar. They stood there for a few minutes, Sam getting increasingly quieter, finally silencing his sobs altogether, but not moving from his spot.
"It was my sister's birthday today," Sam whispered against Kurt's shoulder, his voice slightly muffled. "She turned ten. Double-digits and everything, and I missed it."
Kurt murmured a sympathetic, "Sam," before the boy kept speaking, getting it off his chest in a soul-baring kind of way.
"I love living here, I really do. I love McKinley and everyone here, but for a long time it was just…me and my siblings. I miss them so much, and I'm just missing things. She's ten, and all I could do was pretend to be cheerful and wish her a happy birthday over the phone." Sam pulled back a little to look Kurt in the eyes. "Did Finn ever tell you I was a stripper?"
Kurt stared at him blankly before replying, "No. He didn't." And damn, this really wasn't the time to be thinking about that.
"Well, I was. It was alright, not really the part time job I expected to have in high school, but the money was so incredible, and we really needed it. I did everything for them while my parents just tried to make ends meet. And now it's just—I'm not even there to give her a hug on her birthday, and it just sucks sometimes."
Sam buried his head back in Kurt's neck, and Kurt could do nothing but hold him tighter, stroke along his back and whisper any encouragement he could come up with, mostly just repeating, "It'll be okay," until they just stood in silence.
Sam finally loosened his hold around Kurt's waist, his head dipping down to place one lingering kiss, a press of the lips, to Kurt's collarbone. It was so light Kurt thought he might be imagining it, but he was simultaneously sure of it.
He froze slightly, Sam felt it, reacting and stepping away to increase their distance.
"Sorry, I—thanks. For listening, and…just thanks."
Sam ducked his head as he retreated, scrambling around the corner, and Kurt could hear his thump onto the couch like he'd done a full body flop onto the cushions.
Kurt allowed himself a couple minutes, mulling about in the kitchen, taking tiny sips of a glass of water, swallowing down a couple of aspirin, and forcing his brain to quiet down a little, since it still wasn't quite at full capacity. Finally, when his eyes started to close a little longer with each blink (and though he wouldn't admit it, he'd hoped Sam had enough time in the living room to be drifting off to sleep), Kurt finally flicked the light off and navigated his way through the dark, heading for the stairs.
He allowed himself one tiny glance to the couch, but it was just a dark mess of blankets. He hoped nevertheless that under everything was a peacefully sleeping boy, escaping his troubles through his dreams.