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Getting dumped sucks. There is absolutely no other way Kurt can internalize this fact. It just sucks. Especially when you’re dumped so close to a holiday -- a holiday about love and family and togetherness and all that other Hallmark crap. Here it was, the first of December, and Kurt was lying face down on his bed, still in his pajamas despite it being three in the afternoon and wallowing in self pity. The curtains were drawn in his room, blocking out all light from the outside world. He had cried all his tears, broken his fair share of tokens from past affection, and ripped up page upon page of love letter full of broken promises and unfulfilled wishes. Now, he was shifting to the worst post-breakup stage: loathing. He rolled onto his back, combing his fingers through his messy hair. How would he ever find someone when he couldn’t even get dressed? Kurt whined out loud at nothing and no one in particular. Getting dumped just sucks.
“Kurt?” A loud knock on his bedroom door pulled him away from his despair. “Are you in there?”
“Go away,” he shouted, “I haven’t made myself decent.” Kurt had no idea who was on the other side of the door. Frankly, he really didn’t care. It kind of sounded like Sam, though. He liked Sam well enough -- his dopey-yet-good-natured disposition was definitely something he needed in his life -- but at this moment, Kurt really didn’t want to be bothered.
“I super don’t care what you want, I’m coming in,” Sam pushed open the door and gazed down at the other boy, who was cringing and hissing at the sudden illumination from the hallway. “Dude, you have been in here for days and everyone told me to, like, leave you alone but I’m worried about you. I saw this TV show one time about this guy who didn’t leave his room for days and like didn’t get dressed or ate or anything and he died.”
Kurt scowled at Sam through his fingers, attempting to look at the boy without being blinded from the sunlight streaming in through the hallway window located directly behind Sam’s head. Everything was so much brighter in the winter with all that stupid, cold snow reflecting the sun’s rays. “What in God’s name are you talking about, Sam? Did that even happen?”
Sam stepped forward, pleadingly. “I dunno, probably? I saw something like that once on TLC, I think. Whatever, the point is that being broken up with feels like the worst thing ever, especially since it’s almost Christmas, but you need to leave your room. You’re so much better than this and you shouldn’t let some dumbass guy ruin the not-so-dumbass you.” He smiled weakly, hoping his opinions would convince Kurt to at least get dressed.
Groaning, Kurt sat up onto his elbows. “You’re right, you’re right. I will open my curtains. Eventually. Also, I'll probably come down for some toast or something once I try to put a modicum of effort into my appearance.” He rubbed his face, stretching his eyelids out with his fingertips. Kurt looked over to Sam and cocked his head, smiling. “Thank you, though. I appreciate this.”
“Yeah, no problemo,” Sam beamed as he backed into the hall. “Anything else I can do for you?”
Kurt stood up, stretching out his arms and moaning when he heard the satisfying crack of his back. “Yeah, find me a new boyfriend,” he retorted with a smirk, clearly facetious. “Best Christmas present anyone will get me this year.”
Laughing, Sam shut the door. “I”ll see what I can do.”
---
“Well, how nice of you to join the rest of the living,” Burt snorted, mussing up his son’s hair.
Kurt was standing in the kitchen in front of the stove, idly moving a spatula in a frying pan which was cooking scrambled eggs. Typically, Kurt would skip the yolk rationalizing that he didn’t need the cholesterol, but today was an exception. He grumbled and pushed his hair back into place -- he had spent all of five minutes on it.
“How are you, kiddo?” Burt questioned as he leaned against the counter, eyeing Kurt’s sweatpants and t-shirt, “you never wear those kind of clothes outside your room.”
“I’m fine. Sam convinced me to come down and get something to eat, so here I am,” he said flippantly, scraping the eggs onto a dinner plate. Kurt sighed and turned to his dad, who was looking at him with concern. “I am doing a lot better. Trust me,” he smiled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s breakfast time.”
“It’s nearly 4 p.m, Kurt,” his father chuckled deep in his throat, shaking his head. “Nice of that kid to help you out, though.”
“I know,” Kurt huffed through a mouthful of food. Parents reminding you how good and awesome your friends are is always kind of a downer, especially when you know you will never be as sweet as someone like Sam Evans.
Kurt took a seat at the dining room table and shoveled forkfuls of eggs into his mouth, resting his head in his palm. He looked outside the bay window at the gently falling snowflakes and sighed. Everything just looked so beautiful this time of year and he was pissed he had to spend it alone.
“Aaron Tinker.”
“Huh?” Kurt blinked as an iPhone was thrust in front of his face. He leaned his head back and oomph. Sam’s broad chest was pressed against Kurt as Sam leaned over.
“Look,” Sam clicked on the profile picture of some boy on Facebook, “this is Aaron Tinker. He’s in my English class and I think you two would be good together. He wrote the sickest freeverse poem on Battlestar Galactica and I know how you like poetry.”
Kurt looked up at Sam, who was practically splitting his face in half with a grin. Sighing, Kurt held the phone closer to inspect this Aaron Tinker.
“No way,” Kurt scoffed, “those glasses are horrid. I would never.” He placed the phone on the table and cocked an eyebrow up at Sam. “Next, please.”
“Come on, man, Aaron is totally perfect for you. But, that’s your loss, he’ll just find some other boy,” Sam snickered, taking a seat at the table. “How about...” he trailed off, scrolling through Facebook, “him. This guy is in my Geography class and he’s wicked smart and I heard him talking about American Idol and I know how much you love reality shows.”
Kurt leaned over and stared at the screen. “Rob Lee? Sam, come on, look at what he’s wearing in his profile picture. He has a striped shirt on that is black and brown. While the thought of constantly remodeling my boyfriend is tempting, I would rather he start off with at least a slight inclining on how to dress.” He picked up his plate and fork and made his way over to the dishwasher.
“Okay, fine then. What do you want in a guy? I need some sort of guideline or something because it seems like no one is good enough for Kurt Hummel,” Sam taunted, following Kurt into the kitchen.
Kurt smiled thoughtfully, placing his hands on his hips. “He should have the body of Taylor Lautner, be able to handle my level of talent, and have extensive knowledge on basic garment construction and sewing techniques.”
Sam hummed. “What about hair color? Like, brown, blond, or?” he faded.
“No preference whatsoever. Just as long as he’s sweet, cute and funny. Don’t fail me, Samuel. This is all I asked you for for Christmas. If you fail in finding me a boyfriend, you technically also fail me as a friend.”
“Oh, wow, the stakes are high,” Sam laughed as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll find you someone, I promise.”
Kurt rolled his eyes fondly. He pat Sam’s shoulder as he exited the kitchen. “I’m counting on you.”
---
“Here: D.J. Wagner. Dude plays on the basketball team and he’s super ripped and I saw him tear his jeans one time and he used safety pins to, like, prevent the hole from getting bigger so that’s totally knowing how to sew.”
“Sam, I don’t date boys who go by their initials. That’s just tacky.”
“His real name is Declan Joseph, though.”
“Like that makes it any better. Keep trying.”
---
It had been twenty-three days since Kurt was single and he was feeling fine. Honestly. After actually leaving the house and occupying his time with Christmas shopping and decorating, Kurt was finally able to say that he was okay. Better than okay, even. He could listen to “their” songs without crying, and watch movies that reminded him of his previous boyfriend.
It was a seamless transition into being happy again. Kurt chalked most of it up to the holiday spirit, but Sam had a heavy hand in influencing his mood. Every single day at least five times a day, Sam would drag over his laptop or force his phone in Kurt’s face, pointing out guy upon guy that he deemed suitable for him. He had to hand it to Sam -- the boy was certainly trying. And, not all of his taste was flawed; there were a few boys that tickled Kurt’s fancy. Kurt, however, just wasn’t interested in meeting up with some boy to which all previous contact was through an electronic screen. Kurt loved romance -- he loved being able to meet with someone in person and get that rush from the softest brush of fingertips. He loved getting to know someone before taking the romantic plunge.
“Kurt?”
A firm knock on the door pulled Kurt from organizing his tubes of wrapping paper, which were scattered over his bed and floor. He sighed, knowing what Sam wanted from behind the door.
“Come on in,” he called. Kurt was surprised to find that Sam walked into his bedroom completely free of any sort of technological device.
“Are you busy right now?” Sam asked, thumbing the wooden door frame.
Kurt pulled himself cross legged on his bed and shot him a confused look. “Wait, where’s your phone? Or your laptop? Don’t tell me you’ve given up trying to find me a boyfriend? I have to remind you that you promised to find me one for Christmas, and it is the eve of Christmas Eve and still nothing,” he laughed, running his finger along his bedspread. Sam looked nervous, too nervous for someone like Sam, so trying to make him feel at ease was Kurt’s only concern. “Really, though, what’s up?”
“Do you have plans tonight?” Sam bit his bottom lip and rubbed his upper arm. Kurt watched as his fingers gently ran down the jersey fabric of his henley, stopping to pick at a loose thread. “I’m just asking ‘cause it’s not that cold out so we could go skating at the outdoor ice rink? It looks pretty with the lights and stuff,” he said in one breath.
Kurt scrunched up his nose. “Oh, that’s it? Yes, of course I’d love to, but that was not what I was expecting, to be honest. You look like you’re going to throw up, why were you so nervous to ask me to skate?”
Sam sighed, almost in relief. “No, yeah, I was just afraid you wouldn’t wanna, like, hang out with me or you’d have other plans or whatever. But great, that’s awesome,” he grinned. “How much time do you need to get ready?”
Kurt scoffed. “Please, trying to find a suitable outfit to go skating? This will take a while. I need to be warm, yet fashionable. But, not too fashionable, mind you, because if I fall on my ass, I don’t want to ruin my clothes.” He headed to his closet and began to thumb through the hangers. “Wait, do my skates even fit me? What if they don’t?” he cringed.
“Don’t even worry, I asked your dad and Finn and they said we could borrow their hockey skates. I have this all taken care of. Also, I’m only giving you a half hour because I’m pretty much ready to go now.” Sam rapped his knuckles against the wall and left Kurt’s room, beaming.
Kurt clicked his tongue and laughed to himself. Sam was just so strange. Why would he be afraid to ask me to go skating? Sam was really sweet, though, for taking him out for an evening of skating downtown, where all the Christmas lights would twinkle against the snow. Very romantic. Snap out of it, Kurt. Sam was just a friend, a friend who was trying to find you a boyfriend.
His hand froze as he gripped a hanger. Was this a set-up? What if there was some boy meeting them at the rink and Sam would ditch him and leave him alone in a painfully awkward situation? There was no way Sam would do that, and if he did, Sam would not being having a very Merry Christmas.
Eventually, Kurt settled on an old pair of jeans from H&M -- still stylish but didn’t cost a pretty penny, so staining them with ice, dirt and whatever else in God’s name was on an outdoor ice rink would be acceptable. Besides, no one looked that good skating; everyone wears their thickest coats, ten thousand layers of sweaters, and multiple pairs of socks. We can’t all be as gorgeous as Evan Lysacek, can we?
He bounded down the stairs and slipped on his pea coat, thin black gloves, and a pair of earmuffs. He was wrapping a scarf around his neck when he heard Sam from behind.
“Here you go,” Sam said, holding out a pair of hockey skates, its laces tied together into a comically large bow.
“Thanks,” Kurt cringed as he took the footwear. Hockey skates would look absolutely dreadful with his haute couture skating wear, but there were no other options. He didn’t really mind, as he was excited to go out with Sam. Besides, skating was totally one of Kurt's favorite winter activities.
“We can walk there, if you want? I mean, like I said, it’s nice outside. Plus, that way we can totally check out all the Christmas lights and decorations on the houses and stuff. I’ll even let you be as snarky and judgmental as you want,” Sam wiggled his eyebrows at Kurt, who laughed a genuine and deep laugh.
“You certainly know the way to a boy’s heart, Evans. Let’s get a move on before it snows and I turn into an icicle before we hit the rink.”
The two boys made their way down the block towards downtown Lima. The whole trip there, Sam and Kurt would point to the various decorations and either stop to admire, or to relentlessly ridicule. Kurt preferred the more subdued decorations -- white lights, preferably LED, with simple garland edging around door frames or down porch railings. Sam, on the other hand, loved the classic, multicolored lights with the bright bulbs, saying how they reminded him of his childhood and that LED lights were creepy and looked like something aliens would use. Kurt would scoff and grab Sam’s arm fondly -- that boy was ridiculous.
They arrived at the rink and Kurt just had to gasp at the sight laid out before him. Everything looked so ethereal -- the glittering multicolored lights against the bright snow, the soft Christmas music playing over the speaker system, the garland wrapped around the gazebo in the middle of the park. Sam and Kurt made their way to a cluster of benches and sat down, unlacing their skates.
Kurt untied the knot and pulled one skate over his foot, snugly. He tied the laces and scowled down at his feet. These really looked disgusting. He shifted his gaze over to Sam, who was struggling to tie up the laces, his fingers fumbling from the cold. “Don’t be too proud to ask for help, Sam. Here,” Kurt pulled Sam’s leg up from the ground and into his lap. He threaded the laces between his fingers until he pulled them into a tight bow. He smiled at Sam, whose face was completely flushed red. Must be from the cold.
The two carefully walked across the mats leading to the rink. “No one will steal my shoes, right? So help me God if they do,” Kurt glared, eyeing a little girl who was occupying his newly vacant seat.
Sam laughed, “Don’t worry, we can check every ten minutes to see if your stuff is still here.”
“Make it five minutes and we have a deal.”
Sam and Kurt steadied themselves and tentatively placed their feet on the ice. Kurt stood in his spot as three preteen boys sped past him, almost knocking him flat.
“Oh, God, I forgot about children at that age,” he sneered, holding his arms out for balance. Kurt felt his stomach flutter when Sam laced his fingers with Kurt’s, grinning.
“You were that age too. Don’t tell me you didn’t do things to annoy people.”
“I never made it my life’s work to be a little shit on an ice rink.” He looked down to where Sam was swinging their hands lightly. “You okay?”
“Oh, uh, yeah of course. I just figured it’d be best if we, like, stabilized each other on the ice. You know, if I fall down I drag you down too,” Sam stammered, laughing.
Kurt gripped Sam’s hand. “Let do this.”
The boys slowly began to pump their legs, cautiously watching for chips in the ice or children falling in front of them. Kurt every so often would look down at Sam’s hands intertwined with his, his heart skipping a beat every time Sam would stumble, only causing him to squeeze his fingers tighter. Kurt had thought those kinds of feelings for Sam had long passed. Sam was so sweet and such a good friend (who else would try to find him a boyfriend?) -- it was impossible to think of him as something more. Still, here he was holding Kurt’s hand at Christmas time in the crisp December air and Kurt could not ignore the way he felt. Too bad Sam was painfully straight.
Kurt listened and sang along to the songs playing over the speakers, harmonizing with Sam. He scanned his eyes around the park and just sighed; everything was so beautiful.
“Whoa,” Sam gasped as he tripped forward. Quickly, Kurt grabbed his arm and hauled him backwards, stabilizing him. He placed his hand on Sam’s chest, feeling his heart beat rapidly against his palm. “Thanks, man,” he breathed.
“You’re lucky you didn’t drag me down, Evans. You would never have heard the end of it.”
“Uh huh, sure. Hey, do you want to go into the kiddie area? I want to show you my crazy figure skating skills.”
Kurt scoffed. “Now this I’ve got to see.”
They skated against the flow of the skaters (a completely bad idea) until they reached a penned off area designated for children and adults who couldn’t grasp the fundamentals of skating. Kurt leaned against the boards, watching as his breath swirled and disappeared with every exhalation. He snickered as Sam attempted to pirouette on ice.
“Total show off,” he smirked as Sam flourished once he managed to spin around a successful three and a half times.
“Come do watermelons with me,” Sam suggested, skating in front of Kurt. He held out his hands, which Kurt accepted instantaneously. Sam glided backward, his feet flowing against the ice. Kurt giggled as Sam pulled him forward, their fingers locked. He shrieked as some kid came at him, hellbent, causing Kurt to scoot forward into Sam’s arms. Their chests bumped as Kurt strained to get away from the child.
“I swear to God,” Kurt muttered under his breath. He looked up and noticed that Sam’s mouth was only mere, tiny inches away from his. He laughed nervously and pulled back, watching as Sam licked his lips, subconsciously.
“Want to quit for the night and reclaim your shoes?” Sam suggested.
Kurt nodded and held out his hand. “Lets.”
They made their way back to the seating area very carefully, narrowly avoiding tripping over a rough patch in the ice.
“Thank you God that they’re still here,” Kurt breathed, hugging his shoes firmly against his chest. “What?” he sneered, as Sam rolled his eyes.
“You’re crazy, I hope you know that,” Sam replied, rubbing Kurt’s shoulder as his fingers gently gripped the back of Kurt's neck.
Kurt turned to stare at the other boy’s hand, which was lingering on his shoulder. This is new. It was fantastic, though -- this touch caused all of his residual Sam feelings to come bubbling to the surface. Kurt’s stomach felt as if it was full of butterflies, all flitting about and knocking into each other. He looked up at Sam, whose bangs were sticking out from his knit cap and windblown cheeks were stained red. Since when did he look so cute?
Sam cleared his throat and sat down, pulling his skates from his feet. “So do you want to, like, go get hot chocolate? There’s a place on the way back home,” he offered, typing up the laces of his snow boots.
Kurt pat the front of his pockets, frantically. “Shit, I forgot my wallet though. I’ll owe you when we get back.”
Sam slung the skates over his shoulder and shook his head. “Don’t be dumb, it’s, like, 2 bucks max. I can totally afford to buy you something to drink. Come on,” he gestured for Kurt to stand and the two left the rink, heading towards a coffee shop down the street.
Once Sam had generously paid for Kurt’s hot chocolate, they walked down the road and watched as slow snowflakes began to lightly drift and fall from the sky.
“Ahhh,” Sam moaned, sticking out his tongue in the hopes of catching a few stray flakes. Kurt just shook his head, smiling. How adorable.
“So, what did you buy me for Christmas?” Sam asked, blowing on the lid of his drink.
Kurt quirked an eyebrow. “Really? You’re going to ask me that when you haven’t delivered on my present? Also, I’m not telling you, you can wait two more days.”
Sam groaned and knocked his shoulder against Kurt’s. “You’re awful. Plus, I totally haven’t failed you yet. I found a guy who absolutely wants to date you,” Sam said, his voice pitched slightly higher than normal.
“Uh huh, sure,” Kurt teased, taking a sip of his drink. He threw his skates over his shoulder, leaving both hands to cup his hot chocolate.
“It’s true. This guy is a total hottie and he’s really nice and funny, in my opinion. Also, he meets your criteria of having a Taylor Lautner body, being about to handle your talented ass, and knowing stuff about sewing. This guy told me he totally used to make his own dress-up costumes as a kid.”
Kurt took another slow sip of his drink. There is no way in hell Sam was telling the truth. “Go on,” he urged.
Sam stopped and faced Kurt, his brows furrowed. “Honestly, though, he really likes you and thinks you’re great and would be honored if you gave him a chance.”
“Who is it?” Kurt asked, shakily.
Before he could register what was happening, Sam intertwined his fingers with Kurt’s, squeezing lightly. “It’s me,” Sam murmured, looking up at Kurt through his eyelashes.
Well, shit. Kurt froze, his eyes tracing Sam’s features, looking for any indication that this was a cruel joke or something of that nature. Then again, this was Sam and there is no way he’d joke about this. “Really?” Kurt squeaked. “But you’re not...”
“Gay?” Sam supplied. “No, I’m not. I just, I don’t really know? But what I do know is how I feel about you, Kurt, and I super like you more than a friend. When you asked me to find you a boyfriend, I was happy because, like, it meant you wanted to date but I didn’t know if you were just joking around or whatever, so I didn’t say anything about how I felt. I know you probably think I’m dumb to try to fix you up when I like you, but I just want to make you happy. You know I’d do anything for you.”
Kurt was speechless. He felt like he was being transported back a year when he thought Sam was gay and the two of them could be so, so happy together. All of these feelings, whatever this was, between the two of them never really died. But, was Kurt ready to date? He had only been single for twenty-three, almost twenty-four, days and that wasn’t really enough time to embark on another emotional relationship roller coaster. But, here he was, standing on a side road with Sam freakin' Evans who was holding his hand and professing this huge crush for him, with Christmas lights shining and fluffy white snowflakes dancing around them. Kurt’s previous thoughts were indeed correct -- this was romantic as hell.
Slowly, he locked eyes with Sam and broke out into a smile. “Sam, you are so ridiculously sweet. I’m just shocked that you feel this way, especially when you gave no previous indication whatsoever.”
“You were kind of in a relationship for a while,” Sam offered, taking another drag of his hot chocolate.
Well, that's true. “I’m flattered. Supremely flattered, even. You’re very sneaky, Sam, tricking me onto a date like this. I admire your surreptitious nature.”
“Um, thank you?” Sam laughed. “So, uh, what does this mean?” He bit his lip and waited, patiently, before Kurt spoke.
“It means that I am more than willing to try out the dating thing with you and see where it goes.”
Sam broke out into an ear-splitting grin. “Really? Oh, wow, sweet. Can I, like, kiss you now?”
Kurt rolled his eyes, beaming. “If you must.”
Closing his eyes, Kurt felt electricity radiate down his spine as Sam’s lips made contact with his. Sam tasted like hot chocolate and lip chap -- an odd but comforting taste and one that was just so Sam. Sam gripped Kurt’s fingers tighter as he pressed firmer against his mouth, closing as much space between the two of them as possible.
Sam pulled back, his cheeks flushed. “Wow, okay,” he huffed, laughing, “that was pretty awesome. Shall I be a good gentleman and walk you to your doorstep?”
“It’s yours too, dummy. But yes, you may,” Kurt started to move forward, his hand still firmly in Sam’s.
When they reached the house, the boys made their way inside and discarded their coffee cups. They peeled off their winter gear and headed upstairs. Sam veered towards his room, but was stopped when Kurt hauled him backwards into Kurt’s room. Shutting the door, Kurt placed his palms over Sam’s collarbones, curling his fingers around the nape of Sam's neck.
“I just wanted to say thank you for the evening. I had a really, really fun time with you and everything was practically perfect. So just, thank you.”
Sam hummed. “You’re absolutely welcome. I’m really glad you turned down Aaron and D.J. and whoever else I tried to set you up with.”
Kurt shuddered, wrapping his arms loosely around Sam’s shoulders. “I think I made the right choice.”
He crashed their mouths together, sucking and pulling at Sam’s bottom lip. Stunned by Kurt’s forcefulness, Sam brought him closer against his chest, his hands firmly gripping Kurt’s waist. Kurt moaned into Sam’s mouth as the other boy dragged his palms across his back, resting them just above the swell of his ass.
Kurt led them to his bed and fell onto the soft duvet below when his knees hit the bed frame. He ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, relishing how smooth and fine it felt against his fingertips. He moved along Sam’s jaw, sucking at the tender skin beneath his ear. Kurt could feel the length of Sam’s erection dig into his hip bone, causing him to smile against Sam’s skin. Yeah, he totally made the right choice.
Beep Beep.
Sam drew back and looked at his wrist, his digital watch chirping incessantly.
“What is it?” Kurt asked, his voice thick and rough.
Sam, whose cheeks were red (most definitely not from the cold, this time), grinned down at his arm. “It’s midnight. It’s Christmas Eve.” He chased Kurt’s mouth, sliding his smooth lips against his. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, humming with delight. “I didn’t fail you as a friend.”
Kurt laughed, hugging his arms tighter around Sam’s neck. “Good, because I was completely prepared to never speak to you ever again and find someone else to fill the void in my life.” He placed a chaste kiss on Sam’s cheek. “Merry Christmas to you too, Sam.”