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the days of dress-up are gone

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The joys of public school life did not end with slushies. Or questioning of one's sexuality (again. This time in the other direction). Or one's almost-girlfriend dumping one - for reasons unknown, something about 'sorting herself out', whatever that meant, but had probably a lot more to do with her loser of an ex.

The joys of public school life did not end with a failed English test, or losing the Quarterback position because of a dislocated shoulder.

No, no, it was not just that; Sam could have dealt with all of the above. But the fact that he had to babysit his little sister on her Halloween escapades; that did go a little far.

He'd never been assigned this particular duty before, because up until this point, he had spent Halloween sitting on his butt, watching all of the Scream movies in order (or the Saw movies, or, if they were feeling particularly pretentious, a few Hitchcocks). Until this point, he had spent Halloween with his boys at boarding school, curled around each other in common rooms on top of couches and armchairs, and also, celebrating with the occasional blowjob, if one got lucky.

Sadly, Nadine was nine years old, so telling her about his woes was not an option. Especially the woes about the lack of blowjobs. He could tell her how annoying she was to dare to exist, but all she would do in response was to stick out her tongue and say, "'m gonna tell mom!", and, Sam really didn't want her to tell mom. Mom had been stressed out enough as it was. It was not like she was skipping Nadine's Halloween trick-or-treating because she was out partying it up; it was, as always, work.

They thought it would be easier, financially, not having to pay Sam's tuition and boarding school fees, but that, it turned out, was really just the tip of the iceberg.

None of these were the worst things, though. The really worst thing was that Sam, well... Sam did not have any friends. There had been plans to acquire some - he had started to make friends, on the football team. There were some nice guys there. But then the shoulder had happened. And he had joined Glee club, and he'd just been about to make some friends there, but then the Quinn thing had happened and Sam hadn't known people who dated were off limits for friendships, but apparently, that's how it was in public high school.

And then Quinn had broken up with him because of Puck and the baby and a lot of other things, probably, none of which had made sense at the time, except that she wanted to be alone - basically, what she'd said when she'd first given him the boot. Sam didn't really understand girls. He just thought they were pretty and, in some cases, attractive, and mostly, they raised his chances for blowjobs exponentially. He'd tried doing it himself, but he just wasn't so flexible.

Anyhow, Sam, on Halloween weekend, suddenly found himself friend-less and alone and that... that was not a nice feeling. He was quite surprised how lonely it felt, to spent Saturday watching Disney movies with Nadine, because his mom had forbidden him under the penalty of death to show her any horror flicks, and then carving a few pumpkins which they put out in front of the house. At least, he figured, they had candy. He would have to do sit-ups and pull-ups and weight lifting for hours all of next week, but right now, the candy was great.

"Sam," Nadine said, sighing, and put her little blonde head on his lap later, when he read her a goodnight story even though she was far too old for that kind of thing. "Sam, you look so sad."

Sam sighed too, and touched the curls, half-smiling down at her. "Don't worry," he said. "I can just tell people I'm a Sad Sam tomorrow. You can be the happy witch. We'll be a great team."

"Elphaba is a happy witch at the end of the story, anyway. And then we'll come home and eat all the candy we got." Nadine nodded, satisfied. "Can I ask Mandy and Derrek to come home with me, after?"

"Did you ask mom?"

"Yes," Nadine said. "She said yes."

"Then yes, I guess," Sam said. Even Nadine had friends. He was pathetic.

"Yay!" Nadina cheered, not noticing at all, and picked her head off his lap to pump her tiny fist into the air.


- - - - -


Sam fought with himself all of five minutes. When morning turned into noon turned into early afternoon, evening sneaking up on him with the dread of facing three little kids and their Halloween trick-or-treating all by himself, he decided that he had to take action.

It was very sad, but when he put together a list of people to call and beg to come over, it basically contained his fellow Glee members, two football guys he was sure would tell him to fuck off, that nice girl from his English class who'd fixed his spelling on his homework that one time, and Isaac, who lived a two-hour drive away. Maybe he wouldn't mind the drive for his former boarding school buddy. After all, they had left boarding school at the same time. There had to be a bond there, right?

There wasn't, it turned out. Of the rest of his list, he called Quinn first. Just because she'd broken up with him didn't mean they couldn't be friends, right?

It turned out they couldn't.

"I'm really sorry, Sam," she said, voice sad, but firm. "But I didn't break up with you because I don't fancy you anymore - I did because I can't use the distraction. Spending time together is not a good idea."

He called Finn, who mumbled a few words Sam didn't quite catch and then said, "I'm busy, dude, sorry," and hung up. When he called Rachel, she chirped, "Oh, I'm so sorry, but we're out all day for theater and dinner and - uh, hotel, possibly, bye, see you!" Which explained that.

He almost called Santana, because the thought of blowjobs made him reconsider how little he liked her. He didn't, in the end, because he'd never gotten blowjobs from someone he actively disliked before, and he didn't want to start now. Besides, possibly, she'd want sex and then leave again, and that wasn't quite the point, was it.

He liked Mike and Tina, and especially Tina seemed like the type to enjoy a really good Halloween celebration. But when he called, they were yelling at each other, and then at him, so he scrambled for the disconnect button. Apparently, Tina hated Halloween. And Mike loved it? He honestly couldn't have told from the few seconds he'd heard them going at it at full volume.

The last duo on his list was Kurt and Mercedes. Sam glanced at Kurt's name apprehensively and swallowed. He liked Kurt fine. He really did, he seemed like a fun guy and he had an amazing voice on him; but they were so completely and utterly different that Sam had the feeling Kurt might be more a girl than a guy or maybe, like, from another planet completely.

But if it was a toss-up between spending Halloween with Nadine and her two baby friends, and spending Halloween with Nadine, her two baby friends, and Kurt by his side to keep him sane, he knew which option he would choose. Sam rubbed his nose and hit dial.

Kurt sounded extremely bored when he picked up.

"Hi? Kurt? This is Sam," Sam said.

"I know," Kurt replied, the 'how are you so moronic?' subtly implied.


"I have your number saved on my phone. You put it on the Glee contact sheet, remember?"

"Oh. Right." Because that was how he had Kurt's number, too. Whoops. "I was wondering. Are you busy?"

"Right now? This very second?" If at all possible, Kurt's voice climbed another notch up the boredom ladder. "No. I am, in actuality, not busy at all."

"Why not?" Sam asked suspiciously.

"Mercedes has left me to suffer through the lengthy weekend by myself while she's off celebrating the occasion with her relatives in Florida. I hate her. I would die to get to go to Florida right now. But I shan't be allowed; my dad's still not well enough and in any case, someone needs to ward off the evil tonight."

Sam couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped him. "Any chance I can persuade you to do that from the comfort of my home?" Suddenly, the question didn't feel awkward at all.

Kurt took his time replying. When he did, there was a note of surprise in his voice. "You're being serious."

"I am. My mom's working tonight, so I have to take my little sister and her friends trick-or-treating. And then they're coming back to our place, and I desperately need reinforcements, and. Well. There's no one else."

"All right," Kurt said.


"All right. I'll come. I even have a costume. When should I be over in time to accompany you on this tedious journey?" There was definitely a smile in Kurt's voice now.

Sam cleared his throat. "Six should be great. Uh. Your costume - it's - it's age-appropriate, right?"

"What, you mean, will I be wearing a Victorian maid outfit, complete with short skirt and feather duster?"

Sam winced. "No. No, I meant. I guess I just - I'm sorry. I didn't think. Sorry."

Kurt sighed. "Don't worry your pretty blond-bleached head about it. It's perfectly family friendly. I'll see you at six, Sam."

There was the dial-tone in his ear. Sam stared at his phone. Then he went to find Nadine and tell her about the change of plans. And figure out a costume for himself; he'd figured he wouldn't need to dress up, but if Kurt did, well. It wouldn't do to embarrass Kurt.


- - - - -


Nadine made quite a convincing little witch, with her scrappy dress, the big, black pointy hat and the green color on her skin (a shout-out to Wicked which Kurt immediately got, and started humming 'Popular' under his breath). Sam had given up trying to pull together something original and inventive and just grabbed the Spock-ears from his shelf to glue them on. He was wearing what could easily pass as a Enterprise command uniform. It wasn't an original Star Trek one, but he doubted anyone beside himself would notice or care.

Kurt, though. Kurt was wearing a ridiculously hot suit, probably a filthily expensive designer piece, too. The tie he'd chosen was a polka-dot one and playful, but that was the only part about him that was. He looked slim-hipped and elegant, like he'd just stepped out of the glossy spread of a magazine. His hair was soft, darkened to almost black and styled back with slick, his face covered with a hint of make-up.

"What," Sam asked, and had to clear his throat to get rid of the sudden tightness in it. Sudden being a relative term. It had been there since Kurt had appeared on his doorstep, about three and a half minutes ago. "Who are you?"

Kurt grinned, almost like he was tempted for a second to say something else, but then he just let it slip into a genuine, bright smile. "Arthur. Inception Arthur."

Sam's mouth clicked close with a snap. "Oh," he said. And should have known. He hadn't had a hard-on for a guy like he'd had for Inception Arthur, ever. Kurt was... getting dangerously close to hard-on territory. "Oh - okay. Maybe we should get going. Nadine?"

"Coming!" she yelled, and showed up in the hallway, bustling close a second later. She was holding a huge bag for the sweets. She'd said hello to Kurt before already, and happy that he'd called her Elphaba, had been almost creepily polite and well-behaved.

"That's all set, then," Sam said. "Ah - let's go?"

Kurt gave him a weird little look, but didn't say anything, nodded and headed out along with them. For a moment, Sam had the mental image of Kurt reaching out to take his hand - but it passed, and, when it did, he felt strangely disappointed.


- - - - -


At exactly fifteen past nine, with Nadine and her friends whooping around in her room behind closed doors, and Bram Stoker's Dracula playing on the TV before the couch, Sam found himself lying on top of Kurt, kept in place by his legs, with his tongue in Kurt's mouth, kissing the living daylights out of each other.

He knew the exact time because the old grandfather clock in the living room hit the quarter hour regularly, and today was no different from any other day.

They had strolled down the streets after the kids, making fun of costume choices and admiring inspired and well-executioned ideas. They had snuck candy out of Nadine's bag to eat some on the way, and chased after the kids when it finally turned completely dark, attempting, not quite unsuccessfully, to scare them into going home. They had made it home, and the kids had vanished to Nadine's room to count candy and play more in their roles while Sam made sure to put the pizza in the oven and entertain Kurt well-enough.

As it had turned out, Kurt was fabulous company. He knew all the best pop culture references, even the most idiotic ones that Sam himself thought were lame, and he laughed at Sam's jokes, even the ones that weren't all that funny. Most of the time, Kurt made them funny by adding a cutting remark or two to the mix.

Kurt had no idea about comics or computer games, but he was willing to let himself be educated - which was why, while the pizza got ready, Sam pulled him into his room and showed him his comic book collection, all the Batman issues and X-Men and his favorites, the Constantine ones. Kurt had treated them carefully, like they would turn to dust under his fingertips, and leafed through a few, asking questions and commenting on the art styles.

They'd eaten four pizzas amongst the five of them.

And then they'd pulled out the movie and about half an hour in, their hands had brushed and Sam had leaned over, just slightly, catching Kurt's eyes, and Kurt hadn't looked away, completely unafraid, almost quirking up a corner of his mouth, like he was amused - and Sam didn't find any of this amusing, thank you very much.

Kurt was, after all, wearing a Roberto Cavalli suit, dressed up as Inception-Arthur. Nothing at all about this was in any way amusing.

Kurt tasted of pizza and strawberry juice. The meal had been eaten under the assumption that it was human intestines on pizza dough and blooood. Sam put his fingers against his jaw lightly and sucked on his tongue, pushing his hips forward to create more friction against Kurt's. He could feel how hard Kurt was in his pants, and he was too, himself, desperate to rub up against more, better things, or best yet, touch, fingers and mouths and hot, sweaty skin.

"We should," Kurt mouthed against his lips when Sam pulled back. Kurt's hand was like an iron grip on Sam's neck, keeping him in place. Their noses were almost touching. "Move this somewhere else."

Sam ground down into him, eliciting a delightful little moan. He breathed out. "Yeah. Yes. My room." It was a good idea, in theory. Kurt's mouth was wet and puffy and he dove right back in after all was said, biting Kurt's lower lip with his teeth, tugging at it hungrily.

The clock chimed half past. They were rocking against each other steadily now, an easy rhythm, with Sam's tongue pushing into Kurt's mouth and their legs entangled, with Kurt keening now and then and Sam letting out embarrassing sounds that were almost gasps, if one wanted to get specific about it.

Kurt was the one to pull away first this time. "We need to move," he panted. "Your sister could come back here. Or your parents."

"No parents," Sam promised. "Mom's got the evening shift."

"Sam," Kurt protested, when Sam slid his hand away from Kurt's face where he'd been caressing it for the past eternity and down to his pants, covering his erection. He hissed when Sam squeezed. "Sam, move."

"All right, all right," Sam grumbled.

They got off the couch. Slowly. Wandering hands and all, still kissing. Sam wasn't sure why he was so scared that if they'd stop, all of this would stop. It wasn't like he had a lot of experience with this, but he'd heard what boys said, boys who had girlfriends, that once you gave them time to think, they started to talk, and Sam did not want to talk right, oh no, no talking, no Sir. Or, well, talking was fine, as long as it consisted of yeah and Sam and oh my god, do that again.

Sam managed to push Kurt into a wall not once, not twice, but three times, before Kurt retaliated and fought for the upper hand, pushing Sam into a door. It was a good thing it was the door that led to Sam's room. They stumbled inside, and before Sam could think about it, he was pulling the shirt over his head, getting rid of the ridiculous ears. Kurt, he noticed, wasn't following swift. He was tugging at the hem of his suit jacket, but wasn't pulling it off and - no.

Sam lost his pants as well, ten seconds, and then he was pulling Kurt back in, working open his buttons, slipping the jacket off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

"That is -"

"- a designer piece, I know, I know, later," Sam said. "Take it off."

And, fortunately, beside the protest about the preciousness of designer clothes, Kurt seemed to have no sudden urges to think, or talk, either. Sam appreciated that, so so much. Especially when Sam hit the bed with the backs of his knees, sitting down, and Kurt, shed of his pants, climbed on top of him, legs spread, all smooth skin and planes upon planes of boy body, for Sam to touch and kiss and lick.

They kissed again, too, Kurt taking the lead this time, moving his hips in circles atop of Sam's while he licked into Sam's mouth, sucked and let their tongues intertwine. Sam let him, too busy exploring Kurt's back, the little bony parts of his spine, how utterly slim and gorgeous his waist was, and his hips, the tiny hairs on his thighs, and the trail leading into his underwear, vanishing under the waistband. His cock was hard and wetting the front of the material. Sam touched it, unselfconscious and loving the moaning noise Kurt made at first contact.

There was no protest. There was even less protest when Sam, tired of touching through material, slipped his hand underneath Kurt's waistband and took him into his hand, hot and firm, jerking him until Kurt was panting so hard, his heart hammering in his chest. He'd stopped kissing, was just mouthing at Sam's jaw now, and then his neck, biting and nuzzling, pushing himself into Sam's hand over and over and over, until he came, wet-hot, all over Sam's fingers. It wasn't new, not completely, but it wasn't old either; it was, instead, utterly, ridiculously awesome and to be repeated ad nauseum.

Sam looked up and watched as Kurt fought to catch his breath, eyes screwed shut, body as tight as a spring, and then, once he'd ridden it out, loose and flexible and utterly fucked out.

"You haven't come," Kurt murmured after a moment. His forehead was resting on Sam's shoulder, almost like he'd slip and fall forward if he didn't have anything to lean against. His voice was rough and deep, a lot deeper than usually when he spoke. It sent electricity down his spine and straight to Sam's cock.

"I can get myself off," Sam offered, even though it wouldn't be his favorite option of all the possible options at this point. "If you don't -"

"No," Kurt interrupted. The smile was back; the little, amused one, just a lift of his mouth's corner. It looked a lot more mischievious now, with his mouth cherry-red and spit-slick. His eyes were still hooded but regaining clarity with each passing second. "No, I think this will be good."

And then he was scooting backwards, licking over his palm, lapping at it like a kitten, and taking Sam into his hand. Sam dropped backwards onto his bed, closing his eyes as the sensations washed over him, Kurt's hand, the image of his tongue sneaking out; imagined what it would be like to have Kurt's mouth, that heat and tightness surrounding him, sucking at him. It didn't take him long to come, just a few strokes, mental pictures sharply in focus as he shuddered through his orgasm.

Kurt leaned forwards once Sam was done. He was still sitting on Sam's thighs, but his hands bracketed Sam's head now, their foreheads only inches apart. Sam tensed his stomach muscles and reached up with his whole body, pulling him into a kiss. It was slower than before, less tongue, pecks of just lips on lips, and soft touches, Sam putting his lips to the corners of Kurt's mouth, his chin, the bridge of his nose.

After dozens of kisses, Kurt finally let himself rest on top of Sam's body, despite the wet spots and their come between them, just laid down and connected their naked skin in spades. "Crushing you?" he asked, like it was a vital common courtesy to make sure Sam could breathe.

"Nah," Sam replied, because he wasn't bothered, and wouldn't have been even if he'd had to hold his breath for hours. Kurt was pretty light, actually. Sam enjoyed the heavy warmth on his chest, his legs. He breathed it in, the scent, the sensation of Kurt's hair against his cheek.

Kurt moved a few minutes later, but just to flop over and onto his back, stretching out next to Sam. "Hm," he said.

"Yeah," Sam snorted. His ceiling was as unspectacular as it always was, but somehow, it seemed brighter right now. Friendlier. Happier. "That was... unexpected."

Kurt blinked. A moment of stunned silence passed, then he said, "Unexpected?"

Sam blinked as well, turning halfway to the side to catch the expression on Kurt's face. It was mostly surprise. "You don't think it was?"

"I... had thought the sex was the point of this whole thing?" Kurt asked, flapping his hands. When he saw Sam's confused look he added, "Quinn told me about the whole Boarding School Experience. She figured you might call me."

"She did?" Sam blinked again. There was a sudden feeling of... well. Disappointment. And anger. And embarrassment. It was a lot of emotion, for a single moment. He wasn't quite sure how to deal with that. He ignored it and asked, because he couldn't not ask, "So you just came for, like. The sex?" Because huh. Then, he might as well have called Santana.

"No," Kurt said gently. His hand snuck over and took Sam's, squeezing. "I thought that's what you wanted me to come over here for. And I was all for that. But I also like you. A lot. I came for the trick-or-treating, too, didn't I?"

And so he had, Sam realized. The emotions cleared up, leaving room for mostly relief. And one recurring wave of post-orgasmic glow. "I just wanted someone to spend Halloween with," he admitted. Then he grinned. "But the sex was a great bonus, though. I'm not complaining."

Kurt laughed, a half-giggle that made Sam want to kiss him silly. "No," he said. "I wouldn't think you are."

They were still holding hands. Sam found he didn't mind at all.


- - - - -
The End.