Title: The Window [Part 3]

Author: simonspoopoo (seri22)

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I don't own glee… sad face.

Warning: Future!fic, language, angst

Summary: There are times when you just have to take what you can get.

A/N: I am SOOOO sorry for taking forever to post this story! I recently bought Sims 3 (yeah, lame excuse) and that game is SO addictive it should be illegal. My epic beta, HanJob, took it away from me though so I could focus on writing. The problem was that I started writing another fiction instead.

So, yeah, I'm starting a Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU with Kurt and Sam in it. I'm super excited about it, but it's going to take time away from this story, so please be patient!

Thanks to everyone that has story alerted, author alerted, favorite-ed, and reviewed. It means the world to me to know that people actually like this story.

Reviews = love! Even if it's critical, I'd love to hear what all of you think. =)

God gave us memories so that we might have roses in December.

It was his mother's favourite line.

It's a little ironic, Kurt muses; to favour something which brings attention to God. He still doesn't believe in religion, and from what the brunette remembers about his mother, neither did she.

It didn't matter though, because she would remind him that it was important to remember. She would tell him that when you love something, the face of it will live forever, so long as you close your eyes and see it.

And he does see it; her face, even when he opens his eyes to an empty porch swing in front of his family's house, barely after sunrise. The air around him breathes heavily of a long dead spring, compliments of the bouquet of forget-me-nots laying on the porch swing.

They were not her favourites, but he thinks they should have been, and she would laugh every time he told her so. So he brings them here- because, really, the day has just started and Kurt refuses to be sad, especially when he thinks of her.

Instead, he whispers into the breeze, willing it to carry his words to ears that used to look a lot like his own.

"I thought I heard your car pull up." The brunette turns to smile at his father, who hands him a mug of something warm.

Coffee.

"You miss her." Kurt doesn't have to answer, because it wasn't a question. Instead, the brunette watches as his dad takes a seat on the porch swing, patting the space beside him for Kurt.

They're quiet for a little while, listening as the world slowly wakes.

"You know what the easiest thing for me to remember about her was, kiddo?" he doesn't wait for Kurt to answer. "Everyday after work, I'd pull up the drive and see you guys sitting here, waiting for me. Sometimes, when I was real lucky, you guys wouldn't notice me, and I'd get to listen to her teaching you to read."

It was a long time ago, but Kurt remembers the face of that day, too, chuckling lightly as the memory takes shape in mind. "I'd make a face every time I couldn't sound out a word correctly, thinking I looked like a dragon, or a gorilla, or something."

Burt nods, laughing into his mug. "And she'd tickle your stomach when you did, said that you should try to smile when you make a mistake." A pause before the older man takes a sip out of his steaming cup. "Do you understand what she meant now?"

It's Kurt's turn to nod. He does understand, even if he finds it hard to smile after the mistakes he's been making as of late. Something coils at the pit of his stomach when he brands the word 'mistake' over the images of blonde hair running through his mind.

"I'll never forget that day you finished the book." says Burt. "You ran up to me with the biggest smile I'd ever saw on something so tiny. Do you remember that day?"Of course he remembers. The ending to that book is perhaps one of the few that Kurt has ever seen.

The brunette absently runs his fingers over the candle shaped carvings of the wooden armrest, smiling as he does so. "I asked if the boy in the story ever grows up, or if Wendy ever gets to see Peter again."

He remembers his mother smoothing the hair out of his face, cupping his cheek with her other hand. He remembers as she smiles down at him, and says that one day Wendy does get to see Peter again, so long as she keeps her window open.

Kurt hands his full mug to his dad and dusts himself off. He says that he has to head to work before kissing Burt on the cheek, promising to see him at on family dinner night.

OoOoO

Kurt hates children. Hates children.

He thinks they're simply failed abortions that eat. Which is why he knows it's odd when he agreed to give up his Friday afternoon before family dinner to help Tina out at her family's daycare. She called him a few days ago and complained that since Mercedes went off traveling with her aunt at the beginning of the summer, she doesn't get to see him anymore. She said that she's worried that no one sees Kurt anymore.

Sam sees me.

He doesn't tell her, though. Instead he grits out an "I'll be there".

There is something pulling at the hem of his McQueen sweater, which brings him back to the present. He's ready to snap at the monster that's ruining his sweater when he looks down at the little girl. She can't be much older than seven, with dirty blonde hair tied neatly into a ponytail and brilliant green eyes look up at him expectantly, defiant, as if refusing to apologize for being so bright.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" Her tiny voice is confident, bold, as if she already knows the answer. The brunette moves away from the sink and the dishes he had been washing to kneel down to her height.

"Quite pretty actually, yes." It isn't untrue, so saying it doesn't bother Kurt. This little girl is going to grow up to be a very fine woman, one that will give her parents much grief when they have to worry about giving her The Talk.

"So you'll marry me then." It isn't a question, and the brunette is pretty sure he should be hating on Tina for putting him in this uncomfortable situation. The question is annoying and slightly disturbing. Pre-pubescent girls shouldn't be thinking about clinging to another person when they have their whole lives to be depressed over it. Still, she's a little endearing.

Wiping his hands on the towel by the sink, he smiles down at her. "I'm flattered. Really, I am. But I'm batting for the other team." The corners of her mouth fall a little, and panic spikes Kurt's stomach. "Please don't cry." She doesn't look like she's about to, but he feels the need to say it. Dealing with a wailing seven year old is not something the brunette had planned on.

The frown only seems to deepen. "It's ok. I'm not very pretty when I cry, anyway."

The brunette laughs fondly at her. Maybe children aren't as horrible as he had previously thought. "I'm sure you're pretty all the time."

"No, I'm really not. Neither are my brothers." Her face seems to light up with excitement, as if she's realized something. "Hey! You should marry my bigger brother!" She looks thoughtful for a moment before walking off. He watches her go, thinking he'll never understand the little creatures.

Luckily for Kurt, Tina's family daycare ends about an hour before he's supposed to be at his family's house. When the parents start to arrive to pick up their kids, Tina can't find her phone. She figures it has to be somewhere around the house, so she doesn't worry about it too much.

The little girl, from earlier, shows up out of nowhere, Tina's phone in her hand, holding it out for her to take. "Here you go Tina!"

The Goth girl takes the phone, pinching the blonde's cheeks as she does so. "Thanks Stacy. You mom is just right outside, so why don't you get your shoes on. Don't want to keep her waiting."

The blonde - Stacy, it would appear - nods and quickly slips into her shoes. It isn't until she's running down the drive way does Kurt finds her a little familiar. Not being able to place her, he brushes it off and turns to his friend.

"Isn't she just adorable?" asks Tina. "I think she has a little crush on you, though. She asked what your name was. When did you become such a chick magnet?" she asks, winking playfully at the brunette.

The brunette rolls his eyes. "Please. You women wish."

She reaches over, touching him lightly on the arm. "Call me sometime and we'll grab a soda. I miss you"

She does. She really does miss him; Kurt can see it all over her face. He nods briskly at her before slipping out.

OoOoO

When Kurt stumbles back into his apartment after dinner, it's almost surprising to find it empty.

He should be use to it all by now; the loud clicks of his heels against the floor, the chill that follows him as he pads into his too-large bedroom. The brunette settles on the foot of his bed, glancing at the reflection from the window in front of him.

He's pale, more than he used to be. What he used to consider soft and undamaged skin now looks a lot like someone who just doesn't get enough sun. Pasty. Untouched. Undesirable.

Fingers sprawl out against crisp sheets, unwillingly noticing their coolness. He crawls onto the bed until his head is pressed between two pillows and caresses the vacant space beside him. His fingers start to curl around the fabric of the empty pillow, realizing they have witnessed more tears and broken sobs than any person in his life. Kurt's mind slowly slips into another dangerous fantasy, one where a soft voice breathes "I love you"s against his ear, where something horrible doesn't have to happen so he can slow dance with the guy he likes at his prom, where his head is resting against a lightly tanned chest as his hands get lost in unnaturally blonde hair and he doesn't feel like it's all just a fantasy.

"I wish you were closer." he whispers to himself.

OoOoO

Sam doesn't come by as often as he normally does. Between working to help out with the bills, babysitting, and coffee with Santana, the blonde finds it difficult to find any time to spend with Kurt. What's different now, though, is that when he does get the chance to see Kurt, he stays longer than he used to.

Long after they've finished, long after Kurt crawls out of the covers and moves into the living room with a book in hand, Sam stays curled under the sheets, eyes closed, feigning sleep as he relishes in the scent of old coffee and something floral.

Sometimes, Kurt stays beside him and writes. Those are the times that Sam regrets what they do more than ever, because it's during those times that Sam realizes he doesn't know what Kurt is writing, or why he's writing about it.

Sam knows the spots at the bend of Kurt's knees that makes him bite his lip, and the space at the nape of his neck that he can brush with his lips that make Kurt gasp. He has memorized his body like the points of a constellation and it's easy for him to connect the stars. But he doesn't know the small things, things that would be so easy to understand if he just asked. Things like why he doesn't finish his coffee, or why he writes in novels, or the kind of music he listens to when he feels like he's on top of the world.

What's your favourite colour?

They're irrelevant and changeable over time, but right now, it seems like they're the most important things in the universe.

His senses focus on the sound of pen scratching pages to let him to know that Kurt's attention isn't on him. He cracks his eyes open just enough to let them focus on the brunette.

Kurt is sad.

It isn't quite despair, but it is folded more times than what could be considered simple disappointment and Sam wants to know why. He wants to understand, to help, to make it better.

But he doesn't. He wants to, but he doesn't. He closes his eyes instead, inching as close to the other boy as he lets himself, letting the smell of old coffee and something floral lull him to sleep.

OoOoO

Maybe it's red.

Sam knows he's openly staring, but it doesn't seem as though anyone has noticed, too distracted by the blaring music and the grasp of alcohol. It's the 4th of July, and Sam and Puckerman were spending it with the Hummel-Hudson family, at least the day anyway. As soon as the sun went down, Puck insisted that they head to a nearby party in the woods. Carol had nearly disapproved if not for Finn stating that they would bring Kurt to insure that nothing too crazy happened. It was unfair to the brunette, they all knew, but no one, not even Kurt, protested.

And so, here they were, surrounded drunken teenagers and cheap beer, with Sam staring at the profile of Kurt's bright red trench coat. The blonde tears his eyes away from the other boy, looking over at Puck and Finn. The two of them are half past tipsy, and from the bottles clutched in their hands, it's clear they aren't stopping anytime soon.

His eyes find themselves trailing back towards the tall, lean figure. The brunette is standing with his arms wrapped securely around himself, leaning awkwardly against a tree well away form the rest of the group before their eyes meet. Despite the warm weather, Kurt looks cold, uncomfortable, and it has nothing to do with how warm it is. Biting the inside of his cheek, the blonde takes a step towards the other boy when a hand is pressed against his chest and he looks at the girl attached to the limb. Dark curls outline the sloppy smile painted on her face and she looks up at him.

"Mm'Tara" She slurs out. He wants to roll his eyes, but before he has a chance, she's pressing a glass into his hand. His eyes dart back to Kurt, almost wishing they hadn't.

Kurt's eyes are still plastered on him, but only for another moment as someone pulls at the sleeve of his coat. It's a woman, one that is wearing a bright smile and a coat that looks very similar to his. She's saying something, gesturing animatedly, but they're too far for Sam to understand any of it.

The girl in front of him - Tara, was it? - is saying speaking again, has been for a while, but Sam isn't paying her any attention. His total focus is on the hand that is still on Kurt's sleeve, slowly moving up and down in deliberate strokes. They're laughing. Laughing, as the woman takes the hem of her coat and twirls around like it's a dress.

How can anyone wear a coat in this fucking heat? It's bitter and immature and Sam has no right to think those thoughts but he doesn't care because in ten minutes that stupid girl has Kurt looking like he's having the time of his life.

I can't even make him smile. The blonde thinks, lowering his eyes to the glass in his hands. Not like he means it, at least.

Slowly, he brings the glass to his lips and tosses it back, accepting the burning in his throat like he deserves it.

Sam tries to listen to the Tara girl, who is still talking, nodding when it seems appropriate. It becomes impossible when the woman talking to Kurt sets down her bottle and takes the brunette's hand. She drags him towards the makeshift alcohol table, swaying their joint hands like pendulum as it counts the beats in Sam's ears.

Kurt is giggling, and Sam can't help but feel the familiar throb of jealousy as I kicks against his stomach. It's difficult not to, as this stranger gets to talk to Kurt, make him laugh, hold his hand like it's the most natural thing in the world and do it like she has the right to, knowing that no one is going to throw a slushy in her face or toss her into dumpsters because she acted on her desires.

Suddenly, the moon seems too bright, the music not loud enough, and the world just too clear. "Let's get another drink." he says, holding the glass in front of Tara and treads towards the alcohol table, not really caring that he cut her off from whatever she was saying.

They approach the table, and Kurt seems totally oblivious to his presence. The woman wraps an arm around Kurt's and he leans in annoyingly close, whispering something in her ear. She belts out a laugh before she hands him a shot.

"You know, you seem really epic," The woman says to Kurt, "the kinda guy that gets a kick outta making people feel good." She looks pensive for a second before a wicked grin glides across her face. "If only we were both lesbians, you'd probably be great at eating kitty."

They're both laughing, and Sam isn't sure if he wants to punch her in the face or get lost in the sound of a Kurt that isn't sad for a moment. "Let's drink to that!" says the brunette before they raise their glasses. They start walking away a moment later, and Sam wants to follow them, but a shot is being pressed into his hand. He looks down at the glass in his hand, then back to Kurt before tossing it back.

"More?" asks Tara.

He nods at Tara, eyes never leaving the profile of the red trench coat.

OoOoO

He's lost count of the shots he's had, but he knows how many times Kurt has laughed tonight, so he knows that he's well trashed. Something is vibrating in his hand and he looks down. Santana's messaging him.

'Crocodile? What are you talking about, Trouty Mouth?' He puzzles at her message before looking through his outbox, giggling at what he finds.

'sum1 hsa 2 hleppo ihm a4 the kckracodile eats hm.' That was the message he sent to Santana.

There's an annoying buzzing just to the right of him as Sam gives up on the message he was typing to the raven hair girl before calling her.

"Come get us." is all he says before hanging up. Something shifts on Sam's lap and he looks down. Tara is fast asleep on his lap, hair completely covering her face. It's totally irrational, but in his drunken state, it's easy for the blonde to fear that she might choke on her hair and die, maybe even burst into flames. He reaches down and pushes her curls out of her face, patting her head lightly as he does.

He looks up, and for a full second, Kurt meets his gaze again. The brunette's eyes seem heavy as they bear down on him, uncomfortable like they were at the beginning of the night and Sam hates it. Just like that, it's over, and the brunette's attention is on the woman beside him again.

Kurt doesn't look at him for the rest of the night. Not even when Santana pulls up in her little silver car, yelling at them to get in. The buzzing to Sam's right is back again as he wakes Tara up, but he doesn't notice it because the woman in front of Kurt is grasping the brunette's face hard and pulls him into a closed mouth kiss. Kurt giggles into it, pushing her away and makes gagging noises, but Sam doesn't hear them either. His face is burning, fists clenched tightly at his sides and the buzzing seems to get louder as he's ready to take a step forward and-

SLAM!

The ground is getting closer before it hits him hard in the face. The right side of his mouth is suddenly throbbing and he can hear laughing in the background. Someone - Finn- is pulling him to his feet. His hands move instinctively to his cheek.

"Sorry dude," says a very drunk Puck, "There was like, a huge ass bee at your face. I didn't want you to get stung and shit."

Sam doesn't say anything, instead climbs into the front seat of Santana's car before completely passing out.

OoOoO