Note: OK. So this has been a long time in the making and it still isn't complete, but I'm starting to put it up because I can't take it anymore. This was written for the Kummer Summer Exchange for (I think) Chasing Aspirations, and based on this prompt:

You know what your problem is? Girls... (Kurt gives Sam some advice when he confides in Kurt about his problems with Quinn (post-Superbowl Episode) What he doesn't realise is Sam takes some of his advice quite literally- preferably with confused!Sam and oblivious!Kurt... and Hevans at the end of course :D).

Thanks to matchbookjealousy and hoglee for beta-ing, and please enjoy!

Sam's Superbowl Shuffle.

She wasn't looking at him. Like, really wasn't looking at him. She was sitting up in the stands, clapping and cheering like everyone else this afternoon at McKinley's victory celebration, a bright smile on her face and in her eyes and none of it was for him. And as Sam ran around the field, hyping up the crowd, he frowned a bit. Those eyes hadn't sparkled like that for him since...whatever. Sam shook it off and gave a loud whoop to stop himself from following Quinn's line of sight. He already had an idea where it would be, anyway, and he wasn't ready to confirm it.

It just was not fair. He'd been here all this time, and he was still the new kid. Still playing second fiddle to Finn Hudson, of all people. Sam widened his mouth - he hoped it looked like a smile. Quinn had really helped him these past few months -he'd only slipped into Na'vi a few times, and he stopped quoting his favorite movies. He'd even buried his comic book stash in the basement. He'd contemplated throwing it away, but when he'd packed them in the boxes he just found himself flipping through some of his favorites. No, he couldn't throw them away.

But he was getting cooler, and now he was truly a Titan at McKinley. Just not the biggest one - and that was what he deserved, to be the biggest one. Was Finn dating the head cheerleader? Well, the most popular girl in school? Sam pumped his fists in the air hard. Did Finn spend time preparing lemon juice for his hair? He knew that Finn didn't pump iron like he did. Sam turned to center field - to the undeserving quarterback himself. Finn was waving, beaming at the crowd. Sam noticed that his eyes didn't seem to move very much. Sam turned back to the stands. Probably looking at his mom or something.

Now they were all at center field in a line. Figgins was talking and Coach Beiste looked really proud of them all. Yet it was Finn's shoulder that the Beiste clapped. Sam rolled his and lifted his chin. This was about the team right now. When it was all over, Quinn would trip down from the stands into his arms. And that was what happened, except she was only there for a second before she pulled back.

"You're amazing," she said. Her eyes don't, but Sam gave her a little smile anyway.

"You're not so bad yourself," Sam replied, tipping his imaginary cowboy hat. Oh. Crap.

Quinn blinked. She looked away and her lips pulled into a tight line. It didn't last too long,though. He felt relieved when he saw a real smile blooming on her face. But she wasn't looking at him. He stared at her. One, two...He got to twenty seconds.

"So, meet me at my car?"

Quinn nodded and turned her whole body away. Sam didn't watch her walk. He ran up behind Artie's chair and reared him up.

Football. Not Kurt's thing - certainly not something he would usually skip class for, especially since he took Carole and Burt's monetary sacrifice very seriously. But they both seemed perfectly fine with him cutting out of his classes a little early to make McKinley's victory rally. Plus, Blaine was more than willing to join him - and Kurt was not one to dismiss the opportunity to go on a mini-date. So he primped and worked hard to make it look like he hadn't primped at all, and was properly rewarded when Blaine hopped into his car. The handsome warbler looked him up and down, nodding.

"Nice scarf. Is that a canary pin?"

"It is." Kurt fluttered his eyelashes and leaned into Blaine. "Inspired by our very own Pavarotti. Am I ready for Vogue?"

Blaine chuckled and shook his head, and Kurt's heart filled with joy. "Don't we have a rally to get to?"

Kurt threw his hand against Blaine's forearm and giggled before starting up the car. So here they were, watching Finn receive some award - he recalled Blaine saying something about an MVP, whatever that was. Most Vivacious Performance, maybe? Kurt just clapped. It didn't matter.

"Yeah, Finn!" Kurt turned to Blaine in the stands. "You're quite the hero, Blaine."

"Me? I just gave Rachel and Mercedes the idea. They orchestrated everything themselves. Major kudos to your brother and the ladies."

"You're so modest," Kurt sighed. It's one of the many reasons why you're so perfect and I love you.

Blaine threw his hands up, and looked down. It was not fair, how hard Kurt's heart beat for this boy. In fact, he threw his own hand up to it, wondering if Blaine might be deaf. How could he not hear the damn thing? Kurt bit his bottom lip and fought the urge to swoon. He did have some dignity left.

The whole ceremony was over now. Blaine turned to Burt and Carole, and of course he and Burt started talking about the game as if they hadn't already gone over every single thing that happened that night. Kurt was ecstatic about his father bonding with his future boyfriend, but he couldn't help the frown that marred his face. He stood patiently by, but when he noticed that it wasn't going to end any time soon he just rolled his eyes and went to join Carole on the field to congratulate Finn. Or at least that's what he was going to do. He was distracted by thoughts of Blaine sitting down to dinner at his side, his official boyfriend and was irritated (and maybe a little embarrassed) when he bumped into some buffoon with a bad dye job. Wait -a bad dye job...

"Sam!"

Sam took his time turning his head to nod at Kurt. "Hey."

Kurt smiled at him, at a loss. He liked Sam, had seen him around the house sometimes hanging with Finn and Puck, but he hadn't really talked to him since the duet competition. Sam shifted his weight from one leg to the other in the silence, and was about to turn his head again when it occurred to Kurt what he might say.

"Congratulations! This must be very exciting for you. The win, I mean."

Sam blinked at him."Yeah, pretty nice."

Kurt didn't take offense at the distracted affirmative. Sam's head was already swiveling in the other direction, and Kurt looked back at Blaine. Still babbling with his father. It touched him, it really did, but he couldn't help but wonder about his father's denseness. Could he not see that he was taking up precious alone time? Kurt sighed dramatically and looked across the field to Finn. Carole had one arm wrapped around his waist, and she was beaming. At Quinn, who was standing on Finn's other side with one hand against his bicep. Another sigh overtook him. Standing there like that they made the picture perfect couple - Finn in his quarterback uniform, and Quinn looking nothing less than like a mini-modern Grace Kelly, curse her. Kurt tilted his head to the side a bit and wondered who he and Blaine might be. Because naturally they would also be a picture perfect couple. Blaine was definitely a Cary Grant. Could Kurt be Kathryn Hepburn? He preferred Audrey...

A strong hand gripping his elbow jolted him out of his thoughts.

"Hey, you live with Finn, right?"

Kurt curled his elbow away from Sam's touch. "Yes. That's what generally happens when two families become one. They move in together."

Sam frowned at him. "You haven't been seeing Quinn around or anything like that, have you?"

Kurt shook his head, taking in Sam's drilling stare. Was that...desperation he saw in there?

"No," he said slowly.

He tried to give Sam a reassuring look. Sam looked back at them again and sighed. Kurt still talked to Mercedes and Tina, so he knew quite a bit about what was going on in McKinley's halls, but Finn wasn't exactly a chatterbox himself and there were even limits to Mercedes' and Tina's reach. He arched a brow at Sam. "Why? Do you wanna talk about it?"

Sam immediately snapped back to Kurt and rolled his shoulders.

"Quinn's never been a real big talker, but she barely talks to me now," Sam blurted. "It's like she's not even listening. And she smiles at her cellphone a lot. I know she's getting secret texts, but it's her phone, you know? She doesn't smile at me." Sam paused. "Well, she does smile at me, but not with her eyes."

Kurt was entirely sympathetic, but he kind of wanted to laugh. Sam looked so put out, almost...pouty. It was adorable, and this was some delicious (if somewhat tragic) dish.

"I hate to say this, but you're kind of lucky that's all you've got wrong with Quinn Fabray."

Okay, so Sam was not amused by a perfectly fair assessment of his girlfriend. Kurt put a hand on Sam's shoulder and thought about how to explain it to him.

"Look at her, Sam. Really look at her." Sam squinted and did not take his eyes off of his girlfriend. Kurt blinked at him, but continued. "She's the most popular girl in school, and she wants things to stay that way. And popularity is practically the only reason people our age get up in the morning and travel to the desolate landscape that is public school." He could see that he was speaking Sam's language now. "Practically royalty," Kurt emphasized.

"Royalty?"

"She works tirelessly to appease the masses, only letting her guard down around you, the royal consort." Kurt sighed at the romantic image he'd created. "And what have you done for her lately, Sam?" Only written her a love song, taken her to Breadsticks and spontaneously taken her to see an awesome Christian rock group that he'd known she'd like. Was that not enough?

Kurt made a face. "I see. You need to treat Quinn like a queen, Sam."

Treat her like a queen. Kurt had continued talking, but Sam stopped listening to him after that. He knew what it meant, and he is convinced that that's what he'd been doing- at least by his dad's standards. But...not Quinn's? Sam lowered his head until another thought occurred to him. Maybe Kurt meant like a real queen. Well, Sam could do that. He'd watched all 6 Star Wars movies and been dragged to quite a few renaissance fairs. He thought he could handle the basics.

The next morning when Quinn stepped into McKinley, Sam held open the door, took a deep breath and announced, "Her royal majesty, Queen Quinn Fabray of McKinley!"

A few students jumped, and more than one threw him strange looks - including the queen herself.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Sam's smile faltered a bit at her tone, but nevertheless he bowed at the waist and touched his lips to her hand. Quinn watched all of this with suspicion.

"Nothing, my liege lady."

"O-kay." She put her arm through his and allowed him to escort her down the halls. Sam walked proud and tall beside her, acting every bit the lovestruck knight (or at least he hoped he was). It had always looked a little dopey at the fairs, but it was actually kind of fun.

"Look, Brittany," Santana said as they passed her in the hall, "it's the mother of the year and her future baby-daddy, the joker."

Sam whirled around and drew his handily-crafted cardboard sword on Santana, jostling his ladyship in the process.

"Watch- no, keep thy tongue, wench!"

Santana glared down at the offending sword before crushing it with her hand. Sam really liked his sword!

"I don't know who you think you're calling wench, blondie, but your little fake sword is not going to stop me from giving you a real beat down. So I suggest you move like the lizard queen afores you find yourself on the floor."

Sam dropped his hand and belatedly turned to his side. Quinn was far down the hall, turning into her first period class. She stopped at the door to look back at him and shake her head before going in, and Sam had a feeling that "treating her like a queen" maybe hadn't worked. Then he turned back to Santana- who had completely ruined his sword blade and was crossing her arms - and gulped. He didn't doubt that Santana would floor him, she was that scary. So he hightailed it to his own first period to wallow in his failure.