The Breath Before the Kiss.
( o n e )
He’s looking up at Sam, his chin held up high—and not just because he naturally holds himself above everyone else, because Sam’s eyes are a small few inches above his own. The blonde is giving him that boyish grin that he adorns with such charm. Sam lifts a hand, tracing the edge Kurt’s jaw with the backs of his fingers gently. The countertenor absent-mindedly leans into the touch, a warm, loving smile finally breaking onto his face. He wonders if Sam can feel how fast his heart is pounding in the veins in his neck.
Sam knows Burt is off to the side of the room by the doorway, camera in hand (although they already took the pictures), watching over the two like the papabear he is, but the blonde doesn’t really care or mind. He’s focused solely on Kurt and the flecks of gold in his strikingly blue eyes.
“You look stunning,” he tells the brunette, whose cheeks suddenly become rosy as he glances over at his straight-faced father.
The former Cheerio clears his throat and idly fixes Sam’s bowtie, wanting something to do with his hands. “My dad’s here, Sam.”
The corners of Sam’s eyes crinkle as a soft laugh leaves his plump lips. “What, am I not allowed to compliment his amazingly beautiful and wonderful son in his presence before I escort said son to his prom?” Sam’s hands move to Kurt’s waist, pulling him close. Their chests gently press against one another, like their foreheads do instinctively.
Kurt’s nose bumps Sam’s playfully as his smile grows. He wants to say it, but he’s not sure. They’ve only ever said it to each other a small handful of times, and in private—never with somebody else in the room. So he hesitates, his mouth slightly open at a close proximity to Sam’s.
But it’s like Sam can read his mind. His grin melts into a soft smile, his lips just over Kurt’s as he says aloud what he feels.
“I love you.”
Sam knows Burt is off to the side of the room by the doorway, camera in hand (although they already took the pictures), watching over the two like the papabear he is, but the blonde doesn’t really care or mind. He’s focused solely on Kurt and the flecks of gold in his strikingly blue eyes.
“You look stunning,” he tells the brunette, whose cheeks suddenly become rosy as he glances over at his straight-faced father.
The former Cheerio clears his throat and idly fixes Sam’s bowtie, wanting something to do with his hands. “My dad’s here, Sam.”
The corners of Sam’s eyes crinkle as a soft laugh leaves his plump lips. “What, am I not allowed to compliment his amazingly beautiful and wonderful son in his presence before I escort said son to his prom?” Sam’s hands move to Kurt’s waist, pulling him close. Their chests gently press against one another, like their foreheads do instinctively.
Kurt’s nose bumps Sam’s playfully as his smile grows. He wants to say it, but he’s not sure. They’ve only ever said it to each other a small handful of times, and in private—never with somebody else in the room. So he hesitates, his mouth slightly open at a close proximity to Sam’s.
But it’s like Sam can read his mind. His grin melts into a soft smile, his lips just over Kurt’s as he says aloud what he feels.
“I love you.”