Word Count: 1063
Summary: Future!fic. Glow in the dark stars definitely have their merits.
Sam doesn’t sleep that night. He watches Kurt as cars pass by their window, casting shadows across the room, and he touches his hair and taps his shoulder and sticks his face an inch away, breathing across his milky skin for a full sixty seconds, until he’s positive Kurt’s deeply asleep. Then he gets up and sneaks the glow in the dark stars out from under the bed, silently moving a chair over to stand on as he sticks them to the ceiling. His hands tremble a little, partially out of fear that he might fall and wake Kurt up (or fall on him and have to spend the night that he’s dreamed about for so long in the emergency room), and partially out of a terrified sort of excitement that makes him want to laugh and throw up at the same time.
He starts on the last two words, pausing as he glances at the bed. Kurt is on his side, one hand resting on his pillow, his fingers delicately curled. His hair is completely disheveled, brown locks falling against his eyes, and his lips are slightly parted as he breathes noiselessly, his body just barely rising and falling. Sam swallows, letting out a silent breath of his own as he turns back to the ceiling, carefully adjusting the stars until it’s exactly the way it’s supposed to be, no mistakes or spelling errors, because this moment has to be perfect.
“Oh my god—what are you doing?” Kurt asks suddenly, the sheets rustling as he scrabbles on the bed. Sam is so startled that he drops the rest of the stars, and Kurt squawks indignantly and covers his head as they rain down on him.
“You’re supposed to be asleep!” Sam hisses, throwing a hand out to keep his balance. He grasps at the air, teetering for a moment, and Kurt lunges over and steadies him, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist. Sam puts a hand in Kurt’s hair and stands completely still, sighing when he’s sure he’s not going to fall.
“Sam,” Kurt says calmly, but they’ve known each other long enough, and Sam knows the tone Kurt adopts when he’s about to demand Sam to explain himself. Sam looks down, and Kurt almost looks up, but Sam panics and hops off the chair, swiftly covering Kurt’s eyes with one hand.
“Get off me!” Kurt commands huffily, slapping Sam’s arms lightly, but Sam pushes him down onto the bed, keeping his eyes covered until he’s straddling Kurt, bringing his face close enough to block Kurt’s view of the ceiling.
“Shh, calm down,” Sam says, carefully removing his hand, and Kurt stares up at him with eyes wide with exasperation.
“What are you doing?” Kurt demands again. “Do you know how frightening it is to wake up in the middle of the night and find some dark figure looming over the bed?”
Sam winces a little. “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Just—what are you hiding?” Kurt cranes his neck to look past Sam’s head, and Sam quickly covers his eyes again. This time Kurt practically screeches, trying to pry Sam’s hand away. “Let me see!”
“No! Kurt, just wait,” Sam says desperately, then lets out a muffled grunt when Kurt’s flailing hand hits him in the eye. Kurt stills after that, looking sheepishly apologetic as he carefully hovers his fingers over Sam’s face, his lips making a little o shape.
“Are you all right?” Kurt asks, cringing. Sam blinks awkwardly, colorful spots dancing across one eye, but he nods.
“Yeah, I’m good. It’s okay,” Sam sighs, suddenly having second thoughts—not about what he wants to ask, but how he went about asking it. He should have just done the one whole get-down-on-one-knee thing instead of trying to think up something else. He’s still blocking Kurt’s vision, and suddenly he wants to tear the stars down and do something more classy, more normal… something not completely, embarrassingly nerdy.
“Sam, what’s going on?” Kurt asks, his voice soft, and Sam meets his eyes, taking in his earnest expression, and the least he can do is be honest about his appalling idea. He’s blown his only shot at this—the second time will be during a candlelight dinner, probably, with all of Kurt’s favorite foods, a ring tucked into the pocket of Sam’s suit, and it’ll be romantic, but it’ll always be a makeup for the first botched attempt.
Sam focuses on the wrinkle between Kurt’s eyebrows, then bows his head, climbing off and sliding down next to Kurt. He wants to keep his eyes closed, but he’s morbidly curious, so he cracks one eye open and holds his breath as he gazes at the silhouette of Kurt’s face. Kurt lies still for a long moment, staring straight up, and Sam is seized with the fear that maybe he did spell something wrong and his message doesn’t even make sense. Sam peeks at the ceiling, carefully going over each glowing word, each letter, and he’s pretty sure that it’s impossible to misspell the phrase will you marry me?
“You don’t have to say anything,” Sam mumbles, disappointment weighing on him as he looks at his work. At least it’s pretty, if stupid. “I’m gonna redo this with food and candles and a ring and we’ll both actually be wearing tuxes instead of boxers and—”
“No,” Kurt whispers, shaking his head, and Sam turns, his hair feeling staticky on his pillow as he watches Kurt’s throat bob.
“No?” Sam asks uncertainly. Well, of course Kurt would say no. Who would say yes to glow in the dark stars on the ceiling? They love each other, yeah, but he’s pretty sure this isn’t Kurt’s idea of an acceptable marriage proposal.
“No,” Kurt repeats, looking at him, and Sam swears his eyes are shining in the dim light. “No, you’re not redoing this.”
“This is dumb. I can do better,” Sam insists, but Kurt shakes his head again, pushing himself up on one elbow so Sam has a clear view into his eyes. Kurt brushes a hand through Sam’s hair, then leans down and kisses him gently. His mouth trembles against Sam’s, and he places his hand at the small of Kurt’s back, holding him lightly. Kurt murmurs something, and Sam’s heart jumps a little, unsure if he heard correctly.