I Had No Clue What You Would Do With This - Blog Posts

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Silver?

“Why on earth would you paint yourself silver?” Finn whispered, standing in the doorway of the bathroom as Sam rubbed frantically at his face with a washcloth, silver face paint covering him from the top of his forehead and down to where his V-neck tee, a light grey, started. “Did you use permeant marker or something?”

“It won’t come off,” Sam cried, trying to stay quiet. The Humdel parents had been kind enough to let him stay for the school year, he didn’t want them knowing he’d snuck out for a midnight screening for a double-viewing of the Fantastic-Four movies. He also didn’t want Mr. Burt to see him covered in silver. He knew the man was very kind and accepting of pretty much anything, but he was sure the man didn’t appreciate his bathroom getting covered in silver paint. “Finn!” He whispered, a bit frantic. “Help me!”

“I don’t know what to do!” Finn cried back, stepping into the bathroom to look at Sam through the mirror. “Maybe we should wake up-”

“No.” Sam interrupted, his eyes wide with fear. “Waking up Kurt is the last resort.”

“Why?” Finn asked. “Kurt will know what to do to get the paint off.”

“You really think waking Kurt up-your brother, who bit you when you woke him up from a nap to ask him where the coffee grounds were-will appreciate being woken up to help me de-silverfy?” Sam shook his head, and groaned when another swipe at his face with the wash cloth barely removed anything. “No way.”

“Well,” Finn shrugged. “It’s either I go and wake up Kurt, or you are silver until he wakes up in the morning.”

Sam wiped again at his face. He looked in the mirror, and whimpered a bit: he’d been cleaning up for an hour, and he was still mostly silver. He still didn’t want to wake Kurt.

“I’ll just be silver forever,” Sam moaned. 

“What are you two-Sam?” Kurt stepped into the bathroom doorway, drawing back in surprise when the pair whipped around to stare at the smaller teen. Kurt was gaping at him, eyebrows upturned as he took in the situation. Finally, after a few moments of awkward silence, Kurt deflated, shaking his head in obvious disappointment. “Sam,” he groaned, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I told you not to paint yourself silver.”

“Ohhh,” Finn said, registering why Sam didn’t want to wake Kurt. “You didn’t want to wake him, because he told you this would happen.”

“Yes yes yes,” Sam looked to Kurt desperately. “You can lecture me in the morning. Please help me,” Sam begged. He clasped his hands-also silver-and made puppy-dog eyes at Kurt. Kurt, for his part, just looked at him through tired eyes, and sighed again.

“Fine,” he said. “Wait here. Finn, grab the extra washcloths from the cabinet so Sam doesn’t turn this whole bathroom silver.” Kurt strode out of the doorway, Finn tossing Sam a few new washcloths with his order. The pair waited a few minutes, Sam feeling so tired he wondered if it was just best to sleep in the bathroom and wait until morning to clean, just as Kurt reentered, holding a jar in one hand a glass of water in the other.

“Coconut oil,” Kurt told him, setting the jar on the counter and opening it up. “Put this on your skin, wet a washcloth, and it will come off. I suggest taking a shower after since you’ll feel very slick and gross, even if you won’t be silver anymore.” 

“Thank you,” Sam replied, relieved. “What’s the water for?” Finn stood from his seat on the bathtub rim, leaving Sam to finally wash off his mistake.

“Me,” Kurt replied. “It’s why I was up.” Before he could stop him, though, Kurt raised his arm, and quickly took a photo, having hid his phone in his pajama pants pocket. “Thanks for not waking me up. Goodnight Sam, Finn.” With that, Kurt quickly, and somehow quietly, dashed back down the hall to his room, before Sam could grab at him.

“Night dude, Finn said with a laugh. “Have fun. See you in the morning.” Sam could only watch, still too silver for retaliation, as the taller teen left him alone. Groaning for what felt like the 100th time that night, Sam stared back at himself in the mirror.

He was never going to paint himself again. 

Fantastic-Four be damned. 

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