Title: I Could Use Some Friends for a Change
Summary: Santana shows up at Sam's door one night, and their somewhat romantic relationship turns full friendship in light of Santana's true feelings for someone else. Samtana friendship, Brittana.
Spoilers: This is actually set around Night of Neglect, before Born This Way, after Sexy. So, if that's a spoiler for you… maybe you should catch up on the show.
Disclaimer: Those characters that seem so familiar, they ain't mine.
Author's Note: This is kind of headcanon turned one-shot. I've had this idea since Born This Way aired, so I'm not sure why it took me so long to getting around to writing it. Title from Some Nights – fun.
Sam's head pops up from his school books to stare at the door when he hears a knock.
It's around nine at night and his brother and sister are already in bed; his parents are out working late shifts at some crappy jobs just so they could afford to even stay in this motel. No one really visits him either, especially without calling, which Quinn and Kurt would definitely do if they were coming by so late, and no one else really knows where he's staying.
He puts down his pencil in the crease of his math textbook and gets up, moving over to the door. When he creaks it open slightly he sees a pretty Latina standing there looking sheepish.
"Santana?" He questions, pulling the door back further so he can see her properly. Her eyes are downcast, and she looks like she might have been crying at some point, because her face is still a slight bit puffy.
She hesitates for another moment before her gaze flicks up to him and she snaps, "Is it really nice manners to keep a lady waiting out in the cold, or are you going to invite me in?"
Sam startles a bit and then lets out a small laugh. He steps back from the door and waves exaggeratingly, while bowing, for her to enter, "Please, come in, Your Royal Highness."
Santana tries to glare at him as she passes, but the tiny lift at the corner of her lips betrays her.
As Sam follows her over to the table he realizes her outfit really isn't suited to her. She's got grey sweatpants on, and he can see the hood of a sweatshirt over her jacket, which she sheds and drapes over a chair, confirming his suspicions. The only time he'd seen her in sweatpants was for Cheerio's, but these are the standard I-couldn't-be-bothered type.
He watches as she flops down in one of the chairs and glances at the textbook he'd been working through, scowling and then flipping it shut. It's still got the pencil in it, though, so Sam's not really worried about losing his place.
"To what do I owe the honour?" Sam asks as he sits down casually in another chair. He wasn't even sure she knew where he was staying, he only mentioned it once to her, so he's more than a bit surprised that she's here. It shouldn't feel so painfully random for his girlfriend to show up at his door.
There's a shuffling noise across the room and Santana looks over at his siblings sleeping on a bed in the corner, realizing now that they're not alone. "Are the brats going to wake up?" she inquires quietly.
Sam chuckles, "They'd sleep through a tornado. And you don't think they're brats. You love kids."
She snaps her head back to glare at him, but doesn't deny it.
He sits up a bit and rests his head in his palm, "Why have you been crying?"
"I'm not–I haven't…" she trails off with an exasperated sound, bring her hand up to brush over her eyes and then through her loose hair.
"There's no use denying it," Sam says softly, "your eyes are still a little red."
Santana turns the full effect of her bitch glare at him, "Shut it, Trouty Mouth."
He raises his hands in defence, "Hey, I'm just saying, I am your boyfriend, after all."
She sighs at this, and the force behind her anger wilts. Sam hears her quietly mutter "What am I doing?" when she brings her hands up to cover her face.
"Seriously, Santana," he says, reaching forward and pulling her hands off her face, noticing that the red in her eyes has gotten more prominent, like she's going to cry again, "you can talk to me."
Santana moves to stand, but Sam's grip on her hands tug her back into her seat. "Look, this was supposed to just be a get in and get out situation. I wasn't supposed to fucking cry," she adds quietly at the end.
At the curse, Sam's eyes dart over to his siblings, but they haven't moved an inch. They're out like a light. A tornado really could come through right now and they wouldn't wake.
Sam watches as Santana deflates into the chair, her hands slipping out of his when he realizes she's not going anywhere.
"This is about Brittany, isn't it?" Sam asks when she doesn't offer anything. It startles her, and she quickly looks up at him, somehow looking scared, betrayed, and relieved all at once.
"I-I…" she stutters, and Sam can see how conflicted she is. Like she wants to say seven million different things but can't figure out what to say first, or what she can say and still be the girl he knows. Like somewhere along the way she lost who she was pretending to be, and she can't get it back.
"I won't tell anyone, it's okay," Sam offers when she continues to look more fishy than him with her mouth opening and closing around unsaid words.
Santana reaches across the table suddenly with panic in her eyes and grabs his hand, "No. No, it's not like that, it's- it's…"
Sam laughs lightly, "Santana, despite how much you believe it, I'm not actually a moron."
"W-what?" she stutters out, then looks embarrassed and dips her head down, retracting her hands.
"Really. Sometimes my grades aren't awesome, but I'm a pretty observant guy," he smiles at her. "Tell me what happened."
She looks up at him with confusion laced through her features, "That's it? That's the reaction? If we're on the same wavelength here, you know we're breaking up, right?"
Sam shrugs and relaxes back into his chair, "Were we ever really together?"
Santana looks down at the table, and Sam can almost see her going through the last couple weeks in her head, trying to figure out when he would have figured it all out.
"Don't tell me you didn't always love her," he points out.
She bites her lip at the l-word and scrunches up her nose, trying to figure out if she's comfortable sharing with him.
Sam contorts his face slightly and stiffens his posture. He can tell by the fresh panic in Santana's eyes that she's aware he's going to use an impression to try and lighten the mood. Her hand comes flying up and stops in front of his face.
"No," is all she says.
"But-"
"No, not tonight," she continues, her tone threatening.
Sam relaxes back into his easy posture from before, "Fine." He grabs at her hand that's still hovering in the air, and cradles it back on the table. Her hands are smooth and they feel delicate, much like how he assumes her heart is.
"I don't know what to do anymore," Santana sighs after a moment of staring at the differences in their hands.
He looks up at her, "Does she know?"
"I thought she did," Santana answers before rolling her eyes and adding, "this is ridiculous."
"Why?"
She gives him that look she always give to someone she thinks is being really stupid, "Because I'm sitting here talking to you, my now ex-boyfriend, about the girl I'm in love with."
Sam's eyes light up and he lifts a finger in the air, "Ah! So you do love her!"
"Oh, my god, shut up," Santana grumbles miserably, burying her face in her hands again.
It's quiet for a few moments before Sam grabs at one of her hands again, pulling it away from her face, and saying seriously, "I'm really not judging you here, you know that, right?"
She sighs and looks over at him, scrutinizing the look on his face, "I don't understand why you're being so understanding about everything."
He shrugs, "Well, I don't understand negatively judging people, so…"
They're silent again for a little bit before Sam adds, "I care about you Santana, even if we hadn't been dating. You're part of my family here in Lima."
"You're annoyingly nice," she grumbles back before staring at the table as she whispers, "I just want to be with her."
"And she doesn't want to be with you?" Sam asks.
Santana's eyebrows furrow as she continues, "No, it's… I don't know. I thought she did. I really thought she did, but there's Artie and… and now I don't know."
Sam watches as she deflates a little and then stands up and starts pacing behind her chair.
"I don't understand," Santana rants, defaulting back to anger, "why does she want to be with the fucking cripple anyways? He's just some stupid boy."
He flinches at her tone and word choice, but lets her continue. He can tell she's been needing to talk to someone about this, it's probably been welling up inside of her for some time, and she can't exactly talk to her best friend about it.
She stops pacing abruptly and sinks back into the chair. "I thought she loved me," Santana whispers brokenly, "but why would she, really? She's everything wonderful, and what am I? Just some bitch."
"Hey, hey, none of that," Sam argues, reaching forward and placing his hand on her shoulder, "You're fantastic, you don't need me to tell you that."
She looks like she wants to argue for a minute, but instead she just shrugs his hand off her shoulder. Santana turns to look at his siblings sleeping on the other side of the room. She doesn't say anything, just watches them; calm and innocent. Like Brittany, Sam realizes.
"I wasn't going to tell you any of this," she says quietly after a moment, still watching the young kids, "I don't even know why I really came over, I could have just said it's over tomorrow at school."
He takes in her outfit once again, noting how distressed she looks when she's not trying to put on a mask for everyone, "You needed someone to talk to, and your subconscious was correct in leading you to me for that."
Santana keeps her eyes trained on his siblings, but he hears her voice waver slightly when she replies, "What are you going to say tomorrow at school?"
"I'm not going to say anything," he responds instantly, "just tell them what you want them to hear."
She turns back slowly, her dark eyes staring into his. He thinks the look of disbelief might be stuck on her face. "Why would you do that?"
Sam chuckles lightly, "Look, I'm not going to shove you out of the closet or anything if you're not ready for that. You're the one who has to deal with all of this, so I'll let you take the reins."
"Honestly," she smiles, "I don't know what Quinn was thinking when she cheated on you with Mr. Tubs of Fun."
His face drops slightly at the mention of Quinn, but he shakes his head lightly and focuses on Santana again, holding out his hand to her, "Friends?"
She lightly laughs and stares at his hand for a few seconds before shrugging and letting hers join his, "Friends."
"My parents will be home soon," Sam says when their hands have parted, "But I think you should come over tomorrow after school and we'll talk about this. Figure out a game plan."
"A game plan?" she questions, "Nothing's going to work, she's with Ar-"
"I told you," Sam insists, cutting her off, "I'm not a moron. No one can tell me she doesn't love you back."
He watches as Santana's face lifts slightly, like she's realizing there may be some hope for her and Brittany after all.
"My only advice at the moment," he continues, "is to be her friend. You can't force her into something without making her feel bad about hurting someone. Just be there for her. Artie's my friend, but I'm sure something'll happen sometime, and she'll just need you to be there."
Santana nods shortly and then stands, "I should be going."
Sam stands with her and walks her over to the door as she shrugs her jacket back on. "I'm serious about coming over tomorrow and explaining everything," he says.
"What are you, my BFF now?" she huffs out gruffly, but Sam can see the warmth in her eyes.
He laughs quietly, "I just want you to know I'm here for you."
She rolls her eyes and opens the door, trailing out into the cold when she turns and upon seeing his face says exasperatingly, "Alright, I'll be here, just stop the puppy dog eyes."
Sam smiles and raises his fist for a fist bump, which she stares at incredulously and then turns and walks away, "Goodnight, Sam."
She's already halfway into the parking lot to her car when he whispers with a smile on his face, "Night, Santana."