I disclaim. This just kind of came to me. I have so much to write, so little time, but sometimes I just have to listen to my muse. She doesn't appreciate when I don't. Hehe.

XXXXXX

Sam is pretty sure she's just using him.

He doesn't know that it's more than that—that she doesn't just want to use him, she wants to break him. It's not personal, it's just business, she tells herself.

At first she doesn't know how to handle this boy. She knows how to bitch at him and call him stupid or dorky, she knows how to send him a seductive look, and she's pretty sure she knows how to get into his pants whenever she wants.

Apparently that is not the case though, she soon discovers.

He's at her house, and on her bed, and all he wants to do is talk.

"Sam—"she snaps. "Do you want in my pants or not?"

"Yeah, but I—"

"Then get to it."

It's pretty unromantic, Sam realizes. "Don't you want something more romantic?"

She looks at him in shock, and he realizes in shock that she doesn't.

He wonders if Santana had ever wanted it, or if a series of boys and men had just ripped her heart out.

It doesn't really matter.

He's kind of her boyfriend, and he doesn't want to treat her like that. "I don't really know you, Santana. And I want to know you."

She scowls at him, and looks into his eyes. She's angry. "Evans, this isn't about that. This is supposed to be about sex."

"It's supposed to be about winning. It's supposed to be about winning against Quinn." He says it and it's true, and yet there's a part that isn't.

Santana isn't happy. "Leave."

"Santana—" he says.

The way he says her name makes her want to weaken and melt, but that's unacceptable. She glares at him, he stands up as if to leave, but then he leans back down to kiss her cheek and he walks out.

She sits there, watching him.

It isn't fair.

She chose Sam because Quinn had him.

She chose Sam because there's a part of her that wondered if his sweet puppy act was real.

She chose Sam—she chose Sam because she wondered sometimes what it felt like.

She wondered what it felt like to be loved. Cherished.

So despite the fact that she's horny as hell, there's a part of her that's happy.

She's insulted that he won't sleep with her. But happy.

It's a rather uncomfortable sort of feeling. She tries to throw out all of her thoughts about love—because she's not the type of girl who gets to be loved.

Love is bullshit, it's for people who want to pretend that there's some meaning to life. In reality all there is is screwing. You can screw, screw, screw till it hurts a little less.

And that inkling of a feeling that she felt when he turned her down is meaningless. At that she sits up on her bed, sighs, grabs her vibrator, and lets all the pain and rage consume her.

XXXX

He asks for a date. She says yes, because he asks her about fifty times.

And she's curious—because she kind of expects him to take her to see some geeky movie, or play video games, and she really wants to see what she's made of.

Sam takes her to a fancy dinner.

It goes horribly, to say the least.

Not because the food is bad(it's great), or because he pays for her(which scares her, to say the least), or because they don't have anything to talk about(because after the initial cruel comment, they find something to talk about, because Santana used to watch those geeky movies with her sister, but no one ever gets to know that, not even Sam. She just spews out insults, but impresses him because it proves she knows a lot more than she seems to know).

It goes horribly because in the end all she gets is a kiss.

He drives her home, and she wonders why the hell this feels like a date, he walks her up to her porch.

He stands there, in typical awkward-Sam fashion. "I had a good time."

Santana narrows her eyes. "You're insane."

"Maybe," but he smiles, and leans in and kisses her gently next to her mouth.

Next to her mouth—not on it. She isn't having that though, so she shifts her mouth and captures his lips with her own, and pulls him tightly to herself.

It's an interesting feeling.

But then it's over, and Sam's whispering something about another date in her ear and she's mumbling no until somehow she's saying yes.

XXXX

"A park?" she asks disdainfully.

It's a nice park, she'll give it that. But Santana is not a park type of gal.

He just smiles and grabs her hand, pulling her over to feed the ducks.

Later she thinks to herself that this guy is insane, and just made her feed ducks with mildly gross bread.

He makes her laugh. And that's bad, and unacceptable, so she proceeds to criticize his hair cut, it's still a little Bieber-esque, and that kid cut his hair weeks ago.

XXXX

The next time she sees him he has a new haircut, and she's trying not to smile, because it's kind of cute—but she cuts that thought off, because she doesn't do cute. She also isn't doing Sam, and that's still annoying, but less so when he looks at her like that, and cares about her opinion.

They somehow end up playing paintball with Puck and Rachel—against some other people from high school she doesn't even care about.

Rachel is still insisting she needs to be single to follow her dreams, and Puck is trying not to make a move because he's friends with Finn again. And Santana is just highly amused.

Later, after they win and he takes her home, Sam turns to her and asks if she's okay.

"I'm fine," she says, shocked to realize that it's true.

"I saw you looking at Puck—"

"It's nothing. I just think it's sad."

Sam looks a little jealous, Santana realizes. It's cute.

Santana doesn't do cute, but she'll make an exception right now.

She leans over and kisses his cheek. "Bitches be crazy. Little Miss I love Headbands is in love with Puck. And he loves her, and they're stupid."

"Why?" Sam tilts his head to the side and struggles not to smile. He's looking down at her expectantly.

Suddenly she's nervous. "Because they won't make a move."

"I thought you didn't believe in love."

"I—"she doesn't have to say anything because at that moment her sister comes to her door at that moment, requesting help with her homework, and her mind is completely gone. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

Sam just smiles. "I'll help."

Santana turns to him in surprise. "You don't have to."

No one but Brittany ever understands. No one gets to know how important her sister is to her.

Gaby smiles at that, and Santana knows she's screwed. "I'd like that. It's a science project."

"And you want Santana to help you?" Sam seems mildly surprised, and then realizes that no one ever talks about Santana being smart or dumb, she's just a bitch.

"Santana always helps me," Gaby replies. "Who are you?"

"I'm Sam."

Gaby narrows her eyes. "So you're the boy."

The little 12-year-old has spunk, Sam realizes. "I'm a boy."

Gaby smiles. "Yeah, but there's a difference." She leans against the door frame. "You're the boy who makes her smile."

Santana doesn't look at Sam to see his reaction. "Gaby—"she starts. "Why don't you go get everything we need." It's not a question, but also not a demand, but Gaby listens.

She watches as her sister leaves. She feels Sam's hand grasp her own and she fights the smile that threatens to overwhelm her face.

XXXX

Sam makes her feel weak.

He makes her want.

And he hasn't done anything but be nice to her.

It's when he stops being nice that things happen.

"Why do you always do this?" he demands.

He slams his locker shut and stares at her.

"What?" The look on her face is half confusion and half pissed off.

"What you did to Quinn—it was cruel."

Santana blinks. "I haven't done anything to her. Lately." She has to add the last bit.

He looks down at her as if he isn't sure whether to believe her or not.

"She said—"

"Look, Sam. You may not like it, but I'm almost always honest. Quinn is the known liar. And I'm your girlfriend. Who do you want to believe?"

He sighs. "I don't know."

She feels herself harden, and her face contorts, and the happy smile that's been on her face for the past few weeks is gone.

"Bye, Sam." She turns and walks away.

He watches her and wonders if he made a mistake.

XXXX

"Quinn, did you lie to me?" he corners her in an empty classroom.

She smiles innocently at him. "Of course not. You know how slutty Santana can be. She came on to Finn. But he turned her away, because he loves me."

Sam sees the lie. He sees that Quinn always does this. He realizes that he never really knew her, and he supposes he never really wanted to.

At that moment Sam realizes that he's completely over Quinn. "I don't believe you," he says and he leaves.

Quinn is left staring in shock.

XXXX

It's raining.

It's kind of funny.

Sam throws a rock up at Santana's window.

She opens it, and one nearly hits her. She picks it up off her floor and before Sam can say anything but "I'm sorry" she throws it back, hitting him on the forehead. He looks up at her in surprise.

"I'm sorry." He says it again.

"I don't care."

He's getting sopping wet now, and Santana thinks he rather looks like a wet dog(but a cute one, which only makes her angry), and she then realizes that it's like midnight, and she's wondering why it took him so long to get over to her house, and she just kind of wants to cry because she doesn't understand why she hurts so much.

"I love you," he says, cutting into her thoughts and rendering her mute.

At that her window slams closed.

He just stands in the rain.

Damn spring rains.

He sits down on the ground.

"Get up," he hears Santana approach him.

"Santana—I'm so sorry. And I tried so hard. I just wanted to make you feel special. I wanted to know you. I've spent the last few months falling in love with you, and wanting your respect, and then as soon as Quinn lied to me, I turned my back on you." He's disappointed in himself, and he blames himself. And he hurts, and she can see that.

Santana just stares at him.

He realizes that she's getting really wet, and she's wearing pajamas—and not the sexy kind, but the kind that say she was probably in bed eating ice cream and trying not to cry—and no jacket, so he takes off his own and puts it on her.

She opens her mouth as if to speak, and he waits.

"I love you too."

Those are the last words he expects to hear.

"Oh." He's confused.

His arms are still around her from putting the coat on her.

They stand there, together, in the rain.

And suddenly Santana lifts her head up, and Sam's head tilts down, and they meet in the middle.

"I love you," he repeats, when they've pulled apart.

"I love you too," she says. "But you're shivering. And I'm not going to be the reason you die." She pulls him with her towards her home.

She shoves him into the shower, turning on the hot water.

She turns away, but he grabs her arm and pulls her in with him.

They peel slick, sopping clothing off each other.

Fluidly, as if they've done this before, or rehearsed it somehow, he slips inside of her, and she arches her back against the side of the shower.

The water, the ache, the sex all melds together.

Later they're in bed, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm really thankful my parents and Gaby aren't here," she laughs.

"Me too," he laughs with her.

The laughter dies down, and Santana turns on her side awkwardly, out of curiosity. Sam turns with her, and just holds her.

It's nice.

He whispers in her ear again that he loves her.

And she really believes it, and says it back.