Note: Well, if I were a better writer, this would be a much longer story with proper exposition and it would have been Beta'd, and it would have actually had a coherent plot, and fuck man, the lead up to the sexytimes might have been believable. It might have even logically fit somewhere in canon timeline. But you're not here for logic. You're here for Popular.
Somewhere in the timeline that doesn't belong to me, what with other people owning the rights to the show and characters and all. Standard disclaimers, those all apply, though.
Shutting up now.
"A shared bathroom is the most daunting test of a relationship. You're fated to always be mortal enemies." Mary Cherry quickly stated, eyes trained intently on her own reflection as its fingers applies a delicate swish swash and touch up of her pigmented mask. Without missing a beat, her focus darted over to her bathroom compatriot, lids narrowing to increase her dramatic intensity tenfold. "Or else... mortal lovers."
"Please, Mary Cherry. I love a good dyke joke as much as the next cynical hormone-ridden teenager in this dank gene pool of a school, but the thought of our Brookie here turning gay for that tasteless Spam makes my cafeteria food filled stomach turn. And it's not like that lunch needs any more help coming up." Nicole didn't even glance up from her much more interesting duty of nail filing.
"Well you never know, Nikki. Those hormone ridden minds under the pressure of haggling over hair dryer usage each day get some pret-ty dark ideas."
"Mary Cherry, while it's unfortunate that Brookie has to share a powder room with... that, I don't think the mental and emotional stress would twist her to want to lez out over it." Nicole glanced in her permanent glare up at Mary Cherry, frustration at the speculations clearly apparent. Having thrown her poison tipped eye darts and made her point, she settled back into her manicure with a confident waggle of her head. "Besides, why would she go for chopped liver when she has steak right here?"
Brooke just sighed. She finished the ritual (needless, but ritual) touch up of her make up, and walked out the door, sweetly sarcastic smile lingering with her friends cheerfully.
"Don't worry Nicole, I'd never have lesbian fantasies about anyone but you. Catch ya later."
"... You think Brookie'd ever go gay? There's not a soul in the world could wear a mullet well, but I bet she'd wear flannel better than any other lesbian in the tri-state area." Mary Cherry sized up her non present friend with a skeptical glance at Nicole.
"Mary Cherry. Seriously? I'd take it better if those two ended next week with double homicide."
The disinterested, factual manner with which Mary Cherry presented ridiculous superstitious happenings gave Brooke goosebumps. What a creep. The thing that clinched Miss Cherry's title, though, was the unbridled accuracy of her backwards postulations. Not that Brooke had designs in either direction, certainly not but for anyone to have her fate pronounced so dramatically was... unsettling.
At least that was how Brooke tried to excuse her current flustered state.
'This is ridiculous,' Brooke mentally scolded herself.
'There's no reason to get worked up over anything. It's just everything that's been happening this week, and I really don't need to think about Sam any more than...' Thinking about Sam. Funny things had happened in the last few months. Funnier things had happened in her life, and this wasn't really funny at all. It was just... sexy.
She had denied it for a week or so, panicked for a week or so, and quickly settled into a rountine of ignoring and reveling in her newfound fantasies. It was after a few Biology classes she had realized she couldn't hide herself from it, a few classes in which the only thing she had learned was that Sam's tongue was very dexterous (the way it circled her lips and pressed the inside of her cheeks was quite the tell), when Sam chewed on a pen, she moved it clockwise three times, and then counterclockwise three times, and that there was probably room for approximately five good sized hickeys (right in a row) in the delectable space between Sam's chin and collarbone.
She sighed and frowned a little bit, reprimanding herself, not for the thoughts, but how worked up that particular Novac conversation had gotten her. Had she not been so busy swearing and wondering if Mary cherry had some weird gypsy curse, she might have avoided
Brooke had decided, all those months ago, that she wouldn't touch Sam more than absolutely necessary. She wasn't a very tactile person to begin with, (body image problems did wonders for becoming a well adjusted person, as she always liked to joke to herself) but this situation called for all kinds of bottom lines. No hugging, no brushing, no rubbing, no soft caresses or kisses on the back of her neck, no trailing fingertips down toned, writhing stomachs, no nothing.
Granted, Running straight into and flattening the object of her affections was not nearly as thrilling or flirtatious a gesture as most of the ones she had specifically barred from her life, but it was a shock, nonetheless.
"Jesus, Brooke, is it mating season already?" Oh, how that smoky voice teased her ears. No time for that, though, or to think about mating in any sense of the word. Brooke reeled for a moment at the contact, but social skills were still in her repetoire, she was sure of it.
"Wha...? Sam, I know obscure references are cool in some circles, but what the hell did you just say?"
"Ah... It was... Deer. You know how deer and goats ram their heads together around mating season to prove who's the better mate?" Sam was uncharacteristically not-eloquent, dare Brooke say, compliant today. As they helped each other stand and gather the dropped supplies, Brooke couldn't help but notice some unsure, sullen glances snuck into Sam's usual fiery, defiant gaze.
"What's up with you today? I ran into you specifically to claim my alotted portion of witty verbal abuse."
"It... It's nothing..." As entirely and completely hot as Sam was when she was defiantly arguing every minutia, this vunerable Sam was at least, incredibly, dangerously adorable.
"Well... Ok... see you at the house. Pizza tonight, right?"
"Yep." An almost forced smile wiggled onto Sam's face, enthusiastic sarcasm blocking view of whatever unsurity had captured her mind instants ago. "Fresh to us from the finest pizza artists this side of Italy. Or Domino's. Whichever's cheaper."
Smiles held them together for a moment longer before they passed each other and headed off to their respective classes.
"Nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing like subconsciously throwing myself in the path of my incredibly gorgeous, absolutely perfect, and entirely frustrating almost-half-sister just because I'm so desperate to touch her. What's wrong with me?" As those words tumbled quietly out of soft pink lips, green eyes right above them clouded with tumultuous thoughts. Sam McPherson needed to do some thinking.