You are my sweetest downfall
Sam and Santana weren't even friends until after they got out of high school. They were in a technical music class in college when they started to become friends. Both from the same school, both pursuing music careers. They didn't even really exchange a conversation until that first class. They realized how much they actually had in common and clicked. It was almost like destiny.
They were best friends by the end of their first week.
After a year, they moved into an apartment together in Columbus, close to campus. Brittany came and stayed with them whenever she could, but she was working back in Lima. Sam and Santana were hardly apart anymore. In fact, people who didn't know better thought they were together.
The thought of them together, though, made them want to laugh. Sam was in no position and had no desire to even want to be in a relationship. Santana only had eyes for Brittany. They were just friends. Like siblings, only less fighting. She ditched her bitchy persona around him, and he taught her Na'vi.
For the first time, they were able to love without being in love.
"My hair is getting too long," Sam muttered, seeing his reflection in the glass of the cupboard. He hadn't gotten it cut in a little less than a year. From behind, people thought he was a muscle-y Quinn. His hair was nearly to his shoulders.
Santana looked over at him and looked at his hair. "I'll cut it, if you want," she said. She handed him the plate she'd been drying and he put it away in the cupboard he'd just been using as a mirror. "It won't be perfect, but it'll be gone." Sam smiled gratefully at her, accepting her proposition. "You know, I kinda like it." His smile faded, and she laughed and went back to drying the plates and handing them to him.
An hour later, Sam sat in a chair with a towel wrapped around his upper half of his body and newspaper all around him. Santana had a pair of hair cutting scissors. They were a little dull, but they'd do the trick.
A half an hour later, blonde hair scattered across the business section. His hair was much shorter than Santana expected it to be. Much shorter than it had been in a long time.
"You're done," she said.
He ran his hair through it slowly, taking in how much was gone. "It's short," was all he said. "Let me see."
Santana grabbed the mirror, but hesitated to give it to him. "You can't be mad at me," she said.
He just looked at her, and extended his hand. She sighed and handed it over. He slowly looked at the mirror. He just stared for a minute or so at it in silence. Santana bit the side of her lip, waiting for him to freak out at how short it really is. Finally, he put the mirror on the ground, stood up and hugged Santana.
"It's alright," he said. "At least it's even." He let go of her and smiled brightly. "It'll just take some getting used to." He kissed her on the cheek gently. Then, he looked down at his hair and the newspaper. "Guess we better clean that up."
Santana woke up in the middle of the night. It wasn't unusual. In fact, most nights she got up at around two am. Some nights, she was only awake for a few minutes before falling back asleep. Other nights, she just had to stare at the ceiling until she could sleep again.
This was a stare-at-the-ceiling kind of night.
She sighed and started to think about nothing in particular. She almost wanted to get up and leave the apartment and go for a walk to calm her mind down. Her brain was racing, but no actual thoughts were coming to her head.
Through the thin wall, she could hear Sam moving in his sleep. People always turn in their sleep. That was normal. But he seemed to keep moving. No one was with Sam. She could just tell he was actually asleep. She heard a half-conscious groan. Not a mumble, or something normal. Like he were in pain. For a moment, everything seemed to stop. The moving. The groaning. Maybe even breathing for a moment. Then, the groan got a little louder, almost a yell.
Santana started to get really worried. She jumped out of bed and left her room quickly, turning and opening his door.
She could see the side of his face. He looked terrified, even in his sleep. She nearly sprinted over to his bed and sat next to him.
"Sam," she said. He didn't respond. She gripped her hand to his shoulder and shook him a bit. "Sam!" His eyes snapped open and he drew in a shaky breath. "The nightmares are back again, aren't they?" He nodded a bit. She placed her hand soothingly on his cheek. "It's okay. It was just a dream."
She leaned down and kissed his forehead gently and started to stand up to go back to her room. He grabbed her wrist and she looked back at him. "No," he said, his voice cracking a bit. "Please. Stay with me." She nodded slightly, then laid down next to him.
"I'm here," she whispered.
They stared up at his ceiling. At the glow-in-the-dark stars that were astronomically correct. They talked a little. They fell asleep holding hands, like they always did when they fell asleep together. The nightmares were gone. Sam liked to think that Santana was so much of a bitch to everyone (besides him and Brittany) that she scared away the bad dreams.
"What kind of cereal do you want, Samuel?" Santana asked him, pushing the cart into the aisle.
He laughed a bit and pulled the Frosted Flakes off the shelf and tossed them into their half-full cart. They seemed like unconventional shoppers, seeing as the first things people would see would be the Fruit Roll-Ups, frozen burgers, family-sized bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, two loaves of Wonder Bread (because Sam seemed to like to just eat slices of it), and three cartons of ice cream. But they did have healthy things. Protein shake was near the bottom, and they had a ton of fruit in the baby seat.
"You know my name isn't Samuel?" he asked her. Her eyebrow raised. "It's Samson."
Santana nodded a bit. "Huh," she remarked in surprise. She started to sprint down the aisle with the cart. "Next stop: Frozen Dinners!"
Sam laughed and followed her.
Brittany moved in with them. They celebrated.
Sam almost moved out to find his own place. He felt as if he were imposing on Santana and Brittany.
They quickly found that they can't survive without Sam's help. He bought the food and the towels and all of the important stuff.
They wouldn't last a week. And all three of them were okay with that.
New York issues gay marriages. Ohio won't even acknowledge it. But Brittany and Santana didn't need the government to understand. All they cared about was love.
Sam sat across from Brittany and Santana, leaning forward, looking down at the floor, his hands clasped together. He was trying to think through this logically. This was a huge thing to think about.
"You want my sperm," he repeated after them. The girls just nodded. He looked up at them. Santana had a straight face on, no emotion on her face. Brittany had her usual, blank smile.
"Your babies would look like my babies since we look alike," said Brittany.
"I'd only trust your sperm in me," said Santana.
Santana Lopez was inseminated. Sam promised to be there for the baby, but not be a father. Brittany would be the other parent. That was the plan.
Sam would be Uncle Sammy to the little boy or girl.
Brittany was working. Santana and Sam were bored. They decided to go see a movie. Both had seen it at least twice before. They were almost alone in the theatre. Yet, they actually watched it instead of making commentary and throwing popcorn at the screen.
After the movie, they got out to the parking lot. They both walked over to the Drivers side.
"Oh, no," said Sam. "You're not driving. Not in your condition."
"Sam," she said, her hand going to her waist as she shifted her weight. "I'm barely three months along. People think I'm just pudgy. Just let me drive."
"I'm driving," he said. He held up the keys and dangled them, the sound of the keys tinkling together echoed across the empty lot. She reached for them, but he pulled them from her reach.
"Please?"
"No."
This went on for a good five minutes before Sam finally gave in and let her drive. She felt really proud. He just laughed as he sat down in the passenger seat.
"Don't look so smug, San," he said.
They drove in near silence, the radio playing softly.
The song switched. Sam smiled a bit and turned up the radio and started to sing along. Santana smiled, too, and sang a long, a bit louder. They weren't worried about quality, though both were singers. They were just having fun.
"You make my dreams come true!"
That was the last thing they sang before a jeep Cherokee seemed to come from nowhere at sixty miles an hour. It slammed right into the side of their car. Sam's side.
It felt like slow motion. The glass shattering. The metal of the cars groaning as they collided. The sound of Sam's cry as the Airbag was too crushed to activate. Santana could hear a woman scream his name.
"Sam!"
It wasn't until after that she realized it was her own voice.
She heard the jeep's driver get out of the car. "Oh, shit." It was a man. Then she heard footsteps running away. The person who caused this whole mess was running.
She tried looking over at Sam to see if he was okay, but her head was unable to move.
"Help!" Santana cried, unable to free herself. "Someone, please! Help!" She was afraid that no one was around, or no one could hear her.
"I'm here," said a woman, a few yards away. "I'm calling the police and hospital."
"Thank you." Santana wasn't even sure if she said it or not. It was the last thing she could do before passing out.
When Santana woke up, she was hooked up to a bunch of monitors and she had at least three needles in her arms. She looked around at the hospital room.
"You're awake," sighed Brittany beside her. "They told me to leave a bunch of times, but I couldn't. Not until I knew you're okay."
She stared at Brittany for a long time. She put her hand to her stomach. "The baby?"
"It's fine," said Brittany. Her blank smile seemed more blank than usual. There was something Brittany wasn't saying. Santana had to think about what had happened.
The argument. The song. The crash. Sam.
"Sam!" Santana said. She sat up a little straighter. "Where is Sam?" Brittany's smile faded and she looked at Santana with deep, sad eyes. She took Santana's hand. "Brittany, where is Sam?" She heard her voice cracking. She needed to know the answer.
"He didn't make it," Brittany whispered. Brittany closed her eyes in attempt to hold back her tears. Santana couldn't even to that. She felt her breath catch in her throat and her heart stop.
"He's gone?" she asked. "Sam is gone?" Her voice broke completely and she felt the tears fall easily.
Her best friend was gone. The only guy she felt like she could trust was gone. Sam was gone.
Santana clutched Brittany's hand tightly and cried for a long time. She wasn't sure how long.
The doctor told her that her neck was sprained and she had a broken leg. The fact that she and the baby was a real miracle. But it wasn't that much of a miracle, because not everyone made it.
The jeep driver, a man by the name of Evan Simple, was found and tried for Vehicular Manslaughter. He was sentenced to fifteen years of prison with no chance of early release. He wrote a letter to Santana explaining how he ran because he was afraid; that it was an accident.
Santana didn't even read it.
Six months after, Santana gave birth to a daughter.
"Let's name her Samantha," Brittany suggested.
Looking at Samantha never made Santana sad. Not even once. She was so much like him, it was like he was still around. She was a reminder.
I loved you first.