Title: Summertime
Genre: Friendship/Fluff
Word Count: ~2800
Pairing: Artie/Sam
Summary: Six-year-old Artie Abrams makes friends with Sam Evans on a summer's day and they pinky swear to be best friends for ever.
Author's Note: Sartie Week is upon us! This is the first of the seven fics I'll be delivering to you all during these amazing seven days of Sartie. Also just so you know all of my Sartie fics include bi!Artie and gay!Sam.
If you want to follow more of the action you can visit "sartieweek" on tumblr and check out some amazing Sartie goodness.
May the force be with you!
It was tradition in the Abrams family to take a road trip down to the beach exactly four days before summer vacation ended. At least, that's what Catherine and Jerry decided when they saw how much fun their boy had had the last two times they went. Young Artie loved the beach - the smell of the air, the feel of the sand between his toes, the thrill you got when you swam just a little further out than you were supposed to. He loved it all.
This year Artie was six and a half - practically grown up and ready to take on this beach like he never had before. This made him extra squirmy when his dad insisted on putting another layer of sunscreen on his back.
"It's fine, Dad, can I go in now?" Artie begged. "Please?"
His dad chuckled fondly. "I'm not taking any risks this year, son - not after I came home with a lobster instead of a boy last time!"
He tickled Artie who cackled then took the sunscreen a little more happily - remembering the painful life of a lobster that he'd led for most of the previous summer.
Finally a few long minutes later, Artie was up and raring to go when,
"Excuse me?" a woman's voice came from behind them.
Artie turned around to see a blonde woman with a matching blond man and child standing with her.
She gestured to the sand between them and another group on the crowded beach. "Is there anyone sitting here?"
Artie's dad smiled and shook his head. "All yours."
The woman thanked him and her husband starting rolling out the beach towels.
The little boy, however, was distracted by something. He marched over to Artie and pointed, demanding, "Is that a Pokemon towel?"
Artie grinned broadly. "Yup!" he said with pride, scooting over to fully reveal the Gengar he'd been standing on.
The blond boy seemed impressed with this choice. "I'm Sam!"
"Sam I am!" Artie echoed with a grin.
A look of total awe crossed Sam's face, as if he'd never made that connection before. "And I don't like green eggs and ham!" he cried joyfully, swearing to introduce himself like that forever more. "Does your name have a rhyme?"
"Only the kids who call me Farty-Artie at school," he admitted, head bowed in embarrassment.
Sam, a sucker for fart jokes, appreciated the quality of the nickname, but didn't laugh because the other boy looked so upset. "Well, I like your towel," he added awkwardly yet kindly, trying desperately to get the sadness out of those eyes.
Artie at once flashed him a grin. "Thanks! Gengar is my favourite."
Sam scoffed. "Not as cool as Blastoise."
Artie opened his mouth to retort, but his mother stopped him, knowing that when her son got on a roll he really couldn't be stopped.
"How about you two boys go for a swim?"
Sam looked up at his parents questioningly, and they nodded with their permission.
"LAST ONE THERE'S A ROTTEN EGG!" Artie wailed, kicking up sand everywhere as he ran, limbs flailing everywhere. Sam followed desperately, not wanting to have to bear the shame of being the rotten egg. They reached the water, burning cold at their ankles, together, bounded over the waves, and dived in.
They surfaced and exchanged a look of total horror, screaming at the icy, numbing cold they'd just dunked themselves into. They cracked up at the looks on each other's faces and for a while jumped around in pain, before getting used to the temperature.
Sam was sweeping the water around with his arms, yelling about making a whirlpool, and Artie tried to join in but he wasn't wearing his glasses so he ended up whacking Sam on the back of the head.
Sam fell back into the water in surprise, and as he re-emerged from the water Artie braced himself for some sort of cruel retaliation. Other kids weren't usually this nice to Artie, whose best friends were ones he found in movies or books or made up himself. No one really wanted to be friends with Smartie-Pants Farty Artie, and he knew it was too good to be true that someone so instantly took a liking to him. But as Sam stood up he just grinned at Artie, narrating in a strange voice. "Artie used flail! It was super effective!"
Artie gaped at him, then laughed widely and went to splash him again, but he'd barely moved when suddenly Sam had launched himself at Artie.
"SAM USED BODY SLAM!"
Artie was knocked underwater, totally bewildered. He floated to the surface and watched Sam chortle at him. "The wild Artie fainted!"
After some time when they could no longer ignore their shivering from the cold sea, they went to make sandcastles on the shore. Artie had an incredibly elaborate castle in mind, including a moat and a long strip of dug out sand to make a dam in front to stop it from getting ruined when the tide came in.
"You're so smart!" Sam gushed as they watched their castle stand as the other castles around them were swallowed up by waves.
"Am not!" Artie said defensively, far too used to being called that in a mocking way.
Sam looked confused. "Are too!" he tried again, smiling widely for good measure, and then laughing at the bashful grin that had now replaced the pout on Artie's face.
After another few moments of admiring their creation, Artie asked the tough question. "So when are we going to jump on it?"
Sam looked appalled. "No! We have to come back tomorrow to see if it's still here!"
Artie agreed, and they paced around the castle again, admiring the fine work they'd both put in.
Then Artie realised something.
"I can't see if it stays here tomorrow! We're going back to Ohio tonight."
"Ohio?" He knew that was a different state, and that meant that Artie lived really far away. Sam looked sad. "Well, I suppose we could just jump on it now, then."
But neither of them did.
They enjoyed their last few hours together, running out into the water again, swimming out past the second buoy (Artie had only been out to the first before) soaking up the sun and lamenting the looming doom of school starting again.
As the sun started setting (far too soon in both of their opinions) on the day, the two boys parted with a bittersweet goodbye, with Sam promising Artie that they'd see each other next summer.
The next year, 7 and a half, and ready to take on the beach more than ever, Artie and his family rolled up to the car park of their favourite beach. Exactly four days before summer finished.
Artie spent 20 minutes trying to remember exactly where they had set down their town the year before, in hope of finding his friend Sam again. He'd promised the year before that they'd be back, and Artie had made them leave extra early so there'd be no chance they missed him.
10 o'clock became 11, then 12, then 1. Artie sat on his Gengar towel, refusing to go anywhere else until Sam came.
At 3 o'clock hope had waned, and Artie began to suspect that Sam wasn't coming at all. He got up off his towel and sulked down to the water, splashing around miserably. This year hadn't been as unpleasant as the year before at school - people only made fun of him every other day rather than every day and he'd made some friends. But Artie couldn't help comparing all of them to the fabulous boy from the beach. None of them clicked with him like Sam did. And none of them seemed to like him as much as Sam did.
He sat down in the shallows, wondering if he'd made it all up in his head, when he heard a voice, quiet and distant, but slowly growing louder as it drew nearer, yelling something Artie couldn't quite make out.
He turned around just in time to hear "SAM USED BODY SLAM" before being knocked over into the water.
"Sam!" Artie yelled excitedly. "I thought you weren't coming!"
Sam shook his head. "I promised, didn't I?"
The rest of the day was spent like their first, happy and laughing and ridiculous. Sam had been making sandcastles all year, but none of them had been as good as the one with Artie, so he begged him to help him make one again. And again they watched as it stood where the others fell.
The sunset came even quicker than the year before, as many times as Sam had begged it not to fall.
The two of them lay on the sand, watching the stars begin to poke out of the sky, hoping their parents would continue having their boring conversations for as long as possible, and not remember that it was high time to leave.
"Simba," Sam said dramatically, imitating Mufasa from The Lion King's deep voice. "Look at the stars. The great kings of the past look down on us from those stars."
Sam would have gone on, he had the whole scene memorised. So whenever you feel alone, just remember that those kings will always be there to guide you. And so will I.
But Artie was laughing way too loudly and Sam kind of loved his laugh so he didn't interrupt.
Artie's laughter eventually died down, and Sam fiddled with the sand around him, tossing it around and letting it run through his fingers. Thinking. He punched Artie lightly in the shoulder to get his attention.
"Artie, do you have a best friend?"
Artie shook his head, despite certainly having someone in mind. "Nope."
Sam punched him in the arm again, harder this time.
"Ow!"
A giggle escaped Sam's mouth. "You're supposed to say me, stupid."
The younger boy laughed, still rubbing his arm. "Fine, you can be my stupid best friend."
Sam sat up, excitedly. "Really?"
Artie nodded. "Of course!"
"Forever?" Sam tried, knowing that best-friends-forever wasn't something you promised someone lightly.
"Forever," Artie answered. And they pinky-sweared, confirming the deal at the highest possible power.
Soon after, once again, it was time to leave.
"Don't be late next year!" Artie yelled from his car as they drove off, back to Ohio.
"I promise!" Sam called back from his own car as they drove opposite directions away.
That year, however, the week before Christmas, everything changed.
A car crash. A hospital bed. "You'll never walk again." Physical therapy. Steep ramps. Sore arms. Names at school. Staring strangers. "What's wrong with him?" What's wrong with me?
Artie Abrams was about as miserable as he could remember. He didn't even want to go to the beach four days before summer finished. He didn't want his parents taking him around, pretending things were normal. Because they weren't normal. He wasn't normal.
"Nothing will be ever normal again," he'd screamed at his parents one particularly bad night.
But the morning of the fourth last day of summer, Jerry and Catherine had piled Artie and all of their stuff into the car. Artie sulked the whole way there.
"Come on, honey," Catherine had urged. "Your friend Sam will be there!"
Artie froze. Sam. He'd forgotten about Sam. His friend whom he'd run and swam and built grand castles with.
He wasn't any good to Sam any more, he thought, and then felt more miserable than ever.
This year, Sam had made good on his promise to not be late. They rolled up in the carpark at the same time, Artie with his heart fluttering at how Sam would react to his new condition, Sam with a huge lopsided grin that now included all of his front teeth at the thought of seeing his annual best friend.
Jerry Abrams unloaded the car and helped his son transfer into his wheelchair. They rolled up to meet the Evans family in the middle of the car park.
"Hi, Artie!" Sam's mum smiled a little too widely, her greeting a little too happy, more than just a flash of pity in her eyes – something Artie was already becoming quite sick of.
He grumbled a hello back, still refusing to look at Sam.
His dad explained the car accident briefly because the question was obviously heavy on the lips of Sam's parents.
"Dude," Sam breathed in wonder.
Artie looked up, surprised by his tone, but still expecting to see some form of rejection or disappointment or repulsion or-
"You never told me you were a transformer!" Sam gushed, running around to fully inspect Artie's chair. He practically messed himself when he saw the lights Artie had on the back wheels.
A look of total awe crossed Artie's face, as if he'd never made that connection before.
The grown-ups chuckled, and moved over to the edge of the small car park to talk or something boring like that.
"So you're not… afraid?" Artie checked, swivelling to face Sam who was still examining the chair.
"No?" Sam replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"You don't think I'm a freak?"
"Nope!" Sam shook his head.
Artie sighed. "Most people do."
Misery flooded Artie's face – something Sam had decided he couldn't stand at all. It was hard to see Artie like this, but he figured that's not what Artie wanted to hear at all.
"Well I'm not most people!" Sam said then added, putting on a strange voice, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn!"
Artie laughed for what felt like the first time in such a long time, and Sam felt accomplished.
"I've been working on my impressions," Sam explained excitedly. "I can do Yoda now too!"
Jerry and Catherine heard the high pitched cackle from across the car park, exchanging watery smiles because it had been far too long since they'd heard their son laugh like that.
Artie didn't want to get sand all up in his wheels, so after asking very nicely their parents let them wander into town. Sam eagerly took Artie to the best hill to ride your bike down, and then he sat on his lap and they whizzed down together. Artie was sure his parents could hear him screaming from across town and was kind of worried they'd be annoyed at him for doing something so dangerous.
Then Sam took him into town and bought him a Transformers sticker he'd had his eye on for a while for Artie to stick on the back of his chair. Artie didn't think he'd ever gotten a better present.
Later, Sam showed him his house, not far from the beach, but there was a huge sign outside that read, 'For Sale.'
"You're moving?" Artie asked.
Sam nodded. "We're going out of state. Dad got a really cool new job."
"Will you ever come back here?" Artie found himself getting upset.
Sam shook his head. "Too far away," he mumbled.
There was a long silence.
"I suppose you'll miss your house," Artie said after some time. "And all your friends."
Sam gave a nod. "I'll miss you, too."
Artie bit his lip, before remembering something. "We're best friends forever, Sam. I'm sure we'll meet again someday."
Sam regained the bounce in his step. "Yeah!" he said excitedly. "Before you know it, I'll be back again!"
Artie gave an exaggerated sigh. "I just can't get rid of you, can I?"
Sam shoved him playfully and told him to shut up.
Artie nearly cried because no one shoved him anymore. Everyone treated him like he was some delicate piece of glass that'd break at any touch. But not Sam.
Slowly the day ticked away. And for a third time, the sun set, and the two boys bade their best friend goodbye.
Nearly nine years later, Artie started his sophomore year at school. Finn Hudson, his large friend, was rolling him down the halls, asking for his help convincing a new transfer student to join the glee club. But Artie had been called over by Mercedes for an emergency duet rehearsal before they found him.
Later Finn told Artie he hadn't been successful. That is, until a few weeks later, the new kid finally joined glee club.
"Hi everybody!" he'd waved as he jogged in happily. Artie noticed something familiar in those green eyes and that eager smile, but he couldn't quite place it.
"My name is Sam. Sam I am."
"No," Artie whispered, not able to believe it.
"And I do not like green eggs and ham."
"Sam?" Artie cried. "Is that you?"
Sam gaped. "A-a-artie?"
A look of total awe crossed their faces, neither able to believe they'd been at the same school for a good four weeks and hadn't made that connection before.
Sam launched himself at Artie, causing his chair which didn't have to brakes on, to spin out of control and knock a few people over.
Sam had Artie's face in his hands and he screamed, "I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S YOU."
Artie yelled incoherently in response, waving his arms around in hysteria. Sam gained the ability to talk long enough to gush about how he couldn't believe they found each other again.
Artie scoffed. "Ye of little faith! We pinky-sweared," he told Sam emphatically. "Remember?"
Sam nodded. "We were always going to find each other."
Stay tuned tomorrow for AU day! Feedback is more than appreciated. Thanks for reading!