AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey, everyone! I'm so glad you've decided to check out this fic, but there's a few things you need to know before you start reading.

Firstly, it's set during and after Sue's sister's funeral, and I haven't really decided whether it'll run into Nationals or not. As far as I'm concerned, the show didn't make it clear how much time passed between each episode, so it gives me free reign to judge.

This is my first fiction in a while, and I'm trying to get back into the groove, so bear with me, people! But, by all means, review! It's always much appreciated. And now, I'm going to stop rambling, so you can read. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: No, I don't own Glee. Or Sam. Or Quinn. Or Dianna or Chord, but I really wish I did.

Silence seemed to plague all of Lima after the participants of Jean Sylvester's funeral began to disperse. At first, upon seeing the sorrow in both his parents' and siblings' faces, Sam was certain the quiet would remain until he had returned home, a thought that was depressing at best. That is, until a thud shook the air and the flutter of feathers it evoked caused most everyone out of their cars to glance up. An oceanic blue gaze watched in total bewilderment as Quinn Fabray fled the scene, her face undeniably flushed under her fair hair. Fear instantaneously gushed through Sam's veins as he followed the girl with his eyes, almost positive her reckless pace would land her a skinned knee on the pavement. Thankfully, she seemed to have mastered the art of fighting gravity - probably from all those Cheerios practices - because she disappeared further into the mass of cars unscathed. When she was out of eyesight, Sam threw his gaze back at the vehicle she had ran from only to realize she had been leaving behind a thoroughly redfaced Finn Hudson.

Despite himself, rage began to fuel his motives, and Sam found himself sliding the door of his father's dingy mini van closed, earning a shout of protest from his mother seated within. Before he could pause and think about how to proceed, Sam was heading over to Finn's car, which hadn't moved since Quinn deserted it. The other's boy head had vanished behind the windshield, but his hair was faintly visible, signaling he'd rested his head on the steering wheel. An unknown and frankly terrifying part of Sam willed the airbag to go off, so the kid could receive the punch he deserved for whatever he'd done.

Knuckles were suddenly wrapping across the passenger's window, and Sam wasn't surprised to see that he had caught Finn off guard. His fellow football player immediately went on the alert, jerking up from the wheel and whipping his head in Sam's direction. With a familiar look of dull confusion, Finn leaned over and pressed the button to make the window sink. Not until it was completely down did he choose to speak.

"Sam?"

Of course, Sam had no idea how he was supposed to advance in this situation, having acted on impulse and not given his actions the thought they were due. A frown touched his lips because that certainly wasn't healthy and neither was the small yet dominant part of him that willed him to punch the other boy's face in. Fighting back the urge, he managed to grind out the first question that came to mind.

"What did you do?"

Finn blinked, stalled for a second, and then promptly looked resigned.

"You saw that then?"

"Damn right, I saw that." His voice fell out harsher than he had originally intended, but Sam didn't lessen the ferocity in his gaze one bit.

Appearing dazed as usual, the quarterback shook his head, running a large hand through his hair. He obviously didn't realize Sam wasn't simply asking, he was demanding. "I don't want to talk about it, man. I-I'll see you in Glee Club."

It looked as if Finn was about to roll the window back up when Sam, surprising even himself, jerked the door open and slid into the empty seat, slamming it hard behind him. "You cannot keep doing this," he growled out then, making sure no ounce of the shock he felt for himself appeared on his face. "You cannot keep screwing everyone over like this, Finn."

Deep mahogany eyes full of disbelief, Finn, in an attempt to make his presence larger, scooted up in his seat and raised his voice. "Look Sam, I don't what you're trying -"

"Oh, shut up." came Sam's answer, and he simply couldn't help but look as appalled as he was. But, the words were flowing, and he knew he just needed to let them. From the total astonishment scrawled across Finn's face, Sam knew he had to do something to defuse the tension, so he sat forward, his forehead almost brushing the other boy's. Unsurprisingly, Finn flinched back.

"I love you, man. You helped me when I first came to WMHS and introduced me to the Glee Club and inevitably people I've also grown to love." He shrugged his broad shoulders and brushed his bangs out of his eyes, shaking his head when Finn looked as if he was about to interrupt. "I said shut up, Finn. Look, man. Just because I love you doesn't really make a difference, though. Because trust me when I say that I'm the only one who loves you. You've been tearing up those girls, making them think the other's better than them and having all those insecure girly feelings I can't even begin to understand." He paused for a breath and gauged the frown that was spreading across Finn's face. "But, they stand to reason because I don't know too much about girls what with the all boys boarding school thing, but I do know they're a lot tougher than us. Mentally, you know? But, these mind games, man. It's like you think you can do whatever you want to them. Go back to the other because they're vulnerable for you. Let me tell you right now that if you ever try to get back with Quinn, I will beat you to a pulp no matter how much I love you." He crossed his arms over his chest. "And you know I can, because the only reason you got quarterback was because I threw my arm out. And believe me, I'm getting it back this year. So, back off."

A stunned silence hung between the two boys, and Finn had fixated his eyes on a speck of dirt on the window behind Sam. He looked so vulnerable suddenly, the muscles in his jaw twitching and his eyebrows furrowed... When it became apparent that he wasn't going to be the one to speak first, Sam heaved a sigh. "Dude, thanks for your clothes, and all of the help you guys have given me and my family to get back on our feet. I love you, and if you'd stop all of this crap, maybe the rest of Glee would, too. Not to pull a Rachel or anything, but I'm going to hug you now."

As he leaned forward, the brief fragility on Finn's face vanished to Sam's disappointment, and the boy's face hardened as he jumped away from his arms. "You think you get to tell me all this? You're on the outside looking in, man! Just. Get the hell out of my car."

Sam raised his hands. If he was anything, he definitely was accepting of other people's emotional boundaries. "Think about what I said, Finn." He proceeded to open the door and get out before suddenly leaning in through the still open window. "I got out of your car, man. But, you need to get over yourself."

Before the other boy could respond, Sam had shut the door and started walking back over to where the mini van remained parked, his mother peeking her head out of the door.

"Where you thanking Finn for his clothes?" she asked cheerfully as he climbed into the back of the vehicle, dodging his brother and sister as they played tug-of-war with one of Kurt's ties.

"I did actually," Sam admitted, pulling the seat belt over his chest and glancing out of the rear view mirror. Finn's car still hadn't moved. "Maybe one day he'll be thankful too."


A yellow cardigan was tied fashionably at the ends around one of her typical blouses, a gray skirt just barely brushing the middle of her thighs. Sam couldn't stop staring as he watched the girl enter the room, a deep breath racking his chest as he took all of her in.

He loved her jaw, the way it made her face more prominent and how sometimes she would lift it up in some sort of defiant gesture. When they'd been dating, the first thing he had wanted to do was to kiss it, along with her neck... Her collar bone. At the time, she'd said it tickled and had giggled the whole way through.

The thought evoked a burst of butterflies in his stomach, but he couldn't bring himself to stop looking.

And then there were her eyes, those pools of hazel. They had been what he had first saw, what had initially caught his attention. No one knew who Quinn Fabray was, not him and he was almost positive not even herself. But, sometimes, if you managed to get close enough, you would realize how much of her was sitting right there, behind those gorgeous orbs. The hurt, the heartbreak, the need to conquer those very emotions... That had been what drew him in, but later he'd seen the happiness, the humor, and the heart. That had been what kept him.

"Your lips are big, but I doubt they can hold all of that drool, Evans."

Sam's shoulders released a tension he hadn't been aware he'd been holding as he looked up at Santana Lopez. Alarm must have been all over his face, because she threw her head back and laughed.

"Yes, you were that obvious."

"I don't know what -" Before Sam could reply, however, something else had caught his attention. Finn was walking into Glee with at least three different text books in his arms, and it wouldn't have been too offbeat, if it hadn't been him. The boy hardly stopped playing COD enough to sleep, nevermind study, and plus, Rachel was taking her quick purposeful strides into the room alongside him. Sam noted duly that even she seemed on edge, casting thoughtful looks toward the piano where Quinn stood, talking idly with Brittany. The girl seemed to have turned off everything around her, but Sam could see - though faintly - a hint of red beginning to touch her cheeks. Her jaw was clenched.

"I'm going to kill him," Sam found himself saying, his fists clenched on either side of the chair he was seated in. Heart thundering in his chest, he couldn't imagine a time where he had ever felt like this before. Like, he genuinely wanted to hurt someone. The thought of his fist meeting the football captain's jaw was almost elating.

Santana was sitting on the bleacher above him and quirked her eyebrow, throwing glances Brittany's way. "Hm? Oh, Finn?" She snorted with contempt. "Calm down, lady lips, he's just putting the moves on Berry, which was to be expected. Quinn can handle it. You did the same thing with me when you dumped her, remember?"

As he glared over at Finn, he wasn't sure if anything could stop him from throttling the other boy. That is, anything besides guilt, because as soon as it showed it's ugly head and Santana promptly slapped him across the face with it... It was more like he wanted to throttle himself. Contemplation was evident across his face as he tried to get his thoughts together.

"He just treats her so badly..." Sam finally replied, returning his gaze to the blond across the room.

"And you'd treat her better?"

That was a question he had never asked himself, and Sam glanced up at the other girl. She had stopped leering at Brittany and had given him her full attention, expression more serious than he had ever seen it.

"Yeah. I would."

Santana seemed to chew this over until finally she stood up, albeit a bit jerkily. "Okay, then. Sit over there." She pointed to the seat next to her.

"But, why? -"

"Just do it, Sam."

With a suspicious narrowing of his eyes, Sam quickly transferred himself and his supplies to the seat she had indicated. Just as fleetingly, Santana had jumped down the bleacher and into his seat, leaning backwards so that her elbow rested atop the flat part of the chair next to him.

"Quinn's going to sit here," she informed him.

"Wait, what?"

"Calm your tits, Samantha. It's not like you haven't sat by her before. Hell, it's not like you haven't done whatever you two did together. Which, frankly, it grosses me out a little to think about."

"We only made out!" scowled Sam as the bell rang. The second it did, his nerves were shot, and he must have looked pale, because Santana grinned at him diabolically with her perfect teeth.

Everybody hastened to get a seat, and when everyone but Quinn had found one, Santana removed her elbow.

The girl appeared a bit dazed for a minute as she took in the full bleachers, save for that one little seat beside Sam. She didn't let it stall her for too long, though, and Quinn promptly made her way over and parked it, giving a tiny nod of greeting to Santana.

God, Sam could just smell the body spray wafting off of her. Strawberries...

"Good afternoon, class!" said Mr. Schuester enthusiastically as he briskly entered the classroom. "Guess what? Nationals is coming up, and I know you're all excited..." Sam let himself phase out of his teacher's words and instead directed his blue gaze at the girl beside him. There wasn't much distance between the seats, and he let his sight fixate on her hand.

As if on cue, it fell to her side as she watched Mr. Schue, probably listening intently. Some part of him wanted to grab it and hold on to it, but Sam wasn't stupid, and he knew that'd probably only lead to rejection. Especially this soon after her breakup with Finn.

"...Now we decided we were going to write original songs, so..." Her hand was just dangling there... She had to have done it on purpose, because the other one was still there in her lap! She had to. He cut his gaze back and forth between his teacher and Quinn, an internal war waging within him.

Without further ado, he let his hand fall to the side of his seat clumsily and accidentally brushed it against hers.

Electricity swept through Sam, and he was sure she could hear his intake of breath as blood rose to his cheeks. The touch seemed to have shattered Quinn's concentration, too, because suddenly she was subtly eyeing him.

"...But, the songs still haven't been written, and Artie's suggested..."

She'd returned to watching Mr. Schuester, and Sam was left to dwell on the touch without her observing him. That had been magic. How could just tapping someone's hand have had such an affect over him? The urge to do a somersault, a cartwheel, start dancing, or simply fist pump was gushing through him, and his heartbeat quickened.

Biting his lip, Sam knew if he could just do it again then he would be good. Then he could go back to ignoring the way he felt and definitely not calling out Finn or staring at this girl all the time. Yeah, that would be good. His heart hammered as he leaned to the side a little, and suddenly his hand was brushing against hers. Butterflies erupted in his stomach, and he fought an oncoming wave of goosebumps.

"...So, this is your assignment for the week..."

Her hand didn't pull away as his own brushed over hers, though he could sense her glancing repeatedly over at him... Sam couldn't help it, though, as he let the back of his fingers glide over her own, wanting so desperately to hold her hand... And then, maybe... Was that a twitch? His eyes actually turned from Mr. Schue and looked at their hands... He could have sworn he'd felt her brush back... And then there it was again... His body was on live wire as he felt the back of her hand graze the very tips of his fingers.

"...And that's the end of our announcements."

Sam could have jumped Mr. Schuester for shutting up, since the instant he did, Quinn had pulled her hand away to check the time on her watch. Sam's own hand, suddenly feeling very alone, found its way back to his lap as he tugged at the edge of his shirt thoughtfully. What had just happened?


As the day drew to a close, Sam found himself sauntering at a deliberately slow pace down the entrance hall, his heart giving a tiny tug as his eyes discovered the great, wooden door to the guidance counselor's office. Something within him propelled him forward, peering in through the glass walls thoughtfully, before he finally made his way over and knocked on the door. The second he did, however, Emma had swung it open and blinked at him. "Sam?"

"I... Were you leaving? I can come back another time." He itched to turn on his heel and walk away.

"No, well... Glee's over for the day, and Mr. Schuester and I... No, Sam. Come right in. What did you need?" With a forced expression full of cheer, she sidestepped so that Sam could clammer into the tiny office. The scent of wood finishing practically radiated off of her desk as he entered, and Sam, for the life of him, couldn't wrap his head around how she kept it so clean.

"Well... Uh. Thanks." The words slipped out awkwardly as Sam entered and took the seat parallel to the desk, Emma drifting behind it as he did. "Miss Pillsbury... I, uh... I think I need help. I know you don't do therapy, but -"

"You're right, Sam, I don't." she responded evenly before concern flashed across her face at what must have been a troubled look on his part.

"But, I'm homeless, and I can't afford it, so..." Bluntness was his friend as Sam mustered a grin he didn't necessarily feel, the joke wafting into the air between them. She didn't laugh, nor did he expect her to.

In that attentive way of hers, the woman blinked, surprise evident across the plains of her face, and adjusted a pen on her desk. "Oh, I heard -" she had said before looking simply appalled at herself and backpedaling speedily. "I mean, the Glee Club knows, and..."

"It's okay, ma'am," Sam sighed resolutely, politeness never failing him. Back at his old boarding school, one was always expected to address a woman even nearly his senior as such, a habit he hadn't quite fallen out of yet. "Just about half the school knows now."

"Right," Miss Pillsbury looked physically agitated as she continued, regret pulling in those deep doe's eyes of hers. "Well, I have to say I was expecting a visit from you regarding this matter, Sam. Do you want to talk about your home situation?"

Sam frowned at the question and promptly fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket. "Actually, no. I'm kind of at ease with that. Got my guitar back, and my parents are starting to get back on their feet with Glee's help. It makes my little brother Stevie feel like a super hero. Because, you know, all super heroes have bad times before it gets good."

The ghost of a smile touched the redheaded lady's lips as she nodded to him. "That's all so very good, Sam, and I'm happy for you. But, not to be rude, then why have you come to talk to me?"

Faltering, he couldn't manage to lift his gaze enough to meet hers, eyes glued to the sleeve he was still playing with, the flat of his thumb running across the rough material. Of course, he had been aware before entering that this was going to be a difficult situation, putting everything he felt out there, but he hadn't expected his words to simply desert him. "I... er... I've been acting differently, I suppose. Like, I've been more and more aggressive, and sometimes I just want to take it out on someone else... physically. But, it's not for good reasons, you know? More for my own... bad... reasons."

Inclining her head concernedly, Miss Pillsbury straightened her cardigan and swept a hand through her wavy, auburn hair. "Can you give me an example, Sam?"

At the question, Sam instantly perked up, his eyes alive with past fury. "Yeah, I can, actually. Yesterday, at the funeral, Finn just made me so mad. I lost it for a minute, I think, and I was saying all of these things you're not supposed to say. You know the stuff that you want to but you keep hidden anyways? But, it was the truth... I mean, I know it's disrespectful to toss around your own crap after a funeral, but everything was so sad and broken, I couldn't take it. Then today in Glee Club, Santana practically had to guilt trip me to keep me from smashing his face in."

Contemplative as ever, Emma let her gaze tear across the boy for a minute, and he could practically see that mind of hers analyzing everything he'd just said. Frankly, she didn't appear as surprised as he would have thought. "Was it because of the funeral that you became angry?"

"Would it make me a selfish person if I said no?"

"You're one of the least selfish people I've encountered, Sam."

Chewing that over for a moment, Sam finally expelled a breath of frustration and told her before he could change his mind about it. "There's this girl -"

"Quinn?"

Large blue eyes blinked at her as Sam wondered just how apparent it was that he still wanted the girl.

As if to answer, Miss Pillsbury gave a tiny smile that made her eyes light up. "She's a beautiful girl. And you didn't get to finish what you started with her. It stands to reason that she'd be on your mind."

Bottom row of teeth capturing his lip, Sam nodded quietly, his entirety suddenly itching with how exposed he felt behind the glass walls. "Yeah... Well, Finn said something - he must have. But it made her cry. I couldn't help but get upset, Miss P. It just felt like my head was going to explode if I didn't do something. I mean, the pure injustice of the situation was just shocking. He steals her from me and then treats her like garbage, hurts her worse than most physical pain." Sam's hand moved from his sleeve to rest over his heart, and he was surprised to see Emma lean over the desk and move it to the other side of his chest to correct him. When she had seated herself again, her eyes prompted him to continue. "I mean, if he had taken proper care of her... It's as if she goes for people that she knows won't care about her. And I do. So much, it's scary."

A smile had planted itself across Emma's face at his words, and after a moment, she realized and let it convert to a serious frowns. "Well, I certainly understand what you mean, Sam. When a certain someone goes after all the wrong people -"

"Like, Mister Schue?"

The stare he received was enough answer for him, and Sam fought off a tiny grin that threatened to plaster his face, dialing it back a notch. "I'm sorry, Miss. P. I didn't know it wasn't something we could talk about. I'll shut up."

"It's quite all right. I mean, there's nothing to talk about."

"Really?" Sam appeared startled, and he could barely withhold his chuckle when Emma abruptly cleared her throat.

"Let's keep talking about Quinn, shall we?" she said, the name evoking a whirlwind of emotions in the blond boy. "So, we've established that you want her back. What did you say to Finn at the funeral?"

"Yeah, I guess I kind of do. Oh, and I told him that if he ever tried to lure her back, I was going to kick his ass."

"Language."

"I'm sorry."

Miss Pillsbury thought for a moment, a tiny line appearing between her arched brows. "Well, don't you think you're behaving a little immaturely?"

"What?" Sam was absolutely astounded by the lack of logic in that question. "Miss Pillsbury, he keeps breaking her heart!"

"Exactly, Sam. It's her heart. She should be able to do what she likes with it without your trying to dictate who she can and can't feel for. By saying those things to Finn, you were doing just that. Even moreover, you were acting on petty jealousy."

He stared at her, trying to find even an ounce of falsehood in her statement. And failed. She was so right that it stung more than he could have ever imagined. What was he doing? "I just want her to be loved. By somebody that deserves her." he finally replied, eyes cast downward with embarrassment.

"Do you deserve her, Sam?"

"I don't know."


Living in a motel with your siblings and parents obviously didn't warrant much privacy, so whenever Sam could allow himself the time, he would disappear into their shabby, little bathroom with his guitar. Of course, he could play it around his brother and sister as well, but when he was really practicing, letting himself actually feel the music as he strummed it, he could spare no distractions.

The acoustics in the small expanse were shit, and to his credit he was dealing with it quite graciously. Better this than underneath a bridge, right? Well, that's when a knock sounded on the door outside of the bathroom, and at first, Sam was prepared to ignore it since he thought it was probably just Stevie wanting to use the toilet. But, after hearing a rush of air as a different door swung open, he realized someone had actually knocked outside of the motel, and he put his guitar down, resting it in the tiny nook between the counter and the toilet. Before he had managed to leave the bathroom and see who it was, a voice sounded in the room outside, and his pulse immediately quickened. Not just a voice, but her voice.

It was a surprise because ever since the rumor between them had gone down and Finn had had his little hissy fit, the girl had taken to staying away from the Evans family, something that had truly troubled his younger siblings - who adored her - for a while. At first, Sam had figured that he'd offended her, but since she was avoiding him in Glee as well, he could only pin it down to her trying to please Finn.

"Quinnie!" sounded his sister's voice, and Sam could feel a smile tugging at his lips as he heard an "oof" of response, and he could only imagine that the little girl had launched herself into Quinn's arms.

"Hey, Stace," she replied in a tone of pure affection, one that Sam had only heard a handful of times in all of the time that he'd known her. Only once had she directed it at him, and that had been only hours before he broke up with her... When she and Finn had been together, Sam had noticed that she took a sort of mock version of said tone with him when she was feeding him compliments to make him feel better about himself. Now it was real. "Gorgeous girl, what are you wearing? Pink and green, oh no. We'll have to fix this, but hey, I brought some of me and Frannie's old clothes over for you."

"Wow, thanks, Quinn!"

"It's no problem," There was enough of a smile in her voice that Sam found himself practically beaming at the wall.

"Quinn!" came his brother Stevie's voice as he listened behind the door.

"Stevie! How's my big man?"

"I'm real good, Quinn. But better than your bigger man."

An air of confusion. "My bigger man?"

"Yeah, he's been moping around, playing the guitar, and watching Lifetime. I think that means he's depressed."

There was a brief pause, and Sam let himself lean against the door to hear.

"Sam... Sam's not my man." There was an evident blush in her voice, and the blond found himself reveling once again in how different she was around these kids.

"Of course, he is." answered Stevie, and Sam could have hugged the little guy.

"You're always looking at him, Quinnie. When you don't think he can see. But, we can see." came his sister's voice, and the football player knew he'd have to play them something special tonight.

"I..."

Afraid he'd miss whatever she was going to say next, Sam leaned hard into the door, and suddenly the cheap lock gave way, swinging open under his weight. Before he knew what was happening, he had fallen onto the mattress beside it, his face instantly becoming a lovely shade of crimson. With a strangled sound, he scrambled back to his feet in time to see an appalled Quinn, and his heart thundered so wildly in his chest he thought it just might pop out.

"'Eoi 'awstengyem?" The words slipped right out of his lips, and he could feel them - even his brother and sister - staring at him in a stunned silence. Clapping his hand to his face, Sam could hardly believe what he had just said, but thankfully no one here besides him was adept in Na'vi because he was quite certain he had just asked Quinn to marry him.

"Oh. Er, hi. I didn't hear you come in... And stuff."

Quinn stared at him for a moment before apparently, to his everlasting gratitude, deciding to ignore what had just happened. "Right. Well, I haven't been over in a while, and I missed these guys..."

"You missed me most," stated Stevie, which thusly marked the beginning of a tickle fight as Stacey tackled him to the mattress.

"She missed me most!"

Watching them with a faint smile, the girl played with her fair curls, and Sam so desperately wished he could just lean forward and run his hand through them too. "I was wondering if I could maybe take these two out for icecream if that's okay? I mean, it's up to you, Sam. You're the boss."

"I'm the boss!" giggled Stevie as he proceeded to rack thunderous fits of laughter from his sister.

With a blink, Sam was wringing his hands together nervously. "Uh, sure. I-I'll go, too. Mom and Dad wouldn't be happy if I didn't... So, there's... reasons... for me to go."

"Of course."

"Well, um, I'll just grab my jacket. Do you need anything, Quinn?"

"Nope. Just you."

He blinked.

"And them. Yeah, them... Not just you. Go get your jacket, Sam."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, wow, that was pretty bad. Hopefully, my writing will get better as the story progresses, since I've been really out of it lately. Anyways, if you want me to continue this, please review! And I'll post up new chapters as soon as I write them.