Title: You've Got A Friend in Me
Category: Glee
Genre: Humor/Friendship
Ship: Rachel/Sam, hints of Puck/Rachel
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 8,576
Summary: "I don't know why you're here and I don't know how long you'll be here, but contrary to popular belief, I do care about others… And I will be here for you as long as you need me."
You've Got A Friend In Me
-1/1-
Things should not be cheery at motels. Especially the falling-apart, right out of the seventies, cheap as hell motel he was currently living in. And for the most part, they weren't. At nights, the guy in #204, on his left, could be heard sobbing. Sam didn't know why; it was mostly just incoherent crying and whining with the odd garbled 'fuck' or 'that bitch' tossed out. He tried banging on the wall the first few nights to, y'know, subtly tell the dude that his crying was keeping up others. And the guy would stop for like ten minutes, just enough time for Sam to almost fall asleep. But then he'd start up again and Sam would end up curling the pillow around his head and humming really loudly in hopes of drowning him out. If that wasn't enough, the woman in #206, on his right, liked to watch Spanish soap operas all day long. He didn't know if she had like, TiVo or whatever, or hell, maybe there was a Spanish channel he didn't know about, but he could hear the foreign drama through the paper thin walls. Seriously, he started talking in Spanish yesterday and he didn't even know what he was saying; but it went on for like an hour before one of the gleeks asked him if he was okay.
No. No he wasn't okay! His parents had kicked him out! Like, really. Okay, so there may have been some confusion. Like they might have said something along the lines of, "If you don't like how this house is run, you can leave!" and he took that as, "Get out!" But either way, he was living in a motel and they were back home at the two-story suburb that was looking really freakin' awesome right now. So no, things weren't anywhere near okay. The plumbing in this place sucked! And he didn't just mean that there wasn't very much hot water. He meant sometimes the water was brown, like rust. He hoped it was rust. Otherwise there was blood and he didn't want to think too much on the ramifications of that. He also maybe watched the Space channel late at night, to drown on Sobby McSoberson and Spanish McSoapOpera. And he maybe caught up on Grey's Anatomy on the weekends, but that was out of boredom and a lack of people to hang with. 'Cause apparently, being on the outs with his crazy kind-of lesbian girlfriend reminded him that he didn't have a whole lot of friends. Before Santana was Quinn and he mostly just spent his time with his girlfriend, so… He never really worked at making friends with the other gleeks. Now that he was sitting alone in a motel room, he realized just how lonely that was.
Anyway, the cheery knocking at his door threw him for a loop. It was this constant tap-tap-tap that he wasn't even sure regular human fists made against doors, but there it was. So, fed up with the cheeriness that was invading his doom and gloom, he finally walked over and yanked the door open, shouting, "What?" at the unsuspecting visitor that he assumed was the maid service that was the only good thing about the motel.
What he wasn't expecting was to find Rachel Berry staring back at him, her once cheery smile, to match her cheery knock, now fading. She blinked at him. "Um…" Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and plowed forward, "Hello Sam! I hope you won't find this to be an intrusion of privacy but I'd recently noticed your decline in hygiene and mood and took it upon myself to find out why…" She glanced away. "Which is why I followed you here to Wagon Hitch Motel, a rather unusual name, but nevertheless…" She held up her hands again, presenting him with a steaming casserole. "I thought you might be hungry, seeing as the facilities don't offer a stove and I imagine you've spent a large portion of whatever savings you might have on fast food." She raised her brows. "It's kugel."
He stared at her, partly because he wasn't sure how to react and partly because he thought maybe she was a mirage. He thought about reaching out and touching her to see if she'd just disappear but he was a little worried she might like, sue him for sexual harassment or something and he had like no money. So instead he just pushed the door open a little wider and shrugged. "Um, okay."
She smiled even brighter, like that was even possible, and literally skipped into his room. She put the kugel down on the table and produced a paper plate and a fork. "There you are." She motioned to the chair like she was inviting him to dinner.
Scratching the back of his neck, he closed the door and walked over, plopping down on the chair and dishing out some of the casserole. The smell was awesome and he could actually hear his stomach rumble. He was drooling by the time he stuck the first bite in his mouth and moaned as it like melted there on his tongue. "Holy sh— um, crap. Holy crap," he said, nodding. His mom, even if he wasn't talking to her, taught him never to swear around girls and he took her lessons to heart.
Hands clasped up against her chest, Rachel grinned at him. "It's good, isn't it?" She nodded like she didn't need him to reply. "I got the recipe off of Mrs. Puckerman. She's a fantastic cook!" Her eyes lit up. "In fact, she's the most beloved cook for all of our temple get-togethers. I'm their most beloved baker. Oh!" She bounced a little. "I'll have to bring you some cookies some time. You'll love them!"
He nodded; his mouth full. He was pretty sure he could finish off half the casserole and still not get enough. "'is 'o 'ood," he mumbled.
"Yes, well, that probably has something to do with the fact that you're likely been suffering nutritionally and while it might seem a great idea to subsist solely on junk food, it really isn't good for you. And seeing as you take such good care of your body, I'm sure it's revolted against the grease and MSG with fervor."
He had been feeling pretty queasy lately… He nodded, agreeing with her.
"So…" She cleared her throat and rested her hands on the table. "I can't help but wonder what it is that brought you here, Sam." She held up a hand before he could answer. "Please know that I won't share the happenings with anyone else and that while it might seem invasive of me to covertly follow you, I didn't mention to anybody else about my misgivings so nobody else in glee club knows that you've been living here." She took a deep breath and then let it out on a sigh. "That being said, I need to express my worry over your living situation and how long it may have been going on and that you didn't feel safe or comfortable enough to tell anybody in the club…" She stared up at him, her eyes big and wide and worried.
Licking his lips, and damn that kugel thing was seriously good, he finally sat back and shrugged. "Um, no offense, but… Who was I gonna tell?"
Her brows furrowed. "Well I suppose the boys would be the mostly likely for you to share your misfortune…. Or perhaps even Santana, since I believe you two are still engaged romantically…" Her nose wrinkled. "Or whatever it is she calls her relationships."
He half-smiled. "I'm not really friends with the guys. I mean… They're cool and they like… I think they like me, but… I mean, Finn was the only dude I really talked to and after… after Quinn…" He frowned. "I guess I picked the wrong gleek to trust, right?" He smiled sadly, shaking his head, his bangs falling in his eyes.
"Oh, Sam…" She reached over to pat his hand. "What Finn did to you…" She sighed, shaking her head. "I understand that it must really hurt. And I know that things must be very confusing for you right now. But you need a friend, somebody you can trust and lean on in these hard times…" She squeezed his fingers. "In terms of the boys, I would recommend Artie as a good listener."
"Yeah…" He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Um, I think he thought maybe I was hitting on him… 'Cause, well, you remember when Santana and Brittney and Ms. Holliday sang Landslide? Um… I kind of said I wished me and him were that close, but—" His eyes widened seriously, "I totally didn't know San and Brittney were like… into each other… So…"
She bit her lip to keep from chuckling. "Oh… Well, I could see how that might cause some confusion and… and discomfort." She looked away. "Well, I mean, there's Mike… Although his blatant happiness with Tina may cause some friction." She snapped her fingers and held one up in the air. "Of course! I'm appalled I didn't think of it to begin with. You should speak with Noah! He may not seem relatable, but I assure you that's just the crusty outside. There's a soft, gooey center that gets overlooked because he hides it behind his lovely 'guns.'" She even finger-quoted for him.
He blinked. "Wait, Noah…? That's… Isn't that Puck?"
She nodded happily. "Yes! Although, and I'm only saying this for your safety, you probably should only call him Puck…" She wrinkled her nose. "He can get a little testy when certain people use that name."
Sam looked away thoughtfully, remembering when one of the footballers called him Noah in the locker room, making fun of him for glee or maybe even Rachel, and Puck used the guy's face as his personal punching bag. It wasn't pretty. Cringing, he nodded. "Yeah, I'll stick with Puck."
She smiled. "Fantastic! So you'll speak to him then?"
"Oh… Uh…" He sighed, frowning down at the cooling casserole. "Look, Rachel, it's really nice, y'know? You trying to help me and stuff, but… I'm okay!" He stared up at her. "Really."
Her lips pursed and she stared right back. Happy, consoling Rachel disappeared as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him thinly. "Sam… I like you. I don't know you very well in comparison to some of the other gleeks, but from what I do know, you seem to be a very nice gentleman. Not something seen often when related to the football team. However… And I'll put this as kindly as I can… You are not okay. And saying so just because you'd like me to 'butt out' or to 'turn the other cheek' or to simply 'turn a blind eye' to your situation…? It won't work." She sighed loudly, clucked her tongue, and stood up. "If I have to, I will come here every single day, food in hand, and make sure that not only are you taken care of, but that you have a sympathetic ear to talk out your problems, whatever they may be." She walked toward the door with stomping steps. "I won't tell anybody of your situation, Sam, but I won't ignore it either." She raised a brow. "You have a choice here… You either speak to Noah, or you spend the next however many days with me." She tapped her foot impatiently.
He frowned, staring at the floor. "So… You'll bring me food and hang out with me until I'm outta here?"
Her expression softened. "I don't know why you're here and I don't know how long you'll be here, but contrary to popular belief, I do care about others… And I will be here for you as long as you need me."
He looked up again and caught the half-smile she was sending his way. "I'm not… I don't wanna talk about it yet… I will. Just…" He turned to dish out more of the casserole. "Not yet."
"That's fine." She nodded. "But it's late and I have another kugel at home, waiting to be dished out for my dads, so…" She opened the door and looked back at him. "I will see you tomorrow."
"Yeah…" He looked over. "Later, Rachel. And, um, thanks."
She grinned, walking out the door and closing it softly behind her.
Sam smiled to himself, digging into his kugel again.
Later that night, when the soap operas got loud and the sobbing even louder, he just rolled onto his side, closed his eyes, and wondered what Rachel might bring him to eat tomorrow.
…
She brought him a chicken pot pie the second day. She told him she wore gloves when preparing it, that she may or may not have mourned and said a prayer for the chicken, and that she couldn't scrub the blood of the innocent off her fingers. It tasted awesome. He did his Darth Vader impression to make her stop sniffling. She laughed and all was forgiven. Especially later when she cut his hair, crooked, but it was the thought that counted. Or at least that was what she told him after he complained.
On day three, she made him some special vegan thing and he still wasn't sure what was put in it, but it tasted pretty awesome and her not crying over animals that would be dead if she cooked them or not was really cool. He told her really lame jokes but she laughed anyway. He thought maybe this was what being accepted felt like. Especially when he showed her some of his action figures, still in their original packaging, and instead of telling him how lame he was, she told him about all the collector's edition musicals she had that she refused to open out of love for the genre.
Day four was spaghetti and meat crumbles. Seriously, those weren't meatballs, they were some vegan alternative. He picked them out and hid them in his napkin when she wasn't looking. He had to make up excuses to get her to look away, but he was pretty sure she caught on like half-way through and just started rolling her eyes at his antics. She made him sing show-tunes, helped him with his pitch, and looked really upset when the sobbing-guy next door banged on the wall and told them he was trying to sleep and their singing was hurting his eardrums. He figured the dude deserved it and sang a little louder; it made her smile.
She took him out to eat on day five, even though he told her a bunch of times that he really couldn't afford it, not unless he wanted to sell his collector's edition Boba Fett (which he really, really didn't). She rolled her eyes, forced him into her tiny little Smart car and took him to BreadstiX for dinner. She didn't complain when he ate a steak but he used the breadsticks basket to hide it from her so she didn't have to stare at the 'bleeding slab of dead animal.' He bought them slushees after and confessed that when they weren't being thrown at him, they were actually pretty good. His favorite was cherry; she argued grape was the best.
On the sixth day, he talked her into watching Avatar, even though she said she'd already seen it. They watched it in her basement, where she'd had her party the month before, and they ordered out. He got to meet her dads, who were really excited she had a friend. He felt bad that they were surprised and told them she was the best friend he'd ever had. He wasn't lying. She hugged him later and he thought maybe there were tears in her eyes. He didn't know when it happened, but Rachel Berry became his first real friend ever. He wished he figured that out when he first got to McKinley.
After a week, she packed them a picnic basket and they ate at a nearby park. She told him about her mom, Shelby, and all the crazy things that happened the year before he came. He wondered if he ever really knew Quinn, if she could pass off her baby to Mr. Shue's wife and not say anything. He decided it didn't matter anymore, but later that night he realized he was really over her. Finn could have her. And now that him and Santana were basically broken up, he thought he needed some time to just like, be himself. He didn't want to date for awhile. Rachel told him she thought it was a great idea, but if he had a rockstar moment and started dating multiple girls at once, she'd de-bloat his head and it wouldn't be pretty. He figured he was really lucky to have such a cool friend.
…
Eight days. He was honestly surprised she'd lasted this long. She was pacing, wringing her hands. "I've held my tongue a good long while, Sam Evans! But my worry and my concern can only be shoved to the side so long."
He grinned at her. "You're so dramatic!"
She rolled her eyes, huffed, and stomped her foot as she walked from one end of the room to the other. "And you're avoiding the issue!"
He sighed, leaning back on his bed, his arms behind his head. "I'm not… I was just seeing how long it'd take for you to bring it up again."
"You're just as aggravating as Noah!" she complained. "This is not a game! This is your livelihood. Your safety! Your—"
"Rachel…" He lifted his shoulders up high in a shrug. "I'm living in a motel 'cause I got into a fight with my stepdad. About grades and Santana and glee club and I just…" He sighed. "Look, I'm never good enough… I'm not a good enough boyfriend like, ever. Quinn traded me in for Finn and I made Santana half-gay… And I suck at school! I-I thought I was doing better but my grades, they just…" He looked away. "Having dyslexia is hard, everything is just so backwards, and I tried, I really did, but there was so much going on and I guess I should've studied more, but I just got caught up in all this Quinn/Finn, Santana/Brittney stuff and I failed math and it just…" He shook his head. "It just all seemed to be happening at the same time and my stepdad started yelling at me about how I was failing school and he'd heard things around town about Santana and we weren't even really together anymore but I couldn't say that 'cause it'd just be another thing I failed at. And then he started saying how stupid glee club was and I just, I lost it…" He licked his lips, sighing. "And he said if I didn't like his rules or whatever I should leave, so… So I did." He shrugged, glaring down at the blanket. "And it all sounds really stupid, but—"
Her arms were around him, cutting him off, and her chin was on his shoulder as she squeezed and rubbed his back. "Oh Sam… You are not a failure. You're a teenager!" She shook her head. "Quinn was wrong to do what she did to you… Even if she was having doubts, she should have voiced them rather than act behind your back. And Santana…" She sighed. "You didn't make her gay, half or otherwise. She's been in this pseudo-relationship with Brittney for awhile. It just so happens that it's only recently that she's come to terms with her feelings and as fate would have it, you were unfortunately in the crossfire." Pulling back, she sat down next to him. "And as for your grades?" She smiled, holding his hands in hers. "You've been stressed, but you're not stupid. If you need help, be it tutoring or just group homework sessions, I'm completely willing to do so!" She nodded. "Now, as for this squabble with your parents…" She stared at him searchingly. "You don't belong here in a motel, Sam… You belong at home." She shook her head when he tried to interrupt. "I'll come with you and we'll talk to your parents, whenever you're ready. And if, by some truly mistaken thought process, they decide you shouldn't come home…" Her expression turned fierce. "Then you're coming back to my house and there will be no more discussion about it."
He chuckled lightly. "You don't think your dads'll have something to say?"
She raised a brow. "Oh, no, they offered you a place at our house the first night I mentioned something was wrong. But I didn't think you'd be comfortable and I was hoping we might find a way around the situation." She shrugged slightly. "I want you to be happy, Sam. And I think you miss your family."
He frowned. "I miss my sister… and my brother… a little."
She smiled. "Just a little?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Whenever you're ready, just let me know, and I'll be happy to go with you to talk it out with your parents."
He stared at her, unconvinced, his brow cocked. "No pressure?"
She grinned. "If you call the fact that you have little to no money left to afford to stay in this motel much longer than a few more days no pressure, then yes, of course. No pressure at all."
He snorted. "Gee, thanks."
Hopping off the bed, she reached over to pat his cheek affectionately. "I'm only looking out for you, Sam."
He sighed. "I know…"
She exhaled, long and loud. "Doesn't it feel better to get it all off your chest though?"
"Ray, I'm a guy… I don't do feelings." He rolled his eyes obnoxiously.
"You sound entirely too much like Noah at the moment, Sam Evans!" She shook her head, turned on her heel and walked to the door. "I'll be expecting a call in the next few days to let me know when you're ready to mediate with your family."
He saluted her as she left, mumbling under his breath in Na'vi about difficult women.
…
At school, he kept up the act. Santana mentioned his hair was crooked, but he figured he looked less like a homeless person, so whatever, at least they didn't know he was living in a motel. He kept waiting for them to figure it out, but they didn't.
Rachel brought an extra lunch to school for him; they ate in the choir room. Or he ate and she performed various songs. Sometimes, he got up and danced with her. He got her to loosen up and laugh and dance with him and he thought maybe he was good for her too. Things were fun and normal and he could forget all about the drama at home or with his ex-girlfriends. Until Puck walked in on them mid-dance, frowned, turned back around and left.
Rachel stared after him like she wanted to explain, but then she asked him to do his Darth Vader impression and he knew it always cheered her up so he did.
He didn't know what was up with her and Puck, but if she didn't want to explain he wouldn't push.
…
"What's up with you andBerry?"
Sam looked up from his math homework to see Puck glaring down at him. "Um…" He looked around the near-empty library, kind of wishing there were witnesses nearby. "We're friends."
He cocked a brow and snorted and Sam thought he maybe looked like a bull… right before it charged. "Yeah, seriously, dudes aren't friends with Berry. They pretend to be, but they're all just trying to get up her skirt." He crossed his arms over his chest. "So either you're pulling some prank 'cause Satan told you to, or you're moving in on her. Either way…" He shook his head, eyes narrowed. "Stop."
Sam blinked. "Okay, uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Really, I'm just… We're just friends." He closed his textbook and stood up. "She's been helping me with some… family stuff. Actually…" His brows furrowed. "She kind of just shoved her way into my life and I was distracted 'cause she had food in her hands and have you ever had her kugel?" He shook his head. "Never mind, she said she got the recipe off your mom. Anyway… So she was like… Something's wrong with you and I want to help," he said, imitating her voice. "And she didn't let me say anything before she was all, You should talk to the boys. And I was like, I'm not even friends with the glee dudes and she was like, Talk to Noah! And I was like, That's Puck, right? And she was like—"
"Dude, I get it," he interrupted, waving his hand. "And seriously, that was a really good impression of her."
"I know, right?" His chest puffed up a little as he grinned. "I think I just got it. 'Cause before it was a little too high and kind of nasally, but I think I finally nailed it." He fist-pumped a little proudly. "But yeah…" He shrugged. "Ray and I are just friends. She's… She's really cool when she's not all worked up about glee or like Broadway or whatever…"
"Yeah, she's cool shit." Puck stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Listen, sorry I ragged on you about her, but…"
He nodded. "It's cool. You were looking out for her. I get it." He half-smiled. "Honestly, though, she's like…" His brows furrowed. "She's my best friend, so…"
Puck stared at him. "Are you sure you're not gay?"
He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Is this about Artie? 'Cause I explained that… I didn't know Santana was into Brittney, I—"
"No, dude…" He laughed a little. "I just… I don't get how any guy could not be into those legs."
"Her legs?" He blinked. "I—"
Just then, Rachel entered the library and walked toward them, and because Puck had said something Sam's eyes fell, riveted to her endlessly long legs, that didn't seem to match at all with her tiny body. She beamed up at them. "Hello boys!"
"Huh," Sam sighed, still staring down. "How's that even work?"
She stared at him, confused. Looking down at herself and then back to them, she pursed her lips. "I don't understand."
Puck slapped him upside the back of the head.
"Noah!" she chastised. "Sam, are you all right? Please excuse Noah's brutish behavior, he's not house-trained."
Flushed, Sam rubbed the back of his head. "Uh, no, it's… It's okay." He cleared his throat. "He was just…" He nodded. "Yeah, so… Um, hey, Rachel, remember what we were talking about? With like, my parents?"
Her eyes widened. "Yes, of course!" She reached out to touch his arm comfortingly. "Are you ready?"
He glanced from her to Puck, who was glaring at her hand on his arm. "Yeah, uh, today? After school?"
"Sure!" She nodded. "We can leave from the motel. That way we only need one vehicle."
"Motel?" Puck repeated, tone dark as he stared at Sam.
Her mouth gaped, realizing her mistake. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Sam. I-I didn't mean to—"
"It's okay. He's not… It's not…" He looked from her to Puck. "It's so not what you think!"
"Sam, Noah is very intelligent, I'm sure the assumption he's come to is right. You might as well come clean."
"Yeah, Sam, come clean," he growled, glaring at her.
"Okay… I'm a little worried I might get really hurt, really soon, so…" He took a step back, holding his hands up. "Seriously, Rachel and I are just friends. I've been staying in a motel for the last couple weeks, 'cause I had a falling out with my parents. No big deal! She followed me, found me out, and she's been keeping me company, totally not in my bed. Well, I mean, except for that one time, but she was just like sitting on the bed and there was some hugging but it was just friendly hugging, y'know? Like this—" He reached over, grabbed her up, hugged her tight and quick and then let her go. "See? Nothing sexual."
"I am very confused right now," Rachel murmured.
Puck's jaw ticked. "S'nothing, B." He shook his head. "Beiber was just keeping his hands to himself, s'all."
She blinked. "Honestly, Noah, must you call him that?"
He smirked at her. "Yes." Not waiting for her to argue with him, he nodded his head in farewell and left.
Rachel huffed, glaring after him. "How infuriating!"
Sam was just happy his face was in one piece, big lips and all. "Yeah… Y'know, you should just date him and get it over with."
She narrowed her eyes at him over her shoulder. "For your information, Noah and I dated for five days last year. It was an ill-conceived idea, obviously. He was the real father of Quinn's baby and I was in love with Finn at the time."
"Huh… So maybe you should try going out when you're not in love with anybody…" He grinned. "Besides each other, anyway." He grabbed up his books and started walking away.
"What is that supposed to mean?" she screeched.
He chuckled and continued walking.
"Samuel Brian Evans!" she called, stomping her foot before she gave chase.
With a laugh, he ran out of the library.
…
Despite all her 'we're just friends' arguments, Sam noticed she texted Puck a lot. Like, even more than she texted him. Which was nuts. 'Cause sometimes she texted Sam even when they were standing right next to each other. Like he was telling her about how he thought Avatar 2 would play out and she randomly texted him a playlist she thought he should download. When he asked why, she said it was because she had a limited amount of texts she could send and they expired by the end of the month; she was just using her package to its fullest. When he counted later, he found she sent him a total of fifteen different emoticons throughout the day. No message, just random faces. He decided it was like a mood warning system.
When he mentioned she texted Puck a lot, she stopped. But Puck just texted her twice as much until she gave in and wrote back.
He considered starting a pool on when they'd get together…
…
"So… maybe this was a bad idea," he muttered, staring at the house he'd spent the last two weeks avoiding.
She sighed. "There's no better time than now."
"What about later…?" He suggested hopefully. "Around never?"
She stared at him, brow lifted, unimpressed.
He frowned. "Fine… But when they kick me out for being a loser who sucks at everything, remember that your dads said I could hole up at your place for the rest of my pitiful high school career."
She clucked her tongue. "And you said I was dramatic!"
He stuck his tongue out at her before hopping out of his truck. Circling it, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked up the path with her at his side.
"Do I look all right?" she worried, smoothing out her skirt anxiously.
He glanced back at her. "Rachel, we're not here for dinner… We're here to see if they want be back. You don't have to impress anyone."
She chewed her lip. "I feel like I should…" She fiddled with the ends of her sweater sleeves. "I'm sure your last best friend was a boy. I'm not sure they'll be expecting me."
He laughed. "I'm pretty sure they won't care. They'll be too busy telling me to get all my stuff out of my old room so they can turn it into a gym!"
She reached out and grabbed his arm, turning him around so she could stare up at him sternly. "You listen to me, Sam Evans! Whatever those people in there have to say, the truth of the matter is simple. You're a good person and a great friend and I wouldn't trade you in for any number of other people." She took his shoulders into her tiny hands and gave him a shake. "Who does the best Darth Vader in all ofLima?"
He half-grinned. "Me."
"And who speaks Na'vi so well he'd impress James Cameron with his fluency?"
He rolled his eyes. "Me."
"And who's such a fantastic dancer, singer, and performer that Rachel Berry, future Broadway star, would be proud to have him at her side?"
He laughed. "Me."
"Yes!" she cried, nodding. "And you are so much more than all that too! You're sweet and generous and kind-hearted. You're funny, even though your jokes are outdated and that's coming from me!" She smiled up at him. "And you're smart and friendly and you don't care what the rest of the school might have to say when you took a struggling teenage girl who's seen her fair share of ridicule under your wing and named her your best friend… You, Sam Evans, are a wonderful person. And if your parents can't see that, then… Then screw them!" she decided, worked up. "You'll come and live with me, and dad and daddy will adopt you, and you'll be my brother, and then of course you'll never get rid of me and—"
"You're getting ahead of yourself, Ray," he interrupted, smiling. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and brought her in close so he could kiss the top of her head. "But thanks, y'know… For like, believing in me and stuff."
She smiled. "That is one thing you will never have to fear ending… I will always believe in you, Sam."
He nodded. And taking a deep breath, he turned back toward the house. "Okay… Let's do this!"
They weren't at the door before it swung open and his mom was staring back at him. "Sammy! Oh, Sammy!" She rushed forward and threw her arms around him. "Where have you been? I-I've been so worried! You—" She squeezed him tighter. "I thought with a little time to cool down, you'd come home, but two weeks?" She slapped his shoulder and pulled back, staring down into his eyes, which he only now realized were stinging with tears. "We can work through it, sweetie… We'll get you a tutor! We'll help you with your homework ourselves. We—We'll do whatever it takes. I—" She hugged him again. "Just don't ever run away again!"
His arms banded around her and he squeezed, breathing in the soft, flowery scent of mom and he relaxed, feeling at home for the first time in so long. He stared at Rachel from over his mother's shoulder and she smiled back at him, nodding. He mouthed thank you and let his mom soothe the sadness of the last while. They still had work to do and he still had to talk to his step-dad, but when he saw him standing there in the doorway, relief in his face that his stepson was okay, Sam figured they were on the road to recovery.
…
That night, he talked to his stepdad for the first time in a long time. He explained how difficult life had been lately; about Quinn and Santana and Finn. And even though he thought he'd feel like a failure, or get called a loser, his stepdad was actually pretty cool about it.
He promised to get his grades up – Rachel even made a studying schedule for him – and he agreed he wouldn't run off on them and not let them know he was okay.
His mom never let go of his hand.
His stepdad told him he was happy to have him home.
For the first time in a long time, Sam felt like he had a family, and they really loved him.
He fell asleep thankful.
…
The next morning found a well-rested and generally happy Sam.
Posters for prom were all over the place, Finn and Quinn's sickeningly smiling faces staring back at him from every wall. Rachel appeared next to him just as he was closing his locker door. "Hey," she chirped.
He grinned. The last time she'd been so cheerful was when she first arrived at the motel to shove him out of his funk and make sure he was taken care of. Though surprised and a little unsure at the time, it'd only led to good things. "Hey," he said back. "What's up?"
"I've never understood the point of that question," she muttered. "How does it in any way resemble the question, 'What is happening in your life currently?'" She shook her head.
He grinned at her, walking down the hall and shrugging as she stepped in line with him. "English isn't really my thing, Ray."
She shrugged, turning to smile up at him. "So… How is life now that you've returned home?"
"Quieter," he told her appreciatively. "I never realized how good my sister's lame pop music was until I had to listen to Spanish soap-operas all day and night." He shook his head, eyes wide. "No más, por favor!" (No more, please!)
She scoffed at him, amused. "You did much better on your Spanish tests, if you'll remember. You should thank that woman!"
He glared at her. "You're not funny!" He shook his head. "Diablo hablar!" (Devil talk!)
She hooked her arm through his. "So how are you feeling?" she wondered.
His brows furrowed. "I'm good. Why?" He looked around worriedly. "Did I miss something?"
She blinked up at him. "Well, I had assumed, what with all of the hubbub over prom and well…" She bit her lip. "The posters…"
"Oh…" He looked over, shrugging. "Yeah, no, I'm good."
She peered up at him in concern. "You're sure?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I'm totally over the Quinn thing."
"And the Santana thing?"
"I saw her making out with Brittney at her locker earlier…" He frowned. "Is it weird it's a little hot?"
She scoffed, slapped his arm. "Sam!"
He laughed. "Okay, okay…" He mumbled a second later, "Really is though…"
She rolled her eyes, huffing.
Sobering, he looked his lips and glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. "Look, Rachel…" He stopped, turning to look down at her. "I really appreciate you looking out for me, y'know? You've really helped me these last few weeks and it's been… It's been really cool having someone I can talk to." He really sucked at this, he decided. Honestly, he'd never really had a best friend before and he wasn't sure how he would've made it through the last couple weeks if it hadn't been for her. She'd been his life line and he didn't really know how to put that into words. "I-I don't how to say this…" he muttered, squeezing her hands.
Her face fell suddenly.
And he frowned. "What? What's happening?"
She pulled away from him, looking upset but resolved. "This is where you tell me that it's been very nice spending time in my company but now that you're feeling better you think we should take a break from our friendship." She nodded quickly, her eyes falling to the floor. "It's perfectly okay. I understand completely. I—"
"What? Wait, I—"
"No, it's fine, Sam." She backed up. "It was foolish to think it might last." She shook her head. "You've moved on from your heartbreak, you have your family back, it only makes sense that you no longer need my services and I…" She wrung her hands. "I think perhaps it would be better if we did take a break. I mean, without Santana your reputation is sure to take a hit and spending any significant time with me will only hinder any chance you have of climbing the social ladder once more, so…" She took a deep breath. "I'll see you in glee, okay?" She turned on her heel to leave, pausing only as a slushee was tossed unceremoniously in her face.
Back rigid and arms out, she stood completely still for a moment, in shock.
Sam stared, wide-eyed. "Rachel…" He hurried toward her.
"No, I-I'm fine," she sniffled. "You—You shouldn't help me. They won't… They won't like that." She ran away, bee-lining it for a bathroom.
Sam was confused. He wanted to help her. He wasn't giving up her friendship. How the hell did saying thank you get so screwed up? If that wasn't enough, he was shoved forward suddenly when somebody rammed into his shoulder. He looked up to see Puck walking past, frowning at him. "Didn't I tell you not to mess with her?"
"I wasn't! Look, I—This is all just really messed up. I wasn't… I didn't…" He sighed, frustrated. "She's my best friend!"
Puck stared back at him. "Prove it." Not waiting for an answer, he walked right into the girl's bathroom. And through the swinging door, Sam watched as Rachel, drenched in cherry slushee, turned, saw Puck, and broke down, crying against his chest. As it settled, effectively shutting him out, Sam knew he was on the wrong side of the door. He also knew Rachel wasn't willing to listen to him right then. So he left, deciding he'd make it up to her another way. Right after he made sure the guy who just slusheed her never did it again.
…
Ten minutes later, he got his second black-eye in his entire life when he told Jake Anderson to leave Rachel alone.
On the bright side, he also gave his first black eye, and he was pretty proud of that.
He couldn't be sure she'd never get slusheed again, but standing up for her felt better than a sneak preview of Avatar 2.
…
Glee was tense. Or maybe he just thought it was because Puck looked like he wanted to beat his face in with a chair. And Rachel wasn't looking at him. He didn't like that feeling. The rest of the club either didn't notice or didn't care. He knew they knew something was up with him and Rachel, 'cause they weren't really friends before she started showing up at his motel room but they spent all of the last week and a half just hanging out together. Now she was sitting with Puck and Lauren, and dude what the hell? It was so obvious to Sam that Puck had it bad for Rachel, but he was still trying to get in good with Lauren. And like, Lauren was cool, in a really scary way, but Rachel was awesome. And maybe that was just his 'support Rachel Berry 'cause she was his best friend' talking, but whatever.
So Mr. Shue came in, clapped his hands and said, "All right guys, so we've got a lot of planning…"
"Um…" Sam held up his hand. "Is it okay if I sing first? I, uh… I prepared something."
And by prepared he meant he spent most of his day not doing his class work, instead studying chords and memorizing lyrics. Sometimes, it was really good he had a little brother; he'd have to thank him later for being the inspiration behind finding the right song to sing. Although, he was pretty sure this was going to take his cool factor like right down to nothing.
"Yeah, sure, Sam…" Mr. Shue nodded, moving to take a seat. "Floor's all yours."
"Thanks…" He stood, crossing to grab a guitar up and swing it over his shoulder. While he tuned it, he looked up at the group. Rachel was staring at the floor, her hands clasped in her lap, and Puck had a brow raised like he was saying, "Well?"
"So, uh…" He sighed. "So I've spent the last few days moving back into my house…" He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. "I, um, I spent two weeks before that living out of a motel 'cause me and my parents were fighting and I… I felt like this giant loser that failed at everything…" He frowned. "And… And I know some of you are gonna say that I should've said something or come to you and that's… Whatever. 'Cause I don't even know a lot of you. Like we sing together and we hang out during glee but the only guy I was friends with was Finn and he stole my girlfriend, so…" He laughed a little bitterly. "But it's okay, really, 'cause I spent a week totally alone and then… Then this really cool girl shows up and she's got kugel and seriously, it's like the greatest thing since Cool Ranch Doritos and…" He smiled. "And she spent the next week just hanging with me and feeding me, which helped 'cause I never realized how much groceries cost…" He shook his head, easily distracted. "And this girl, she…" He looked up, staring at Rachel. "She's my best friend and she'd helped me through a lot lately and I don't know why, but she thought I didn't wanna hang with her anymore…" He grinned. "So this is me telling her that I do… That I wanna watch Avatar with her and do my Darth Vader impressions for her and I want to keep eating her weird vegan food 'cause it's actually pretty good and I… I don't care if it means I get slusheed or I'm not cool or whatever…" He shrugged. "So…" He licked his lips and then looked down at the guitar, taking a deep breath.
"You've got a friend in me…" he sang, strumming. "You've got a friend in me…"
He swallowed tightly, noticing the amused or confused expression on most of the other gleeks faces.
"When the road looks rough ahead, and you're miles and miles from your safe warm bed…" He looked up at her. "Just remember what your old pal said, girl; you've got a friend in me… Yeah, you've got a friend in me…"
Her arms loosened, falling to her sides, and her eyes raised to stare back at him, hopeful.
"You've got trouble, well I've got 'em too… There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you… We stick together and we see it through, 'cause you've got a friend in me…" He nodded. "You've got a friend in me…"
She smiled then, ducking her head a little.
He danced toward her, getting into the beat a little more, and sang right to her. "Some other folks might be a little bit smarter than I am…" He nodded toward Puck, singing, "Bigger and stronger too…" He shrugged. "Maybe…"
She chuckled, grinning widely now.
"But none of them will ever you love you the way I do, it's me and you, girl…" He winked. "And as the years go by, our friendship will never die…" He shook his head. "You're gonna see, it's our des-ti-ny..." He nodded. "You've got a friend in me… You've got a friend in me…" He knelt down in front of her and smiled up. "You've got a friend in me!"
She rose from her seat then and he stood with her. "Perhaps I jumped to conclusions too quickly."
He grinned lopsidedly at her. "So we're good?"
Reaching up, she hugged him. "Better than," she told him. Squeezing, she added, "That was a wonderful performance, Sam. A little shaky at the start-point, but I'm sure with practice the nerves will go away."
He chuckled into her hair, rubbing her back. He was just glad he had her back, even if she was critiquing his heartfelt performance. He saw Puck staring at him over her shoulder and got the nod. He nodded back. 'Cause apparently he did good and was no longer on Puck's shit list for messing with his girl.
"Hey, when did Sam and Rachel start hanging out?" Finn could be heard asking distantly.
Puck snorted, rolling his eyes.
"They're besties!"Brittany told him happily. "I will call you Evanberry and you will be my new favorite friendship ship."
Rachel drew back and turned to blink at the girl. "I feel we should be thanking her."
Sam blinked. "Um, thanksBrittany."
She grinned at them before linking pinkies with Santana and flouncing off. "He won't get in the way of Puckleberry, right San?"
"Of course not, baby," she cooed back.
"Good… I was just starting to like him and I didn't want to tear his fake blond hair out."
Frowning, Sam touched his hair. Was it really that obvious?
Rachel giggled.
As Mr. Shue chased after the gleeks now leaving the room, complaining, "Guys? We still have things we need to discuss!" Sam threw an arm around Rachel's shoulders and walked her out of the choir room and toward her locker. "So I was thinking since I'm all moved in, you might wanna come meet my family for real… Like without the crying and stuff… I'm not even sure they got your name last time."
She grinned. "Sure… On one condition."
He raised a brow. "I'm listening."
"I've gone all day without any impressions whatsoever and I believe in your speech you mentioned you'd like to continue doing them for me…" She raised a hand to cup her ear. "James Earl Jones, if you please."
He grinned. "This morning I woke up and decided to swallow the sun…"
She nodded, pleased. "Okay, now say… 'I am your father's brother's nephew's cousin's former roommate.'"
He rolled his eyes. "Rachel… That's Spaceballs, not Star Wars… I think I'm offended right now."
"I know! Daddy was watching it last night." At his frown, she laughed. "Sam, please!"
He shook his head. "No."
"Come on…"
"No." His brows rose for emphasis. "That's offensive to the whole Star Wars series!"
"But even I can laugh at the ridiculousness of Mel Brooks and his cinematic hilarity!" she argued.
"Rachel…" he sighed.
She pouted. "Ple-eeease!"
He sighed, putting on his James Earl Jones/Darth Vader voice, and said reluctantly, "I am your father's brother's nephew's cousin's former roommate."
She clapped. "Yay!"
He chuckled under his breath. "You're lucky you're my best friend."
Smiling softly, she nodded. "That I am, Sam Evans."
He shook his head. "I'm pretty lucky too…" He winked at her. "Rachel Berry."
She nodded, her brows raised agreeably. "You really are."
He smirked. "Impressive. Most impressive. Obi-Wan has taught you well."
She rolled her eyes. "You're going to keep this up awhile, aren't you?"
"The force is with you, young Berry, but you are not a Jedi yet."
She sighed, walking ahead of him.
He grinned, hurrying after her. "This is no escape! Don't make me destroy you!"
"I'm not listening!" With a huff, she told him. "I'll meet you at the car!"
"There will be a substantial reward for the one who finds the Millennium Falcon."
"You're ridiculous, Sam!"
He laughed. "You love me anyway."
She turned to look at him, smiling. "There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you."
He grinned. "We stick together and we see it through…"
She hooked her arm with his and together they sang, "You've got a friend in me…"
Laughing lightly, they hugged each other close, walking through the near empty school halls, content to have found exactly what they needed when they needed it. The best friendship either of them had ever known. And it would stay that way for a good long lifetime.
[End.]
Author's Note: While this is a oneshot, it will have three related parts. The next part establishes a friendship between Rachel and Mike Chang while a third part completes them by getting Mike and Sam to explore a friendship with each other, thus creating Cherryvans. Or Sikechel. Or Mamchel. And then there's a fourth part, that focuses on Rachel/Puck, with the formly established Cherryvans friendship. Just a heads up. ^_^