Disclaimer: Glee is owned by Fox Corporation. No copyright infringement is intended.
I promise this story isn't as horribly depressing as Don't They?
"Santana, we're in Glee club. We sing out our feelings," Sam says.
"That is a horrendous idea. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly the 'hug-it-out' type," Santana responds.
"And how's that working out, so far?" Sam questioned with a roll of his eyes.
"Fuck you, Evans."
"You're the one who asked for this meeting."
"Yeah, to bounce ideas off of you. You're one of the only two guys in Glee that I don't hate, and even I couldn't separate Asian fusion for long enough to talk with Mike. I just need to come up with the perfect gesture for Brittany."
"Alright, alright," Sam says, putting his hands up in a show of surrender. "When you think of something better, let me know."
As Sam walks out of the choir room, Santana flops into one of the chairs, throws her head back, and sighs.
As much as Santana hates to admit it, Sam made a good point. Still, she's barely comfortable admitting that she has feelings in the first place, let alone singing about them. For a moment, Santana thinks about what it would be like to be Rachel Berry, before shaking her head in disgust. She picks up her phone and just stares at it for a few minutes, before giving in and dialing Sam's number.
"Alright, Julia Roberts, you win. I'm in," Santana says when Sam picks up.
"Err, what? I'm not even sure I understand that one. Should I just assume it's another mouth joke?" Sam asks.
"She's got an abnormally wide– you know what, it's too easy now. Takes all the fun out of it," Santana says. "Look, I'm agreeing to your idea – but you've got to back me up on it."
"Like, sing with you? Because I don't think our voices go together," Sam says, confusedly.
"You sure you're not gay?"
"Was there something you wanted from me? Do you even have a song?"
"Eh, I'm working on it," Santana says. She shrugs her shoulders, before realizing that Sam can't see it over the phone. "Just make sure you can play it."
It takes Santana all weekend, but she finally finds the perfect song after waffling among Brittany's many favorites. Sam agrees to rehearse it after school in the choir room, on the condition that she abstains from mouth jokes for the next few weeks; Santana makes no promises.
When Santana doesn't meet her by her locker after school on Monday, Brittany wonders where she else could have gone. She waits for her for half an hour before heading home.
On Tuesday, Santana is still a no-show, and Brittany gets slightly concerned that Santana is avoiding her. Wednesday, she sees Santana and Sam talking close in low tones, and wonders what is going on between the two of them. As far as she can remember, Santana only talked to Sam to make a crack about his gigantic gob.
Brittany hums Trouty Mouth under her breath when she follows them on Thursday; she feels like Nancy Drew. She is surprised when they end up back in the choir room and wonders if she forgot about an extra Glee club practice session.
Both Santana and Sam have their backs to her, so she sneaks in and sits quietly in the corner. Brittany isn't surprised when Santana starts to sing, but she is when she recognizes it as one of her favorite songs. She closes her eyes and listens, but Santana cuts off half way through when Sam misses a note.
"Damnit, Sam!" Santana says in exasperation. "This needs to be perfect for her."
"I'm trying," he says. "I just need a little more practice."
Santana gasps softly when she hears a chair scraping the floor behind her. She turns around and finds Brittany already standing, her hands twisting nervously in front of her.
Santana manages to squeak out, "Brittany, I—" before Brittany interrupts her.
"That song was for me?" she asks.
"Yeah, but it's not finished…" Santana trails off.
"That's okay," Brittany says. "Play it again, Sam."
I know the quote isn't accurate, but the popular misquote works better.
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