The day before.
"Lord Tubbington is mad I didn't bring him with me to Princeton," Brittany said to Sam over Skype.
"How do you know?"
"He's been making mean comments on all my Fondue for Two videos. Like, there's this one that says, 'Your cat is way smarter than you are.' I mean, how much more obvious can he get?"
"Maybe Lady Tubbington wrote that," Sam suggested.
"Oh, my sweet, confused Sam. Lady Tubbington doesn't think she's smarter than me. She thinks she's hotter than me, which is—"
"Ridiculous."
"Exactly," Brittany said. "It's ridiculous. But I don't want her to have bad self-esteem so I let her think that. Oh, by the way, did I leave Santana Junior in your room?"
Sam wished she hadn't named it after her ex-girlfriend. That was weird, right? "Yes, and thank God Carole didn't find it." The last thing he needed was for Finn's mother, who was nice enough to let him keep staying there even though Finn and Kurt and Kurt's dad were all away, to find a giant vibrator in "his" room.
"Good, I was really worried about her. She'll be safe with you, though. You can mess around with her if you want." Someone walked behind Brittany. Brittany turned to her and said, "Laura, come say hi to my boyfriend Sam. Laura's showing me around and I'm staying in her dorm room while I'm here."
A girl with short red hair leaned into the picture. "Hi, Sam. Brittany's great. I really hope she'll come to Princeton."
Brittany gave her a one-armed hug. "Aw, thanks, Laura. I'm not sure Princeton's academics are up to my standards, but that's sweet anyway." She kissed Laura on the cheek.
Laura seemed to blush a little, but Sam couldn't be sure; the picture wasn't the greatest. "I'm going to go take a shower. Nice to meet you, I guess, Sam."
"You too," Sam called to her retreating figure. To Brittany he said, "She seems nice."
"Uh-huh. And so hot."
"Yeah? Too bad I didn't get a good look at her. I mean, her face was cute, I guess—"
"I should have made her show you her tongue," Brittany said. "She is really, really awesome at cunnilingus."
Sam was momentarily speechless. "What do you mean, Britt?" He was pretty sure she meant some other word.
"You know. Cunnilingus. When you put your tongue in a girl's vagina and on her clitoris? You've done it a million times; what did you think it was called?"
Again, he didn't know how to respond. "And, uh, she happened to mention that she's really good at it?"
"No, Sam. Everyone thinks they're good at it, but most people aren't. You really are, of course. And I know Laura is because when she went down on me last night it was awesome. I came like...I don't know how many times. I lost count."
Sam was surprised, to say the least. Surprised and conflicted. He'd jerked off countless times to imagined images of Brittany with another girl. Usually the other girl was Santana, which wasn't great because he didn't really like Santana, but she was easy to picture, and the knowledge that it had really happened was a bigger turn-on than some hypothetical scenario. And now he was picturing this Laura girl going down on Brittany. He wished he'd gotten a better look at her, but he could still picture it pretty well. He pictured Brittany coming. Brittany's orgasms made him almost wish he was a girl. They went on and on and she could have one after another and she screamed and bit and dug her nails into him. Okay, those last couple things he could maybe do without, but everything else was super hot.
But. His girlfriend just admitted she cheated on him. Admitted it as if it were nothing, in fact. He really shouldn't like this. He had to admit that he did, though, if his erection was any indication. "Sam," he heard her say. "What's wrong? You're spacing out."
"Brittany...you didn't, like, break up with me and forget to tell me or something, did you? Because last thing I knew we were going out, and part of going out, generally, is not having sex with other people."
"I didn't have sex with her. She had sex with me." And Brittany went on to explain why this wasn't cheating. Sam was mostly convinced by the end of her explanation. No, completely convinced. It made perfect sense, actually. And he was vaguely aware that this rule could work for him too, maybe. If an opportunity ever arose.
He was spacing out again and had to ask Brittany to repeat the last thing she'd said. "I just asked what was going on in glee. Does everyone miss me? Sing me the last song you sang in glee."
"Well, mostly they were group numbers that I can't really sing by myself. But I did do this one mostly by myself. Be right back." He walked across the room for his guitar. When he came back he announced, "I'm back." He didn't like to freak Brittany out. He played her his song, the song he'd been conceived to, "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'."
Brittany was crying by the end of it.
"I guess it's kind of a sad song," he admitted. But Brittany sounded more than just the sad you get at hearing a random sad song. She sounded sort of...inconsolable. "Brittany, baby, I'm sorry. I wouldn't have sung it if I knew it would affect you this way. It's just a song, though. I didn't pick it because of you and me or anything. I wasn't trying to say that you lost that loving feeling."
"Because I haven't," she said between sobs. "You have."
"What? That's crazy, Brittany."
Brittany shook her head sadly. "You've barely even been listening to me tonight. You've been thinking about someone else."
"I've been thinking about you and what's-her-name! The girl you're sleeping with!"
But Brittany just kept crying and shaking her head. "It's not just tonight. I've known for a long time that you're into someone else. And I know who it is."
"What the hell are you—" Sam thought heard a door opening. It wasn't his. "Is Laura back?" Brittany nodded. "Okay, listen. I'll talk to you alone when you get back. I love you. Okay? I love you."
Brittany shrugged. "If that's what you want to keep telling yourself." And she logged off.
Sam sat staring at the blank screen. I've known for a long time that you're into someone else. And I know who it is. Shit. He should have known that even if he could hide his feelings from everyone else, even from himself for a long time, he couldn't hide them from Brittany.
Well, at least this would save him from having to break it to her...if he ever grew the balls to do anything about it.
XOXOXO
Sam hated being alone in Kurt and Finn's house. He wasn't used to it: at his house there was always someone around. Usually he'd hang out with Brittany or Blaine, but once in a while they'd both be busy doing something else. Like tonight. He wished for Carole even. Not that they had a lot to talk about, but she was always nice to him.
Who he really wished for, though, was his family. Especially his mom. Was it lame for a seventeen-year-old guy to miss his mom? Probably.
So when he called her, he tried to sound casual. You knew, just seeing how things were. But his mom's ability to read him was as impressive as Brittany's—maybe even more so, since she knew something was up just from a phone call.
She asked lots of questions: How was school? Fine. No, he wasn't still freaked out about the non-shooting. It was just an accidental discharge—no big deal. How was his church youth group? Fine, he guessed. He hadn't been in a while. How were things with Brittany? Okay. No, really, they were okay. No, he didn't feel like talking about it. How was glee? Good. He thought they had a good chance at regionals this year.
His mother sighed. "You know you can talk to me about stuff, right?"
"Sure, mom. I know."
"I wish I could drive up for a visit. Maybe in a couple weeks I'll be able to arrange it."
"That'd be great," he said, brightening. "Maybe you could bring everyone."
"I think it'll probably just be me. Burt and Carole were so nice to extend an open invitation, but I don't think all four of us can impose on them. You know how Stevie and Stacey are."
"Yeah." Actually I don't. I haven't seen them in forever.
"Besides, your dad is working a lot of overtime."
"That's cool. It'll be good to see just you."
"Just me?"
Sam laughed. "I'm not scoring many points in the good son competition, am I?"
"Oh, you know it's not a competition, honey," his mom said. "But no."
XOXOXO
He couldn't sleep. It was a warmish night, or at least the first night of the year that wasn't too cold, so he opened the window. Fresh, cool air usually helped him sleep. But tonight it didn't do squat.
He kept thinking about Brittany, about what she'd said. I've known for a long time that you're into someone else. And I know who it is. It was true, but the thing was, he still loved her. He was terrified she would leave him. He got out of bed and sent her a text: "i luv u plz dont dump me." Pathetic, he knew. But he felt a little better after having sent it.
Except that she didn't text him back. Well, it was late. She was probably asleep. Or getting eaten out by that Laura girl again. Damn it. Why did that thought have to get him worked up even when he was all mopey and despondent?
It probably made him an asshole, but he wouldn't mind the possibility of Brittany dumping him so much if he could be sure Blaine still wanted him. He knew that wasn't fair to Brittany. She was so sweet and awesome. And here he was, just using her so he wouldn't have to be alone. And for sex, let's not forget the sex. But no, he did really love her. It wasn't an act. It was just that...well, like she said, he was into someone else now.
Someone who had probably lost interest in him by now. It was his own fault: he'd passed up at least two perfect opportunities to say something.
He had been about to say something, in fact, that one time in the locker room.
I've been waiting to let it out and release this inner sin that's tortured my insides.
Do you have feelings for me?
What? No, dude, come on. It's a million times worse than that.
What the fuck, Sam? You were supposed to say. "Yes. Yes, I'm crazy about you." But then, no, really that wasn't a good opportunity at all. It might have been, if he hadn't already fucked up by calling it a sin. How would that have made Blaine feel? Probably not like jumping him. More like telling him to go fuck himself. So he'd wussed out and made up some bullshit about being a fan of Barry Manilow. The hell?
No, the real perfect time for him to have said something was later that week, when he got Blaine to admit his crush. Why couldn't he have just said, "It's cool because I'm into you too!" Instead, he'd just said some lame-ass shit about it being okay and kind of flattering. Seriously, Sam, what the fuck?
He really had been on the verge of spilling his guts when they were hugging it out and he felt Blaine's hard cock against his leg. But it wasn't his cock, it was just breath mints. So he lost his nerve. Again. Maybe if Blaine had noticed Sam's hard-on...but he hadn't.
That hug was really awesome. Every time Blaine touched him was pretty awesome. But that hug...
What if, when Sam said, "Please tell me those are Lifesavers in your pocket," instead of saying they were, Blaine had gotten all embarrassed and admitted it wasn't a roll of candy. He would have been all like, "I can't help it, Sam, you just make me so horny. Please don't hate me," and Sam would've been like, "I don't hate you, dude. In fact..." and he would have taken Blaine's hand and placed it on his own hard dick, and, oh Jesus...
He had started stroking himself without realizing it. He continued, imagining it was Blaine's hand instead of his own. Blaine, baby, don't stop. You don't have to be gentle—
Crap. His phone was ringing, and it was his mother's ring tone. He let go of his dick and scrambled out of bed to answer it.
"Sam? I'm sorry, were you asleep?"
"Not really. Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine. I'm sorry to call you so late, but I was excited and wanted to tell you right away. Your Aunt Susie said she could drive out this weekend and watch the kids this weekend, so I'm coming up to visit you Friday!"
"Mom, that's so great!" He didn't try to play down his enthusiasm, because even if it was lame, fuck it, it was his mom and he really was happy he'd get to see her soon. Almost happy enough to forget about what he'd been interrupted in the middle of.
Almost, but not quite. After he got off the phone he just wanted to go to sleep, but he wouldn't be able to until he'd taken care of something.
He put his cell phone on the dresser, and from the top drawer he pulled out Santana Junior. He knew from prior experience—Brittany had insisted!—that he could get there faster with a little battery power than with just his hand. Now where was he before he got interrupted? Oh yeah: Blaine, baby, don't stop. You don't have to be gentle, yeah, just like that. Yeah, you can suck it. Suck it, Blaine. Suck it, oh God...
He cleaned himself up with his shirt, dropped it and Santana Junior on the floor, and fell asleep immediately.
