[Lima, Ohio]

Quinn

"Don't go," Sam says, winding locks of her hair around the fingers of one hand as he kisses her neck. "Please, Quinn."

She blinks at him, his words pulling her out of the pleasant haze that his touch always pulled her into. "On the road trip?"

He looks up at her, doe-eyed. "No."

Quinn sighs and rubs the small of his back, bobbing her head up to brush her lips across his forehead. "Sam, it won't be that bad."

His right palm rests gently on her ribcage, which is as low as he'll go without her permission. The way he looks up at her, even when his lips are swollen and his gaze feverish, to silently ask her if he can move his hands, makes her love him and want him in equal measure.

"Won't you miss me?" he asks plaintively.

"Of course I will."

"Connecticut and Ohio are over 518 miles apart."

Her eyebrows almost connect with her hairline. "How do you know that?"

Sam ducks his face away from her and mumbles, "I Googled."

"Sam," Quinn says firmly. "Look at me."

When he does, he has that kicked puppy look on his face again, except this time, she knows it's genuine. She reaches up and cradles his face between her hands, kissing him lightly. "Do you love me?"

He gives her this look, his eyebrows drawing together in complete mystification, as though she has asked him whether or not grass is green or if water is wet. "Yes," he says. "You know I do, Quinn. Why would you—?"

She puts a finger to his lips, and he stops talking. "Why?"

Now Sam appears not only confused, but concerned for her sanity. "You're perfect," he tells her, as if this should be completely obvious. "You're—you're the smartest person I've ever met, you have a great sense of humor, you're kind, you're compassionate, you're just—you're the best."

He gives her that half smile, the one that makes a dimple appear in his left cheek and his eyes crinkle at the corners. "Not to mention, you're ridiculously beautiful."

She is momentarily distracted by the fact that her beauty was last on the list and her intelligence was first. This, she thinks, is why I love you.

"And is any of that," she continues, regaining her voice, "going to change when I'm in New Haven? Are your feelings going to change?"

"No," Sam responds, with the stout certainty that he usually reserves for debates about which captain of the Enterprise is the best.

"Not even a little?"

"No."

"Not even a teensy, tiny bit?"

"Not even."

"So," Quinn drawls, fingertips drawing light circles across his cheekbone, "you'll love me, even when I'm at Yale. And I'll love you, even when you're still at McKinley…I think that means we're going to be okay."

He sighs and drops his head onto her chest, snuggling close so that he fits under her chin. "I know," he says, his voice muffled. "I just don't want you to leave me."

Quinn's mouth quivers without her permission, and she bites her lip hard to stop the tears that are beginning to line her throat. Except for her mother, Sam will be the hardest person for her to leave behind.

As much as she loves her glee club family, as unexpected and as deep as some of these friendships are, Sam is the one who got under her skin the most, in the best way. At first, it was more like a fever, creeping through her veins and frightening her with the scorching heat, and Sam was the only thing that even resembled a cure.

And then it was an infusion of strength, which Quinn knows she doesn't lack on her own, but this was different. Quinn's strength was steel and ferocity, a harsh snarl and a flash of claws. Sam's strength was in his gentleness, his generosity, and she never knew this could be a part of being strong, as well.

Now, she doesn't know how to function properly without him. If this had been anyone else, any other boy, this would have terrified her, made her feel weak, as if her feelings were a crutch. But it's Sam, with his smile that spreads slowly across his face and reaches his eyes before it's all the way across his mouth; who looks at her when he's laughing to make sure she's laughing, too; who will wrap his fingers around her wrist, as if to ascertain by the solidity of her arm and the warmth of her skin that she is real.

"I don't want to leave you, either," she says quietly, combing her fingers through his hair as much to comfort herself as to comfort him. "But we have this trip, and the rest of the summer…it's going to be fine."

He sighs, and she feels his breath fluting across her skin. "I know," he says, but his tone suggests that he doesn't really feel any better.

Quinn presses her face into his hair, inhaling the lingering scent of lemons that seems permanently woven into his scalp, along with the clean, simple scent of the shampoo he uses. When he goes home in a few hours, the pillowcase they're resting on will smell like this, and she loves that.

Her bed is slowly becoming their bed—his scent clings to the linens, she sometimes finds articles of clothing tangled with the top sheet, and this is where they spend most of their time when he comes over. They haven't had sex yet, but now it's less of her saying no and more of her saying not yet.

He's kissing her neck again, light, absent kisses that gentle and affectionate. Quinn hums quietly in pleasure, letting her head fall back, and he moves up her throat, his lips ghosting over her jaw.

"Mmm…Sam…"

His smile is a brand against her skin as he moves down to her collarbone with a light scraping of teeth. "I love when you say my name."

Quinn feels herself melting beneath him, every sensation dissolving—the mattress beneath her, the texture of her bedspread, even her own heartbeat—except for the feeling of Sam, his weight and his warmth and his touch. She runs her hands through his hair, oddly intoxicated by the softness of it, by the way the light catches on the strands.

He looks up at her, and he's still smiling, and honestly it almost feels like someone is punching Quinn in the stomach, because he's so beautiful and the way he looks at her honestly isn't fair—it's as if she's set up the sun and the stars and the moon, and lit the match that set them all burning.

"Do you want to know where we're going?" he asks. "On the road trip, I mean."

"Yes."

Sam grins. "Well, you'll have to wait. It's a surprise."

She shoves him off the bed, which only makes him laugh, and then he pulls her down on top of him.

/

They spend about twenty more minutes than they need to kissing against his car, because they find it difficult to part. She gently shoves on his chest after a while, hoping he can't feel that her hands are trembling just a little bit.

"You should go," she says, and laughs when he pouts playfully. "I'll see you tomorrow. What's the plan again?"

Sam thinks for a minute, and then says, "Rachel drives over to Puck's, I pick you up and bring you over there, and then we all leave in her car."

"And go…where?"

"I told you, it's a surprise."

She frowns.

"No, don't do that. That's not fair."

The frown deepens.

"Quinn…"

It borders on tragic.

"Come on, don't do that…"

It becomes completely tragic.

"Southern California!"

Her anguished expression is replaced by a wide, sunny smile. "Thank you."

He scowls at her, except it looks dangerously on the verge of a grin. "Puck is going to kill me."

Quinn kisses him. "I won't let him touch you, baby, I promise."