Chapter 2

Say a Little Prayer

Notes: Established Puck/Mike/Tina. Forgot to mention that last chapter for anyone who hasn't read the previous stories.

Enjoy : )

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Kurt had raised one carefully groomed eyebrow at Dave; a mock-dubious expression on his face that the football player knew was a cover for immense feelings of smugness. Kurt's hands were clasped above of his chest, elbows resting on the table in front of him for looks alone, no stability necessary because of his perfect posture, his expression reminiscent of a cat catching its prey.

This professional yet celebratory elegance was slightly put-off due to Mike's frantic movements behind Kurt, shoving papers and markers into his backpack carelessly (it was that disorganized method that had led to Dave's serendipitous pamphlet discovery all those weeks ago, you would think the dancer would learn to be more careful).

Dave stared at Kurt, doing his best to convey "Get real, I know what you're up to" and "I sort of want to use your evils to my advantage" with his eyes so he wouldn't actually have to, you know, say it.

In front of him, Kurt raised his other eyebrow, refusing to submit, not at least without oral confirmation, because that was his loophole. Behind him Mike yanked a folder out of his backpack and let out a startled curse, papers exploding everywhere.

The depressed look the danger got on his face was almost enough for Dave to break his staring contest with Kurt. Almost.

Dave had bigger fishes to fry.

"Kurt," he said, tersely.

"Dave," Kurt replied, tone perfectly charming and calm which was impressive in itself, considering the amount of mad scrambling Mike was doing behind him, trying to gather up every piece of loose paper all in one go and failing miserably. Or at least, that was what Dave had discerned from his peripherals. His eyes were still on Kurt's.

"So…" he began, letting it hang there, and Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"So?"

"You're scheming," Dave declared, then watched carefully for a reaction.

He got none.

Kurt looked dubious. "I'm scheming?" he asked, tone implying something along the lines of "Can you believe this guy? Such tall tales he spins."

Dave frowned. "I apologize," he tried again, refusing to let Kurt deter him. "You're both scheming."

Kurt gave him another stupidly smug smile because he wasn't going to admit anything until Dave told him what they were scheming about.

The smile widened. "Well now you're just talking nonsense."

There was a sound of paper sliding across the floor followed by a definite "thump" and out of the corner of his eye Dave could see Mike fall to the ground face first, an armful of papers becoming airborne once more and cascading outwards to un-papered parts of the classroom. Were Dave looking at Mike he would have seen him rubbing at his face and making a depressed sound. But Dave was not looking at Mike. Dave had other things to do.

Dave stared at Kurt.

Kurt stared at Dave.

In the background Mike started to make a pathetic whimpering noise.

Dave broke eye contact first.

"Jesus Christ Mike-"

"I'm not good at this!" Mike's complained, throwing a hand out to gesture to the mess around him while he stared at it morosely. "Does this seem like the type of thing I would be good at?"

Dave shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, no."

Was the mess growing? It looked like it had spread. Dave wouldn't be surprised if Mike had managed that. He was the sort of guy who was great at finagling the improbable into existence. But as Kurt already knew this, that begged the question why he bothered recruiting Mike to help out in the first place.

Kurt caught on to Dave's questioning look and shrugged. "What he lacks in subtlety he makes up for in enthusiasm."

"I have skills," Mike protested, shaking a fist at them before Kurt turned and gave the dancer a pointed look, which immediately shut him up. Mike dropped his fist to the floor, prodding sadly at some of the abandoned papers.

Dave rolled his eyes. "Here just-" he began, picking up an armful of papers- holy hell they really were multiplying. "Let me help."

"No!" Mike yelled, and Dave had enough experience with frantic-Mike to dodge the tackle that was thrown at him; the dancer rushing right past him before tripping over a desk and collapsing onto the floor.

Dave sighed and gave Kurt a patient look. "You okay Mike?" he asked, calling over his shoulder as he moved to pick up some more discarded papers.

A shaky fist popped up from the other side of the desk. "I have skills," Mike declared stubbornly, despite the small waver in his voice. "…ow."

For the first time since the meeting began, Kurt dropped his poker face, giving a sigh of his own. "That's what happens when you overreact," he lectured, helpfully pushing some papers closer towards Dave with his foot.

"Says the guy who breaks into 'Rose's Turn' every time he loses an argument."

"What was that?" Kurt asked, tone sharp as he whipped his head around to glare at desk Mike was hiding behind.

There was a distinct fearful pause.

"…nothing," Mike eventually admitted. "I said nothing. No words were said." There was a painful, drawn-out exhale. "Now I'm just…going to stay on the floor until Puck shows up." Another wheeze. "If he remembers this time."

"I texted him," Kurt informed floor-bound teen, increasing his helpfulness by standing and nudging the outlying papers towards the center of the room. "But as that is probably doomed to fail, I also texted Tina, so you're good."

"Awesome," Mike said, giving Kurt an appreciative thumbs up before the arm collapsed back down again.

Dave wondered if he should start to be more concerned than he actually was. Or, he was concerned, but maybe he should actually like, begin to show it.

Kurt waved him off, as though he could hear what Dave was thinking. "He'll be fine; he's certainly gone through worse. Now," Kurt turned to face Dave straight on, hands positioned on his hips and adopting a look of no-nonsense. "What exactly can we do for you?"

Dave, to his credit, did not allow Kurt to stare him down and went along with the game, shrugging. "What you were already planning to do."

And up went that eyebrow again. "And that was…?"

"Is this about the fake detective agency thing?" Mike asked, still on the floor and thankfully sheltered behind a desk so he was unable to witness the look of pure venom Kurt threw his way. Dave figured this was Mike's attempt to have his back.

It felt so good to send his own look of validated smugness Kurt's way. "Yes Mike," Dave replied, eyes fixed on Kurt as the smile grew across his face. "That is exactly what this is about."

Mike sounded genuinely relieved when he replied. And winded. But mostly relieved.

"Oh good," he wheezed. "That's what most of those papers are about anyway."

Dave was in the middle of giving the paper in his hand a dubious once over just as Mike amended. "Or doodles of Puck. It's kind of fifty-fifty."

"I can see that," Dave declared, studying the drawing in his hands very carefully.

Kurt scoffed, giving some of the doodles a look of disdain. "You think with the amount of practice he puts into it he would get beyond stick figures."

"Don't mess with the classics man!" Mike protested, slowly starting to sit up. "If it ain't broke…"

"Fix it, dear lord fix it," Kurt mumbled. He probably wanted to take it back after the hurt look Mike sent him (Mike sort of took the wounded puppy eyes to a whole new level) and Kurt's disposition turned apologetic; he leaned across the desk and ruffled Mike's hair. Which, for some reason, was one of Mike's favorite things. Kurt was instantly forgiven.

Taking in the scene, Dave had to shake out of that feeling of fondness he had especially reserved for Mike. Mike had been first. Even if he had never been Dave's, he had always been first, and sometimes that fact hit Dave harder than it did others.

Mid-ruffle Kurt sent him a knowing look, because he was a freakin' psychic.

Dave glowered.

Focus.

"Look," Dave began, setting the stack of papers down on Kurt's original desk. "I just need you to say you lost something in the locker room. I'll plant some clues there, they'll lead to other clues and we'll just keep going until Sam gets bored with this or whatever."

And how was that for holding the cards to his chest?

Kurt's hand paused it's movements through Mike's hair, earning a small sound of protest that was tempered by a warning tap from Kurt, Mike immediately silenced.

"And that's the only reason why?" Kurt asked, and Dave was beset by two completely different sets of eyes, one all-knowing and down to business, the other imploring and kind, because they were all friends here and they had all survived through some pretty drastic ordeals so-

But Dave…he wanted to try this one on his own. He knew they knew. They knew he knew they…well, knew. And if the only thing keeping him back was coming out and saying "Dear lord, I wants to date me some Sam Evans and have epically rainbowtastic make-out times with him and have permanent claim to those guppy lips" (Santana, Dave had…yeah, he'd spending a lot of time with her) then so be it because if he could say that, without worrying it was all going to fall down around him, he would.

But he wasn't. All he had was the barest of maybes and even that was a long shot.

With Puck and Mike…well, they had all sort have known. Everyone else had seen that. Dave had even seen that and at the time he couldn't have given two shits, it was just sort of one of those facts you knew. Like how the grass was green and you need air to breathe, you just knew that Puck and Mike were heads-over-the-moon in love with each other, and it didn't really register, it was just an established fact. And you don't get mad at established facts, you couldn't change them, you could only accept them as they are and go with the flow. No point in getting worked up over it.

But Dave didn't have any of that. He was playing on the knife's edge, hanging out with Sam enough to maybe be intimate with him but not so serious that he could pull back if Sam cried foul. And the thought that…well, Dave hated the idea of it, but shit didn't always work out like a goddamn movie. This was life. And life was messy and stupid and chaotic and everybody didn't get to win, so Dave would just have to make do.

He wanted to handle this one on his own, exercise his own judgment and sure, if he turned out to be an even more hopeless than Mike had been then Dave was on board with some backup. He would reserve that as the emergency backup plan. But until then…

That was how Dave was able to give those eyes a nonchalant shrug (really seemed to be doing a lot of that today) and reply tersely. "The only reason you get to know."

Mike's reaction was bigger, physically pulling back from him and giving a hurt look. "Dave."

The football player sighed and held up his hands, placating. "Guys, I've got this one." He gave them both leveling looks, mildly pleading, "Seriously."

There was a short staring contest between him and Kurt, the other teen studying him carefully, chin held in his hand as he thought. Eventually he rolled his eyes and waved a hand at him. "Alright, fine. We'll leave it to you."

And Dave didn't quite chirp back, because he was David Karofsky and he did not chirp, but there was a certain tone of graciousness whenever he replied, "Thanks."

Kurt knew what he wanted. Mike probably knew too, or would figure it out later, or Kurt would just tell him (which was the most probable option as Kurt gossiped like there was no freakin' tomorrow and Dave was surprised he had held up as well as he did.)

Kurt gave him a serious look, crossing him arms. "But if you ever need help…"

Dave smiled. "Yeah, you'll be my wingmen."

Mike, having finally deemed the floor an uncomfortable place to be, finally stood up, popping his back as he sent Dave a cheeky smile. "We were thinking more like cohorts."

Dave shrugged, for what he swore was the last time. That day.

"Whatever works."

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Sam was chewing on his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he took down Mike's statement, pencil traveling across the front of his notepad in a speedy, haphazard fashion.

"So you lost your…?" he gestured at Mike to fill in the blank.

"Choreography notebook," the dancer replied eagerly, sending Dave a sly wink that Sam thankfully missed. Beside him Kurt rolled his eyes, doing a poor job of "emotionally supporting" Mike, despite that being the supposed reason for his presence.

"Cho-re-o-grap-y. Note-book," Sam echoed, sounding out the words as he jotted them down. He finished with a mad flourish, thumping the pencil against the front of his notepad as though ending a sentence, and looked up at Mike seriously, thoughtful expression on his face. "What did it look like?"

"Red," Mike answered, listing off the attributes of a notebook that didn't necessarily exist. It was all for the best, they decided. It was easier to hide a thing that had no chances of being found. "70 pages; dinosaur drawing on the front."

"What kind of dinosaur?" Sam asked, not looking up from his notes.

Mike looked between Kurt and Dave. They hadn't really decided on details. "Uh…T-Rex?"

Sam paused at the hesitation, giving the victim-in-question a suspicious look, which cued a rushed answer from Mike. "Or a Velociraptor! I'm not sure, Puck drew it."

He gave a big smile on the completion of his explanation, just a little too cheerful for someone who had been stolen from, but Sam didn't pick up on it. The blond shrugged, nodding like that was a legitimate excuse (and it was; Puck's way of staking claim to Mike revolved around doodling over most of the things he owned. The behavior was pretty much limited to the dancer as Tina would "Not put up with that shit, it is not as endearing as you think it is. Seriously Puck.").

Mike let out a quiet sigh; crisis avoided, and sent Dave a cheeky smile.

So far, so good.

"You would think," Sam began, quiet laugh tumbling past his lips as he finished up a rough sketch of the 'missing' notebook. "With all the practice he does, he would be better at that."

"Tell me about it," Kurt mumbled, glancing off to the side and giving out a small "umf" whenever Mike elbowed him in the stomach, never taking his eyes off Sam.

"I have not idea what you're talking about," Mike replied enthusiastically, forcing a manic smile onto his face to cover up his overprotective tendencies in all things that regarded his boyfriend.

Luckily Sam just waved him off, deciding that super defensive Mike was not a being he wished to do verbal battle with, and moved on, tapping the notepad in his hands. "Okay, whatever. So the notebook was taken from your locker?"

Mike was still trapped in hyper-tense you-will-say-no-bad-things-of-my-man land so Kurt had to elbow him back into the present, forcing the teen to let out a startled gasp. Mike followed this with a glare to Kurt and looked back at Sam, shoving his hand into his back pocket to root around for something.

"Yes!" Mike declared, a little too enthusiastically. "Yes, it was taken from my locker which was why we are here, in the locker room, where my locker is, and-" he shoved a crinkled up piece of paper into Sam's chest, nodding seriously. "That is an inventory of all the stuff in my locker as of now. I mean," he continued, Sam giving him a perfectly baffled look. "Now that I've taken my backpack and homework out of it and stuff."

Sam continued to stare at Mike as though he were a crazy person. Which wasn't, actually, that far off base.

Mike struggled not to make this look like the most obviously staged thing ever and failed, beginning to fidget helplessly. "So if you want to inspect my locker, for clues and stuff, that's a list of the stuff that should be in there."

The dancer looked back towards Sam, the blond still sporting a mildly pained look on his face. There were dots there, he could see them, he was simply unable to connect them. Dave shared a quick look with Kurt who was, most likely, wondering how this whole thing hadn't fallen apart by this point, and motioned to Mike's locker.

"Perhaps," he started and never had Sam looked more relieved for his interference, getting his 'Oh good, Dave will light the way' look that Dave had to convince himself wasn't strictly exclusive to him but secretly wished it was, that he was the only one who got that particular facial expression, and then he cleared his throat, reminding himself not to be such a damn girl when they had shit to do. "What Mike means is that if there are things in his locker that aren't his…"

He lets it trail off, giving Sam a meaningful look, and he could see the light bulb finally turn on, huge smile spreading across his face.

"That they're clues," he finished, clapping a hand on Dave's shoulder because he was proud of their teamwork. They shared a quiet moment, giving each other the two goofiest smiles ever (Dave couldn't help it, he just couldn't sometimes) and Kurt ruined it, clearing his throat and bringing Dave back into reality, reminding him he had a certain blond to corral.

"So we'll leave this to you two," Kurt decreed, covering up his amusement and giving Dave a knowing look. He grabbed Mike's arm gently, beginning to herd him out of the mostly-empty locker room. "Just send us a text if you find anything out!" he called over his shoulder, and with that Dave and Sam were left alone, standing in front of Mike's open locker.

Sam grinned cheerfully, shoving his notepad back into his backpack and rooting around for a camera he did not, in fact, have. It only took him a few minutes to realize this but by then Dave had his camera out and waiting in his hand, giving it over to the enthusiastic blond with no argument. The other teen smiled some more, immensely pleased with this turn of events, and zeroed in on the locker, snapping what was assuredly going to be far too many pictures.

Eventually Sam would find the crumpled up tickets to a community theater production of Beauty and the Beast Dave had planted at the bottom of the locker (it wasn't like Dave had gotten them for him and Sam or anything, and then totally chickened out at the last second. Nope, it wasn't like that at all).

Dave would give him ten minutes before he interceded. Until then, might as well let Sam have a good time.

Out of the corner of his eye Dave caught a movement by the locker room's entrance, nothing major, and he glanced over at it habitually, just to take stock of whoever was entering to know if any counter-measures would need to be exercised. If it was one of the glee kids, he would be fine. If it was an underclassmen, also fine, most of them were too scared to go anywhere near him. Any upperclassmen he would have to threaten or establish dominance with threatening eye contact (he practiced with Santana and Zizes sometimes, it was fun. Scary, but fun). Dave figured out of all the options it would most likely be a glee kid wanting to see "Sam & Dave's Detective Agency" in action for a few laughs. Dave couldn't blame them, it was easy entertainment.

Dave was right, in a way. It was a glee kid, it just- it wasn't any of the guys. And it certainly wasn't any of the girls he would have pictured finding this scene particularly hysterical.

There, hovering in the doorway was one Rachel Berry, staring at him with somehow disproportionately wide eyes, like they were larger than someone her size should be able to have. He glanced at her quickly, took a moment to process that he had indeed taken in the image of the Rachel Berry Sam was always telling stories about, noted her clothes weren't quite as horrible as Santana talked them up to be, then glanced back again to see if she had moved.

She was in the exact same position he had seen her in five seconds before, still peeking around the doorframe, eyes zeroed-in on all things Karofsky.

Dave was beginning to understand why Kurt used the phrase "manic intensity" to describe the short-statured Jewish girl.

He turned away quickly, though he knew she had seen him, and caught up on Sam's progress, the blond now moving out of the "take pictures" stage and onto the "measure/smell/inspect-very-closely" stage of locker clue-finding. Dave figured he had at least five minutes before he actually got to bagging any evidence, so he turned back towards Berry, giving her a long stare-down that hopefully said something along the lines of "I can do what I want so back off" without being overly aggressive about it. The last thing he wanted was for Hudson to get on his case for freaking out his girlfriend. Dave wanted submission, not fear of bodily harm.

Her expression didn't change any, nor did her posture. It was like she was perpetually stuck in doorway limbo, living part of her life in the hallway and forever gazing into the locker room for answers to mysteries she couldn't hope to comprehend.

Dave sent her an irritated look.

She did nothing.

Dave raised his eyebrows, going so far as to open himself up for questions.

She continued to do nothing.

Dave sort of wanted to throw a shoe at her, just to see if he could ruin the established pattern.

In the seconds he took to fight this urge (and feel bad about it, because throwing shoes at girls was never polite), Rachel did nothing.

It was a very productive couple of seconds.

Just as he was about to chalk up this exchange as the furthest he would get in his dealings with Rachel Berry, the girl stirred, finally done with her reconnaissance, and frantically waved him over. She was gnawing at her bottom lip, worry clearly written across her features, which was the only reason Dave decided to see what she had to say. Had he been dealing with her "bottomless pits of unmatchable bossy-ness" (Sam's words), Dave wouldn't have consented. He didn't need to justify his actions to anyone.

But she was here, and he had time to kill, and she would probably stalk him with that creepy wide-eyed look if he didn't appease her curiosities at some point, so he might as well get it over with now.

When he drew close she motioned him into the hallway, making a show of checking for other occupants which was…well, it was nice. Now Dave didn't have to. He could just sit back, listen to some concerned spiel and-

He was being dragged down the hallway, he noted absently, still in disbelief that such a tiny, delicate looking person could latch onto his arm with such unyielding determination. She steered them into an empty classroom just as Dave tried to shake her off, still baffled by this newest turn of events.

He collected himself in time to remember he would normally be upset by any manhandling and glared at the petite girl, making an effort not to cross his arms because Rachel Berry couldn't make him defensive. "What the hell Berry-?"

"What are you doing?" she whispered, as though they were still in the locker room and had to worry about Sam being just five feet from them.

Dave glowered at her; he knew the appropriate response to this one. "What I want, and I don't need permission-"

She glared right back at him, hands propped on her hips as she gave him a look of righteous fury. "You don't need permission to run somebody out of school but that doesn't mean you should do it!"

It hit like a physical blow, his lungs seizing in his chest (he had apologized, he knew that wasn't enough but he apologized-) and it took a second before he remembered to breathe, that he needed to do that, and he felt his glare falter, though he pressed on. It was Rachel Berry. Rachel Berry couldn't hurt him.

She charged onward, words spilling out of her mouth in a nonstop stream Sam had often tried to emulate. "Look, I don't know why you're doing what you're doing and I don't know why everyone else is just standing around like they're okay with it and I want you to know," she breathed and took a moment to steady herself, then looked him straight in the eye. "I want you to know that I'm glad you're doing it."

Dave had his mouth open, some condescending, insincere retort posed on his tongue, and he had to stop to process it, closing his mouth to just stare at her.

Berry actually started fidgeting, though it was very mild, her confidence only vaguely wavering. "I know I-" she cut off, then looked at him again, brown eyes searching. "I know we're weird, and I know people don't like to get near us and I don't want to freak you out but what you're doing with Sam…" She titled her head to the side, allowing a small, charming smile. "It's really nice. And I didn't really believe it when you said you turned over a new leaf, even after Kurt and Santana vouched for you, but I'd like to thank you, even though it's weird," her eyes lowered at the qualification because to her he was just another mindless crowd-follower, and feelings and looking deeper weren't in his nature. "For being friends with Sam."

There was a short silence where Dave didn't now how to respond, hadn't seen this coming, not after all the stories of how self-centered Rachel was, about the ego and the drive and the bluntness. Eventually Rachel started talking again, fiddling with a gold ring on her finger.

"I know we bring people down," she said. "I mean, the glee club. Finn and Quinn were the most popular kids in school and they still got slushied because of us." She twisted the ring some more. "Because of me," she added quietly.

They had another quiet lull but it wasn't uncomfortable because Dave knew he didn't have to say anything at all, the only thing he had to do this time was listen, and Dave could handle that.

Sure enough, her head snapped up a second later, determination fierce in her eyes. "But you can do whatever you want and no one will question it and you probably don't know it but you keep Sam safe from the bullying, even if he's in glee club, just by being there. You protect him."

She sighed and closed her eyes, squeezing her hands together like she was focusing on this one big thing. Eventually she glanced up at him through her eyelashes, gradually staring at him, head held high and proud. "So what I'm asking you is to please keep protecting him. I know it might not mean a lot to you but-" She shrugged her shoulders, finishing quietly, "Some of us should be safe."

He stared at her, so…it was bizarre, and he wanted to yell that of course he knew about all the shit he warded away from Sam Evans, he knew that his presence was a shield, and he never took that responsibility for granted. It had been one of the things Dave hated when his world had been about Mike, that despite how genuinely good he was and how non-conflicting and how the dancer was just all around kind and decent he still got treated like shit while guys like Dave, the ones that shoved kids into lockers and dumped slushies on their favorite clothes and brought bring them down because somebody had to be brought down, they were praised. They were safe because they were the attackers.

That shouldn't be right. He knew that was a stupid thing to harp on because it would never change, but it shouldn't be right.

It occurred to Dave that what Berry was doing right now was a huge risk for her. That she had spouted out her words before letting him get in edgewise because for all she knew he was hanging out with Sam for laughs and the side effects of his company could easily be taken away. That her commenting on it could take it all away, simply for being a bigger heart-to-heart than most teenage boys would consider putting up with.

He wondered if this was what it was like to be in glee club all the time. That this was the kind of real, meaningful conversations that they had.

Based on his past interactions with Kurt, with Blaine and Mike and Santana, he was willing to say it was.

It was no wonder then, that Hudson refused to leave them. Once you got sucked in, it was difficult to sacrifice a group of people like that.

…even if it was filled with the 'specialist, unique shining stars'.

Dave nodded slowly, trying to show that he knew, that he couldn't completely give up how he acted but he knew what she meant.

"I will," he promised, holding that brown-eyed gaze with his own. "Sam's my friend."

Rachel blinked, clearly surprised his answer was lacking in insults and nodded, mostly to herself, he thought, like she was processing what he said.

"Okay then," she murmured, swallowing. She gave him a meaningful look, like she wanted to study him further but didn't want to push her luck, and smoothed her hands on the front of her dress, moving to walk out the door.

Trying not to take up anymore of his time than she had to.

It was, unmistakably, sad. Dave found that he wanted to hug her, even after all the stories Sam had told him.

But there were limits and rules and he had a feeling that while she was willing to be open minded she was still too wary to accept a hug, so he called out after her instead, hands fidgeting with the side of his jeans.

"Listen Berry," he said, watching her whip back around just as she made it to the door. "You're not so bad."

He had meant for it to be off-hand but sincere, because…well, she wasn't that bad, and anyone who stood up for Sam, who stood up for her friends, was good in Dave's book.

It started off small, tentative, but eventually a huge, true smile broke across Rachel's face. There was the barest possibility of teary eyes as well, so Dave decided to look at the floor instead. Plausible deniability and all that.

He shrugged, would later claim he was uncomfortable to cover up a sudden wave of bashfulness. "Tell anyone I said that…"

"Mums the word," Rachel chirped back happily, mimicking a zipping motion across her lips, and Dave glowered.

"Seriously," he said. "Not even Hudson."

"I can keep a secret," Rachel urged, hands moving to her hips. The expression on his face must have clearly spoken of how little he believed that statement and Rachel burst out laughing, grinning at the taller teen. "You've been talking to Kurt, haven't you?" she asked, amusement dancing in her eyes.

"He's been talking to me," he explained, suddenly interested in his shoes. "I just haven't figured out to stop listening."

That earned him another trill of laughter, and when he looked up he could tell she was attempting to suppress her beaming, turning towards the door so that she was looking over her shoulder. "You're a better guy than you give yourself credit for David," she said, her smile turning a little sadder. "But I-" she held up a finger to her lips, winking. "Mums the word," she repeated.

With that she turned back towards the door, attempting to make her exit just the damn thing flew open, revealing a mildly perturbed Sam Evans.

The other two occupants were frozen in surprise, which was alright, because Sam felt like doing the talking anyway.

He pointed a wary finger at Rachel. "Kidnapping partners in crime? Not cool Rachel," he declared, squinting his eyes at her ludicrously. "Not. Cool."

"Sorry," the shorter girl replied, fondness unmistakable in her tone. "He's all yours now." She gave him a couple pats on the cheek as she walked past him and turned, sending Dave one last knowing look before disappearing out of sight entirely.

Sam watched after her, eyebrows furrowed in that confused expression he often wore, and Dave couldn't help but smile. It had, after all, been a very productive afternoon.

"What did she need?" Sam asked, hands fidgeting with the edge of his 'evidence bag'; two crumpled tickets inside.

"Just wanted to know if I was wasting your time," Dave didn't-quite lie. "As it turns out, I meet her approval."

"Awesome," Sam chirped, looking relieved. He smiled at Dave hesitantly. "I thought for sure she would have chewed you out or something."

And yeah, Dave's grin might have gotten dopey again, but he knew Sam would never judge him. "Nah, we're cool."

It was nice, Dave thought, that he was slowly but surely collecting this small group of indispensable friends. A guy could get used to that. With luck, there would be nothing to keep him from getting used to that.

But Dave wasn't a guy who relied on luck to get him through things.

He relied on planning. He relied on adapting. He would rely on working, because if he wanted to date Sam Evans, he would have to earn that privilege.

But Dave was willing to do that.

And riskier still, he was willing to hope for it.

On a wing and a prayer, he would hope.

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Endnotes:

Gahhh, ending chapters, why is it so hard? Sometimes. Why is it so hard sometimes? (Because if I don't specify the rest of the damn chapters will be out to get me, as they can be vindictive jerkfaces).

So Frosted Heaven suggested I add some Rachel Berry up in this business, which was all kinds of inspiring. It's like discovering a tool you forgot that you owned, and joy of joys it gives you so many opportunities to screw with Dave Karofksy!

…I might have lost the metaphor in there somewhere, but the point remains. Rachel Berry is now in the game.

(And you know, maybe I'll remember to use other people too. And not play my favorites. Except Mike. That goes without saying).

Many thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! Cem, Sammiam, Frosted Heaven, and Abby (Happy Birthday! Here is some Dave/shameless fluff and good feelings your way!).

In regards to Sam, I think of him as slightly dopey, maybe a little scatterbrained but always enthusiastic. I mean to do him no disservice; he is tied for my second favorite glee-boy (after Mike, of course. And tied with Puck. Bro power!).

So…I'm going to go figure out the next chapter. I'm thinking there will be theories. And more people pointing and being like "Does no one else notice this? Because this is notice-worthy." or something along those lines.

Until next time!