Sam hasn't heard from Santana all day. He thought maybe their argument yesterday would just blow over, but it is past noon and he's a little nervous. He's not sure if that means he's fired because Santana told him they'd be spending more time together and he worries she's changed her mind. She loves keeping him on his toes and he hates the uncertainty of it all. So instead of worrying, he takes the rugrats to McDonalds for lunch and figures they can run around the playground for a while. He can't really keep them occupied in the motel room all day especially when they're accustomed to spending their time at Santana's.
Sam's almost finished with his Big Mac when he spots a familiar face, and she makes a beeline for him once she's done ordering her food.
"Where's Santana?" Brittany asks with a hint of excitement, "Is she in the bathroom?"
"Uh no Brittany, I'm sorry. She hasn't called me. We're either in a fight or I'm her new best friend."
"Hard to tell sometimes, isn't it?"
"Yeah how do you- oh, I think your food's ready."
"Yep, that's mine. Be right back."
Brittany's at Sam's table again in a flash, smiling over at his sister who seems to recognize her.
"What were you saying before? Oh hang on, Santana just texted me. It says: if Fish wants to keep getting paid to be my bitch he better be at my house in an hour," then Brittany adds, "To be honest Sam, you should've asked for a lot more money."
"Huh?"
"You make a hundred bucks a week, right? Say on average you work eight hours a day, five days a week. That's only two-fifty an hour. I hear the Lima Bean is hiring. You could try there."
"Yeah, but I don't work forty hour weeks. I barely work at all. I have a lot of down time. Or I did until she made me her personal assistant."
"Ask for a raise then since you got a promotion. I know what you're thinking though. How could I have ever possibly figured out that basic math?"
"No I wasn't. I don't think you're like that at all. I get numbers jumbled up in my head a lot. I guess one hundred dollars sounded better in my head."
There's a brief silence until Brittany breaks his train of thought saying, "She says I'm making excuses not to be with her. That's why we're fighting. I know you want to know because you stuck around my house for about twenty minutes trying to figure out if you should leave. She always thinks she wants something until she has it. Take the home gym for example. It collects dust down there. The trampoline, the moon shoes, and Barbie's dream townhouse all reside at my house now."
"Yeah, but Brittany, those are all things. You're the person she cares most about in this world. You're probably the only person she cares about."
Brittany was on the verge of crying before, but now the tears are flowing free. Sam sighs, but pats her back to comfort her. After a while the sniffling subsides and Sam looks at his watch only to realize he's got thirty-seven minutes before he has to be at Santana's.
"Sam?" Brittany asks, "Here, how about I pick up some Breadstix and take it over there. You should also probably buy her a present. Just in case you wanna bargain with her. Or if you'd rather blackmail her she'd appreciate that too."
Sam looks down at the bag in his hand. Walkie-talkies were his favorite as a kid and he figures Santana might like them too. The nanny lets him and she ushers the kids out back to the pool while he starts to make his way to Santana's room, but stops when he hears a voice.
"Sam? Is that you? Why, it's nice to see you again dear," Mrs. Lopez says as she quickly shuts the basement door.
"Hello, ma'am. I'm just going to head up to see Santana," he replies. It's not that he doesn't like Mrs. Lopez; it's just that he's only ever met her once and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
"Well, I wasn't aware that you two were dating again. But then Tana never really tells me anything these days. She could certainly use a nice guy like you though. I never caught you trying to sneak in or out like that rude Puckerman boy."
Sam just nods, not bothering to neither confirm nor deny Mrs. Lopez's suspicions and makes his way to Santana's room. The door's cracked and he feels guilty for listening in.
"I'm just saying, Santana, Italy wasn't built in a day," Brittany concludes.
"Don't you mean Rome?" Santana responds, but her tone isn't harsh like Sam expects.
"Nah, it took even longer for Italy. First there were lots of volcanoes and shifting tectonic plates and erosion. It took thousands of years to make it that cute boot shape."
"So you're saying it's going to take that long for us to be together?"
"No, I just mean that we should take it slow. You haven't come out to everybody yet, not that the glee club hasn't figured it out."
There's some shuffling that sounds like Styrofoam takeout boxes, without a doubt from Breadstix. Sam chances a peek inside to see the two girls hugging. Brittany's back is to the door, but Santana catches him watching, interrupting their moment.
"About time you showed up, Macaulay Culkin," Santana calls out, "I can smell your fish scent a mile away. You can come in only if you brought me a little somethin-somethin. That's your punishment for eavesdropping."
A grinning Brittany lightly smacks Santana's leg and the two share a meaningful glance. A guilty Sam sheepishly makes his way into the bedroom with his gift in hand. He hands them over to his boss with only a mumbled, "I hope you like them."
"Sweet," Santana says, "Dave still has my pair from the Bully Whips. I was going to get another set, but I figured you might overdose on nerdiness. Anything else you want to add there? Like maybe how sorry you are for getting us kicked out of the gym?"
Sam doesn't reply or assert that it was her fault so she continues, "Brittany already told me what you want. I'll talk to my dad about a raise, but I can't promise anything. There is a party Friday night and if you take me and Brit, I'll give you fifty extra out of my own pocket. Well, I guess it's still coming from my dad, but whatever."
"Yes Miss Santana," Sam nods, "What's on the agenda for this afternoon?"
It's a baby step, but hey, Italy wasn't built in a day.