A/N: Yay, reviews! You guys are splendid. In answer to a few questions I've gotten, no, Brittana hasn't happened yet. This story started around October of their junior year, and it's almost December now. I want Sam and Santana to be friends first, so she has someone she'll go to, especially when we get to the Hurt Locker scene. If Santana's acting sketchy, it's because she's still in denial. We'll get there. Yes, I do plan on making Sam friends with Britt. She kind of already is, but we'll get some more Brittany-Sam interaction too. Quinn is also going to have more of a role in the future. I have a soft spot for the Unholy Trinity. Sam's story is going to come out (he he...pun.) within the next two chapters, and there will be a big story climax within the next 5. So stay tuned.
Also, the rap they talk about is a real thing. It's amazing. Go look at it.
Disclaimer: Glee and its characters and all associated material are not mine. I'm just having fun.
Sam walked into school the next morning wincing with every step she took. It had been a particularly bad night last night. After she had gotten home from Santana's, she walked in to find her father watching a game show on the couch, liquor in hand. After they had realized that he wasn't paying his tabs, the local bars had started banning him from coming. This meant that he was always home now, getting drunk on whatever he could get from the ABC store. Judging by the way his eyes took a while to focus on her as he acknowledged her arrival, it wasn't his first drink of the night.
"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded.
"Out. I was at a friend's finishing a project."
"Which friend?"
"Santana Lopez, Dad. Her father Carlos owns the big white house over by Ralph?"
"Lopez…..Lopez….yeah, yeah. I know him. What were you doing over there?"
Sam sighed, trying to be patient. If she lost her temper with him, he'd punch her for sure. "Finishing a project. For history. I told you about it this morning?" she tried.
"Don't you get an attitude with me." He slurred. "Don't you dare get an attitude with me."
"I wasn't, I – "
"So now you're lying to me?" he asked, getting to his feet.
"No, Dad, I'm not, I promise. I'm sorry." She rambled, eyes darting back and forth as she backed away from him.
"You know what? You're an ungrateful little bitch. I feed you, put a roof over your head, and what do I get in return? A lying little dyke daughter who was probably out fucking some girl she picked up on the street."
Sam had backed up as far as she could go into the wall behind her. The door was on the other side of the room. She had nowhere to go. "Dad, please, I wasn't –"
Crack! He smacked her across the face. "You. Pathetic. Piece. Of. Shit." As he spoke, he emphasized each word with a blow to her body. "I can't believe I got stuck with you." he hissed. She cowered there, covering her face, whimpering each time he struck her. She refused to cry out. She had done that only once, and she would never do it again.
When he had had enough, he stepped back. After one last look of disgust, he turned around, went into his bedroom, and shut the door.
Sam just stood there, crying silently.
Needless to say, she hadn't gotten much sleep that night, and her body hurt like hell when she woke up this morning.
She would always lie in bed for a while on mornings like today's, thinking.
She thought about what life would be life if she could run away. But where would she go?
She thought about telling someone. Yeah, that would work really well. He's an ex-cop and knows how to play that game. "Why no, officer. My daughter's actually been feeling a little resentful towards me lately, I made us move after my wife's death….Yes. Thank you, it's been very hard. Well, you know how teenagers can be. Yes. Thank you for your concern."
And then he would beat the shit out of her.
If I had only gone to get Mark from practice that day….none of this would have ever happened.
Gym that day was particularly difficult. Ever since Madison outed her to the whole school, none of the other girls would change with her. Which was good when she had bruises to hide, like today. Unfortunately, Quinn Fabray had, for some reason, picked that day to decide she wanted to change on the other side of the locker room too, and Sam was now trying to get her shirt off, a painful process anyway, without Quinn seeing the giant purple mark on her shoulder.
"Oh my God. What happened?" Too late.
Sam turned around, plastering on a smile as she did so. "Oh, you know, missed the door frame. I smacked my shoulder into it as I was leaving my bedroom last night."
Quinn looked at her bruise, then at her face, then back to her bruise. Sam held her breath, she really didn't need to deal with this right now.
"Ouch" was all Quinn said. Sam exhaled.
"Yeah. Sucked."
She said nothing else to Sam for the rest of the period, but Sam did notice that Quinn set their pace slower than usual that day. Quinn won, but only just.
As Sam got in the car after school to head to Santana's, it started to snow.
Glee practice that day had been pretty intense. Schuester was preparing everyone for Sectionals, but everyone was still reeling over the fact that Kurt had transferred. Sam had been upset too, she liked Kurt, and that Zizes girl was not exactly a fair replacement. She understood though. People generally left her alone because of Brittany (and, she supposed, Santana), but Kurt had to deal with Karofsky literally everyday. Compared to her father, Karofsky was just a playground bully, but Kurt had nothing to compare it to. He made Kurt's life a living hell. And to be scared for your life? That was definitely something Sam could sympathize with. His dad was getting married soon though, so that was something. She was looking forward to the wedding. Weddings brought lots of happy people together.
She arrived at Santana's at 7 exactly, and knocked on the polished wooden door twice. "It's unlocked!" she heard from inside, so she grasped the cold metal handle and pushed the door open.
The house smelled like... cookies? She went into the kitchen, where Santana was…baking. Smiling slightly, she asked, "You bake?"
Santana rolled her eyes. "Yes, new girl. I bake. And if you ever tell anyone about this, I will ends you."
Sam was definitely grinning now. "Understood. Are the cookies for anything special?"
Santana got a weird look on her face. "Um. Nope. Just trying to kill time. Cheerios practice was short today so I was gonna cook till you got here. I just forgot when you were coming. I thought I was gonna have this all cleaned up by now."
"Ah. Well, no big. I'll go get stuff set up?"
"Sure."
They worked for another 2 and a half hours, and were almost finished when Santana found something on the internet. "This. Is. Sick. Look at it." It was a rap about Alexander Hamilton, created by the writer of the musical In the Heights, and was actually kind of amazing.
"That's the guy from In the Heights, right?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, guy's hella creative."
"So you've seen it then." Sam asked, glancing at Santana.
"What? No, I – " she trailed off.
"Santana. You recognized the writer of a musical by his face and the other day you called Rachel Yentl. Which means you've totally seen the Streisand movie. Look who you're talking to here. I totally don't care if you're a closeted Rachel Berry." Sam said with a smirk.
"Shut the fuck up, Pearson." Santana said, smacking her with a pillow. "I will never be that bizzare. I just like to keep up with my Hispanic brothas in the ghetto. And it's impossible to not learn a few Streisand references from listening to Berry talk all the damn time."
Sam immediately adopted a mock-solemn face. "You're absolutely right, Ms. Lopez. You have my apologies." Santana rolled her eyes, just as there was a knock at the door.
"You're an idiot. I'm hungry. Pizza?" she asked, as she got up to answer it.
"Uh, sure." Sam replied. She glanced at the clock. 9:37. She really should go….
"Hey, Sam's here!" came a bubbly voice from the door. Sam looked up. Brittany was standing there, looking very happy to see her.
"Hey Britt. I didn't know you were coming by."
"Well neither did I, but San made me cookies, and I got excited, so I came over." Brittany explained. Sam glanced at Santana, who was very pointedly avoiding eye contact.
"That's cool." Sam said simply. "We're about to order pizza. Join us?"
"Okay!" said Brittany happily.
The three girls spent the rest of the evening eating junk food, and watching Disney movies. Brittany was very excited that Sam enjoyed watching them as much as she did. ("Dude. High five. Best movies ever. How can you not like Aladdin?") It was getting close to midnight when Santana turned to Sam and said, "Okay, Pearson, you're really going to have to stop doing that."
"Doing what?" Sam asked.
"Glancing at the clock every goddamn minute. You got someplace to be?"
"Um….not really…its just that my dad…gets mad if I stay out late."
Santana looked at her skeptically. "It's a Friday night. I'm sure he'll be fine."
Sam still looked uncertain. Brittany, who was on the other end of the couch draped comfortably over Santana's lap, spoke up. "You should just stay the night."
"What?" both Santana and Sam spoke in unison.
"Well, it's snowing outside so it would be really dangerous for her to drive home anyway, and that way, she can just text her dad and say she's being responsible."
The other girls both looked at Brittany. Then Sam looked at Santana.
Santana sighed. "Britt's right. You shouldn't drive in this anyway. Just crash here."
"You sure?" she asked. "That wouldn't be weird?"
"Nah, it's cool." Brittany beamed at Santana.
"Well…" Sam said hesitantly.
"Please stay Sam. It'll be awesome if you did." Brittany pleaded.
Sam looked at Brittany. Damn, that girl's an effective begger. Fine. He is so gonna kill me. But you know what? Fuck him.
"Okay, I'll stay." She said.
He's going to kill me anyway.
