I am so, so, so, so sorry about the horribly slow updates. I'm an awful person, you can tell me. To make up for it, I've tried to make this chapter a little longer than usual. Originally, this was supposed to have been written as 2 separate chapters but I've squeezed them together as an apology. Also, a lot of you guys asked told me you want Rachel to appear and you may be pleasantly surprised. I may add a Finchel plot line. I hope you'll enjoy and appreciate it - I think it's safe to say that a lot of drama occurs!
Sam opted to remain at the reunion a little longer. After Finn had warned him, he was beginning to regret his decision to allow Quinn to leave with Noah. He didn't like the idea of his wife and Noah Puckerman riding around the town like lunatics and high off booze at all but he refused to be the controlling, manipulative husband. Therefore, he just hoped that small-talk and chit-chat would take his mind off of the opposing matter.
It was never forgotten - the issue played on his mind for the majority of the night - but as soon as he caught his first glimpse of Rachel Berry, the feelings simmered down slightly.
She sauntered through the doorway in all her glory. Sam immediately felt for Finn, who had only tried to be the voice of reason, and would now be forced tolerate the fact that his ex-girlfriend whom he still seemed to still feel deeply for had made a jaw-dropping appearance. Then again, Rachel Berry never often made an entrance which was anything but enticing and worth filming.
She burst through the doors whilst dressed in designer clothing from head to toe. Jesse St James himself held her arm. They glanced from side to side, studying the previous classmates but other than that not paying much attention. Clearly not much had changed from high school. Life had done her good so far, Sam established, judging from what he saw.
Sam temporarily glanced over at Finn. The poor man was hanging his head down. He was clearly someone trying to contain the feelings he had for the brunette. He was finding it devastatingly difficult to cope with the current situation.
For a moment, Sam bit his lip and considered going over to support his old friend but then quickly decided against it. The last thing Finn would want was pity. Sam knew he could understand the feeling, despite all the bad blood that had passed between them.
Instead, he opted to make something a little more useful of himself; he became an obstacle in between Finn and Rachel. He immediately approached the soon-to-be Broadway star, sporting his most charming smile.
"Rachel!" he exclaimed happily, although he wasn't too sure Quinn would approve of their encounter. She still wasn't found of the brunette despite the many times Sam had tried to convince her there were good things about being obnoxious and awfully loud even if he had never really been so sure himself.
Rachel plastered a similar smile over her own face, planting her hands on her hips as she admired the man before her. "Samuel Evans!" she greeted him formally, "Well I never… you haven't changed a bit." There was a classic, old-school glamour in her tone, immediately causing Sam to feel the need to admire her.
Jesse paid no attention to Sam - they had only briefly met near the end of Junior year - but still watched closely as the two exchanged words.
"I would say the same for you except… well, you have. You look awesome, Rachel. Really awesome."
"Why thank you, Samuel. I have to say, I am exceptionally proud of myself for this drastic change of image. It may be a far stretch of the imagination compared to my teenage days of stockings and animal sweaters yet I feel… much more myself in this new clothing."
Sam hadn't been lying when he said she looked awesome; she did. Her silk red gown and heels with a fur jacket made his simple dress shirt and pants seem… well, simple.
"And how is your life nowadays, Sam?" Rachel inquired, a thoughtful expression now taking over her face. "Married? Working? Children? I'm intrigued to know more."
Sam cleared his throat. He had hoped he could have avoided the topic of Quinn, not only to ease his mind but to keep on the safe side of Rachel's feelings. Still, he wasn't about to lie. He was proud of his wife even if he wasn't pleased about what she was doing. "Well, actually…" he sighed happily, "I am married, yes."
"Oh wonderful! Simply enticing, Sam. And to whom would the lucky girl be, may I ask?"
"Uhm… Quinn, actually. Quinn Fabray." he admited with a shy smile, trying to ease the tension as he itched the back of his neck.
Rachel clearly tensed up at the mention of her former high school enemy but still somehow managed to maintain her polite façade. "Ah… Quinn. That name surely brings back some memories. Some of them perhaps not to pleasant, but still, memories all the same."
"Okay." Jesse finally sliced into the conversation, the singular word he used dismissive enough to send anyone away. "Rachel and I have a busy schedule. I believe your time is up, Mr. Evans. Have a nice evening."
Sam opened his mouth to protest or at least argue that you couldn't put a time on good conversation but Rachel and Jesse were already heading off in the opposite direction. With a sad sigh, he turned around and scanned the room for Finn. He met the taller man's eyes for a moment and all he could see was sadness. He offered him a comforting smile. It said 'I tried.'
Finn shrugged, pouting his lips slightly as he seemed disappointed. 'I know.'
Countless empty shot glasses were all Quinn's eye could see for a long stretch of the bar. Loud music almost burst her eardrums, mixed with the constant sound of drunken voices rambling mindlessly. The atmosphere was good, despite the stingy circumstances so she was enjoying herself.
Giggling to herself as she slammed yet another shot glass down, she began to applaud girlishly. "Yay!" she chimed happily as she rocked side to side. "I win!"
Noah sighed, chuckling slightly himself. "Man… what can I say? You're good, good enough to beat me."
Quinn laughed heartily again, pushing away the drowsiness she was feeling. The clock had already well passed midnight. She had assumed it was rounding up to one in the morning now, although she could never be sure as her mind wasn't exactly in it's most reliable state.
"Hey, where are the others you said were coming? I thought it wasn't going to be just us." she inquired. Despite the fact they had been out for about two and a half hours now, this was only just dawning her. The bar they were sat in was jammed with people yet in their party, there was only two.
"Oh." Puck glanced from side to side awkwardly. It was not hard to tell that he was conjuring up some sort of excuse, that was, if you were sober. "Well… they couldn't make it. They sent me a text before. I hope that's okay… just me and you?"
In any other situation, Quinn probably would have been furious and demanded that he took her home immediately. Yet somehow, her intoxication had seemed to numb her angry reflexes. She didn't feel annoyed at the slightest; she was enjoying herself and that's all that mattered to her.
Still, something inside of her was flashing her a warning although she couldn't seem to grasp the meaning of it. Perhaps it was the alcohol or possibly the fact that this was the first time in about 3 years that she'd had a night out on the town that was preventing her from responding to it.
When Quinn had first restarted her relationship with Sam in college, they often went on night's out. That was the standard college lifestyle. It was actually one of the things that helped them patch their relationship up, as they both enjoyed seeing a different side of each other. Quinn had always been constantly uptight and cautious in high school. When Sam had seen her so laid back, he thought it was a miracle to begin with. Later on, he realised she'd changed for the better. He fell for her again.
Things had changed since then, though. Things always changed, especially in Quinn's life. Nothing was ever constant apart from the change and she had enough in her history books to know that. It was part of who she was - why she was such a feminist who enjoyed been independent and often broken and reluctant to trust and love.
She was not as easy-going these days. Work, money, home life; it had stressed her deeply, changing the way in which her mind functioned again. She loved Sam, she really did. She just found it difficult to have a good balance of work and fun in their life when they had so much else on their plate.
Yet here she was, with Noah Puckerman, having the most fun she'd had in a depressingly long period of time. Surely there couldn't be anything wrong with that, right? At least she told herself that. I deserve this, she reminded herself, reflecting back on all those times when she had chosen to be responsible over having a good time.
"We should go home soon…" she sighed unahppily. Her words had an air of responsibility yet her they were terribly slurred so it was difficult for anyone to take her seriously. Her intake of alcohol had also caused her to bat her eyes slowly when speaking, her reactions slower. You only had to take one singular glance at her to know that she'd been drinking. "Sam will be worried and I know he'll wait up for me anyway no matter what I tell him."
She began to push herself up from the bar stool but soon realised that this was going to be a problem once her feet found the floor. She stumbled and tripped multiple times just attempting to get her balance and it was Puck who rushed to her aid just before she was kissing the ground.
"Hey, hey, hey!" he chuckled, holding her up by her forearms and standing her straight. "You're way out of it. You can't walk, MILF."
"I'm fine!" she argued although she was quite aware that she was in no state to go anywhere unless he was to carry her. "I can do this…"
"No, you can't." Puck sighed and added another light-hearted chuckle on the end. He yanked her back to the bar stool and sat her down. She protested at first but soon gave in, realising he was much too strong for her to fight against, especially when she was like this. "Look, just stay for a little while longer. Have a few more drinks, don't be so uptight. Then you can get a cab ride back with me. Okay?"
Quinn would have protested but her logic was faulty and she could no longer distinguish the warning signals flaring red inside of her. In her mind, nothing seemed shady or sinister about that proposal. "Okay…" she sighed with a finality to her voice. After all, a drink or two more couldn't hurt, right? Not when it sounded so good.
"Awesome." Puck mused, raising his eyebrows multiple times before calling the bartender over.
Just after they'd ordered their next round, a blazing sound began to arise from the opposite side of the bar. Puck could handle his liquor, unlike Quinn, so he was the first to react. He glanced over and recognised the source of the sound.
"Hey!" he chimed with glee, "Karaoke! Doesn't that just bring back memories, MILF?" he stared at her expectantly with a childlike grin.
Soon enough, Quinn's own eyes began to flare with excitement after slowly recalling their days in the New Directions. "Yes! Glee… the New Directions. Damn, those were good times!"
"Hell yeah they were!" Noah yelled over the now ear-piercing volume of music. It didn't take them long to recognise the song, their joy growing more intense.
"Sweet Ca-ro-line… duh, duh, duh!" they sang through drunken voices though somehow in unity. Quinn giggled hysterically, watching Puck mimic the movement of his fingers across the strings of a guitar.
All of the previous conversation was forgotten and Quinn found herself dragged up to the stage with the Mohawked boy to sing a song she couldn't remember the name of. Nothing was wrong with the situation because she wanted it to be okay.
Sam headed home not long after his short catch up with Rachel Berry. A few people had spoken to him half heartedly but Sam had soon realised that there was nothing much there for him. Plus, he wanted to be home when Quinn got back to see that she was safe.
And so he stayed awake. He had protested against that idea at the reunion but both of them were aware of the way it worked - they always waited for each other, despite what they said before.
Yet the waiting seemed a lot longer than usual this time around. He arrived home at about midnight after stopping off at a 24-hour diner to grab a bite to eat. Buffets with small plates of food that you could barely nibble on were nice for a school reunion but they weren't enough to satisfy Sam's appetite.
Once arriving home, he did the usual. It was standard practise; he'd flick through endless TV channels, play the odd song or two on guitar, perhaps even work out a little. But he did all of those things for a fair amount of time and nothing seemed to happen. There was no sign of her.
When the clock hit about half 2, he started to worry. Usually, he didn't like to call her because he didn't want to seem like he was trying to control her. Yet in this situation - her out on the town with Noah Puckerman, that is - it seemed like perfect logic.
And so he grabbed the house phone. He dialled her number, which he knew off-by-heart, and waited for some kind of response. But he got none apart from a distant ringing noise sounding from the kitchen. He followed the sound until he found her cell phone on the kitchen counter. Frowning and sighing, he mentally chastised himself for not realising that she always forgot her phone.
The seconds seemed like minutes, minutes like hours and so on. Soon enough, the clock had struck four and he knew something was wrong. If he wasn't so vexed and concerned, he would have been tired. Yet how could he even consider sleep when his wife - his beautiful, vulnerable wife - was out on the streets, drunk and in danger. So he just rubbed his eyes, splashed some water on his face and forced the temptation of sleep away.
Once 5 o'clock came around, he was prepared to go out looking for her. He soon decided that he'd rather her come into an empty house than be out there for the night, so he grabbed his coat and keys and geared himself up for a search.
He approached the door and reached for the doorknob. As he did, he was nearly knocked out as it was flung open from the outside. Luckily, his quick reflexives allowed him to step back just in time but he was no less infuriated than he would've been if it had slapped him straight in the face.
Quinn sauntered in, tripping over her own feet as she did. Behind her stumbled Noah Puckerman, laughingly loudly and obnoxiously as he clung to her waist to support them both. Sam was so angry at what he saw that he struggled to find words for a long time.
As soon as they were through, he slammed the door shut furiously. "What time do you call this?" he screeched, feeling oddly like the uptight parent.
Both Puck and Quinn seemed to notice him for the first time. Quinn was the first to speak after slowly blinking multiple times. "Sam… I thought you weren't going to wait up."
"Nonsense." Sam scoffed, his face repelled at her drunken state. "You know that I always wait up no matter what, Quinn."
"How would I?" she argued, "We haven't been out a night in years."
"Oh don't give me all of that bull!" he rolled his eyes, "That's not a valid argument, Quinn. We're married; you know me well enough to know what to expect of me." There was a short pause whilst Quinn averted her gaze to the floor. "And you!" Sam laughed humourlessly, pointing the finger at Puck, "I knew I shouldn't have trusted you with her. You're just as bad."
"Hey!" Quinn yelled, her previously laid-back attitude now becoming argumentative and raging, "Don't treat me like a child, Sam! I can take care of myself perfectly well on my own. I don't need you or Puck or anyone to look after me."
"Oh, please!" Sam laughed sarcastically, approaching her slowly, "Look at you, look at the state you're in; you're not fit to do anything! You can't tell up from down!"
Quinn's head fell to the floor. Her expression converted again, this time more hurt and offended. That insult had obviously hit home.
Puck soon jumped into the argument. "Hey! Chill out, man. Don't speak to her like that."
"Don't act like you have any rights here." Sam spat, getting right up in Puck's face. He was in no mood to be told what and what not to do when it came to his wife by the jerk that had got her pregnant and almost ruined her life.
"Sam, just-… leave him alone, please. Can we talk privately?" Quinn asked. It was probably the most reasonable thing she'd said all night; she still wasn't sure were that logic had came from. Perhaps it was the embarrassment or the fact that she was thankful to Noah for showing her a good time and she didn't want Sam to come down too heavily on him.
Sam agreed reluctantly, glaring angrily at Noah before following Quinn to the kitchen. He closed the door behind him and turned to face her, finding that she had her arms crossed gently over her chest. She averted her gaze, somewhat ashamed of the situation they had found themselves in.
"What the hell is this?" he forced the question upon her immediately, running over to her with a fury on his face that was impossible to ignore. "You go out with him, say you won't be late and you'll be careful; then you come in totally blitzed off your head from booze at five o'clock in the morning! Do you know I was just about to go out searching for you?"
Quinn seemed lost for words so she just continued to stare at her elbows, trying to find some inspiration or a voice. "We were having fun… I lost track of time…"
As soon as Sam distinguished her words where had been masked by slurring, he let out a heavy breath of disbelief, almost falling to his knees. "You've got to be joking." he murmured through clenched teeth with a threatening tone.
"I don't know what to say, Sam! You're scaring me…"
"I'm scaring you?" he screeched, no longer caring to maintain the level of his voice quietly as he had before. "You scared me, Quinn. You have no idea how worried I was. You're fucking insane!"
"Hey, watch your mouth!" she argued back for the first time, "I'm your wife, not your daughter. Start treating me with some respect."
"Oh, I'll treat you with respect," Sam scoffed, "as soon as you learn to handle your liquor! You have no idea how incredibly stupid you're being right now." The way he spat the words out with such venom in his voice expressed his intense fury and also yanked up a gut-wrenching pain in the pit of Quinn's stomach.
"Why are you being so mean…?" she whispered quietly as his face got closer and closer to hers. Not once in her life had she seen him act this way around her. Tears began to brim in her eyes but she hadn't allowed them to fall yet. She wouldn't as long as he didn't push her too far; he was hurting her feelings. "Don't you trust me?"
"How can I trust you when you do this?" he lashed out at her, grabbing her cell phone from beside them on the kitchen counter and launching it at the wall. The sound of the impact it made and then smashing into millions of pieces frightened Quinn, causing her to quiver and jump, stumbling back a few steps. A single tear drooled down her face.
"Hey!" Puck called from the door. Sam glared around swiftly to find the Mohawked boy standing with a defence stance. "I think you need to leave."
"You can't tell me what to do in my house!" Sam laughed, as if anything could have been funny.
"Then why don't you let Quinn do the talking for once, huh? It's her house too."
Sam scoffed. He then realised that Noah was serious. With a surprised grin, he turned to face his blonde wife who was cowering in the corner with fear. Both men watched her expectantly, waiting for an answer.
"Just go…" Quinn finally whispered as she shivered. Her voice was barely audible, only carried by the slight breeze which floated in from the open window.
Sam almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. His earlier cocky grin faded to something of shock and confusion. "What…?" he murmured, his voice almost as quiet as hers.
"You heard the lady." Puck spoke up again, strolling towards Quinn protectively. She looked at neither of them, though. She was too occupied, trying to hide the tears which were now freely flowing down her face. "You need to leave."
Just as he was about to argue, something inside of Sam awoke him. She doesn't want you here, he informed himself. He had parted his lips but instead of speaking, he closed them. If she didn't want him here, why should he stay? He didn't want to be here, didn't want to see her like this. He didn't want to see her at all.
"Fine." he spat, the corner of his mouth twitching with rage. "I'll go; but don't expect me back any time soon."
The last thing he heard was Quinn's whimper as he whipped around on his heels and headed to the bedroom to pack his bags.
It was always colder this early in the morning, Sam established. As he wandered through the streets of Lima, the chilly breeze nipped at any vulnerable piece of skin he had. The difficulty of this situation increased with the heavy suitcase he lugged around.
In all honesty, he hadn't really been thinking straight when he had flung all those bits and pieces together. He just knew that he needed to get out of that God damned house. Because if she didn't want him to be there, then why should he stay? It's not like he needed her. Not now, anyway. Not in that state.
He hadn't even thought of where he would go. He left the car because his keys were in the kitchen where Quinn had remained to sob uncontrollably, a terrible fit of tears overtaking her like some kind of spirit had creeped through her soul. He didn't want to look at her. He didn't want to look at Noah either.
The idea had soon hit him as soon as he'd left the house. He knew where he needed to go and he knew he'd be welcome because of his situation, despite the time. The circumstances may not have been as bad this time around but at least this person understood what it was like to feel Quinn pulling away from you, to know that she hadn't wanted you.
He knocked upon the door, aware that this was where his friend in his time of need would be. It was quarter to six in the morning. He wouldn't mind waking up just a little early.
After what seemed like a wait of one hundred years, a tired Finn opened the door whilst rubbing his eyes to find Sam shivering and crying silently.
"Sam…" he spoke, his eyes lingering up and down his former friend's body. He recognised the suitcase and soon established the situation. He may have been slightly out of it sometimes but he knew this feeling when he saw it. "Come in." he invited him inside solemnly, stepping aside and allowing the blonde through.
It wasn't long until Sam had fallen into a fit of tears similar to Quinn's, only this time he was curled up on Finn Hudson's sofa.
I know I left it lingering a little at the end but hopefully my updates will speed up… again, sorry about that. I'm also going to update my other Sam and Quinn fic soon so you can read that while I'm writing the next chapter :3 Also, I'm going to start asking that we reach a certain number of reviews before I update. Do you think you guys can possibly reach around 90? I know it's a lot to ask but just tell me what you like, what you didn't like… it's not a firm number so you're welcome to go above ;) I'm pretty easy-going! Thank you for reading!