"I really need to get serious about finding a summer job," Blaine said as he settled back into his lounge chair. He closed his eyes against the sun shining right on his face, just this side of too hot to be comfortable.
"Oh no you don't," Tina said. "Your life is gonna be crazy when you get to New York; you need one last summer where you can really relax. Besides, if you get a job then you won't be able to spend every day at the country club, which means I won't get to spend every day at the country club as your guest, and I'll have to go to the public pool."
Blaine turned his head toward her but didn't open his eyes. "Aw, poor baby."
"Don't 'poor baby' me. You've probably never been to the public pool."
This wasn't true. At least, Blaine didn't think it was true. Surely he'd been to the public pool sometime. He just couldn't remember when. "Maybe you could call Puck—"
"Why would I call Puck?" Tina asked.
"Um..." He did open his eyes now, and Tina was looking at him weirdly. "...like I was about to say, you could call Puck and ask him when various backyard pool owners are usually away from their houses."
"Yeah. Good plan, Blaine. Very workable." Tina turned to lie on her stomach. "I'll get right on that."
"I'm here to help." Blaine closed his eyes again and stretched.
"So do you think you'll get back together with Kurt when you get to NYADA?"
"What!?" Blaine sat up and looked at her. "Why in the world would you ask me that?"
Tina sighed dramatically. "Sex, Blaine. Sex is good. I'm in favor of people having it, especially people who are my friends."
"Well then, I could ask you the same question about Mike."
"No, I will not be fucking Mike. Now answer my question about Kurt."
"No! I mean, I'm pretty sure fucking Kurt would be a terrible idea. God, listen to the language you have me using. I can see maybe being tempted to if...well, like you say, sex is good, but...I think I'd be better off having a one-night stand than using Kurt like that, when..." He didn't finish his thought, and Tina didn't push him to. She probably knew how that sentence would have ended: ...when I'm still in love with Sam.
She did have a point about sex being good, though. Not a very original point, maybe, but only because it was so true as to be obvious. Maybe he could fuck Sam over the summer? Sam might still be up for it, and he was single again. It could just be bros helping bros.
Ha ha, yeah, because that worked so well with Kurt. No, he knew he couldn't have just-sex with Sam. Not if they were going to stay friends, which he obviously wanted to do. He actually hadn't heard from Sam in a couple days. Should he call him? Or did the fact that Sam hadn't called him mean that he wanted to be left alone?
"Tina, do you think I should..." He abandoned his question as soon as he heard a soft snore come out of her. He might have been annoyed with her, but she did kind of have a point: that sun could really make a person sleepy...
He woke he didn't know how much later to the sound of his phone alerting him to a text. He read it, typed a reply, and then gathered his things and shook Tina awake. "I have to go."
She tilted her head up and blinked at him. "Why?"
"My mom needs me."
"Oh. Is anyone gonna kick me out if I stay here without my hosting member?"
"I doubt it."
She laid her head back down and closed her eyes. "All right. See ya."
XOXOXO
Sam got to the Lima Bean first, of course. He ordered a Diet Coke but then decided, Fuck it, and changed his order to a regular Coke. And since he was throwing caution to the wind anyway, he asked them to add some cherry syrup to it too.
He found a table he could see the door from and sat down with his cherry Coke. Man, it was so sweet and just so fucking good. The thought popped in his head that Lark would probably love this when she was old enough, but he immediately dismissed it.
Santana walked in and set a shopping bag down on the empty chair at his table. He didn't bother to point out that she was late. She disappeared without saying a word, but soon she was back with an iced coffee.
"You've been shopping?" Sam asked.
Santana looked at the bag. "No, this is for you." She handed him the bag and then sat down.
Sam opened it and looked inside. It was clothes. Wait, it was..."These are the dresses I bought for Britt."
Santana nodded. "All except that black and white striped one that looks like a prison nightgown. Brittany loves that one, plus she already got a jelly stain on it."
"But she should keep these," Sam said, trying to hand the bag back. "She needs maternity clothes, ones without jelly stains."
Santana didn't take the bag back. "She does. But she has people taking care of her. You should be saving your money for—"
"For what? I'm not gonna have any baby expenses."
"I was gonna say for college," Santana said.
Oh, right. College. He could go after all. This, surprisingly, came as a bit of a revelation to Sam. Still, he wanted Brittany to keep the dresses. "They weren't even that much. I got them on clearance."
Santana made a face and said, "No shit." She still wasn't taking the bag back, so finally Sam just set it on the floor between them. "Anyway, you texted me. What did you want?"
"I wanted to ask you...Are you and Brittany really back together? Like, officially?"
Santana sighed. "Yes, Trouty. We're together, like, officially, and you and Britt are broken up officially. Do I even have to remind you—"
"No, I don't want her back. I mean...that sounds mean, I don't mean it mean. I just mean that's not why I'm asking. I'm asking because...because I wanted to ask why you stayed with her, or not with her because she was actually engaged to me for a while, but why you never...why you took her back as soon..."
"Is this about Frodo? Do you want to get him back and so you're thinking of trying whatever Brittany did to get me back?"
It sounded stupid when she said it like that. But asking Santana's advice was the only idea he'd had so far, so..."Yeah, sort of."
"You know that Britt and I are totally different than you and the hobbit, right? Brittany and I have a long history. You guys were only going out, what, a few weeks? Besides, I know that the whole so-called engagement wasn't Brittany's idea. You pressured her into it."
"I was just trying—"
"I know. And that's why I'm not gonna tell Blaine how much you pushed her to marry you. I actually do hope you two get back together."
"So what should I do?" Sam asked her.
Santana laughed. "You're asking me? I've put the moves on every type of person except gay guys."
"What about Karofsky?"
Santana slapped her forehead. "How could I forget!? Okay, here's what you do: tell him you know he's gay and you'll only keep his secret if he goes out with you." She took a sip of her coffee. "By the way, did I ever tell you it was your ass I caught him checking out? If things don't work out with you and—"
"Don't even say it."
She shrugged. "Too bad. You and Karofsky would make a cute couple. I bet he'd wanna top, though from what Brittany tells me that shouldn't be a problem."
"Jesus, Santana." Sam glanced around, blushing. "Seriously, I have no idea what made me think you might have anything helpful to say."
"Hey, hey, Auntie Snix is always helpful. Let' see..." She drummed her fingers on the table for a minute before saying, "I've got it! What made me wanna date you?"
"Uh, you were pissed at Quinn? And Brittany? And you didn't want anyone to figure out you were a closeted lesbian?"
"True, but it was also your Justin Bieber Experience. Now, it did probably have something to do with the totally lesbotronic hair, but you singing "Baby" actually did something to me. And if it can get to me, a confirmed penis hater...well, penis indifferent-toer...just think what it can do to a confirmed penis enthusiast who's already in love with you."
Sam played with one of the ice cubes in his glass, pushing it under the surface and watching it float back to the top. "You really think he is still?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Santana leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Now why do you think I would know the answer to that? Why are you even talking to me and not to him?"
"You're right." He stood up, but then hesitated. What was he going to do, just drive over to Blaine's? He didn't even know if he was home. He should text him first. No, he should text him second. First he had to go home, get his guitar, see if he still had that purple hoodie, and try to get his hair all Bieberlicious. Well, no, first he wanted to finish his cherry Coke; he could use the caffeine and sugar. Okay, he had a plan. He gulped down the rest of his drink, burped (damn carbonation!), and headed for the door.
"Forgetting something, Trouty?" Santana called after him.
"Shit." He went back to the table and hugged her. "Thanks, Auntie Snix."
"You're welcome, but that's not what I meant." She handed him the bag with the unworn maternity dresses. "Now go," she said, swatting his butt.
XOXOXO
The doorbell rang at the exact time he'd told Sam to come over. All his text had said was, "Can I come over? It's not to ask you to help me with a crisis."
Sam was wearing a blue hoodie that he must have been way too hot in, and he had done something weird with his hair. He was holding a bunch of flowers in front of his face—roses, from Carole's garden. Well, "Carole's" garden, but he knew Sam had been doing as much to care for them this summer as she had. He held them out to Blaine.
"Sam! Thank you!" The roses weren't as well-shaped or as brightly colored at the ones at the florist's, but they were infinitely sweeter smelling; Blaine was seduced by their fragrance before even reaching out to take them.
"You remember the roses you bought me in L.A.?" Sam asked. "And how I carried them through the airport and all the way home?" Blaine nodded; of course he remembered. "I still have them. I pressed one inside every book I own."
"Really?"
"Uh huh. Well, it didn't work too well with the paperbacks, and I don't own that many hard covers. It worked great with the textbooks, even though I had to give them back, but I took the pressed flowers out before I did. Some of them kinda stained the pages, so whoever gets those books next year is gonna wonder what happened."
Blaine smiled at that. It was so Sam. "Well, uh, come on in. Let me get these in some water." He walked toward the kitchen. Sam picked up his guitar, which Blaine hadn't noticed there before, and followed him.
He found a vase, filled it with water, and as he was putting the flowers in he felt something sharp stab his finger. "Damn it!" A thorn got him; he was bleeding.
"I'm so sorry, Blaine!" Sam grabbed his hand and put the bleeding finger in his mouth.
It was...a sweet gesture, Blaine guessed, but he didn't think Sam's spit was going to do his finger any good, nor did he think swallowing his blood would do Sam any good. He gently pulled his finger out, saying, "It's fine." He just let it bleed as he arranged the flowers, more carefully this time, and then turned back toward Sam. "So...what's up? Did you want to talk about something, or just hang out, or...have a sing-a-long?"
"Oh!" Sam looked at his guitar as if he'd forgotten it was there. "Yeah. You, uh, you never got to see my one-man band."
Sam started brushing his hair forward, and it was only then that Blaine realized what it was that was so weird about the way he was wearing it. "Justin Bieber," he said.
Sam nodded. "You heard about it? The Justin Bieber Experience?"
"N-no. I just...your hair."
"Oh, yeah. It's part of the experience. I used to, like, sing at birthday parties, bat mitzvahs, that kind of thing. I made a little money..."
"Uh huh. And so you're thinking of starting again?"
"Not exactly," Sam said. "I wanted to...God, this is stupid. I never should have listened to Santana. I just...I was gonna sing to you, but...I mean, guys don't even like the Biebs, even if they are...I mean you're not a lesbian."
"No. I'm not a lesbian."
"Well..." Sam fiddled with his guitar. "Would you mind if I sang to you anyway? I mean, I practiced and everything."
"Of course I wouldn't mind."
Blaine hopped onto a stool, because he remembered that Sam felt very strongly that the serenadee—was this a serenade?—couldn't be standing. But apparently a kitchen stool wasn't right either, because Sam took him by the hand, pulled him into the living room, and waited until he sat on the couch.
And then Sam launched into "Baby." And it was sort of...Blaine was not a Justin Bieber fan. Not even in a secret, guilty pleasure way. But Sam was so sincere and earnest and...really sort of adorable. And when he finished the song and set down his guitar, and when he flipped his hair off his face...well, when Sam asked him out on a date after that, he didn't even think about it, he just said yes.