A/N: The chapter before the last chapter!
Enjoy!
xXx
CeruleanBlues
Whisper in my Ear
Chapter 49
Monday, 6.10pm
/Sam Evans
Taking Mike's advice—'cause the dude is usually right, anyway—I've gone back for a quick shower and a change of clothes. Blaine was home and he had suggested I surprise my girlfriend with some flowers, which is how I'm finding myself standing in front of Quinn's door with a bouquet of peonies—roses are too hardcore for me—in one hand.
After smoothing down the imaginary wrinkles on my shirt—and drying my clammy palms—I square my shoulders, hide the flowers behind my back and inhale a deep breath, preparing to knock. Just as I raise my fist, however, the door swings open to reveal a slightly-disheveled looking Santana Lopez. Her eyes narrow to slits as she regards me suspiciously from head to toe.
"What is it, Guppy Face?" she barks.
Are we back to the inappropriate names, then?
"Hello to you too, Santana," I reply as civilly as possible. "Is—"
She doesn't even allow me to finish what I need to say before turning around to yell into the apartment. "Fine; you win, Quinn," she spits out bitterly. "Damn Psychic."
There's a distinct giggle coming from inside and a moment later, her blonde head pokes out, tongue between her teeth. "Hey, Sam," she beams. "What a nice surprise."
Santana pairs her scoff with an exaggerated puking gesture and then saunters away. Leaning against the doorframe, Quinn folds her arms across her chest and gives me a languid once-over. A wave of manly pride crashes through me when I see the twinkle of approval in her gorgeous hazel eyes.
"What was that about?" I ask, referring to Santana's previous statement.
Quinn chuckles in amusement. "She made a bet, and she lost."
I smirk at that amateur mistake.
"You look nice," she comments, her tone teasing and playful. "What's the occasion?"
Without saying a word, I pull the bouquet out from behind and hold it out towards her. Her smile widens that much more, her face simply glowing with radiance as she accepts it, and for that short moment, I'm glad that I've had enough wit to listen to Blaine—cheesiness, clichés and all—because this is what makes the eight bucks totally worth it.
"It's beautiful," she whispers. "Thank you, Sam."
"Will you go out with me?"
Her head tilts a little in confusion. "I thought we already are."
"I mean, now," I clarify, making my intention clear to her, but when I see the corner of her lips twitch, I know that she's just messing with me. "For dinner; a date, just the two of us. With all the craziness happening lately, we couldn't exactly do things the conventional way—"
"And here I thought I'd have to resort to some very extreme measures before that happens," she drawls.
"So, is that a yes?"
"Yes!" Santana interrupts instead. "That's a yes. Please, spare me the torture and just go."
Quinn gives a shrug. "She did say 'please', so I suppose we'll just cut her some slack tonight, yeah?"
"Of course," I reply, snickering.
"Let me go get dressed, then."
Half an hour later, we're seated in a nice private little booth at the back corner of a quaint diner. It's a bit of a distance from campus so I've decided to drive us there; but it's not like I'm going to make Quinn walk, especially when she's wearing that cute pair of boots with those high heels. She looks stunning, obviously, and it's getting more difficult not to glare at every dude who remotely even glances her way.
"So, what's good here?" she inquires without lifting her eyes from the menu.
Good question.
Her eyebrow springs up when she catches my stray thoughts. "You've never been here before, have you?"
My face grows hot. "Is it that obvious?"
"I think it's cute."
I glance up at her, then, grinning like an absolute idiot. "Really?"
She nods, and we spend the next couple of seconds just staring at each other until a waitress saunters over and politely clears her throat. After squinting down at the menu for a moment, I decide to go with the Bolognese; nothing too fancy or flashy, and certainly nothing that might cause some pretty embarrassing situations. Quinn goes for the classic grilled salmon with a side of salad, and when the server leaves, I start fidgeting with the silverware on the table.
"I would think we'd be past that nervous stage of a second date by now," she teases.
A chuckle escapes my lips. "I don't think I'll ever get past it."
She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "You do realize we share a bed on occasion, and that we've seen each other naked, right?"
The image pops into my head, and with it comes a fresh round of heat that rushes down south where it's completely inappropriate in a family restaurant. I seriously hope that the dude sitting at the next table with his wife and six-year-old daughter doesn't realize I'm sporting a massive boner while they're consuming dinner. God, that would be incredibly humiliating—not to mention worthy of an arrest. I feel a pointed kick to my shin as Quinn tries to hide her smirk behind a half-hearted glare.
"Sorry," I murmur, shifting in my seat because my pants are sort of uncomfortable now. Clearing my throat, I dart my eyes around in search of a signage and try to seem as inconspicuous as possible. "I think I just need the…"
I trail off, but she gets the hint and gives a dismissive wave just as the waitress returns with two glasses of soda. She barely bats an eyelash when I shrink back into the seat, but the instant she turns, I'm bolting for the restroom. Fucking hell, why am I being such a hormonally imbalanced teenager? I might as well be sprouting acne right about now with how I'm splashing water on my face and hiding in the cubicle to calm myself down. Nothing works, though. I hop around, think of a million gross things, even attempt to recite every element on the periodic table, but my little soldier is still standing at attention.
Crap.
The door creaks.
My breath stills as I brace my hands on the walls.
There are footsteps of someone entering, light and tentative, and I seriously hope that it's not the dad from the next table.
A twist of the lock; followed by a telltale click.
Shit.
And then there's a knock, and my eyes widen in panic.
"Sam?"
I fumble with the catch, and when it swings open, I'm met with a very amused Quinn Fabray leaning against the sink, a smug expression on her graceful features.
"What are you doing in here?" I hiss, stealing quick, frantic peeks into the other stalls to make sure that there aren't any other occupants in the men's toilet.
"Do you need any help with that?" she asks bluntly, eyeing the bulge still evident in my pants.
Unsure of how to answer her without sounding too crude about it—which is ridiculous on its own because she's probably heard about an entire dictionary of lewd swearing and what not during our previous sexual endeavors—but we're in the restroom of a restaurant, for fuck's sake.
Damn, probably shouldn't have used 'fuck'.
Her hazel eyes glint with newfound mischief, and then she's stalking almost predatorily towards me, so close that her chest grazes the fabric of my shirt. Shakily, I suck in a mouthful of air, and when she deliberately places her hands on my chest, warm and steady, I'm almost certain that she can feel the rapid beating of my heart beneath her palms. She glances up at me through her long lashes, her teeth catching on her bottom lip, and raises herself slightly on the tips of her toes to give me a lingering kiss. It's soft and stimulating, and I'm tingling everywhere before instinct takes over and I'm grabbing onto her waist and lifting her up on ledge, enthusiastically returning her sentiments with my own.
She gasps, and then mumbles something incoherent about the cold tiles, but I'm way too busy nipping and sucking on that sweet spot behind her ear to reply. My fingers trace the outer seam of her skirt, bunching the fabric over her legs until my knuckles are grazing her inner thighs. Somewhere in the haziness, she gives my head a sharp tug and we're back to the ardent snogging. It's sloppy and urgent, and I don't think we've ever reached such heights before—considering what we're doing in a public restroom—and the thrill of it all, accompanied by unforgiving libidos, is enough to do me in till new year.
"Sam…" she groans, shifting in her position, and the friction it creates sends a bullet of desire shooting down where I'm already so stiff that it's starting to ache.
Clumsily, I flounder with the clasp of my trousers, and the zip is barely halfway down before she's impatiently tugging at my boxers and I'm all but standing half-naked, the denim pooling at my ankles, just staring at her.
"Really, Sam?" she hisses. "Of all the time to—"
I cut her off, then, diving in to seize her swollen lips. Tongues plunging and probing, we stumble back into the rhythm of the tango. Growling against her mouth, I reach for the top of her cotton underwear and unceremoniously drag it down the length of her legs, carelessly tossing it aside. She scoots closer to the edge, her moist heat bumping into the tip of my manhood, and damn, it's never going to be enough.
"You ready?" I ask; hands splayed across her lower back.
She arches an eyebrow, and as my face splits into a grin, I thrust into her in one smooth stroke. The sound that rolls out of her is pure orchestra—a cross between a gasp, a whimper and a sigh—and would it be totally creepy of me to want to record it for future playback when I'm in bed all alone?
"Sam!"
Monday, 9.45pm
/Mike Chang
I'm watching old reruns of my favorite TV show on the couch with a bowl of nachos on my lap when I heard a light tapping sound coming from somewhere inside my room. Puck isn't home—he has this stupid party he had wanted to crash despite it being a school night—and automatically, the investigative side of me takes over.
The first step is to identify the sound.
Reaching for the remote, I mute the volume of the television and listen.
It comes in sets of threes, pausing for exactly three seconds between intervals. There's nothing forceful or malicious behind the sound; if anything, it is rather polite, as though someone wants to get my attention or enter my room. It could very well be anybody from the building who's locked out or whatever.
Except that I live on the third floor.
And there aren't any trees outside my window.
Huh.
"Hello?" I call out, in case it really is some dumb person trying to climb in. "Who's in there?"
The tapping stops.
I listen for movement, but I'm only met with silence.
"Can you do that sound again?"
Nothing happens for a few seconds.
And then, very softly, I hear the triple taps.
Alright, now I'm intrigued.
The door is ajar, and as quietly as possible, I head into the room. Nothing seems amiss; the window is shut, the curtains are drawn back, and when I cross the space to peer out at the campus grounds, I don't see anybody lurking or loitering downstairs. The sky is clear and all; doesn't seem to be raining or hailing, or even particularly windy.
Still, I know what I heard; I'm a paranormal investigator for goodness sake.
Spying my cellphone on my desk, I reach for it and set it on record mode.
Time for an EVP session.
"Is there somebody in here with me?" I ask, sitting down on the edge of my bed. "Did you make that tapping sound?"
Nothing.
"Can you do it again, please?"
For the longest moment, I don't get a response, and I reckon it's just a false alarm. Deciding that it's probably nothing paranormal—a fluke in the weather at best—I make to stand up and leave.
But then it happens.
Three staccato taps.
Okay.
Well…
"One more time for confirmation, please."
Instantly, I get the response I wanted.
There is no mistaking it right now; the tapping sounds are coming from outside, but that's just impossible. Taking a few tentative steps forward, I reach down for the latch on the window before heaving it up. The cool gust of wind that brushes against my skin is a contrast to the warm night, and as I stick my head out to debunk all that I had just encountered, searching for a string—perhaps someone is trying to mess with me or whatever—I realize that there isn't a single explanation to the triple taps.
I can't exactly call it a paranormal occurrence without concrete evidence of sorts, but then I remember that my cellphone is still recording. After a quick rewind, I plug in a set of headphones to properly listen. My own voice rings back in my ears—the phone capturing the triple taps—but other than that, it's relatively quiet.
Until I hear a small giggle.
Monday, 10.20pm
/Sam Evans
Quinn and I are cuddled up in bed watching a movie on my laptop when the shrill ringing of my cellphone interrupts the gruesome scene that's unfolding. Heaving a frustrated sigh, I snatch the device from the bedside table, and after glancing at the name flashing on the screen, I hit the pause on the computer to answer it.
"It's Mike," I inform her. She nods and sits up so that I can properly take the call. "What's up, Mike?" I speak into the receiver.
"Hey, Sam," he replies, and the solemnness in his tone grabs my attention. "I—Something happened to me a while ago, and I'd like you to come over. There's something I need you to listen to."
I toss the duvet aside, swinging my legs over. "Are you okay?"
He pauses for a moment. "Yeah, I'm fine, but—is Quinn there with you?"
"Yeah, she is," I say, turning to face her while she's regarding me curiously. "Why? Is something—did something paranormal happen?"
Mike hesitates once again. "Just come over, Samuel."
He hangs up right after, and I take a couple of seconds just staring at my cellphone, trying to figure out his weird behavior, and then I feel Quinn's hand run up the expanse of my back to settle on my shoulders. She gives a comforting squeeze and I tilt my head to face her.
"Is Mike alright?" she asks, the concern written all over her features.
I shrug. "I think so. He wants us to come over."
It doesn't take long before we're dressed and heading for Mike's dorm. He doesn't live that far away so Quinn and I decide it's best to just walk and save all that gas from driving the car. Besides, it's a nice night out, anyway; breezy and warm, and speed-walking hand-in-hand with this amazing girl beside me, it's definitely not a bad thing. Ten minutes later, we're climbing up the stairs and knocking on the door to Mike's apartment.
"Hey, guys," he greets, breathless and slightly frazzled, and lets us in. "Thank you for coming over."
Quinn tentatively crosses the threshold, her eyes actively darting around, sensing the room, but she doesn't seem uncomfortable or bothered by anything.
"No problem, man. You okay?"
He nods, takes a deep breath and swipes a hand down his face. "Alright, so something happened earlier that I can't explain. I was sitting here, watching TV when all of a sudden I started hearing these tapping noises coming from inside my room. I thought it was a person, you know—maybe Puck was throwing stones on the window again—but when I went to check it out, nobody was downstairs. So, of course, I thought it was a coincidence or a trick of the wind, but then it happened again, and then it started happening on command."
"Wait, hang on," I cut in. "Happening on command? You did an EVP session?"
Silently, he pulls his cellphone out from the pocket of his pants and begins playing his earlier recording. Mike is a thorough investigator and a logical-thinker, and he has great gut instincts, so whatever he has in the clip, it must be something huge to trigger him this way because if there is one thing that irks him, it is not knowing what's happening.
The triple taps are clear on the recording, and then I hear a sound that sends a chill running down my spine.
"Was that a giggle?" Quinn murmurs.
I nod in agreement. "Yeah, sounds like a little girl, too—"
Her head snaps up then, eyes wide, and she's glancing towards Mike's room.
"Elizabeth?"
Monday, 11.05pm
/Mike Chang
Elizabeth?
As in that seven-year-old girl that's been following Brittany around?
That Elizabeth?
"Wait—what?" Sam blurts out, brows furrowing. "Why is—"
Quinn holds her hand up to shush him, and after a moment, she turns to face me. "She said you opened the window for her?"
"Well, I didn't know it was for her, technically, so, hang on," I stop short, nose scrunching in confusion. "Entities don't fly or float, do they? I mean, I live on the third floor. How could she have tapped outside the window?"
And then there's that uncanny giggle again.
Exactly like the one from the recording.
"It's a party trick," Quinn chuckles with a playful wink. "Oh, honey, why aren't you with Brittany? Did you lose her?"
Sam and I just sit and watch this one-sided conversation, and even though I've never really seen her directly interacting with entities or spirits before, I don't particularly find it weird or stuff like that. On the contrary, I find it rather fascinating. Quinn grows slightly sympathetic in her responses, and I'm itching to know why of all people, this little girl had come to me.
"Elizabeth had wanted to play, but Brittany wasn't free, so she had actually asked Elizabeth to come find you, Mike. She said you were the friendliest one of the team," she explains, a teasing grin spread across her lips.
That doesn't make much sense.
"Problem is, I can't see her."
Quinn laughs in reply. "Yeah, she might have let that bit of detail slip."
"So what do we do now?" Sam interjects, rubbing his palms together. "I mean, does she still want us to play with her?"
"We'll just call Brittany," Quinn says. "Elizabeth is not exactly a free-roaming spirit. She needs to be attached to somebody, and she's been away from Brittany for some time now, it might hurt her if she's gone for too long."
I'm sure Sam and I are wearing identical baffled expressions.
"Hurt her?" I parrot, sounding a bit like an idiot, and I kind of hate it.
"Different entities communicate differently," Quinn goes on to elaborate. "But entities such as Candice and Elizabeth needs a medium, like a person, to communicate through. Without an attachment, they sort of lose their sense of purpose; they'll forget."
"But hurting her," Sam repeats, enunciating each syllable. "Like, would she be in pain?"
"An attachment is a psychic bond. It's how I'm able to see her, but she's not attached to me, and therefore she's unable to be with me. Candice was different. She needed Brittany to guide her to me, but that doesn't mean she is fully bonded to Brittany. It's not a one-way thing. If she were fully bonded to Brittany, it would hurt them both when Candice is gone. To cut a psychic mental link isn't easy, and it takes a part of you with it."
This is wrinkling my brains.
Holy shit.
"So why is Elizabeth bonded to Brittany?" I wonder out loud.
"Because she's a scared little seven-year-old who's just lost her mom."
Monday, 11.40pm
/Sam Evans
"We need to help her," Quinn whispers almost inaudibly.
I blink, trying to register her words because we've been sitting in silence for a good ten minutes since Brittany left. "Who?"
"Elizabeth."
From the couch, Mike leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "How do we do that?"
She shakes her head and releases a frustrated huff. "She's not going to talk to any of us about anything. I think the only person who can is Brittany."
"Is it the psychic bond thing?" I ask.
"Could be, or perhaps she just doesn't feel comfortable enough to talk to me about it. Either way, we need Brittany in order to help Elizabeth."
"We've stumbled across another case, then," Mike says, stating it more as a fact than a question because it's already pretty clear what this situation is.
"I believe we have."
A/N: So! One more chapter to go, and this story will be wrapped up! I know I've set things up for a possible sequel—what with this new case with Elizabeth—and we'll definitely be able to come to a conclusion on Sam's mystery in the next update, but I haven't really planned on a continuation. Perhaps, down the road, I might get an inspiration for it, but not at the moment. When this is done, I'm focusing right back on The Housemate Agreement. This story is one of those that could go on and on, because they're paranormal investigators, and hauntings don't just stop because the story does, but I promise I won't leave an ugly cliffhanger at the end.
RJRRAA: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it! I'm glad you liked Santana and that she's always such a fun character to write! I'm also glad that you liked Brittany, and I can't tell you so much about Elizabeth because I'm just setting up the parameters of a possible new case. I don't want to delve into it, especially since I'm closing the story. I hope you've enjoyed the Fabrevans scenes in this update. It's all steamy and naughty, and I just wanted to have one last good bang in the story before it wraps up. Cheers!
Agronaut13: Hello there! Thank you so much for reading and leaving a review! I really appreciate it! I'm glad you've enjoyed the previous update, and I hope you've enjoyed this one as well, especially with that Fabrevans scene at the beginning! Cheers!
NileyOvergron: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and leaving a lovely review! I always appreciate it! Yeah, sometimes it's just good to rant about how Fabrevans had been mistreated—especially for lame reasons and excuses made by the show's writers—and then we just drown our sorrows by creating better situations for our favorite pairings through fanfiction. I suppose I'm not as bitter as I use to anymore, but it still stings, doesn't it? Thank you so much for the lovely comments, and I'm really flattered! Hope you've enjoyed this update and the Fabrevans raunchiness! Cheers!
Nicole: Hello there! How are you fairing my fellow Singaporean? Thank you so much for reading and constantly leaving reviews that never fails to make me smile! I'm glad you liked the Quinn/Brittany friendship in the previous chapter, and together with Artie, they can be like the super trio in the team :D I'm also glad that you liked the Finchel interactions, and that short stint with Santana and interrupting the Fabrevans sexy time. LOL! I love her, and I absolutely love writing her because her character just comes to naturally, it's like a reflex kind of thing. Yeah, I'm excited to lift the hiatus on THA and start writing for it full-time again! I have some ideas swimming in my head; things that I've penned down, jotted into my phone while I'm stoning in the train on the way to work, I can't wait! A very happy early Chinese New Year to you too, and to a great 2014! Cheers!
Kera: Hi there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it! I'm glad you liked the previous updates, and yeah, Santana is always so much fun to write! Your request for the Fabrevans date has been granted, dear Kera, and I hope you've enjoyed the steaminess in the men's bathroom scene. Those two are so kinky! LOL! Hope you've enjoyed this update! Cheers!
SO LAZY: Hello there! Thank you so much for reading and leaving a nice review! So NOT lazy, by the way, LOL! I really appreciate it! I'm glad you liked the scene with Santana and how she basically interrupted the Fabrevans sexy time! That was so much fun to write, and yes, I did get a bit sentimental over that and how it was back to those Unholy Trinity times. I'm really excited to start getting on board writing for The Housemate Agreement again, because I've had so many ideas swarming in that I've been jotting down on random, and I can't wait to put it together! Hope you've enjoyed this update! Cheers!
Burnthiscityxx: Hi there! Oh, how I've missed you and your stories! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it! I'm glad you liked the previous chapter, and yeah, you're spot on with that. As I'm getting ready to wrap up Sam's mystery, I'm also setting up a mystery for a possible sequel. I don't have plans for it at the moment; it's just a cycle thing being in the paranormal investigation. Hauntings will still carry on even after I've finished this story. Hope you've enjoyed this update! Cheers!
