It was supposed to be a surprise reunion. Not a totally happy one, maybe, because the only reason he was able to leave Fort Benning was he shot himself in the thigh like an idiot and got kicked out of the Army. Rachel would be disappointed in him—God knows he was disappointed in himself—but he still thought she'd be happy to see him.
He wasn't even halfway to Atlanta before he couldn't take it anymore, being alone in the car with no one to talk to. He played some music and that helped a little, except not really because he didn't enjoy singing along by himself, plus it reminded him of everyone he missed. He broke down and called Kurt. He could just talk to his brother for a little while without giving away the surprise, right?
Just hearing from Finn at all was a surprise—that was the first thing Kurt said. He hadn't been in touch, he reminded him, not totally gently. Then he said, "But I guess the Army must be keeping you pretty busy. Tell me what it's like!"
"You don't want to hear about that."
"Of course I do!"
"Well…" Finn could tell him everything. Or he could lie and make something up. He didn't like either of those options. "Well, I don't want to talk about that right now. I called because I miss you guys and I want to hear about New York."
Kurt pushed him a little more about wanting to hear about the Army, but it didn't take too much coaxing to get him to talk about how amazing New York was and the unbelievable loft they found, even if it wasn't in the greatest neighborhood, and Kurt's internship at Vogue with a boss who might as well be a fairy godmother from what Finn gathered. Kurt talked and talked, and, yeah, Finn had pangs of jealousy that Kurt's life was going so great while his own was in the crapper, but mostly he just liked hearing his voice.
Finally he got around to asking, "And how is Rachel?"
Kurt hesitated. "She's…good. She really loves NYADA, well, except for her dance teacher. But other than that…yeah, good."
"Uh huh. There's obviously something you don't want to tell me."
"It's just that…you should probably hear it from her. Why don't you call her, she should be done with class in twenty minutes or so."
Finn was pretty sure he knew what it was. What else could it be? And if it was what it pretty much had to be, he didn't want to hear it from Rachel. "Just tell me, Kurt. She's seeing someone?"
"Um…I don't know that it's that serious, but…"
Finn shouldn't have been surprised. In fact he wasn't, not really. "Uh huh. Well, good for her. She shouldn't be alone." His car drifted over toward the left lane and the person he almost cut off laid on the horn.
"Are you driving?"
"Yeah, just, going into town." Not a lie: he didn't say what town. "I should hang up, though. Just…is he a good guy?"
"Honestly? I don't like him that much."
Finn wondered if Kurt was just saying that because he thought it would make him feel better. It didn't. "Does he treat her good at least?"
"I think so. I've never seen him not."
"Good. Okay. Well, I really shouldn't be talking while I'm driving. Tell Rachel I said…no, never mind. I'll call her myself." Also not a lie: someday he would call Rachel. Just not today.
He was getting closer to Atlanta. He could stay on I-85 and keep driving toward New York, but that prospect held no appeal for him anymore. The junction with I-75 was coming up. He could take that instead and go back to Lima. That prospect didn't appeal to him much more.
He pulled over at the next exit to get some gas, which he didn't really need yet. Mostly he just needed a minute to decide which highway to take. He topped off the tank and went inside to use the restroom. Across the street there was a lady selling peaches from the back of a pickup; he walked over and bought five pounds. His mom could use them to make a cobbler or something. So, yeah, he had decided on Lima.
.
Sam climbed out of the station wagon. "Thanks again for the lift, ma'am."
"Thank you again for changing that tire for me."
"You guys have fun visiting your grandma," he told the five-year-old twins in the back seat.
Sam had been really surprised when a woman traveling with two kids stopped to pick up a male hitchhiker. Sure, he knew he wasn't a psycho, but how could she have known? Maybe she'd had a premonition that her tire was going to blow and she'd need someone to help her with it.
More likely he just looked nonthreatening in his vest and tie. He'd taken those off to change the tire, and he was tempted to "forget" them in the car and never look at them again, but if wearing them might help him get another ride, he decided he'd better not. He wasn't going to put them back on until he had to, though, and he folded them neatly and put them in the pocket of his guitar case. They fit so easily it made him realize he could have brought a change of clothes—or at least clean underwear and socks. Oh well, too late now.
Chattanooga wasn't as far as he would have liked to get from Hazelwood. It was the closest city; if anyone was going to be looking for him, it would be here. But this was where he had to catch I-24, and Mrs. Lewis wasn't going that way.
Hitchhiking maybe wasn't the best idea. Mrs. Lewis and her kids were lucky Sam wasn't a psycho, but he could also end up with someone dangerous. No, he should try to get money for bus fare instead, just enough for a ticket to Murfreesboro. No one would probably be looking for him there—Nashville maybe, but not Murfreesboro—and he could get a job there and save up to buy a ticket the rest of the way.
He found a park along the river. Lots of people were there walking or just hanging out. He walked over to where it looked like there was the most foot traffic, left his guitar case open on the ground, and started to play.
.
Finn was getting hungry, but he didn't want to stop again before getting out of Georgia. As soon as he crossed into Tennessee he'd look for a place to get some lunch.
Just across the Tennessee border was Chattanooga. He knew he'd make better time and save money if he waited until he was out of the city and then just found a truck stop or something. It wasn't like he was that hungry that he couldn't wait. But he kind of felt like being around people—specifically around people who didn't know him and wouldn't have any idea what a fuck-up he was. And it wasn't like he was short on time. He wasn't even short on money, really. Practically the only thing he'd bought since joining the Army—the only thing that even remotely counted as a major purchase—was this car he was driving, which he got cheap. So between what he'd saved up during his short military career and a generous graduation gift from his grandparents, he'd be fine for a while.
He found his way downtown and drove around looking for a restaurant that looked good. It was hard to tell what looked good just by driving by, though, so he pulled over. He googled "restaurants near me" but didn't even look at the results. It was a beautiful sunny day, and he'd been cooped up in the car all morning. He decided to just walk around until some place caught his eye.
He found himself walking not toward any restaurants but toward a park instead. It was just what he wanted. Sunshine. A nice breeze. A view of a river. Happy people walking past.
He stopped when he came across a guy around his own age playing guitar. He was good, this guy. And he reminded Finn somehow of Puck. He wasn't sure why. The guy was built similarly, but he didn't have similar facial features or hair coloring or anything. And in his navy dress pants and white button-up shirt he certainly wasn't dressed like Puck. It was probably just the guitar. He was playing this song that Finn recognized but couldn't put his finger on the name of; anyway, it was great. He put five bucks in the guitar case and sat on a bench to listen.
He didn't get to listen for long; some cops came over and made the guy stop. Something about no busking allowed in the city. The guy was apologetic, said he wasn't from here and didn't know. He put the couple bills from his guitar case in his pocket and replaced them with the guitar.
"That sucks," Finn said to him when the cops had walked on. "You were really good."
"Thanks. You seem to be the only one who thought so."
"How much did you make before you had to stop?"
"Counting your five bucks? Five bucks."
"No, but I saw some money already in there."
"Yeah, that was already mine. I heard that no one wants to be the first person to leave money."
"Oh. I'm sure you would have made more if they'd let you keep playing."
The guy nodded, though he didn't look convinced. "It just sucks because I really needed to make enough money for a bus ticket. Oh well, I'll think of something. Thanks again for the tip." He put the guitar case on his back like a backpack and started to walk away.
"Hey!" Finn called after him. "I can't really help with the bus ticket, but do you feel like joining me for lunch? My treat?"
.
The first thought that popped into Sam's head was that this cute guy was asking him on a date.
It was such a weird thought. Guys just didn't ask guys they've just met on dates. Not where Sam was from, anyway. A guy might try to pick up another guy for sex, but that was different.
It could be that, he guessed. If this were an older guy or an unattractive guy, maybe he'd try to make Sam feel like he owed him something for the lunch. But he didn't get that feeling. Anyway, it was just lunch in a public place. It was objectively way less risky than hitchhiking.
.
Finn was actually very hungry now; it had been well over an hour since he was just "getting hungry." And the other guy—Sam, Finn had learned his name was—said he was also really hungry, so they went into the first place they found. It was a little fancy—enough so that Finn felt underdressed in shorts and a t-shirt, but not enough that they gave him dirty looks about it or anything. It was also a little expensive compared to the places Finn usually ate, but nothing that was going to break him, though he kind of hoped Sam wasn't going to order a steak or anything.
Sam didn't order steak; he ordered shrimp and grits. Finn tried not to make a face when he heard. He had never tried grits before going to Georgia, and they hadn't grown on him. Luckily the place also shrimp without the grits, which was what he got.
Finn hadn't been planning on telling his whole life story, but somehow that was what he ended up doing. Not literally everything, of course, but about the Army and Kurt and Rachel. He also found himself, oddly enough, talking quite a bit about Puck. It was probably just because of Sam reminding him of Puck because of the guitar. Anyway, Finn surprised himself by saying, "I think I actually miss Puck more than I miss Rachel." He surprised himself even more by realizing he meant it.
.
Sam liked this guy, Finn, and not just because he bought him lunch. He felt bad for him for getting shot (by himself) and kicked out of the Army and for losing his girlfriend to some other guy. But it was nice hearing him talk about his stepbrother. It was nice hearing him talk about his high school friend. Sam wondered, actually, whether Finn and this Puck guy had been more than friends. But Finn seemed so okay with having a gay stepbrother that Sam couldn't see him hiding it if that were the case. Sam just had a tendency to assume that any guy he liked must be at least a little gay, an assumption that often turned out to be incorrect.
He would have liked to hang out with Finn longer, but he really had to figure out a way to make some money. Or maybe he should just spend his food money on the bus ticket instead, in which case he needed to find the bus station. As soon as their plates had been cleared, he thanked Finn again and said he really needed to go.
"Oh. Okay." Finn sounded disappointed. "But wait. I wanted to ask where you're going that you need a bus ticket to. I'm about to get back on the road myself, and…maybe I could give you a lift."
It was a really tempting offer. And Sam felt pretty confident by now that Finn wasn't a psycho. So in case they were going the same way, he said, "Murfreesboro?"
Finn had heard of Murfreesboro but had no idea what part of Tennessee it was in. He didn't think it was on the way to Lima, but it couldn't be that far out of his way. It wasn't like anyone was expecting him in Lima any time soon (or at all) anyway. "Yeah, sure, that's no problem," he said. "It's right on my way."
"Really? Are you sure?"
"Yeah, totally."
"It would really help me out a lot," Sam said, settling back into the booth. He admitted, "I'm pretty nervous about sticking around Chattanooga longer than I have to."
"Why? It doesn't look like a high-crime city or anything."
"No, it's not that. It's…" Sam wondered whether to just tell him. He was probably being too paranoid; it wasn't like Finn was going call the cops on him or anything. "I go to a boarding school about an hour from here. Or I did, I guess. I'm running away."
Finn actually spit out a mouthful of Coke. "What!?"
Sam wiped a little bit of Coke off his arm and said, "It's really awful."
"Look, Sam, I'm sorry. I'd like to help, but, like…I don't know if it would even be legal for me to take you with me."
"No, it would!" Sam assured him. "I'm eighteen; I'm an adult!" He pulled out his driver's license to prove it.
Finn looked at the license for a long time. "Is that…the eleventh, isn't that today?"
Yeah, it was. Today was Sam's eighteenth birthday. "Well like you said, I didn't wanna leave while I was still a minor. They could have made me go back if they'd caught me. I'd still rather they not catch me though."
"Your eighteenth birthday's a big deal!" Finn said. "It's sad that you're spending it running away."
Sam disagreed. "I've been looking forward to this for a really long time."
Finn insisted on getting him some birthday cake, even though Sam said it wasn't necessary. He hadn't expected anyone to do anything for him for his birthday. His parents had sent him a card and a gift, but Hazelwood didn't really allow anything in the way of celebrations. So it was really nice that someone wanted to buy him cake, especially someone he'd just met. He let him wave over the waitress.
When she was gone, Finn asked, "What's so terrible about your school? I mean, if you don't mind me asking."
Sam had expected the question, obviously. And he wouldn't have told just anyone—he wouldn't have told Mrs. Lewis who gave him a ride this morning, for example—but he was pretty sure Finn wouldn't freak out or even judge him. "So…you've probably heard horror stories about gay conversion camps, right? And it's not that. There's no electroshock or…you know, any other kind of actual torture. And being gay isn't even the only reason guys get sent there. But it's a…very conservative religious school. So."
"Oh. Oh fuck. And you're gay."
"I don't know, actually. I might be bi. I was interested in girls when I was still around them, or I thought I was. So it was actually really stupid of my parents to send me to an all-boys boarding school just because they caught me messing around with one guy at home. Because I actually have...had a lot more opportunities at Hazelwood."
The waitress came back, this time with a couple other servers. They all sang "Happy Birthday" before she set down his cake and he blew out the candle.
"So the extra opportunities didn't make it worthwhile?" Finn asked.
Sam wasn't sure if he was joking. "No, not at all." And then he didn't want to talk about Hazelwood anymore so he changed the subject. "You're gonna eat half of this, right? Because this is a huge slice of cake and there's no way I can finish it."
He didn't finish even his half; neither did Finn. The waitress boxed up the rest for them, and Finn said to follow him. He led Sam on kind of a random-seeming path that made Sam think he might not even know where he was going, but finally he stopped next to a green Toyota parked on the street. He didn't say he'd decided to give Sam a ride, he just said, "The trunk is kind of full; do you mind putting your guitar in the back seat?"
"No, that's perfect," Sam said gratefully. He opened the back door and was hit with the scent of peaches.
Finn stared at the guitar for several moments after Sam put it in the car. "Wait, don't you have other…stuff? Clothes or whatever?"
Sam shook his head. "It was a backpack or the guitar; I didn't think I could hitchhike across the country with both. That's before I realized a bus was a better idea than hitchhiking."
.
Finn felt weird helping a kid run away from home—or away from boarding school, he guessed. But he wasn't actually a kid; he was (technically) an adult. Finn was eighteen too and didn't especially feel like an adult, but he knew he was, legally. He had finished high school, though; that was the big difference between him and Sam—way more important than the five months older he was.
He thought of Kurt—what life would have been like for him at a place like Sam's school. McKinley was hard enough for him, and that wasn't even a place where you had to clarify that its whole purpose wasn't technically to torture kids.
He thought of himself too. True, he wasn't gay like Kurt. He wasn't even sure he was really bi. If he was, no one knew it…except Puck, obviously. There were times that if his mom or Puck's mom had walked in on them, and if his mom or Puck's mom had been like Sam's parents, maybe he and Puck could have ended up somewhere like Hazel-…, whatever that place was called. And maybe it wouldn't have been as bad if he and Puck had ended up somewhere like that together. Like, still really bad obviously, but at least it would have helped, having each other. But it didn't sound like Sam had anyone like that.
Unless…maybe he did. Maybe he had a good friend or a boyfriend even who had graduated and that was who he was going to see. Finn hoped so.
The radio station they were listening to started fading in and out. Finn wished he'd thought to buy some CDs; this car was old and couldn't play music from a phone. He turned the radio off and asked, "So you have friends in Murfreesboro?"
"No."
"Oh. You just like it then?"
"I've never been, actually. Have you? Is it nice?"
"No, I haven't either. What's there that you're going to? If it's not too nosy of me."
"It's kind of because I don't have any connection, actually. No one will look for me there. Anyway I'm only gonna stay until I've made enough money for another bus ticket. Or a bus ticket, since you're nice enough to drive me that far."
That was right, Sam had said something about something about traveling "across the country." "A bus ticket to where?"
"Far from Tennessee," Sam said.
Finn couldn't tell if he didn't want to say or if he didn't even know. "Well, if you tell me where…I mean, I'm going farther than Murfreesboro."
"Oh, I didn't even think to ask where you're going."
"I'm going…" Finn had no idea where he was going. He wasn't even really considering Lima at the moment. "I'm also going far from Tennessee."
"Yeah?"
Sam started humming to himself under his breath; Finn didn't think he was doing it intentionally. He seemed to be deep in thought, so Finn didn't talk for a while. Sam's humming got gradually louder, and Finn recognized the song. "That's what you were playing at the park, isn't it?"
"Huh? Oh, sorry, I didn't realize."
"No, it's fine. I actually meant to ask you, because I like that song but I'm drawing a blank on what it is."
Sam cleared his throat and sang a bit: "I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay, Watchin' the tide roll away…"
"Oh, yeah, Otis Redding, right? I love that song."
"Me too. I don't actually even know that many secular songs, but that one is my favorite."
They hit some road construction. Traffic was backed up, and there were weird lane changes, and Finn didn't talk during it. Sam was mostly quiet too, though he did keep humming that song from time to time. When they got out of the construction, Finn asked again where Sam was going.
"San Francisco. So, I mean, what you said earlier about going far from Tennessee…if by any chance you're going west, and if you don't mind driving me farther…I mean, that would be amazing."
West. Finn should have thought of that already. "Yeah, actually. I have a friend in LA who I'm going to see."
"Puck?"
Finn was surprised Sam remembered his name. "Yeah. So…LA is pretty close to San Francisco. I'm glad to take you most of the way there."
"That's super nice of you to offer. I really appreciate it. It's a lot to ask, though."
"You're not asking, I'm offering. Honestly I don't much enjoy driving by myself. And if you could drive some of the time that would be even better."
"Yeah, of course. Anything. Wow, I really can't thank you enough."
"Don't mention it." Finn really didn't want Sam to keep thanking him. He liked the guy, but he wasn't really doing it for him.
.
Sam really couldn't believe his good luck. He was getting the hell out of Tennessee and everything was going so much easier than he even hoped.
It was just after two. They would have noticed at school that he hadn't been in any classes today, but they wouldn't know yet that he was gone. Even when he missed dinner in a few hours, everyone would assume he had just snuck into town. They'd be discussing his punishment, but they probably wouldn't call his parents until he missed lights-out.
His parents would be so pissed.
Until people realized he was actually gone.
Then they'd be worried. He should have left a note! What if his parents thought…he had never forgiven them for sending him to Hazelwood and especially for making him stay there even after he told them how bad it was. He sort of hated them a lot of the time, in fact. But he didn't want them to think he was dead.
And what about Stevie and Stacey! They hadn't done anything! It was bad enough that he might never see them again. He really didn't want them to think he was dead. And even if they weren't going to think that, he didn't want them to think he just left without even giving them a thought. It was worse because he sort of had.
He felt the tears forming, and he turned to look out the window so Finn wouldn't see him cry. But it didn't matter; he was full-on sobbing in less than a minute and he couldn't stop.
He must have freaked Finn out because he pulled over right on the shoulder of the interstate. He tried to tell Finn he was fine and he was sorry for being a baby, but he couldn't get the words out. He just kept sobbing like an idiot while Finn kept trying to tell him it was okay.
As soon as he could speak again—though he was still crying—he tried to apologize. "Sorry…God, I'm so…I don't blame you if…if you wanna kick me out of the car."
"What? I would never kick you out on the side of the road."
"No, but I mean…" Sam took a couple deep breaths and managed to compose himself, finally. "I mean if you're having second thoughts about driving across the country with me. I wouldn't blame you."
"No, not at all. I mean, if you had any idea how often my ex-girlfriend used to cry…Not that I'm saying you're a girl!"
"Thanks." Sam didn't have anything to wipe his nose with so he just tried to sniffle everything back up.
"Are you having second thoughts about leaving? Because I could take you home. Puck's not expecting me any certain time."
"No, God no!" Going back after a failed attempt to run away would just make his life a thousand times worse. "I just thought about how my family's going to think I'm dead. My little brother and sister…"
"Oh. Yeah, that's an upsetting thought for sure. You should probably call them."
Yeah, he probably should. He didn't actually have a cell phone. Hazelwood didn't allow them and his parents never let him have one either. Finn offered his, but…Sam knew he was an adult now and he could do what he wanted and so he was probably being too paranoid, but it just worried him, the idea that his parents would be able to track him down by tracking Finn down somehow.
"Hmm…hey, if you're gonna be okay, we really shouldn't just hang out here on the shoulder."
"Sorry. Yeah, I'm fine."
Finn waited for a break in traffic and then merged back onto the highway. "I'm not sure it would be possible for them to track me down, but I get why you want to be careful. What about this? You said they might think you'd gone to Nashville, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, let's stop in Nashville. Buy a couple postcards, mail them to your brother and sister; they'll get there with Nashville postmarks. And I'll buy you a pay-as-you-go phone. I'm pretty sure those are untraceable, but even if they do trace it somehow, it'll just lead to Nashville."
It was genius, really. Sam tried to argue that it was out of the way—he had studied lots of maps over the summer and knew it was quicker to bypass Nashville than to go right into it—but it wasn't that big a detour, and he was glad Finn didn't take his protesting too seriously. He did convince Finn that he wasn't completely destitute and could buy his own phone.
He did the postcards first. He wasn't sure what to write so he kept it simple. He sent them each their own but wrote the same thing on both: "I'm going away but I'm fine. I love you and I promise you'll hear from me, but maybe not for a long time." He signed them "Love, Sammy Whammy" which was a stupid nickname they both, for some reason, found it hilarious to call him. He wasn't actually sure his parents would give them the postcards, but he hoped so. As sort of an afterthought he made one out to Mr. Stephens, the dean at Hazelwood: "I hereby quit, effective immediately. Sincerely, Sam Evans."
Calling his parents was a lot harder than writing the postcards. It took him a long time of pacing around in front of the phone store to work up the nerve. What made him finally do it was the realization that Finn had been unbelievably patient with him, but he couldn't expect him to be patient forever.
No one answered the first time he called, which he expected; his parents didn't answer calls from unknown numbers. He called back four times before his mother finally picked up with an exasperated, "Please put us on your do-not-call list."
"Mom, don't hang up, it's Sam."
"Sam? I didn't think you had earned back your phone privileges yet. Are you calling from some boy's cell?"
"No. Just listen, okay? The school is gonna call you tonight or…well, I guess you'll probably call them now. Anyway, I just wanted you to hear it from me that…This shouldn't surprise you because I've told you what a shithole that place is—"
"Sam!"
"It is a shithole and I don't care what you think about me swearing. So it shouldn't surprise you but it probably will but I've run away and I'm only calling because I don't want you to think I'm dead. I'm eighteen so you can't make me go back. Please don't look for me." He ended the call before she could say anything else, and he turned the phone completely off so he wouldn't be tempted to pick up when she would inevitably call back.
Sam took over the driving when they left Nashville, heading straight into the sun all the way across Tennessee. Finn lent him his sunglasses, and they helped some but not enough. It was such a relief when the sun finally set just before they hit Memphis.
The Memphis skyline was beautiful when it was lighting up. Sam had lived his whole life in Tennessee without ever visiting Memphis. He wanted to stop there now—almost, anyway, but not as much as he wanted to leave the whole state behind him.
They stopped at a truck stop not far into Arkansas. Finn bought snacks, but Sam wasn't hungry after that big lunch. Besides, Finn had bought too many peaches before leaving Georgia and kept urging him to eat as many as he wanted. Finn also brought some CDs, announcing that it was time for Sam to learn some more secular songs. Sam hadn't meant that "(Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay" was the only secular song he knew; it wasn't. But it was true that he had heard fewer than half of the "greatest classic rock songs ever" (at least according to the cover of one of the CDs). "Don't Stop Believin'" was one he had heard, but he didn't know it nearly as well as Finn did. Finn played it on repeat several times through, then turned the CD off altogether and started talking about this glee club he'd been in in high school with Puck. His ex-girlfriend and his brother had been in it too, but Finn didn't talk about them as much.
Finn did most of the driving through Arkansas. Sam was exhausted even though it wasn't even late. He dozed off once or twice but tried to stay up to be polite.
They pulled into a rest area in Oklahoma around midnight. Finn said he guessed they should look for somewhere to spend the night. But Sam didn't know how much hotel rooms cost and he suspected he didn't have enough, so said he could drive and let Finn sleep.
He really wanted to drive through the night, but by Oklahoma City he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He knew they were near the old Route 66. When he'd been planning how he'd get to California he kept coming across cool things to see there, and he'd thought about hitchhiking along there instead of the mostly parallel interstate. He certainly wasn't going to suggest to Finn that they take a slower route, but it did occur to him that he could pull off and sleep somewhere along the old route…which just proved how tired he was, because it was a really stupid idea and sounded a lot more dangerous than sleeping at a rest area along the interstate.
.
Finn thought the pain from his gunshot wound was waking him again. Maybe that was what woke him—at least it contributed—but he was actually sore all over from sleeping so long in the car. He didn't think when he was buying this thing that the small amount of leg room was such a big deal. Maybe if he'd planned on sleeping all night in it he would have taken that into consideration.
He looked around. He couldn't tell where they were, he just knew they were at a rest stop and Sam was asleep. Trying to be quiet so as not to wake him, he got out of the car to stretch and use the bathroom.
He wasn't quiet enough, obviously; Sam was waiting for him outside the car when he returned. Oddly, Sam apologized to him. Apparently he felt like he should have just kept driving indefinitely. Finn brushed off the apology and said he'd drive next so Sam could get some more sleep. He hadn't had more than a couple hours.
Sam asked if he'd mind waiting half an hour or so before they left again. At his boarding school, all the guys had to do calisthenics first thing in the morning, and Sam had never thought he'd miss having to do that, but he did feel like he could use it after being cramped in the car so long.
It was a good idea, and Finn joined him. He was ready to quit before Sam was, but he told him not to rush; he wanted to go back into the bathroom and wash a little and change his clothes. He couldn't find Sam when he got out, and he wasn't worried exactly, but he was confused. It wasn't that big a rest area. He did finally locate him doing chin-ups on some playground equipment. Finn had told him he wasn't in a big hurry—which he wasn't—but Sam dropped from the monkey bars as soon as he saw him. He asked if Finn would mind if he used the restroom before they left. If Sam hadn't been constantly worried that he was being a huge inconvenience, Finn might have taken it personally, the implication that maybe he was such an asshole he would mind someone going to the bathroom. Finn didn't have an extra toothbrush, but he did hand his toothpaste to Sam so he could do the thing where you brush with your finger. He lent him his razor and shaving cream too, and he thought about offering to let him use his deodorant, but that seemed a little too intimate.
He regretted not offering the deodorant pretty much as soon as they were on the road again. Sam had been working out pretty hard, and he was still wearing yesterday's clothes. He'd taken off his dress shirt before working out but left on the undershirt from yesterday. Finn knew he didn't smell great either, but he hadn't gotten as sweaty, and plus he had a clean shirt on. Well, there wasn't anything to do about it now except hope that his driving with the window down for a while wouldn't keep Sam awake.
.
Sam woke with a start, completely disoriented. He was in a car, but not his parents', and he didn't know where he was or why the car wasn't moving. He looked around and saw Finn pumping gas, and then it all came back to him. He got out to stretch.
"Hey, sorry, man," Finn said. "I was afraid stopping would wake you up. But we were almost out of gas."
"Yeah, that's a good reason to stop." He looked around. There was a kind of seedy-looking motel across the street from them on one side, an empty lot on the other. "So this is what Oklahoma looks like in the daytime."
"No, actually. Texas."
"Wow!" Sam had been in more states in the last twenty-four hours than he had in all his first eighteen years of being alive. "I'm gonna go get some snacks. Do you want anything?"
"Uh, yeah, but I'll go in myself in a minute. I kind of have to look around before I know what I'm in the mood for."
Sam was pretty sure Finn just wanted to pay for his own snacks. He wished he could insist on paying. He could insist, he guessed, when it came to the snacks, but he really couldn't when it came to the gas. He'd offered, at least, the first time they had to fill up, but Finn wouldn't hear of it. He said he would have been paying for all his own gas anyway if he'd been driving to LA alone. That was true, Sam guessed, but still it was very…yeah, it was very sweet.
He used the bathroom inside and got some peanuts and some milk. At the last minute he added a little bag of Goldfish crackers. He hadn't eaten Goldfish in years. His mother used to give them to him as a treat for being good when he was little.
While Finn was inside getting his own snacks, Sam turned his new cell phone on for the first time since hanging up on his mother yesterday. There were a bunch of missed calls from his parents' number and the school's, but no voicemail. Then again, for all he knew pay-as-you-go phones don't even have voicemail. He thought about calling his mom back, but he just turned the phone off again.
Sam took over driving again, insisting he'd had enough sleep. He hadn't, but he also didn't feel like it was likely he was going to get any more. He told Finn he should sleep, but Finn also claimed not to be tired. Instead he played the CDs he'd bought, asking Sam of each song, "Do you know this one?"
When the classic rock CD got to "Don't Stop Believin'," Finn turned it up and sang along. Sam joined in on the parts he knew, which was basically the first few lines and then the chorus. Finn asked if he could play it a second time, which of course Sam agreed to. But it was barely into the second verse when Sam saw something out the window that made him turn it off and go, "Oh my God!"
"Sorry," Finn said. "I thought you didn't mind."
"What? Oh no, it's not the song. Sorry, I didn't mean to turn it off." He turned it back on and explained, "We're coming up to a town called Adrian."
"Okay." This time it was Finn who turned the music off. "And that's a big deal because…?"
"No, it's not, I guess. It's just…there was this guy named Adrian and he was…sort of my first."
"Really? Then we should totally stop there."
"No, it's stupid. I haven't even talked to him in so long."
"Is he the guy who got you sent away to that school?"
"No. Me and Adrian didn't get caught." It was at Bible camp; Adrian was a camp counselor. Counselor-in-training, Sam added quickly, not an adult. Only two years older than Sam. Sam had spent most of the summer finding excuses to sign up for every one of the activities Adrian led. He didn't think Adrian liked him too—he hoped so, but he thought it was unlikely—until the last week of camp when they kissed. And then it was the very last night of camp when they actually…you know.
"Did you see him again?"
"No, he didn't come back the next year. I always wondered if the real counselors ever found out, or…I don't know why he didn't."
"That sucks," Finn said, putting his hand on Sam.
It was just on his elbow and it was just there for a second, but it felt nice. "It's fine. It was a long time ago."
"Well, we have to stop in Adrian the town. Obviously."
Sam laughed. "No, really. It's all right."
"I'm serious. I want some real breakfast anyway. That gas station burrito isn't really doing it for me."
So they stopped in Adrian. It had a population, according to the sign, of 166 people. "Wow, it's tiny!" Finn said.
"Unlike Adrian from camp," Sam added. And then he was regretted it, because no matter how cool Finn was being, there are some things straight guys don't want to hear about. But after a moment of stunned silence, Finn laughed and offered him a high-five.
The place they ate at was the actual midpoint between Chicago and Los Angeles along Route 66, which Sam found incredibly cool. Finn didn't really know about Route 66, and Sam had to explain. It turned out he even knew at least one secular song that Finn didn't, and he played "Route 66" on the restaurant's jukebox for him. It was a kind of kitschy place but fun, and the food was way better than gas station fare. Finn insisted on paying and even bought Sam a little souvenir keychain with the name of the town. Hopefully someday soon Sam would have some keys to put on it.
Sam said he was fine to keep driving—his turn hadn't even been very long—but Finn thought they might as well switch every time they stopped.
"Do you wanna hear about my first time?" Finn was asking him suddenly.
Sam jumped. "Huh!?"
"Oh, shit, were you sleeping? Sorry!"
"No, not at all," Sam lied. "Hear about your first time what? Oh! You mean…yeah, sure. Was it with Rachel?"
"She was the first one I did everything with. But the first one I did something with was actually…Puck."
"Really?" Sam had managed to put the thought of Finn and Puck being together out of his mind; he'd managed to convince himself that his idea that Finn might be interested in guys at all was nothing but wishful thinking on his part.
"Yeah. So…we were friends for like forever. Since grade school. And he started dating before I did. Obviously."
"Why obviously?"
"I mean, just because he's better looking than I am."
"Pfft. I doubt it."
"What?"
"No, I mean, maybe. I don't know what he looks like. But you're like…you're a good-looking guy."
"Oh." Finn looked at something in the side mirror, even though Sam was pretty sure there was no one behind them. "Thanks."
"Sorry," Sam said, hoping that hadn't been wildly inappropriate. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"No, you didn't. So…he started dating. And by dating I don't mean going out on dates necessarily but, like, doing stuff with girls. You know?"
"Sure."
"And he'd tell me about it and sometimes he'd sort of…demonstrate. Like kissing and, you know, second base. You know what second base is?"
"Boobs?" Sam said. He had never actually gotten there with a girl. He had only dated one girl before he got sent to Hazelwood, and she was a good Christian.
"Right. So, like, Puck demonstrating second base with me…that didn't count as anything because…" He gestured at his own chest.
"Sure. There's no second base for guys."
"Exactly. But then it got to a point where it really wasn't demonstrating anymore. I mean, it wasn't like with boobs where a girl had something and I had nothing. So…but we kept pretending he was just demonstrating."
"I see." Sam wasn't actually sure if that meant Puck demonstrating how girls blew him or something, but he wasn't going to ask.
"So we never actually…fucked. Can I say that in front of you? I know you're Christian and everything."
"You can say it."
"Okay, just checking. So we never fucked, but we did some hand jobs. Blowjobs, even. And then I started dating Rachel and…" Finn shrugged. "I guess it would have been cheating to keep doing stuff with Puck, but if I'm being honest, that's not really why I stopped. I stopped because…well, he stopped. He said I didn't need him to do that anymore so…so he just stopped offering."
"That sucks," Sam said. "Do you think maybe he was jealous because you were dating Rachel?"
"Huh." Finn drummed on the steering wheel for a long time before answering, "I never even thought of that."
.
Finn had never been to the desert before. It wasn't just miles of sand like he expected. He didn't see any of those giant cactuses either. It was hot, though, like he expected. It was getting hot in the car, in fact. Oh, fuck, the A/C wasn't working anymore.
They rolled the windows down and got off at the next exit, where, naturally, they couldn't find a mechanic. Why couldn't the A/C have died before they'd passed Albuquerque?
Finn pulled over to the side of the road and popped the hood. He didn't actually have any tools with him, but he knew a little about cars and thought maybe he could at least see what the problem was.
Sam got out and looked with him. He had taken off his shirt and was standing there in his form-fitting, V-neck undershirt, sweat trickling down his chest. Finn hadn't really thought anything of the sight of Sam like this in the morning—why was he noticing now? Because he'd been thinking and talking about the stuff he and Puck used to do? He had maybe liked Puck's arms and chest more than he would have admitted at the time. He liked Sam's arms and chest more than he cared to admit now. He turned his attention back to the engine and hoped he hadn't been staring.
Sam said he didn't know anything about car air conditioning but wanted to help however he could. But there was nothing to do. Finn's best guess was that it was the compressor; that wasn't something he could fix without any tools, if he was even right.
Sam said it wasn't actually that bad with the windows down, but he was just being nice; it was basically unbearable. It was more than an hour before they fond a mechanic in a town called Grants, and by then even Sam wasn't claiming not to mind the heat. Finn was right; it was the A/C compressor. The guy had the parts but wouldn't be able to start working on it until morning.
.
They found a motel with a big neon sign with some of the lights burned out. Finn thought it looked kind of sketchy, but Sam loved it. Very classic Route 66. Plus it was probably cheaper than the newer, "more modern" (and possibly "cleaner") places in town. Sam wasn't paying—he wished he could at least help—but he didn't want Finn to waste his money. They checked in and took their stuff into the room, then drove back to the mechanic's to drop the car off.
And then of course they had to walk back to the motel. It wasn't far, but it was really hot out. Sam was tempted to just carry his button-up shirt, but…yeah, he obviously didn't agree with a lot of things he'd been taught by his parents and pastor and teachers, but he also wasn't the kind of person who could just walk through town in an undershirt. And even if he had been that kind of person, he didn't want to get a sunburn. He was kind of worried about Finn in his t-shirt. But at least Finn was sweating less. Sam felt gross. He needed a shower, even if the prospect of putting his gross, sweaty clothes back on afterward was extremely unappealing.
Finn said he could borrow some basketball shorts and a t-shirt. And as if that weren't enough to prove he was pretty much the greatest guy Sam had ever met, he also said he'd spotted a washer and dryer and would wash Sam's clothes along with his own dirty ones.
Sam took his clothes off in the bathroom and threw them out to Finn from behind the closed door. He didn't let the water get too warm before climbing into the shower—he needed to cool down, literally and figuratively. Because, yes, Sam had more than just a little crush by this time. Finn was just so sweet and good-natured and helpful, not to mention cute. And he'd been in the Army; like, he was a real adult, not just technically an adult who two days ago was still in high school and would be still if he hadn't run away. Sam could kind of picture him in an Army uniform, and it wasn't like he was aware of having a thing for military uniforms before, but he thought Finn probably looked really hot in one.
He soaped himself up, trying not to think of Finn being in the shower with him, of Finn's hands on him. It was hard...and something else was hard too. He could take care of that, of course. He wanted to, definitely. But he was afraid that if he did, he would look guilty when he saw Finn again in a few minutes, and then maybe Finn would figure out what he'd been doing. Not that Finn would care about him masturbating—he wasn't Sam's pastor or anything—but if he somehow guessed what he was thinking about while masturbating…well, it would be awkward at best.
.
Finn returned to the room and immediately took out his phone to set an alarm to remind him when to move the clothes from the washer to the dryer; it didn't matter that much for him, but he didn't want to risk anyone stealing Sam's one outfit. When he looked up, Sam was standing there with his hair wet, wearing just a towel. Finn quickly looked back at his phone.
"Sorry!" Sam said, grabbing a pillow and holding it in front of his crotch. "I just…I didn't want to go through your stuff to find those clothes you said I could borrow."
"Right! My bad!" Finn started digging through his duffel bag. He threw some shorts over onto the other bed, near where Sam was standing. Should he lend him some underwear too? Which was weirder, lending a guy your underwear or letting him go commando in your shorts? It was basically the same either way, right? He grabbed a pair and threw them over too, adding, "If you want them or whatever."
Sam took them both and went back into the bathroom. "Thanks again," he shouted.
"Yeah, no problem." Finn grabbed a t-shirt and set it on the bed he'd thrown the other stuff onto. "Hey, uh…are you hungry?" He was about to suggest finding somewhere to eat but then realized they shouldn't do that until the clothes were done. His eye fell on the bag from that roadside stand back in Georgia. "Want a peach?"
"Yeah, thanks." Sam came out of the bathroom in Finn's shorts and took one from the bag. "I don't know why because I've eaten a lot of peaches in my life, but I seriously think these are the best I've ever had." He took a huge bite, and juice ran down his chin and neck.
"You're gonna need another shower," Finn said. He was trying not to stare, but Sam's second bite produced an even bigger gush of juice, so much that it reached his chest.
"Yeah, really. Good thing I didn't put your shirt on yet, it would be ruined."
"Yeah. Good thing." Before really stopping to ask himself whether it was a good idea (it wasn't!), Finn stepped closer, so he was standing right in front of Sam. That was bad enough. But then he said, "They are really good peaches." And he ran his finger through the line of juice on Sam's chest and put it in his mouth.
Sam let out a surprised huff.
"I'm sorry," Finn said. But he didn't move away, and neither did Sam.
"You could do it again. If you wanted."
There was a little bit of juice pooled above Sam's collarbone. Finn placed his hands on Sam's sides, leaned in, and licked it off. He felt more than heard the little noise Sam made in the back of his throat. It wasn't the sweet fruitiness that made him lick the trail of juice all the way up Sam's neck and onto his chin. He licked all around Sam's mouth, Sam's peach-scented breath hot on his face. Sam touched the back of his head and asked, "Are you gonna kiss me?"
Somehow Finn hadn't realized that was his intention, at least not consciously, until Sam asked. But yes, he was absolutely going to kiss him.
They kissed breathlessly, hands roaming each other's backs and chests. Sam backed up—maybe because Finn was crowding him, he wasn't sure—until he bumped into the bed and fell back on it. "Sorry," Finn said.
"Please don't stop."
Finn tore his t-shirt off and joined Sam on the bed. They lay facing each other and kissed until Finn found himself holding onto Sam's ass. He hadn't meant to get carried away like this. He hadn't meant to start at all, for that matter. He reluctantly tore his mouth and hands away.
Sam scooted away from him just a little. "I'm sorry, what did I do?"
"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"
"You promised you wouldn't stop."
Had he? Finn didn't remember promising that. But whether he'd promised or not, he didn't want to stop. He resumed his kissing, harder than before, forceful enough that Sam ended up on his back with Finn on top of him.
Sam was totally hard, Finn could feel that right through two pairs of shorts, right against his own hard-on. He propped himself up on his arms for better leverage and ground carefully against him. He hesitated just long enough to give Sam a chance to tell him to stop if he wanted to, or to roll out from under him. Sam didn't do either of those things; instead, he held Finn's hips and urged him to do it again.
.
Sam had no idea why Finn started making out with him all of a sudden. Like, was it because Sam's crush was super obvious and he was just trying to be nice? Because Sam reminded him of Puck somehow? Or maybe he was just really horny and Sam was convenient? It didn't matter, not now, not when it felt so good: Finn's lips and hands on him, Finn's dick rubbing against his. It would have been better without clothes in the way, but Sam wasn't about to interrupt what they were doing and give Finn a chance to come to his senses.
Finn started sucking this spot on his neck where Sam was extra sensitive, and Sam instinctively muffled a moan. When he realized he could make all the noise he wanted and not get in trouble for it, he let go with a long, deep groan that was almost as satisfying as coming. Okay, not really, but it did make everything Finn was doing even better than it already was.
And once he started, he couldn't shut up. Finn seemed to like it, judging by how much harder he sucked and how much faster he moved his hips.
Oh no. Oh no, it was getting to be too much, too good. He so didn't want Finn to stop, but he wanted even less for Finn to be furious and/or disgusted with him. He held himself very still and said, "Finn, hold on a minute or I'm afraid I'm gonna ruin your shorts."
Finn held still too, and a disaster was narrowly averted. He didn't actually get off him, though, so that disaster could still happen. Finn looked down at him with an expression Sam couldn't read. "Really? Did I almost make you come?"
Sam felt like he was blushing, but maybe his cheeks were just hot from the stuff they were doing. "You couldn't tell I liked it?"
"Yeah, I got that. Those noises you were making—that was really hot. I just didn't know you liked it that much."
Sam nodded.
"Well, then." Finn tugged gently at the waistband of Sam's shorts...of his own shorts that Sam was wearing. "Do you wanna take these off so you can come?"
Sam pressed his lips together and nodded again. He didn't trust himself to even open his mouth—he would just embarrass himself by begging, or maybe by declaring his love.
Finn pulled the shorts and underwear off him and threw them aside. Sam felt his hand on his dick, just lightly, and he couldn't help but buck up against it. He didn't want to ask Finn to wrap his hand around it and jerk, but…he wanted Finn to wrap his hand around it and jerk.
But Finn did something way better, something completely unexpected: he put his mouth on it. He licked it a couple times—not even tentatively—before wrapping his lips around the tip and sucking softly. Sam arched off the bed and groped around behind him for the pillow, forgetting again that he didn't have to be quiet. Then he remembered, and he said, louder than he needed to, "Finn, fuck."
Finn took his mouth off his dick, but not his hand, thank God. He said, "Can you warn me before you come? Cause I don't want…you know."
"Yeah, yeah, of course. God."
Finn went back to sucking, not so softly anymore. He had one hand on Sam's balls…pretty close to Sam's hole. Maybe he wanted to fuck him, Sam thought, and God.
Sam tried not to move his hips. He didn't want to thrust into Finn's mouth; he didn't want to do anything to make this end before it had to. In the back of his mind he knew he really should let Finn know soon that he should stop. But he was sure he had time; he was sure he could hold off just a little longer.
Until Finn's finger brushed over his hole and Sam accidentally started thrusting a little, and then it was too late. By the time he shouted, "Finn, Finn!" he was already unloading in Finn's mouth. It didn't all go in his mouth. He was still coming when Finn took his cock out of his mouth and jerked him through the rest of it. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said before he was even done. A surprising amount of cum ended up on his stomach, considering that Finn had gotten the biggest couple gushes.
"It's okay," Finn said. He didn't sound too mad.
"No, but I promised. But it was so good, and…but I should have been more careful."
"Don't worry, it's not the first time I've had jizz in my mouth. Puck wasn't always great about warning me either." Finn rubbed his thigh and added, "Maybe some day I'll learn to like the taste."
Sam opened his eyes and dared a glance down at Finn. He didn't look any madder than he sounded. Still, he didn't like the taste, and he had asked Sam not to do it, and Sam felt terrible. Hoping it would help make it up to him, he said, "I actually do like the taste, but I would let you come in my mouth even if I didn't. Unless you'd rather—"
Finn's phone went off and he went, "Shit!"
"Who is it?"
"No one, it's the alarm for the clothes." He stood up.
"Oh. Well, that can wait."
"Mmm…no, I really better go put them in the dryer." He put his t-shirt back on and gathered up the quarters that had fallen out of his shorts pocket.
"Oh. Okay. Well…I'll be here."
.
Finn rushed down to the laundry room in a state of disbelief. What the fuck was he doing with Sam?
The poor kid—he was so grateful for every minor kindness Finn had shown him, so of course he'd probably felt like he had to accept Finn's advances. Even if he hadn't felt coerced, he would want to repay him. He was this sweet, naïve kid, and Finn was this borderline abusive perv. Like, what, he just assumed that just because Sam had had sex with guys before, he would automatically want to with Finn? If some guy treated Kurt like that, Finn would want to kill him.
He moved the clothes from the washer to the dryer and started the machine. Okay, he had to go back now and apologize to Sam.
What was he even going to say?
Should he maybe wait a few minutes? Until he was less horny and therefore less likely to take advantage of Sam again?
And he suddenly remembered that he had been meaning to call Puck. It probably wasn't a great idea to just show up at his apartment unannounced and with nowhere else to stay. And wasn't this a good time to call, so Sam wouldn't overhear and figure out that Finn hadn't been planning all along to go to LA?
Puck picked up right away. "Finn, my man! Why the hell did you wait so long to call? How the hell is the Army?"
"It's uh…" Finn hopped up and sat on top of the washing machine. "It's not great."
"Dude, what happened?"
"It's kind of a long story," Finn said, although I shot myself isn't actually long at all. "Anyway, we've uh…we've decided to part ways. The Army and me, I mean."
"Dude. That sucks."
"Yeah."
"Or maybe it doesn't. Cause, you know, if you don't have anything else going on, maybe you could come out west for a little vacay."
"Are you serious? Because I don't want to sound like the world's biggest douchebag or anything, but I'm kind of already on my way."
"No way. Are you serious? And what do you mean kinda?"
"I mean I am. I left yesterday and now I'm in New Mexico."
"Whoa. It sounds like you're making amazing time. You should stop and sleep, though. I don't want you crashing and dying before you even get here."
"Oh. Yeah. I'm actually not doing all the driving. I sort of have a…friend with me."
"Yeah?" Puck sounded…Finn wasn't sure, wary or something.
"But don't worry, I wasn't gonna ask if he could crash with you too. He's not actually going to LA, he's going to San Francisco."
"Oh, cool. Hopefully whoever he's staying with up there is rich, cause I hear it's hella expensive."
"Hella?"
"They talk like that!"
Finn and Puck got to talking about other stuff—Finn told Puck about Rachel seeing someone else; Puck told Finn how it turned out he had a half-brother he never knew about—and before Finn knew it, the dryer buzzer was going off. "Fuck, I gotta go! Sam is gonna think I took off with his clothes!"
"Uh, wanky?"
"No, it's not like that," Finn said, even though it pretty much was. "I'm washing them because he only…it's a long story, I'll tell you when I see you."
.
Sam waited for Finn to get back.
And he waited some more.
And he put his clothes back on—Finn's clothes back on—because whatever was going on, it was pretty clear Finn didn't want to fuck him.
He wasn't exactly worried that Finn was just going to leave him here because…Finn's stuff was still in the room, and Finn's car was still at the mechanic's. He might be getting his own room, though. Sam worried about how he would pay for this one if that's what Finn was doing. And then he berated himself for only thinking about himself again.
He was just so disgusted with himself for fucking things up so bad that Finn couldn't even stand to be in the same room with him. And to think he actually believed it when Finn tried to act like coming in his mouth wasn't a big deal! Of course Finn would try not to make him feel bad about it—even though he absolutely should feel bad.
He was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall when Finn finally returned. He jumped up and wiped his face with his hand, hoping Finn wouldn't be able to tell he'd been crying. "Finn. I'm so sorry. You've been nothing but great to me and I had to go and repay you by…" He took a deep breath to keep his voice from quivering. "I'm so grateful and so sorry and…I mean, obviously I can get the rest of the way to San Francisco by myself. Or maybe I'll just stay here for a while, this isn't exactly where anyone would be looking for me. Anyway you don't need to worry about me and, again, I'm really sorry."
Finn dropped the clean clothes on the bed. "You're sorry? For what?"
"For what? I mean, you told me to warn you and—"
"You think I'm mad about a little accidental jizz? You think I'd wanna ditch you here over it?"
"No, of course I didn't think you'd ditch me, because you're great. But, I mean, I fucked things up and I don't blame you for not wanting to be around me anymore."
"Oh, God. No. That's why you think I was gone so long? I should have realized." He took Sam by the wrist and led him to sit on the edge of the bed with him. "No, I'm sorry you thought that. I was scared to come back because I didn't know what to say. I'm just really ashamed of myself."
"Oh." Of course it was that; Sam should have guessed. He'd sometimes felt that way himself. "I mean, it doesn't mean you're gay. Trust me, I know plenty of straight guys at school who, you know, when there aren't any girls around…"
"No, not that. I'm ashamed of forcing myself on you."
"For-…Huh?" Finn had definitely not forced himself.
"I mean not forcing, exactly. I just should have given you more of a chance to say no."
"Huh? I didn't want to say no. I thought you said you could tell I liked it."
"Yeah, that's true. But just because you enjoyed it eventually doesn't mean…I mean, you might have felt like you owed it to me or something."
"I didn't even get you off. You left before I could."
"Yeah, because I realized I was being a total asshole!"
"You weren't being an asshole at all! I thought you were making the first move because you could tell I wanted to but was too scared!"
Finn stared at him for a minute and then started to laugh. "I'm sorry, I guess it's not really funny. I just guess I should have talked to you instead of disappearing."
"Yeah, I really wish you had."
"Forgive me?"
"Yeah. Of course."
"Cool." Finn put an arm around his shoulder. "Are you hungry? Let's get something to eat besides peaches."
.
It was already light in the room when Finn woke to a call from an unknown number. He was going to ignore it and turn his ringer off until he realized it could be the mechanic, which it was. The quote the guy gave him was more than Finn wanted to spend, but he wanted even less to keep driving across the desert with no A/C so he said to go ahead.
"It should be ready around noon," he told Sam, who was sitting up in his bed. "Do you wanna go back to sleep, or…I don't know, see what there is to do in this town? That we can walk to, I mean?"
"We could. Or…just so you won't feel like you're pressuring me or whatever, I guess I should just come right out and ask if you wanna…"
"Blow you again?"
"I mean, I wouldn't say no to that. And not because I'd feel like I couldn't. But I was actually gonna ask if you wanted to fuck me."
"Oh!"
"If you don't it's fine. Obviously. And now I'm remembering that you said you've never done that with a guy so…I shouldn't have asked."
"No, I don't mind you asking." It was only a little surprising, really. He knew, at least in theory, that some guys actually liked having that done to them. Well, more than in theory really—he was pretty sure that was Kurt's preference. But like Sam just said, Finn had never done that with a guy. "Just…I'm not really sure I'm up for it. I don't mean literally not up for it…" although he wasn't. "I just mean…"
"Yeah, it's fine. You know, if you change your mind or whatever…So, yeah, let's go see the sights."
Finn would have felt up for something short of fucking, but Sam was already out of bed and putting his clothes on.
They asked at the front desk what there was to do in town. The lady working there told them about some hiking trails and a national monument and even an ice cave, and everything sounded very cool, but none of it was really close enough to walk to, do anything there, and be back in time to check out of the motel by noon. So she told them about a mining museum within walking distance and gave them the directions.
"I'm not actually that excited to go to a museum," Finn admitted when they were outside. "Unless you are."
"No, I'm good."
It was actually cold out now, and Finn didn't feel like standing around outside. The Mexican place they'd eaten at last night was good and, more importantly, close. He'd noticed they also had breakfast stuff on the menu, so he suggested they go back there and get some breakfast. Sam said he didn't need to buy him breakfast; there were still a bunch of peaches. But Finn convinced him that filling up on fruit before driving through the desert, with its limited number of places to stop, might not be a great idea.
The breakfast stuff on the menu was mostly not Mexican. Sam ordered eggs and ham—possibly only so he could make a "Sam I am" joke. The waitress, probably having heard it before, assured him totally deadpan that the eggs were not green, nor was the ham. Finn actually kind of wanted eggs and ham too but ordered eggs and bacon instead, not wanting to annoy the waitress any more.
They ate slowly, basically killing time, but without talking much. Finn didn't know what Sam was thinking about, but what he was thinking about was Sam's suggestion back in the room.
They couldn't really linger that long after they'd finished eating. It was busy—there were people waiting for tables—and the waitress pretty much shooed them out the door. It was a little warmer now, but still not warm. Finn wondered if he'd made a mistake paying to fix the A/C—if it was going to stay like this, he wouldn't need it.
"You wanna go back to the room and, I dunno, play me some more classic rock songs you like?"
"Yeah, sure. Or we could…you know, if your offer from earlier still stands?"
.
The minute they were back in the room, Sam pushed Finn against the door and kissed him—partly because he didn't want Finn to somehow think he was reluctant, but mostly because he really wanted to push him against the door and kiss him.
He tugged at Finn's t-shirt; Finn helped him by pulling it off. He kissed down Finn's neck and chest, lingering over his nipples a bit. Finn made a little noise and grabbed his hair.
Sam kissed lower and lower until he got on his knees and mouthed at Finn's half-hard dick right through his shorts. Finn pushed them and his underwear down to his thighs; Sam helped him get them all the way off, carefully avoiding touching the scar in case it still hurt.
He rolled Finn's balls in his mouth while he stroked his dick to full hardness. Finn had a tighter grip on his hair now, and it was just this side of painful. Sam guided the cock into his mouth and sucked. He would have kept sucking as long as Finn wanted, but it wasn't actually long before Finn let go of his hair and said, "Let me fuck you now." Sam got up and started unbuttoning his shirt.
"I don't have any condoms," Finn said, "but they tested me for everything when I was in the hospital and I don't have anything. So if you're okay going without…"
"Yeah, I'm good." Sam was vaguely aware you were supposed to use condoms but he never had. Obviously he couldn't get pregnant so it seemed like a pointless precaution that would only make the sex less good.
"I think Kurt always uses lube. I don't have that either."
Sam did see the point of lube, but he hadn't usually had access to any in the past and knew it wasn't actually necessary. "It's fine, spit works." He removed the rest of his clothes. "Do you want me on my hands and knees? Or how?"
"Is that the best way for me to spit on your asshole? Wait, you didn't want me to lick it, did you?"
"No, you can just spit. But, like, use your fingers a little too. Or let me use mine. Cause if you just stick it in right away, like even with the spit, it'll be too tight."
"Oh. Okay."
Sam climbed onto the middle of the bed—"his" bed, the one he'd slept in—and got on his hands and knees. Then he changed his mind, thinking it might be easier to Finn to spit on and finger him if he had his ass in the air and his head down.
He felt Finn get on the bed and situate himself between his legs. He didn't do anything at first; Sam wondered if he was having second thoughts. He was about to ask when Finn started rubbing his ass. Just his palms over the cheeks at first, but soon there was a finger between the cheeks, headed for his hole. The finger didn't go inside, it just lightly circled the outside. "It's so tiny," Finn said.
"It'll stretch," Sam promised. He spread his legs farther apart, hoping that would make him look more open.
He felt a big drop of spit land right on his hole, followed by another that was close but a little off. Finn started rubbing it in, then kept rubbing so much he probably rubbed it completely off, but it felt good and Sam didn't want to tell him to stop. He would just have to ask him to add some more soon.
Except he didn't have to ask, because Finn added some more on his own. His finger went inside, just a little at first and then deep inside, and Sam moaned loud in what he hoped Finn wouldn't mistake for pain. He must not have, because he kept going. After a minute he held the hole open and spit right inside, then twisted his finger around inside to spread it all around in there. "Is that good?"
"Mm! Uh-huh, really good!"
Finn pressed his dick up against Sam's entrance, and Sam realized that when he asked if it was good he meant was it enough. He wasn't actually sure it was, but he had just told Finn to go ahead and he wasn't about to take it back.
Finn pressed in with a quick jab, and Sam had to bite down hard on his pillow to keep quiet; he knew that any sound he made now would sound like pain because that's what it would be. Not that it hurt too bad. He'd had guys hurt him worse a few times, and he had always liked it eventually.
"You're so tight!" Finn said. "I'm only like an inch in."
"Yeah, ah! It can take a while. Especially with someone big like you."
"Rachel said I was big too, but I thought it was just because she's tiny."
Sam didn't know how he was supposed to reply to that so he didn't; he concentrated on breathing and relaxing so Finn could push in farther. Finn did push in farther, steadily and insistently. There were no more jabs, thank God, but it was still a lot to take.
Finn talked while he kept pushing in—luckily for Sam he wasn't asking questions or saying anything that seemed to need a reply. He repeated several times how tight Sam was. He said, "Oh my God, this is awesome." He said, "You're seriously my favorite person in the world right now." Finally he said, "I think that's as far as it'll go."
He was right; Sam could feel Finn's pelvis pressed all the way up against his ass. His cock felt so thick and so wide, Sam almost wondered how he'd managed to get it all the way in there. They both held very still for a minute.
Sam rocked back, experimentally, very gently. It felt good, it hardly hurt at all anymore.
Finn pulled partway out and pushed back in, not as gently. That hurt more than a little, but it felt good too, and Sam didn't want him to stop; he didn't even really want him to slow down. Finn didn't stop or slow down; he sped up. Soon he'd built up a pretty good pace.
Sam gave up on trying to be quiet. He didn't think he could be, for one thing, and he didn't think his moans would sound like pain anymore. They mostly weren't...until Finn pulled most of the way out and then slammed back in and Sam couldn't help but make a noise that sounded really close to a scream.
Finn held still. "I hurt you!"
"A little," Sam admitted. "But don't stop."
"But I don't want to keep hurting you."
"No, but please. I like your dick inside me so much."
Finn hesitated. "Would it help if I went slower?"
Sam kind of hated to concede even that, but he had to. "Yeah. Thanks."
Finn managed to turn them both onto their sides without slipping out. He stroked Sam's chest and kissed the back of his neck for a little while before he started moving in him again. When he did resume thrusting, it was much slower. But it was still deep; Sam could still feel his cock pressing against that spot way up inside. When he started making noises again, they weren't from pain at all. Finn asked him to make sure; luckily he accepted Sam's answer and didn't stop.
Finn kept kissing his neck and back. He kept stroking his chest and lightly squeezing his nipples. The he let his hand trail lower, very slowly lower, almost like he was intentionally teasing him with the prospect of eventually touching his dick. Maybe it actually was intentional, Sam had no idea, but he let out a loud gasp of relief when Finn finally did touch it.
He didn't keep teasing; he wrapped his hand around it and started jerking him slowly but not softly. He spoke low into Sam's ear: "Do you wanna come like this? Or should I come first and then—"
"Like this! Please, like this!"
Finn jerked him hard and fast. Sam's hips moved automatically, partly fucking into Finn's fist, partly impaling himself harder on Finn's cock. He knew he was about to come hard, and he just managed to ask Finn, "Please don't stop if I scream again" before he was doing just that. He screamed himself hoarse as he covered himself and Finn's hand and the motel's sheets in his cum.
Eventually he stopped, both the screaming and the thrusting. Finn hadn't stopped though. Sam was still catching his breath when Finn said, "I really wanna come in your ass, can I?"
If Sam hadn't just come, he was sure the question would have made him. "Yeah. God, yeah."
Finn mouthed at Sam's shoulder—almost but not quite biting him—as his dick swelled inside him and erupted. Warm liquid filled his cavity. Finn's dick continued to throb inside him for a minute before he pulled it out and Sam felt a line of thick cum trickling down onto his thigh.
"I, uh…Wow, I wish I hadn't waited so long to try that."
"Pretty great, right?" Sam was sore—and going to hell if his pastor and everyone else was right—but it felt totally worth it. He held Finn's arm around his chest. Not that Finn was trying yet to get up and get dressed but, like, just in case he were going to if Sam weren't holding his arm.
.
Finn didn't know why he'd waited so long, but when they were almost through Arizona he realized they were running out of time. He turned the CD of greatest Motown hits off and asked, "Who are you staying with in San Francisco?"
"Um." Sam turned and looked out the window. "I'm not sure yet."
Finn had had a feeling. It was weird that Sam hadn't mentioned any friends there. "Do you even know anyone there?" he pressed gently.
"No. But I mean, I'm a very likable guy. It's only a matter of time."
Only a matter of time before Sam was selling himself on the street, Finn was afraid. As much as he enjoyed Sam's singing and guitar playing, he didn't think Sam was going to make a living playing mostly religious songs for tips. Not if San Francisco was as "hella expensive" as Puck had said, and as he had confirmed with a little googling. "What's your plan for when you get there?"
Sam shrugged, still facing the window. "Get a job."
"Uh huh. But I mean, you're a high school dropout without—well, I don't know, maybe you have some job experience, but you don't have an address to put on a job application. You don't even have a phone with more than…how many minutes did you get on that thing?" Sam didn't say anything. Finn was sort of sorry he'd brought it up—that is, he was sorry for making Sam feel bad, but it was important. "What made you even pick San Francisco?"
Sam didn't answer. Finn was pretty sure he'd heard the question, though, and he waited. Eventually Sam said, "Well, you know. It's far from Tennessee, that's the most important thing. And no one there is gonna care that I like to take it in the ass. And plus…I just really like that song."
The last point threw Finn a little. "What song?"
"You know, the one I was singing when we met?" He sang a verse: "I left my home in Georgia, Headed for the Frisco Bay, Cause I've had nothin' to live for, Looks like nothin's gonna come my way."
"Oh right, Otis Redding." Finn hadn't really grasped that Sam didn't just like that song, it felt personally significant to him. True, he was from Tennessee and not Georgia, but close enough to the border that there wasn't much difference. "Well, I do have another idea, if you wanna hear it."
"Sure, I'm listening."
"Well, like, LA is just as far from Tennessee. And no one there cares if you like to take it in the ass. And…I guess it isn't on the Frisco Bay, but it is on the ocean. You can still watch the tides."
"Hmm." It sounded more like a seriously-considering-it hmm than a just-humoring-Finn hmm.
Finn said he needed a bathroom break and wanted to stop at the next rest area. He didn't actually have to go, he just needed to call Puck without Sam listening.
"Finn! You still think you're gonna make it tonight?"
"Yeah. Like, not till pretty late, but yeah."
"Whatever, it's not like I have a bedtime. So, listen, I was thinking tomorrow we could—"
"Hey, Puck?"
"Yeah?"
"What would you say if I told you I lied?"
Puck was quiet for an uncomfortably long time. "Lied about what?"
"Um…about not bringing a stranger to crash on your couch?"
.
Puck was not exactly cold but definitely cool to Sam at first. Sam didn't know if it was just his personality or if Finn had told him they'd had sex or if maybe he could just tell how much he liked Finn. Finn could tell how much Sam liked him; Sam was pretty sure of that. He was grateful that Finn never mentioned it or felt like he had to spell it out why nothing was going to happen between them again. Sam could tell right away that Puck had something with Finn that he would never have. He could tell just from the way they looked at each other. And if he'd somehow missed that, he would have never been able to miss the fact that Finn spent most nights in Puck's room rather than in the spare room that was supposedly his; he wouldn't have been able to not hear the two of them in Puck's room.
After a couple months Puck told Sam to stop sleeping on the couch and just take the spare bedroom. They'd gotten to know each other apart from Finn by then and become friends. Puck had given him a job working with him in his pool-cleaning business. He'd offered the job to Finn first, but Finn had taken a job in a tire shop instead.
Finn's mother and stepfather came to visit at Christmas. They brought gifts for Finn and Puck and even Sam. One night they all Skyped together with Kurt and Rachel, who Finn was talking to again. Carole and Burt and Kurt all sort of ganged up on Finn, but in a nice way, and talked him into enrolling in community college when spring semester started. Sam tried to stay out of the way during the Skype session, but Finn called him over and introduced him.
One afternoon, Burt took Sam out for coffee. He said he knew from Finn that Sam didn't really have parents he felt he could turn to, but if he needed any quasi-fatherly advice or anything, he should call him. And then, as his self-appointed quasi-father-figure, he gave Sam a sex talk. It was extremely embarrassing but also nice. He didn't tell Sam not to do it, and he explicitly told him there was nothing wrong with being gay, so already it was the exact opposite of any sex talk he'd been given before. Burt went on at some length about safe sex and why condoms weren't just for not getting someone pregnant, and he actually gave some to him and made him promise to use one every time. And then he said, "And I'm going to tell you what I told Kurt once. Don't throw yourself around like you don't matter. Because you matter." Sam choked up a little bit and nodded.
Burt changed the subject. He gently asked if Sam if he had any plans for the future and convinced him to get his GED. He asked Sam about his siblings and let him talk at length about how he missed them. He even convinced him to call and talk to them—and to his parents. "Just let them know you're all right. They're not perfect, and maybe they're never gonna come around and you'll never want them in your life again, but I guarantee they still worry about you every day. And don't tell me you 'can't' call them because then they might find you. So what if they do? You and I both know they can't make you go back there."
The weekend of Sam's first birthday in California, he and Finn and Puck drove up to San Francisco. They saw Alcatraz, they rode a cable car, they just generally acted like the tourists they were. Sam liked it there; he hoped he'd be able to spend more than a weekend there sometime. But he couldn't imagine living there by himself instead of in LA with Finn and Puck.
The last morning they were there, Sam asked them to drop him off at one of the piers by himself for a while. Not at Fisherman's Wharf with all the tacky tourist stuff that they'd already seen (though that had actually been fun, and the sea lions were really cool), but a quieter one. He knew it was cheesy, but he really wanted to actually sit, by himself, and watch the tide roll away. He did that; he wasted he didn't even know how much time there until he felt like it was enough. And then he called Finn and told him he was ready to go home.