Thank you for your continued interest and support. I appreciate it.
I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own The Game Plan.
Pleasant reminder: Just one more chapter and an epilogue left of this messy story.
"Tinkerbelle," Sam managed to get out before his throat burned in protest.
"Don't try to talk," Stevie said as he pressed a straw against his lips. "Take a small sip."
Blinking his eyes open and trying to force them to stay open, Sam took a small sip as he waited for his vision to clear and when it did, he couldn't help but ask,
"What the hell happened to your face?"
"Umm..." Stevie said, licking his lips nervously, then shot a quick glance over his shoulder. "Nothing much," he muttered, which earned a snort of amusement from somewhere to his right.
Groggily, Sam looked to his brother's right to find his sister, brother and a few relatives standing by his bedside, looking exhausted, relieved and somewhat amused.
Frowning, he looked back at his brother, took in his black eye and then shifted his gaze to find Landon standing in front of his bed.
He too was looking just as exhausted and was not quite meeting his gaze behind another black eye that actually looked a hell of a lot worse than Stevie's.
Deciding that he really didn't care, Sam shifted his attention back to Stevie...
"Where's Tinkerbelle?"
Stevie shifted nervously even as he shared a look with Landon... A look Sam didn't like.
"She's umm," Stevie started, then paused and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "She's umm," he cleared his throat nervously. "Taking a nap."
"A nap?" Sam asked flatly as he looked back at the others to find them all looking anywhere else but at him. "Where is she taking this nap exactly?" he asked, looking back at Stevie, who couldn't quite bite back his wince.
"She's over here," his father said, drawing his attention to the closed curtain behind Stevie.
"Open the curtain," Sam demanded, trying to sit up, but he was too exhausted and weak to do much more than glare at his brother. He could also feel some type of metal and bandages wrapped around his torso.
Stevie held up his hands...
"Before I do that, please let me explain that it's not as bad as it looks and that she's going to be fine."
Sam let his brother's words sink in before he opened his mouth and shouted,
"Move the fucking curtain!"
The pathetic whimper that followed had him reaching for his brother, ready to throw him through said curtain. But Stevie smartly realized this and moved his ass.
He grabbed the curtain, yanked it back and...
'Who the fuck are all these people?' Sam thought.
He couldn't help but wonder as he took in everyone standing around the other side of the room. The only people he recognized were his parents and Matt.
But they were all looking at him as if he'd done something wrong.
Frowning, Sam looked away from the people glaring accusingly at him to look at the...
"What the hell happened?" he demanded when he spotted Mercedes, out cold with one arm in a cast and the other one attached to the bed with a soft restraint.
A quick glance down at the foot of her bed told him that her legs were being restrained as well.
The middle aged man with dark hair sprinkled with white and looking a bit like his curvy chocolate Tinkerbelle answered him,
"It seems my daughter took exception to what happened to you."
"She beat the shit out of your brothers and male relatives," Matt clarified with a huge shit-eating grin.
"Why is she restrained?" Sam asked, wishing that he could touch her, but he could hardly keep his eyes open, never mind move.
"Drugs!" all the men in the room said as one.
He smiled, because he could only imagine what hell his little Tinkerbelle had put them all through.
"Is she going to be okay?" he asked as his eyes slowly slid shut.
"She's going to be fine," he heard someone say just as his brother asked, "Can you move your legs?"
He didn't answer.
"Sweetheart," his father's voice said next, a bit nervously. "Put the pudding down!"
"Get away from him!"
'That was Mercedes,' Sam thought, even as he registered the feel of her body crawling onto the bed next to him.
He tried to open his tired lids, but they were so heavy... Then there was a weary sigh and someone said,
"I told you she was faking."
"How were we supposed to know that?" Sam heard Stevie snapped. "It's been four hours since her last dose!"
He felt his lips pull up into another smile, understanding that his little Tinkerbelle was still drugged out.
'Well, someone else can deal with my baby. Give 'em hell Tink! I'm just too tired...'
However, he whispered a bit hoarsely,
"It takes twelve hours to get it out of her system."
Then, somehow, he managed to open his eyes, not exactly surprised to find his curvy chocolate Tinkerbelle in an oversized hospital gown, kneeling next to him on the bed, and holding up a spoonful of chocolate pudding threateningly in front of her.
"Move back!" Mercedes barked, giving the spoon in her hand a little jiggle in warning.
"Tinkerbelle," Sam said, reaching up and placing his hand on her back. He drew it down her bare skin, enjoying the feeling.
Still holding that spoonful of pudding up, she glanced back and whatever she saw had her nodding firmly and returning her attention back to the small group closing in on her.
Sam opened his mouth to tell them to back off, but again felt himself drifting off before he could get the words out.
Sometime later, between sleep and wake, Sam heard a woman say,
"She needs to be in her own bed."
And that is when he registered the feel of Mercedes curled up by his side, her small casted hand resting on his chest and her soft, light snores lulling him back into a deep sleep.
"She's fine," his father's voice said next.
"I'm sorry, but we need to move her to her own bed," the same woman said. "Hospital policy."
"And I'm overriding that policy," his father said firmly. "She stays."
With that, Sam was out like a light once more...
"You broke him!"
"Stop hitting us!"
"And we told you that it was an accident!"
"Ow!"
Sam awoke to voices yelling followed by Mercedes' cry of pain.
And it was that cry of distress that had him opening his eyes and trying to focus on the blurry figures surround him...
"Tinkerbelle?" he said hoarsely, searching desperately for her.
"She's right here," the blurry object to his left said.
He looked in that direction and blinked, then blinked again until the blurry image sharpened and he could make out Landon struggling to hold Mercedes back as she tried to lunge at Storm.
"Get the restraints!" Landon yelled, sounding a little desperate as he tried to place Mercedes back on the bed next to Sam's, but she wasn't having that.
"You broke him!" she yelled accusingly.
"It was an accident!" he retorted, but that only seemed to piss her off more. "Would someone get the goddamn restraints?"
"Tinkerbelle," Sam said weakly, trying to raise his arms, but whatever drugs they were pumping in him made it impossible.
"Sam!" she cried, sounding very relieved as she suddenly shifted her attention from beating the shit out of Landon to going to him.
"Thank God!" Landon muttered, picking her up and carefully placing her on the bed by Sam's side.
With one last glare at him, Mercedes curled into Sam, placing her injured arm across his chest once more and her head on his shoulder.
Within minutes, Sam was once again dozing off, absently wondering why they were keeping him drugged out of his mind.
"Sammy?" Sam distantly heard his father say. "Sammy? I need you to wake up now."
"Tired," he mumbled, turning his head to the side as he tried to go back to sleep, but his father wouldn't let him.
"Sam, I need you to try and move your toes," his father said. But all he wanted to do was go back to sleep.
"Go...away," he muttered, feeling like he was drowning in a haze.
"Sam, move your toes!" his father said more firmly.
He shook his head from side to side, squeezing his eyes shut, because the move threatened to make him hurl.
"Come on, son. Just wiggle your toes for me and you can go back to sleep," his father said, starting to sound desperate.
"I can't," Sam mumbled, starting to drift off when he heard the sweetest voice in the world say,
"Sam, babe, wiggle your toes."
"Tinkerbelle," he said, feeling his lips pull up into a pleased smile.
"Move your toes, baby," she said. Then he felt her soft lips brushing against his.
"Hurts," he muttered numbly, realizing that he was hurting, everywhere.
"I know, babe," she said. "But I need you to move your toes for me."
"What will I get if I do it?" he asked, still struggling to open his eyes even as he bit back a groan as immense pain shot up his spine.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"You," he simply said.
There was a sniffle before she said,
"You've got me, Sam. Now just move your toes, okay?"
He nodded even as he felt himself drifting off again. And this time when they tried to wake him, he was able to ignore them.
Stay safe!