an: okay. here's the untold truth I've been holding back. are you ready? okay. Sam...he has a baby.

It was a 1967 Ford F100, with its red and white paint job still perfectly intact, original factory hubcaps and vintage dealer license frame, and the door panels and steering wheel were original. The seat covers were worn, and it was a stick-shift, but he would learn.

"Are you serious?" he asked, gaping at his father, who was leaning against the beautiful piece of machine in the driveway. "I mean...are you serious?" He couldn't have wiped the smile off his face with steel wool.

"Well," said his father, a handsome man of about 43 whose dark hair was graying at the sides, "you'll have to work to pay me back your half of the money."

Sam, still grinning like it was Christmas, hugged his dad, and when he pulled away his eyes went straight back to the truck. His truck. His baby.

"What are you going to name it?" asked Marissa, coming out the front door of the house with a fudgecicle in one hand and her cell phone in the other.

"I...wasn't planning on naming it," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "It has to have a name. All good cars do. Not that this is a good car," she asserted, "but it has...personality."

Sam smiled, ignoring her jab at the new love of his life. "Can I drive it?"

Mr. Evans smiled and held out the keys.

"Shotgun!" called Marissa, as Sam grabbed the keys and went around to the driver's side.

"It smells funny," his sister said.

"Scootch over honey," their Dad said, climbing into the car as well. Sam couldn't drive the thing before he taught him about the gear shift. So he did. Sam caught on fast.

That was a couple weeks earlier. Sam had mastered the gearshift by now, and that car was his pride and joy. He'd named it Esther.

"Are you ever going to stop calling your truck by name?" Quinn asked. Sam pretended to think about it.

"Hmmmm...nope." He smiled, and gave Quinn a quick kiss. "What should I wear tonight?"

Tonight was the fabled and feared meeting of the parents. Sam's parents had met and loved Quinn, but according to legend (and what Sam heard from Finn), Quinn's parents were not so welcoming, and they already didn't appreciate the fact that Quinn had another boyfriend.

Quinn looked contemplative. She ran her fingers over his letterman jacket. "Something...nice," she said, and looked up at him. Again, he was halfway stunned to silence by her big brown eyes and those long, pretty lashes. "Like, suit-and-tie nice, or good-jeans nice?"

"Suit and tie."

Sam shrugged. "Okay." He was not okay. He was nervous as hell.

"Mom, Daddy, this is Sam," Quinn said, gesturing to the spiffed-up boy next to her. He'd put on his best dark gray suit and a light green tie that complimented his eyes. He'd even bought new dress shoes, because his old ones didn't fit him.

He swallowed hard. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Fabray," he said, extending his hand to Quinn's father. The man had a firm grip. It was all Sam could do not to wring out his hand afterward.

"Dinner's almost ready, it's right through there," said Mrs. Fabray, gesturing toward the nicest dining room Sam had ever been in. Quinn took his hand and led him through the house, and he sat down next to her. Most of the evening was spent in careful silence. No one seemed to want to break the ice.

"Have some asparagus, dear," Quinn's mother said once. Sam loved asparagus, but it had a peanut sauce drizzled over it.

"I'd love to, but I can't. I'm allergic to peanuts."

"I thought I told you that, Mom," Quinn said quietly.

"That's too bad," said Mrs. Fabray.

After dinner they sat in the living room. Mr. Fabray had a glass of brandy and Mrs. Fabray had white wine.

"Do you go to church, Sam?" she asked.

Sam cleared his throat. "No, ma'am," he said, "but it's just because we haven't found the right one." He smiled, hoping this was an adequate answer.

"Oh, well, as long as you aren't a pentecostal," she said with a laugh that didn't quite suit her.

Sam wasn't really sure what a pentecostal was. "No, ma'am," he said.

"I see you drive an old pick-up truck," said Mr. Fabray.

Sam smiled more genuinely this time. "Yes, sir. She's a '67 Ford F100. I just got her a couple weeks ago."

"Wonderful cars," Quinn's father said. "Very reliable. I hope it's done well for you."

"Yes, sir."

That was pretty much the end of conversation, until Mr. Fabray announced it was time to call it a night, and Sam drove away, not really sure whether the evening had been a success or not.

hah. I was just joshin'. yeah, sorry there are no other characters, I wanted to get a bit more of Sam's family and...yeah. I'll try to come up with some great ideas for the next update, I'm thinking of including more of the minor characters I haven't really mentioned. again, if you have any suggestions I'd be really glad to hear them. they'd be really helpful :) oh, and I think I may introduce Blair in the next chapter... :)