Sam isn't really too sure whether or not he can leave once he drops Santana off at Brittany's. He's not sure how long they'll be in there or what exactly they'll talk about, but he's surprised to find he actually cares. Not like in a creepy "I want to watch them get it on" kind of way, but in an honest desire for their happiness. After all, if his boss is in a good mood, he's in a good mood. Okay, maybe that's a little selfish, but he just wants to be able to pick the radio station from time to time. He's had enough Alanis Morissette for one summer. Sam doesn't have to wait too long for an answer though. A livid Santana is storming out the front door and into the car faster than he can say bolo tie.
"Well as fate would have it, I was just about to leave," he jokes in a half-hearted attempt to make her smile.
"Fate is an elegant, cold-hearted whore," she replies.
"Oh, what song did you steal that line from?" He banters back, but soon regrets opening his big fat mouth.
"Do you bathe in axe body spray? God, I need a cigar just to drown out the stench. You really are trying to play the part, aren't you Fish? You got the look and smell down pat. Speaking of cigars, didn't I tell you not to let me smoke them in here? What kind of dumbass can't even follow my simple directions? And when was the last time you cleaned the car? There's bird crap on the hood and oh my God, is that a French fry on the floorboard?"
He knows she's frustrated with the Brittany drama going on, not that she'd ever talk to him about it, so he doesn't mention he tried to stop her from smoking. At the time, she threatened to dock his pay and mumbled something about blaming it on Lord Fumblington. Tumblington? Ah, Tubbington. That's it. Sam also doesn't mention that she's the one responsible for the scattered fries. She bought them for the sole purpose of pelting him.
"You know what, Fish? Let's go burn off some steam."
It used to be when she said that they'd have sex. Now he's unsure what she means.
"Hello? The gym? You know, the only place people care that your muscles outnumber your brain cells."
Leave it to Santana to say what's on her mind. It does, however, snap Sam out of his daze and he makes his way back to Lopez's so she can change. He is only inside long enough to say hi to his sister before Santana is gliding back down the stairs looking hotter than ever. She removed all traces of sadness and anger within minutes and he wonders how she's able to compartmentalize so quickly.
The drive to the gym is silent; each lost in his or her own thoughts. Sam begins to panic when he realizes he doesn't have a membership here, but calms down when he sees the girl working behind the counter. A little flirting and he's in, which makes Santana roll her eyes so hard that Sam wonders if she can see her own brain. Which would be cool. What else is cool is that they never do this. They never do anything together. Everything is always about the destination with Santana so Sam appreciates that she let him tag along for the journey.
"Fish, your fly is down."
Sam looks, momentarily forgetting he's wearing gym shorts. The cute receptionist laughs.
"Gotcha," Santana grins.
He tries not to seem flustered and fails. He opts to start his workout on the opposite side of the otherwise deserted gym. Everything's going just fine until he notices his demonic boss hasn't moved and she's staring right at him.
"Something wrong?" he calls out.
"What I wants is some motivation. Take your shirt off before I take it off for you."
"Why? It's not like you're even attracted to me. You basically told me that every day while we were dating."
"Take the damn shirt off. As much as you love your abs, I might love them even more. Who knows? Maybe I'll take my shirt off too."
"I'm pretty sure that's against the gym rules. We could get kicked out!"
"Your. Abs. Now."
She's making her way towards him with an evil glint in her eye and he's quivering ever so slightly. The argument should end here. He should just oblige her, but instead he refuses to so she pulls a stiletto out of her Cheerios gym bag and threatens to stab him with the heel. The gym's only other patron, an older heavyweight man, wheezes as he gets the staff to break up the fight. That's when they get kicked out. Well, she gets kicked out and he has no choice but to follow. Sam apologizes to the trainer who has to drag Santana's scrawny ass into the parking lot and she kicks and screams all the way.
"We could try the Lima Fitness Center," Sam suggests.
"Nah," she shrugs, "I already got banned from that one."
"Well what are we supposed to do? We were in there fifteen minutes and LFC's the only other gym in town."
"Gee, I don't know, Sam. Perhaps my basement? You know, the one with the home gym?"
"Then why did we go- oh. I get it. You just wanted to embarrass me. Real cool, Santana. It's bad enough that I have to do everything you say, but I actually thought you wanted to do something as friends."
She has the audacity to laugh right in his face before replying, "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Consider it a hazing ritual. But if you want all the perks that come along with being my friend, you'll have to give up your job. We clear?"
"I'm not your little whipping boy, Santana."
"Oh I beg to differ. If it makes you feel any better, you just got promoted from chauffeur to personal assistant. Of course, driving me around is still one of your duties. The good news is that we'll be spending even more time together! Super, right?"
It's a stalemate. Sam knows if he gives an inch, she'll take a mile so for now things are just going to stay the same. He figures the sooner he gets Brittany and Santana on good terms, the sooner he just might make a new friend.
When he gets home that night he gives his little brother all the Axe he owns. He'll pick up some Old Spice in the morning.