"So like, whatever happened to your pizza delivery job?"
Sam sighs. He knew this would come up eventually; what he didn't expect was Finn of all people to ask. After their late night encounter, Finn texted him this morning asking if he wanted to play X-Box. Sam doesn't have to be at Santana's until much later so he agreed.
"I got fired right before we left for nationals. Usually I just deliver the pizzas, but one day they were short staffed in the kitchen and needed me to help. Well this one lady asked for a pepperoni pizza so I thought it would be cool to put them in the shape of a rocket. Turns out she thought it was a penis and complained."
"Relax dude, it's not so bad. Kurt probably would've eaten it."
Sam's horrified, but needs clarification so he asks, "Please tell me that you mean it's because he likes rocket ships or pepperonis, right?"
Oblivious as ever, Finn replies, "Of course. What did you think I was talking about?"
Sam doesn't answer. He's still not quite sure how he feels about Finn. Finn's the guy who took Sam under his wing only to throw him under the bus, but at the same time Finn is as dumb as bricks. He can't be trusted though. Oh well. They're only playing video games, not talking about important things like girls.
"So are you and Santana dating again?" Finn pries. He's grinning.
Crap.
"Nah man, I'm just taking her and Brittany to a party tonight."
"Both of them? You better buy 'em dinner first otherwise they won't make out in front of you."
The old Sam would've been thrilled. This new, more sensitive Sam feels like punching Finn, but leaves instead to go find his real friends.
"Go away. We're busy. Over."
"Santana please let me inside. I just completed the checklist you threw at me from your bedroom window. I washed the car, changed the oil, filled it up with gas, cleaned out the trash, I even got you a new air freshener!"
"So? Over."
"You said when I was done you'd let me in!"
"I lied. That is all. Goodbye. Get over it. Over."
"Do you want me to take you to this party or not?"
"Fine. What's the password? Over."
"Seriously? Um… okay. Molten lava?"
"Nope, strike one. Over."
"Wait! I only get three chances? Is it… Santana is the supreme ruler of the universe and I bow down before her greatness? I mean, Miss Santana, of course. And also who is as beautiful as Santana? Nobody. Come on, it's burning up out here. Just let me in."
"It's a password, not a pass-paragraph. Strike two. Over."
"Why do you have to make things so complicated?"
"Strike three- you're out. I said the password like a million times. It's over. Over."
He's about to walk away until the door opens. It's Brittany. She silently ushers him up to Santana's room and when he walks in he sees his satanic boss lying facedown on the bed in nothing but her bra and panties. Santana's head is turned so she doesn't notice his presence.
"Brit-Brit, what took you so long to get a drink of water?" she whines, "I missed you."
"I have a surprise for you," Brittany smiles and pecks Santana on the cheek.
"Yeah? It better involve… oh it's you," Santana scowls and Sam is suddenly thankful looks really can't kill. He sees now that she's wearing a bathing suit instead. That answers at least one question.
"So where's this party?" Sam inquires, "Finn didn't seem to know too much about it and he's like, the quarterback of the football team."
"Tell me something I don't know, Fish," Santana smirks, "And Finn wouldn't know about this party because it's not anywhere near Lima. Don't worry your stinky little fish head; I printed out the directions for you."
"Why would you want to go to a party with people you don't know?"
"Why would I want to go to a party with people I do know?" she counters, "I hate all the people I know except Brittany. And you're kind of growing on me. Like a fungus or something. Besides, if you get nervous just give them your Sam I Am speech. They'll think you're totally cool."
This time it's Sam's turn to scowl, "Oh haha. Very funny."
Always the peacemaker, Brittany suggests a game. Santana's idea of a fun game is finding ways to trick Sam into leaving and his favorite game is Star Wars Scene-It so they're at a crossroads. Then Santana suggests drinking games, but Brittany assures her there will be plenty of time for that later.
"Fine," Santana snaps, "We'll just play my favorite game. It's called two truths and a lie. Me and Brits can't answer for each other since we know all there is to know."
Brittany goes first and Sam figures it out without a moment's hesitation. Her lie is something about having a pink hair and her truths are about how much she loves her cats and Santana. But it's when Brittany goes to the bathroom that Santana says something that sticks with him.
"The trick is to keep people guessing. Sometimes I tell two lies and a truth or even just three lies. Or other times I make sure my truths are really outrageous and then people will believe any ordinary lie. It's not about what's right or wrong, it's how you tell people things. But Brittany always sees right through my lies. She even sees through the truth sometimes, if it's not the whole truth."
She's opening up to him, piece by piece.
These jocks are making it difficult for him to get inside.
"My name's Jake Sully," he lies, "and I'm here with those really hot girls you just let in. Just ask the blonde one. You don't know it yet, but they like to make out with each other so I'm gonna go find them."
There. Two truths and a lie. It's enough to get them off his back so he slips in the door and scans the room. There's no sign of Brittany or Santana anywhere so he wanders into the kitchen. He's a little shocked to see a girl no older than twelve peering at him from the other side of the refrigerator.
"You're a little young to be at this party, aren't you?" he asks.
"It was my stupid brother's idea," she responds, "I just came down here to get some water. I'm going back upstairs to watch a movie. What's your name?"
"Jake Sully," he answers.
"Nice try. I've seen Avatar like a million times. What's your real name?"
"It's Sam. You like Avatar? You wanna watch it?"
"You mean you'd rather watch a movie with me than hang out with kids your own age? That's creepy."
"Yeah well, I didn't want to be at this party anyway. My friends made me drive them. Plus I could never pass up an opportunity to practice my Na'vi. So what do you say? Can I join you?"
"Hmmm. I guess. But don't try anything funny. My meathead of a brother could snap you like a twig."
Three hours, two bowls of popcorn, and one epic movie later, Sam emerges from upstairs only to go into panic mode. He forgot all about keeping an eye on Brittany and Santana. He scours the room for any signs of the two. Fortunately he doesn't see any blood or any of Brittany's clothing.
"Jake!"
Oh crap. It's those jocks again.
"Dude! You weren't kidding. Those chicks totally started going at it once they had a few drinks in them."
Sam gives them a sly smirk, "Yeah I know bro. So any chance you've seen them?"
"Uh, well they started making out after the blonde one swore she was gonna strip. Then the Mexican was crying and now I think they're both in the basement."
"She's not Mexican!" Sam shouts as the boys wander off.
He makes it to the bottom of the basement stairs when he sees Santana crying in the corner, caressing a lamp.
"This girl looks just like Brittany. So blonde and pretty and smart and she… She is just so Brittany," Santana wails.
"There's no one else around, Santana," Sam gently responds.
"Fuck it then! I wants Brittany," she moans, "By the way I lied when I said my favorite game is true tooths and a lie. It's really a tie between strip poker and rock, paper, scissoring."
"Okay," he whispers, "We'll find her together."
It doesn't take long; Brittany's sitting on the couch talking to an ottoman.
"You had a good thing going, didn't you? Running an empire must be tough. Santana's like that too, she always has to be on top. Ha. Oh, you open up? You only open up for me, I know it," Brittany slurs, "I tried to take my clothes off 'cause I feel so free without 'em, but then Santana got all hot and then we kissed."
A few other people are staring, but wisely look away when they see Santana glaring at them.
"Brittany, we founded you," she murmurs in between hugs and sloppy kisses. Brittany's bashful grin and glossy eyes indicate it's time to go and Sam's relieved. It's getting late and he still has to drive back, but not before Brittany and Santana both grab a to-go cup of hunch punch despite Sam's warnings that it's a bad idea.
It turns out his intuition was right. They're entering Allen County when they get stopped at a sobriety checkpoint. Thankfully there are several cars ahead of them and Sam is begging his passengers to dump their cups while they can, but that only inspires Brittany to sing another round of My Cup and the lyrics are even dirtier than Sam remembers.
"Fuck the police!" Santana yells.
"Okay I'll do it, but only if you're there too, Tana," Brittany retorts and it sends them into a fit of giggles, "Besides Sammy, I can't finish my cup. I need you to do it for me."
"Uh, no that is the worst idea ever. Dump it out the window or on the floorboard or something. Anything. It just can't be in here, okay? I'm freaking out," he screams and just as soon as she's finished pouring her drink out, an officer taps on Sam's window. At least Brittany is on the passenger's side.
"License and registration please, young man," the officer commands.
Sam hands it over. Santana burps. More giggles.
"Have you been drinking this evening?" It's a fair question. There's no doubt the two girls in the back of the car have been.
"No sir. I was just taking my friends home," Sam replies.
"Son, this car belongs to Doctor Lopez."
"Ociffer, if I can explain," Santana slurs, "My friend Sammy here just wanted a good time and me and Brit-Brit agreed. Now we gotta find a bed or else we might all just start going at it right here. So if you just let us go we can get our threesome on."
"None of that is true, I swear. I really am just taking them home," Sam stammers.
"Relax, kid. Her dad's an old poker buddy of mine. Just make sure they get home safe. You're lucky I recognized the car though otherwise you'd be in deep shit," the officer says, "As for you, Santana, your dad will be hearing from me. At least we took your license away. Hello Brittany. It's been a while since we caught you running around naked."
"I'm getting better at hiding," Brittany laughs, "Plus I don't streak through the Allen County Courthouse parking lot during the day anymore."
"Thank goodness, sweetie. Now get home and sleep it off."
The tension in the car is thick until Brittany farts and all three grin. Then a farting contest ensues and Sam's sides are aching from laughing so hard when he finally pulls into Santana's driveway.
Sam dodged so many bullets tonight that he feels like James Bond.