It was two days later, and between practices with the children, schedules with work, and their babysitters' schedules too, Sam and Santana hadn't yet been able to see each other since the last time the children had a practice. Santana found herself watching Sam just as much, if not more than her daughter, a somewhat silly smile on her face. It seemed to her that the weekend date they had planned for was entirely too far away.
Meanwhile, she failed to notice that her daughter and Stevie, in the outfield where Sam had placed them, had wandered over towards each other and were involved in an intense conversation of their own.
"Are there really monsters under the bed?" Antonia asked Stevie seriously, her dark eyes wide, and Stevie nodded emphatically, making a clawing motion towards her as though to scratch.
"Uh huh and they're gonna come and eat you up!"
"Really?!" Antonia gasped, her mouth falling open. "Have you seen them?!"
"Yes," Stevie declared, making his eyes wide as he nodded again. "They have red eyes and sharp yellow teeth and I heard they like little girls best."
"Oh no…that's what Michael and Nicky said….they said they're green though. Stevie how do you get rid of them?! I gotta kill the monster!" Antonia declared, shaking her glove at him for emphasis. "What can I do?"
"The one that I've seen has red eyes," Stevie told her, shrugging. "I didn't see none with green. I don't know how to kill them but I heard that someone threw a stinky sock at one once and the monster ran away." He hit his fist in his glove, neither child paying any attention whatsoever to where Sam was instructing another child how to swing a bat.
Antonia wasn't laughing. Eyes open wide with horror, she cupped her free hand over her mouth, bellowing from clear across the outfield to where her mother still sat on the bleachers.
"MAMI! DON'T YOU WASH MY SOCKS NO MORE! I GOTTA HAVE STINKY SOCKS!"
Bewildered, Santana cocked one eyebrow towards her daughter, embarrassed. Definitely other parents were looking at her, yet again, as though she had something to do with her daughter's occasional outbursts of nonsense. She flushed further when Sam too snickered, but when he glanced back at the outfield and she followed his gaze, she saw Stevie giggling. So that was the culprit.
"Excuse me," Sam said to the boy he had been helping, before he sighed, running a hand through his hair, and started to walk towards the outfield where the children stood.
"Stevie….what did you do this time?"
Stevie shrugged his shoulders, innocent. "Nothing. You said be nice to her so I'm being nice."
Antonia, not satisfied with this non response from her mother, abandoned her position and ran, arms pumping, across the field. Getting in front of Santana, she tugged at her anxiously.
"Mamiiiii you can't wash my socks no more. I gotta throw them!"
"Stevie, why is Toni talking about socks?" Sam asked sternly.
Stevie giggled again and looked up at his brother. "She asked me how to kill monsters under the bed, so I told her that you have to throw stinky socks at them."
Sam shook his head, sighing, and headed towards the still confused pair on the bleachers. Sighing again, he informed Santana, "Umm… Stevie told Toni that you had to throw stink socks at the monster under the bed to kill them. Sorry…"
Toni looked up, her eyes bright with animation and fear. "That's how come I gotta keep them stinky Mami. I gotta be able to throw them and scare them." She tried to climb on Santana's lap as she asked, "Can I have your stinky socks too?"
Santana's mouth twitched as she smoothed her hand over Antonia's hair. "He's teasing you, baby. There aren't any monsters."
Antonia shook her head seriously. "Are too Mami. I hear them breathing at night!"
Sam looked back towards the outfield where Stevie remained standing innocently, swaying back and forth. Beckoning for him, he waited until his brother had loped over to him, then knelt before him, looking him in the eyes.
"Stevie, remember what we talked about? You said you were going to be nicer to Toni. What happened to that promise?"
Stevie looked at Sam with innocent eyes, shrugging. "I was being nice, Sammy. There are monsters under the bed and someone threw stinky socks at them…"
Antonia jabbed a finger towards Stevie, half shouting in Santana's ear. "See Mami, he said so, he's being nice and telling me how to kill the bad monsters!"
Santana sighed, shifting Antonia so she was sitting on her lap in a way that she could look at her. "Carina, I hear you. Right now there are no monsters on this field though, and you need to go finish practicing. I promise we'll look when we get home, but there won't be monsters, because they aren't real."
Antonia shook her head, stubborn. "Are too real. I'm not gonna sleep in my room no more. I'm gonna sleep with you. I'm putting stinky socks under the beds and you gotta sleep with me. Do you think they like pee pee panties too?" Turning to look at Stevie, the apparent expert, she asked, "Do they like pee pee panties?"
"I didn't know you believe in monsters?" Sam asked Stevie skeptically. "Stevie, can you tell Toni that she doesn't have to be scared of the monster?"
Stevie frowned. "But monsters are scary…"
Sam sighed, running an exasperated hand over his face. "I know, but Toni's a big girl now and big girls shouldn't be scared all the time. Just tell her, okay?"
Stevie gave an identical sigh, shoulders slumping, before he turned back to Toni. "Sammy says you can't be scared and you can't throw pee pee panties at them. That's yucky… Just put one stinky sock under the bed and that will make them scared. Am I right, Sammy?"
Sam nodded. "That's right."
Santana rolled her eyes exaggeratedly back at Sam over Antonia's head, then looked down at her, horrified by her declaration of intending to sleep with her now. She knows her daughter very well and she would follow through, definitely.
"No, no, listen to me, Antonia. Monsters don't exist."
"Mr. Sam says they exist. Is that really right, Mr. Sam? Will they really be scared of my stinky socks? Aren't they stinky too?" Antonia looked over at Sam doubtfully.
Sam felt like he was in a pickle right at this very moment. He just agreed with Stevie that monsters do exist. He rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat loudly.
"Umm… They… Umm… I've never seen them before, but Stevie has and he's right you have to be brave. Right, Stevie?" He nudged at his brother, hoping to God that the little guy would help him out here.
"Only special people can see them," Stevie agreed, nodding. "Maybe your mommy is not special enough to see monsters. Sammy is not too."
Sam rolled his eyes, but he didn't argue.
"I am brave! I am very, super brave." Antonia sounded injured that there was even a doubt in this. "I'm just much braver if my mami sleeps with me 'cause her socks stink more than mine do."
Santana forgot the entire point of this argument at that declaration, making an affronted noise in her throat. "Excuse you, what?"
Antonia ignored her, continuing. "Am I a special people, Stevie? I didn't see no monsters yet but I hear them."
"You are special people, but special people have to be brave or the monster will hurt you," Stevie affirmed.
Antonia looked to her mother for confirmation of this. Santana didn't really want her to believe in monsters at all, but if this was the story, she'd go with it for now. Patting her head, she nodded.
"You're my special, brave girl all right. You'll be okay." Setting her back on her feet, she gave her a little push. "Time to go catch some balls now, Antonita Bonita."
"Alright, kids time to get back to practice." Sam watched them for a second and then turned to Santana after he was sure they were turning to where they needed to be. "I'm sorry about that. I don't even know that Stevie believes in monsters."
Watching Antonia scamper back to outfield, Santana smirked at Sam, rolling her eyes. "Your little one is gonna give my little one a nervous breakdown before she's five. But hey, as long as I don't have to listen to her screaming in terror tonight or wake up with her kicking my left kidney, I think we'll survive. At least long enough for that date you promised me this weekend."
"Oh, we have to make sure of that," Sam agreed, giving her a returning smile. "May the monsters stay hungry until then."
88
Texts
Santana:hey sorry so last min but i cant come on date im sorry
Santana:im sick, mami has toni even
Sam:Oh no, that's not good.
Sam:Did you want me to come over? You shouldn't be alone when you're sick.
Santana:I'm okay...I dont want you getting sick too
Sam:I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. Right now we need to be worrying about you.
Santana:im ok...
Sam:No you're not. I'm coming over.
Santana:you dont have to...
Sam:I want to, so don't argue with me.
Santana:okay...
Santana:i look like shit and the house is dirty
Sam:I'm sure you look beautiful and I'm not worried about your house.
Sam:Did you need me to get you something?
Santana:idk...cant really think
Sam: be there soon
88
This was day three of Santana being sick. She hadn't gone to the doctor yet- that was always her absolute last resort- but she had been feeling pretty terrible, enough that she didn't go to work and didn't soldier through like she usually would try. She had even sent Antonia to stay with her mother, knowing she couldn't take care of her in her current state and also not wanting her to get sick too. She thought it could be the flu, to her own disgust. That would explain how she was varying between being freezing and burning up with fever, how she was chilled and achy and sniffly, and she couldn't seem to get up to even go to the bathroom without supreme effort, let alone feed herself or go about a semi normal day. Curled up on the couch, sweat beaded on her forehead even as she shivered under her blanket, Santana lay, listless. It was a mark of how bad she felt that she would even for a second contemplate letting Sam Evans come over right now.
Sam was worried about Santana. It didn't sit well with him that she was sick. He has always been a caretaker. It might have been due to the fact that he had been taking care of Stevie ever since their parents died, but still, it felt like the trait was imbedded in him now. Stopping by at the grocery store, he picked up a few items that would come in handy. He had a slew of medication and even had time to get some chicken noodle soup at the diner across the street. By the time he got to Santana's, he had two grocery bags filled with meds and soup. After giving the door a few good knocks, he stood back and waited for Santana to open, wondering if she was even going to be able to answer the door in her state.
It was definitely a struggle for her. Santana groaned aloud, then awkwardly shoved herself up into a sitting position. It took a great deal of effort for her to fight her way out of her blankets, and then she was shaking, having difficulty standing. It took her several minutes to make her way to the door, holding onto the wall and other furniture on the way, and when she opened it for Sam her legs were visibly quivering.
"Hey," she rasped, her voice hoarse.
Sam's eyes went wide when he saw Santana. She didn't look like the Santana he knew at all. She was pale and it looked like she was having trouble standing.
"God, you shouldn't be standing," he said as he closed the door behind him. Putting the bags down, he immediately, picked her up and carried her to the sofa, making sure that she was lying down. She was warm to the touch, which worried him even more.
"You're really warm... have you taken anything for your fever yet?" he asked as he sat her down before going to get the bags that he had abandoned, and then coming back to rejoin Santana in the living room.
Santana's eyes closed as Sam picked her up, and she sank back against his chest unconsciously, burrowing into his warmth. When she was set back down, she slit her eyes open somewhat reluctantly, looking up at him as he hovered over her.
"Don't remember." She had, yesterday, but not today.
Sam shook his head at her answer and took out the medicine from the bag. Taking initiative, he went to grab her a glass of water, the task taking longer than it should have due to the fact that he was unfamiliar with where everything was. Once he had the water, he sat down next to Santana.
"I need you to sit up and take this meds. It will help to make you feel better."
Santana mumbled to herself more than to him, not wanting to move anymore. Still, she struggled up again, leaning back against the armrest of the couch and looking up at him, holding out her hand loosely for him to drop the pills into it.
Sam gave Santana the pills and picked up the glass of water. "I'll help you with the water," he commented and waited for her to swallow the pills.
She did, with some effort, take the pills and let Sam help her guide the glass to her mouth. Sighing when he took the glass away from her again, she let her head fall back, muttering, "This is beyond pathetic."
Sam helped Santana with the task and chuckled at her comment, "It's not pathetic. You're sick and sick people can't help but be weak." After putting the glass down, he looked back at her and swept her hair off her face. "You still look beautiful to me," he told her sincerely.
Santana looked at him with disbelief, making a scoffing noise in her throat that sends her into a hoarse coughing fit for a few seconds before she could answer. "I can't even move like a normal person, I haven't taken a shower in three days, I'm sweaty and nasty, and my nose probably looks like Rudolph's. You're either blind or have awful taste."
Seeing Santana coughing, Sam reached around and began rubbing her back, chuckling at her remarks. "Well, I must be blind then because I don't think I have awful taste at all. I've been told that love is blind." When he realized what he said, he immediately back peddled, "Not that we're in love or anything... It's just that when you're attracted to people, sometimes it's not about the physical." His cheeks was already red and he was mentally kicking himself for the blunder.
Sam's hand on her back felt good, soothing, and Santana hoped he wont' take it away. At his comment, she tensed up slightly, her eyes darting to his, and she searched his face with slightly bleary eyes, trying to determine just what it was he truly thinks or feels. Finally she decided to cut him and her own foggy brain some slack and not comment.
He was lucky that Santana didn't make a comment and immediately decided to change the subject, "So I bought Chicken Noodle Soup. Would you like some? You must have no eaten yet and you have to have something in your stomach if you want to get better." He stood up then, thankful for the space between them, to go get her soup.
Santana missed him to a level she considered ridiculous as soon as he was out of her sight. She wanted him to come back and sit with her, playing with her hair, rubbing her arms or legs and helping her feel better and comforted. She wanted to lay her head in his lap and fall asleep, but all of these desires were almost bewildering to her, because she would have laughed, had anyone said she would actually contemplate them even a few weeks ago.
Sam took the soup into the kitchen, pouring it into a bowl and in that time, he was able to calm down a little. It was ridiculous for him to have mentioned the L word. They had only started seeing each other. It was mostly the slip of the tongue, but still the fact that he had brought it up was what boggled his mind. He has never said those words to a woman before, this being the first and it had to happen at the most inopportune of times.
"You're an idiot," he uttered before going back to the living room and sitting down next to Santana again. "Can you sit up or did you want me to help you?"
She could sit up if she tried hard enough, and she both did and didn't want his help. She did want him to touch her, to stay close to her, but she didn't want to look weak or stupid in front of him. So Santana had difficulty answering this as her pride drove her to attempt it.
Sam didn't get an answer, or maybe she did answer and he didn't hear her, either way, it looked like she was going to have trouble sitting up, so he placed the bowl down and helped her to sit up. Then he grabbed the bowl, scooping up some of the soup and held the spoon near her mouth.
"Open up. It's time to eat."
Santana smirked at this, giving Sam a look close to affection. "You've been spending way too much time with five year olds lately. I can feed myself." Except that she couldn't, not without spilling, and she didn't totally want to either.
"Hey don't mock it. Stevie is fun to hang out with." Sam laughed and playfully rolled his eyes, "You know you can't, stop acting tough and open up. Let me take care of you." He waited for her to open her mouth with the spoon still dangling near her mouth.
Santana opened her mouth slowly, giving in. She swallowed the soup and opened her mouth again, enjoying the soothing warmth of it running down her throat. It actually tasted good to her after three days of barely eating.
Sam was happy when Santana started eating. "That's a good girl," he jested. He didn't want to say it, but the way that she was eating the soup, it looked like she hadn't eaten in days. He happily fed her more soup, hoping that she would be able to finish the whole container.
Santana wanted to roll her eyes at him and make a smart comment, but it was taking up too much energy eating to bother. She ate about two thirds of it before she couldn't eat more. Exhaling, she slipped her hand out from under the blanket and rested it on top, wanting Sam to hold her hand, if not her entirely, but not asking.
Santana didn't finish the soup, but she ate most of it which made Sam really happy. Once she was done, he placed the bowl down and at back on the sofa with her. He took her hand and began rubbing it. "Your hands are cold..." he commented, still massaging her palms.
Santana enjoyed Sam massaging her hand, liking that he did it without seeming to think twice, and even more so that he was not just trying to warm her but genuinely seemed to care if she was cold. Unconsciously her body shifted closer to his, almost overlapping.
Sam was worried that Santana was cold. She hadn't said a word about it, but the way she was moving closer, it seemed as if she wanted some warmth and so he pulled her close to him, wrapping her up in his arms before he began rubbing her arms and hands. "Better?"
Santana sighed, letting her body sink against his and take his warmth into hers. She rested her head back against his chest, nodding slightly. "Yeah..."
Sam continued to rub her arms and hands, hoping that the action would at least help to make her feel better. "I wish you had had told me that you were sick sooner. I could have stopped by sooner."
Santana murmured without words, turning her face against his chest so it was pressed directly against him. She enjoyed his gentle touch and the warmth it was giving her, sighing softly as she admitted, "I'm not used to asking for help."
Sam closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. It felt great to have Santana so close to him. He didn't normally get to do these kinds of things with women.
"You should learn to ask for it. There are somethings that you can't do on your own."
"Well it's just me and Antonia," she explained, eyes still closed. "If I don't do stuff, who will? I mean I could ask my mom but I don't like to ask anything out of her, she does enough for me."
"I get that, but you're sick. You have to get help when you're sick," he tried to reason, "Besides, the sooner you recover the faster you'll get to be independent again. Isn't that a better solution?"
"Guess so." Santana groped out again for Sam's hand, wanting to hold it in hers. She opened her eyes slowly, looking up at him. "This feels nice." Normally she wouldn't have said this, but she was so feverish she wasn't thinking as much about her words, her guard down. "You feel good..."
Sam could simply smile seeing Santana reaching for something to hold on to. He caught her wandering hand and laced their fingers together, taking a minute to look at their joined hands. It was a beautiful sight.
"You feel good too," he admitted, kissing her on the forehead. "I don't normally do this with women..."
Santana smiled automatically at the kiss, her features softening, and she nestled her head back against him, this time resting it on his shoulder. She could feel his heart beating against her and it was a comforting feeling, relaxing.
"I'm all hot though, you said..." She sniffed, clearing her throat, and closed her eyes again. "No one touches me like this...I like it..."Later, when she wasn't sick, if she remembered, she'll probably be embarrassed by her own words, but right now she just feels content.
"You are hot. You're burning up...and the other kind of hot too, but let's not go there." Sam laughed, moving a little so that they would both feel comfortable. "Well, I'm glad that I'm the only one who gets to touch you like this. It's an honor," he told her as he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.
Santana made a little noise of pleasure, nuzzling her face against him slightly. She wanted him to play with her hair, and due to the fact that she was mostly without emotional walls at the moment, she told him this flat out.
"I like when you touch my hair...I like everything about how you touch me."
If Santana wasn't sick, Sam would be turned on by what she was saying, but it felt wrong to have those feelings at this moment, so he simply did what she wanted of him, putting his fingers through her scalp and then gently massaging her scalp. "Like this?"
Santana sighed slowly, giving a faint nod. Her lips curve into a smile as she snuggled against him, lightly squeezing the hand not in her hair.
The sigh that he was hearing was answer enough, so he kept going with the motion and before long a yawn left his lips.
Santana was starting to drift off herself, her breathing getting deep and slightly raspy. Her body relaxed against him as she started to doze off.
Sam was trying hard to stay awake, but with Santana safely nestled in his arms he was slowly losing the fight. Before long, his eyes drifted close and sleep took over.