Disclaimer: I own neither Glee nor any part thereof. No money is being made off of this story and is intended only for entertainment purposes; therefore it falls within the parameters of "Fair Use"

A/N: I need to be sleeping in preparation for a long day at work tomorrow. Instead I'm writing Samtana. I couldn't get this out of my mind until I got it out. I hope it's amusing but mostly I'm just glad it's written.

Harry, Freddie, and Dionne: A Half Drunk Medley

They were all at another Puck party. It was a week after Sectionals and New Directions' win over The Troubletones and that other group headed by that Rachel Berry-on-speed chick, whatever their names were, and for whatever reason they still seemed to be celebrating that victory… maybe that was just the excuse to throw a party. After a solid hour of dancing with her girlfriend, Santana absolutely had to sit down and recharge. Brittany had seemingly unlimited stamina when it came to dancing… and other things… but Santana didn't so she poured herself a beer and grabbed the nearest open seat on the couch. Seated next to her was a familiar blonde boy with his guitar. "What's up?" Sam said.

Santana huffed and rolled her eyes. "Don't you even fucking talk to me, Trouty. I'm still convinced that it was you and your damn Stripperobics that swung the judges votes at Sectionals, and yeah, okay, we sang our damn kubayas out but I'm still allowed to be upset that we lost. So just don't talk to me, okay, Marlon Wayans?"

Sam didn't talk. Instead he just strummed his guitar a couple times before he started to sing, "People let me tell you 'bout my best friend."

"Shut up."

"She's a warm hearted person who'll love me 'til the end."

"You're such a dumbass."

"People let me tell you 'bout my best friend."

"Tool."

"She's a one girl cuddly toy, my up, my down, my pride and joy."

"I'm serious gonna hit you."

"People let me tell you 'bout her she's so much fun."

"Like really hit you. I'm gonna ball up my fist and punch you square in the giant mouth."

"Whether we're talkin' man to man or whether we're talking son to son."

"Yeah, that doesn't even make any damn sense."

He just shrugged, "Cause she's my best friend."

"That is an unbelievably sad statement on your part."

"Yeah, she's my best friend."

"At least it's over."

"Ooh you make me live."

"Oh goddamn it!" Santana gave up sipping and chugged her beer.

"Whatever this world can give to me."

"Really, Rosario Dawson? Queen?"

"It's you you're all I see."

"Y'know, I'd shove this 'Red Solo Cup' down you fucking throat just to shut you up if I weren't scared that you'd swallow my whole arm in the process."

"Ooo you make me live now honey."

"Dear God, please stop."

"Ooo you make me live."

"Are you done now?"

"Ooh you're the best friend that I ever had."

"You're gonna sing the whole song aren't you?"

"I've been with you such a long time"

"Not so much."

"You're my sunshine and I want you to know."

"No, Sunshine was the little Vietnamese chick that Berry tried to have murdered, keep up, Alanis Morrisette."

"That my feelings are true."

"Ugh!"

"I really love you."

"Fine, Iloveyoutoonowshutthefuckup!"

"Oh you're my best friend."

Sam stopped playing, stopped singing. He looked at Santana who stared out at the dance floor at her girlfriend still furiously dancing away. Neither of them said anything. Sam stood up and left the guitar in his spot. He returned minutes later with a pair of beers and handed one to Santana. She took the beer but still didn't speak. He sat back down next to her and took a sip. Finally she spoke all of the hostility gone, "Sam," she looked at him and he looked back wordlessly, "last year, when you figured shit out… about me and Britts. Thanks for not saying anything to anybody. It kinda… it kinda meant a lot to me." He just smiled back at her and raised his eyebrows. "You may fucking speak now."

All he said was, "No problem." Santana took another drink of her beer as he sang once more. "In good times and bad times."

"Ay Dios Mio!"

"I'll be on your side forever more."

"And I will rip the strings off your guitar and choke you to death with them."

"That's what friends are for!"