Sam looked like he still wasn't quite sure how Santana Lopez had ended up in their kitchen, accepting a cold can of Diet Coke and eating her pizza off his family's paper plates. But it had been entirely his idea.

"What are you doing here?" Sam had asked back at Domino's, five or ten minutes earlier, as Santana stood by Artie's car with her pizza, looking equal parts busted and embarrassed.

"If either of you tells anyone–" Santana stopped short of laying out any more threats, for she noticed the kids in the backseat. "It goes without saying. Anyway, I'm gonna go eat my pizza someplace before I head back to Lima. Know any good parks?"

And that's when Sam said: "My house is three minutes from here."

So, that was how she'd wound up there. Sam had invited her to have dinner with them instead of by herself at a park before getting on the road. And, noting that she had forgotten to get herself something to drink, she surprised them further by agreeing to the idea. To Santana's great credit, she also didn't say anything about the cramped quarters that Sam's family presently called home.

And it was then Artie realized he'd always just assumed Santana was wealthy, especially ever since the rumored boob job. Maybe she wasn't though. Maybe she was used to a house like Sam's. Maybe her boobs just grew. He was thinking entirely too much about her boobs, and possibly staring at them as well, when she caught him gazing her way, her mouth full of cheese and pepperoni, and just smirked. He quickly looked back down at his own pizza.

"What brings you to Louisville, Santana?" Mrs. Evans asked, unaware of how little Santana wanted to divulge the details of her visit.

But Santana played it sweet around parents, so she spilled the deets. "I had my try-out today," she explained. "The University of Louisville has a pretty good cheerleading squad. They'll give me a full ride if I join."

At this, she sent a meaningful look at Artie and Sam, showing them that she still meant what she'd said before about keeping this under wraps.

"That's great, do you think you made it?" Sam's mother asked, as she pulled out the contents of the upper cabinets, unaware of the very intense look on Santana's face.

"Oh, of course," Santana said, smirking and tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I don't even know why they made me come down here. When you've been a member of Sue Sylvester's nationally-ranked squad for four years like I have, you're guaranteed a spot at any college if you want to cheer."

Artie had never heard Santana talk about her plans after high school. Though she sounded confident about it now, the threats she'd made earlier must have meant she wasn't as sold on her plan as she implied. Most likely, it was a back-up plan and not what she really wanted to do after high school. Artie was pretty sure that like so many of them, she wanted to be a star.

"I want to be a cheerleader," Stacey added, and Artie figured this must have been her one exception to the rule about not liking anything athletic. She was gazing at Santana with unmasked adoration as she nibbled a piece of cheese pizza. And even Santana couldn't keep from smiling back at the little cherub.

"Santana, are you sure you want to drive back tonight?" asked Sam's mother. "We've got an extra top bunk, if Sam takes the floor or the couch in the living room. But of course, you'd have to share with Artie. I have a few unopened toothbrushes..."

Artie and Santana's eyes met in that exact moment, and they were both thinking the same thing: Did Sam's mother really just suggest they share a room? Artie was pretty sure, in these moments, that people just forgot he was still a typical teenaged guy, handicap or no handicap.

"That's okay, Mrs. E," she said, smiling sweetly up at her. "That was my plan, to come here, try out, grab dinner, and head back. I'm not afraid to drive at night."

With that question out of the way, they went back to eating pizza. Santana leaned over to Artie, when Sam had gotten up to get both himself and Artie another slice. "Sorry to disappoint," she teased.

"I'd be disappointed if I were you, too," Artie snapped back. "I know you've been wanting to get up on this ever since Brittany and me broke up."

There was a pause, where she was actually too dumbfounded by the unexpected comeback to say anything. She burst out laughing as Sam returned to the table, carrying he and Artie's pizza and looking confused by what he'd just missed.

"I didn't know you had it in you to say stuff like that to me," Santana finally said, when her laughter subsided enough for her to speak. Across the table, Stevie and Stacey exchanged mystified glances and laughed, too, because that's what she was doing. Mrs. Evans briefly looked up from packing the kitchen and smiled, unaware of what was so funny.

"Mom, come on, your pizza's getting cold," Sam chastised her, as his mother gave a nod and climbed down off the countertop she'd been standing on.

As they all continued to munch on pizza, Sam's father arrived home, carrying the usual leftover dinner rolls and cinnamon-sugar butter for breakfast the next day. His eyes landed on Santana and he asked, "Are you the owner of the car with the flat tire?"

"WHAT?" Santana jumped up in an instant, followed quickly by Sam as they both ran outside to confirm what Sam's dad had just said. Artie, Mrs. Evans, and the kids followed them out to the porch to watch it all go down.

"Ugh!" Santana threw her arms in the air. Sure enough, the rear tire on the driver's size was almost completely deflated.

"I'm sure you drove over a nail or something," Mr. Evans was saying. "I can put your spare on but you shouldn't drive far on that."

"I'm trying to go back to Lima tonight," Santana said, weakly.

"Well, it doesn't look like there's a way to do that," he told her, as she cringed. "Why don't you stay the night here? I know a guy with a local tire shop and they open at 8 tomorrow."

"Ugh." Santana looked like she was still trying to process her situation. After recovering from the shock, she finally just nodded and thanked Sam's dad for his help.

What had started out as a joke to Santana and Artie was now a reality. She had no choice but to borrow an unopened new toothbrush from Mrs. Evans and take up the top bunk in Stacey and Stevie's room. As she trudged back up the porch, she looked his way and he avoided eye contact. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smirk.

"Let's make the best of the evening," Sam's mother suggested. "I've done all the packing I care to do tonight. Time for dessert and family game night. We haven't packed the game closet just yet."

Artie didn't know who was more upset about this situation. Santana, who didn't even want anyone to know she was in Kentucky. Sam, who had to subject his family to her visit. Or Artie, who was now sharing a room with the girl who had made his sophomore year a total nightmare. They were generally cool with each other now that Brittany and Artie were a thing of the past, but sharing a bedroom was crossing a line.

And now they were all three pretending to be unbothered as they dove into brownies and ice-cream and a game of Clue, which Artie hadn't played since he was a kid. And he'd always kind of loved Clue, so it actually did cheer him up. Especially when he figured out that it was Colonel Mustard with the revolver in the billiard room before Santana did.

When it was bedtime, Artie waited for every single person who needed to use the bathroom – five now, including himself – to go in and out first. When it seemed that they were finally all done, he wheeled his chair through the tight doorway that was barely wide enough to allow him to pass through. He had to shower, use the restroom, and change clothes, with everything taking him twice as long as it did a normal person. That's why he was horrified to find her right outside the door, waiting with her toothbrush in hand.

"What took you so long?" Santana's question came with a smirk, like maybe she'd intentionally done this to make him uncomfortable.

"Uh, everything," Artie said, and since she was blocking his path, he had to wait for her to dance her way around his chair, deliberately putting her butt right in his face as she went. He proceeded to look at the ceiling and hold his breath as she passed by. With one last smirk in his direction, she disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

He went about finishing his evening routine for the night by moving from his chair to the bed, rolling onto his side, and tucking the extra pillow from the top bunk in between his knees.

"Why'd you take my extra pillow?" Santana asked, with a frown as she entered the small bedroom and noticed only one thin pillow remained on the top bunk.

"Because I could get pressure sores between my knees if my legs accidentally rest on each other at night, okay?" Artie let the slightest irritation show as he said this, something he hadn't meant to do, but she was set on provoking him. "Any more questions?"

"Think I'm good for now," she said, seeming not at all phased by the tone he'd taken with her but saying nothing more about the pillow. She climbed up to the top bunk as the bed shook and squeaked noisily. "Not what you had in mind when you pictured me on top of you, eh?"

Artie exhaled loudly, not even trying to pretend she wasn't getting to him. "Would you stop?" he finally pleaded. "I don't like this either, but it's just one night. You should be thankful the Evanses are helping you out, and you should be grateful you didn't break down on the highway."

"Okay, okay, geez." It seemed like Santana was finally going to relent. She peered over the bottom of her bed as he glared back up at her, willing her to leave him alone. He realized neither of them had turned off the light.

"The light," he pointed out.

"I'm already up here," she said.

He realized this was going to be similar to last summer when she'd wanted a Diet Coke and had expected him to drag himself out of the pool and get it for her. Without showing any signs of his annoyance, he threw off his covers, removed the pillow between his knees, and began the process of sliding over to his chair. But before he could get much further than that, she hopped down, without explanation, and went to turn off the light.

"Thanks," he said, as he replaced his pillow and became self-conscious again, over the fact that she watched him do this before climbing up into the bed.

"For the record, I don't hate you," she said, leaning over the side of the bed again to look at him, as he pulled the blanket over his nose so that only his wide-eyed expression and raised eyebrows showed. He'd taken his glasses off awhile ago, so she was a bit blurry right now, especially in the dark.

"How reassuring," he said, sarcastically. This actually made her laugh.

"You're funny," she told him. "I almost see what it was Britt saw in you." As his brows raised even higher, she added the caveat: "Almost."

"And I'm almost convinced you aren't as mean as you want everyone to think you are," was his fast retort. "Almost."

Santana chuckled and settled back onto her bunk, her head disappearing from his view. Imagining her up there was weird and making it somewhat hard to fall asleep. But, since they had another early morning of getting the kids off to school ahead of them, he tried to close his eyes and force sleep to come.

He didn't know if he'd been sleeping for very long at all, but his peaceful slumber was suddenly interrupted by the presence of something heavy on top of him. He tried to speak, but before he could do so, she leaned over and kissed him deeply. Moments earlier, she'd been saying she almost saw what Britt saw in him. Now, it seemed, she'd crawled off her bunk and come down to find out for herself. As he made a noise of protest, she raised her head slightly and he could just make out her bemused smirk in the dark.

"What? Don't tell me you haven't been thinking about this, too," she admonished him, as he raised up slightly to take in the sight of her hips straddling his. "I saw you ogling me at dinner, Artie. I know what you're thinking when I catch you staring at me. And, since I'm graduating soon, well, might as well find out while we still can."

"Wh-what?" Artie was vaguely reminded of Brittany picking him up and carrying him to her bed. This whole scene was disturbingly familiar, and now the two blended into one. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Why not?" Artie couldn't believe that she and Brittany both treated sex with so little reverence. As the guy, wasn't that supposed to be his mentality, not hers? "I've always been curious about how all this works."

"That's... not a good enough reason to have sex with me," Artie started to protest, but she shushed him then.

"So, tell me, do you have a good reason not to have sex with me?" she challenged him right back.

"Uh..."

"For our duet," said Santana, as she closed the space between their lips. "We're going to do it..."

Artie sat straight up in bed, panting heavily as he realized that Santana was still above him – not directly on top of him, like in the dream, but snoring lightly in the bunk over his head. He sat still for a moment, to make absolutely sure she was asleep before getting up himself. The light was starting to come in through the windows. Once he got a hold of his glasses and replaced them on his nose, Artie got a look at the alarm clock and realized it was a little shy of 6:00 AM. That was still too early to get up under normal circumstances, but given that his body had reacted like this too-real dream had actually been happening, he was going to need to start this day with a cold shower.

He couldn't believe his subconscious had gone there. He got himself out of bed, in his chair, and out the door as quietly as he could (even biting his tongue when he scraped his knuckles in his drowsy state), hoping Santana was a heavy sleeper. He wasn't ready to face her in real life, after the dream-to-end-all-dreams. He couldn't quite bring himself to think of it as a nightmare, but that's what an actual affair with Santana Lopez would've amounted to in the end.

Though it was an amazing dream...

Stop it.

Artie's shower chair was still in place, since he'd been the last one to take a shower. He turned up the cold water, trying to cool himself down, just thankful he'd woken up before his dream has taken him too far down that path. When he finished up, he found someone else waiting on him. This time it was Sam, who was a much lighter sleeper than Santana, it seemed.

"I heard you get up," he explained. "Figured if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. How was your night?"

Artie knew Sam didn't knew about the dream, but he was still embarrassed when Sam asked. "Fine," he said, ducking his head. "I, uh, got up earlier so we'd have time for coffee this morning."

"Oh, we've got plenty of time, the sun's barely up," Sam said, as Artie shrank under his scrutiny. "You okay? Sorry about the whole Santana thing, I guess that was a little awkward, huh?"

You have no idea, Artie thought, but all he did was shrug and assure Sam that it was "fine." At least the other guy didn't realize he'd taken two showers.

Sam made the coffee while Artie moved to the couch the other had been sleeping on, always making the most of other sitting surfaces while he had the chance, before it was time to spend the better part of the day in his chair. Sam, who knew exactly how Artie liked his coffee by now, brought them each a mug and took a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

"You're right," he said. "Coffee does taste better when you're not in a hurry. We've got a few minutes before we have to get the kids up for school."

Artie couldn't stand it. "I-had-a-dream-about-Santana!" he blurted out.

Sam spit the mouthful of coffee he'd just swallowed back into his cup. He stared at Artie and blinked a few times. "Like... that kind of dream?"

"Like that kind of dream."

Sam knew exactly what he meant, he didn't have to spell it out.

"That's unsettling," Sam said, as Artie shifted in his seat. "Well, uh, Artie, it happens... I don't think I have to tell you that. You're older than I am."

They finished their coffee in silence. Then it was time to get the kids up, which Sam handled. His mother was up, too, by the time the kids were ready to leave. Sam single-handedly made sure the kids were dressed and packed. Plus, he even fixed Stacey's hair in a French braid at her request that morning. He had impressive dad skills, for a guy who was not even seventeen. His mother took note of all he had done and kissed his cheek on the way out. Santana was still not up yet.

By the time Artie and Sam had finished dropping off the kids, though, Santana had dropped off her car. According to a text from Sam's dad, it was their responsibility to pick Santana up from the tire shop.

"Wanna go to Denny's?" Sam suggested, as she got in.

"Your treat?" Santana verified, as though he actually owed her anything.

Artie, annoyed by this and mostly annoyed at himself for having a dream about her, chimed in then. "I'll treat," he said, for he had enough.

Denny's was nearby, just like everything in this simple town that still managed to have all you needed. They got a table for three and ordered their food. Santana, surprising, ordered pancakes, scrambled eggs, and regular bacon, not a puny meal of egg whites and turkey bacon.

"Finally," she said, voicing what they were both thinking. "My try-out is over, which means I can forget about being skinny and eat real food."

"About that," Sam began. "Seriously, why would it be such a bad thing if someone knew you came here to try out for the U of Louisville –" As Santana brandished the butter knife and pointed it at him, he held up his hands in surrender. "– I'm not planning to say anything and neither will Artie. But I want to know why you think that isn't good enough for you?"

"Because it's not good enough for me," she said, flatly. "I know I'm a star. This is just the only thing I know to do, for the time being, while I wait on Britt." And Santana, in a rare moment of transparency, lowered the knife. "She means everything to me."

And she caught Artie's eye as she said this, as Artie gave her an understanding nod. "So, just tell people that?" And Santana shook her head vehemently at this suggestion. "Oh, right, because you don't want people to know..."

"People already know," Santana said, flatly. "I just don't want to answer any of their stupid questions. I'm ready to start over in a new place. Nobody there has to know about Britt, but I'll still be close enough to make the drive for a visit on the weekend."

Santana had clearly given this a lot of thought, being that graduation was nearly here. Neither of the guys knew what this was like yet, as there was another year before it was time for them to fly the coop. Hearing Santana talk so seriously about her future reminded Artie that it wasn't far away now. And the same went for Quinn. And if she didn't hurry up and recover, she might go to Yale in a wheelchair.

Or then again, she might dance by Nationals.

Coincidentally, a second after Quinn came to mind, he received a text from her. I'm back on for physio today, it said. MRI was good, no major setbacks.

Good, he wrote back, adding several smiling emojis for good measure.