I finally updated! Wee! Okay, to be honest, I started this chapter February 10! Yes, I started right after I finished the last chapter. Not kidding.
Anyways, I am super sorry that it took so long! I felt like quitting this after Quinn went back with Finn. :|
I was hoping Quinn would fight for Sam or something but nope, we get nothing.
I guess that's why Sam/Quinn fics are so awesome. All the fics inspired me to continue writing and yes, there are a lot of good ones! (Please update!)
So, I have exams tomorrow and the day after but good news, its gonna be summer break after...and I already started the next chapter.
And there's gonna be some interaction. I think I'm dragging the story a little.
Review please :)
PS, for those who read my one-shot collection, I did take note of what story you guys chose and I already have it plotted out :) Well, most of it.

...

Winning the duets competitions in glee made Sam feel comfortable in the club. At first, he was scared of the thought that singing a duet with Kurt would ultimately lead to vicious slushies – courtesy of Karofsky and Azimio. Luckily, glee usually went on after classes and most of the students were home or at practice for extra-curricular activities.

After a small chat he had with Kurt about giving him both the tickets to take Quinn out for an apology date, Sam headed out to his car. As he drove on home to the Fabray house, all he could think about was how frightfully amazing it was to express himself through song, a thing he only did in private, and have people praise him for it. Maybe glee isn't as lame as people think it is. Running down the list of glee club members, half of it was practically cheerleaders and football players.

His Jeep found its home in the garage of the Fabray house and the first thing Sam noticed was that this afternoon, it wasn't empty. After Sam tried to plant a kiss on Quinn and accidentally spilling that he knew about the baby, the garage would often be empty with Judy always out for church group meetings or long days at work and Quinn not returning home till late in the evening. This afternoon, though, her small, red car was parked, meaning that she was in.

He wasn't sure how long she was going to stay mad at him. He wasn't sure how he was going to apologize either. He figured that it was easiest if he just lay low and not piss her off, wait for the right moment and see what happens from there. He enters the house and hears the low buzz the living room TV. There she is sitting on the couch with her legs propped up on the table. She was out of her Cheerios uniform and in a baggy shirt and shorts. Her eyes were fixated on the TV as she dipped her hands in the bowl of popcorn resting on her lap.

"Hey," he regretted it the second the simple word escaped his lips. She looked up, away from the TV but said nothing. "What's on TV?" he asked as if the past week just never happened. He wasn't really expecting a reply but surprisingly, her small voice spoke up.

"American Idol."

Sam nodded, not knowing how to respond. Her voice wasn't really inviting nor was it implying that she didn't want him there. But then, the next thing she did surprised him even more. She scooted over to the edge of the sofa – she already was at the edge of the chair so moving down further seemed like an invitation to join her. "It just started."

Confused, Sam dropped his bag at the foot of the sofa and sat beside her. She was right, the show had just started and Ryan Seacrest was doing his usual spiel, hyping up the crowd. They were both silent but it was not awkward. Quinn held the popcorn bowl by the rim and held out her arm, offering some to Sam. He gladly took a handful.

"Casey has got my vote," Sam said in between popping popcorn in his mouth.

Quinn kept her eyes glued to the TV. "Mine too."

And for a moment, a very quick moment, Sam felt like they were an old, married couple, enjoying a television show together. No need for words, no need to be intimate. Everything felt just right like a piece fitting right into the puzzle. Heaving out a content sigh, Sam was deep in his happy thoughts when the phone rang. Quinn picked up the phone and answered.

"Hello," she spoke into the phone, "Mom?"

She stays quiet for a while. Sam reaches over for the remote control to turn the volume down. He notices something is wrong when her eyebrows knit together in worry.

"Will you be okay there?" she asks. She nods every now and then. "Okay, mom. I'll see you soon."

As soon as Quinn hangs up the phone, Sam took no second longer to ask, "What happened to your mom?"

"She's staying late at the office tonight. She said she might stay there all night," Quinn turned the volume up, just in time to catch the next performer on stage. After a couple more performances, she stood up abruptly and headed towards the kitchen. "Want anything for dinner?" she called out.

"I'll take whatever you give me."

Quinn scouts the refrigerator for anything she could cook. Seeing the fridge was near empty, she heads towards the cupboards, only to find even more emptiness. "Mom hasn't gone to the groceries yet," she reenters the living room. You wanna order delivery or something?"

Sam thinks for a moment and remembers the certificates he won from the duets competition. He rummages through his backpack and pull out the envelope Kurt gave him. "We could use these," he holds them up.

"Okay…"

...

After tonight's episode of American Idol, Quinn ran up to her room to get a jacket and hastily threw it around her shoulders. "We can take my car…or, you know, we could just meet at BreadstiX," Sam offered when they were in the garage. Quinn headed towards the other side of the car without looking back at him. "We can take your car," she hopped in the passenger seat.

After being ushered into a booth by a waitress, the two wasted no time in small talk and went straight to ordering food. It was getting late and both were hungry. The waitress diligently took their orders and the menus away. Here in the booth, with no TV to use as an excuse to not talk to each other, Sam began to feel the awkward atmosphere between them. He fiddled with the end of the tablecloth, pulling on a loose thread while Quinn kept playing with the zipper on her jacket.

Up and down, up and down, up and down…The scratchy noise that went with Quinn dragging the zipper on her jacket was becoming annoying.

"Quinn," Sam started. "About what happened last week—"

"Its fine," she was quick to cut him off.

"I just want to apologize…"

"I told you, it's fine," she said firmly. Something in her eyes speaks that she really does not want to talk about it. As if talking about it would just make her cry right then and there. She reached for a stick of bread, breaking it into small pieces on her plate.

Sam gripped the edge of the table. It was just too much. She wouldn't talk to him, or look him in the eye, or even just listen to his apology. "I don't want us to be like this."

"There is no us, okay!" Her voice rose a little towards the end. "So can you please drop it."

"I just want things to get back to the way they were!" Sam looked around to make sure no one was watching them. The last thing he wanted was to get everyone's attention.

"So is this what its suppose to be? Did you invite me for dinner to apologize and tell me how past is past, everyone makes mistakes, we're only human, and all those other clichés?" Quinn bombarded him with questions.

"I'm not," Sam replied. "We're just here for dinner. Simple as that…except that I just want to know why you're so mad at me..."

The waitress finally came back with their food. With the scent of her plate of bacon and eggs, it was a challenge for Quinn not to dig in her plate face first. She grasped the silver fork and timidly pushed the food around her plate. "Look, I know you wanna be friends and put this all behind us but this is who I am now. I don't expect to find anyone who would like me regardless of everything that happened last year," her voice almost toxic.

"That's the problem. It's because of all those things that I like you. You are brave, Quinn, and I don't want one accident to close your heart up to everyone."

"You talk like you know me," she scoffed.

"It's because I do," he looked her in the eyes. "One mistake turns you from most popular kid in school to a complete social outcast. Why else would I move all the way here to Lima?"

"I'm not interested with a rundown of your life so save me the sob story and let's just get this over with, okay?" Quinn took both utensils in her hands in ate. The bacon was just too distracting.

"Why do you have to build all these walls around you? What are you so afraid of?" Sam asked as if it was the simplest question in the world. He brought a spoonful of food to his mouth and chewed.

You, maybe, she couldn't help but think. "People I trust don't exactly have a good track record in my book. It's like they've made it a game: who can screw Quinn Fabray over the worst wins!"

"Don't say that," Sam frowned. "You're the Queen Bee, the HBIC. You're the most popular girl in school—"

"When will you realize that popularity isn't everything? They say I'm popular but yet I have not one true friend. What does that have to say about popularity?" she dabbed the side of her lips and brought her glass of water to her lips. Now that there was food in her system, she wasn't too cranky.

"Well, you're not exactly the easiest person to approach," Sam whispered to himself, biting into his food.

"What did you say?" Quinn heard.

Sam quickly swallowed his food. "I'm just saying, you're pretty intense. It's hard not to get intimidated by you."

Quinn leaned over the table, looking straight into his eyes. "Then why aren't you?" she asked in almost a whisper.

"Because I saw the real Quinn," Sam started. "I liked her."

She leaned back on the soft cushion of the booth. Quinn unconsciously bit her bottom lip, a thing she did when she was thinking…or was scared. Puck found it cute. He said he felt like kissing her every time she bit on them lightly.

"I'm sorry I'm a bitch."

"I'm sorry that my jokes aren't so funny," Sam replied. He had a dorky grin on his face and Quinn couldn't stop herself from smiling. Okay, he's cute, so what? Quinn thought. There's something about his boyish charm that felt so pure.

"Okay, if you want me to trust you, I have to know something about you…and not the 'Hi, my name is Sam, I love Nicholas Sparks's novels, candle-light dinners, and long walks on the beach' answers."

"Well, for one, I'm dyslexic so I have difficulty reading. But I do read Stephen King novels even if it takes me quite a while to finish one. And two, I do very accurate impressions of popular sci-fi characters,: he says before he goes into a monologue in a funny voice.

"So, I'm guessing you never had a girlfriend," Quinn joked.

"I've never really gone out on a date. All-boys school, remember?" he blushed, a bit embarrassed for his lack of experience.

Quinn laughs. "I can't say I'm surprised."

...

In just a week, Quinn and Sam went from being good friends, to ignoring each other after the kiss incident, and back to friends. A lot could happen in just a week. The weekend itself felt like a week. They stayed in as Sam showed Quinn his sci-fi video collection. They even watched a most of them. Most of them seemed a bit confusing to her. Sam would have to explain what was going on, but out of the lot, she seemed to like Lord of the Rings the most.

Now the weekend was over and both had to face another 5 days of school. Today, they drive to school in Sam's Jeep.

"So, a little birdie tells me you went out on a date with Sam last Friday at BreadstiX," she felt Santana nudge her with her elbow. It was Science class and Mrs. Wilson was in the middle of discussing about carbon footprint and biocapacity.

"Geez Santana, it's not even third period yet and you're already down my throat," Quinn said, scribbling on her notebook, pretending she was taking down notes.

Santana slid closer to Quinn. If there was one thing you need to know about Mrs. Wilson, it's that if she catches you talking, you will definitely not hear the end of it. "I don't blame you. There's something off about his mouth-to-face ratio but he still manages to be hot," Santana was now randomly scanning through their lecture book.

"I think its cute," a small smile played on Quinn's lips. She was now doodling drawings of lips on her notebook.

"Oh my god, you two are doing it, aren't you?" Santana nudged Quinn again. "You slut!" Somehow, Santana made it seem like a compliment.

"Keep your voice down, San!" Quinn lightly slapped Santana's side. Mrs. Wilson was still droning on. "And no, we're not even dating."

"So?"

"So that means we're not doing it," Quinn said in a hushed voice.

"Why not? He's in your house every day. He's hot. What's keeping you? It's not like he has a girlfriend and even if he did, it doesn't matter," Santana replied so quickly, it sounded like one sentence.

"I'm not interested in him, okay. And he's probably not interested in me either. So can we just keep it at that. Not every teenager is hormonal to the point that they just jump on each other's bones, okay," Quinn's page was full of random doodles and scribbles. She turned to a clean sheet.

"Suit yourself. Besides, I was just checking to make sure you're not into him," Santana shrugged then sat up straight, eyes forward. "More for me then."

"Didn't you just got back together with Puck?"

"We did but I don't know. He's not himself lately," Santana fiddled with her ponytail. "I tried pulling him into the janitor's closet earlier but he pushed me away. I asked him what was up and he just said he's still not over some girl he got with last week…"

Quinn, who was pretending to be busy copying notes, was now all ears.

"I swear, he can be such a girl sometimes. So not sexy," Santana scrunched up her face in disgust. "That's why I plan on getting with trouty lips to entertain me in the mean time."

"You can't just play with him, San. He seems like a real nice guy," Quinn dropped her hands to her side and faced her seatmate. She almost forgot that she was still in class.

"Which is exactly what I need, Q. I need someone who will treat me right, be nice, and buy me expensive things every now and then," her friend replied. "Besides, you said it yourself, you're not into him… So why care?"

Why did she care? Was it because during the course of the weekend, she seemed to grow fond of him? Was it because she truly didn't want him to be used by Santana? Or was it something else?

The bell rung, signaling the end of second period.

"You know what, I have to go meet Brittany. She missed first period so I'm guessing she's lost somewhere in the library," Santana gathered her stuff, standing up to leave. "…And I have to move fast and catch my fish cause he seems to be popular with the freshmen Cheerios…"

Quinn never thought about the possibility of other girls taking an interest in him. Sure, he is cute. He's a good football player. He's really nice. Who am I kidding? Of course other girls would like him. Sam was perfect and for some reason, she was jealous. She felt silly for thinking that she could just keep him to herself, in her house. Sooner or later, he would move out and he would like some Cheerio. Would he even talk to me after he moves out? She mentally asks herself. Walking down the halls to her locker, she tries dialing in her locker combination when she sees him from afar with a Cheerio, Jessica.

She observes them a little. Sam seemed to enjoy talking to her. I wonder what they're talking about since that Jessica is as dumb as a bag of rocks. They're conversation wasn't long but at the end of it, she sees Jessica reach into her pocket and take a small piece of paper and hand it to Sam. He takes it and stuffs it in his pocket. They say their goodbyes and part ways, heading off to their next class.

"You're with Evans?" a voice booms from behind her. She spins around to find Puck, an obviously not so happy Puck, behind her.

"Seriously? I just had that talk with Santana."

"So are you?"

"No, Puck. I'm not with Sam," she tugs the lock down, opening it. "How did you find out about that anyway?"

"It's all over that Jacob kid's blog," he said, waiting for an explanation.

"Great," Quinn muttered sarcastically, shutting her locker door close. "I'm not with Sam, okay. Now would you please leave me alone?" she pushes past him.

She was running late for her next class and seeing Puck just reminded her of last year.

...

Quinn couldn't bring herself to interrogate Sam about Jessica earlier. He wasn't hers. They weren't together. He had all the right to date anyone he wanted. After talking for a little in the living room, Sam excuses himself so that he could go to his room and take a bath. She waited until he was in the showers before she made her move.

Quietly, she turned the knob of his door and pushed it open. His clothes were carelessly strewn on the floor in front of the toilet. Last week, she spent every moment they were together ignoring him. Now, she's sneaking into his room, fishing around his jeans for the sheet of paper. There! She felt it inside his right pocket. His pants fell to the ground as she unfolded the small sheet of paper. It was exactly as she suspected. Her phone number with a flirty 'call me' on the bottom.

Crumpling the paper or tossing it away would be too suspicious. His pocket was quite deep and he surely wouldn't lose it. She thought for a while – sitting on the edge of his bed, paper in one hand. Inside the toilet, the water was running and Sam was singing a song by The Script. She had to think fast. How could she 'accidentally' destroy it…

As the idea pops in her head, she jumps to pick up the rest of his clothes from the floor and even the ones inside his laundry basket. She carries the armful of his clothes all the way out of his room and to the closet where they kept the washing machine. She dumps all of it inside, not forgetting to 'accidentally' leave the sheet of paper inside his jean pocket. Detergent. Set the time. Start. If ever she felt guilty of anything, it was not segregating the whites from the colored. Oh well…

Quinn plops down on the sofa, listening to the rhythm of the washing machine, doing her dirty job for her. After a couple of minutes, and a few rinses, the washing machine goes on its last cycle. She hears a door open and Sam comes out of his room, his skin glistening with water and his hair damp. Only a towel wrapped around his waist kept him from being naked.

"Did you get my clothes?" he asks her.

"Uhhh yeah, I was walking by your room and I saw them on the floor. I was gonna do laundry anyway so I decided to do yours as well," it was all a lie. First of all, his door was closed. Second, her mom always did the laundry.

"Oh, okay…" he nodded. "It was just that I had something in the pocket in my jeans…"

"Oh no! I didn't check. Was it important?" she faked concern.

"Nah, it was nothing," he grinned before heading back to his room to get clothed.

He couldn't see it but Quinn had a victorious smile on her face.

(March 21, 2011)