Well, I couldn't stay away from Sam and Quinn for too long. This one is pretty random, I'll say that much. It's also nothing like my other one so I don't know if that's a good or bad thing. Leave me some reviews and let me know if you're interested in me continuing this or not! Very AU.
The only thing you need to know:
-All of the Glee kids went to school together-except Quinn. I don't care where they went to school. You can pretend it was Lima and they simply all moved (unlikely, but hey, it's fiction) to LA. Or you can say they all went to high school in LA together.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
"Sam," an obnoxious voice aroused him from his sleep. He was fairly certain he knew why he was being summoned and instead of pretending to be busy with work he decided on manning up. He walked into her office, keeping his head low.
"Yes, ," he greeted before fixing his blue tie. The older woman looked him up and down before giving him a nod of approval. "I think I understand what you wish to speak to me about."
"Do you, Samuel?" He nodded. She took a sip out of the coffee beverage that was seated on the desk before shuffling through various papers. "I specifically gave you this young woman's number for you to call and ask her out on a date. My husband is simply smitten by the young thing and is desperate for me to find her a suitor." Sam gulped before loosening the tie around his neck a great amount. So, he had thought he was being called in about not finishing his column-not this.
"You see, I thought it wouldn't work since I'm not…" he frowned. He had no idea what to say to finish that thought. He could screw everything up and be fired. "Jewish," he snapped his fingers and gave her a smile.
"Sweetie, I explained already that this doesn't matter. She doesn't have to marry into the religion." Sam felt his chest constrict. Marriage? Dating? It was all too much.
"I'll think about it, Mrs. Epstein." She nodded before looking down at her papers. Sam nodded awkwardly before turning around to leave.
"Oh, Sam," the dark haired woman called out. The blond boy turned around quickly with an arched brow. "It seems as though some of your fans have taken to old fashion snail mail again," she stated before walking over to a stack in the corner of the room. "I told Javier to deliver this to you, but he didn't listen."
"Thank you, Mrs. Epstein," he ran over to her and grabbed the stack of letters before making his way out of the office. He sighed in relief once he was in the clear and made his way to his small room.
Upon sitting in the uncomfortable desk he flipped through the various letters. Each one was identical to the other.
Why does my boyfriend not want to go out with me to the mall?
After about twenty letters of the same thing he threw the pages around and watched as they fell in various places of his room.
"Dude, what are you doing?" A voice shouted-efficiently giving him a heart attack. He turned his swivel chair around and smirked at his best friend who was wearing nothing but boxers and an Avatar t-shirt.
"Why are you wearing my shirt?" The man began to open his mouth to speak but Sam was quick to interrupt, "why aren't you wearing pants, man?"
"Bro, you know I don't know how to wash clothes. I thought about walking around in the nude, but I figured I would get turned in for being too damn sexy."
"Puck," Sam quickly interrupted, disgust evident in his face, "you can't be my roommate if you're going to steal my Avatar shirt." The mohawked boy scratched the patch of his hair before smirking. "Why are you looking like that?"
"Are you reading your letters?" He asked while pointing to the crumpled up sheets of paper littering the floor. "You know that Puck could help some of the fine ladies out. I don't mind." Sam chuckled before rolling his eyes.
Noah Puckerman had been his best friend since high school. They had pretty much grown up together. Sure, maybe they'd only known each other for those last four years of school, but isn't that when dudes really start to mature anyway? Sam looked at the guy in front of him before realizing that maybe it took longer than that.
"You know I would get fired if they found out you were using my advice column to score." Puck grunted before sitting in the chair opposite of Sam.
"Dude, you write for a chick's magazine. I think that's pretty much the opposite of badass. You might as well get some tail out of hearing these girls complain about their periods and shit." Sam ran his fingers through his hair and laughed at the guy before him.
"You know I'm not interested in dating," Sam finally replied-all the humor that had previously been there-gone. Puck's features softened.
"You can't get hung up on what Rachel did. That was in high school. What are the odds that she's even with Finn anymore?" Sam shrugged, hoping that Puck would drop the subject. "Look dude, you're 21, you look alright, you have chicks throwing themselves at you all the time. You should take advantage of that."
"I guess so," Sam muttered before raising his laptop screen up. He might as well have checked "Ryan's" e-mails while he was in the office.
"Rachel was your high school girl, Bro. Get over the bitch and get under another one. When was the last time you got laid, Man? You know our walls are like paper thin. I never hear any action going on in there." Sam flushed.
"I know they are-no thanks to you and your posse of sluts," he snapped. Puck looked pleased with himself before reaching across Sam's desk and grabbing some peppermints from a jar. He ignored the man-child across from him as he stumbled across an e-mail signed "A Naïve Girl."
I feel stupid writing you. My friends read this magazine and say that your advice is usually very helpful.
I've been with my boyfriend since our sophomore year of high school. I recently found out that he's been cheating on me almost the entire time. He tells me that it meant nothing and that he truly does love me. He begs me to stay with him. I thought I loved him; this is all just a fatal blow.
What do I do?
He sighed. He knew exactly how the poor girl felt despite the fact that his heartache came over two years ago. He bookmarked her letter, determined to use hers in his column. He looked up at Puck who was staring at him as though he had grown four heads. "Did you say something?"
"Have you not been listening to me? They're better be like naked chicks on that screen," Puck exclaimed before grabbing the laptop. He propped his legs up on the desk before beginning to read the screen with rapt interest. "Dude," Puck whispered sadly.
"Don't, Puck," Sam replied before holding his hands out. "I need to get back to work. Mrs. Epstein needs at least ten entries from me by four." Puck nodded before handing the laptop back over. Sam tried his best to ignore the look of guilt on Puck's face. "It isn't your fault, okay?" Sam whispered. Puck nodded before running his hands through the mohawk again.
"You just have to write back to ten chicks. Why is that going to take you all day?" Puck questioned curiously. Sam tugged at his tie before pulling it overhead and resting it on his desk. "I told Brittany that we would show up at Santana's birthday party later." Sam groaned. He and Santana did not get along well. She had mellowed out since getting back together with the blonde girl, but she could still be ferocious.
"What time is that at?" Puck shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know, but you need to be home to wash me some clothes." Sam scoffed before standing up and pulling his wallet out. Puck's eyes lit up at the prospect of being given money.
"I'm not washing your clothes, Puck. I'll try to teach you how to work the laundry or something." Puck's brows furrowed. "Here's some cash. Take something nice of yours and take it to a cleaner." Puck held his hand out expectantly. "I swear, I'm getting a new roommate."
"But you love me, Man. No one is better than Puckzilla," he shouted before flexing his muscles. Sam grinned before something caught his attention. He stood up and looked past Puck, jaw dropped. "What is it? Was it a fine chick?" Puck shouted before turning around.
"No," Sam replied before shaking his head as though trying to wake himself up, "it was nothing. I thought I saw someone." Puck nodded before snatching the money out of Sam's hand. "I'm going to find out what time that party is. You better be there." Puck saluted before sauntering out of his office.
He sighed before opening his laptop back up and getting to work.
"Hey Brittany, it's Sam," he stated while playing with some quarters on his desk. "…Evans," he added once the girl said nothing. "You know, we went to high school together? Santana makes fun of my lips?"
"Hi, Sam," the bubbly blonde shouted into the phone. "What's up?" He scratched the back of his neck before reaching for a pen and tapping on his desk calendar.
"What time is Santana's party?"
"It's at nine." Sam wrote the information down along with the bar name before hanging up with the blonde. He looked at his watch and sighed. He had thirty minutes left to get four more letters in. He couldn't help that he had spent such a great amount of time on the letter he had received earlier.
He rushed through the rest of his motions as though it were a dance he had perfected years ago. He picked all of the same questions from girls whose boyfriends wouldn't carry their purses or hold their hands in public before he found himself in front of Mrs. Epstein's office with his flash drive and printed off versions of his work.
"Excellent job, Sam," she yelled before taking a drink out of a cup. He guessed it was some sort of soda but her actions were making him think she was following the "five o'clock somewhere" saying a little too closely. "Have you thought about my offer?"
"Ma'am, I'm unsure of what offer you're talking about," he replied in confusion. His boss tilted her head back in laughter. He worried she would tip out of her chair, but she seemed to sober up before that could happen.
"The date. Please let me set you up on this date, Sam. It could be very promising for you." He was certain that his jaw was on the floor. He didn't know what she was getting at, but Mrs. Epstein was known for being very devious. He had always tried to stay on her good side.
"What do you mean?" She chuckled before setting her glass down and looking Sam over.
"Samuel Evans, you're a young man. Say you were promoted to, I don't know; what would Sam like to be promoted to?" Sam clenched his fists.
Sam hadn't signed up for this job because he had been interested in journalism or anything at all like that. Somehow he had simply just been picked up for it. He couldn't even remember why he had gotten the job. He hadn't any degrees that had anything to do with English. He assumed he was just a pretty face for the women in the office to look at.
"You know I don't intend to stay here forever, Mrs. Epstein." The lady nodded before taking another sip from her drink.
"It's one date, Sam," she replied. "For my husband, please. It's not a lifelong commitment. Just do me this favor, and I'll owe you something in return, alright?" He sighed. He couldn't exactly get out of it. His boss was asking him for something. If he said no he would get fired and end up like Puck.
"Yes ma'am," he stated before turning to leave.
"Thank you, dear. I'll let you know tomorrow about the specifics of the date." He nodded before waving.
He threw himself into his bed. It had been a long day at work and he simply wanted to go to sleep. He had Santana's party to attend, and he still had to go pick out a gift. He dramatically pulled himself up out of bed and walked over to his closet.
He settled on a gray suit with a black tie. He was certain he would be overdressed, but he simply wanted people to think he was too important to talk to-especially women.
He pulled out his clothes before laying them gently on his bed and looking at the alarm clock on his nightstand. He could run out and buy the Latina a present in plenty of time. He took his glasses off and set them gently on his dresser before heading out to find the perfect gift.
He ran into Puck literally two seconds after leaving his bedroom.
"Man, I think you need to leave the glasses on if it's gonna make you have those kinds of problem," Puck shouted. "I don't want you grabbin' my junk, bro." Sam fought the urge to gag.
"Don't flatter yourself, Dude. Did you get Santana a present?" Puck laughed-until realizing Sam was being serious. He looked around the room as though a present would magically appear for him to take.
"No?" Sam sighed before pushing past his bumbling idiot of a friend and making his way downtown.
Two hours later he trudged back into his apartment, tired and ill. He had found a bracelet. He didn't know whether or not Santana would like it, but it sure as hell cost enough. He threw the wrapped gift onto the kitchen table before making his way towards the bathroom.
He twisted the doorknob only to find that it was locked. "Puckerman, what are you doing?" He shouted through the wooden door.
"I was taking my weekly shower. I want to be clean for the ladies tonight." Sam scrunched his nose up in disgust before going back to the small living room and sitting down on the couch.
He felt his eyes growing heavy but fought against the sleep he knew was attempting to come.
He awoke to Puck punching him in the bicep. His instincts told him to punch the leech in the face until he couldn't' see straight, but his common sense won out. He rolled his eyes and chose to ignore Puck. He waltzed towards the bathroom and pulled his slacks and dress shirt off. He looked at himself in the mirror and sighed.
He was a good looking guy. Sure, he didn't have the Justin Beiber locks going for him anymore and he'd let his natural hair color come through, but he wasn't disgusting. Still, he couldn't bring himself to accept the offers he had received from different girls. His heart had never healed, and he didn't want to chance getting crushed again.
Being alone didn't sound all that bad, anyway.
He shed his boxers and stepped into the shower before lathering himself down and washing his hair. His muscles were stiff-no doubt from just sitting behind a desk all day.
He needed a new job. He needed a new life.
He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist before heading into his bedroom. The numbers on his clock taunted him almost. It was just another hour of the same day. Sometimes he felt like he was stuck in that movie where the guy relives the same day over and over. He had been forced to watch it on one of his first dates with Rachel.
That was years ago though and it didn't matter.
He felt empty. No, scratch that. He didn't feel anything.
He grabbed some boxers and eased them on before throwing the towel into his dirty clothes hamper. He reached for his deodorant and made a mental note to buy more before putting some on. Despite the fact that he lived with Puck he didn't want to smell like Puck.
He picked his dress shirt up and checked it for any creases before sliding the material on and buttoning it. He grabbed the grey slacks and pulled them up before tucking his shirt in and fastening the pants. He looked himself in the mirror and sighed.
Life for Sam Evans sucked.
He picked up his black tie and quickly put it on before wondering if he needed to go check on Puck's outfit. Sometimes the resident badass had pretty decent taste in clothing. Sometimes though…well, Sam didn't want to relive his 19th birthday party.
He tousled his hair to give it a defined look before going in search of his roommate. "Puck?"
"Yeah, man," was called from the other end of the apartment. "Do you need to borrow some condoms?" He asked, a little too hopeful for Sam's liking. He knew that everyone worried about him, but they really didn't need to.
"No." He wandered into Noah's room before looking at the boy fixing his hair. Sam never understood why Puck insisted on taking so much time for his hair. It's not as though it could actually move. "I was just making sure you were dressed properly."
"Dude, you aren't my mama. Thank God for that, too," he grumbled under his breath. Sam ignored the boy and looked at his watch.
"You taking a ride with me or are you going yourself?"
"I'm going myself. I don't plan on coming home with you," Puck replied while flexing his biceps. Sam rolled his eyes before exiting the room and going back to his own.
He put on his socks and shoes and brushed his teeth before sliding his blazer on. He grabbed his glasses and strutted out of the apartment and to his car-not before picking up the devil's gift.
"Happy birthday, Santana," he shouted over the music before handing her the small box. She smiled and gave the dirty blond haired boy a hug. "Congratulations on the new case," he exclaimed. She pulled away and pointed to the seat across from her.
"It's all because of you, Sam," she shouted before wrapping an arm around the blonde beside her. "You know, as much as we fight…well, we make a good team." Sam nodded before raising his glass.
"That we do," he replied. "Who all is coming tonight?" The Latina looked to Brittany who simply shrugged her shoulders.
"I forgot who I invited," she replied sheepishly. Santana bit her lip to hide a smile before looking at Sam.
Five minutes later and it seemed the entire city of LA had showed up. Bodies were bumping and grinding, leaving Sam feeling slightly out of place. He maneuvered himself over to the bar and sat at an empty stool. "I just want some water," he told the bartender who nodded.
He looked to his left and saw a blonde girl sitting by herself. He couldn't tell much about her physical features. Her face was buried in a magazine, but it broke his heart to see her so alone. He eased himself down two seats and prayed to God the girl wouldn't be a psycho. "Excuse me," he interrupted. The blonde looked up.
In that instance Sam Evans was captivated. The blonde had these piercing eyes. They weren't brown, but they weren't all green. They were a swirl of both that drew you in. "Whoa," he whispered to himself. The next thing he noticed was that there was nothing unattractive about that girl. He felt palpitations in his chest but wrote it off to heartburn, despite the fact that he had never had it in his life.
"Can I help you?"
"You have pretty eyes," he responded before he could help himself. He slapped his hand over his mouth. He hadn't been so blatantly stupid since he had been in high school. He had tried his best to change his ways. For the past three years that Sam Evans had been gone, replaced by the new him. Unfortunately the bumbling teenage fool decided to show up that very night.
"Please don't hit on me," she snapped. "I'm not interested." Sam felt his spirits break. He wasn't interested in hitting on the girl, but the fact that she was so adamantly against him hurt his pride. "Sorry, that was rude of me," she added softly.
"It's alright. I shouldn't have been a creeper." He chuckled. "What are you reading?" He wanted to make some kind of conversation. She blushed-or maybe it was a trick of the lighting-and closed the magazine before sliding it over.
Sam choked on his water. Of all the magazines in the world she had to be reading that one. "Let me guess." She interrupted his thoughts," you think I'm a typical blonde bimbo now, right? I'm checking for the newest sex position to try." She flashed him a sad smile before opening the magazine back up.
"Well, I hope they are worthy of your time." He felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment. That had been twice in one night that he had sounded like some perverted 16 year old boy. "I didn't mean that," he stuttered. She rolled her eyes playfully before shutting the magazine.
"There's this guy in here who answers questions these girls ask him." Sam nodded. "It's interesting seeing what goes on inside guy's minds, you know?" Sam chuckled before taking a drink from the bottle of water.
"I can tell you this much-it isn't interesting." She laughed genuinely. It was almost like music to his ears. "I am Sam, Sam I am, and I don't like green eggs and ham," he finished. She threw her head back in laughter and he immediately felt his ears burning. "Oh God, I haven't done that since high school."
"It was cute," she replied with a warm smile. "I'm Quinn." He stuck his hand out in some sort of lame attempt to shake her hand but instead knocked her glass over.
"Shit," he shouted before jumping up and reaching over the bar to grab some napkins. "I am so sorry, Quinn." He began to wipe at her chest awkwardly before realizing what he was doing. "Crap, I'm going to stop now." He pushed the clump of napkins into her lap before turning to walk away.
"Sam," she shouted. He turned around, certain she was going to inform him that she was going to file a restraining order against him. "I thought we were having a conversation?" She flashed him a beautiful smile; he immediately rushed back over and jumped on the stool.
"I really am sorry. I'm not usually this clumsy. I left that Sam back in high school." She nodded with amusement before continuing to wipe at her clothes.
"It seems he's been coming out a lot tonight, huh?" He nodded sheepishly before removing his glasses and wiping them off on a spare napkin.
"Sam!" He turned around upon hearing a familiar voice calling for him. He groaned upon seeing Puck and Santana bounding over. Puck's eyes lit up-probably at the prospect of Sam being with a girl. Santana simply smirked before crossing her arms over her chest. "We're going out for karaoke. We figured it could be some kind of glee club reunion."
"Oh, alright," he replied somewhat sadly. Puck wiggled his eyebrows before stepping forwards.
"I'm sure Santana wouldn't mind if Sam brought you along," he said while looking at Quinn. Santana shook her head before stepping around Puck.
"Actually, you should. Sam hasn't sung since he debuted 'Baby' back in high school." Sam covered his face with his hands-hoping everything was just a horrible nightmare. He peeked through his fingers long enough to see Quinn smiling. His embarrassment quickly vanished.
He didn't care if they made fun of him if it kept Quinn laughing. "You sang Justin Beiber," Quinn shrieked. Sam nodded.
"He was a like the guy's older brother," Puck replied. "He had the blonde hair and the bangs. Tell her, Bro," Puck nodded while slapping Sam in the back.
"Yeah," Sam grumbled. "I've changed a lot since then," he pointedly stated. Santana tugged at Puck's wrist before looking at Sam and Quinn.
"You two better be there," she shouted before pulling Puck away.
"Sorry about that," Sam stated. "I guess I'd better go. It was nice to meet you, Quinn." She looked confused for a moment.
"Nice to meet you, too, Sam." She grabbed her clutch before chasing after him. "They said I could come, right?" Sam nodded a small smile on his face. "Well, I don't feel like spending the rest of the night at this bar."
"This way, my lady," he cooed before holding his arm out for her.
Continue? Or trash it? Promise my feelings won't get hurt. I probably don't need to be adding another story to the list of things I should be doing anyway. :P