Sorry this has taken so long to get up here. I do have some good news though? Sorta? Ha, I have a few chapters of my next Sam/Quinn story ready to be posted so I can upload those whenever you guys want!
Summer school has been kicking my ass, seriously. I don't know why I decided to try and get certain classes out of the way. I dread every single day. :P Anyway, that being said this chapter is rushed, I know. I just needed to get it done with so that I would have one less thing to worry about.
Sorry for the mistakes; they are bound to be plentiful. :D
He stood outside of the apartment complex before flicking his wrist lightly, sending his watch in the appropriate direction. He sighed and adjusted his tie before pulling his cell phone out of the pocket of his coat and sending the missing brunette a text.
"Dude, you're allowed to wait inside, you know," a gruff voice sounded from behind him. He turned around and was greeted by the sight of his own roommate, who admittedly hadn't been much of a roommate lately. "Rachel looks really pretty tonight. I think you should be honored and stuff that she wanted to go with you," Puck added before adjusting his junk. Sam made a gagging noise before pushing past his sort-of roommate.
"What's going on with you and here, dude? First you're actually showering and then you're staying with one girl all of the time. Should I be worried?" Puck slapped his back playfully and shoved him towards the right direction.
"Little Puck was worried I might get herpes if I kept going down that road. I decided to stick with a clean chick for a while," he finished, much to Sam's horror.
"That's not even…" Sam trailed off, not sure that he actually wanted to continue down the path their conversation was heading in. "Look, I'm glad that you're happy is all I'm trying to say." Puck stopped moving; Sam assumed they had reached Rachel's door.
"Thanks," he whispered in a moment of sincerity. "I'm glad that you and Quinn are doing well, too. I've been kind of worried about you the past few years. You've been like a monk. I can't even imagine how blue your balls are."
"Dude," Sam chastised, "that's disgusting." He felt his shoulders slump with his deflated mood. "We also broke up," he added. He hadn't seen Puck since the break-up, and he had refused to send the guy a text like a heartbroken girl wanting someone to talk to.
"The hell? You didn't tell me because?" Puck snapped, pulling Sam back as he tried to reach for the doorknob. "We're bros, you tell me shit and I act like I'm listening." Sam ran his fingers through his styled hair and sighed.
"Then how do you know I didn't already tell you if you just pretend, huh?" Puck rubbed a hand against his sculptured chin and hummed.
"That's a valid point, but I listen when you talk about blondie just so I can find out if you guys did the deed yet. I need a visual image of that girl." Puck yelped when a fist collided with his bicep. He opened his mouth to question his best friend further, but Sam, anticipating that, opened the door to Rachel's small apartment.
"Rachel," Sam shouted upon entering and finding her looking in a mirror, fixing stray pieces of hair. "Puck was right, you look beautiful tonight." The brunette smiled, meeting Sam's eyes through the mirror, before turning around.
"You cleaned up nice, Samuel," Rachel replied. "Quinn's a very lucky girl." Puck sent him a glare before looking back at the brunette.
"Well, they broke up," Noah exclaimed. Sam then sent him an icy glance in return before holding his arm out for Rachel.
"We need to get going, Rachel. Mrs. Epstein is a crazy old lady. You don't know how she feels about people being late until you suffer her wrath." Rachel rolled her eyes but accepted his arm.
"Bye Noah," she whispered once they walked near the Jewish boy. He sent her a shy smile that turned into a beam upon receiving a chaste kiss on the cheek.
Seconds later they found themselves in Sam's small car, driving towards what he assumed would be a train wreck. "Why did you and Quinn break up?" A small voice whispered from the passenger side. Sam sighed, unsure of whether or not he was ready to have that conversation.
"We just weren't going to work, Rachel," he replied, proud of himself for keeping an even tone. The brunette was tuned well with people and their feelings. He didn't want the girl to pick apart anything because of a hitch in his voice.
"That's not true." Apparently he wasn't as smooth as he thought. He continued to give his undivided attention to the barely moving traffic and prayed that the subject would get dropped. "At least tell me the truth. I'm going to some stupid thing with you because your boss thinks we're dating. The way I look at it, you kind of owe me." He clenched the steering wheel before craning his head to the side to give her an incredulous look.
"She didn't think I was enough for her. I was too boring. She went to you to ask me what I used to be like. She wants the Sam that dated you, not the guy I am today. She doesn't understand that I'm just not freaking ready to get engaged and plan weddings. I'm not ready to be anything but what we were. Dates and stuff like that are cool. I'm just not ready to ravish her on a bed of roses or something." Rachel giggled from beside him, only enraging him further. "This is your fault, you know. You messed me up and now the one girl I've shown interest in since high school thinks I'm a screw-up."
The brunette's laughter quickly diminished. "Sam," she whispered while placing a calming hand on top of his. "Quinn doesn't think that. I know that I hurt you, but Quinn-she gets that. You should give her more credit than that." Sam simply snorted. "And so what if she talked to me? I am her friend. Friends talk."
"It's different and you know it."
"Did she tell you that you weren't enough?" Rachel questioned while slowly shifting in her seat, wary of her dress. Sam mumbled something under his breath. "What?"
"I said no," he repeated. "I found it." Rachel began to laugh again, only this time to his confusion it lacked any sort of humor. "What?" He snapped.
"You went through her stuff. So, you broke up with her because what? She lied to you about some stuff that wasn't that big of a deal? She talked to me? You're kind of doing the same thing, Sam." His jaw dropped.
"No, I'm not," he weakly mumbled, despite the fact that he knew he was wrong.
"Yes, you are," Rachel shouted. "She doesn't know we're going to this together. She doesn't know that your boss thinks you and I are dating, does she?"
"Just shut up," he grumbled before turning his radio on.
"Rachel Berry, I'm pleased to finally meet you. Mr. Evans here certainly draws on his work from you." Sam rolled his eyes while Rachel milked the attention. She sent him a smirk and continued to let his boss give her appraises. "He seems to give advice at his best when you two are together."
"Advice?" Rachel questioned before looking at Sam in confusion.
"Oh, nothing," Sam interrupted with a nervous chuckle. "Come on Rachel, I'll get you some wine," he quickly spoke while pulling the petite girl away. "Do you want to go sit down at our table yet or do you want to keep on walking around?"
"We can walk around," Rachel said. "Sam," she whispered after a minute of people-watching. He looked at her, waiting for her to ask a question or tell him that she wanted something. "What exactly is it that you do here?" He grabbed a flute of wine off the tray of a man walking by before tilting it back.
"I write," he replied once he had swallowed all of the sparkling drink.
"Yes, I understand that," Rachel explained, "but what do you do?" He sighed before pulling her towards a vacant stairway.
"You know the advice guy you asked me about once?" Rachel nodded. "You wrote him once, right?"
"No," Rachel trailed off, a small blush adorning her cheeks.
"You did though. He was an ass when he wrote you back, right?" Rachel tilted her head to the side and arched an eyebrow. "I'm Ryan," Sam whispered before letting his shoulders drop-as though he had finally gotten rid of the world resting on his shoulders. "And I know all that stuff Quinn thinks about me because she wrote Ryan. A lot. I'd been writing back to her as him like a long time before we got together." Rachel's jaw slacked. "That's why I couldn't tell my boss that you and I broke up because I would have to invite Quinn to this thing, and then she would find out that I'm Ryan. I'm the guy who has been giving her advice about… me. She would have dumped me on the spot, Rach," he pleaded, hoping she understood his motives.
"Sam," she whispered before pulling his body flush against hers. She rested her head lightly on his chest and sighed into the warm embrace. "You're mad at Quinn for lying to you, but you've been doing the same exact thing," she mumbled into his chest.
A flashing light brought them both out of the intimate position. Sam felt the grip on his arm tighten within a matter of seconds. "Rachel, what's wrong?" He asked before turning to face the camera. Instantly his gaze hardened. "What are you doing here?"
"Did Rachel never tell you?" A laugh. "Or Quinn, you do like my seconds after all. I'm a photographer for the lame events." Sam's jaw clenched as he kept his fists tightened into balls.
"I'm surprised you know how to turn the camera on," he retorted with fire in his eyes. He felt Rachel's hold grow stronger, almost as if she knew that he would lose control. "Take pictures of me, it doesn't bother me," Sam replied before turning around.
"Maybe not," Finn called out. "But they hit the papers tonight. Hope this one doesn't accidentally make it in there with an unflattering caption. Bet your current girlfriend wouldn't like that." Finn paused to let the words sink in. "Or is Rachel your girlfriend again? I can't keep up with you, Dude." He snarled before pushing past the giant and towards the table he was to be seated at, Rachel several feet behind him.
"Out of all the jobs for him to end up with," Sam ranted after the dinner had officially started. "How could you ever date him, Rachel?" He questioned before stuffing his face with a spoonful of mashed potatoes.
"Sam, I'm sorry for everything that happened in our past. I need you to know that." He nodded. "Within the next month I'm going to be stepping out of my position. I'm going back to Broadway. I don't belong here." He smiled at the thought of the brunette finally getting to where she belonged, and for the first time in years he realized that he was glad he wasn't going to be with her. He had found someone that although not necessarily better or worse, was the person for him.
"I'm really glad, Rachel," his voice conveyed nothing but pure honesty.
"I know this job doesn't really keep you happy. You've done wonders for our system. I was wondering if perhaps you would like to be promoted. You would get trained, you know, firsthand experience and everything so you wouldn't be going in blindly. I think that they could really use you." Sam grinned cheekily before nodding.
"You don't know how long I've wanted out of this job," he exclaimed before taking another mouthful of food.
"You need to work things out with Quinn though," the brunette whispered. Sam nodded; thoughts of how to win the blonde back already racing through his mind.
"Let's leave," he exclaimed before grabbing Rachel's wrist and tugging her towards the exit. He groaned in frustration upon seeing Mrs. Epstein once again waving him over. "Let's leave after we deal with this lady," he explained. Rachel giggled but followed his lead. "Mrs. Epstein, I'm afraid my date is feeling ill."
"Oh, darling, I'm so sorry to hear that," the graying woman explained. "One last picture before you two run off." She twirled into Sam's free side and waved over the nearest photographer.
"Mrs. Epstein," the nervous boy greeted. Sam could only thank the Lord it wasn't Finn again, though he was certain the jolly green giant was around somewhere.
"This is Sam, the Ryan Jackson to our magazine and his lovely girlfriend, Rachel Berry," Mrs. Epstein exclaimed with joy as the flashes went off.
"Right," Sam nodded before grabbing Rachel and running towards the exit, ready to get his blonde back.
Being without Sam had only made her realize that she had truly messed up. She knew that his past with Rachel still hurt him. Why had she been so stupid as to ask the source of his pain about him? She groaned and rolled over in her bed before picking up the laptop that was placed beside her.
The small computer whirred to life and within a matter of minutes she was on the internet. Her Facebook had been bland without Sam around. She scrolled through the various wall posts he had left her over the months and sighed. Her profile picture was still one that he had taken of them on the couch together, just simply enjoying each other's company.
Opting to not hurt her already broken heart even more she left the Facebook page and instead went to a shoddy gossip website. She flicked through the various pictures of singers and random people she hadn't a clue who they were before a picture of her own boss was displayed before her. The picture was far off, but sure enough it was Rachel standing in the background, arms linked with some guy.
She continued to scroll down until finally placed before her was a picture of Sam and Rachel in some sort of embrace that looked far too close to be something shared by simple friends. She thought about exiting out of the browser completely and just going to bed but curiosity won out. She continued to scroll down before finding yet another picture of Sam and Rachel-this time with an older woman in tow.
PR mogul Rachel Berry with beau Ryan Jackson and magazine EIC Stella Epstein.
She looked at the caption trying to make sense of it all. She was positive that it was Sam before her with Rachel. The name, however, sounded all too familiar. She racked her brain for several seconds before a panic crept in. She quickly googled the name before a well-known magazine website flooded her screen.
Before she even had a chance to put all of the pieces of the puzzle together a loud booming noise resounded from her front door. She weakly padded her way down the hall and to the main entrance before pulling the door open weakly. "Sam," she gasped upon being met by the one guy she wanted to throw out and pull in closer all at once. His attire was the same from the pictures she had only minutes before been looking at.
"Quinn, I need to talk to you," he rushed out. "Explain some things that you don't know-things you should know." She wrapped her arms around her body as though to shield his words away from her. "I'm so sorry about what happened. I blamed you entirely, but it was me. It was all me," he trailed off into a faint whisper. She refused to meet his eyes though.
"How long have you and Rachel been together?" She could tell the question caught him off-guard. The way his eyebrows arched uncharacteristically high gave his confusion away.
"No, we aren't together," he spat. "My boss, she thought we were together so I had to take her to this event tonight, but we aren't." With that he took a step forward and wrapped his arms loosely around the blonde. "You know that I wouldn't go there with her again-especially not with you in my life," he sent her his signature grin.
"And what else?" She questioned before taking a step away from him. "What else did you need to tell me?" She held her breath and waited for him to say something. A part of her reasoned that if he came clean about everything in that moment then maybe they still had a chance to fix things.
"I found out about what you considered to be our relationship problems, but it wasn't because I was going through all of your stuff trying to find out anything and everything you did. The guy you'd been e-mailing? Ryan?" She watched as Sam smiled lightly before shaking it away. "That was me. That's my other job. I've been doing it for about a year and a half." Despite the fact that she had her ideas about that being the truth it didn't stop the wind from being taken away from her. "It's a sign though, Quinn. We're meant to be together. We even found each other without knowing it was the other person."
"I think you should go," she replied without emotion. She avoided looking at Sam for fear or what his reaction would be. She knew she would cave if she had to see his sorrowful eyes and broken expression.
"Okay, Quinn," was all he said. She couldn't help but be disappointed that he wasn't going to fight for her. "But I'm always going to want more. I think someday you'll see that the universe just thinks that we're supposed to be together." He shrugged his shoulders before pressing a light kiss to her cheek and then turning to leave.
It must have meant something that even with all of the hurt from her past, nothing compared to watching Sam Evans walk away.
Six months had passed without any word from Sam. He had quit his job with Rachel even though she heard he had been offered a promotion. She often wondered if she was the reason behind that but then again she tried to tell herself she didn't care.
Six months had been enough time to properly grieve the loss of her potential soul-mate. It was known that she still thought about him often but not to the point that she had been turned into a recluse. At first she had hard times trying to live her life but within no time she had been able to get back into the swing of things, excluding dating.
She looked herself in the mirror and smiled, approving the girl looking back at her before making her way out of the bathroom and to the hotel lobby. It wasn't often she went to New York. She had been twice before, both in high school.
What should have been a fifteen minute drive ended up being thirty thanks to the lively traffic. She pulled her phone out and glanced at the time, thankful that she had chosen to leave as early as she had.
She paid the driver her fees before easing out of the cab and making her way towards the ticketing booth. Her ticket was eventually handed over to her by the older man after checking to see that her name had been placed on a certain list.
She waltzed inside the building into the lobby and picked up a Playbill before entering the theatre. "Miss, may I escort you to your seat?" Quinn looked at her ticket before handing it over to the elderly woman. "These are very nice. Must have cost a fortune."
"Free actually," Quinn replied with a small smile. "I know girl playing the lead," she added. The elderly woman nodded before escorting her to the proper place.
As Quinn looked around the rapidly filling theater she realized that yes, she did have great seats. She smiled to herself before looking at the stage curtain before her. She pulled her cell phone out of her clutch and sent a quick text to an old boss wishing her luck. Almost instantly she received a response.
You too. :) –R
Her brows furrowed in confusion at whatever the brunette was implying. She decided not to dwell on it as the houselights dimmed. As the opening chords bounce freely off the theatre walls, a commotion at the end of the blonde's aisle snaps her attention away from the stage. A voice, somewhat familiar, is apologizing and trying to explain the reason behind his tardiness. She scoffs at the unprofessionalism behind the man's action and instead turns to face the stage again.
A body is suddenly seated beside her and immediately Quinn's senses go into overload. She knew the smell of the aftershave the man was wearing. Even without looking at the man she knew that he was someone she had known simply based on the way his presence made her feel. She cocked her head to the side in hopes of seeing who the man was. A small gasp escaped her throat causing the man to turn and look at her.
It was the first time in six months that hazel eyes had met that particular shade of green. His hair had grown out a lot, but underneath the mane was definitely Sam Evans. "Quinn?" He whispered, voice hoarse. "Quinn Fabray?"
"What are you doing here?" She snapped, all while hoping the rest of the audience was ignorant to their talks. "Did you know I was going to be here?"
"No," he replied before looking away from her to look at the small girl on stage. Instantly the pieces all fell into place. That damn midget of an ex-boss was the cause of her meeting with Sam again. "I guess you didn't know I was gonna be here either, huh?"
"No, now shut up, Sam," she whispered with a small smile. He turned in his seat and watched the rest of the first act without opening his mouth. She wasn't sure when his hand had found hers but instantly everything in her life clicked into place.
The lights flickered their way back on as intermission began. Without the darkness she was able to see his face clearly. He was still as handsome as ever. If anything he looked even better than before. The youthfulness that he had seemed to lack while they were together had returned. Time away from her had done him well, and that thought made her frown.
"Rachel didn't tell me you were going to be here. We could have flown out together-or at the very least shared a cab on the way here. I had this foreign guy. I couldn't understand a word that he was saying, but I just kind of prayed that when I agreed to everything he said I wasn't offering to be a sacrifice to whatever god he believed in." Quinn giggled and watched as a blush covered his cheeks. "You look nice, Quinn. I've thought about you a lot."
"Well," she attempted to respond but was interrupted by Sam's jabbering.
"I guess I shouldn't have said that. You might be engaged or something now and take complete offense to me telling you that you look nice, but you do." She slapped his shoulder lightly.
"Weren't you the one who believed that the universe wanted us together?" Sam's eyes lit up while his grin threatened to split his face. "I don't think I would be engaged if that were the case."
"So people that are fated to be together-they get to kiss right?" He questioned, hopeful for a positive answer. She rolled her eyes. If she allowed him to kiss her then it was going to be the beginning of what would be another relationship with the crazy boy beside her, a relationship she hoped didn't have an expiration date.
"They do," she replied with a small smile and watched as his lips descended on hers in slow-motion. She eagerly responded to the kiss with fervor. Sam Evans tasted just as remarkable as she had remembered.
Sam Evans tasted like home.