smc_27 (smc_27) wrote,

i guess that's what you do to me

Title: i guess that's what you do to me
Chapter: 1/1
Rating: PG-something. There's cussing.
Character: Sam/Santana
Summary: She does not want to think Sam is cute.
Word Count: 3,600
Disclaimer: Don't own.
A/N: This was written before the last two episodes aired, so please forgive any inconsistencies with canon timeline.


She does not want to think Sam is cute. She doesn't date 'cute' boys. Finn is kind of...Well, he's just Finn, and she didn't date him anyway. She might have wanted to, but that was for like two seconds; just long enough for her to fuck up he and Rachel. Oops? Sorry about that, guys.

Anyway, Sam should not be fucking adorable, considering she can literally feel his abs through his sweater and her shirt, but he kind of is. They're at this party and he's drunk, and he's been close to her all night, because other than Puck and Brittany, she's really the only one he knows.

He and Quinn just broke up and he's kind of fucked up over it, apparently.

She doesn't mention anything about the fact that his hand is sometimes finding skin at her hip where he's holding her to keep steady, or that she can totally feel him hard against her ass.

Even through all this, she's finding him cute.

He's like, adorably clueless. Not in a stupid way either. He just doesn't get how Quinn could be such a bitch and break up with him. Everyone laughs at him (Quinn has always been and will always be a bitch) and he tells them to shut up. Santana leans back against him (okay, he is not small, and she's kind of totally shocked about it; she never would have guessed). He curves his hand around her hip again and murmurs, "Stop that," into her ear in a drunken slur.

... ... ...

Quinn is pissed when she sees pictures from the party and the way Sam was kind of all over Santana. What the fuck ever, though, since Quinn broke up with him. Totally not her place to care, and Sam doesn't have the balls to say that, but Tina points it out and then gets a death glare. Tina's cool and she's totally gotten more comfortable with the popular crowd since she started dating Mike. They're like, sickeningly adorable together.

Sam finds her after glee and walks with her through the snow to her car.

"Hey, sorry about causing problems between you and Quinn," he says. He doesn't even sound embarrassed, which she's kind of surprised about.

She laughs a little. "The only problem between Quinn and I is that she's Quinn." He looks pissed or something. "Whatever. She's a bitch. Forget about her."

He shakes his head, smiles sadly. "Not that easy."

She chuckles again, sees Puck walking to his truck with Rachel fucking Berry. "Puck managed."

He looks over his shoulder and sees what she's seeing, and then he looks at her like he wants to say thank you or something. She's thinking about it on her drive home, and yeah, maybe that was kind of fucking poignant.

... ... ...

He bakes cupcakes.

Seriously, he's a 17 year old boy with a BMI of like, .0000001, and he bakes fucking cupcakes for Valentines Day.

"It's tradition," he says, shrugging his shoulder as the glee club members take cupcakes from the Tupperware container in his hand. "My mom and I do it every year. Only the cool people get one."

Everyone but Santana laughs, and when Quinn comes to get one, Santana hip checks her out of the way.

"You heard him," she snaps.

Sam laughs.

Santana takes Quinn's cupcake and winks at Sam as she licks the icing from her fingers.

"That was kind of mean," he whispers when Schue starts talking about love songs. "And awesome."

She gives him a look from the corner of her eye.

This is just too damn easy.

... ... ...

Beiste benches him and puts Finn in, and she knows Sam takes it harder than he probably would have if Finn hadn't also stolen his girl.

She's in the tunnel that leads to the football field between the third and fourth quarters, 'cause the team's playing like shit and Coach Sylvester shares the same attitude Santana does about cheering for a losing team (there's no point). Sam comes in and throws his helmet as hard as he can onto the ground, and she actually flinches. She must make some noise, because he finally looks at her and she can tell he thought he was alone.

"I'm so sick of everyone getting what I want!" he yells. She's not actually scared of him or anything, but he's kind of acting crazy. "Finn isn't fucking perfect, you know?"

"I know," she says, trying to sound unaffected.

She thinks maybe she and Sam have some things in common. More than just being hot.

"I'm sick of this. I'm just...I'm sick of it."

"You're repeating yourself." He glares at her so hard that her heart drops, but she doesn't change her posture or anything because she does not show weakness, ever. At least she tries not to. Everyone slips up sometimes. "Wanna get out of here?"

She hates that line. She fucking hates that line and she just used it.

"I'll get in shit," he says, sighing and running his hand through his hair. "And won't Sylvester like, stone you?"

She shrugs her shoulder. She kind of doesn't give a fuck. Cheerleading is getting really boring now that she's not head of the squad and Brittany blows her off for Artie all the time.

"Okay," he says after a minute. He grabs his helmet. She can see that he's still pissed. "Give me, like, 10."

She nods and thinks about how her parents aren't home and how even if Sam's a virgin, she's hoping that won't stop what she wants to do with him tonight.

She doesn't know why she likes him even at all. He's more vanilla than any guy she knows. But his body is unreal and he's like, annoyingly cute and nice to everyone. They're probably like oil and water and they'll never work, but she wants to fool around with him, and on the off chance he's actually good, she may want to do it more than once.

She drove with one of the other girls, so she's got her bag over her shoulder and she's leaning against the wall outside the guy's locker room when he comes out. He's wearing jeans and his letterman jacket, and he looks like some kind of Abercrombie model.

God, it's disgusting.

She gives him directions to her house and fucks with his radio until there's something playing worth listening to. She doesn't know what the hell CD he had playing, but she doesn't really do anything with banjo, and he laughs when she tells him that. She's totally not joking. Carrie Underwood is about all the country she can handle.

"Aren't your parents home?" he asks when she fits the key into the lock on her front door.

"No. They're members of the club and one of the little socialites is getting married tomorrow, so there's this thing."

He makes a face like he's confused, takes off his jacket. "Lima has socialites? Wait. Lima has a club?"

She laughs and starts up the stairs, knowing he'll follow her.

She knows her bedroom isn't what people expect. Puck says it's always freaked him out. But now that he's macking Rachel Berry on the regular, she thinks his opinion doesn't really count for anything at all.

Her walls are light grey and her furniture is all dark. Her linens are plum purple and her room is super clean and organized, mostly because her mom has a maid come twice a week and Estelle takes care of everything.

Sam doesn't say anything about the decor, just sits down on her bed and leans back on his elbows. He's watching her and she kind of just wants to straddle him right now.

"I'm gonna change," she says. He nods and she throws the remote at him. It hits the front of his jeans and she laughs when he yelps. "Watch whatever."

She grabs clothes and heads into her bathroom to change. She pulls on her Lululemon pants (she loves these things and practically lives in them when she's at home) and her blue hoodie. She's got just a white tank top underneath, so she still kind of looks sexy, and she pulls her hair from its stupid ponytail. She hates wearing her hair up, so it sucks that she has to do it all the time.

Sam checks her out when she walks back into her room.

They sit on her bed and watch reruns of Golden Girls, and he's such a nerd that it makes her laugh her ass off.

He doesn't even try to kiss her.

... ... ...

"I heard you left the game with Sam," Quinn says before Cheerios practice on Monday. They're in the locker room and Santana is so fucking over all this bullshit. She can't wait to graduate.

"What do you care?"

"Do you have to sleep with everyone?" Quinn hisses, hand on her hip.

Okay, the tried and true way to piss Santana off is to imply that she's a slut. And considering she didn't sleep with him and has really only slept with like, three guys ever, Quinn needs to shut her fucking mouth.

"Watch it, Cankles," Santana says. She doesn't want to fight Quinn, but everyone (and they're watching) knows she will.

"I guess you like picking up everyone else's pieces."

It doesn't make any sense at all, but Santana knows what Quinn means and she doesn't like it one fucking bit. First of all, she and Puck were together when Quinn fucked him, and she hadn't been with Finn for a couple months when Santana slept with him. She and Sam aren't even anything at this point.

"Go fuck yourself, Quinn," Santana says, slamming her locker closed. "You call me a slut, but you know what? I'm still not the one who had a baby and gave it away." Quinn looks hurt. No one talks about that. It's fucking ridiculous, but it's like it never happened, and it pisses Satnana off. "I'm not the one who's cheated on both her boyfriends. Cut the high and mighty act." She looks Quinn up and down. "Slut."

She doesn't expect Quinn to jump at her when she turns her back but that's what happens, and the next thing she knows she's got a split lip and she's sitting in Miss Pillsbury's office because that's where Figgins told her to go.

"Santana, we should talk about your self image."

"I'm sorry, what?" Santana pulls the bag of ice away from her lip so she can give a proper WTF face. "My self image?"

Miss Pillsbury nods and does that fake little smile thing. "I want to know what it is about yourself that makes you think sex is..."

Santana stands up and hates that her throat is tightening because of all this bullshit.

"I don't need this," she says instead. Miss Pillsbury looks mortified, even though Santana hasn't fucking said anything. "There are so many kids at this school way more messed up than me, okay? I'm like, the most normal one here!"


She slams the door hard on her way out, because fuck Quinn, and fuck Miss Pillsbury, and fuck this entire day.

She ignores Rachel on her way out of the school asking what's wrong, because she's about to start crying or something stupid, and she doesn't need to give anyone any more ammunition against her.

... ... ...

Her mom calls upstairs to her after dinner and says someone's here to see her and they're coming up. If it's Quinn, she's going to be pissed. Actually, she knows it's not Quinn, because of course the school called Santana's parents and they know about the whole fight (the second fight this year) and her mom has never liked Quinn anyway, even before the whole pregnancy thing. She says Quinn's family are terrible examples of Christianity, and even though Santana's family is Catholic, apparently that offends her mom. Whatever. All she knows is that her mom wouldn't send Quinn upstairs. Actually, she probably wouldn't even let the girl into the house.

Sam pokes his stupid blonde head into the room and smiles, then he walks in, and she's glad she's got her blankets over her, 'cause she's kind of wearing just a cotton sleep shirt and a pair of panties. She wasn't exactly expecting company.

"Nice lip," he says as he sits down next to her. She should fix the collar of her shirt since her boob is very close to popping out, but then he looks and she doesn't want to interrupt him.

"Nice hair."

He laughs and shakes his head to mess up his style. "How are you feeling?"

"Did you see Quinn's eye?"

He laughs quietly. "It's disgusting."

"Then I feel great," she says, grinning at him. She sinks back against the pillows and fixes her shirt. "What do you want?"

"Sphere is on Discovery. Wanna watch?"

"No," she answers bluntly.

He pulls back the covers and climbs into her bed. Her shirt is just barely hitting the tops of her thighs, and she doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, honestly, but she doesn't totally want him to leave.

"You pick, then," he says as he gets comfortable. Apparently comfortable for him means putting his arm around her and trying to pull her close.

"What are you doing?" she asks, giving him a look.

He shrugs. "Your bed's small."

"It's a queen."

"Whatever," he laughs. "I'm trying to run a little game."

She laughs so hard her stomach hurts and she ends up leaning forward so she can try to breathe. It's kind of adorable, how he runs his hand up and down her back and he's smiling at her when she looks at him. "No one says 'run game'. Who the hell are you?"

"Shut up," he chuckles. "I just don't want you to like, ignore me just because Quinn decided to be a bitch."

"Quinn doesn't decide to be a bitch, Sam, she just is one."

She leans back against the pillows and his arm again. His hand is kind of on her side and his fingertips run over the elastic of her boyshorts. She doesn't care, but she thinks he's feeling like it's a pretty big deal.

She tries to take a sip of her Diet Coke, but her fucking lip is killing her, so she lets out this noise and he looks at her worriedly. He's annoyingly nice.

"This show sucks," he tells her.

She punches him on the leg. "I've watched it since I was like, 10, so shut up."

"Who is this guy?"

"Nathan. He's a basketball player." Sam doesn't look impressed. "Whatever, it's better than Spear."



"Why are you so mean to me?" He's kind of laughing, but he kind of sounds like he wants the truth. The only logical thing she can think to do is to run her hand over the front of his jeans, so that's what she does. "Oh, hey. Whoa."

"Sam," she laughs. She turns a little so her knee is resting against his thigh and she can massage him more easily through his pants. "I'm nice to you."

"Yeah." He sounds like he really, really wants it.

Then he puts his hand over hers and stops her.

"What?" she asks. She's trying not to be offended, but it'd be nice if she could get like, one thing she wants today.

He laughs quietly and pushes her hair away from her face with his hand. "I haven't even kissed you yet."

"So? All you did was kiss Quinn and look where that got you."


There's something about the way he says her name that makes her a little insane.

"Whatever. So kiss me, then," she says. It seems like the easiest solution to his little dilemma, if you ask her. But he doesn't just go for it and she's annoyed. "What?"

"Don't you want a little romance?" he asks, smiling at her.

Honestly, no. What she wants is to get him off and hope that maybe he'll return the favour. On the off chance that he actually knows what he's doing, which frankly is not likely.

"I can like, dim the lights or something," she says.

He laughs and shakes his head, and she's kind of pissed that he's being like this, so she's about to get up and tell him to leave. He puts his hand on her cheek, though, kisses her somewhere between hard and soft (but definitely desperate) and takes a deep breath when their lips are connected. She puts her hand on his stomach (fuck, so hot) and he grabs her arm and pulls her closer. She ends up straddling his lap and the way he sucks in a breath probably means he never got Quinn to do this.

She's going to stop thinking about Quinn.

Her hair kind of falls in their faces, and he's smiling as he pushes it away. She realizes there's only her panties and his jeans between them, since her shirt is pushed up to her hips.

"How's your lip?" he asks.

It takes her a second to realize what he's talking about.

She leans in and kisses him again, pushes her hand up under his shirt and says, "You tell me."

She doesn't get an answer, really, but he doesn't stop kissing her, so whatever. Same thing.

... ... ...

The whole school still thinks she fucked him, which is really stupid, especially since all she's done is make out with him. Last night he kept grabbing her hand when she'd try to touch him, and it eventually started making him laugh. She would have asked if he's gay or something, but she knows he was hard as hell for her and it wasn't the first time. She thinks he's a virgin, but she didn't ask.

He and Puck stroll into the choir room together, and Santana thinks it's almost cute, the way Rachel's face lights up when Puck goes to sit beside her and puts his arm around the back of her chair as he slouches in his own.

Sam walks over and sits next to her. His cheeks are a little pink and fuck. This cute thing...She needs to stop thinking people are cute.

"Hey," he says. He won't look at her.

"Oh, my god. Are you 12?" she laughs. He looks at her then and she shakes her head. "What's your problem?"

He shrugs his shoulder. "I just don't want you to say last night was like, one time only," he says quietly, making sure no one else hears.

Yeah, 'cause whispering in her ear is way more subtle.

"Give me a ride home and you can find out."

... ... ...

So, he's a virgin, but he's basically done everything but have sex. And either he's a natural or he's done a lot of it, because when she pushes his hand up her thigh and under her skirt, he doesn't hesitate at all and he actually gets her off way faster than he should be able to. She's kind of relieved, to be honest.

"Be my girlfriend," he says against her cheek in glee one day. It's the first thing they've done that even comes close to PDA.

She doesn't answer him at all or even take her eyes off Mr. Schue, but she slips her hand into his and he weaves their fingers together.

Tina calls them a cute couple and Santana pretends that makes her want to puke, but Sam squeezes her hand, and if he can see through her this easily, she's probably in way more trouble than she wants to admit.


Tags: character: sam evans, character: santana lopez, fanfic: sam/santana

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  • baby, let's just light the fire

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  • sometimes i wished i lived in a snow globe

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