Work Text:
my, my love had been frozen
deep blue, but you painted me golden
“C’mon Quinn, throw me a bone here!” Sam groans, exasperated as he flicks his king down yet again. “You win every time!”
“I told you we should play something else!” Quinn laughs, rolling her eyes. “You’re the one who insisted we play again.”
Sighing, Sam collects his discarded pieces, reminders of his quick defeat. “Right, but as my girlfriend, you should’ve seen I was in over my head and put me out of my misery.”
They’ve been “official” for three weeks now, but her breath still catches when she hears him call her that. Girlfriend . It takes her back to when Sam was down on his knee in the astronomy room earlier that week, promise ring in hand.
“I promise to make you proud, whenever you look down the hallway and say, ‘that’s my boyfriend.’”
She racks her brain for a second, and realizes that she hasn’t actually referred to him as her boyfriend. Not even to Brittany and Santana, who must ask her about it at least once a day. Not even playfully, as Sam just did for her.
It’s strange, being with someone who isn’t Finn. There was a time not too long ago that she honestly thought they’d end up together. The quarterback and the head cheerleader, an absolute fairytale. She knows it’s silly now, but when they broke up, there was a part of her that shut down and never quite recovered.
And even moreso, it’s strange being with someone so vulnerable about the way they feel, and Quinn wonders how Sam could be so… sure of himself, especially when doing a nerdy impression or expressing his feelings.
“I want to marry you. Someday.”
It’s not that Quinn doesn’t know how she feels. She felt an inkling of it the very first time they practiced their duet.
“I know this feeling, lo--. Like I need you.”
That feeling has only grown since then. She just doesn’t know how to say it anymore. She refuses to go back to the silly girl who thought she could find her happy ending at fifteen.
“So, how’d you get so good at chess anyway?” Sam asks, bringing her back to the present.
She chews on her lip for a moment, wondering if she should tell him that her dad taught her to play. He was a champion chess player back in the day and wanted his two daughters to be able to, “hang with the boys,” as much as possible.
But Russell’s still a sore subject for her -- and she’d rather not disturb the delicate balance she and Sam have built so far. So she shrugs, and sticks with a nonchalant, “I’m full of mysteries.”
Sam gives her a small smile. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. I, uh, kinda wish you’d open up to me about some of them.” Quinn tenses up, lips pursing as she struggles for a way to respond.
Sam doesn’t push on the subject when he sees her reaction. Instead, he changes the conversation with a bright, “So I think I’m officially over getting my ass kicked. What are we doing next?”
+
They settle on a movie -- Oceans Eleven , since Quinn’s never seen it, and the reaction Sam gives her is about the one she expects.
“Oh my God, Quinn, you’ve never seen Oceans ?”
Quinn’s head is resting on Sam’s shoulder, and she gives her regular, “Hms,” and “Ohs,” as Sam eagerly shares all the behind-the-scenes knowledge he’s gathered from watching the DVD extras a million times (Quinn’s pretty much given up on ever quietly watching a movie with him).
“Did you know George Clooney paid Julia Roberts $20 to get her to read the script?”
And normally, Quinn would find his encyclopedic knowledge endearing. But she can’t stop thinking about what he said earlier.
“I kinda wish you’d open up to me about some of them.”
It’s a motif that plays back in every relationship she’s ever had, even before Finn. Quinn not giving enough to the other person.
“You’re so closed off.”
“Are you even sad that we’re breaking up?”
“Don’t you feel anything?”
It’s a hard pill to swallow for Quinn, that her inability to be vulnerable is the reason why her relationships fail, over and over again.
She wonders how long it’ll take for this one to fail.
The movie ends when Quinn realizes Sam hasn’t really spoken for the last twenty minutes. She lifts her head off her shoulder to find him already looking at her with a worried look on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“You just seemed really distant during the movie,” he starts, moving his arm from around her shoulder, making himself smaller. “And honestly, Quinn, it isn't just now.”
Frustration takes over his face, as he pushes his lemon-dyed hair out of his eyes. “I don’t, ugh, I don’t ever want to pressure you, Quinn. But we’ve been dating a month now, and I feel like you don’t really ever share anything with me. And I just want you to know I’m here for you… but I can only do that if you want me to be.”
Quinn shifts away from him. She knows what that means. She’s heard it many times before, not always in those words. It means,
“I’m patient, but there will be a limit to this.”
It means,
“I understand, but I can’t wait forever.”
She instead looks to the fireplace under the TV, where a few school photos of her and Franny are spaced along the place where framed photos of her perfect little family used to be. A subtle change to those who aren’t paying attention, but an absolute gut punch reminder for Quinn of what happens to relationships when people refuse to be vulnerable.
“I’m here for you… but I can only do that if you want me to be.”
And she decides in that moment, she wants him to be.
Slowly, she lets out, “My dad,” and turns her head back to meet his eyes. “My dad taught me how to play chess.”
Sam’s confusion is written all over his face, but he humors her. “Oh. I’ve never met your dad.”
“He’s not really around anymore. I haven’t seen him since I told him I was pregnant.” She swallows the lump forming in her throat before continuing. “And I know this sounds backwards, but Sam, he was… uh. He was a really good dad before that.”
+
When the night’s done, Quinn’s admitted a lot of things to Sam that she hadn’t expected to. Things like,
“I miss my dad.”
“Sometimes I wonder if Finn and I would still be together if I told him stuff like this.”
“I still pray for Beth every night.”
In response, Sam wipes the few tears that manage to escape, holds her close, and says sweet things like, “I can’t imagine,” “I totally get it,” and “I’ll pray for her too.”
He doesn’t let go until Quinn’s heart rate has slowed down and her breathing has returned to normal. And even when he does, he still keeps one of her hands in his, bringing the other to lift her chin up to look at him.
“Listen Quinn, I--” It’s loud, the sound that interrupts him coming from his phone. “Jeez, sorry. One second.”
When he answers, Quinn can hear Mrs. Evans on the other end of the line. She taps her phone to show the time. 10:45. Shit, and turns her attention back to him soon enough to hear Sam being reprimanded with, “As lovely as Quinn is, it’s still a school night Sam Evans!”
They hurry to get his things together, trying to minimize the wrath he’ll face from his strict, southern mother when he gets home, and within 60 seconds he has his backpack on, and Quinn’s walking him to the door. Sam never lets her walk him past the front door, always insisting she say goodbye from the comfort of her foyer.
“A gentleman also always makes sure the lady never walks him past her front door.”
She’s pretty sure that’s not a real thing, but he was so sure when he first said it that she laughed and let him have his way.
He holds her hand until the very last moment, turning around to place a sweet kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, Quinn. I know that couldn’t have been easy for you. And I’m proud of you.”
She shakes her head. It’s ridiculous that he would thank her for the evening, when it should be the other way around. But she’s unable to come up with a good enough way to thank him in the moment, so instead, she gently orders, “Go home, Sam. Your mom’s waiting for you.”
He gives her a salute and a, “Yes ma’am,” and turns to head out the door.
+
She’s drifting off to sleep when she thinks of a way to say it, but she doesn’t want to forget it in the morning, so she reaches for her phone, squinting when the light hits her face.
She hopes it’s not too late when she shoots him a message.
sam
Make it home okay?
yeah! thanks for checking
miss u already
Glad to hear your mom didn’t kill you ;)
Got a quick second for a FaceTime?
knew u couldn’t get enough of me
one sec, gonna stick some towels under my door so my parents don’t hear
There’s a minute wait until she sees the call come through. Hitting the green button, she’s greeted by a wet-haired Sam, face red from a hot shower, and toothpaste building up at the corners of his mouth as he brushes.
“W’assp?”
“What was that? I couldn’t quite understand you, what with the rabies bubbles coming out of your mouth.”
He offers a grin, making a “one second,” motion with his finger, and hurrying to finish his nightly routine.
Teasing, Quinn says, “You know, I could’ve waited until after you were ready for bed.”
“How could I deprive my girlfriend, who so clearly needed to see me even though we just spent all day together?”
She laughs, knowing he has a point there. “So considerate, I’m so lucky.” Quinn’s playing with a strand of her hair, trying to find an opening for what she wants to say.
And luckily, Sam provides it as he makes his way to his bed, dramatically falling down on it, knowing it makes her laugh. Even if she rolls her eyes at him.
“You know I love it when you want to call, but it sounded like there was a reason… you okay? Need me to come back over?”
“I’m fine, I just--”
But Sam’s in protective boyfriend mode already, and he continues with, “My mom’s probably asleep now, I could probably sneak back out.” He pushes himself back off his bed, and Quinn knows she has to stop him before he actually gets in his car and drives back here.
“Sam, stop! Just listen.” She waits for him to settle back in his bed. “I just didn’t get a chance to say thank you earlier. So thank you, and I’m sorry about pushing you away before.” He’s about to interrupt her, but she stops him with, “And don’t say it’s okay, because it’s not. It wasn’t fair to you, I know that. I want you to know that I’m going to try harder. I want to try with you.”
“I know. You don’t have to keep saying thank you, Quinn.”
“Just one more thing,” she insists. “And then I’ll let you go to bed.”
“Ugh, finally! I need to get my beauty sleep.” He nods at her, giving her the all clear to continue.
Quinn takes a deep breath, and finally, “I’m really… really proud that you’re my boyfriend.”
+
Burt & Carole’s wedding comes and goes, and Quinn’s finally ready to wear the promise ring that Sam gave her. It’s small, but she feels the weight of her choice all the same.
“Quinn!” Brittany calls out to her, walking towards her and dragging Santana along. “What’s that on your finger?”
Santana grabs her hand, bringing it up to examine the ring. “Damn! It’s definitely a real diamond. I owe Brittany a twenty.”
“Is it from Sam?”
Quinn smiles, a little embarrassed by Santana’s scrutinizing as she takes her hand away. “Yes, it’s real. And yes, it’s a promise ring from Sam. Can we start walking now? We’re gonna be late for Glee.”
Britt and Santana keep asking her questions about the ring all the way into the choir room, and unfortunately for Quinn, they’re the first three people in there, so the questions keep coming. She answers them, knowing she’d be doing the same if one of them started wearing a ring out of nowhere.
“How many carats is it?”
“I don’t know, Brittany.”
“Did he sell a kidney to buy it? No way Trouty affords any ring on his own.”
“Shut up, Santana!”
“Oh wait!” Brittany says, as if she’s suddenly remembering something. “Quinn are you guys official? You’ve never really answered our questions about it before.”
“You have been kind of weird about it,” Santana confirms. “And you’re wearing a ring so...?” Santana has the decency to lower her voice as the rest of the Glee club starts filtering in. She can be surprisingly considerate when she feels like it.
As if by design, Sam walks in at that moment with Mike and Puck, charming them with his impression of James Earl Jones.
"Such a nerd," Santana scoffs, rolling her eyes. Before, Quinn might've blushed and ignored Santana's comment. But Quinn remembers what she said to Sam that night she decided to let him in.
“I’m really, really proud that you’re my boyfriend.”
And she meant it. So Quinn laughs and nods in agreement before finally answering their question, proudly, and without reservation. "Yeah. That's my boyfriend."