TITLE: You Come Along
DISCLAIMER: Glee doesn't belong to me. Fox and Ryan Murphy. Not me at all.
CHARACTERS/PAIRING(S): Sam, Blaine, Sam/Quinn, Sam/Finn implied, and Karofsky confusion!
RATING: PG
NOTES: This just came to me randomly. It takes place during episode six of season 2, "Never Been Kissed," and changes just one minor detail, which you'll see in the story. Also, my first Glee fanfic, so I am rather nervous for this! I wrote this a month or so ago, and decided to continue it. Should it be Sam/Finn or Sam/Blaine as a pairing? I can't decide. Originally, it was going to be with Blaine, but now I can't decide. Thoughts? And the title comes from the song "You Come Along" by Mark Rose, who is absolutely amazing.

Sam stood in front of the mirror, exhaling slowly. His eyes were bloodshot. He hadn't gotten more than an hour of sleep. He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know what he was saying. But last night, when he should've been picturing Bieste in the middle of making out with Quinn, it had warped into Finn. Quinn had crawled off him in a flat two seconds, demanding to know why he was thinking about her ex boyfriend. SAYING HIS NAME. Sam had just helplessly shrugged. What could he say?

"Oh, by the way, Quinn, I kinda like guys, too? But I'm all over you, really!"

Sam sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. He honestly didn't like Finn that much. Not like THAT, anyway. They were friends. Buds. And though he didn't approve of his methods, he was glad Finn was watching his back. But he didn't need it. He had liked Kurt the few minutes they'd spoken. It was fleeting, but it was nice to know someone (kind of) like him. No one knew. Here, at least. A few guys from the boarding school had known, but other than that... well...

"Quinn, I think we need to break up."

God, what was he thinking? He couldn't break up with her. He didn't love her, he knew he didn't. He also knew she was using him just because he was on the football team. And alright, maybe at first he'd started out with her for the same reasons. Head Cheerio, most beautiful girl in the school... But he'd never lied to her. He did like her. He WAS attracted to her. She was... well, sort of amazing, really. They had fun while out on dates. They talked a lot. He told her about the boarding school and the boring details of his life prior to Lima. She talked about Beth and Puck, and how much it hurt they were basically like best friends. That made out and went out. It was the best of both worlds for them right now. And it was good. Okay. Comfortable. But that warped ten second fantasy? About Finn? Had been more than 'okay.' It had been more of a... 'oh my god, this is amazing' kind of deal.

And it was wrong. So very, very wrong.

"Maybe we should take a break."

Sam tightened his grip on his letterman jacket, mournfully staring at the ground.

That sounded so lame.

"I might have feelings for a guy. I want to..." he blanched. "...kiss him. I don't know what that means. God, so stupid," Sam muttered, letting out a strangled half scream, hands gripping the sink. He'd never actually... fantasized about a guy before. He'd basically just been... open to the idea. Not afraid of it. Kissed a guy once, mostly on a dare, and that had been the start of 'okay, I can handle this, even though I won't ever do it.'

And... that had pretty much been the end to that. Or so he thought. He stared down at the ground, sucking in a deep breath.

"I had a fantasy about a guy, but I like you, Quinn. It didn't mean anything, and-"

The sound of a throat clearing made Sam spin around. Color drained from his face when he realized the owner of the voice had heard him say that. No one was supposed to know. He didn't want anyone to know about this. Only Quinn could know. And that was only because she'd already knew. By fluke. Total accident. He finally settled his gaze on the person in the bathroom. It was a guy in a mostly unfamiliar school uniform. He vaguely recognized it. Some rich boarding school in town. His parents had looked at it first when they'd moved here, but it had been a little too pricey. Way out of their new lower budget. Sam didn't mind McKinley, for the most part. Except the way students treated others. What was up with that? It was so horrible. And the food sucked. Thank god Sam mostly ate healthy rabbit food.

"I couldn't help but overhear you," the stranger started. Sam could hear the uncertain tone in his voice.

Sam scowled at the admission. He was afraid of that.

"No one can know," he said, annoyed. It scared the crap out of him. He especially didn't want some stranger he didn't know knowing about it.

"It's okay, you know," the person continued, like Sam hadn't said a word. "What you're feeling? It's natural."

"I know it's natural," Sam said, confused. He squinted at the guy. He was taller than him, and lanky. Short hair. He was a brunette. He was attractive. Sam hated the fact he actually thought that.

"I'm gay, you know," the boy said. Sam completely stilled at the words.

What was this? He was thinking gay thoughts so that means someone had to arrange for an after school special for him?

"Um, I'm glad?" Sam offered, hesitantly. He had no idea who this guy was. Or why he was talking to him. Or why he was telling him that he was gay. Is that what they meant by 'gaydar?'

"So..." the guy trailed off, and offered his hand. "I'm Blaine."

"Ah," Sam stared at the guy's Blaine's hand, taking it. "I'm Sam."

"Sam's a nice name," Blaine said. "Normal. Stable."

"Mostly it's boring," Sam said, shrugging. He was beyond confused at this point, but he was trying to go with it.

"Boring is... just okay, you know. Stable. Normal, I think you're better than that, Sam."

"I don't even know what you're talking about," Sam said, the frustration clearly heard in his voice. "What is this? Some gay intervention?"

"You kissed him and ran! You made his life miserable, Sam! What you did sucked. I know you're scared. You've probably been scared for years. It's why you lashed out on him for so long."

Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe this was his punishment for thinking Finn was hot. Maybe this was the punishment for hurting Quinn. He hadn't meant to. But it was happening, and Sam had never been this freaked out before. He swallowed before speaking.

"I haven't kissed ANYONE," Sam said, confused. His voice raising just the slightest bit. Panicking now at this. Especially at what Blaine was implying. "I was making out with my girlfriend yesterday and I'd said a guy's name in a crucial moment. I've never touched a guy except once in a game of truth or dare two years ago."

The look Blaine gave him was confusing.

"You're not Karofsky?" he asked.

"Um." Sam had to laugh at that. "No. That guy is a complete asshole. I'd like to think I'm not. Well, now I am probably, but I wasn't before. I don't slushy or dumpster toss anyone. Not like that jerk and his friends do. Plus, I play football. He's on the hockey team."

Blaine looked suddenly very embarrassed. "Sorry. I was... helping a friend deal with an issue... with... him..."

"Why would you think I was him?"

"The jacket," Blaine explained. "All I knew was his last name and he was a jock. A 'neanderthal,' to be exact."

"'A neanderthal?'" Sam repeated. His eyes lit up. He knew who said that, and then his eyes lowered. "Is Kurt alright?" he asked, concerned. They were barely friends, but that didn't mean that he wanted something to happen to him.

"Not my place to say more than I have," Blaine sighed. His voice sounded regretful. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. Or confuse you. Or accuse you of anything. I'm sure you are a very nice guy."

"It's alright, dude," Sam shrugged. If all he knew was a last name and that he was a jock, and hearing those words that Sam had been muttering, Sam might have jumped to the same conclusions.

Taking a piece of scrap paper from his pocket, Blaine scrawled a number on it with a pen from the same pocket, handing it to Sam.

"But here. If you ever need to talk. I'm a good listener. And I promise I won't throw any weird accusations at you again."

Sam took the number from him, smiling slightly. "Thanks. Maybe I'll take you up on that sometime." Because if he ever had another conversation like that, he was going to need it.

He watched Blaine leave, exhaling slowly. Maybe he should go talk to Quinn now. It was probably going to be ten times easier than anything Dave Karofsky was going to be facing.