Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't glee. If did, I would make Amber Riley wear a black corset, with black jeans in every scene that she's in. She was flawless a Perez's birthday party. Just putting that out into the universe.

Carry Me Home

maybe we could find new ways to fall apart

But our friends are back

So let's raise a toast

'Cause I found someone to carry me home

-"We Are Young" Fun. feat. Janelle Monae

Chapter 6 – If It Ain't Broke

There were a few benefits to banging nearly every guy in McKinley—firstly it made Santana Lopez fearless. There was nothing in the boy's locker room to scare her off. She'd been there done, done that and wrote the damn book that half the Cheerios used to get their air-headed boyfriends off. Secondly, her reputation garnered her the ability to trash talk and defame anyone she pleased, an easy access to getting someone's undivided attention—which was handy when she barged in on a group of guys changing from Phys. Ed.

"Jesus Christ Santana"


"Dude, there's a vagina in here!"

"Glad to see that your eyes are working, Rick," Santana snapped. "Now all of you put your panties back on. I'm into girls, geniuses. That means that there's very little of interest for me in here—every pun intended."

"So, um, what is it exactly that you want?" Rory asked timidly, clinging to the small white towel around his waist. The only one who didn't look like a virgin fearfully protecting their virtue was Puck. He would have just dropped the towel and strode around proud and free…if he hadn't been certain that Santana would come back around later for his balls.

"Where's Sam?" she demanded.

A wet mop of blonde hair peered around the cinderblock walls that led to the shower stalls.

"Outside. Now." Santana growled before making her exit.

Throwing on a pair of basketball shorts and a worn red tee, Sam raced to follow his ex while trying to stifle his own anxiety. She led him to an empty classroom and once he closed the door behind him, Santana slapped him across the back of his head.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Santana replied. "What part of 'don't tell Quinn' is difficult for that brain of yours to process?"

"I don't know what you're talking—"

"At the hospital, Sammy. After we agreed that you were full of shit, we also agreed that Quinn didn't need to know anything about Rachel possibly have a lady boner for her."


Sam briefly contemplated lying to her. It hadn't technically been his fault, but as Sam shifted slowly, his body racked with tension, Santana's suspicions were confirmed.

"What the hell did you tell her," Santana asked coolly.

"She picked up on most of it," Sam gave in. "She knew that you were hiding something from her, something about Rachel. I didn't really say anything; she figured it out on her own and flipped out. I just…confirmed what she already knew."

"And what, lying is suddenly above you? Jesus Sam! You need to fix this, because while you were lusting for Mercedes yesterday, sour-face Quinn was left sending pitiful one-sided eye sex Rachel Berry's way."

"I'll talk to her," Sam promised.

"And not screw it up even more?"

"It was my mistake, I'll fix it Santana."

"I hope you know what you're doing because Quinn is dealing with enough bullshit. And if this turns into some more Glee drama—drama that Mercedes finds out about , you have to kiss those daydreams of kinky haired green eyed babies goodbye."

"I got it, Santana," Sam snapped.

In after school Glee club rehearsal, Sam could feel Santana's glare on his back. He stuck by Mike's side trying to focus on the sheet music in front of him. They were cycling through their options for a group number at Nationals. Rachel dominated most of the conversation with Kurt adding in occasional pointers. Mercedes stood on the other side of the room, splitting her attention between the music and Tina, who blatantly ignored the rehearsal as she fervently argued with her friend. Quinn's mother had come to pick her up once school ended for a doctor's appointment, but otherwise everyone else in New Directions was here.


Rachel's shrill voice cut through Sam's haze and he could feel Santana's gaze intensify—it also didn't help that he once again had the attention of everyone in New Directions.

"We need more of the tenor voice in that last run," Mr. Schue instructed, shooting him a concerned look. Sam nodded, internally pleading for the man to continue with the music. Mr. Schue relented his gaze when Rachel cut in rambling about something else that she would probably repeat for the rest of the semester. But in that moment, Sam had never before been more thankful for her affinity to talk.

Rachel Berry's love of talking also made her the last person to leave the choir room, discussing other possible numbers with Mr. Schue. Finn left before rehearsal was over—he had a conference with one of his teachers. Kurt and Blaine dipped the minute they were released and frankly Sam didn't want to think about where they were off to. They looked much too pleased with themselves. So with Quinn gone and none of her close friends to distract her, Sam decided to linger back for his brunette friend. Santana didn't look too pleased but followed Mercedes out—along with Brittany and Sugar the four girls were wrapped in planning their TroubleTone number.

"Sam," Rachel smiled brightly upon realizing that he was lingering behind. "Are you here for Mr. Schue or…"

"You actually."

"Oh." Her smile faltered slightly, but Rachel wrapped up her conversation with Mr. Schue and took a seat next to him.

"So, what can I do for you Sam?"

"Quinn seemed pretty upset yesterday," Sam began.

Rachel stiffened in the creaky chair and flattened the pleats of her skirt. "Well, there could be several reasons for that. You'd be better off talking to Mercedes or Santana. They spend the most time with her. I'm sure it can't be easy to—"

"Rachel, be honest. I think you know why Quinn was upset."

"Actually, I don't," Rachel snapped, rising to her feet. "I haven't done anything to Quinn."

"No, you're just ignoring her."

"I'm not ignoring her. I've just been...busy. I have my obligations to my family. To Finn. To New Directions—"

"And what about your obligations to Rachel," Sam pressed. "What about the part of you that's…confused."

"There is no part of me that's confused," Rachel replied stiffly. "I couldn't be happier as Finn's wife."

"And two weeks ago?"

"Two weeks ago…I was over emotional due to my grief. But Quinn's recovery has lifted a heavy load from my shoulders and now…now there's nothing else for me to worry over."

"Rachel, you said that she—"

"Her infatuation with me is flattering but ultimately will not be reciprocated," she insisted gathering her things and heading out. "I trust you to pass that along to her."

"Tell her yourself," Sam challenged. "You turn her down yourself Rachel Berry. Don't send me or anyone else for that matter to do it. If you want to ignore the truth, that's one thing, but don't act like you're so above it all that you can send lap dogs to do your dirty work."

She froze at the door, but quickly pulled herself together and turned back to glare at Sam."You know frankly, Sam, I used to think you were a kind and understanding individual, but right now I don't think you can even fathom to understand half of the pressure that I'm under as...as an aspiring musical theater student."

"I'm not saying you have to leave Finn and run off into fields to forlick around with Quinn-"

"Then what, is it exactly, that you want Sam!"

"I want you to talk to her."

"Fine," Rachel huffed, stalking out. "I will."

When Sam managed to drag himself from the choir room, and through the empty halls that led to the student parking lot, he spotted a bubbly Mercedes at her locker accompanied by a tall male stranger.


The deep throated voice turned to him and Sam could see Anthony Rashad pulling from Mercy's locker to meet him. Anthony had graduated the year before and had been a cool guy in Sam's book last year, showing him the ropes after Sam replaced Finn on the football team. The kid always wore a sly smile, which in this particular moment Sam wanted to knock right off his face.

Sam greeted him kindly enough, but his tight grin sent a bitter charge between them.

"So, synchronized swimming, huh?" Anthony teased. "Tell me there are at least some nice visual benefits running around the pool."

"None worth mentioning," Sam shrugged. Mercedes had yet to greet him, and Sam would be damned if he was going to be ignored. "I've got my eyes set on a higher prize."

She stopped trifling with the books in her locker at that, but made no further notion to join them.

"Oh really?" Anthony smiled. "Well then, you should get your girl and double with me some time. Or even better triple, once I get Mercy here back with her man."

"Her man?" Sam deadpanned.

"That's enough Anthony," Mercedes snapped shutting her locker. "Now unless you want to walk home…"

"I hear you, doll face," Anthony replied cutting off her empty threat. "I'll catch you later Sam. Hit me up sometime, man."

The older teen slung an arm over Mercedes shoulder as they turned and headed for the exit, leaving Sam stranded in his frustration.

"Hey Rashad!" Sam called after them. "I thought you were in Chicago for school?"

"Spring break, fool!" came the reply. "And don't forget to call me, punk! You owe me a round in Madden and I want to hook you up with my boy Tinsely."

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Sam muttered watching Mercedes walk away from him—again.

On the other side of town, parked in front of a row of tasteful homes, Rachel Berry found herself starring intently at the dashboard of her father's Prius. She prided herself in being a very driven and independent individual. She didn't need anyone to tell her where to go, what to do, how to act or who…who to love. And she loved Finn Hudson, of that she was absolutely sure. Quinn was just a distraction. It was pity and remorse that drove her affection for Quinn. Ever since sophomore year, when she blabbed to Finn about the pregnancy, Rachel has simply pitied Quinn Fabray. But pity isn't love. Pity is—


She nearly hit the roof of the small green car upon hearing her name. Mrs. Jones appeared at her window, worry etched on her face. Rachel was after all, parked in the woman's driveway.

"Are you waiting for Mercedes or Quinn?" she asked politely.

"Wha—no…no. I was on my way to Westerville and…I-I must have taken the wrong turn."

"Westerville?" Mrs. Jones repeated.

"To meet Kurt," Rachel explained. "The W-Warbles invited Blaine to sing with them and—he and , Kurt…we were going…going to watch the performance."

"Ah, I see," Mrs. Jones smiled kindly. "Well, it's shame that you have to go. Quinn should be getting back from the doctor's soon—unless you want to stay…"

"No, no," Rachel objected. "I-I should go. Don't want to be late."

"Of course, and Mrs. Hudson,"


"I just wanted to say congratulations. I wish you and Finn the best," she smiled politely.

"O-oh. Thank you Mrs. Jones."

Rachel turned the key and pulled out onto the main road. As she turned to exit the block, a white mini-van passed by. Quinn could be seen in the passenger seat, her mother at the wheel. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments before Rachel hit the gas.

It's been awhile and this update turned out shorter than I intended so for that I'm sorry, but next update will be longer and should come a bit faster. Thank you as always for reading and please don't forget to review!

Much Love,

Santiva Potter