A/N: Prompt from apathyempathy, who provided Samchelpez and the first paragraph. Thanks!

 *

Sam felt guilty the instant his eyes lingered on Santana as she bent down to pick up her fallen textbook. He felt guilty, that is, until he caught Rachel doing the very same thing without the slightest hint of regret. If anything… He studied his girlfriend… She looked a little proud.

So he caught her before she left the choir room. “Hey,” he whispered, brushing his lips along her ear, “There something you want to tell me?”

“Sam…” Rachel smiled, a hand coming up to thread through the hair at his nape, pushing up on her tiptoes to reciprocate the kiss to her ear, “I’ve already told you that I’m planning on clearing my weekend to better spend it with you.” Moving her lips along his jaw, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders when he kissed her hungrily.

“Okay,” Sam nodded, “No, I’m very happy to hear that.” He smiled, hands curling around her hips, “I just… Don’t hate me?”

Her brows furrowing, Rachel nodded. “I…’ll give you the benefit of the doubt?”

Nodding again, Sam walked them backwards, retaking his seat he’d stood up from to stop his girlfriend. Pulling Rachel down onto his lap, he smiled lopsidedly, locking his hands back around her waist. “Rache…”

“Yes?”

“You…” Sam sighed. There was no point in trying to be vague. Leaning back against the chair, he tried to put the most neutral expression on his face, “…Look at Santana?”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “I… Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she smiled innocently, bending forward to brush her nose along Sam’s.

“Yes you do.” Raising his eyebrows, Sam frowned slightly at his girlfriend. “I’m not stupid, Rache.”

Rachel’s brow furrowed. “I know that. I never said you were.” Touching Sam’s face, she rubbed her thumb along his cheek. “Sam… What is this about?”

“Santana,” he repeated plainly.

“What about her?”

Sam studied her eyes and face, breathing in slowly, equally as slowly letting it out between his teeth. “Rache…” he sighed, shaking his head slightly and tightening his grip on her waist before smoothing down, along her lower back, “You’re attracted to Santana.”

Rachel’s face went white, then red, her body freezing on Sam’s legs. “What?” she whispered, sitting back to stare at him, already shaking her head, “Sam, I’m not cheating on you.”

“And I never said you were.” Smiling slightly, lopsidedly, Sam settled his arms around her waist. “Rache. I never said you were.”

“Then… Then what?”

Sam sighed, managing to do so without seeming like he was making any concessions. “You’re attracted to her,” he repeated. “Don’t try to deny it,” he continued, smiling consciously, allowing again, “I may be pretty, but I ain’t dumb.”

“I…” Rachel’s words died in her throat, her body tensing even more on Sam’s lap, “I don’t…”

Sam shushed her, pulling her into a slow, firm kiss. “Rachel. Aren’t you curious at all why I’m saying this?”

“Maybe…?” Rachel whispered, shoulders wavering in a small shrug, hands sliding back to curl around his ears, her fingers tangling through his hair, “But I don’t know… I’m not sure…” Her teeth worried her lower lip, forehead pressing into his, “I don’t know if I want to hear this…”

“Why?”

Rachel lowered her eyes, not answering.

Sam studied her. “Rachel…” he lowered his voice, stroking her lower back supportively, “Are you… Wait. Do you…” He shook his head, kissing her again, enfolding her securely in his arms, “Are you afraid I’m going to leave you?

“Or,” he continued before she could say anything, “Are you afraid things can change?”

“…Will change,” Rachel corrected quietly, avoiding his eyes as her arms dropped to rest against his chest. “I just. I love you, Sam. I don’t need anyone else. Do…” Her eyes rose, finally, meeting his again, “Do you?”

Sam kissed her softly, reaffirmingly, his arm sweeping up and down her back. “No, promise. I just.” One corner of his lips quirked up. “It’s obvious you’re attracted to her. And, to be honest, I still am too.”

Though she didn’t look surprised, Rachel let out a deep breath, nodding slowly. Her hands flexed in his hair, spasming before falling to rest on his shoulders, her body lowering to relax into his; her cheek brushed against his neck, and she slipped her arms around his chest, “Sam, I… There’s something I have to tell you.”

The tone of her voice made Sam’s heart trip, a slight frown rising to his lips a second later. He stroked her back, “Yeah?”

“Before… Before I got together with you, I…” Rachel shifted, sighing, fingers coming up to grasp his shirt.

Sam nodded.

“…Slept with Santana.”

sam evans + being adorable

dylansobren:

Sam Evans+ reaction gifs.

New story is up~

Title: Of Mohawks and Trout
Author: Me (purrpickle)
Chapter: 1-5/?
Word Count: 700+
Rating: T
Pairing: Sam/Puck
Summary: 100 word Spuck drabbles.
A/N: Finally collected enough drabbles to make their own story. These have already been posted on here, but this is for collection purposes.

Link here: Of Mohawks and Trout

New story is up~

Title: Blinding Hot, Flashing Lights
Author: Me (purrpickle)
Chapter: 1/?
Word Count: 1,000+
Rating: M
Pairing: Rachel/Santana, Rachel/Sam, Rachel/Sam/Santana
Summary: Rachel knows she should call her girlfriend, get herself out of there, turn her drunken state into something more acceptable. She knows she should turn away. Should give herself a chance to laugh about this later, only barely tinged with a shadow of guilt. Should be responsible. Should do the right thing. Instead, her chin drops in a disjointed nod. 
A/N: Based off of a prompt from an anon; Samchelpez: Sam is a stripper in Kentucky, and Rachel finds him. She likes what she sees, and they wind up having sex… Until Rachel’s girlfriend Santana calls. Thanks!
A/N2: Yes, this has been posted on here before, but I finally got around to posting it on ffnet now. This is for collection on tumblr purposes.

Link here: Blinding Hot, Flashing Lights

Blinking blearily at the girl after she snatched her toothbrush away, Sam yawned and leaned against the wall. “Srry,” he mumbled. Tired fingers slid up his face and tangled in his bangs as he practically fell back asleep where he stood.

Watching him as she started brushing her teeth, Rachel’s look on consternation slowly smoothed into an affectionate smile she fully sported after spitting and rinsing her mouth. “Sam…” she brushed her fingers along his arm, “Maybe you should go back to bed. I still have to shower and change before you have to see me off.”

A giant yawn split Sam’s face, but he put up his hand. “No, no,” he started, straightening, “This is your… Our… Big day. I’m just.” He forced his eyes open wide, making a strange face to induce wakefulness, “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

“It’s because you’re not as used to getting up this early after a late night.” Smiling, Rachel leaned up to gently kiss Sam’s face, then reached out to turn him back towards the door of the bathroom. “Go back to bed, hun. I promise to wake you with enough time to look presentable.” Her smile turned impish, “Which isn’t hard to do.”

A green eye looked at her. “Was that a… A compliment?” Sam yawned again, then, looking sheepish, grumbled and nodded, sloppily kissing Rachel’s forehead before shuffling back to Rachel’s bedroom, “Sorry, babe. Sleeeeeeep.” A second later, it was followed by a hopeful, “‘R join me?”

Laughing, Rachel closed the bathroom door behind him.

The club is dark, dangerous. Too many flashing lights, too full drinks, and Rachel’s just this side of drunk that means she’s not as in control as she’d like to be. 

Tina is laughing in her ear, Lauren and Kitty yelling out excited and free compliments at the stage and the mohawked man rolling his abs who looks almost too much like Puck. But he doesn’t look too much like Puck that it’s off-putting so Rachel finds herself tossing a ten on stage as well. He’s not the best looking man she’s seen yet, but he’s definitely up there, and she finds herself nodding along with Tina’s assertions that she’d gladly get up on him. It’s all in good fun, she knows, so what’s the harm?

And, suddenly, the mohawked man is off, the loud and somewhat annoying announcer saying something about White Chocolate. It sounds familiar, and Rachel chances a glance around the club, blinking her bleary eyes as she realizes maybe the reason why she’s felt like she’s been here before is because she has. That thought, however, is swept away as a tall, well-built blond jumps through the curtains.

He’s devastatingly sexy, even more so than when they were teens, and Rachel can’t look away.

“Is that - ?” Tina horse squeals in her ear, snatching up Rachel’s hand.

Rachel wants to nod, thinks she does, but actually doesn’t because her full attention is on a man she hasn’t seen in years.

“Well, damn,” Lauren looks over the rim of her glasses, lips curling up, “I went after the wrong footballer after all.”

It’s Kitty who’s the first to throw a bill at him. “Sam! White Chocolate!” she yells loudly, waving, “Come ‘ere!”

Those unforgettable lips part in a blinding smile as Sam dances his way over to them, no hint of the panic and surprise Rachel had seen those years ago as he tears his shirt away. His fingers flirt with his pants, and Rachel’s gaze is drawn down as she realizes that this time Sam’s dance won’t end even after he’s recognized them. She sits up, swallows, fingers suddenly sweaty around the bills still in her hand. To make up for the fact she doesn’t know if she wants to smile or say something, she takes a long draught of her drink.

It’s the lights and the dangerous atmosphere of the club, she tells herself.

Sam’s eyes sparkle in the spotlight, the glitter glinting on his abs and arms and chest just accenting how much he’s gotten even sexier. How much he’s further perfected his ab rolls and pelvic thrusts. How he’s perfected… Everything. With a whoop and a money shower courtesy of Tina and Lauren, he performs the same tearing away of his pants as his shirt had gone, and Rachel’s eyes snap down. 

He’s…

Rachel pushes her hand out, practically vibrating as she waits for Sam to come to her. He’s smoother about taking her money now, fingers slipping along hers as he leaves just enough to warrant a personal tucking into his barely-there underwear later in his routine. She knows that’s what he’s offering because he winks at her as he pulls back, throwing his arms up in the air and turning around, swinging his hips to give the group a perfect look at his ass.

“Damn,” Kitty whisper-shouts, the four of them watching as he makes his way to the other side of the stage, “I don’t remember him ever being this - “

“It’s been five years,” Rachel cuts her off, not sure why she does, or why her voice is as husky or pointed as it is. This, seeing Sam, it’s too overwhelming. 

She knows she should call Santana, maybe so they can laugh about it or just make her feel better, to make the pounding of her heart due to someone else entirely. She should. 

Her drink trembles in her hand, her tongue swiping her lips, a too audible gasp leaving her as he turns back. Advancing on the group, pausing to give his attention to Kitty and Lauren and Tina in turn, Rachel knows it’s just to keep up appearances because as soon as he’s reached Rachel, he kneels down on the stage, placing his hand on the table top to support himself as he leans forward. “Rachel…” he breathes into her ear, rough and slightly out of breath, the heat from his body branding into her skin even as he makes it seem like it’s part of his routine - and who says it isn’t? Who says it’s just for Rachel herself, to make her shake and feel faint, to make her legs push together to try to get rid of the awareness erupting inside of her? But, “Rachel…” he finishes whispering, hand closing around hers to draw her hand to his hip and toned abs, sliding it down to the waistband of his thong, “La Quinta, room 18.” 

When he pulls back, making her fingers slip out of his underwear, stroking his burning and sweaty skin as her hand falls away, the twenty safely in his possession, Rachel finds herself staring dumbly at him. His eyes are dark, just as dangerous as the club is, and the corner of his lips quirk up.

He’s waiting.

Tina’s laughing in her ear again, practically draping herself across her shoulders, Lauren and Kitty yelling out suggestive comments again, but Sam keeps his eyes on hers as he goes back to the middle of the stage as the music starts to come to an end.

Rachel knows she should call her girlfriend, get herself out of there, turn her drunken state into something more acceptable.

Rachel knows she should turn away. Should give herself a chance to laugh about this later, only barely tinged with a shadow of guilt. Should be responsible. Should do the right thing…

Instead, her chin drops in a disjointed nod, eyes burning her message into Sam’s because her body can’t move enough to give him any clearer of an answer.

Sam’s smile is blinding, hot, teasing in what is promises.

Knocking back the rest of her drink, Rachel runs her hand through her hair and tries to pretend that she hadn’t just promised someone who wasn’t her girlfriend a night of sex by dropping into the comfort of her friends’ excited chatter. She laughs. She nods. She plays along. And as she does, she slowly, secretly, pulls her phone out of her purse. A heartbeat passes, and she presses down on the power button.

The club is dark, dangerous. Too many flashing lights, too full drinks, and Rachel’s just this side of drunk that means she’s not as in control as she’d like to be. 

Sam liked to think that what he didn’t achieve with school smarts, he made up with his personality and impressions (which were both awesome). And, depending on the girl or the group of guys he was with, he felt perfectly secure in that.

Rachel, however, was different. Maybe it was how he felt about her. Or how electrifying it was to have her full attention on him. He didn’t know.

One thing he did know, he thought as he watched her wait in line for use of the public showers, having insisted she didn’t want to walk around with sand caked all over her feet and legs, was that he didn’t have a problem with sticking around until he figured it out. 

Stretching, feeling the sun’s heat on his neck and shoulders, Sam shielded his eyes as he glanced up at the sky. No clouds in sight. Awesome. That probably meant hours of rain-free time. Damn, but whoever decided that celebrating their Nationals win in Florida was a fricken’ hero.

Not only was it away from school, but it helped foster… Potential.

“Hey, playin’ pack mule?” Puck said, coming up behind him. He was referencing the backpack and sun bag Sam held.

“Something like that.” Moving his gaze from Rachel, Sam grinned widely as he noticed the white sunglasses with rhinestones his friend was wearing. “Dude, who’d you steal the frames from?” 

Puck smiled smugly. He crossed his arms across his chest. “Sugar. She kept going on about wanting to get some obnoxious new ones at Disney, so I made my move back at the hotel; doubt she even noticed they were missing. I’m just that good.”

“Well, you’re rocking them,” Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Must be the mohawk.” He shifted, lips unconsciously curling up at the sight of Rachel bending over to scrub her ankles and legs, wiggling her flip-flops in the water to finish up, “Think I should try it?”

“A mohawk?” Puck clapped his hand on Sam’s shoulder, playfully shoving him forward on his feet, “Or my Jewish American Princess?”

His? Pursing his lips, Sam stared at the older boy, trying to read his expression. “You two’re dating?” He didn’t like how that thought made his stomach curdle. He also tried to ignore how his voice had sounded on that last word.

Smirking as if he had just been proven right, Puck raised an eyebrow at him. “Dude, you should look at yourself right now. You’re transparent. Nah,” he shrugged, pushing his hands into the pockets of his board shorts, lifting his chin to motion at the girl now making her way back to them, “That already happened. Though, you know, I could do worse than her. Damn, can that girl kiss!” He shook his head, elbowing Sam as he turned to slip back towards the others behind them, “Go for it, bro.”

Watching him walk off, his heart beating harder for some reason with what felt like… Hope? Sam jerked a bit when soft fingers brushed against his bicep, sending goosebumps racing up his arm.

“Hi!” Rachel smiled up at him, palm put out to take her bag back, “I’m ready now.”

Relinquishing her bag, Sam smiled at her thanks. “No worries,” he slid his backpack on, shuffling his shoulders to settle it correctly, “You hungry? I noticed a beach-side cafe on our way down here that looked like it probably had vegan options. I mean, it had giant vegetables and fruit on the sign, so, that’s a good indication, right?”

Rachel beamed up at him. Tucking wind-blown hair behind her ear, she started towards the others, pulling her bag in close to her side; Sam couldn’t help admiring how the sun played across her bare shoulders and back, making him swallow and avert his gaze, “That’s a good bet, yes, Sam, thank you. What do the others think?”

“That even if they don’t want to go, I’d be happy to.”

Rachel’s laugh was a mixture of surprise and being pleased. “Why, Mr. Evans,” she practically hummed, slipping closer towards him to take his arm, pressing her side into it and smiling up at him, eyes sparkling, “I do believe you’re being very charming.”

Sam automatically flexed, thrilling at the feeling of her bare skin and loose tank and bikini top. “You haven’t seen anything yet, darling,” he drawled, dredging up one of his ever available impressions to cover how ecstatic he was actually feeling. 

Taking a couple of seconds to answer, Rachel’s smile softened, her expression quietly nuanced, hopeful as she met Sam’s gaze again. “I hope not.”

Sam’s watching the sunlight playing across the tan back in front of him. His own blanket pushed down to his waist, he’s on his side, his hand a hairsbreadth from the skin he wants to stroke.

He’s surprised Puck’s still there.

Muscles stretch and bunch as Puck wakes up, groggily slapping the phone vibrating on the bedside table. “Dude…” he mutters, leaning up to look at the text message, “What time is it?”

Sam sits up. “After ten,” he answers, barely glancing at the clock.

Shrugging, Puck tosses his phone back down. “Awesome,” he yawns, turning to Sam, “Got food?”

Puck knows he’s hot shit. He also knows Sam knows it too.

Which is why he’s taking his sweet time taking his clothes off, making sure to keep the blond in his sights. Lingering, he knows it takes Sam another five minutes to get ready for the showers, always being the last to arrive to class.

Then, once under the hot water, he stations himself across from him. Knowing Sam’s watching, he flexes his muscles, taking time to soap himself up as alluringly as he can.

Awesomely, he can only grin when Sam approaches him as soon as they’re alone.