Title: Cracks In The Armor
Author: takeanotherturn
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Season 2
Pairings: Minor Sam/Quinn, Finn/Rachel, eventual Quinn/Rachel
Summary: The story of a girl, her beard, and her struggle to land the girl of her dreams.

Sam Evans wanted to tell Quinn Fabray that he loved her. Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure that he really did but they'd been dating for a while now -almost a whole month!- and he really cared about her and she was super hot and popular and her nickname was Q which was totally badass. He figured it was kind of the closest to love he was ever going to get in high school. Plus, if he told her that he loved her, Quinn might just let him get past first base.

Sam knew that a declaration like that required careful planning, he wanted to keep things light. Quinn had been hurt in the past and big romantic gestures weren't his style anyway. He knew that she thought it was cute and endearing when he got all geeky so, he decided, he'd just have to find a hilarious and dorktastic way to tell her he loved her and then she'd let him touch her boobs. If you asked him, Sam's plan was practically flawless.

So there they were, making out in the Fabray's study -which really seemed more like some creepy Jesus shrine and actually totally freaked him out but it was the only place that Quinn would allow them to get their mack on so he dealt with it. Once Sam had suggested that they go up to her bedroom and she'd accidentally kneed him in the balls.- and Quinn had just smacked his hand away from where'd he'd gently rested it on her knee. She drew back and he knew that she was about to say it was time to pray and it just slipped out. "I'm in lesbians with you."

Even in the dim orange glow of the fireplace, Sam could see all the color drain from her face. Oh shit, too soon, he thought to himself as Quinn practically threw herself back against the opposite arm of the couch, looking like he'd just punched her in the stomach. Which he would never ever do, by the way, Samuel Joseph Evans was totally against violence towards women.

"What'd you just say?" she finally asked, in a voice so cold it could refreeze the melting polar icecaps.

Oh crap, she was really mad. This was worse than the time he'd said Beiste's name when they were making out but strangely still not as bad as when he'd innocently asked her why everyone hated Rachel Berry so much; that time Quinn had gone all red in the face and launched into a passionate, two hour long lecture on Rachel's many flaws that didn't actually end up clarifying anything. "I-"

"Why would you say that? I'm not gay!" Quinn snapped, her shock giving way to rage. "Who told you that I was?"

"Nobody!" Obviously, Quinn had never seen Scott Pilgrim versus The World, he'd have to lend her the dvd sometime.

"It was RuPaul, wasn't it," Quinn accused, now bordering on hysteria. Now Sam was just confused, what did RuPaul have to do with this? Had she found out about his secret love for Drag Race? "Berry thinks she knows everything just because she has two gay dads. Just because I'm not a slut that'll let you touch the sides of my breasts like her, it does not mean that I am a lesbian, Sam!"

Oh, so RuPaul was Rachel, which didn't really make any sense to him. What could Rachel possibly have in common with a tall, black, drag queen? "Quinn, I was just-"

"If I was a lesbian, would I be kissing you? No. And I had a baby, which means I had sex with a guy, which means that I'm straight and not gay and I don't know why you'd believe her anyway because I don't even own any flannel!"

...What? "Rachel didn't-"

"You need to leave," Quinn said, shoving him off the couch and barely giving him enough time to collect his backpack and shoes before she was forcibly ushering him through her house towards the front door.

"Quinn, just wait," he protested as she wrenched the heavy oak door open.

Quinn cut him off again. "I'll see you tomorrow," she said curtly, pushing him out onto the porch. "And I'm not gay!" she shouted one last time before slamming the door in his face.

Bewildered and a little hurt, Sam stood there awkwardly clutching his bag and sneakers to his chest. How had his quirky little declaration of love turn out like this? "Okay, that was weird."

Coming from a kid who went to a high school where people burst into song at the drop of a hat, that was saying something.