Chords and Quarterbacks

As Jason Mraz started to croon, she smiled and nodded. "I'm gonna have to call Colbie and Jason and thank them for writing our love song." The grin made her weak in the knees. It was part of his boyish charm, the kind that had attracted her to him. The goofy grin that matched her own, making them both look younger as the stress washed from their faces.

He could take her breath away with his words, and she had a feeling he'd do it often. She pressed her lips to his gently, a chaste and innocent kiss that wasn't meant to start something, but just because. Because his lips felt so good on her own.

“You still sound better than Colbie,” he teased, though his voice cracked just a little as he whispered it, the truth tucked into the humor. He let his thumb stroke along the back of her hand, grounding himself in her touch the same way she was grounding in his.

“Lucky I’m in love with my best friend…”

His forehead rested against hers, their voices mixing—messy, imperfect, but real. And when he glanced into her eyes again, it wasn’t just nostalgia or relief shining there—it was something steady. Certain.

It was easy for Quinn to get lost in her head. When there was nothing to hide behind, no façade to keep up, that's when her worst thoughts, the thoughts that hated herself crept in. And yet in this moment, all there was was them. Just Sam and her.

"We can meet in the middle. In the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania. Amish country if we have to." She chuckled, biting her bottom lip gently as she realized just how willing she was to make sure this worked this time. She was not going to let Sam go, not unless he told her to. She deserved to be happy and god, did he make her happy.

She felt more tears slip down her cheeks, her free hand coming up to grab his forearm gently, as if she needed the contact, the feel of his skin on her own, to keep her in her spot. His words, those three words, followed by her name. Had her name ever sounded like that when anyone else said it? Had Finn or Puck saying her name ever make her feel so complete?

It was like all of the love that Russel had taken from her, all the love and joy and hope she had before Beth, the insecurity, the self loathing, it was slowly being washed away as they sat there.

“Guess the universe is trying to tell us something,” he said, voice warm, husky with everything unsaid. He didn’t have to say the name of the song; they both knew it, felt it the second the chords came through the speakers. Their song. Their beginning.

He let his hand drift down from her cheek to squeeze her hand tighter, eyes glinting with something between awe and relief. “Back then, I don’t think I understood how much that song would mean. Singing it with you, it felt like… like it was ours. But now?” He gave a crooked grin, the kind only she ever pulled out of him. “Now it feels like it was written for us.”

His forehead pressed to hers again, lighter this time, almost playful. “Don’t think I’m ever letting you go again, Quinn Fabray. Not when every song seems to prove you’re supposed to be right here with me.”

As the tears fell and her vision blurred, she felt his hand come up to brush against her face. "If I could have been in that room instead of you, I would have done it, in a heartbeat." Saying the words felt big. These were big emotions. But instead of letting them overwhelm her, she spoke them into existence.

"I was so stupid back then. When it all happened." It had taken Quinn a lot of therapy and self work to finally realize that she had been looking for the love she needed to give herself in others. That when her father had ripped his love from her, she had been left begging for others to love her. And in the process, she had hurt a lot of people, herself included.

"I know it's not gonna be easy, but I want this. Whatever this is. If I need to drive 10 hours from New Haven for an hour with you, I'll do it." That was her biggest fear. She was afraid to leave Lima, that the moment she left, he would decide she wasn't worth the trouble.

'He wants you, Quinn. He reached out to you. Don't put words in his mouth or actions to his person.' Her therapists voice invaded her head, like her own personal jiminy cricket. And it helped, in moments like this where her old habits tried to come back.

He leaned in slowly, pressing his forehead to hers, closing his eyes just as she did. His hand remained gentle against her cheek, thumb brushing lightly, memorizing the warmth of her skin.

“You have no idea how long I’ve needed to hear that,” he murmured, voice rough and low. “And I don’t care how hard it’s gonna be, Quinn. I’ll come get you. I’ll drive anywhere. I’ll do whatever it takes. Because I’ve never stopped wanting this. Never stopped wanting you.”

He shook his head slightly, a soft, almost pained smile tugging at his lips. “And you should know… I would never have wanted you in that room. Not then, not ever. You were never supposed to see that. I’m so glad you weren’t there.”

He let his other hand find hers again, fingers intertwining with ease, like they were made to fit together. “I love you, Quinn Fabray. Always have. Always will.”

She was just Quinn. It was her favorite.

The way he looked at her, it made her want to blush and shy away. Like he could see her naked. And while it un-nerved her, she wouldn't want it to be anyone else.

"It doesn't feel like anything else matters. When you texted me..." She recalled the panic she felt not even 12 hours ago, the sobbing she had done on the phone with Santana. They both realized in that moment how very little things mattered. Quinn didn't care right now about her grade in the classes she was missing or what people thought of her for up and leaving mid lecture.

All that had mattered was her people. Sam, Britt. The others.

"This is the first time I feel like I can breathe since you texted me. You should have seen me on the plane, I'm sure everyone thought I was crazy." She had attempted to keep a calm and composed front but with every tweet from the media and every second without Sam's name popping up on her phone, it had broken her down.

She met his eyes and she could feel the tears welling up again. "I prayed for the first time in a long time. And then Don't Take The Girl came on my stupid iTunes and I lost it again." The song wasn't too terribly meaningful to their relationship, although it had been Sam's mom who showed it to her. But in that moment, she would have begged whoever she had to to let her take Sam's place.

“Quinn… I didn’t think you’d come. I just—I sent that text because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I didn’t expect…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he didn’t know whether to smile or break down.

His free hand came up, brushing her cheek with the back of his knuckles, tender and unhurried. “You prayed for me. You got on a plane. You’re sitting here right now, looking at me like I matter more than anything else. That’s… it’s a lot. And it means everything.”

He exhaled, steady but uneven all at once, leaning a little closer like her presence was gravity pulling him in. “I don’t care if people on that plane thought you were crazy. You’re here."

"At night, you can see all the stars. I used to bring a blanket and just lay out here, put my headphones on." She found it hard to see them in the city. After life in a small town, the city sometimes felt too big. But she acclimated.

"You feel pretty close."

Her smile returned, the soft, light kind that he brought out in her more often than not. "Sorry if I'm too...touchy. I just..." she felt her words taper off. Was it her need to know he was real, to know this was reality and not some cruel joke. Or was it because today she could have lost him.

He shifted slightly in his seat, turning toward her just enough so their knees brushed. The contact was light, but grounding.

“You’re not too touchy,” he added after a beat, voice low. “Not with me. Especially not today.” His gaze lingered on her face, tracing the way her expression softened when she smiled, the way her eyes seemed to hold him in place.

He didn’t need to ask why—he understood. Maybe not every detail, but enough. Enough to know that she was here because she wanted to be, and that he didn’t want her anywhere else.

"When I was pregnant with Beth, I came here a lot. I came here once after my accident. It was my first solo drive. I sat out here for hours." This place was healing. The openness, the small pond where Quinn had sat with a bag of peas feeding the ducks, feeling the little girl in her belly do flips. It had been her sanctuary, and now hopefully, he could find some peace here as well.

She reached over, taking his hand in her own, holding it between both of hers. "If you wanna talk about it, you can. If not, we can talk about anything else. Or not talk." She looked into his eyes, letting go of his hand with her right, to brush some of his hair back out of his face.

It was odd how natural it all felt, to be in his presence, to share his space. While everything had changed, it also felt so familiar.

"I didn’t know that," he said quietly. "About you coming here after… everything." He didn’t push further, didn’t need to. The weight of it was already there, tucked gently between the lines she offered him.

He looked out the windshield, toward the open space and still pond. “It makes sense, though. It feels like the kind of place that would let you breathe.”

The song shifted again, mellow and steady in the background. He didn’t rush to fill the silence, just let it stretch comfortably for a moment.

She didn't respond, but instead let his words sit in her chest, sure that they would hit her different later, when she was alone. But right now, she didn't wanna cry again. Right now, she wanted to take away any bad feelings, to just be in this moment, with the person she cared for.

She scrunched her nose, leaning in even closer and kissing his cheek. "We have a standing agreement. I drink your milkshake and you get all the kisses you want." She turned back to the speaker, ordering his meal before moving up to the next window. She paid quickly, shoving her wallet in her purse with absolutely no delicacy.

Usually, when she liked someone, she had all these false pretenses. The complete perfection, never showing any of what she labeled as the "bad parts". But Sam had seen all of her. He knew the messy parts, the things that no one else knew.

"Thank you." She was polite but made zero attempt to small talk. She handed Sam the bag, tucking the cups into their holders before she started driving again.

It wasn't far, maybe 2 miles away. It took 5 minutes, and Quinn was happy to see the parking lot nearly empty. This park had been her safe space when she had been pregnant with Beth. She had sat out on the swings, reminded of easier times before her life was turned on it's head,

When they pulled into the lot and she spoke, he leaned forward a bit, looking out at the park through the windshield. The empty swings moved ever so slightly in the breeze, and there was something almost cinematic about the quiet.

"Lame?" he echoed, shaking his head with a soft grin. "Quinn, this place is like... peak serenity. You kidding? It’s perfect."

“I like that it matters to you. That you brought me here.”

She made her way toward the only McDonalds in town, sliding in and out of lanes with ease. It helped that a lot of people were off the roads. Most were home or at the school, trying to make sense of what had happened.

"No fries? That might be a deal breaker." She made a face, but kept her eyes on the road, a smile slipping out after a moment. She was a known fry thief, so much so that it was required that she get her own with Santana.

She took a deep breath and nodded at his question. "Since the accident, I developed some...driving anxiety. I find that if there's something on, I don't worry so much." Her face flushed at his compliment, a shy smile touching her face.

Sam’s eyes softened as she mentioned the accident, as casually as she could, like it wasn’t the kind of thing that still echoed in her bones. He didn’t push—never would—but he couldn’t just let it slide by like it wasn’t important either.

“You know, you saying that…” he began, voice gentle, “I don’t think I ever told you how glad I am that you’re okay. That you made it through that.” He looked at her, really looked—at the way her hands gripped the wheel, steady even when her voice betrayed a flicker of nerves. “I know you probably hate talking about it, but… I think it’s kind of amazing. That you’re still driving, still doing life. That takes guts, Quinn.”

There was no pity in his tone, just quiet admiration. A kind of awe for the strength she never boasted about, the resilience tucked into the corners of who she was. Then she hit him with that soft confession, the one that unspooled a thousand memories all at once—late-night drives, slushie runs, the time he’d driven her home in silence just so she wouldn’t have to be alone. "I missed this... driving with you."

Sam’s chest ached in the best way. “I missed it too,” he said, his voice nearly catching at the edges. “I missed you.” And then—“Were you serious about the six cheeseburgers?” His grin returned full force, like it couldn’t not when she was looking at him like that.

“Okay, maybe not six,” he admitted, holding up three fingers. “Let’s say three. I gotta leave room for fries, obviously.” He shot her a look, knowing full well she’d steal half of them anyway. “And yeah, chocolate shake. Large.” He leaned just a little closer, eyes warm. “You still do that thing where you pretend you don’t want a sip of mine, then drink half of it?”

"Let me always be with you, come let me love you, come love me again."

Those words were so close to what they had said in the parking lot, hearing them again made her heart skip. Soon, they were driving again and she focused her eyes on the road, smiling as he spoke about the florescent lights. "Let's go through a drive thru and then go to my spot. Anything you want in particular?"

She felt his eyes on her but refused to take her eyes off the road, even for a moment. She didn't feel scrutinized or like he was judging her, it brought a sense of calm to her to know that he was there.

He let the lyrics wash over him as he stared out the window for a moment, the trees lining the road passing by like a memory. He didn’t know when the day would stop feeling surreal, but sitting beside her, hgearing her sing like that? It made the ache ease.

“Drive thru sounds perfect,” he said after a beat, his voice low and touched with warmth. “Honestly, I’d eat, like… six cheeseburgers and a chocolate shake right now.”

And when his fingers intertwined with hers, she pressed another gentle kiss to his lips before she pulled him gently toward the rental. They'd gone midsize, something that could fit a bunch of them if anyone else decided to fly in. "This is ours." She let go of his hand, sliding into the drivers seat and turning the car on.

"Are you hungry?" She pulled out of the spot, making her way out of the parking lot with little to no interruption. She wouldn't have been able to stand it if they had descended on Sam. She would have lost all sense of control.

As she led him toward the car, he followed wordlessly, the late afternoon light casting long shadows on the pavement, the echo of sirens and the murmurs of distant voices still lingering in the air like ghosts. But none of it touched him now. Not when Quinn was here. Not when she was already sliding into the driver’s seat like this was just the next beat in their rhythm.

This is ours.

The words settled in his chest like a balm, and he climbed in beside her, settling into the passenger seat with a soft exhale. He leaned his head back for a second, eyes closing briefly as the engine came to life.

At her question, he turned his head to look at her, eyes a little clearer now, but tired.

“Starving,” he admitted, voice low. “But I don’t know if I can handle fluorescent lights and plastic booths right now.”

Her eyes opened again, looking at his smile, the way his eyes crinkled, the way his face lit. Whatever good she had done to be standing here with him looking at her like that, she wasn't sure, but she must have done something.

And as his lips descended on hers again, she felt her body lean into his, into his touch, his kiss. For the first time in the longest time, she felt like she was whole. The hand in his hair tugged so gently as she cupped the back of his neck, letting the kiss continue until she felt something hit her in the head.

She turned to scowl at Santana, who had Brittany wrapped in her arms. "I'm taking Britt home. Let me know before you head back East, Q." The blonde nodded, blowing a kiss to Brittany, not wanting to leave the safety that Sam's arms provided. Once they were leaving, Quinn turned her face back to look at Sam.

The kiss had left his heart thudding a little too fast, a little too loud, but in the best way. Like a reminder he was alive. That they were. Her hand in his hair, the weight of her body leaning into his—he hadn’t realized how badly he needed to feel held until she gave that to him without asking for anything in return.

And then the sudden thwack to Quinn’s head brought them both crashing back to reality.

Sam looked over just in time to catch Santana’s signature smirk and the way Brittany clung to her, fragile and quiet. His expression softened. He hadn’t been the only one scared today. Not by a long shot. "Love you, Britt. Take it easy."

He turned back just as Quinn looked at him again, her voice quieter now but steady. The way she said “vultures” made his jaw twitch for a second, his eyes flicking to the school and the news vans lined just beyond the gates.

It lit up her heart. One smile from Samuel Evans was enough to heal the sick, the make the blind see and the deaf hear. She had always loved his smile. In a shoebox, somewhere in the attic, was a stack of polaroid's, taken by she, Sam and the kids during a church picnic. And while most of them stayed in the shoebox, there was one that still hung in her dorm back in New Haven.

The sun was bright and high in the sky. Sam and Quinn were sitting on the side of the dock, shoes off and feet in the water. She didn't remember what was said, but there were smiles on both their faces, wide and bright, and captured forever. The joy that they shared frozen in time.

Quinn felt his hand leave her back and when she felt it again on her face, she leaned into it, letting the warmth seep into her skin. Like he was her sun, and all she could do was be close and bask in his light.

'So much for calm, cool and collected, huh Fabray? You're practically rolling over for a belly rub.'

She closed her eyes for a moment, silencing the voice in her head telling her to close up, to protect herself. Because today could have been the day she lost him, and she would be damned if she ever pushed him away again.

It was better.

She was here. After everything. After the breakup, after the pain, after the hours of silence and space and wondering if she’d ever look at him like that again. And now she was standing in front of him, telling him she was his.

And that she wanted to be.

His thumb traced slow, lazy circles along her cheekbone, grounding himself in the warmth of her, in the feel of her skin beneath his palm. That voice in her head—he didn’t know it by name, didn’t know how loud it got—but he knew what it was like to live with doubt scratching at the back of your ribs.

So he leaned in, just a little closer, lips barely brushing hers as he spoke.

“I want all of it,” he whispered. “You don’t have to be anything but what you are.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her again, and there it was—that smile. That boyish, soft smile that belonged to her and her alone.

“I want the hard days and the good ones. I want whatever this is. As long as it’s with you.”

She had never felt safer in high school than when she had been Sam's. She never felt more at peace when the world around them was in chaos. The eye of the tornado, the center of the storm.

She chuckled as the tip of his nose brushed her, the little bell like laughter that was so uniquely her.

"Lor menari, right?"

That day, the first day, felt like it happened a decade ago and yet she remembered it like it was yesterday. Cleaning him up, seeing that dopey sweet smile that she grew to love for the first time. She had pretended to not care, to not let him sweet charm through her walls of stone. But they did.

Lor menari.

God, that felt like a lifetime ago. Back when everything was simpler, when their biggest problems was hallway drama. But even then—even from the start—Quinn had seen through him in a way no one else had. He remembered that day so clearly. Her fingers dabbing gently at his face, her walls up so high he didn’t think he’d ever scale them… and still, there she was. Letting him in, even if just a little.

And now? She was here. Again. Still.

His lips curved softly at her words, but the weight of them hit him like a wave. You were either going to ruin my life, or I’d never get over you. She said it so easily, like it wasn’t the most vulnerable truth she could’ve given him.

His hand slid up from her back to cradle the side of her face, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone, his touch reverent.

“Quinn,” he said, voice thick, “I don’t think I ever stopped being yours.”

The words hung in the air between them—quiet, certain, real.

“And I don’t want to,” he added, nose still brushing against hers, breath mingling with hers in the small space between.

She'd had dreams about this too. Since junior year when she had chased Finn. And while she would always care for him, she regretted hurting Sam in the process. It was to this day, one of her biggest regrets.

"I think we both needed time." Time to mature, time to live, time to grow. "We needed to be apart, to find our way back." She knew especially she had needed this.

Part of her still wondered if she was going to mess this up too, if she would hurt him again. But she couldn't think like that. Not yet. She couldn't sabotage herself and this relationship before it even started.

He didn’t rush to respond. He let the moment live, let the weight of her honesty soak into the quiet. Because she was right—they had needed time. Time to figure out who they were apart from each other, to stumble and screw up and grow. And somehow, through all of it, he’d never stopped holding onto the hope that she might find her way back to him.

“You’re real,” he murmured eventually, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. “Of course you are. I’d know if I was dreaming. You’d probably be yelling at me in Latin or something if this was a dream. Or maybe in Na'vi.”

That this was a dream she would wake from, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Because this had to be. His hand tightened and her other hand went to his chest, not to push him away or to keep any distance. But her hand situated itself over his heart, where she swore she could feel it beating under her fingertips.

Because Sam was here. And so was she.

She heard the click of a camera, saw the flash even as her eyes were shut. But she couldn't bring herself to care. Because for the first time in two years, her world was at peace. The voices in her head that told her she was worthless, the ones that sounded like her father and plagued her in her worst moments, they were silent.

All she felt was him.

When his forehead rested against hers, she forced herself to take slow deep breaths, not opening her eyes for fear of waking from the dream.

Her fingers brushed through the hair at the nape of his neck as she took in the moment.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Wow.”

He didn’t move away. Didn’t dare. Because this—her hand over his heart, her fingers brushing through his hair, their foreheads still touching—this was everything he’d wanted and everything he hadn’t let himself hope for.

And he felt it. That shift. That quiet settling of something long restless inside him. For the first time in what felt like forever, the ache in his chest wasn’t from missing her. It was from having her so close, it almost hurt to hold on.

“I used to dream about this,” he admitted, voice low and cracked around the edges. “About you just… being here. Like this. And I’d wake up thinking it was never gonna happen again.”

His hand on her back pressed just slightly, grounding himself.

"You have me."

A gasp escaped her mouth as his arm slid around her and her eyes met his once more. He wanted her? After all this time, after all she had put him through. Her eyes focused on his, his beautiful green eyes shining with tears, and something else. Something she knew all too well because she had seen it once before.

"I don't know what would have happened if you..." The thought ruined her. Thoughts of him being hurt, of worse. She had imagined a hundred different realities on her way here, and she had more than once had to be consoled by her best friend, the other person who knew the exact feelings that plagued her mind.

Sam didn’t hesitate. His hands tightened at her waist, one sliding up to the small of her back as he kissed her like he’d been holding the moment in his chest for a year and finally had permission to let it out. It wasn’t hurried or desperate—it was full. Full of everything they hadn’t said, of the near-miss they’d just survived, of the ache of missing someone so deeply it started to feel like a part of you had gone silent.

She was here. She was real. And she was kissing him.

His hand covering her own, finally touching her back, that's what took her breath away.

She could only imagine how they looked, standing in the middle of the schoolyard, holding onto each other like they depended on it. Her eyes searched his as the words processed through her brain, exhausted from adrenaline and the tight air on the plane.

"I don't deserve you. You're kind and sweet and you make me feel." Quinn had chased that good feeling her whole life, ever since she Lucy. Since long before the cosmetic surgery and the HBIC energy.

"I've missed you so much, Samuel Evans."

Just her.

He felt the way her voice trembled when she said she didn’t deserve him, and it made his heart ache all over again. How could she not see it? Everything she thought made her unworthy—he saw all of it, and he still loved her. Maybe even because of it.

“You don’t have to deserve me,” he whispered. “You have me.”

His voice cracked again, gentler this time, as he let one hand fall from her cheek and slide around her waist. “We both made mistakes, Q. But I’ve never stopped wanting this. Wanting you.”

He pulled back just enough to see her eyes again, red-rimmed and glassy, beautiful even through the exhaustion.

He exhaled slowly, like her presence was finally letting his lungs work right again.