FIC: Just a Little Insight (7/?) Popular, Sam/Brooke
Just A Little Insight (7/?)
By Misty Flores
Teaser: It was the sharp realization, sitting at that dinner table, as soon as Harrison had chosen her and Sam's eyes welled up with tears, that for all her protestations of sisterly love to the world about Sam, she was incredibly, hopelessly, desperately, IN love with her. There was enough difference in that statement to completely destroy any sense of stability she had.
Series: Popular, Sam/Brooke, Brooke/other, Sam/other
Spoilers: Post SII
CHAPTERS
Prologue | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V| Part VI
--
There were times
When I could have
Murdered her
But you know
I would hate anything
To happen to her
No, I don't want to see her
- Girlfriend in a Coma
The crushing weight on her foot sent a shockwave of pain that distracted her from all else.
Yelping, Brooke flailed, hopping and nearly falling into the open trunk of the minivan.
"Holy …," she hissed, forgetting the water bottles until she realized that they had all sprung free from their box and were making their way merrily down their driveway. "CRAP!"
In a flurry of brunette hair, Sam had dropped her bag and was now attempting to fish up the bottles, ignoring the shuttle driver when he began to back his way out of the driveway. "God-dammit, Brooke-"
It wasn't exactly the most romantic reunion, and in light of their last conversation, Brooke wondered how she could even be disapointed.
"Sam," she said, and when Sam glanced up, brown eyes burning into hers with angry indignation, she found she couldn't think of anything else to say.
Breath rushing out in an angry sniff, Sam straightened, juggling bottles in her arms, curled into her chest. "When the hell did you become clumsy?"
Surprise had rendered her incapable of providing a snarky comeback. "What are you doing here?"
Sam made no effort to hide her irritation. Marching past her, she ignored the question, not even bothering to look at her as she made her way to the house with the bottles. "I'll be back to help you with the rest of it."
Brooke's emotions had hit an emotional wonderwall, as if she had felt so much so fast that at this point, there was no room for anything else. Her eyes followed the other girl up the path, stock stlil as Sam fumbled with her keys and then pushed open the door, disapearing into the kitchen.
"Oh, God," she whispered, a rush of feeling suddenly flooding out, as palms came to her face, and she took the moment to try and compose herself.
Taking a step forward, she winced, and managed a hobble, doing her best to step gingerly on her throbbing foot.
"What are you doing?"
"My foot hurts, what do you think?" she snapped, and it was meaner than she intended. Flushing with her own awkwardness, Brooke turned back, eyes on the rest of the bags of food. She gathered what she could, and as Sam passed her, she stared, a testament to her weakness.
Under her unknowing gaze, Sam was beautiful. In the few days they had been apart, she had gotten a tan, and her skin glowed from beneath the black tank top and tan shorts she was now sporting.
When Sam paused, glancing up suspiciously, Brooke felt a sudden flush of embarrasment, and glanced away.
Startled into an odd pact of peace, Brooke didn't say a word when Sam, struggling with her back, grabbed the rest of the groceries and headed for the door. She left Brooke behind, something she always did, Brooke thought in a bitter moment of self pity.
"God," she whispered, and in a burst of spirit, willed herself to shake it off. Closing the trunk, she reached around and smiled at the baby girl, who was actively twisting in her seat in a futile attempt to escape. "Ohhh, munchie," Brooke murmured, immediately amused, when Mac gave a grunt and outstretched her arms, impatient. "Come on."
"UP!" Mac commanded, and like a dutiful servant, Brooke hoisted the baby in her arms.
For a moment, just a moment, she swayed, awareness of what she was about to face taking over.
With a long breath out, she turned, and shut the door.
"Let's go."
--
It had been different before.
Brooke had never had a problem matching Sam hit for hit in their verbal smack downs. She never had to worry about being one-upped and when Sam hurt her, she knew how to hurt her right back.
But she had never wanted to hurt Sam, and now that she loved her, hurting Sam was the last thing she ever wanted to even fathom doing.
So why was it so easy?
Sam's expression was tight; her face a mask of quiet anger. She wouldn’t look at Brooke, even when Brooke was forced to move past her, depositing Mac into the huge playpen that now permanently sat up in the corner of the kitchen.
Sam's movements were short and jerky, removing the items from the grocery bag and putting them in their proper place.
Rubbing at her foot, Brooke watched her brokenly, unsure what to do to mend the silence. Her heart was on a precipice, and she was terrified, all it would take for Sam was one push to send her over the edge, to some place irreparable.
"I didn't know you were coming."
Sam visibly stiffened, before turning and pushing the can of green beans into the cupboard. She didn't respond.
The silence was maddening, and Brooke sighed, emotion going from tentative guilt to sudden irritation.
"So now you're not talking to me?" Sam kept her face buried in the grocery bag. "I didn't do anything WRONG, Sam!"
"You didn't-" Brown eyes suddenly met hers intensely, large and wide. "You didn't do anything wrong?!"
"NO," she snapped, pushing to her feet. "I didn't do anything wrong."
Sam stared at her, utterly lost. "Oh, God," she said suddenly, turning back to the counter. "You're unbelievable."
"No, Sam, I'm not." Crossing her arms, Brooke felt the flush of angry hot emotion curl over her, and in a way, she welcomed it. Anything was better than the insecurity and hurt that haunted her before. "I'm the one who took a plan home early, sick and miserable because I accidentally pissed you off. I'm the one that gave up my spring break and -"
"And what? Turned it into hell?" Sam's palm slapped on the counter. "I didn't ask you to FUCK Abby, Brooke. I lost my girlfriend because of you!"
"How the hell was THAT my fault, Sam?!" Coming forward, she heard her own voice crack with emotion. "NO," she breathed, when Sam turned away from her yet again. Fingers grabbed hold of Sam's forearm, forcing those deep dark eyes to look into her eyes. "No, you answer me."
Sam's body was now only inches from her own, and Brooke's heart pounded, desperate to hear her, desperate to try and understand why this had to hurt so much.
But Sam only jerked her hand away, stepped away from her as if she had been stung. "What the hell do you want me to say, huh Brooke?"
"I want the truth for ONCE, Sam!" Fingers digging into her bangs, Brooke turned away, overwhelmed. "For once, I want us to stop talking in circles and just get to the truth."
Her foot flared up at her, and she hissed in response, falling back into the dining room chair.
"DAMMIT," she sniffled, usually pathetic, as she once again brought her foot into her lap and began to need it, brushing hot salty tears away in distraction.
So involved in her spiral into self pity, she didn't realize Sam had been watching until her step-sister's hand suddenly landed on her knee. Head jerking up, she met dark brown eyes, staring at her curiously.
"Sam-" A beat too late, she began to speak, but eyes darting away from hers, Sam cut her off.
"Just, stop. Did you break anything?" Strong fingers were now molding over her foot, gently adding pressure.
Brooke couldn't tell. Her foot had gone literally numb with shock, and the rest of her was entirely too wrapped up in the vision of Sam knelt in front of her, bare fingers smoothing along her skin, those big brown eyes looking up at her with a mixture of frustration and aggravated concern.
Suddenly sensitive, Brooke blinked down at the picture of Sam's fingers on her foot, thin digits that massaged gently.
"Brooke."
Startled into breathing, Brooke realized she had actually gone light headed. "I'm... I'm okay, it's just... swollen."
Suspicion was clear on Sam's face. "You should put some ice on it," she told her matter of factly, and then rose, turning back toward the kitchen, jerking over the freezer door and pulling out a tray of cubes.
Sam's about face had been sudden, and weak from the emotional roller coaster, Brooke didn't know how to handle it. Her emotions were raw, and her heart was literally throbbing, and it was all coming together in such intense waves that she wasn't sure how much she could handle.
Coming back with a pile icecubes wrapped in a kitchen towel, Sam once again knelt down beside her. "Here," she said, and then stuck the freezing cold block of ice on her bare foot.
"Ow, it's cold!" Brooke snapped, jerking in her seat.
"Well, yeah!" Sam replied, and grabbed hold of her foot, keeping it in place. "It's ice, Brooke."
Brooke kept quiet, squirming uncomfortably as she once again found herself taking in the beautiful features just in front of her. Sam's eyes were on her foot, and still, Brooke's head was swimming with questions.
"Sam?" she began, voice breaking accidentally into a hoarse whisper. Brown eyes looked up, locked with hers. "What are you doing here?"
There was a moment, just a moment, where Brooke realized she had actually began to hope for the impossible. There was so much between them, so much unsaid, and in this moment, Brooke had had enough of the hiding. She wanted to push aside the curtain of hazy intention and misunderstanding and just come clean.
But the fingers slipped from her foot, and Sam's lush lips opened and closed, before her eyes dropped down and she turned away.
Brooke was lost, and she sighed raggedly, when her eyes fell onto their baby sister in the corner. Mac was happily chewing on the plastic cushioned railing of her little prison, eyeing them both.
"Have you heard from Abby?"
Casting Sam a surprised glance, Brooke placed the ice on the table, pushing herself up hesitantly. "No," she began carefully. "Why?"
Sam's mouth pursed, her brow pressed further together in a decided frown. "Forget it."
"Sam-"
The door jiggled, forcing both girls to turn to the kitchen entrance, when a distracted Jane entered the room, fumbling with her bag and her keys.
Catching sight of Brooke first, Jane's smile was a big one. "I’m glad I caught you. My appointment cancelled, so you're off the hook." When Brooke offered no expression, Jane blinked. "What is it?"
Glancing at Sam, Brooke offered a tired smile. Obviously distressed, Sam's fingers were in her hair, shifting her balance on both feet before she smiled tightly at her mother.
"Hi," she said, giving a mock wave.
"Sam." The surprise was evident. "What are you doing here?"
Sighing audibly, Sam clearly didn't want to give a reason. "I just decided to come home. That's still okay, right? I'm allowed to visit my family?"
"No, Sam, it's- it's fine, I just... I didn't expect- Oh, forget it-" Coming forward, Jane enveloped her firstborn into a hug, pressing a kiss against her forehead. "Hi."
Brooke suddenly felt as if she were intruding. "You know what? You guys, obviously have a lot to talk about, and I've been wanting to pick up Lil' Bleu for a while, so... why don't you guys catch up and I'll see you tonight sometime."
"No, Brooke!" Swiping the keys off the counter, she stepped into her Keds, wincing a bit at the tight fit. "It's late, and traffic is a nightmare."
"I'll be fine," she said, shrugging on a sweater.
"Well, if you're going to go, then take Sam."
There might as well have been a tire iron slamming into Brooke's chest. A quick glance at Sam told her everything she needed to know about Sam's feelings on the subject.
"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of you two catching up?" she asked breathlessly.
"We can catch up when you get back. The three of us." Jane had that look on her face, the scary 'I'll smile and not mean it so you better do what I say' expression that made wanting to say no that much harder. "Besides, I think the two of you should talk."
"Mom? I don't want to talk," Sam snapped, and the look that Jane gave her was withering.
"I repeat," Jane said, enunciating every word. "The two of you should talk." With a meaningful glance at Brooke, Jane moved over to Mac, and began to give her a complete sentence in gibberish.
Sighing raggedly, Brooke closed her eyes, overwhelmed.
Opening them, she discovered Sam staring at her.
Unsure of everything, she only shook her head tiredly, and headed for the door.
--
The 405 was never not messy, and Brooke was in no real mood to deal with it.
Both hands on the steering wheel, she kept her eyes on the road, grateful for the ruin of her tiny sports car, weaving as fast as she dared through the traffic.
Beside her, Sam fumbled with the radio controls, making sure to keep the music as loud as possible in order to avoid having an actual conversation.
It was quickly pissing her off.
"Would you pick a station?!" she snapped, when once again, Sam changed the tuner mid-song.
Jerking her finger away from the radio, Sam eyed her angrily. "God, I'm sorry, my Queen," she said, over-exaggerating. "The radio is yours."
A bitter smile floated onto her features. "Good," she said, in no mood to even try to play nice. Reaching forward, she shut it off completely.
Fingers tightening around her steering wheel, she didn't stop to wonder why she was suddenly so annoyed. It was easier to be annoyed, than to drive herself crazy with wondering why the hell Sam came back.
"So, what?" Sam drawled, when the silence stretched for longer than she apparently could keep her issues bottled up. "You're gay now?"
Wincing at the flippancy of the question, Brooke licked her lips and stared straight ahead. "Yes," she answered honestly. "I am."
Peripheral vision saw Sam's reaction, and it was almost worth the sudden influx of emotion at admitting it. Finally.
Breathing in hard, Brooke tried hard to blink the tears away, swallowing down that lump of feeling. Her heart began to pound inside of her, and she forced herself to keep her eyes on the road, anywhere but on Sam.
She was sure that Sam must have been looking at her like a gaping fish, because obviously Sam was expecting any other answer. She heard visible shifting in her seat, and her knuckles grew white under abuse she was giving the poor steering wheel.
"What, was Abby that good?"
The remark brought so much hurt Brooke nearly doubled over. "God, DAMN, Sam," she snapped, and pounded at the steering wheel, wiping at the stinging droplets that now slipped to her cheeks. "Why do you do that?!" Sliding her tear-streaked gaze to Sam, she discovered the other girl staring at her with an almost frightened expression. "God, for ONCE, can you talk to me without hurting me?"
Sam didn't respond, eyes round and wide, staring at her as if she were staring at a stranger.
"Look, Brooke, how do you..." Shifting forward, Sam seemed to be struggling, and Brooke didn't care. "How do you expect me to react? It's not like you ever-"
"Forget it," Brooke sniffled, reaching almost violently for the Kleenex. "I didn't tell you because I was afraid, and God, I just feel so stupid-"
Stabbing at the radio, she turned it up, loud and pounding into the car, filling the place with sound, doing what she could to try to cover up the audible breaking of her heart.
"Brooke, what the fuck?!" she heard, a shout, before Sam nearly broke the radio, index finger jerking at the power button, shutting it off just as quickly. "Look at me."
"I'm driving," Brooke said, eyes straight ahead.
"No, you're ignoring me. I can't believe I fucking flew two thousand miles for this shit."
Brooke shook her head in disbelief. "No one asked you too, Sammy! So why did you?!"
"Damn, Brooke-"
"NO, I want to KNOW!" Brooke breathed, throwing an acidic glance Sam's way, to discover the other girl's hands on her face, clearly frustrated. "I want to know what could have been so important that you could have given up on trying to get back your precious girlfriend-"
"YOU, Brooke! Okay? FUCK." In a burst of violent frustration, Sam suddenly pounded at the dashboard, and immediately hissed, drawing her palm into her lap.
Startled into quiet, Brooke knew she had to keep watching the road, but Sam shifted beside her, and her voice was so clogged with tears, Brooke both wanted and dreaded seeing the expression on Sam's face.
Whimpering, Sam held her fist to her chest, nursing it, and when she finally looked at Brooke, her eyes were luminous pools of emotion.
Licking her lips, Sam collapsed in her seat, head falling back against the seat.
"I HATE that I love you," she heard, weak and devastated, and it broke her.
Brooke didn't respond, she kept her eyes on the road, because for what seemed like the millionth time, she was in an impossible situation and didn't know how to fix it.
So she drove.
--
The sorority house lay on a quiet street filled with old Victorian homes, snapped up by the university when the affluent crowd that lived in them abandoned them for the safety of suburbia. They were large, nearly mansions, and they lay side by side, emblazoned with the letters of the sororities and fraternities that inhabited them.
Thanks to the Spring Break desertion, she managed to find a parking spot relatively close to hers. Still fragile, she pulled up the brake and turned off the ignition.
Beside her, Sam hadn't moved, arms crossed as she stayed sunken in her chair.
"You don't have to come," Brooke said, the first sentence she had spoken since Sam's outburst.
Head lolling over to look at her, Sam's expressive mouth twitched, before she sighed raggedly and pushed at the door, answering her by getting out of the car.
Pushing the car door closed, Brooke shouldered her purse and stepped into the walk beside Sam, turning into the driveway.
"We won't be here long," she said shortly, fishing for her keys. "I just want to put him in a baggie and then we'll head out."
"Whatever," Sam said, leaning against the wooden frame as Brooke inserted the key into the lock.
"Brookie?" Unable to ignore the pained look on Sam's face, Brooke turned to discover Jenny, a blonde haired junior, coming up the driveway with her bike. "What are you doing here?!"
Swallowing hard, Brooke glanced quickly at Sam, and sighed raggedly. "I'm just here for my fish."
"Oh.... Okay. Good to see you!" Jenny's smile was odd, and Brooke was in no mood to really think about it, as she offered a smile back, not bothering to introduce the extremely anti-social Sam.
"So what does your sorority think about it?" Sam asked, following up the lush carpeted stairs.
Brooke smiled awkwardly. "They don't know yet."
"Right," Sam said, obviously not surprised, and followed her into her room.
There was the fish in the corner, swimming away. "Hi baby!" Brooke said, a gentle voice, and without a second glance, headed for the dresser on the opposite end.
Desperately to get out of there, Brooke jerked open a drawer, reaching for the heavy duty plastic bags she kept for her trips.
"Uhh... Brooke?" Glancing back, Brooke discovered Sam standing in front of the bowl, a strange expression on her face. "That's not Bleu."
"What?" she asked, and Sam shrugged at her, obviously puzzled. Coming forward, she moved beside Sam, and took a closer look at the fish. In the champagne glass, a little blue-green fish stared up at her. "That's not Bleu," she breathed, sharing a suddenly panicked glance with Sam. "Martha!?"
But it was Jenny who stood in the doorway, fingers tangled in front of her nervously. "Oh, shit. You noticed. We were hoping you wouldn't notice."
"Where the hell is her fish?" Sam demanded.
Throat dry, Brooke stared at her, heartbeat fluttering in sudden panic.
Jenny stepped back, obviously a little intimidated by Sam's suddenly protective stand. "Well, okay... BACK UP!" she nearly shrieked, and suddenly there were two other girls in the room, all staring at Brooke with tremendously frightened expressions. "Look, we're really REALLY sorry, Brooke, but... you see... Oh, God, I can't say it..."
Allison, a sophomore with a bushy brown mane, grabbed hold of Jenny's shoulder. "See, the thing is, Brooke? We knew how much you liked that fish, so everyone was SUPER paranoid about not feeding it, and... I guess no one checked with anyone else..."
"What happened," Sam interrupted, voice firm, angry.
"Everyone fed it! Everyone! And no one thought to check with anyone else and... I guess it just..."
"We are SO sorry," Jenny breathed. "Really. I mean, we got you that guy hoping you wouldn't notice..."
"We named him Lil' Bleu Too," Allison offered meekly.
"What the hell is WRONG with you people?!" Sam snapped, but Brooke couldn't hear her.
Turning wild eyes onto the wrong fish, Brooke's hand flew to her chest, overwhelmed.
The fish in the bowl was the WRONG fish, and she tried so hard to process that, and yet somehow, she couldn't.
In her head, she knew it had to be an overreaction, because her devastation was over a FISH, but her chest flared in pain, and she lost herself.
"I just ..."
"Brooke, we're SORRY."
Sam stared at her, and unable to do anything else, Brooke only stared at her beseechingly.
"Just get out!" She heard her say, and she was grateful, as she sunk onto the bed, ears pounding, eyes watering.
"Oh, God," she breathed, and began to tremble, the grief so deep, so hurtful, because the little fish was gone, and it had been her fault.
Her fingers covered her face, and she sucked in a ragged sob.
Weight shifted on the bed, and suddenly a warm palm covered her own, fingers peeling her own from her face. Through a tear-streaked haze, she discovered Sam beside her, staring at her.
Sam didn't say anything, but her thumb grazed Brooke's cheek, wiping at her tears. Brooke's eyes closed at the gesture, and without reservation, she swayed into her beloved's embrace.
Arms wrapped around her, held her tight, and in them, Brooke broke completely.
"Shh," Sam whispered, a soft voice against her ear, and Brooke only sobbed harder, clinging to the other girl with everything she had left.
--
She wasn't sure how they ended up like they did, curled up in her small bed, Brooke holding onto to Sam like she was a life-size life preserver. She wasn't sure if it had been hours or minutes after she had cried for her lost little fish.
All she did know, was that for once, the walls that had been built up between them from a year of misconception and fear laid crumbled.
Every single part of her was touching Sam, from their feet curled together to the hand on Sam's hip. Brooke was sweaty and Sam's collar was completely moist with Brooke's tears.
Brooke kept her eyes shut tight, afraid to let go, and for once, Sam seemed to understand. One slender arm had curled underneath Brooke's neck, keeping her close, the other rubbed gently up and down her forearm, creating soft, reassuring tingles.
Emotionally spent, Brooke's awareness was coming back to her, and she shifted slightly, opening her eyes to discover the beautiful face inches from her own.
"I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely, suddenly self conscious.
"It's okay," Sam answered back.
"No, I just..." Wiping a stray tear from her face, she tried to push down the painful lump in her throat, head shifting down on the pillow, eyes fluttering as Sam shimmied closer. "I just... I get it. I know I'm over-reacting. I know it's just a fish."
"No one should tell you how to feel, Brooke." Sam's fingers tightened around her shoulder, a comforting squeeze. "I know how much he meant to you."
"No," Brooke breathed, and then stopped, sighed raggedly, and shook her head, trying hard to enunciate her feelings. "I mean, yes, he meant a lot..."
"Brooke..."
Colored eyes met brown intensely. "You gave him to me."
The words were said clearly, distinctly, and Brooke didn't look away. The emotion between them, charged and intimate, began to shift, and she felt herself flush, staring into the beautiful face as the words began to process, and that lush, expressive mouth opened, closed.
Breathing out raggedly, insanely in love, Brooke couldn't help herself.
Reaching up, she ran fingertips against the outline of that mouth, felt the hot breath of Sam. Enraptured, Brooke smoothed her palm over the cheek, and when Sam's eyes fluttered closed, her heart leaped inside her chest.
Eyes open, Brooke knew she would die if she didn't kiss her.
Leaning forward, a soft mouth pressed against another, ragged breath fluttering against lips, in a tender first kiss.
-- end chapter