FIC: Just a Little Insight (10/?) Popular, Sam/Brooke
Just A Little Insight (10/?)
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 | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX
--
PART TEN - Things You Told Her All Along
"You could say it's a rash."
With an irritated sigh, Brooke's eyes shifted from the mirror image of herself to that of her step-sister, standing right behind her. Arms crossed, Sam looked like a chastised little girl.
Focusing again on the hickeys, Brooke furrowed her brow, lifting her chin to inspect the smudged skin further. There was still some visible redness, but the cover up had benefited from a good twenty minutes of blending, and while her entire neck was pancaked with make up, the hickeys weren't THAT discernable.
"Maybe a collar," she decided anxiously, shoulders straightening.
"Or a scarf."
"You really want me to die of dehydration, don't you?"
Sam shrugged. "It's your hickey, I’m just trying to help." Moving to her side of the mirror, Sam began to powder her nose, and added helpfully, "And not a huge bulky scarf. One of those little teeny silky scarves."
"I never wear those," Brooke pointed out. "If I did go out there with one on Jane would zero in on it like I had an arrow pointed to these."
Brown eyes studied the area intently, and Brooke found herself flushing under the attention.
It was easy to slip into the two extremes - the feeling that came with what had transpired the night before, and the squabbling that was comfortable, easy. Both were a reaction, and Brooke bit her lip and looked away, somehow embarrassed by her lack of control.
She nearly turned away, ready to go lock herself into the room, and figure all this out by herself, when she caught sight of the other girl in the mirror, and in a flash, remembered three words, said in the heat of the moment.
She had told Sam she loved her… and she had meant it.
Shuddering erratically, she turned back, fingers pressing against the counter. "Listen… Sam." Fingers in her hair, Sam faltered, glancing back at her. Flashing a hesitant smile, she tried to gather her courage. "I know we haven't really had a chance to talk about this, but…"
And of course, that was when Sam's phone rang, right beside Brooke's fingers, buzzing against her for effect.
Heart sinking, she blinked at it, staring down at the little roach looking thing as Sam eyed her, obviously unsure how to take the call.
"Here," she said, grabbing the phone, ready to hand it to her, until the LCD screen blinked the name of the caller.
The name was unexpected, and it shouldn't have been, but still, the shock of it slid deep into her, stealing her breath and her movement.
Her frozen impersonation must have been a little too obvious, because Sam reached forward, and snatched the phone from her fingers.
"I can get it," Sam snapped, in a low, flat voice, and then glanced at the phone. The caller registered on her face, in the quick shift of her eyes to Brooke's before she glanced evenly away. Opening the phone, she turned away from Brooke, and shut the door.
Crossing her arms, Brooke wondered how it felt like she lost Sam, when she never really had her.
--
"GIRLS!"
Jane's voice had lilted up, obviously on the edge of her patience, when Brooke scuttled into the kitchen, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.
"I'm here!" she said, rushed to Little Mac's side, placing a distracted kiss on the baby's head. Concentrating on the handful of Cheerios currently scattered on her baby seat tray, Mac hardly noticed. "Sorry."
"How late were you up till last night?" Jane said, brandishing a spatula like a weapon, glancing up from her hash browns. "I checked in on you at midnight and you weren't even in your room."
A deep crimson blush flushed through her. "Umm… pretty late. I was talking to my friend Stephanie on the phone until like, 3. And then I didn't sleep much."
"Something wrong?" Jane paused, glancing up suspiciously. "Sam didn't do anything to you, did she?"
"Oh…" Brooke found the sudden heat intolerable. Crossing the kitchen, she opened the cupboard and pulled out a glass, suddenly craving an ice water. "No, Sam didn't… she didn't do anything. Just you know…" Turning on her heel, she blinked, swallowing when her throat went dry. "I was just thinking that today might be a good day to tell Dad. You know… before I left."
Heart lodged suddenly in her throat, Brooke waited for Jane's reaction, as her stepmother glanced up from the sizzling hash browns to give her a sad, contemplative look.
Her eyes suddenly widened.
"What on EARTH is on your neck?!"
Oh, dear God.
Hand slapping to her neck, Brooke felt suddenly like a gutted fish on a pier, gasping for air. "Um…"
"It's a rash." The words were said quickly, rushed, as Sam stood in the open doorway, eyes wide and sincere. "Right? Brooke?!"
"Right," Brooke babbled, head bobbing. "It's a rash. It's really not that bad-" she added, cornered against the fridge when Jane came to inspect. "I was hoping it wouldn't show because I didn't want to worry you-"
Jane tilted her chin up, staring at the smudged make up.
"Brooke, if I didn't know better-"
"But you do!" Sam said. "You know how sensitive Brooke's skin is. I think it was cause she borrowed my wool pj's."
"Yes, wool makes me itchy."
"You borrowed wool pj's in the middle of spring?"
Brooke gulped. "I was uncomfortably cold."
"And besides, Mom," Sam said, fingers curling her bangs over her ear. "When would she have time to get a hickey? She's been with me all evening."
Brooke tried to bite down the whimper.
Jane still looked unconvinced. "Well, is it all over your body or just your neck? Do you need to see a doctor?"
"No doctor!" she squeaked. "Really, Jane. It should clear up in a couple days, I’m sure it's fine. I just have to remember to stay away from wool. Because it's itchy."
In the corner of her eye, she could see Sam nodding avidly.
It was flimsy logic, but thankfully, the kitchen was on her side.
"Your hash browns are burning," Sam noted, which made Jane hiss and jump away, an attempt to save her potatoes.
Sighing in relief, Brooke glanced at Sam, and discovered a somber, conflicted stare. Sam looked away.
--
Hands dipping in scalding water, Brooke almost felt numb, skin flaring in slight protest as she rinsed the dishes, wiping off the soapy residue.
"So…" Jane said, when it was just the two of them, as Sam had decided to take Mac for a changing. "You really want to do this today?"
Mouth pursing in unintended angst, Brooke sighed, and watched her hands dip into the soapy water.
"Not that I won't support you," Jane continued, "Or not be by your side when you tell him, but it's happening awfully fast. Are you sure you've had enough time to process it?"
"Not really," she admitted, and her eyes fluttered and she remembered going too far, too fast, feeling Sam inside her. Unsteadily, she opened her eyes and turned to her stepmother. "How did he react about Sam?"
Pausing midwipe, Jane's mouth tightened. "Honey, I don't know if it's the same." Brooke's eyes went back to the water. "You're his little girl, and he could never be disappointed in you, but -"
"But he will be," she breathed.
"He'll be surprised," Jane enunciated. "Sam… she does things. You… you always seemed very clear with what you wanted."
"Yeah," she said, suddenly bitter. "Like when I was stuffing things down my throat and then throwing them back up. God, I'm sorry," she managed, slapping her hands into the water. "I'm sorry, that's not what I … I just don't want to… I don't want to lie anymore, Jane. I've done so much hiding and so much being afraid, and for what?" Staring into the murky water, she felt her eyes begin to sting. "I almost died, Jane. I almost died and I woke up and I was still dead inside."
Soft warmth enveloped her, and then there was a press of motherly lips against her forehead and the feel of cotton against her cheek. Brooke didn't know how starved she was for the affection until she felt it.
"We'll tell him tonight," Jane promised, in the quiet aftermath of her outburst. "You and me, and Sam, if you want her there."
God… she was so close, so close to being free, and yet, she wasn't.
"Thanks," she answered mutely, heavily.
--
From: Alover@yahoo.com
To: Bmcqueen@usc.edu
Subject: Hey.
Hi, Brooke. I know this is weird, me emailing you, but I wanted to see how you were doing. I know the last time we saw each other things were a little insane, and God help me, you gave me a conscious.
Hope you don't mind the stalker routine. My cousin goes to SC and I had him look up your address in the campus directory.
Anyway, hope you're doing okay. I'm not sure how much Sam has told you but the Spring Break was pretty much shot after you left. Not that it's your fault.
It's just… all so weird, you know? I mean lesbian drama has never been my thing to begin with, but it got borderline crazy. But it doesn't mean I wouldn't change what happened.
Okay, maybe I wouldn't drink so much. At least then I could remember more about what happened.
Anyway, give me a bump back if you feel like it. I don't know how you feel about being friends, but I'd like to hear from you again.
Abby
Oh, right and tell Sam to go to hell, huh?
--
The email had been waiting in her inbox when she logged in that afternoon.
Brooke reread it twice, before she sighed, pulling her leg up to cradle it against her chest, and rest her chin on her knee.
Beside the laptop, Lil' Bleu Too rested on the glass beads of his bowl, delicate fins rippling slightly when he shifted his position. He wasn't Lil' Bleu, he had his own, slightly laid back personality, and while Brooke knew she should have been above it, he was, at this time, just a fish.
Still, she smiled slightly, and rubbed the glass with her index finger, petting him in her own way.
"Hey, silly too too," she said, in a soft high pitched voice. "I know you don't know much about me… I'm 19, but I feel older. I had an eating disorder and it never really goes away, but I'm stronger about it now. My mother left me and my dad and it really messed me up, and I was the most popular girl in school until my dad went and started dating the mother of my high school nemesis. So Sam and I became step sisters and even though I hated her I wanted her to like me for some unfathomable reason. We fought over everything and even though after a while we realized we kinda liked each other, we still didn't know how not to fight, and then I realized I was actually IN love with her and kinda gay and then I got hit by a car."
The fin rippled.
"I know. It's a total soap opera."
"Who are you talking to?"
Arching her neck and looking over her shoulder, she discovered Sam standing in the doorway, palms smoothing down her jeans. It looked like a nervous tick.
"The fish," Brooke replied, and then turned back to the computer, clicking out of the email. "What's up?"
Sam wavered, and Brooke felt curiously numb inside.
"I … um… okay…" Sam's face was flushed, ears tinted pink, and she began to poke her tongue outside her mouth, the very Sammy thing to do when she was unsure. "I just wanted to tell you that… if you're coming out to your dad today… I can be there."
Brooke stared at her. "Thanks."
Sam nodded, and began to step back, ready to leave her room. "You're welcome."
"Sam." Brooke glanced at the floor, and discovered her heart in an odd place, some sort of resignation that felt much like the place she was before… after the accident.
"Yeah?" Her crystal eyes must have looked exhausted, because Sam looked immediately concerned. "What's wrong?"
Brooke found herself suddenly overwhelmed, and she forced a smile. "I was thinking about taking a photography elective when I got back to school."
Sam looked completely confused, but had the good grace to go with it. "That's good, Brooke."
"Really?"
"Yeah, you're good at it. I mean, you made me look beautiful."
She managed a soft smile. "That's because you are beautiful, Sam."
Her expression was sincere, as her eyes locked onto Sam's and her beautiful lover wavered, mouth trembling before she smiled tightly.
"You're the beautiful one, Brooke. You always have been."
Sam was sitting on her bed, in the tension that filled the moment, Brooke remembered what they had done, how it had felt to take complete possession of Sam, and that was why it had changed everything.
"I don't know why it's so hard," she finally admitted. "I don't know why it's so easy to fight or to…" she glanced at the bed, and sighed raggedly, "And I can't say what I want to say to you. I don't know how."
Across from her, Sam just slumped back onto the bed.
"At least you're trying," she heard.
Brooke smiled darkly. "Are you getting back together with Rebecca?"
There was a long pause. "I don't know."
It was a fair answer, it was an honest answer, and yet even Brooke couldn't have understood why it disappointed her so much.
"She's comfortable, Brooke. She doesn't have… all … this."
"You can talk to her," Brooke said numbly.
A long, breathless sigh exhaled from her lover.
"I guess that's the trouble, right?" Brooke said, staring at her fingers. "I mean, with all this emotion comes all these extremes… that's all we're going to have."
"Brooke…" the words were choked. "It doesn’t mean…"
"No… it doesn't," Brooke agreed. "But it doesn't change the truth. There's so many feelings and words and ideas and situations piled on between us and everything's so new and raw and there's just so much change that we could keep doing this and just end up resenting each other for it because neither of us wants to give in."
"So where does that put us?"
"That's the point, I guess," Brooke answered, tired, sad. "There is no us." That said, she pushed off the chair and glanced at the stunned woman on her bed. Sam's expression was hard to gauge, but her eyes were moist, and Brooke never felt more in love than she did then. "I think you should get back together with Rebecca," she managed thickly, and then left the room.
--
Sam wasn't there when Brooke told her father, but then again, Brooke didn't really expect her to be. She wasn't sure what she expected, when she sat down at the kitchen table after dinner, with Jane on one side and Mike on the other.
Her father wore a tight half smile, and Brooke guessed he must have been afraid that maybe there had been some sort of complication with the coma, as the doctors had warned a year ago, or the eating disorder had reared its ugly head, or something equally frightening.
Brooke was fairly sure that when she finally admitted it was her sexuality on the table, Mike nearly had a heart attack in relief.
He doubled over, let out a long breath, and then without warning lunged across the table and gathered her so tightly in his arms she nearly choked.
"Oh, my baby girl," he breathed, as Brooke blinked, and gasped a little, and Jane looked at them both like she had just sat through a marathon of Steel Magnolias, Beaches, and Prince of Tides. "It's okay. It's okay. I love you!"
And that was quite possibly the most uneventful part of her coming out.
Brooke would adore her dad forever for it.
--
To: Alover@yahoo.com
From: Bmcqueen@usc.edu
Subject: Hey
Hi! To be honest I'm actually really glad to hear from you. I know it was a really awkward set of circumstances that brought us together, but I'm not going to regret that I met you. Maybe I would have done things a little differently but you forced a lot of change in me.
Well, maybe it wasn't just you, but because of you and what happened, I finally came clean about myself to Jane. I mean, granted, I was a sobbing hung over wreck when I did it, and I nearly caused a four lane accident, but I did it. And she was amazing about it. And then I ran into my old 'boyfriend' from high school and now he knows too. And I called my sorority sister and now she knows.
And then Sam came home and I came out to her, and well… that was more complicated. But despite all the weirdness with Sam, my dad now knows. You know a lot of things have happened to you if you're dad is actually relieved that the only 'problem' with you is that you're gay.
Anyway, that's kind of where I'm at right now. In the midst of a lot of change. I'm still in love with Sam, but I don't know what to do with that, now.
Wow, I'm sure this was more than what you wanted to hear, right? Sorry, I've come out to so many people in the last few days (even my new fish knows) that shutting up just doesn't seem to work around anyone but Sam.
It's weird. I know nothing is ever going to be the same again, and I don’t know how I feel about that. I want to be truly free, but even with all this weight taken off… there's still a tangle of complication.
I guess that's what happens when you're in love with your asshole stepsister.
Sorry for the long rambling thoughts, but it honestly really was great to hear from you. Do you have AIM? Maybe we can chat sometime.
Brooke
Oh, and tell Rebecca to kiss my ass.
--
"You know what? You're such an asshole, Brooke."
Glancing up from the book currently opened and laid out on her bed, Brooke barely had a chance to register that before Sam MacPherson charged into her room from the bathroom, jerking the door closed and then heading to her bedroom door, and flipping the dead bolt.
"What are you doing?"
"You're an asshole!" Sam repeated, looking like some furious warrior princess, brown eyes wide and blazing. "You give me some bullshit speech about how we can't ever communicate and then the second we start trying you shut it down."
Biting down on her lower lip, Brooke sat up, crystal eyes following the form of her lover as she began to pace her room, back and forth.
"I mean, FUCK, Brooke! You get into a coma and I do nothing but blame myself for months and then you wake up and pretty much turn into a completely bitch and ignore me for a year. Then you find out I'm gay and you spin some bullshit yarn about how sorry you are that you ignored me and tell me you want to make it up to me, and then when I, like an idiot, believe you and invite you to Spring Break with me, you go and hook up with FUCKING ABBY of all people and then tell me you're in the middle of a sexual identity crisis! And THEN instead of sticking around to actually face the shit vacation you just ruined you up and leave in the middle of the day, and make me look like a complete asshole to my friends and I had to have Abby, ABBY of all people, announce in front of everyone that you told her you're in love with me!" Brooke blinked, barely processing that bit of new information before Sam plowed on, shoving a furious finger in her direction. "And then, because I'm an IDIOT I tell Rebecca I'm worried about you and have to make sure you're okay and actually follow your ass over here, which cost me nearly a grand, by the way, money I HAVE TO CHARGE, I get here and Mom thinks I'M the asshole. And then you tell me you're suddenly gay and then your fish dies and when I try to comfort you, you make out with me! Knowing how I felt about you! And then you tell me you're in love with me and then just leave me with that! FUCK, Brooke!"
Furious tears had begun to slip down Sam's cheeks, and Brooke found herself aching suddenly at the sight of them.
"What was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to do, Brooke?! In a span of three days you take everything I thought I knew about you and you fling it out the window - how am I supposed to keep up?! You knew how I felt about you. You KNEW! You could have had me anytime you wanted and instead you wait until I'm fucked up and confused and angry and would do anything to just move ON from you." Pausing, Sam blinked, and turned back to her. "I'm sorry, Brooke, if I don’t know what to do. Up until last night I didn't EVER think I would ever sleep with you, and now I have and honestly? Yes, I love you. But I don't trust you. And it's still entirely fucked up! Our parents are married and you came out like, a minute ago and you're going to SC and I'm at Northwestern and we don't even LIKE each other half the time and it's a fucking mess. But it's not all my fault. Because you're an asshole."
In the aftermath of Sam's long, rambling confession, Brooke felt winded.
"Well," she said finally. "At least you're finally being honest."
Sam stared at her disbelievingly, and then suddenly, she began harsh, broken chuckle, and Brooke had no choice but to get off the bed and come forward, as tenderly as she could.
"Hey," she began, and Sam shook her head furiously, stepping away from her, as if she was afraid. "I don't want to hurt you, Sam," Brooke whispered. "I’m sorry that I'm broken. I'm sorry if I don’t know how to love you, but it didn't change the fact that I do."
"That doesn't mean much, Brooke," Sam sniffled, and Brooke smiled sadly at the truth of that.
"Sam, it doesn't change anything," she whispered softly. "If we had kept on not talking about it then last night would have just kept happening and that would be all we would know how to do. Fighting and... fucking." She winced, the word rancid on her tongue. "And God, Sam... what else could we have? I don't want to be a torrid secret we have to hide. I've done enough hiding."
"Brooke..." Sam stared at her, tear-streaked and still willful, and then suddenly her little lover moved into her arms and pressed her lips against hers, in a passionate, desperate embrace.
Just the touch of Sam, the feel of her, brought with it that electric jolt, and Brooke's instinct followed before her brain could catch up. Soft lips plundered her own, and a firm tongue swept inside her mouth to claim her own, in a dance of desperate passion.
It was too easy to fantasize that it was more than it was, when she let Sam push them both to the bed, until her knees hit the back of the bed, and she fell back, Sam falling with her, until she was on top.
Trembling fingers fumbled with her shirt, and Brooke sighed raggedly, lifting her torso from the bed to allow slender palms to slide up her ribs. The shirt went over her head, snagging on her chin and nearly choking her in the process, and Sam offered a short apology before she captured her lips again hotly and slid arms around Brooke, holding her tightly.
Painting a trail of kisses down her body, from her jaw to tip of her left breast, Sam sucked in a lungful of air.
It was a ragged breath, unsure, unsteady, and Brooke's head fell back when she felt Sam's mouth descend on her nipple.
Sam was right, she was an asshole. If she was anything else, she could have stopped it.
--
Curled into her, Sam was beautiful, tired. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was even, but her thumb rubbed alongside Brooke's, and when Brooke shifted, body still humming from the intense lovemaking, she shimmied closer, almost unconsciously.
Brooke watched her, utterly enraptured.
"I want to tell Jane and my Dad."
Sam's eyes fluttered open, and then closed again. "No, Brooke. It's not going to make it any easier."
"But it would make it real."
"It's not real enough?" came the whispered, raspy reply.
"No," Brooke responded, and leaned forward, thumbing a bang away from her lover's face. "Because I’m going back to my sorority and my school and you're going back to Northwestern and to Rebecca."
"You told me to go back to her."
Brooke's eyes shut tightly at the flat response. "I know. It's not that I want you to." Sam's eyes opened. "Sam, you saved my life."
"What are you talking about?"
Brooke kept her mouth purposely shut, and she buried her head further into the downy pillow and cursed her own weakness.
Tomorrow was going to change everything. She was going back to school and she was doing it as a lesbian. Stephanie was never one to keep things quiet, she was sure Maria knew, she was sure the whole sorority knew by now.
There was no going back, and everything was different and for the first time since the coma, Brooke felt reborn.
Sam was beside her: the unknown catalyst to Brooke's own private metamorphosis.
What had Brooke given her in return but her own confusion?
"Sam," Brooke whispered. "We'll figure this out."
"From across the country?"
"We seemed to do better over email and AIM, anyway."
"Healthy," Sam remarked dryly, eyes still closed, and Brooke blanched. It all left a sour taste in her mouth, and that was the last thing she ever wanted to associate with Sam.
-- end chapter
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 | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX
--
PART TEN - Things You Told Her All Along
"You could say it's a rash."
With an irritated sigh, Brooke's eyes shifted from the mirror image of herself to that of her step-sister, standing right behind her. Arms crossed, Sam looked like a chastised little girl.
Focusing again on the hickeys, Brooke furrowed her brow, lifting her chin to inspect the smudged skin further. There was still some visible redness, but the cover up had benefited from a good twenty minutes of blending, and while her entire neck was pancaked with make up, the hickeys weren't THAT discernable.
"Maybe a collar," she decided anxiously, shoulders straightening.
"Or a scarf."
"You really want me to die of dehydration, don't you?"
Sam shrugged. "It's your hickey, I’m just trying to help." Moving to her side of the mirror, Sam began to powder her nose, and added helpfully, "And not a huge bulky scarf. One of those little teeny silky scarves."
"I never wear those," Brooke pointed out. "If I did go out there with one on Jane would zero in on it like I had an arrow pointed to these."
Brown eyes studied the area intently, and Brooke found herself flushing under the attention.
It was easy to slip into the two extremes - the feeling that came with what had transpired the night before, and the squabbling that was comfortable, easy. Both were a reaction, and Brooke bit her lip and looked away, somehow embarrassed by her lack of control.
She nearly turned away, ready to go lock herself into the room, and figure all this out by herself, when she caught sight of the other girl in the mirror, and in a flash, remembered three words, said in the heat of the moment.
She had told Sam she loved her… and she had meant it.
Shuddering erratically, she turned back, fingers pressing against the counter. "Listen… Sam." Fingers in her hair, Sam faltered, glancing back at her. Flashing a hesitant smile, she tried to gather her courage. "I know we haven't really had a chance to talk about this, but…"
And of course, that was when Sam's phone rang, right beside Brooke's fingers, buzzing against her for effect.
Heart sinking, she blinked at it, staring down at the little roach looking thing as Sam eyed her, obviously unsure how to take the call.
"Here," she said, grabbing the phone, ready to hand it to her, until the LCD screen blinked the name of the caller.
The name was unexpected, and it shouldn't have been, but still, the shock of it slid deep into her, stealing her breath and her movement.
Her frozen impersonation must have been a little too obvious, because Sam reached forward, and snatched the phone from her fingers.
"I can get it," Sam snapped, in a low, flat voice, and then glanced at the phone. The caller registered on her face, in the quick shift of her eyes to Brooke's before she glanced evenly away. Opening the phone, she turned away from Brooke, and shut the door.
Crossing her arms, Brooke wondered how it felt like she lost Sam, when she never really had her.
--
"GIRLS!"
Jane's voice had lilted up, obviously on the edge of her patience, when Brooke scuttled into the kitchen, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.
"I'm here!" she said, rushed to Little Mac's side, placing a distracted kiss on the baby's head. Concentrating on the handful of Cheerios currently scattered on her baby seat tray, Mac hardly noticed. "Sorry."
"How late were you up till last night?" Jane said, brandishing a spatula like a weapon, glancing up from her hash browns. "I checked in on you at midnight and you weren't even in your room."
A deep crimson blush flushed through her. "Umm… pretty late. I was talking to my friend Stephanie on the phone until like, 3. And then I didn't sleep much."
"Something wrong?" Jane paused, glancing up suspiciously. "Sam didn't do anything to you, did she?"
"Oh…" Brooke found the sudden heat intolerable. Crossing the kitchen, she opened the cupboard and pulled out a glass, suddenly craving an ice water. "No, Sam didn't… she didn't do anything. Just you know…" Turning on her heel, she blinked, swallowing when her throat went dry. "I was just thinking that today might be a good day to tell Dad. You know… before I left."
Heart lodged suddenly in her throat, Brooke waited for Jane's reaction, as her stepmother glanced up from the sizzling hash browns to give her a sad, contemplative look.
Her eyes suddenly widened.
"What on EARTH is on your neck?!"
Oh, dear God.
Hand slapping to her neck, Brooke felt suddenly like a gutted fish on a pier, gasping for air. "Um…"
"It's a rash." The words were said quickly, rushed, as Sam stood in the open doorway, eyes wide and sincere. "Right? Brooke?!"
"Right," Brooke babbled, head bobbing. "It's a rash. It's really not that bad-" she added, cornered against the fridge when Jane came to inspect. "I was hoping it wouldn't show because I didn't want to worry you-"
Jane tilted her chin up, staring at the smudged make up.
"Brooke, if I didn't know better-"
"But you do!" Sam said. "You know how sensitive Brooke's skin is. I think it was cause she borrowed my wool pj's."
"Yes, wool makes me itchy."
"You borrowed wool pj's in the middle of spring?"
Brooke gulped. "I was uncomfortably cold."
"And besides, Mom," Sam said, fingers curling her bangs over her ear. "When would she have time to get a hickey? She's been with me all evening."
Brooke tried to bite down the whimper.
Jane still looked unconvinced. "Well, is it all over your body or just your neck? Do you need to see a doctor?"
"No doctor!" she squeaked. "Really, Jane. It should clear up in a couple days, I’m sure it's fine. I just have to remember to stay away from wool. Because it's itchy."
In the corner of her eye, she could see Sam nodding avidly.
It was flimsy logic, but thankfully, the kitchen was on her side.
"Your hash browns are burning," Sam noted, which made Jane hiss and jump away, an attempt to save her potatoes.
Sighing in relief, Brooke glanced at Sam, and discovered a somber, conflicted stare. Sam looked away.
--
Hands dipping in scalding water, Brooke almost felt numb, skin flaring in slight protest as she rinsed the dishes, wiping off the soapy residue.
"So…" Jane said, when it was just the two of them, as Sam had decided to take Mac for a changing. "You really want to do this today?"
Mouth pursing in unintended angst, Brooke sighed, and watched her hands dip into the soapy water.
"Not that I won't support you," Jane continued, "Or not be by your side when you tell him, but it's happening awfully fast. Are you sure you've had enough time to process it?"
"Not really," she admitted, and her eyes fluttered and she remembered going too far, too fast, feeling Sam inside her. Unsteadily, she opened her eyes and turned to her stepmother. "How did he react about Sam?"
Pausing midwipe, Jane's mouth tightened. "Honey, I don't know if it's the same." Brooke's eyes went back to the water. "You're his little girl, and he could never be disappointed in you, but -"
"But he will be," she breathed.
"He'll be surprised," Jane enunciated. "Sam… she does things. You… you always seemed very clear with what you wanted."
"Yeah," she said, suddenly bitter. "Like when I was stuffing things down my throat and then throwing them back up. God, I'm sorry," she managed, slapping her hands into the water. "I'm sorry, that's not what I … I just don't want to… I don't want to lie anymore, Jane. I've done so much hiding and so much being afraid, and for what?" Staring into the murky water, she felt her eyes begin to sting. "I almost died, Jane. I almost died and I woke up and I was still dead inside."
Soft warmth enveloped her, and then there was a press of motherly lips against her forehead and the feel of cotton against her cheek. Brooke didn't know how starved she was for the affection until she felt it.
"We'll tell him tonight," Jane promised, in the quiet aftermath of her outburst. "You and me, and Sam, if you want her there."
God… she was so close, so close to being free, and yet, she wasn't.
"Thanks," she answered mutely, heavily.
--
From: Alover@yahoo.com
To: Bmcqueen@usc.edu
Subject: Hey.
Hi, Brooke. I know this is weird, me emailing you, but I wanted to see how you were doing. I know the last time we saw each other things were a little insane, and God help me, you gave me a conscious.
Hope you don't mind the stalker routine. My cousin goes to SC and I had him look up your address in the campus directory.
Anyway, hope you're doing okay. I'm not sure how much Sam has told you but the Spring Break was pretty much shot after you left. Not that it's your fault.
It's just… all so weird, you know? I mean lesbian drama has never been my thing to begin with, but it got borderline crazy. But it doesn't mean I wouldn't change what happened.
Okay, maybe I wouldn't drink so much. At least then I could remember more about what happened.
Anyway, give me a bump back if you feel like it. I don't know how you feel about being friends, but I'd like to hear from you again.
Abby
Oh, right and tell Sam to go to hell, huh?
--
The email had been waiting in her inbox when she logged in that afternoon.
Brooke reread it twice, before she sighed, pulling her leg up to cradle it against her chest, and rest her chin on her knee.
Beside the laptop, Lil' Bleu Too rested on the glass beads of his bowl, delicate fins rippling slightly when he shifted his position. He wasn't Lil' Bleu, he had his own, slightly laid back personality, and while Brooke knew she should have been above it, he was, at this time, just a fish.
Still, she smiled slightly, and rubbed the glass with her index finger, petting him in her own way.
"Hey, silly too too," she said, in a soft high pitched voice. "I know you don't know much about me… I'm 19, but I feel older. I had an eating disorder and it never really goes away, but I'm stronger about it now. My mother left me and my dad and it really messed me up, and I was the most popular girl in school until my dad went and started dating the mother of my high school nemesis. So Sam and I became step sisters and even though I hated her I wanted her to like me for some unfathomable reason. We fought over everything and even though after a while we realized we kinda liked each other, we still didn't know how not to fight, and then I realized I was actually IN love with her and kinda gay and then I got hit by a car."
The fin rippled.
"I know. It's a total soap opera."
"Who are you talking to?"
Arching her neck and looking over her shoulder, she discovered Sam standing in the doorway, palms smoothing down her jeans. It looked like a nervous tick.
"The fish," Brooke replied, and then turned back to the computer, clicking out of the email. "What's up?"
Sam wavered, and Brooke felt curiously numb inside.
"I … um… okay…" Sam's face was flushed, ears tinted pink, and she began to poke her tongue outside her mouth, the very Sammy thing to do when she was unsure. "I just wanted to tell you that… if you're coming out to your dad today… I can be there."
Brooke stared at her. "Thanks."
Sam nodded, and began to step back, ready to leave her room. "You're welcome."
"Sam." Brooke glanced at the floor, and discovered her heart in an odd place, some sort of resignation that felt much like the place she was before… after the accident.
"Yeah?" Her crystal eyes must have looked exhausted, because Sam looked immediately concerned. "What's wrong?"
Brooke found herself suddenly overwhelmed, and she forced a smile. "I was thinking about taking a photography elective when I got back to school."
Sam looked completely confused, but had the good grace to go with it. "That's good, Brooke."
"Really?"
"Yeah, you're good at it. I mean, you made me look beautiful."
She managed a soft smile. "That's because you are beautiful, Sam."
Her expression was sincere, as her eyes locked onto Sam's and her beautiful lover wavered, mouth trembling before she smiled tightly.
"You're the beautiful one, Brooke. You always have been."
Sam was sitting on her bed, in the tension that filled the moment, Brooke remembered what they had done, how it had felt to take complete possession of Sam, and that was why it had changed everything.
"I don't know why it's so hard," she finally admitted. "I don't know why it's so easy to fight or to…" she glanced at the bed, and sighed raggedly, "And I can't say what I want to say to you. I don't know how."
Across from her, Sam just slumped back onto the bed.
"At least you're trying," she heard.
Brooke smiled darkly. "Are you getting back together with Rebecca?"
There was a long pause. "I don't know."
It was a fair answer, it was an honest answer, and yet even Brooke couldn't have understood why it disappointed her so much.
"She's comfortable, Brooke. She doesn't have… all … this."
"You can talk to her," Brooke said numbly.
A long, breathless sigh exhaled from her lover.
"I guess that's the trouble, right?" Brooke said, staring at her fingers. "I mean, with all this emotion comes all these extremes… that's all we're going to have."
"Brooke…" the words were choked. "It doesn’t mean…"
"No… it doesn't," Brooke agreed. "But it doesn't change the truth. There's so many feelings and words and ideas and situations piled on between us and everything's so new and raw and there's just so much change that we could keep doing this and just end up resenting each other for it because neither of us wants to give in."
"So where does that put us?"
"That's the point, I guess," Brooke answered, tired, sad. "There is no us." That said, she pushed off the chair and glanced at the stunned woman on her bed. Sam's expression was hard to gauge, but her eyes were moist, and Brooke never felt more in love than she did then. "I think you should get back together with Rebecca," she managed thickly, and then left the room.
--
Sam wasn't there when Brooke told her father, but then again, Brooke didn't really expect her to be. She wasn't sure what she expected, when she sat down at the kitchen table after dinner, with Jane on one side and Mike on the other.
Her father wore a tight half smile, and Brooke guessed he must have been afraid that maybe there had been some sort of complication with the coma, as the doctors had warned a year ago, or the eating disorder had reared its ugly head, or something equally frightening.
Brooke was fairly sure that when she finally admitted it was her sexuality on the table, Mike nearly had a heart attack in relief.
He doubled over, let out a long breath, and then without warning lunged across the table and gathered her so tightly in his arms she nearly choked.
"Oh, my baby girl," he breathed, as Brooke blinked, and gasped a little, and Jane looked at them both like she had just sat through a marathon of Steel Magnolias, Beaches, and Prince of Tides. "It's okay. It's okay. I love you!"
And that was quite possibly the most uneventful part of her coming out.
Brooke would adore her dad forever for it.
--
To: Alover@yahoo.com
From: Bmcqueen@usc.edu
Subject: Hey
Hi! To be honest I'm actually really glad to hear from you. I know it was a really awkward set of circumstances that brought us together, but I'm not going to regret that I met you. Maybe I would have done things a little differently but you forced a lot of change in me.
Well, maybe it wasn't just you, but because of you and what happened, I finally came clean about myself to Jane. I mean, granted, I was a sobbing hung over wreck when I did it, and I nearly caused a four lane accident, but I did it. And she was amazing about it. And then I ran into my old 'boyfriend' from high school and now he knows too. And I called my sorority sister and now she knows.
And then Sam came home and I came out to her, and well… that was more complicated. But despite all the weirdness with Sam, my dad now knows. You know a lot of things have happened to you if you're dad is actually relieved that the only 'problem' with you is that you're gay.
Anyway, that's kind of where I'm at right now. In the midst of a lot of change. I'm still in love with Sam, but I don't know what to do with that, now.
Wow, I'm sure this was more than what you wanted to hear, right? Sorry, I've come out to so many people in the last few days (even my new fish knows) that shutting up just doesn't seem to work around anyone but Sam.
It's weird. I know nothing is ever going to be the same again, and I don’t know how I feel about that. I want to be truly free, but even with all this weight taken off… there's still a tangle of complication.
I guess that's what happens when you're in love with your asshole stepsister.
Sorry for the long rambling thoughts, but it honestly really was great to hear from you. Do you have AIM? Maybe we can chat sometime.
Brooke
Oh, and tell Rebecca to kiss my ass.
--
"You know what? You're such an asshole, Brooke."
Glancing up from the book currently opened and laid out on her bed, Brooke barely had a chance to register that before Sam MacPherson charged into her room from the bathroom, jerking the door closed and then heading to her bedroom door, and flipping the dead bolt.
"What are you doing?"
"You're an asshole!" Sam repeated, looking like some furious warrior princess, brown eyes wide and blazing. "You give me some bullshit speech about how we can't ever communicate and then the second we start trying you shut it down."
Biting down on her lower lip, Brooke sat up, crystal eyes following the form of her lover as she began to pace her room, back and forth.
"I mean, FUCK, Brooke! You get into a coma and I do nothing but blame myself for months and then you wake up and pretty much turn into a completely bitch and ignore me for a year. Then you find out I'm gay and you spin some bullshit yarn about how sorry you are that you ignored me and tell me you want to make it up to me, and then when I, like an idiot, believe you and invite you to Spring Break with me, you go and hook up with FUCKING ABBY of all people and then tell me you're in the middle of a sexual identity crisis! And THEN instead of sticking around to actually face the shit vacation you just ruined you up and leave in the middle of the day, and make me look like a complete asshole to my friends and I had to have Abby, ABBY of all people, announce in front of everyone that you told her you're in love with me!" Brooke blinked, barely processing that bit of new information before Sam plowed on, shoving a furious finger in her direction. "And then, because I'm an IDIOT I tell Rebecca I'm worried about you and have to make sure you're okay and actually follow your ass over here, which cost me nearly a grand, by the way, money I HAVE TO CHARGE, I get here and Mom thinks I'M the asshole. And then you tell me you're suddenly gay and then your fish dies and when I try to comfort you, you make out with me! Knowing how I felt about you! And then you tell me you're in love with me and then just leave me with that! FUCK, Brooke!"
Furious tears had begun to slip down Sam's cheeks, and Brooke found herself aching suddenly at the sight of them.
"What was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to do, Brooke?! In a span of three days you take everything I thought I knew about you and you fling it out the window - how am I supposed to keep up?! You knew how I felt about you. You KNEW! You could have had me anytime you wanted and instead you wait until I'm fucked up and confused and angry and would do anything to just move ON from you." Pausing, Sam blinked, and turned back to her. "I'm sorry, Brooke, if I don’t know what to do. Up until last night I didn't EVER think I would ever sleep with you, and now I have and honestly? Yes, I love you. But I don't trust you. And it's still entirely fucked up! Our parents are married and you came out like, a minute ago and you're going to SC and I'm at Northwestern and we don't even LIKE each other half the time and it's a fucking mess. But it's not all my fault. Because you're an asshole."
In the aftermath of Sam's long, rambling confession, Brooke felt winded.
"Well," she said finally. "At least you're finally being honest."
Sam stared at her disbelievingly, and then suddenly, she began harsh, broken chuckle, and Brooke had no choice but to get off the bed and come forward, as tenderly as she could.
"Hey," she began, and Sam shook her head furiously, stepping away from her, as if she was afraid. "I don't want to hurt you, Sam," Brooke whispered. "I’m sorry that I'm broken. I'm sorry if I don’t know how to love you, but it didn't change the fact that I do."
"That doesn't mean much, Brooke," Sam sniffled, and Brooke smiled sadly at the truth of that.
"Sam, it doesn't change anything," she whispered softly. "If we had kept on not talking about it then last night would have just kept happening and that would be all we would know how to do. Fighting and... fucking." She winced, the word rancid on her tongue. "And God, Sam... what else could we have? I don't want to be a torrid secret we have to hide. I've done enough hiding."
"Brooke..." Sam stared at her, tear-streaked and still willful, and then suddenly her little lover moved into her arms and pressed her lips against hers, in a passionate, desperate embrace.
Just the touch of Sam, the feel of her, brought with it that electric jolt, and Brooke's instinct followed before her brain could catch up. Soft lips plundered her own, and a firm tongue swept inside her mouth to claim her own, in a dance of desperate passion.
It was too easy to fantasize that it was more than it was, when she let Sam push them both to the bed, until her knees hit the back of the bed, and she fell back, Sam falling with her, until she was on top.
Trembling fingers fumbled with her shirt, and Brooke sighed raggedly, lifting her torso from the bed to allow slender palms to slide up her ribs. The shirt went over her head, snagging on her chin and nearly choking her in the process, and Sam offered a short apology before she captured her lips again hotly and slid arms around Brooke, holding her tightly.
Painting a trail of kisses down her body, from her jaw to tip of her left breast, Sam sucked in a lungful of air.
It was a ragged breath, unsure, unsteady, and Brooke's head fell back when she felt Sam's mouth descend on her nipple.
Sam was right, she was an asshole. If she was anything else, she could have stopped it.
--
Curled into her, Sam was beautiful, tired. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was even, but her thumb rubbed alongside Brooke's, and when Brooke shifted, body still humming from the intense lovemaking, she shimmied closer, almost unconsciously.
Brooke watched her, utterly enraptured.
"I want to tell Jane and my Dad."
Sam's eyes fluttered open, and then closed again. "No, Brooke. It's not going to make it any easier."
"But it would make it real."
"It's not real enough?" came the whispered, raspy reply.
"No," Brooke responded, and leaned forward, thumbing a bang away from her lover's face. "Because I’m going back to my sorority and my school and you're going back to Northwestern and to Rebecca."
"You told me to go back to her."
Brooke's eyes shut tightly at the flat response. "I know. It's not that I want you to." Sam's eyes opened. "Sam, you saved my life."
"What are you talking about?"
Brooke kept her mouth purposely shut, and she buried her head further into the downy pillow and cursed her own weakness.
Tomorrow was going to change everything. She was going back to school and she was doing it as a lesbian. Stephanie was never one to keep things quiet, she was sure Maria knew, she was sure the whole sorority knew by now.
There was no going back, and everything was different and for the first time since the coma, Brooke felt reborn.
Sam was beside her: the unknown catalyst to Brooke's own private metamorphosis.
What had Brooke given her in return but her own confusion?
"Sam," Brooke whispered. "We'll figure this out."
"From across the country?"
"We seemed to do better over email and AIM, anyway."
"Healthy," Sam remarked dryly, eyes still closed, and Brooke blanched. It all left a sour taste in her mouth, and that was the last thing she ever wanted to associate with Sam.
-- end chapter