Title: Texan Heart

Author: LLE

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

Email: saturnchild@hotmail.com

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Sam/MC and yes, I have completely flipped my lid LOL

Disclaimer: Plot's mine, characters belong to some unknown persona who has absolutely no idea how lucky he/she is.

Distribution: Feel free, just drop me a line and tell me where I can find it.

Archive: www.realmoftheshadow.com/lle.htm

Author's Notes: I thought it'd been too long since we've seen everyone's favorite southerner on the list, so I decided to remedy that. Please don't ask me how I came up with it, cause I honestly have no idea LOL. The pairing's not one I've seen before myself, but hey, there's a first time for everything, no?

Part 1

Samantha McPherson was hunting. She wasn't walking in the wild with a gun at her side, looking for a deer. No, she was walking the halls of Kennedy High with a hand-held recorder as her weapon. The prey? A certain blonde southerner by the name of Mary Cherry.

Brooke had been so kind as to apologize to the brunette when she had found out that Sam had indeed not been responsible for covering the walls of Kennedy High with that horrid picture during last week's Homecoming Queen campaign. Sam had, with a little coaxing, managed to get the blonde to tell exactly who the culprit had been, and the brunette's journalistic instincts had immediately gone into overdrive. What a story! A teenager driven to desperate measures in order to live up to the standards of modern society, resorting to degradation of an opponent in order to win something as stupid as a popularity contest.

"Scoop ahoy." Sam muttered with a self-satisfied smirk as she saw a familiar blonde head duck inside the Novak.

The brunette walked up to the door and stepped inside, finding the room completely vacated except for a pair of Prada heels visible underneath one of the stall doors. She leaned against the sinks and waited patiently for the girl to finish whatever it was she was doing and step out of the stall.

A toilet flushing, the sound of spiked heels against the tile floor.

The soft click of a recorder being turned on.

The gentle creak of the handle turning and the stall door opening.

"Mary Cherry." Sam began, startling the blonde visibly. "What made you feel that you had to cheat in order to beat Brooke McQueen? And how did it feel when the victory still escaped your grasp?" The brunette held the recorder in front of the southerner's face and looked at the other girl expectantly.

"Oh mah Lord." Mary Cherry rolled her eyes. "What in tha name ahf Ms. Pal-trow haself do ya think you're doin' Spam?"

"Do you feel that modern society is pressuring teenagers to become more than they are?" Sam continued, ignoring the question.

Mary Cherry sighed softly and pushed a lock of blonde hair behind her left ear. "Just le-ave me alone an keep your scrawny little button nose outta mah business, `k?" The blonde turned to face the mirrors and proceeded to refresh her make up, eye shadow, mascara, lip gloss, the works.

"Have you given any thought as to why facades are so frequently used in the `in' circle today?"

Mary Cherry scowled at the brunette's reflection in the mirror. "No, Samantha." She drawled. "Ah have not given it tha slaightest thawt."

Sam rolled her eyes and clicked the recorder off. "You know, Mary Cherry." She said. "You could try to be a little bit more elaborate in your answers, I've worked very hard to prepare this interview and..."

"An' you are forgettin' something." Mary Cherry interrupted. "Ah did NOT agree ta do this little intarview ahf yours." The southerner tilted her head slightly and looked at the brunette as she turned around. "An'," she continued, "According to Law an' Orda', in this great land of ours, we ahlways have the raght to remain sa-lent."

"Oh good grief." Sam snorted. "You watch too much TV."

"Be that as it may," Mary Cherry said, crossing her arms over her chest, "if ah do not wish to tell tha world mah reasons for cheatin', you can't make me."

"But don't you think that the students of this school have a right to know why it is so important to you to be noticed by them?" Sam pressed as she walked over and stood in front of the cheerleader.

Mary Cherry sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Can we speak ahf tha record for a minute?" She asked.

"Um, sure." Sam replied, feeling a little confused. "Why not."

"Ah did not want ta be noticed bah the entire student body." The southerner admitted softly. "Just one student in par-ticular."

"Who is he?" Sam asked, trying to see the other girl's eyes in spite of the fact that Mary Cherry's head was bent. An unintelligible mumble was heard, and Sam shook her head slightly.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Ah said." The blonde lifted her head and looked the brunette straight in the eyes. "It's not a `he'."

"Oh." Sam said. "OH!" She repeated as the statement finally sank in. "Then who..."

Her question was cut short as Mary Cherry suddenly reached a hand behind Sam's neck and pressed their lips together. The brunette's entire body froze in surprise and shock at the unfamiliar feeling of another girl's lips on her own. But, her mind interrupted, it didn't feel half bad.

Sam closed her eyes and shivered involuntarily as the blonde placed a hand on her waist, bringing their bodies more firmly together. She felt herself beginning to relax into the kiss as incredibly soft lips moved slowly against her own.

The brunette felt Mary Cherry's hand move from the back of her neck to her chin, the pad of the blonde's thumb slowly caressing her cheek. Sam's lips parted of their own violation when the tip of a tongue probed and gained entrance to her mouth.

She had no idea what was happening to her. The control of her body seemed to have slipped right through her fingers, and her mind was running purely on instinct. Instinct, that made her respond enthusiastically to the blonde pressed up against her. Instinct, that made her trembling hands reach up slightly and place themselves on Mary Cherry's lower back. Instinct, that effortlessly pushed any conflicting thoughts out of her mind, focusing only on the soft body that seemed to melt into her own.

And then it was over. Mary Cherry released Sam's lips and, after running her fingertips along the brunette's jawline for the last time, stepped back. She fixed her gaze on the tile floor and wrapped her arms protectively around her midsection.

"Remember," She whispered hoarsely, "ahf tha record." Her head lifted and Sam found herself facing a pair of crystal clear, watery orbs. "Please?"

Sam nodded dumbly in response, too stunned by the recent event to trust her voice.

"Thanks." Mary Cherry muttered, giving Sam a faint, insecure smile before turning around and leaving the room in silence.

"No problem." Sam replied to the empty room as she tried to jumpstart her brain. "What the Hell was that?" She mumbled in wonder.

The brunette shook her head and checked herself in the mirror. After quickly wiping away the traces of Mary Cherry's lip-gloss, she left the Novak, her head bent slightly in deep thought.

This, she decided, needed some serious evaluation.

And maybe a few visits at the nearest shrink's office.

Part 2

"Sam?" Brooke knocked on the brunette's door softly. "Sam, are you in there?"

"I'm here Brooke, come on in."

Brooke opened the door and stepped into the room. Sam was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her back leaning against the side of her bed. A pensive frown drew her brows together in thought as the young reporter starred blankly out of the window.

"Hey." Brooke said quietly as she sat down next to her house-mate. "You ok?"

"Mhmm." Came the distant reply.



Brooke looked at Sam, not quite sure if the brunette was listening or not. "Sam, I've recently discovered that I have three butt-cheeks. Any advice?"



"Huh?" Sam blinked her eyes slowly, and turned her face towards the blonde. "I'm sorry Brooke, I guess I spaced out a little. What'd you say?"

"I asked you if you were ok." Brooke sighed. "You've been acting really weird the last three days. No scathing articles in the Zapruder, no crusading, no fighting. What happened to the Sam McPherson we all know?"

"I… I don't know." Sam rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I guess I've just had a lot to think about lately."

"Ok." Brooke nodded. "Anything you want to talk about?"

"Yeah." Sam expelled a breath and tilted her head back onto the bed, closing her eyes. "It might help to see things from a different perspective."

"Alright then. Mind if we do this sitting on your bed? The floor isn't really that comfortable."

"Sure." Sam raised herself onto the mattress and indicated that Brooke should do the same. The brunette then turned her back towards the headboard and flopped down on her back without grace being part of the move at any time.

Brooke knitted her brows as she looked at Sam. It wasn't like the reporter to be this quiet, this nonchalant about things, and it worried the blonde. Granted, she and Sam had hardly been friends, but after all that had happened to them, the fights, the shock of the parental revelation, the moving in together… Somewhere along that line, the two girls had gone from hate, to grudging acceptance, to caring for each other. Sisters? Friends? Oh no, not yet. But they were well on their way to getting there.

"Very vell, fräulein Macferson." Brooke adopted a really bad German accent, hoping to lighten the mood a little. "Vat made you come zee me?" She sat down on the opposite side of the bed, stretching her legs out and leaning back against the headboard.

Sam snorted and gave the blonde a slight grin. "Very funny."

"I thought so." Brooke smiled. "But seriously Sam, what's wrong?"

"I.." Sam looked at the ceiling, and her eyes became distant once again. "I was in the Novak, and this girl was in there. We talked for a little while, and out of the blue, she kissed me." The brunette unconsciously traced her own lips with a finger. "She kissed me." She repeated silently.

"I see." Brooke nodded slowly. "And this bothers you why? Did you like it?"

Sam raised her head slightly and looked at the blonde. "You mean you aren't going to yell at me and tell me that I'm evil and going to Hell?"

Brooke laughed softly. "Sam, I may be a cheerleader, but I'm not the devil incarnate."

"Nicole, on the other hand…" Sam squealed as a pillow connected with her mid-section.

"Quiet you." Brooke scowled playfully. "I'm talking here."

"Yes, Ma'am." Sam stuck out her tongue at the blonde, and quickly retracted said muscle when Brooke made a show of grabbing for it.

"Anyway, " Brooke tweaked Sam's nose, which earned her a well-deserved scowl, and leaned her head back against the wall. "I think the preaching part is more Mary Cherry's MO."

Sam quickly hid a smile. If she only knew.

"Did you like it when she kissed you?" Brooke asked again.

"I think I more than liked it." Sam folded her hands across her stomach. "It was really weird, the way I reacted. At first, I was all like "What the Hell is she doing?", you know? I just wanted to push her away but… My body wouldn't do it. I had to kiss her back. HAD to."

"So, you're worried that you might be a lesbian?" Brooke asked. "Is that it?"

Sam shook her head. "No, not really. I've known that I'm attracted to girls for a while now. I just…" The brunette paused, trying to arrange her thoughts. "I just never thought I'd be attracted to this girl. Never wanted to, actually."

"Well, the heart has a way of it's own." Brooke smiled.

"Thank you, Hallmark."

"Who is this girl anyway?" Brooke consciously ignored the little retort thrown her way.

"Can't tell you." Sam shrugged.

"Sam." Brooke sighed. "I know we're not exactly friends, but I think you know I'm not going to blab it all over the school that you're gay."

"That's not the point." Sam looked at the blonde. "I trust you Brooke, I really do. But I still can't tell you."

"Ok." Brooke relented. "Can you at least tell me why you can't tell me?"

Sam smiled softly. "Let's just say that it's off the record."


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