was anyone else off-put by the scene where tory first kissed miguel...well one because i don't ship them and he was rambling about sam...but also because tory said she "had a girlfriend" that ran a club...like old women say they "have a girlfriend", not teens...i seriously thought she was saying she had a girlfriend before kissing him lmao

@/Littlesycho15 on ao3:

"i saw you took request and all i could think was about that one time tory's lamdlord hit on her but what if he didnt stop and took it to far and like sam finds out and comforts tory."

I'm gonna mix things up here...this takes place in season three, but already includes the arc of Sam's mom trying to be nice to Tory so Tory feels compelled to go to the Larussos for help

~~~~~~~~~~

The night was a cold one, cold and wet and rainy as not a living thing moved outside. No, there was just the swooping wind, the aching trees, the sound of rushing water collecting and falling down the drain.

Anthony was spending the night at a friend's house, and her parents were on a date, so Samantha Larusso had the house to herself.

She liked it best this way. It wasn't as if she couldn't engage in her hobbies with people home, but it was quieter this way. Sam took a break from technology, sitting down with a fresh cup of tea with honey. She turned the fireplace on and played some piano music on her phone before delving into her newest book from the library, another romance novel. Just because her own love life was in shambles, that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy that of a fictional character's.

Just as she'd been comfortable for about thirty seconds, there was a knock at the door. Sam checked her phone for the time; no one should have been home yet. She cautiously went to the door, the picture unclear out the crystal window, so she answered the door.

Sam's blood went cold when she locked eyes with Tory, Tory looking equally surprised to see her, as if it wasn't her house.

"Um," Tory swallowed, looking beyond uncomfortable. Just as Sam began to process the wave of 'Tory, that's Tory, it's Tory' going through her head, she realizes the door is wide open for her to come in. Her dad, having grown up not well off, would lecture her about how much they pay for air and how she's letting it all out. As if they were on some kind of expensive spaceship to another world.

And it's otherworldly that Tory is on her front porch right now.

She said something, and Sam missed it. "Sorry, what?" She doesn't know why she's saying sorry. As she studied Tory, she saw she was sporting a bruise on her jaw, a cut on her cheek...another collection of bruises on her arm that resembled fingerprints, and--Sam tried not to stare--a cut in the fabric of her jeans, reveling the hem of pink underwear and another bleeding cut. Tory was trying to cover it with her hand, though, so Sam did the small mercy of moving her gaze to her face.

"I said," Tory seemed as if she was trying to avoid getting angry. "Is your mom home?"

"Oh," Sam said, and she feels stupid and dumbstruck. "No, she's...not. She and my dad went out." And she figures it probably wasn't best to tell her karate rival that she's home alone, but she just did. Sam's eyes narrow as she gives Tory a suspicious look. "Why do you need my mom?"

Tory sighed, looking around warily. "Forget about it, I guess I'll get out of your hair--" she turns to leave, but Sam grabs her sleeve, and Tory smacks her hand away as if on instinct. They both still for a moment as Tory catches her breath. She looks like a hunted animal, and Sam thinks her heart must be racing in her chest--she knows her own is.

"You're bleeding," Sam says, blunt and dumb. "And it's pouring out there...anything my mom could have helped you with--if you wanted my mom's help--I'm sure I can help you with..." She doesn't know why she's offering, but she is. Tory may have given her the worst first day at school, but Sam wouldn't just leave her like this, if this really was her last resort. If her mom could trust Tory, or was helping her somehow, that must mean she wasn't irredeemable.

"It's just blood," Tory insisted. "I won't die." But even then, she looks compelled. Sam's calming piano music is still playing in tune with the falling rain, and Tory's gaze flitters from Sam's book and teacup to the fireplace. Then her eyes were back on Sam, and Sam couldn't get a read on her.

"Is it?" Sam finds herself asking. "Is it just blood?" She doesn't know what she's implying, then. Whatever backstory is behind this, Sam doesn't know, but it has to be more than a schoolyard fight.

Tory scoffed--even in defeat, she was pissed--and came in the door. Sam thinks for a moment that this is some kind of sick joke or trick. But then she sees how Tory folds in on herself, cradling her arm with caution towards the bruise. Tory had never been like that before, almost shy, and it was unnatural; Sam almost wanted her to pick a fight.

Sam instead went to the supply closet in the nearby hallway, getting the first aid kit. It had long since been covered in dust--it hadn't been put to use since Anthony scraped his knee while learning to ride a bike. She put it on the kitchen island, well aware of Tory's eyes watching her. She opened it up, pulling out what she would need, her hands shaking slightly. She wasn't scared of Tory--she knew she could take her in a fight, and Tory didn't look like she could even start a fight. It was the entire thing--kissing Miguel, the school fight, Miguel in the hospital with no idea if he'd walk again. And now, with the whole mess, Sam was sure she had no feelings for Miguel or Robby. Tory was the least of it--and if her feelings weren't so intense, perhaps she could place them more eloquently.

"Sit down," Sam said gently, hoping Tory didn't hear it like an order. "Do you like tea?"

Tory sits, but shakes her head. "I'm good." She says simply. Her stomach rumbles, and she looks away towards some painting on the wall. It was from 'Carmilla', her mom's favorite novel back in college.

"We have food, if you want some," Sam offers. She sees no other way she could have offered, even if it would embarrass Tory. She came over, tilting Tory's head up to look at her, only to clean the cut on her cheek.

"I could've done that," Tory protested weakly, and yes, she could have. Sam didn't know now why she did it, only that she did.

"Too late," Sam replied, and she looked into the first aid kit for the smaller Band-Aids. "Do you want Clifford, or Sesame Street?" She holds up both of the boxes with a polite smile.

Tory managed to smile back. "Sesame Street. My brother...he loved that show, when he was younger. He's seven now, more into Transformers and stuff." She looks confused for a moment before sighing. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this." She paused as Sam placed the Band-Aid on her cheek, and Sam could feel her cheeks flush against her fingertips. "I gave him the leftovers, from the skating rink..." She met Sam's eyes for a moment, and it connected; that was why she was hungry. Sam wondered when the last time she ate was.

"I was about to make some mac-n-cheese, if you want some." Sam offered. It was a lie, technically. She had already made herself dinner, but had leftovers in the fridge. Sam had the sneaking suspicion that Tory wouldn't take food from her outright; she had to make it look convenient.

As if proving her theory, Tory nodded, and Sam went to reheat some food. Strangely enough, Sam had the urge to make her something nicer, but that would require more time. She didn't even know why this kind urge was overwhelming her, but when she looked over at Tory...she was hugging her knees, hiding her face. She shivered, sighed, and hesitantly relaxed again at the table, taking care of the cut on her leg.

Sam brought the leftovers to the table in two separate bowls, and they ate together in silence.

"Does my mom do this for you often?" Sam finally asked, sensing it was a sensitive subject, but unable to help her curiosity. She was told she got that from her dad.

Tory seemed to prickle in response, a human porcupine. "No. She just told me to come over if I needed something. I think she just wanted to get us to stop fighting."

"That makes sense," Sam said simply. Another long silence filled only with forks against bowls occurred between them. "I am, you know...sorry. For kissing Miguel."

Tory prickles again, her eyebrows furrowing, but it seems as though she doesn't want to ruin what's happening. She just shrugs. "You were pretty drunk...you don't really know how to hold your liquor..."

Sam laughs softly at that, taking a sip of water. Tory noticed the glass Sam brought out for her as well, and she took a sip as well. It's then that she spots an odd-looking tally mark array of scars on her arm.

"Is that from...?" Tory starts, but she doesn't need to finish the question. Sam met her eyes, looking down at the scars and back up at her. She nodded, an undeniable pain in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she uttered, thinking it for the first time since the moment after it happened. Having Samantha Larusso's blood on her hands unfortunately didn't make the pain of Miguel kissing her any better. "I should have just kicked Miguel's ass...and yours, too, but...less so..."

Sam's lips quirk at that, something of a half smile. "I...I forgive you, Tory. I'm not about to invite you to a slumber party or anything, but...thank you." She looks at the bruise of fingerprints on Tory's own arm before their eyes met once more. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Tory shook her head at first, then nodded, then shrugged. "It's just...I was fending for myself just fine, scraping by with enough hours, but it turned out I was still short on rent. My landlord, he...he's a real creep. He cornered me, asking me for...well, something besides money. He pulled a pocket knife on me and assaulted me, in every way you could use the word. I managed to beat him back before he could go too far, but..." she laughs, hollow and soft, but her eyes are distant and brimming with tears. "...he already went too far when he put his hands on me..."

Samantha felt that pool of molten dread in her stomach, one every woman feels at these kinds of stories. All the precautions in the world cannot protect someone from the entitlement of men, and they shouldn't have to; no teen in an apartment should have to worry about scraping together rent, and how they'll be exploited if they cannot. She thought about Kyler, how he'd harassed her with rumors (how he was applauded for getting a hypothetical blowjob, while she was slut-shamed) and tried to touch the inside of her thighs before she fended him off. It was an issue that went beyond race, or class, or anything (though Tory was even more exposed because of her predicament), it was but the universal punishment for being a woman.

"Tory..." Sam started, but Tory got up and went to the living room, and Sam followed.

"I should leave," Tory sniffed, clearly trying to keep a brave face. "Thank you for the Band-Aids, and the mac-n-cheese, but--"

"You shouldn't have to go back there--"

"I have to, Sam. It's not like I can find a cheaper place, really..."

"We can figure something out," Sam insisted. "My mom, she knows a landlord that owns a place on the edge of Reseda. You came looking for her, and I'm sure she'd say the same thing, anyway. You should at least talk to her when you can--"

"Hey, Sam?" Tory asked, her voice wavering, uncertain. It was as if, if she couldn't say it in that moment, she wouldn't say it at all. "When I leave here, will things be different? Or will they be the same as before I came here?"

Sam pauses, but it only took her a moment to think on it. "It'll be different. My mom and I--we'll help you...and it's not like we can fight at school anymore...I'll make sure that things get better. Just..." she reaches out, but just as her fingers brush against Tory's, they both pull away, as if shocked by static. "Stay here for the night? It'd make me feel better than you having to go home to all that."

Tory looks disbelieving. "What about your parents?"

"I can...try to explain everything to them. They'll probably say I'm doing the right thing, and even if they didn't...I don't care. I wouldn't wish what you went through on my worst enemy." Sam replied. And even if Tory is supposed to be her worst enemy, she doesn't care. Not now.

Tory nodded, her eyes distant as she sat down on the couch. "Thank you," she said, softly, as if she wouldn't mean it if she said it with conviction.

"Of course," Sam remains quiet, and she doesn't say anything as Tory grabs the TV remote and picks out something to watch. She wonders, between the jobs and karate and school if she ever has any downtime. If she did, if they did, what would they do?

Sam likes the idea of that, finding something to do with Tory. And it's so strange, and she knows there are long, serious conversations to be had. As she looks at Tory, though, her cartoon Band-Aid uncharacteristic on her face, she couldn't care less. Tory was smiling slightly at some joke on some sitcom, and Sam was glad she could find it in her to smile. She looked pretty when her smile was soft and not a sneer.

Sam lost track of what they were watching. When Tory asked if she liked the show, Sam didn't have an answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i dunno if it's obvious in this one shot or not but i really like. women. (i get a little sad tbh bc i want a girlfriend but i also don't want to be emotionally vulnerable with a person ahaha trust issues gang rise up--)

anyways. i'm glad i could get this done. i was always talking about how i wanted to write stuff with women bc the sanders sides characters were all guys, and then i kept writing mlm stuff...but wlw is refreshing, it's just too bad this one was so angsty. perhaps i'll write a fluffy one of this or sam/moon or something

ciao,

~mw