(Glee, Sam/Mercedes) and she keeps calling me back again
Title: and she keeps calling me back again
Author: vnilla
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Sam/Mercedes
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5188
Summary: Sam's head over heels for Mercedes. Things get complicated from there, but it's all good in the end.
Author's Notes: So this is basically just a love letter to one of Glee's cutest couples. Much love to everyone who encouraged me throughout the writing process! Title from The Beatles' "I've Just Seen A Face."
When Sam opens the door, he can't help the ridiculous grin that spreads across his face. The smile remains for all of three seconds before Sam forces it away, partially out of self-consciousness (he's heard enough about his lips for seven lifetimes, thanks) and partially out of... well, self-consciousness of a different kind. "I thought Quinn was coming over," he blurts, then gives himself a mental kick in the head. "Um, not that I'm not happy to see you."
Mercedes just laughs and shakes her head. "Her mom wanted to have a girls' day out all of a sudden." And nothing more needs to be said there: they both know that Quinn's relationship with her mother is still fragile, especially after she failed to take home the crown for prom queen. Which is the stupidest reason to be disappointed in your daughter that he's ever heard, but Sam can't blame Quinn for clinging to what family she has left.
Plus, it means he gets to spend the day with Mercedes, who is so awesome he might have to invent his own alien language to describe her.
"Sammy, you should let her in," Stacy says from behind him.
"Um, right." Sam steps aside.
Mercedes flashes a smile at Stacy. "Sorry I'm not Quinn, sweetie. We'll still have a good time."
"Can I wear your prom dress? I need to practice for my debut." Ever since the glee club adopted his family, Stacy has had one goal in life: becoming a famous singer who wears sparkly dresses. Sam opens his mouth to prevent yet another soul from falling before Stacy's Bambi eyes, but Mercedes just arches an eyebrow in response. Stacy sighs and says, "Fine, I'll go get my sneakers."
Stevie emerges from his stack of library books long enough to cheer, "I love the park!"
"I have little cousins," Mercedes says in response to Sam's impressed look. "After the third time I had to babysit through a sugar high, I learned how to say no." She nods in the direction of the pink binder on the desk, colored tabs sticking out of it. "We're going to the park after Quinn and Rachel made that guide to free things to do in Lima?"
"I'm saving it for summer." Sam grins. "Plus I'm afraid of what they might do to me if I spill Coke on it or something." She laughs at that, and Sam feels like a rock star. Oh, he has it so, so bad. He's always thought Mercedes was pretty, but ever since he saw her do the robot at prom, his heart does weird little flips whenever she's around. Well, okay, it has to do with more than that: it's her spark, it's what strikes the fire of her singing and the warmth of her personality. All Sam wants to do is let Mercedes light up his life.
Of course, Sam has no intention of acting on these feelings, seeing as how he can't even buy gum right now.
"I'm ready to go!" Stacy shouts, bouncing her way across the room. Stevie places a bookmark carefully in his book, but once the book is set aside, he's as bouncy as his little sister.
"I'd be honored if you would join me," Sam says in a faux British accent, offering Mercedes his arm. To his surprise, she doesn't just laugh at him, she takes the proffered arm in hers.
He's pretty sure that he's smiling all the way to the park.
*
"Why did they even name it the Holy Roman Empire if it was none of those things?"
"No idea," Sam answers, grateful for the distraction from his biology homework. Most people think English is his least favorite subject, what with all the reading, but Ms. Williams at least remembers that her class involves a lot of words and gives him books on tape. Mr. Levoy is awful about providing the right accommodations for his dyslexia, but his parents really don't have time to bring a complaint to the principal right now. As long as he's passing bio (thank you, Quinn and Mike), he's fine.
Stevie hops onto the motel bed, wiggling his way under Sam's arm. "Do you want me to read you your homework again?"
Sam goes scarlet. The last thing he wants Mercedes to know is that his kid brother gives him homework help. In fact, that's why Stevie is such a great reader: he's been reading textbooks to Sam for three years. "I think this stuff is a little out of your league, buddy," Sam manages through his utter mortification. It's also true, because a high school biology textbook is too chock full of jargon, even for someone as smart as Stevie.
Mercedes sets her pencil on top of her history notebook. "Do you want me to read it to you?" she asks, like this is perfectly normal. Sam guesses he must have made some kind of face, because she averts her eyes and adds, "If you need it."
It's been a long time since Sam has been embarrassed to talk about his learning disability, but it's different with Mercedes. She and the rest of New Directions have already seen so many of his painful secrets. It's only a lifetime of You're a smart boy, Sammy, and you have nothing to be ashamed of that lets him swallow and say, "That'd be great, thanks."
Mercedes takes the textbook from him and begins reading: "In plants and algae, photosynthesis takes place in organelles called chloroplasts. A typical plant cell contains about 10 to 100 chloroplasts. The chloroplast is enclosed by a membrane. This membrane is composed of a phospholipid inner membrane, a phospholipid outer membrane, and an intermembrane space between them. Um, Sam, I don't know how much help I'm gonna be. I took bio last year and it still doesn't make any sense."
But Sam's pencil is flying across his worksheet, which is thankfully just an unlabeled chloroplast diagram with space on the bottom to write the definitions of all the terms. "I've got a picture to go with the words. I'll be okay." Sam's always been great at using pictures to figure out what something says--it's why it took his elementary school so long to catch on to his reading struggles. Hearing biology brought to life in the golden voice of Miss Mercedes Jones doesn't hurt, either. Noticing Stevie peering at his work, Sam adds, "There are tons of these little guys in leaves. They help the plants turn the sun into food." Even Stacy wanders over from coloring to investigate, though she takes one look at the illustration and pronounces it gross.
Once Sam's done with bio, he grills Stevie on his times tables just to prove he doesn't totally suck at school. Stevie basks in the attention, of course. Halfway through showing him the finger trick for the nine times tables, Sam looks up to find Mercedes looking at him, the smile on her face so soft that just for a second, he feels like he can reach out and touch it.
*
After auditions, Sam takes one look at her face and says, "Let's take a walk."
Mercedes isn't exactly a wallflower, so when ten minutes have passed and she still hasn't said anything, Sam decides to fill in the silence as best he can until she's ready to talk. He ends up rambling about how Empire Strikes Back is totally the best Star Wars movie, but he has trouble picking a favorite movie because Return of the Jedi is, like, where all the themes come together and he gets a lump in his throat every time Darth Vader saves Luke. He's halfway through an anecdote about Halloween and a disastrous light saber battle when Mercedes clears her throat.
"I have the feeling we're not here to talk about Star Wars, even if I demand to see pictures of little you dressed up like Luke Skywalker," Mercedes says with a small smile. She's so pretty just standing on a sidewalk with the sun on her face that Sam swallows the urge to tell her she's beautiful. Judging by the look on her face at prom, she doesn't hear that nearly enough.
On impulse, Sam takes her hand and squeezes it. "Hey, you don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. I'm happy to tell you all my dark secrets." Before he has time to panic about what he's just done, Mercedes squeezes his hand back.
"Jesse and Mr. Schue loved my song. I could see it in their faces. But then Jesse called me out for never practicing. He said I was lazy." There's a catch in her voice on the last word. "Like usual, Mr. Schue didn't do anything."
Sam almost walks across the street during a green light, he's so pissed. "One: Jesse St. James is a dick who doesn't know anything about you. Aren't you, like, the junior manager of your church choir? Plus you spend a ton of time helping my family. Lazy is the last word I'd use to describe you." Sam is totally going to--well, not punch Jesse the next time he sees him, but there will be definite death glares, no matter how much Rachel likes him. "Two: Mr. Schue is a nice guy, but he's kind of a bad teacher."
That last comment earns him a snort. "Kind of? Everybody at McKinley knows you can walk all over Mr. Schue. It's like, I know he loves us and he loves glee club, but his rehearsals are a joke compared to my choir's. As much as I hate to admit it, the club would fall apart without Rachel."
They pause at yet another red light. Sam risks a glance down at their intertwined fingers--if she's not pulling away, he's sure as hell not going to. "You and Rachel should be the co-captains next year. I mean, you two are the powerhouses, and I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit."
After a long pause, Mercedes says, "I never do." She's staring at the street sign across the road like it can answer all of life's mysteries. "It's like, Mr. Schue has his featured soloists until the end of time, so why should I bother? Why should I put myself out there when our competition lead always goes to Rachel? Girlfriend can sing, but I'm just as good. Santana is just as good. Tina doesn't think so, but she's just as good, too. Rachel told me once to go out and take the lead from her, but I shouldn't have to work twice as hard as she does." When she looks back at Sam, her eyes are bright with unshed tears. "Sorry. I guess I never let myself say it out loud before."
As gently as he can, Sam says, "Maybe you should talk about this with Mr. Schue. Heck, even if he doesn't listen, you know that Rachel will. She's your friend."
Mercedes shakes her head. "Schue will never change, and I don't want Rachel picking when I get solos. What we really need is a voting system that won't turn into a popularity contest." They turn the corner, and they're almost at Mercedes' house. "You might be right about the co-captain thing."
"Might? Someone's gotta keep Schue and Rachel from giving the lead guy vocals to Finn," Sam replies, only half-joking. Okay, only a quarter joking. Artie and Puck and Kurt can pretty much sing circles around the rest of the guys, himself included.
Part of Sam wants to push on, to get Mercedes to rally the others and sort out the club's rampant problems once and for all, but they've just started up the path to Mercedes' door, and for now, they've gone far enough. Her fingers are tangled in his, a warm promise of something he thought he would never feel again, and Sam says, "Mercedes--" before realizing he has no idea how to finish that sentence.
"Sam," she echoes, and puts one hand on the doorknob. Sam wants to kiss her so badly that the tips of his fingers tingle with the need to pull her close, to touch. The cliche of the situation isn't quite perfect--it's broad daylight and they're coming home from school, not a date--but they've been warping cliche since this whole thing began with three friends going to prom.
So he's not surprised, exactly, when Mercedes changes her mind, letting go of the doorknob to tug him down for a kiss instead. It's just a brief brush of her lips against his, except there's nothing just about it, the warmth of her skin and the softness of her mouth and one hand in his and the other hand wrapped up in his shirt, oh God.
Mercedes smiles up at him, he's just been kissed by Mercedes Jones, and she says, "It's half an hour before you have to pick up Stevie and Stacy, right?"
They're going to have to talk about this eventually, but now is super not the time.
*
Sam's not really a big city guy, but everyone is so excited about New York that he's grinning ear to ear within fifteen minutes of leaving the airport. He tries not to listen in on Mercedes discussing must-see places with Kurt and Rachel, but he gives up the pretense when not even Angry Birds is enough to distract him.
"Are you okay? You're usually a lot better than that." Tina broke off making out with Mike long enough to see him putting his phone away, apparently. Then Sam feels bad for thinking that (even if it's true), because Tina is totally his geek bro, except she's not a bro, and he should probably stop staring at Mercedes before Tina figures it all out.
"I'm kinda worried that we have no setlist for the competition," Sam says, because that's the other issue weighing on his mind. Whenever they win, it seems like pure accident. Coach Beiste is always telling the football team that talent can only get you so far, and winning comes from always pushing yourself to be better. He's pretty sure that applies to everything, including singing competitions.
"That's just how we roll," Mike says, but he looks uneasy as well. New York is so big, and they're a bunch of kids from the middle of nowhere.
"Oh, shut up. You practice dancing all the time," Tina replies, and kisses his ear. It's adorable. It's revolting. Jealousy makes Sam's heart clench. Mercedes wants to talk to Quinn before they make it official (and he wants to talk to her as well, to be honest), but she's afraid of what Quinn will think, and there's some complicated history there that Sam still doesn't understand. All it means is that they're stuck in the land of secret romance, which always blows up in the movies and the comic books and pretty much every story ever.
Sam's not handling this whole thing all that well.
He spends most of the time leading up to the competition distracting himself with one thing or another. Between Finn's disastrous attempt to win over Rachel and working on song material, he's not doing that bad a job. Rachel shows surprising tact when rejecting his original song composed in Na'vi, saying something about hosting a novelty song revue during the summer. Kurt's pretty excited about that, but everyone else has no idea what she means.
(Sam wrote the song about Mercedes. If he can't tell the world, he can at least tell it to imaginary blue aliens.)
The whirlwind of it all simultaneously repels him and wraps him up: churn out two songs, memorize the harmonies, slap together some choreography, throw on their costumes, and make their final prep for the stage. They have, like, half an hour to contemplate Mr. Schue's Broadway departure before Schue shows up with a change of heart. Now Sam is onstage when it seems like five minutes ago he was still trying to remember all the words to "Pretending."
Okay, that actually was was five minutes ago. Sam sings a little of the bridge to himself, trying not to think about just how many people are in the audience. To his left, Lauren is writing some of the lyrics on Puck's hand, and it helps a little to know that he's not the only one.
"Hey." Sam knows the feel of those fingers through his, and the giddy rush takes the edge off his nervousness. Mercedes squeezes his hand once, twice, three times. "Break a leg," she tells him, like one friend to another, and he has to wrap an arm around her in a brief hug just to feel her heartbeat.
"You're amazing," he tells her, because Mercedes Jones has never needed luck to sing.
They go out and they give it their all, because New Directions might do everything at the last minute, but the club puts its heart and soul into everything it does. Sam almost stops breathing in the terrifying seconds of silence after Finn and Rachel kiss, but the show goes on and they're on fire in "Light Up the World." When Brittany is bending the laws of physics and Artie is serenading the audience, Sam risks a glance at Mercedes and thinks that maybe they have a shot at winning after all.
(He regrets that moment of optimism after it all goes down, because it makes their loss all the more bitter. At the same time, what he remembers most about New York isn't the hotel room or Central Park or the tears on the ride to the airport: it's Mercedes throwing her arms around him in front of thousands of people, both of their faces beaded with sweat from a job well done.)
*
"What did you think of the movie, Secret Boyfriend?"
Sam grins at the nickname. "It was awesome, Secret Girlfriend." Mercedes had been horrified to hear that Sam called himself a Heath Ledger fan and had never seen 10 Things I Hate About You. She promised him it was one of the good romantic comedies, and of course she's right. Letters to Cleo is still playing over the credits. Mercedes' head is resting on his shoulder, he's got a half-full bag of Cheetos next to him, his brother and sister are asleep, and all is well with Sam's world.
The glow of contentment fades a little after Mercedes starts fidgeting next to him, picking at the loose threads on the blankets. Taking pity on her, Sam asks, "What's on your mind?"
"I know that we have to talk to Quinn." Sam blinks. Well, that was unexpected. Not unwelcome, but definitely unexpected. "The other day when we ran into Kurt and Blaine... Everyone's going to figure it out. Quinn deserves to hear it from us."
"I mean, I know I'm studly and all, but I don't think she'll take it too hard," Sam says, trying to lighten the situation a little. "She's been great with helping me out." He knows Mercedes is a little jealous that Quinn still helps out with the babysitting, and Sam hasn't quite found the words to explain that he needs this. Watching Quinn play with Stevie and Stacy goes a long way to patching up the ragged hole she left in his heart. He'll never think of her in that way again, but he needs to be able to like Quinn. She's a good person underneath all those scars.
Mercedes rolls onto her side and kisses his cheek, natural as sunshine on leaves. God, he is so head over heels for this girl, this amazing girl. "It's more like--okay. Did I ever tell you that I was there when Quinn had Beth? I was there because she asked for me." Mercedes closes her eyes. "We used to be like sisters, then she moved back in with her mom and stopped talking to me. I know she wants to forget everything that happened last year, but she's forgotten me, too. I miss her so much." Her voice wavers, but holds steady at the last moment. "I don't want our first real conversation in ten months to be about me stealing her ex-boyfriend."
Sam traces aimless little patterns on her back. "Any kind of real conversation is a start," he says at last. "I don't know if things will ever be the same--my friends in my old town haven't been that great about keeping in touch--but the girl who lets Stacy do her hair and won't let anybody beat her at Scrabble is the real Quinn. You know that the real Quinn will listen to you. She'll listen to us, because we're all part of the same weird, kind of incestuous family."
Mercedes laughs at that last comment. "Let's meet up with her tomorrow," she says, voice firm, and Sam has to kiss her for that, really kiss her. They have to keep things PG with small children asleep in the next bed over, not to mention Sam's parents due back any minute, but it isn't too scandalous to press a line of hot, slow kisses down Mercedes' neck, right? Right.
"I am so happy I met you," Mercedes purrs, contented as a cat.
"I'm so happy you did, too," Sam replies, switching from kissing to nuzzling. She whacks him with a pillow. "Hey!"
"Just 'cause you're cute doesn't mean you can get fresh."
"I am both so fresh and so clean."
It turns out to be a good thing that their make-out session dissolves into giggles, because it's right then that Sam's parents get home, looking exhausted but grateful to find everyone there in one piece.
*
Just before Quinn sits down at the table with her latte, Sam takes Mercedes' hand under the table and says, "You got this." Because as much as he's a big part of this, too, Sam knows that Mercedes is the one running this show; it's Mercedes who has been missing Quinn for an entire year.
"Here's hoping," Mercedes says. Quinn gives her an odd look as she sits down. She does the usual Quinn thing of arranging herself in as flattering a position as possible, fluffing the shortened ends of her hair like she's still getting used to the haircut. It's only then that Quinn takes a sip of her latte.
"So, um, how have you been?" Mercedes asks, voice soft.
Quinn shrugs, lowering her eyes. "Adjusting to the life of a loser still, I guess. I mean, we lost last year, too, but I had a plan to get it all back." She drums her fingers on the table a few times, then gives a thin chuckle. "I don't think I'll get a third chance."
"Well, your real friends miss you." Quinn's gaze flicks up at that. Sam just keeps sipping the coffee he can't taste as Mercedes continues, "I miss you. You were like the sister I never had, and I'm sorry--" Mercedes swallows. "I'm sorry that I let us grow so far apart. I'm sorry that it took so much for me to try talking to you again."
"Oh, don't pretend it's your fault." The words are angry, but Quinn's voice is dull, all that anger directed inward. "I was the one wrapped up in the teen movie fantasy. So what, did you come to ask for my forgiveness? Because believe me, Mercedes, there's nothing to forgive."
"I--we--asked you here because you deserve to be the first to know that Sam and I are dating."
Quinn goes perfectly, horribly still at that revelation, her eyes locked on the tabletop. Sam sets down his cup of coffee because he emptied it without noticing, and the clink of china is like a gunshot in the silence over the table. Mercedes has a death grip on Sam's hand, gripping him so hard his fingers might meld together, but hey, whatever she needs. He's as much a part of this as she is.
"Oh," Quinn breathes, and then gives them a tremulous smile. It hurts to watch her pull herself together like that, but at the same time, this is the happiest she's looked since posing solo for a prom photo. "You didn't have to do that, Mercedes." She looks over at him. "Sam."
"You're still our friend," Sam says, with sudden, fierce conviction. "I know you've made a lot of mistakes, but we've all had a hard year." And that's all of it in a nutshell: the club has had a rough year, and at the end of it, what they're left with is each other.
Mercedes lets go of Sam's hand so she can walk around the table, pulling Quinn into her arms. Quinn sniffles, but she's still smiling, still lets Mercedes hold her. "Girl, I can't go through another year without you. You just say the word if you need time, but I'm gonna be right there waiting when the time's up."
"Stop making me cry in public," Quinn says, then lets out an actual hiccup. Sam considers making a strategic retreat to the counter, under the guise of getting napkins to use as tissues, but then Quinn bursts into startled laughter. "Oh my God, Sam, the panic on your face."
"He's still a little scared of girls," Mercedes says, reaching out to give him an affectionate poke in the ribs. "It's okay, we like you anyway."
"I think I'm handling this just fine, thank you," Sam retorts, purposely ruining the effect by saying it in his Sean Connery voice.
"Are you sure that you want that?"
"Dorkiness I can handle, especially when it looks like that."
"Um, sitting right here."
The world's most awkward coffee date ends up not being awkward at all, barring the first ten minutes. Mercedes and Quinn pretty much ignore Sam except for the occasional teasing, but he's content to just listen to two of his favorite ladies fill each other in on an entire year of their lives. They have such an easy, natural rapport that Sam wonders how they ever fell out of being friends in the first place. It's kind of like Superman and Batman up in here, if both were hot and talented girls instead of superheroes.
When Mercedes goes up to get a refill, Quinn just stares at him with this soft expression. Sam squirms a little bit on the inside, because seeing her like this is weird. "Be good to her," Quinn says. "I know you will, but--be good to her."
"You have my word of honor," Sam says, giving her a fistbump. There's still a lot of sadness in Quinn's eyes, but this right here--this gives him hope.
*
Telling the others is easy after they tell Quinn. Puck and Lauren each give them congratulatory noogies, because they are the same deeply weird and violent person. Brittany, Mike and Tina demonstrate a suspicious lack of surprise. Finn is equally unsurprised, but Sam suspects that has less to do with his keen powers of observation and more to do with--well, his lack of any observation skills whatsoever. Artie replies with, "Word UP, dog." Santana's response is less flattering: "Don't let him swallow you." Rachel's is probably the most comical reaction: unable to decide who to hug first, she just bounces up and down while squealing about being the greatest matchmaker ever.
Kurt, predictably, alternates between shouting, "I knew it!" and hugging the life out of Mercedes. Blaine shakes his hand and says, "I guess we'll be seeing a lot of you." He inclines his head. "They'll want coffee double dates."
"Cool," Sam replies. (It's less cool when Kurt pulls him aside to tell him that he'll break Sam's kneecaps if he ever breaks Mercedes' heart. "My dad has been making me take self defense lessons. I will end you," Kurt says, deadly serious. Which, fine, look out for your best friends and all, but don't scare your other friends in the process.)
The entire club (plus a few others) ends up having a picnic in the park one beautiful summer day, because Rachel called Kurt called Mercedes called Quinn called Puck called Santana, and on and and on down the phone chain. Sam gives Mercedes a kiss when she sits down next to him on their blanket, bearing enough chips to keep his ravenous siblings occupied for the next fifteen minutes. Her mouth is warm and tastes like Dr. Pepper.
"Gross," Stevie says, at the same time Stacy shrieks, "Ewwww!"
"I agree, little dudes," Santana says, but she looks too content to be mean. Brittany's giving her a pedicure, face screwed up in concentration. He's glad for Santana's sake that they're friends again. (It's sort of his deal, being nice to his exes.)
Kurt and Rachel heave the same theatrical sigh at the same moment, which is honestly creepy. "It's so nice to spend the day with loved ones," says Kurt, beaming. Sam's pretty sure he and Rachel were responsible for the matching checkered picnic blankets. Quinn, however, was the one to provide the precisely cut sandwiches.
"Your face is a loved one," Puck says, voice muffled by his current position, which is facedown on the ground, basking in the sun.
"Puck, that doesn't even make sense," scoffs Quinn.
"I think it does, in a weirdly sweet way." Blaine grins. "I hope I don't have a rival for Kurt's affections, though." Kurt bumps his shoulder against Blaine's in response. Sam didn't think anyone could ever rival Mike and Tina for the world's cutest couple, but there's a serious competition in the works.
"I'm so happy for them," Mercedes murmurs next to him, and Sam holds her hand in front of everyone just because he can. The smile on her face goes from ear to ear. "And I'm happy for us, of course."
Sam kisses her again. He's pretty sure he could kiss Mercedes every minute of every hour and never get tired of it. Which is a silly and ridiculous and altogether sappy thought to have, but that's kind of what romance is all about.
"Perhaps you should perform a duet for us," says Rachel, which is enough to make Mercedes turn her head to give her an amused look.
"Maybe we should be the soloists at next year's sectionals," Mercedes says. "I have a few ideas." Rachel lights up like a lantern at the mention of next year's competition, and the two spend the next few minutes in amiable bickering over what new direction to take New Directions. Sam listens as he keeps an eye on Stevie and Stacy, who are currently preoccupied with digging up an anthill.
"Maybe we should write a song about changes," Sam muses aloud.
"I like it," Mercedes says. Their hands are still joined, connection beating between them like a heart, or a song. Sam looks at his incredible girlfriend, at the friends surrounding them, at his brother and sister, and thinks that yeah, they've all had a rough year, but they've made it through together.
"I like you," Sam says, and squeezes her hand.
Author: vnilla
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Sam/Mercedes
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5188
Summary: Sam's head over heels for Mercedes. Things get complicated from there, but it's all good in the end.
Author's Notes: So this is basically just a love letter to one of Glee's cutest couples. Much love to everyone who encouraged me throughout the writing process! Title from The Beatles' "I've Just Seen A Face."
When Sam opens the door, he can't help the ridiculous grin that spreads across his face. The smile remains for all of three seconds before Sam forces it away, partially out of self-consciousness (he's heard enough about his lips for seven lifetimes, thanks) and partially out of... well, self-consciousness of a different kind. "I thought Quinn was coming over," he blurts, then gives himself a mental kick in the head. "Um, not that I'm not happy to see you."
Mercedes just laughs and shakes her head. "Her mom wanted to have a girls' day out all of a sudden." And nothing more needs to be said there: they both know that Quinn's relationship with her mother is still fragile, especially after she failed to take home the crown for prom queen. Which is the stupidest reason to be disappointed in your daughter that he's ever heard, but Sam can't blame Quinn for clinging to what family she has left.
Plus, it means he gets to spend the day with Mercedes, who is so awesome he might have to invent his own alien language to describe her.
"Sammy, you should let her in," Stacy says from behind him.
"Um, right." Sam steps aside.
Mercedes flashes a smile at Stacy. "Sorry I'm not Quinn, sweetie. We'll still have a good time."
"Can I wear your prom dress? I need to practice for my debut." Ever since the glee club adopted his family, Stacy has had one goal in life: becoming a famous singer who wears sparkly dresses. Sam opens his mouth to prevent yet another soul from falling before Stacy's Bambi eyes, but Mercedes just arches an eyebrow in response. Stacy sighs and says, "Fine, I'll go get my sneakers."
Stevie emerges from his stack of library books long enough to cheer, "I love the park!"
"I have little cousins," Mercedes says in response to Sam's impressed look. "After the third time I had to babysit through a sugar high, I learned how to say no." She nods in the direction of the pink binder on the desk, colored tabs sticking out of it. "We're going to the park after Quinn and Rachel made that guide to free things to do in Lima?"
"I'm saving it for summer." Sam grins. "Plus I'm afraid of what they might do to me if I spill Coke on it or something." She laughs at that, and Sam feels like a rock star. Oh, he has it so, so bad. He's always thought Mercedes was pretty, but ever since he saw her do the robot at prom, his heart does weird little flips whenever she's around. Well, okay, it has to do with more than that: it's her spark, it's what strikes the fire of her singing and the warmth of her personality. All Sam wants to do is let Mercedes light up his life.
Of course, Sam has no intention of acting on these feelings, seeing as how he can't even buy gum right now.
"I'm ready to go!" Stacy shouts, bouncing her way across the room. Stevie places a bookmark carefully in his book, but once the book is set aside, he's as bouncy as his little sister.
"I'd be honored if you would join me," Sam says in a faux British accent, offering Mercedes his arm. To his surprise, she doesn't just laugh at him, she takes the proffered arm in hers.
He's pretty sure that he's smiling all the way to the park.
*
"Why did they even name it the Holy Roman Empire if it was none of those things?"
"No idea," Sam answers, grateful for the distraction from his biology homework. Most people think English is his least favorite subject, what with all the reading, but Ms. Williams at least remembers that her class involves a lot of words and gives him books on tape. Mr. Levoy is awful about providing the right accommodations for his dyslexia, but his parents really don't have time to bring a complaint to the principal right now. As long as he's passing bio (thank you, Quinn and Mike), he's fine.
Stevie hops onto the motel bed, wiggling his way under Sam's arm. "Do you want me to read you your homework again?"
Sam goes scarlet. The last thing he wants Mercedes to know is that his kid brother gives him homework help. In fact, that's why Stevie is such a great reader: he's been reading textbooks to Sam for three years. "I think this stuff is a little out of your league, buddy," Sam manages through his utter mortification. It's also true, because a high school biology textbook is too chock full of jargon, even for someone as smart as Stevie.
Mercedes sets her pencil on top of her history notebook. "Do you want me to read it to you?" she asks, like this is perfectly normal. Sam guesses he must have made some kind of face, because she averts her eyes and adds, "If you need it."
It's been a long time since Sam has been embarrassed to talk about his learning disability, but it's different with Mercedes. She and the rest of New Directions have already seen so many of his painful secrets. It's only a lifetime of You're a smart boy, Sammy, and you have nothing to be ashamed of that lets him swallow and say, "That'd be great, thanks."
Mercedes takes the textbook from him and begins reading: "In plants and algae, photosynthesis takes place in organelles called chloroplasts. A typical plant cell contains about 10 to 100 chloroplasts. The chloroplast is enclosed by a membrane. This membrane is composed of a phospholipid inner membrane, a phospholipid outer membrane, and an intermembrane space between them. Um, Sam, I don't know how much help I'm gonna be. I took bio last year and it still doesn't make any sense."
But Sam's pencil is flying across his worksheet, which is thankfully just an unlabeled chloroplast diagram with space on the bottom to write the definitions of all the terms. "I've got a picture to go with the words. I'll be okay." Sam's always been great at using pictures to figure out what something says--it's why it took his elementary school so long to catch on to his reading struggles. Hearing biology brought to life in the golden voice of Miss Mercedes Jones doesn't hurt, either. Noticing Stevie peering at his work, Sam adds, "There are tons of these little guys in leaves. They help the plants turn the sun into food." Even Stacy wanders over from coloring to investigate, though she takes one look at the illustration and pronounces it gross.
Once Sam's done with bio, he grills Stevie on his times tables just to prove he doesn't totally suck at school. Stevie basks in the attention, of course. Halfway through showing him the finger trick for the nine times tables, Sam looks up to find Mercedes looking at him, the smile on her face so soft that just for a second, he feels like he can reach out and touch it.
*
After auditions, Sam takes one look at her face and says, "Let's take a walk."
Mercedes isn't exactly a wallflower, so when ten minutes have passed and she still hasn't said anything, Sam decides to fill in the silence as best he can until she's ready to talk. He ends up rambling about how Empire Strikes Back is totally the best Star Wars movie, but he has trouble picking a favorite movie because Return of the Jedi is, like, where all the themes come together and he gets a lump in his throat every time Darth Vader saves Luke. He's halfway through an anecdote about Halloween and a disastrous light saber battle when Mercedes clears her throat.
"I have the feeling we're not here to talk about Star Wars, even if I demand to see pictures of little you dressed up like Luke Skywalker," Mercedes says with a small smile. She's so pretty just standing on a sidewalk with the sun on her face that Sam swallows the urge to tell her she's beautiful. Judging by the look on her face at prom, she doesn't hear that nearly enough.
On impulse, Sam takes her hand and squeezes it. "Hey, you don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. I'm happy to tell you all my dark secrets." Before he has time to panic about what he's just done, Mercedes squeezes his hand back.
"Jesse and Mr. Schue loved my song. I could see it in their faces. But then Jesse called me out for never practicing. He said I was lazy." There's a catch in her voice on the last word. "Like usual, Mr. Schue didn't do anything."
Sam almost walks across the street during a green light, he's so pissed. "One: Jesse St. James is a dick who doesn't know anything about you. Aren't you, like, the junior manager of your church choir? Plus you spend a ton of time helping my family. Lazy is the last word I'd use to describe you." Sam is totally going to--well, not punch Jesse the next time he sees him, but there will be definite death glares, no matter how much Rachel likes him. "Two: Mr. Schue is a nice guy, but he's kind of a bad teacher."
That last comment earns him a snort. "Kind of? Everybody at McKinley knows you can walk all over Mr. Schue. It's like, I know he loves us and he loves glee club, but his rehearsals are a joke compared to my choir's. As much as I hate to admit it, the club would fall apart without Rachel."
They pause at yet another red light. Sam risks a glance down at their intertwined fingers--if she's not pulling away, he's sure as hell not going to. "You and Rachel should be the co-captains next year. I mean, you two are the powerhouses, and I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit."
After a long pause, Mercedes says, "I never do." She's staring at the street sign across the road like it can answer all of life's mysteries. "It's like, Mr. Schue has his featured soloists until the end of time, so why should I bother? Why should I put myself out there when our competition lead always goes to Rachel? Girlfriend can sing, but I'm just as good. Santana is just as good. Tina doesn't think so, but she's just as good, too. Rachel told me once to go out and take the lead from her, but I shouldn't have to work twice as hard as she does." When she looks back at Sam, her eyes are bright with unshed tears. "Sorry. I guess I never let myself say it out loud before."
As gently as he can, Sam says, "Maybe you should talk about this with Mr. Schue. Heck, even if he doesn't listen, you know that Rachel will. She's your friend."
Mercedes shakes her head. "Schue will never change, and I don't want Rachel picking when I get solos. What we really need is a voting system that won't turn into a popularity contest." They turn the corner, and they're almost at Mercedes' house. "You might be right about the co-captain thing."
"Might? Someone's gotta keep Schue and Rachel from giving the lead guy vocals to Finn," Sam replies, only half-joking. Okay, only a quarter joking. Artie and Puck and Kurt can pretty much sing circles around the rest of the guys, himself included.
Part of Sam wants to push on, to get Mercedes to rally the others and sort out the club's rampant problems once and for all, but they've just started up the path to Mercedes' door, and for now, they've gone far enough. Her fingers are tangled in his, a warm promise of something he thought he would never feel again, and Sam says, "Mercedes--" before realizing he has no idea how to finish that sentence.
"Sam," she echoes, and puts one hand on the doorknob. Sam wants to kiss her so badly that the tips of his fingers tingle with the need to pull her close, to touch. The cliche of the situation isn't quite perfect--it's broad daylight and they're coming home from school, not a date--but they've been warping cliche since this whole thing began with three friends going to prom.
So he's not surprised, exactly, when Mercedes changes her mind, letting go of the doorknob to tug him down for a kiss instead. It's just a brief brush of her lips against his, except there's nothing just about it, the warmth of her skin and the softness of her mouth and one hand in his and the other hand wrapped up in his shirt, oh God.
Mercedes smiles up at him, he's just been kissed by Mercedes Jones, and she says, "It's half an hour before you have to pick up Stevie and Stacy, right?"
They're going to have to talk about this eventually, but now is super not the time.
*
Sam's not really a big city guy, but everyone is so excited about New York that he's grinning ear to ear within fifteen minutes of leaving the airport. He tries not to listen in on Mercedes discussing must-see places with Kurt and Rachel, but he gives up the pretense when not even Angry Birds is enough to distract him.
"Are you okay? You're usually a lot better than that." Tina broke off making out with Mike long enough to see him putting his phone away, apparently. Then Sam feels bad for thinking that (even if it's true), because Tina is totally his geek bro, except she's not a bro, and he should probably stop staring at Mercedes before Tina figures it all out.
"I'm kinda worried that we have no setlist for the competition," Sam says, because that's the other issue weighing on his mind. Whenever they win, it seems like pure accident. Coach Beiste is always telling the football team that talent can only get you so far, and winning comes from always pushing yourself to be better. He's pretty sure that applies to everything, including singing competitions.
"That's just how we roll," Mike says, but he looks uneasy as well. New York is so big, and they're a bunch of kids from the middle of nowhere.
"Oh, shut up. You practice dancing all the time," Tina replies, and kisses his ear. It's adorable. It's revolting. Jealousy makes Sam's heart clench. Mercedes wants to talk to Quinn before they make it official (and he wants to talk to her as well, to be honest), but she's afraid of what Quinn will think, and there's some complicated history there that Sam still doesn't understand. All it means is that they're stuck in the land of secret romance, which always blows up in the movies and the comic books and pretty much every story ever.
Sam's not handling this whole thing all that well.
He spends most of the time leading up to the competition distracting himself with one thing or another. Between Finn's disastrous attempt to win over Rachel and working on song material, he's not doing that bad a job. Rachel shows surprising tact when rejecting his original song composed in Na'vi, saying something about hosting a novelty song revue during the summer. Kurt's pretty excited about that, but everyone else has no idea what she means.
(Sam wrote the song about Mercedes. If he can't tell the world, he can at least tell it to imaginary blue aliens.)
The whirlwind of it all simultaneously repels him and wraps him up: churn out two songs, memorize the harmonies, slap together some choreography, throw on their costumes, and make their final prep for the stage. They have, like, half an hour to contemplate Mr. Schue's Broadway departure before Schue shows up with a change of heart. Now Sam is onstage when it seems like five minutes ago he was still trying to remember all the words to "Pretending."
Okay, that actually was was five minutes ago. Sam sings a little of the bridge to himself, trying not to think about just how many people are in the audience. To his left, Lauren is writing some of the lyrics on Puck's hand, and it helps a little to know that he's not the only one.
"Hey." Sam knows the feel of those fingers through his, and the giddy rush takes the edge off his nervousness. Mercedes squeezes his hand once, twice, three times. "Break a leg," she tells him, like one friend to another, and he has to wrap an arm around her in a brief hug just to feel her heartbeat.
"You're amazing," he tells her, because Mercedes Jones has never needed luck to sing.
They go out and they give it their all, because New Directions might do everything at the last minute, but the club puts its heart and soul into everything it does. Sam almost stops breathing in the terrifying seconds of silence after Finn and Rachel kiss, but the show goes on and they're on fire in "Light Up the World." When Brittany is bending the laws of physics and Artie is serenading the audience, Sam risks a glance at Mercedes and thinks that maybe they have a shot at winning after all.
(He regrets that moment of optimism after it all goes down, because it makes their loss all the more bitter. At the same time, what he remembers most about New York isn't the hotel room or Central Park or the tears on the ride to the airport: it's Mercedes throwing her arms around him in front of thousands of people, both of their faces beaded with sweat from a job well done.)
*
"What did you think of the movie, Secret Boyfriend?"
Sam grins at the nickname. "It was awesome, Secret Girlfriend." Mercedes had been horrified to hear that Sam called himself a Heath Ledger fan and had never seen 10 Things I Hate About You. She promised him it was one of the good romantic comedies, and of course she's right. Letters to Cleo is still playing over the credits. Mercedes' head is resting on his shoulder, he's got a half-full bag of Cheetos next to him, his brother and sister are asleep, and all is well with Sam's world.
The glow of contentment fades a little after Mercedes starts fidgeting next to him, picking at the loose threads on the blankets. Taking pity on her, Sam asks, "What's on your mind?"
"I know that we have to talk to Quinn." Sam blinks. Well, that was unexpected. Not unwelcome, but definitely unexpected. "The other day when we ran into Kurt and Blaine... Everyone's going to figure it out. Quinn deserves to hear it from us."
"I mean, I know I'm studly and all, but I don't think she'll take it too hard," Sam says, trying to lighten the situation a little. "She's been great with helping me out." He knows Mercedes is a little jealous that Quinn still helps out with the babysitting, and Sam hasn't quite found the words to explain that he needs this. Watching Quinn play with Stevie and Stacy goes a long way to patching up the ragged hole she left in his heart. He'll never think of her in that way again, but he needs to be able to like Quinn. She's a good person underneath all those scars.
Mercedes rolls onto her side and kisses his cheek, natural as sunshine on leaves. God, he is so head over heels for this girl, this amazing girl. "It's more like--okay. Did I ever tell you that I was there when Quinn had Beth? I was there because she asked for me." Mercedes closes her eyes. "We used to be like sisters, then she moved back in with her mom and stopped talking to me. I know she wants to forget everything that happened last year, but she's forgotten me, too. I miss her so much." Her voice wavers, but holds steady at the last moment. "I don't want our first real conversation in ten months to be about me stealing her ex-boyfriend."
Sam traces aimless little patterns on her back. "Any kind of real conversation is a start," he says at last. "I don't know if things will ever be the same--my friends in my old town haven't been that great about keeping in touch--but the girl who lets Stacy do her hair and won't let anybody beat her at Scrabble is the real Quinn. You know that the real Quinn will listen to you. She'll listen to us, because we're all part of the same weird, kind of incestuous family."
Mercedes laughs at that last comment. "Let's meet up with her tomorrow," she says, voice firm, and Sam has to kiss her for that, really kiss her. They have to keep things PG with small children asleep in the next bed over, not to mention Sam's parents due back any minute, but it isn't too scandalous to press a line of hot, slow kisses down Mercedes' neck, right? Right.
"I am so happy I met you," Mercedes purrs, contented as a cat.
"I'm so happy you did, too," Sam replies, switching from kissing to nuzzling. She whacks him with a pillow. "Hey!"
"Just 'cause you're cute doesn't mean you can get fresh."
"I am both so fresh and so clean."
It turns out to be a good thing that their make-out session dissolves into giggles, because it's right then that Sam's parents get home, looking exhausted but grateful to find everyone there in one piece.
*
Just before Quinn sits down at the table with her latte, Sam takes Mercedes' hand under the table and says, "You got this." Because as much as he's a big part of this, too, Sam knows that Mercedes is the one running this show; it's Mercedes who has been missing Quinn for an entire year.
"Here's hoping," Mercedes says. Quinn gives her an odd look as she sits down. She does the usual Quinn thing of arranging herself in as flattering a position as possible, fluffing the shortened ends of her hair like she's still getting used to the haircut. It's only then that Quinn takes a sip of her latte.
"So, um, how have you been?" Mercedes asks, voice soft.
Quinn shrugs, lowering her eyes. "Adjusting to the life of a loser still, I guess. I mean, we lost last year, too, but I had a plan to get it all back." She drums her fingers on the table a few times, then gives a thin chuckle. "I don't think I'll get a third chance."
"Well, your real friends miss you." Quinn's gaze flicks up at that. Sam just keeps sipping the coffee he can't taste as Mercedes continues, "I miss you. You were like the sister I never had, and I'm sorry--" Mercedes swallows. "I'm sorry that I let us grow so far apart. I'm sorry that it took so much for me to try talking to you again."
"Oh, don't pretend it's your fault." The words are angry, but Quinn's voice is dull, all that anger directed inward. "I was the one wrapped up in the teen movie fantasy. So what, did you come to ask for my forgiveness? Because believe me, Mercedes, there's nothing to forgive."
"I--we--asked you here because you deserve to be the first to know that Sam and I are dating."
Quinn goes perfectly, horribly still at that revelation, her eyes locked on the tabletop. Sam sets down his cup of coffee because he emptied it without noticing, and the clink of china is like a gunshot in the silence over the table. Mercedes has a death grip on Sam's hand, gripping him so hard his fingers might meld together, but hey, whatever she needs. He's as much a part of this as she is.
"Oh," Quinn breathes, and then gives them a tremulous smile. It hurts to watch her pull herself together like that, but at the same time, this is the happiest she's looked since posing solo for a prom photo. "You didn't have to do that, Mercedes." She looks over at him. "Sam."
"You're still our friend," Sam says, with sudden, fierce conviction. "I know you've made a lot of mistakes, but we've all had a hard year." And that's all of it in a nutshell: the club has had a rough year, and at the end of it, what they're left with is each other.
Mercedes lets go of Sam's hand so she can walk around the table, pulling Quinn into her arms. Quinn sniffles, but she's still smiling, still lets Mercedes hold her. "Girl, I can't go through another year without you. You just say the word if you need time, but I'm gonna be right there waiting when the time's up."
"Stop making me cry in public," Quinn says, then lets out an actual hiccup. Sam considers making a strategic retreat to the counter, under the guise of getting napkins to use as tissues, but then Quinn bursts into startled laughter. "Oh my God, Sam, the panic on your face."
"He's still a little scared of girls," Mercedes says, reaching out to give him an affectionate poke in the ribs. "It's okay, we like you anyway."
"I think I'm handling this just fine, thank you," Sam retorts, purposely ruining the effect by saying it in his Sean Connery voice.
"Are you sure that you want that?"
"Dorkiness I can handle, especially when it looks like that."
"Um, sitting right here."
The world's most awkward coffee date ends up not being awkward at all, barring the first ten minutes. Mercedes and Quinn pretty much ignore Sam except for the occasional teasing, but he's content to just listen to two of his favorite ladies fill each other in on an entire year of their lives. They have such an easy, natural rapport that Sam wonders how they ever fell out of being friends in the first place. It's kind of like Superman and Batman up in here, if both were hot and talented girls instead of superheroes.
When Mercedes goes up to get a refill, Quinn just stares at him with this soft expression. Sam squirms a little bit on the inside, because seeing her like this is weird. "Be good to her," Quinn says. "I know you will, but--be good to her."
"You have my word of honor," Sam says, giving her a fistbump. There's still a lot of sadness in Quinn's eyes, but this right here--this gives him hope.
*
Telling the others is easy after they tell Quinn. Puck and Lauren each give them congratulatory noogies, because they are the same deeply weird and violent person. Brittany, Mike and Tina demonstrate a suspicious lack of surprise. Finn is equally unsurprised, but Sam suspects that has less to do with his keen powers of observation and more to do with--well, his lack of any observation skills whatsoever. Artie replies with, "Word UP, dog." Santana's response is less flattering: "Don't let him swallow you." Rachel's is probably the most comical reaction: unable to decide who to hug first, she just bounces up and down while squealing about being the greatest matchmaker ever.
Kurt, predictably, alternates between shouting, "I knew it!" and hugging the life out of Mercedes. Blaine shakes his hand and says, "I guess we'll be seeing a lot of you." He inclines his head. "They'll want coffee double dates."
"Cool," Sam replies. (It's less cool when Kurt pulls him aside to tell him that he'll break Sam's kneecaps if he ever breaks Mercedes' heart. "My dad has been making me take self defense lessons. I will end you," Kurt says, deadly serious. Which, fine, look out for your best friends and all, but don't scare your other friends in the process.)
The entire club (plus a few others) ends up having a picnic in the park one beautiful summer day, because Rachel called Kurt called Mercedes called Quinn called Puck called Santana, and on and and on down the phone chain. Sam gives Mercedes a kiss when she sits down next to him on their blanket, bearing enough chips to keep his ravenous siblings occupied for the next fifteen minutes. Her mouth is warm and tastes like Dr. Pepper.
"Gross," Stevie says, at the same time Stacy shrieks, "Ewwww!"
"I agree, little dudes," Santana says, but she looks too content to be mean. Brittany's giving her a pedicure, face screwed up in concentration. He's glad for Santana's sake that they're friends again. (It's sort of his deal, being nice to his exes.)
Kurt and Rachel heave the same theatrical sigh at the same moment, which is honestly creepy. "It's so nice to spend the day with loved ones," says Kurt, beaming. Sam's pretty sure he and Rachel were responsible for the matching checkered picnic blankets. Quinn, however, was the one to provide the precisely cut sandwiches.
"Your face is a loved one," Puck says, voice muffled by his current position, which is facedown on the ground, basking in the sun.
"Puck, that doesn't even make sense," scoffs Quinn.
"I think it does, in a weirdly sweet way." Blaine grins. "I hope I don't have a rival for Kurt's affections, though." Kurt bumps his shoulder against Blaine's in response. Sam didn't think anyone could ever rival Mike and Tina for the world's cutest couple, but there's a serious competition in the works.
"I'm so happy for them," Mercedes murmurs next to him, and Sam holds her hand in front of everyone just because he can. The smile on her face goes from ear to ear. "And I'm happy for us, of course."
Sam kisses her again. He's pretty sure he could kiss Mercedes every minute of every hour and never get tired of it. Which is a silly and ridiculous and altogether sappy thought to have, but that's kind of what romance is all about.
"Perhaps you should perform a duet for us," says Rachel, which is enough to make Mercedes turn her head to give her an amused look.
"Maybe we should be the soloists at next year's sectionals," Mercedes says. "I have a few ideas." Rachel lights up like a lantern at the mention of next year's competition, and the two spend the next few minutes in amiable bickering over what new direction to take New Directions. Sam listens as he keeps an eye on Stevie and Stacy, who are currently preoccupied with digging up an anthill.
"Maybe we should write a song about changes," Sam muses aloud.
"I like it," Mercedes says. Their hands are still joined, connection beating between them like a heart, or a song. Sam looks at his incredible girlfriend, at the friends surrounding them, at his brother and sister, and thinks that yeah, they've all had a rough year, but they've made it through together.
"I like you," Sam says, and squeezes her hand.