FIC: four hands and then away [Glee, Sam/Mercedes, PG]
Title: four hands and then away
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sam Evans/ Mercedes Jones
Genre: Flash, romance, friendship
Warning: TERRIBLE. I COULDN'T STOP MYSELF. Hokey.
Spoilers: Up to Prom Queen
Disclaimer: I'm poor. I don't own Glee.
Author Notes: Omg, please don't kill me. Unbetaed LIKE A BOSS. All mistakes belong to THIS GUY. TERRIBLE. It's late. I couldn't get the moment out of my head. Title a lyric from the song 'Heartbeats' by The Knife (though I prefer the Scala & Kolacny Brothers cover here).
Summary: She's not Cinderella, but he's Prince Charming.
Word Count: 1322 (or something)
When Mercedes pulled into the parking lot of American Family Motel and cut the engine, she was marginally surprised that Sam didn’t just say goodnight and hop out as soon as they rolled to a stop. Why she even thought that, she wasn’t sure, since he’d been nothing short of a prince all night. But he was so quiet now, the enthusiasm that had had his hands flitting and voice rising all night gone. Her own hand slid from the steering wheel and into her lap, fingers curling into her palm. It felt kind of empty without another to hold.
“You okay?” she asked.
Sam was playing with the metal slide of his bolo tie, pushing it up until she thought he was going to strangle himself, then pulling it all the way down until it clicked against the silver aglets at its tips. He let it rest low on his chest, glanced at her through the ridiculous fall of his hair.
“I kind of wish I’d been able to get you a carriage or a limo or something,” he said, smile faint. Mercedes didn’t allow herself time to be stunned, and rolled her eyes instead.
“I don’t care about that. I had a great time anyway. You’re a great friend,” she said. Then she puckered her lips, twisted them to the side. “And you totally balanced out Rachel and Jesse’s collective crazy, so I owe you one.”
That got her a grin more explosive than a firework. Butterflies swarmed her stomach hard enough to wind her.
“I didn’t think Jesse was so bad,” Sam admitted like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. “Dumb and a little pretentious and kind of creepy -“
“Like a serial killer?”
“…Not what I had in mind,” he snorted. “But yeah. I guess he was kind of Hannibalish.” Sam leaned across the console and way too close for comfort, “But he didn’t order fava beans or a chianti at ‘Stix, so I think Rachel is safe.” He held her gaze for a beat, then sucked his teeth hard; Mercedes jumped.
She shoved his face away with a small laugh, “Yeah, okay, Doctor. Wait until you hear the egg story though, then he’ll be a little more Jackson Rippner and less Hannibal the cannibal.”
Sam’s brows went up, a different sort of smile pulling at his lips, like he appreciated something she’d said, though Mercedes wasn’t quite sure what that something was. He kind of reminded her of puppies, which was way too Brittany a thought to entertain. She waved away his unasked question and messed with her iPod to ignore the way that smile made her skin feel like one giant heartbeat, warm and frantic and alive.
This silence was a little more comfortable between them and Sam didn’t seem ready to go yet, which was fine with Mercedes, because she wasn’t sure she really wanted him to leave. Which, okay, on second thought, she didn’t need right now. She scrolled through the list of songs to keep her hands busy, scrolled until she had John Legend playing low enough to be unobtrusive, but loud enough to keep her thoughts at bay.
“Do you want to hit Waffle House before you actually have to go home?” Mercedes prompted, only because no matter how much she toggled with the volume, the voice in her head was yelling above the sweet sound of Legend, and like Rachel Berry, the voice just needed to be heard. Sam started next to her.
“I should probably go,” he said quickly. Then just as quickly, “My parents are probably worried, and Stacey’s a monster if she wakes up any time before nine in the morning.”
Mercedes laughed away her disappointment. “Good call. Want me to walk you up?”
Sam’s hand was on the handle when she asked, and he paused, looked down.
“That should have been my job tonight,” he said after a beat, glancing over at Mercedes without the smile he’d been giving her all night. “I should have been able to get you home before curfew and walk you to your door. You deserve the whole princess thing, Mercedes, I’m really -“
Mercedes held up a hand to cut him off, “Slow your roll, Bieber. Didn’t I tell you I had a great time without all of that?”
Sam tilted his head this way and that, considering. “I guess so. Love don’t cost a thing, right?”
Mercedes just stared. “Oh my God. Did… you just quote J. Lo?”
“Uh, that doesn’t leave this car?”
Mercedes burst out laughing and shooed him out, “Go home, Evans!”
“Going, going!” Sam was grinning again as he pushed the door open and hopped out. The air that pressed in was getting warmer; she was so ready for summer, even before Nationals. Sam turned and leaned into the SUV, arm braced against the roof. “We’ll always have senior prom, right?”
And the way he smiled was so genuine, so hopeful, that it caught her off-guard. She only had time enough to thank God it was dark and she was dark, because Sam wasn’t smart enough to be implying that maybe he’d take her next year, right? But he just smiled, green eyes bright, and she couldn’t even come up with something witty. So in the end, Mercedes gave a dumb nod.
“S-sure. Yeah.”
“Cool.” Sam stared for a moment longer, like he wanted to say something more, do something more. He swallowed instead, stepped back away from the door and shut it softly behind him. He was at the front of the SUV when he stopped, hand pressed to the warm hood of the car.
Mercedes rolled down the window and leaned out. “Sam?”
Sam glanced up. She honestly didn’t know what to expect when he came around to her side and opened the door, opposite hand outstretched. Mercedes’s heart sounded like the WMHS marching band: loud and out of sync.
“What?” she asked tentatively.
“Give me your hand,” he said. Sam wiggled his fingers at her. Mercedes unclipped her seatbelt and turned to settle her hand over his warm palm.
Sam hooked Mercedes’s fingers against his, and with a bow she hadn’t seen since she was little and wearing out her VHS of Beauty and the Beast, Sam pressed a kiss to her knuckles. His eyes never left hers.
“Thanks for tonight, Miss Jones,” he said with a smile she couldn’t get enough of. Mercedes’s lips parted to say something, anything, but she only pressed them together as she nodded with a tinkle of jewelry.
“Okay. I’m going for real this time. Drive safe.”
And though Sam took two steps back, he didn’t let go of Mercedes’s hand until it slipped from his grasp.
She watched him until he was just outside his door, watched as he opened it and was hit by a miniature tornado of blonde hair Mercedes could only assume was his sister; Sam scooped her up and set her on his hip. Just before he disappeared into his room, he turned towards the parking lot and waved in Mercedes’s direction. Stacey waved too, though her face was buried in Sam’s neck. Mercedes returned the gesture, waving the hand he had kissed where she still felt the press of his lips.
And Mercedes was a practical girl, a realistic girl, so she tried not to think about the fact that he had kissed the ring finger of her left hand. She didn’t think about the silly stories her gramma had told her about some vein there having a direct line to her heart. The same heart that was currently trying to beat its way out of her chest.
Stuff like that, Mercedes told herself, that was the stuff of fairytales, and she had outgrown Disney ages ago. She was no Cinderella, even if Sam was Prince Charming.
It didn’t stop her from smiling all the way home.
Rating: PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sam Evans/ Mercedes Jones
Genre: Flash, romance, friendship
Warning: TERRIBLE. I COULDN'T STOP MYSELF. Hokey.
Spoilers: Up to Prom Queen
Disclaimer: I'm poor. I don't own Glee.
Author Notes: Omg, please don't kill me. Unbetaed LIKE A BOSS. All mistakes belong to THIS GUY. TERRIBLE. It's late. I couldn't get the moment out of my head. Title a lyric from the song 'Heartbeats' by The Knife (though I prefer the Scala & Kolacny Brothers cover here).
Summary: She's not Cinderella, but he's Prince Charming.
Word Count: 1322 (or something)
When Mercedes pulled into the parking lot of American Family Motel and cut the engine, she was marginally surprised that Sam didn’t just say goodnight and hop out as soon as they rolled to a stop. Why she even thought that, she wasn’t sure, since he’d been nothing short of a prince all night. But he was so quiet now, the enthusiasm that had had his hands flitting and voice rising all night gone. Her own hand slid from the steering wheel and into her lap, fingers curling into her palm. It felt kind of empty without another to hold.
“You okay?” she asked.
Sam was playing with the metal slide of his bolo tie, pushing it up until she thought he was going to strangle himself, then pulling it all the way down until it clicked against the silver aglets at its tips. He let it rest low on his chest, glanced at her through the ridiculous fall of his hair.
“I kind of wish I’d been able to get you a carriage or a limo or something,” he said, smile faint. Mercedes didn’t allow herself time to be stunned, and rolled her eyes instead.
“I don’t care about that. I had a great time anyway. You’re a great friend,” she said. Then she puckered her lips, twisted them to the side. “And you totally balanced out Rachel and Jesse’s collective crazy, so I owe you one.”
That got her a grin more explosive than a firework. Butterflies swarmed her stomach hard enough to wind her.
“I didn’t think Jesse was so bad,” Sam admitted like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. “Dumb and a little pretentious and kind of creepy -“
“Like a serial killer?”
“…Not what I had in mind,” he snorted. “But yeah. I guess he was kind of Hannibalish.” Sam leaned across the console and way too close for comfort, “But he didn’t order fava beans or a chianti at ‘Stix, so I think Rachel is safe.” He held her gaze for a beat, then sucked his teeth hard; Mercedes jumped.
She shoved his face away with a small laugh, “Yeah, okay, Doctor. Wait until you hear the egg story though, then he’ll be a little more Jackson Rippner and less Hannibal the cannibal.”
Sam’s brows went up, a different sort of smile pulling at his lips, like he appreciated something she’d said, though Mercedes wasn’t quite sure what that something was. He kind of reminded her of puppies, which was way too Brittany a thought to entertain. She waved away his unasked question and messed with her iPod to ignore the way that smile made her skin feel like one giant heartbeat, warm and frantic and alive.
This silence was a little more comfortable between them and Sam didn’t seem ready to go yet, which was fine with Mercedes, because she wasn’t sure she really wanted him to leave. Which, okay, on second thought, she didn’t need right now. She scrolled through the list of songs to keep her hands busy, scrolled until she had John Legend playing low enough to be unobtrusive, but loud enough to keep her thoughts at bay.
“Do you want to hit Waffle House before you actually have to go home?” Mercedes prompted, only because no matter how much she toggled with the volume, the voice in her head was yelling above the sweet sound of Legend, and like Rachel Berry, the voice just needed to be heard. Sam started next to her.
“I should probably go,” he said quickly. Then just as quickly, “My parents are probably worried, and Stacey’s a monster if she wakes up any time before nine in the morning.”
Mercedes laughed away her disappointment. “Good call. Want me to walk you up?”
Sam’s hand was on the handle when she asked, and he paused, looked down.
“That should have been my job tonight,” he said after a beat, glancing over at Mercedes without the smile he’d been giving her all night. “I should have been able to get you home before curfew and walk you to your door. You deserve the whole princess thing, Mercedes, I’m really -“
Mercedes held up a hand to cut him off, “Slow your roll, Bieber. Didn’t I tell you I had a great time without all of that?”
Sam tilted his head this way and that, considering. “I guess so. Love don’t cost a thing, right?”
Mercedes just stared. “Oh my God. Did… you just quote J. Lo?”
“Uh, that doesn’t leave this car?”
Mercedes burst out laughing and shooed him out, “Go home, Evans!”
“Going, going!” Sam was grinning again as he pushed the door open and hopped out. The air that pressed in was getting warmer; she was so ready for summer, even before Nationals. Sam turned and leaned into the SUV, arm braced against the roof. “We’ll always have senior prom, right?”
And the way he smiled was so genuine, so hopeful, that it caught her off-guard. She only had time enough to thank God it was dark and she was dark, because Sam wasn’t smart enough to be implying that maybe he’d take her next year, right? But he just smiled, green eyes bright, and she couldn’t even come up with something witty. So in the end, Mercedes gave a dumb nod.
“S-sure. Yeah.”
“Cool.” Sam stared for a moment longer, like he wanted to say something more, do something more. He swallowed instead, stepped back away from the door and shut it softly behind him. He was at the front of the SUV when he stopped, hand pressed to the warm hood of the car.
Mercedes rolled down the window and leaned out. “Sam?”
Sam glanced up. She honestly didn’t know what to expect when he came around to her side and opened the door, opposite hand outstretched. Mercedes’s heart sounded like the WMHS marching band: loud and out of sync.
“What?” she asked tentatively.
“Give me your hand,” he said. Sam wiggled his fingers at her. Mercedes unclipped her seatbelt and turned to settle her hand over his warm palm.
Sam hooked Mercedes’s fingers against his, and with a bow she hadn’t seen since she was little and wearing out her VHS of Beauty and the Beast, Sam pressed a kiss to her knuckles. His eyes never left hers.
“Thanks for tonight, Miss Jones,” he said with a smile she couldn’t get enough of. Mercedes’s lips parted to say something, anything, but she only pressed them together as she nodded with a tinkle of jewelry.
“Okay. I’m going for real this time. Drive safe.”
And though Sam took two steps back, he didn’t let go of Mercedes’s hand until it slipped from his grasp.
She watched him until he was just outside his door, watched as he opened it and was hit by a miniature tornado of blonde hair Mercedes could only assume was his sister; Sam scooped her up and set her on his hip. Just before he disappeared into his room, he turned towards the parking lot and waved in Mercedes’s direction. Stacey waved too, though her face was buried in Sam’s neck. Mercedes returned the gesture, waving the hand he had kissed where she still felt the press of his lips.
And Mercedes was a practical girl, a realistic girl, so she tried not to think about the fact that he had kissed the ring finger of her left hand. She didn’t think about the silly stories her gramma had told her about some vein there having a direct line to her heart. The same heart that was currently trying to beat its way out of her chest.
Stuff like that, Mercedes told herself, that was the stuff of fairytales, and she had outgrown Disney ages ago. She was no Cinderella, even if Sam was Prince Charming.
It didn’t stop her from smiling all the way home.