Glee 1. A Little Something called Self Sacrifice

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Glee. All credit goes to the writers of that TV show. I'm just playing in their sandbox.**

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><p><strong>April 2, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Motel Six**

**Lima, Ohio**

**2:26AM**

Sam's hand stroked the polished oak of his guitar. His head bowed and his left hand grasped the neck of his instrument. The strings made soft sounds as he played them gently. He felt like his life was over.

He'd known this was coming. He'd known it would happen eighty-nine days ago when everything truly went to shit. But now that the moment was literally looming on the horizon, Sam found that he could barely swallow the panic.

His guitar, _his baby_, had been his prized possession since he was eight years old. Nine years with this same guitar and it still looked quite new. Sam made sure to take good care of it. He polished the body every week. He tuned it every morning before school. He changed the strings as soon as they were worn, and it always went into its case at the end of the day.

This guitar had been with him for nine years. _Nine._ Sam could hardly believe it, really. Learning to play this instrument had led to numerous nights of frustration, many bleeding fingers, and calluses. In a way, his guitar was a pseudo-best friend. Something that had replaced the overwhelming loneliness that came with being the shy boy from Tennessee.

It had been there when his grandfather died and he'd stayed up all night trying to figure out how to play difficult chords. Sometimes, when faced with his intermittent insomnia, it was the only thing that got him through the night.

It had been there when he'd gotten his first crush and when the sharp sting of rejection hit him after a dismal attempt at asking her out. He'd had the guitar when he'd gotten his first kiss. And he played a song—the first one he ever wrote—to his first official girlfriend. Ironically, the song was how he'd asked her out and subsequently the guitar helped him through his first breakup.

This guitar had been with him through it all. The discovery of his extreme love of all things sci-fi—Star Trek, Star Wars, Call of Duty, Spiderman comic books, and finding the author Orson Scott Card. It had been there when his parents first told him what was going on.

His mom lost her job first. He'd watched the toll that took on her—even more so when she couldn't find another. Overqualified, they'd said. It was a huge blow to his mom's ego, and her belief in higher education. They struggled, but they got by.

Two months later, his dad lost his job, because of a company downsize due to the recession. And Sam watched the panic and the fights that came solely out of them being stressed. Sam had played his guitar more frequently than ever. And his parents searched. Overqualified. Overqualified. Again and again, _over-fucking-qualified_.

They tapped into their savings, but slowly they couldn't afford anything without emptying everything. Stevie and Stacey's college fund went first. And before long, they gave up. They hadn't paid the mortgage in five months, and they received the eviction notice right before New Years.

That night, his mother had thrown the fancy leather book that held her doctoral certificate, against the wall. The book cracked and so did Sam. He got a job working as a pizza delivery boy, but on the third of January, they'd been evicted.

Sam had never been so humiliated and depressed in his life. He played until his fingers bled and then some.

For eighty-nine days, they'd been staying in a one-bedroom suite at the Motel 6. His parents had sold everything they possibly could to pay for it all—food and rent. They had barely enough to keep them going. And by day forty-two, Sam's income from the pizzeria went towards food, and then paying for the hotel, and gas money for his parents to continue their search for work.

By day seventy, it wasn't enough, and his mom had pawned her wedding ring. Sam pretended that he hadn't heard her tears that night. The next morning, his dad left without eating breakfast. He didn't return for three days, and when he did, his wedding ring was gone as well. They'd only sold for about 350 a piece, but it would last them four weeks of motel rent, with Sam's money paying for food.

He couldn't watch them go through that again. He could hardly stand it before, but his parents looked as though their joy was completely gone. Sam did as much as he could. He watched, cared for and fed Stevie and Stacey, his seven-year old brother and sister—they were fraternal twins. He made his parents dinner and kept the place clean in between school, Glee club rehearsals, football practice and work.

His stress showed. He was exhausted all the time, and quieter. He played aggressively on the field, just to get some of his fury and worry out—so he wouldn't mistakenly take it out on his siblings. He sat by himself in class and Glee club, and he didn't linger around to chat with people anymore. He did his homework in the breaks he had between class, rehearsal, and babysitting. It still wasn't enough.

But now, Sam was going to make the sacrifice. Watching his parents suffering in silence was no longer an option for him. So Sam was going to give up the one thing that gave him joy—his guitar. He would sell his guitar. In the morning.

Nine years of constant companionship and friendship would come to an end in less than eight hours. Call him a baby, but he could feel the tears pricking at the back of his eyes. He felt so hopeless already, but he'd never felt alone—not with his guitar, but that would be gone soon.

He knew he had friends, but none of them had even picked up on his situation. And he was glad of it. Kurt and Quinn were the only two that had any idea about this whole dilemma. Kurt because Sam had to deliver a pizza to his private school one day, and the brunette had called him out on his bullshit.

Quinn was in the know because they'd been dating when his parents had lost their jobs. It didn't help that they went to the same church. If it had been his choice, no one would've known. But after all this, he was grateful to them for their help. They helped babysit—though Stacey wasn't as fond of Quinn as she'd hoped for, but the girl adored Kurt. And Kurt gave him clothes to wear—the plainest items he owned, plus some that he stole from Finn.

Kurt had laughed at the face Sam had made when he'd pulled a pair of glittery riding pants from the box. It made Sam quirk a smile when he realized that Kurt had been playing. Sam shook those thoughts away, and glanced at the cheap watch on his wrist. He was taken aback to see that it was almost three in the morning, but at this point, he couldn't really bring himself to care.

He clutched his guitar to his chest and stood up from the wooden porch in front of their motel room. Sam glanced over his guitar once more and took in the intricate swirls and prints carved into the polished oak. He had to blink away tears, but he couldn't stop a few that were persistent. They rolled down his cheeks without permission and he quickly wiped them off. Sam forced himself to ignore the burning behind his eyes or the sniffling of his nose. He cleared his throat and picked up his instrument.

He would do this for his family. Stevie, and Stacey, and his parents—they meant more to him than an old guitar. Feeding them, keeping them clothed, and a roof over their heads—that was worth the sacrifice he was making.

Unfortunately, that didn't stop it from hurting.


	2. And Around We Go

DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter.

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><p><strong>April 2, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Music Shop**

**Lima, Ohio**

**9:59AM**

Sam walked inside the double doors of _The Music Shop, _the strap of his guitar case thrown across his shoulders. He glanced around at the rows upon rows of old-fashioned albums with covers of Diana Ross and the Supremes and Elvis Presley. The walls were a weird purple color with a golden sheen streaking across each wave and bump in the paint. Over the walls, there were metal grates that held instruments up—drums, flutes, clarinets, cellos, and guitars.

Vintage pictures and concert posters were all over the place and Aerosmith's _Dream On_ was playing in the background as he looked around warily. As ridiculous as it was, his palms were sweating and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. He knew he looked like an idiot. His fingers were white-knuckling the leather strap that hung across his torso. This was like stepping into a pit of snakes knowing that you were going to get bitten.

He wanted to turn around and walk out so badly that Sam had actually made it back to the door, before the shop owner made her presence known.

"Well, hello darlin'," A velvet voice greeted cheerfully and Sam froze in his tracks—his hand extended towards the door. He closed his eyes—fighting with himself for a moment. He had to do this. The thought of him returning home empty handed and seeing the loving looks on Stevie and Stacey's faces tormented him. Who knew that blonde-haired and blue-eyed kids had the power to inflict torture?

Taking a deep breath, Sam dropped his hand and made himself turn back around. The shop owner gave him a soft smile, and Sam returned it with a weak grin that he was positive looked more like a grimace.

"Don't just stand over there, honey, come on," she told him. Sam walked over to the woman behind the counter, his steps slow. He observed her from afar. She was pretty, that was his first thought.

Chocolate skin tone, bright hazel eyes, and loosely curled black hair that fell right past her jaw in an asymmetrical cut. She had short bangs that fell across her forehead in a diagonal line and she wore a sleeveless purple sundress with a square neckline.

Sam blushed as he admired what of her figure he could see. He finally reached the counter and she smiled brightly, causing laugh lines and crow's feet to appear near her eyes and lips. "Child, you're up and about quite early on a Saturday morning. I couldn't get my kids out of bed before noon if I tried." She joked, and Sam shrugged awkwardly.

The woman looked him over and something told Sam that she could see more than he was comfortable with. He shuffled his feet. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Uh, Sam—Sam Evans, ma'am." He replied and she grinned.

"Well, Sam, my name is Lynette Orchid, but I prefer Lynn." Lynn stretched an elegant hand towards him and Sam fumbled with his guitar strap for a moment, before shaking it. She smiled again.

"Now, how can I help you, darlin'?"

"Well, uh," Sam stuttered, before he mentally slapped himself. "I need to sell my guitar for some cash."

"Honey, you know that the pawn shop is down the street, right?" she asked him and Sam felt himself flush a bright pink. He scrubbed a hand along the back of his neck, full of nervousness and dread.

"I know, I just—"Sam was so flustered that he couldn't even organize his thoughts. He was so ashamed of himself at the moment. He couldn't believe how much of a baby he was being. It was just a stupid guitar. The frustration was making him emotional; he could already feel his eyes watering.

"Fuck! I'm being such a brat." He cursed aloud by accident, and his eyes snapped up to see the startled and concerned look on Lynn's face.

"Darlin'?"

"I-I'm sorry, Miss Lynn, I came here because I needed to sell my guitar and I thought that I'd have a better chance here, than at the pawn shop," he said, his voice shakier than he wanted it to be. Lynn looked at him in concern.

"Well, I'm almost positive they give money for instruments. A couple hundred easy if the guitar is in good shape." The rejection hit Sam like a solid punch to the stomach. He was thankful that there was no one else in the shop to watch this humiliation.

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><p>Lynette watched the handsome boy in front of her emotionally crumble right before her eyes. He had looked so scared and timid walking into her shop that she'd wanted to mother him on the spot. The poor kid looked exhausted with dark circles under his eyes, unkempt hair, and a pale face.<p>

As soon as he'd started talking, she knew that this was going to be interesting and as she watched the steady reddening of his eyes—she knew it was going to get worse and she also knew she was going to get involved. She couldn't stand it when children cried and watching Sam, she felt like this was worse than crying because he refused to let those tears go.

Before he even turned from the counter, she had given in. "Sam, darlin', tell me what's wrong."

He looked at her from behind wet eyelashes. His green eyes looked so desperate for some form of companionship that she felt her heart constrict. In that moment, Sam reminded her of one of her own babies, and he was hurting something fierce.

There was a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had never felt so convicted by something in her life. All she could feel was the stringent need to help this boy and she didn't even know why. He could be acting for all she knew, but studying his worn clothing and the cheap watch and the less-than-stellar shoes on his feet—she could just tell that he wasn't.

"My family—they need help, and—"Sam whispered, "selling my guitar—the money will help them." Lynn could feel her heart pounding.

She could almost feel the shame and unhappiness radiating from this boy. For a moment, she found herself praying. For a family she had never met and probably never would. For the first time in a while, she asked God for some kind of guidance.

"How much do you need, darlin'?" she questioned and Sam let out a bitter laugh.

"A place to live would be a start," he muttered and Lynn got her answer.

"Well, let's see the merchandise," she said with a smile and Sam only nodded back at her. When he'd lowered the case to the counter and unzipped the bag, Lynn's eyes almost popped out of her head.

"Sweet baby Jesus," she breathed as she gaped at the beautiful guitar before her eyes. She couldn't believe what she was looking at. "Sam! Do you have any idea what this is?"

The blond just gave her a startled look. "Uh, it's a guitar...?"

Lynn rolled her eyes in exasperated amusement. "Of course it's a guitar, darlin', but, honey, this is a _guitar_."

"I don't understand."

"Sam, this is a _vintage Yamaha_. A CJ 838S acoustic, to be exact." She replied in awe as she lightly brushed her hand across it. "And it's in beautiful condition! Where did you find this?"

"My grandfather gave it to me, before he died." Sam said in return and Lynn continued fawning over it.

"We-_ell_, darlin', you just got your family a huge chunk of change! This baby is worth about seven grand!"

Sam looked like he'd been struck by lightning.

He couldn't believe his ears. Seven freaking grand? For a moment, he was tempted to look around the store for cameras, but he could feel Lynn's excitement as she goggled over the instrument. He watched as she gently lifted it out of the case and traced the custom made swirling patterns along the body.

Despite the rush of happiness that came from knowing he could now help his family; the selfish part of Sam rose up and choked him. He hated seeing someone else hold his guitar. The jealousy wasn't a surprise, but even fighting to control his feelings—the jealousy proved powerful.

It was depressing and nauseating for him to realize that he would rather take his guitar back and walk away, than trade it for seven grand—an amount of money that could change his family's lives. It made guilt swell up inside when he noticed that he was subconsciously planning to do just that. He turned his eyes away from Lynn who was still studying the instrument with growing interest.

"Well, it shows signs of wear, but it's a spectacular piece," she stated proudly, her fingers strumming the strings. "How long have you had it, darlin'?"

"Uh, nine years."

"Wow! Honey, that's incredible!" she said, "I've seen kids buy brand new guitars from my shop and they waltz in here days later with more damage than this. I'm truly impressed. You've taken great care of it."

"Yeah," Sam muttered, "thanks." His throat was tight and Lynn must have picked up on his discomfort because she shot him a soft smile as she placed the guitar back into its case.

"Alright darlin', I'll buy your guitar." She told him, but then she placed her hand on her hip and wagged a finger in his direction. "But don't you go around telling all those youngsters that they can shoot me some puppy eyes and I'll buy their merchandise. You only won me over because of those pretty green eyes of yours, darlin'."

Sam blushed at the compliment and gave her a sad quirk of the lips. Lynn only smiled at him. "Let me go grab my check book." She walked from behind the counter and into a back room.

Sam followed her with his eyes. Lynn was really pretty.

He blushed furiously before glancing down at his guitar. The urge to grab it and hightail it out of there was strong, but he thought of his family and how much this would mean to them—especially his mom.

Sam wasn't oblivious. He'd noticed how withdrawn she'd seemed—at least whenever she and his dad weren't arguing over what to do next. He hated that this stress was changing them so much, and Sam wasn't going to lie—he was a mama's boy. Or he had been before all this started.

Sam placed his hand on the guitar case, just taking it all in, because despite his urges—he was going to do this. Lynn came back through the door and walked back up to the counter. He watched as she scribbled a number and asked him specifically how to spell his name, etc. They checked and double-checked everything together to make sure it was all correct and when they were both positive, Sam had to blink away tears.

Lynn closed up the guitar case and picked it up gingerly. Sam felt like there was something sitting on his chest. Before she could turn from the counter, Sam grabbed her hand. He jerked back when he realized what he had done.

"Uh, promise me that you'll take care of it?" he asked her and Lynn was silent for a moment before she nodded.

"I promise, Sam."

Sticking the check in his wallet, Sam cleared his throat. "Thank you, Miss Lynn."

"Chin up, darlin'. I don't plan on letting you down."

Lynn watched Sam take a deep breath before walking briskly from her shop. She had never felt this attached to a customer, but Sam looked like he'd just given up all the joy in the world.

Staring after him, she wished there was more she could do—or anything she could do at all.

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><p><strong>April 2, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Motel Six**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:14PM**

That check felt like a two ton weight in his pocket. He couldn't believe that he'd wandered around aimlessly all day long, debating back and forth about cashing it. On one hand, this check could buy their family a hell of a lot of time if they budgeted correctly, but on the other hand—once he handed this check over—his guitar was gone forever.

He was still agonizing over this when he wandered inside the Evans' motel room.

"_Sammy!"_ His little sister's delighted cry made Sam snap out of his thoughts. He looked at the small girl as she bounded off the bed and ran to him, arms outstretched.

He couldn't help the grin that spread across his lips as she leapt at him. He caught her mid air and held her as she embraced him tightly. She pulled back from him a bit, her arms still around his neck.

"I missed you!" she said sadly, "I was _so_ worried. I didn't see you leave this mornin'. And you didn't tuck me into bed and kiss me g'night yesterday."

Sam felt guilt twist his insides as she frowned at him. She was the cutest thing ever with her head full of bright blonde waves and huge cerulean eyes. He really needed to stop letting people down.

"I'm sorry, munchkin. I had some stuff I needed to do last night and this morning. Will you forgive me?" he asked with an exaggerated pout. Stacey giggled at his expression.

"I forgive you," she said happily and Sam let out a loud cheer that made her giggle some more.

"Thank you! _Thank you so much_!" he wailed dramatically before tossing the small girl in the air lightly. Stacey squealed when he caught her before she collapsed into childish laughter when he tickled her.

"Sammy! Stop it!"

Stacey laughed through her words and Sam finally relented when she was practically crying. He smiled at her and she dropped her head onto his shoulder and cuddled into his arms. Sam kissed the top of her head and walked far enough into the room that he could drop onto the bed next to Stevie, who was lying prone on the bed.

The seven-year old looked up from the comic book he was reading and glanced away from Sam without a word. But Sam had seen the flash of hurt in the boy's blue eyes before he went back to reading.

Stevie's silence only compounded Sam's guilt. He may have been doing what was best for his family money wise, but he had completely neglected them emotionally. Sam had momentarily forgotten how attached Stacey and Stevie were to him in his fit of selfishness.

The three of them had always been close, but since this had all started, they'd clung to him more than normal. He was with them practically night and day.

He made them breakfast, packed their lunches, got them dressed and took them to school. He helped them with their homework, feed them snacks and dinner. He entertained them with fun stuff, comforted them when they had nightmares, and tucked them in at night. His parents were gone from early morning to late night—his mom got back the latest and his dad usually came back around six. It was almost as though _he was the parent_.

If he was honest with himself, the thought scared the shit out of him. He didn't even think about it when he'd left this morning. His mother stayed home on Saturdays and Sundays, while his dad drove out of town to look for work. He usually didn't come back until early Monday mornings on the weekends.

But Sam usually worked Saturdays, so he didn't see why today was so different.

Sam awkwardly shifted closer to Stevie on the bed, Stacey still sitting in his lap, curled into his arms.

"Superman?" he called his brother by his nickname and Stevie tensed. "What's wrong bro?"

The little boy didn't answer for a minute so Sam spoke again, "Look, superman, I can't fix anything if I don't know what's wrong."

"You promised," Stevie accused him and Sam was taken aback by the hostile tone. Sam thought back, wondering what he was talking about when he finally remembered how he'd promised Stevie that he would help him with his science project yesterday. With everything going on inside his head, he had totally forgotten about it.

"I'm sorry—"Sam was cut off by Stevie muttering under his breath.

"I'm hearing that a lot lately." The resentful tone in his brother's words pissed Sam off more than he'd like to admit. Stacey apparently felt him tense up because she tightened her arms around his neck.

"_Hey!"_ Sam barked at his brother, who looked at him with wide eyes. "I know you're upset about me breaking my promise but don't you dare start talking shit, Stevie. I work my butt off to make your life bearable and a little gratitude is not misplaced. I don't care how angry you are, but respect is a part of life and you better start using it."

Stevie's blue eyes were teary and his lips trembled, but he looked remorseful about what he'd said and Sam decided that the kid had been scolded enough. He was only seven after all, and he found himself in a completely different situation than he was used to. A situation he probably didn't even understand that well. Stevie and Stacey had actually been amazing to adapting, and the kid was bound to slip up once in awhile.

"Come here, superman," he said softly.

Stevie dropped Sam's old comic book and crawled across the bed to his brother's side. Sam wrapped an arm around his shoulders and the boy hid his face in Sam's shoulder. He laid a kiss atop the baby fine blonde hair on Stevie's head. "I _am_ sorry, Stevie. I didn't mean to break my promise. We'll have to do it tomorrow, okay?"

He got a nod in response. "Now let's dry those tears, and we can watch a movie."

Sam was suddenly childless as the two dived towards the small box of DVDs they had kept.

"Princess and the Frog!"

"Spiderman!"

Twin glares were exchanged, but Sam just stood over them and said, "How about Avatar?"

_"No!" _ Well, apparently there was something they could agree on. Sam looked at them in mock offense.

"What's wrong with Avatar?"

"I don't want to watch blue people, Sammy!" Stacey cried in indignation. Stevie only gave her a sarcastic smirk.

"But you want to watch green people?" he teased and Stacey smacked him on the arm.

"Says the boy who wants to watch some other boy dance around in red ballet tights!"

"They're not ballet tights and he's not dancing!"

The two leapt at each other, about to break into sibling fisticuffs, but Sam caught them both and tossed them over each shoulder. "No fighting!" he cried before he span around in circles making the two laugh aloud. After a few spins, he tossed them on the bed where they landed in a giggling heap of arms and legs.

"Let's watch Cars," Sam compromised and when two cheers went up, he knew he had made the right selection. Popping the DVD in the player, Sam's mother—Elizabeth walked out of the bathroom. Her cheeks were flushed with steam from the shower and she was dressed in clean clothes.

She gave Sam a tired, but happy smile. "Hello Samuel," she greeted and Sam grinned at her half-heartedly. "How was work?" she asked and Sam felt that check gain another ton in his pocket. He just observed her for a moment.

She had lost a lot of weight. She looked almost frail and far too clammy. Her blonde hair hung limply against her shoulder and her once bright blue eyes—looked a stormy grayish blue color. Sam found it disconcerting. Even more so when he could barely recognize the joyous woman that had at one time been Elizabeth Evans.

Poverty and stress had taken its toll on his mother. She barely even spoke anymore and rarely showed affection to him—much less Stevie and Stacey. It was like she was withdrawing into herself. Sam knew that his dad was trying to make it better, but he was just as lost as Sam was. Just looking at her, Sam almost reached into his pocket to hand her the check, but her next words stopped him.

"Wait—didn't you leave with your guitar this morning?" she asked, her voice tinged lightly with confusion.

He had a really bad feeling about this—one he couldn't shake. So he lied. That's right; he lied directly to his mother's face. He was such a selfish bastard.

"Yeah," he shrugged nonchalantly trying not to look suspicious, "I let my friend Finn borrow it. His string broke and he needs to prepare a song for Glee on Monday."

"Why didn't he just buy a new one?" Sam sensed the bitterness in her tone. It made him uncomfortable.

"He doesn't have the money for it," he told her and Elizabeth shrugged, but he was sure that he'd seen a flash of disbelief in her eyes.

"Okay," she said, before walking over to the kitchen table, sitting down and opening a newspaper to the job section.

Sam watched her with sadness for a moment. His mother—the woman who used to be his best friend—was wilting before his eyes. He'd always known that poverty destroyed lives, but he'd never seen it firsthand.

Looking at the wisp of Elizabeth Evans that remained, he felt like he was staring at it face to face. And boy was it heartbreaking.

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><p>Review! I'd love to hear your thoughts. :D<p> 


	3. Words Have Power

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter. This chapter contains dialogue from the Glee episode "Rumors". I take no credit for those lines. That dialogue belongs solely to the writers of the show. **

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><p><strong>April 5, 2011 (Tuesday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**8:37AM**

Sam stuffed his history textbook into his backpack and grabbed a mechanical pencil from the top shelf of his locker. Zipping his bag and flipping some long pieces of hair out of his eyes, he nudged his locker closed with his shoulder only to yelp in shock at the sight of Kurt standing behind his locker door.

"Geez, Kurt!" Sam said, "Give a guy some warning, will you?"

Kurt just raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and stared at him in silence. Sam smiled awkwardly as the brunet studied him like a bug under a microscope. Sam hadn't felt like such a freak in days.

"Something's wrong," Kurt said and Sam tried to stop the disturbed look from appearing on his face. Man that kid was blunt and he was observant. For most people, that was a great combination, but for Sam—who had no desire for his business to be known by others—Kurt was a nightmare in designer clothing.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked in return and Kurt just gave him his customary 'Are you serious?' look before answering.

"For one, your eyes are red-rimmed and slightly puffy," he began and Sam touched his face self-consciously—he hadn't been crying. He'd almost cried, but he had never cried—not since all this started. "Secondly, you look even more exhausted than when I left you last week and for some strange reason, I'm sensing some major guilt going on here, but I don't know why."

Panic almost set in and he was positive that Kurt saw the flash of terror on his face before he hid it away again. Sam felt the still un-cashed check burning in the pocket of his jeans. He didn't know why he was clinging so desperately to it. His guitar wasn't even his anymore. It was in a music shop, owned by Lynette Orchid. There was virtually no chance of him ever getting it back, but that didn't stop him from going to _The Music Shop_ every day for the past week.

He never went inside—he could see his guitar on display from the street window. Miss Lynn had polished it and put it inside a glass display case instead of hanging it on her wall. It looked beautiful and Sam longed to play it again. There had been a number of times when Sam almost handed the check over, but then someone would do or say something that made him retract his hand.

It was like signing himself over to the devil. He had no idea why he felt that way, but he couldn't beat that feeling of wrongness that came every time he almost gave in. He fidgeted in front of Kurt and tried to let his words roll off his shoulders.

"And thirdly, you just have this defeated aura about you today," Kurt said, his tone matter-of-fact and Sam just blinked at him.

"_Defeated aura_?" he asked, "Really, Kurt?"

"What?" the brunet responded defensively, "Your shoulders are slumped; your gaze is on your feet. You look pale and sad. What else would you call it?"

"I think you're crazy, maybe your facial cleanser is getting to you or something." Sam said dismissively, desperately trying to make his escape from the far too perceptive sixteen year old.

"I am not crazy, and you know it, Sam." Kurt said, his voice firm as Sam moved to the side and began striding past the brunet.

"Says the guy wearing gold pants." Sam threw at Kurt. The countertenor reached out and grasped Sam's bicep, stopping the blond in his tracks.

"There is something wrong, Sam," Kurt stated, his tone sad and concerned, "You know you can trust me, right?"

Sam let out a breath. As much as he wanted a friend right now, he knew that none of them would understand what was going on in his head. They would probably be outraged at the fact that he hadn't handed over the check the moment he got it. None of them would get it. He didn't even understand his hesitance, so why should anyone else?

"I know, Kurt." Sam replied, "But this—this isn't something you can help me with."

"Try me," the brunet persisted and Sam shook his head. He gently removed Kurt's hand from his shoulder and gave the boy, who had been such a great friend to him lately, a sad smile.

"I would, but I know you wouldn't understand. No one would." Sam said and he squeezed Kurt's incredibly soft hand. "I'm sorry."

Kurt looked disheartened as he looked at him. "I'm sorry too, Sam."

Sam nodded at him and walked down the hall, feeling Kurt's eyes burning into the back of his head, guilt in the form of a check slowly eating a hole in his pocket and his thoughts flying a thousand miles an hour. But during all this, he didn't see the calculating and horrified look on Rachel Berry's face from across the hallway.

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><p><strong>April 7, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**3:24PM**

He could feel their stares on the back of his neck and it made him blush something fierce. Sam wasn't dumb—maybe a bit slow sometimes, but not stupid—and he knew what people were saying about him. It was that damn _Muckrakers_ fault. The school newspaper had done nothing but cause misery for everyone—especially the people in the Glee club.

Santana was pissed at Brittney, who was upset because Artie accused her of cheating with Santana and then called her stupid. Quinn and Finn were fighting because Rachel was determined to point out her history with cheating and how it was likely Quinn was cheating on Finn with Sam. Lauren and Puck weren't really involved, but he could sense their curiosity and he also knew whose side they were on—it definitely wasn't his.

Quinn and Kurt were trying their best to deflect attention, but Sam was sure that was only making things worse—not helping.

Mike, Tina, and Mercedes were silent—but he could sense some animosity. They seriously thought that Sam was making Kurt cheat on Blaine. Mercedes was pissed because she probably felt like he was making Kurt destroy the perfect relationship. To Sam, it was all laughable. He was not gay and had no interest in Kurt beyond friendship.

Blaine had become a good friend of his, and Stacey had a major crush on Kurt's boyfriend, which the couple found hilarious, but Sam found a bit embarrassing. He wondered what he had done to be seen as such a bad guy—when he'd been nothing but honorable since coming to Lima.

And Quinn, he honestly had no desire to date her again. The girl was one step away from being psycho—at least about this whole prom business—and the only thing they had was friendship. He just didn't understand how all this was being twisted way out of proportion.

It stunned him and pissed him off at the same time. Sam shook his head as he tossed his backpack into his locker and shut the door. He ignored the whispers and walked into the choir room.

Giving Artie a smile, he sat down next to him. Kurt walked in a moment later and as he made his way towards the top of the risers, he placed a friendly hand on Sam's shoulder. The blond looked up at him and answered Kurt's silent question with a weak grin.

Kurt nodded before making his way past Sam and to the top. Sam wasn't oblivious to the stares of everyone else in the room, but he pretended like he didn't notice as Mr. Schue walked inside—a bright smile on his face.

"Who is up first today?" the curly haired man asked and Rachel's hand shot into the air. He nodded towards her and she responded eagerly.

"Mr. Schue, if it's alright with you, I'd like to do my own reinterpretation of my favorite Fleetwood Max song."

The teacher looked surprised at the song choice, but he was pleased—Sam could tell. "Great Rachel, which one?"

"Go your own way. It's the song about the painful breakup between Lindsay Buckingham and Stevie Nix." Sam saw the nasty look she shot Quinn and he sunk lower in his seat trying to avoid even the possibility of getting sucked into the crossfire.

Rachel continued as she sauntered up to the front of the choir room, "It's traditionally sung by a man, but today, Rachel Berry is going to put her own feminine twist on it."

She twirled the microphone in one hand before saying, "_Hit it!"_

As Rachel performed her heart out, Sam couldn't help but fall in love with her song choice. The brunette girl was incredibly annoying, but she had good taste in music—most of the time—and the girl could sing. He danced in his chair a little; happy that he could enjoy this time away from the problems of his home life. Listening to the guitar riffs in the music made Sam miss his guitar even more, but feeling the beat of the music didn't let him dwell on it.

When the song ended, Sam was the first to break into applause. She had done that song justice, but of course—right when he was feeling better about himself, hell had to metaphorically break loose in the choir room.

Quinn was pissed. That much he could tell from her voice as she spoke, "Don't you think it's maybe a little inappropriate of you to sing a love song to _my _guy?"

The drama between Rachel and Quinn seemed never-ending. Sam thought they were both crazy and after dating Quinn—who was moderately sane—he couldn't quite understand how the hell Finn fell in love with both of them.

"You're such a hypocrite; you little miss perfect prom queen. You're a cheater who cheats in cheap motels with Sam!" Rachel's tone was biting and Sam almost choked on air.

His heart started pounding. Why were they bringing him into this? He hadn't done anything wrong! He looked away from Rachel, hoping that his name wouldn't be brought up again.

"Nothing is going on between Sam and I!" Quinn hissed and Sam winced. Apparently, his luck was good for nothing. Mr. Schue looked weary as he rolled his eyes.

"That's enough, guys." He stated, but of course, his ex-girlfriend Santana had to put her two cents into the conversation.

"You know, I blame Sam for all this," Santana mused aloud and Sam inwardly groaned. Well, he certainly knew how to pick the girls, didn't he? "And Rachel too, I blame her."

"What did I do?" Rachel exclaimed. Sam felt his stomach trying to slither to his knees. This couldn't be happening.

"I'm sure you did something," Santana stated and shook her head. Sam felt his hands shake as he scrubbed his hand across his face. He sat there in silence, hoping to be forgotten.

Unfortunately, Lauren piped up, "See, I agree with Santana. I mean—why doesn't Sam have anything to say about this?"

"Guilt," Puck threw in from the opposite side of the room. Sam's temper was rising and so was his panic. It was not a cute combination. "Seriously, dude what you're doing is wrong." The irony of Noah Puckerman telling Sam something was morally wrong was infuriating. He couldn't believe his ears. But it was his last comment that set Sam off. "They both have boyfriends."

Like he didn't fucking know that. "Shut up!" he growled, "Look, I'm not messing around with Quinn or Kurt or anyone of those guys. They're just helping me out."

Mercedes looked outraged. "So is that what we're calling it now?" For some reason, her words stopped his heart and he stared at her, feeling betrayed beyond all belief.

He and Mercedes had practically never spoken before. She didn't even know him as a person, but from what he'd seen before—she'd always given others the benefit of the doubt, but him—he wasn't enough to reserve judgment?

Shaking his head, Sam looked away from her as Mr. Schue protested. "Wait, hold on! How are they helping you out?"

That was the question Sam had been dreading since this whole discussion began and as much as he wanted to lie and keep them away from his secret—he couldn't take any more stress and not telling them would just make them harass him even more.

Sam looked down, frustrated and defeated. "Kurt was bringing me some clothes and Quinn was helping me babysit my little brother and sister."

"Then why were you in that motel?" Finn asked his voice full of accusation.

"Because that's where I live now!" Sam yelled at the drummer who looked taken aback. The silence in the room was stifling. "A few months ago, my mom lost her job and then my dad did too. Then we lost our house, so now we live in that motel—in one room."

He could feel their shocked stares boring into him as he stood up in one motion. "Are you all happy?" he asked them derisively. Sam was full of disappointment and fury. He couldn't even stand to look at them.

"The truth's finally out," he said sarcastically, before he turned around and stormed towards the door. He kicked over some metal music stands on the way out of the door. Everyone flinched at the loud crash it made, but no one stopped him from walking out and slamming the door harshly behind him.

* * *

><p><strong>April 7, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**The Music Shop**

**Lima, Ohio**

**5:47PM**

Mercedes walked into _The Music Shop_, her backpack thrown across her shoulders and her eyes on the ground. She had never felt so ashamed of herself before. Her mother had always taught her to ask questions before assuming you have all the answers. Usually, she did that and took pride in the fact that she didn't fall victim to the malicious gossip that went around McKinley High, but this once, she let her own problems cloud her decisions.

She was angry at Kurt for ignoring her and their friendship. Yeah, she was happy that he'd found a boyfriend—she couldn't be more pleased, but it wasn't fair for him to forget about her and the things they used to do together with this new development.

So hearing that Kurt was cheating on Blaine—the most perfect boyfriend ever—with Sam pissed her off. She had assumed that he'd chosen his relationship with Blaine over her, and to a degree, she could totally understand, but to hear that he was two-timing Blaine with Sam Evans was unacceptable. She refused to be replaced by a pretty blond kid and her jealousy had unfortunately affected her thinking.

It humbled her when she thought of Sam's face as soon as she'd spoken. It was almost as though he'd expected better from her; something that didn't make sense considering they'd hardly even talked. That was something else that made her feel bad. She had never even taken the time to try and get to know Sam—she just assumed he was like all the other jocks; cute and stupid.

But after today, it seemed that there was more to Sam Evans than she'd first thought, and it also seemed that she needed a wakeup call to her sudden arrogant and jealous nature. Mercedes' train of thought was interrupted when her aunt stuck her head out of the door of the back room.

Her aunt beamed when she spotted Mercedes and the girl smiled back. "Mercy, darlin'!" she called, "It's good to see you, honey."

"You too, Auntie," Mercedes replied as Lynnette walked from the room, a huge box in her arms. The small lady sat the box down onto the counter and then held her arms open for her niece. Mercedes willingly walked into her embrace.

She hugged the woman tighter than she normally would, and when Lynn pulled out of the hug, she placed her hands on the sides of Mercedes' face. "You get more beautiful every time I see you, "she said, "You haven't stopped by in a long time. Ever since you started that Glee club, I hardly see you—except when you want to raid my shop for some sheet music."

Mercedes shrugged sheepishly, knowing it was true. Lynn was her favorite. She wasn't related by blood. She had married into the Orchid family by her husband, Davis—Mercedes' mother's brother, but Davis had left her for another woman seven years ago. Lynn had been adopted into the family and she'd gone by Auntie Lynn for forever.

Lynn had two kids—a twenty year old son named Jonathon and a sixteen year old daughter named Karly, who'd left to live with her father during the divorce. Lynn had been heartbroken, but she still loved her children and tried her best to stay in contact with them.

Mercedes and Lynn had grown close over the years—the woman was like another mother. She could talk to her about anything on her mind. Mercedes hoped to be the type of woman Lynnette was—strong and capable, loving and compassionate, beautiful and intelligent. She was everything her real mother was, and she was grateful that she had such a wonderful family to come home to.

Now, standing in front of Lynn, wanting advice, but too ashamed to really ask for it—Mercedes fidgeted. "What's going on, darlin'?" she asked and Mercedes sighed deeply.

Lynn lifted a hand, silently instructing Mercedes to wait before she went to the front door and locked it; she switched the open sign to closed and then escorted Mercedes to the back room.

The backroom was nice—it had plush couches, cherry hardwood flooring, and a table in the corner of the room. In the far left, there was a wooden door that had 'Storage' written across it in black lettering. Lynn led Mercedes to the couch and then sat down beside her when she fell ungracefully into the cushions.

"I made a mistake, Auntie." Lynn's eyebrows rose, but she only waited for Mercedes to continue. "I've always been taught that I'm not supposed to judge others, but today, I said some stuff to someone who's already having a hard enough time."

"Honey, we all make mistakes—"

"No, you don't understand! I don't even know this guy! I didn't even take the time to ask questions before I accused him of something that he didn't deserve."

"Darlin', you sound angry enough for me to think that there is more to this situation than being rude and judgmental. Am I right?"

"Yes," Mercedes answered, feeling as though her aunt could see right through her. It made her uncomfortable because she was already feeling like a heel, but now someone else could see her mistakes too. "I implied something about Kurt because I was jealous of him."

"Mercy—"

"I didn't know what to think! He had ditched me before for a guy and now that he's found someone perfect, I'm left in the dust again. He wouldn't tell me anything, so I just assumed that he was cheating on Blaine."

"Mercedes—" Lynn tried again, but Mercedes was too frustrated to listen.

"_I just want my best friend back_!"

The tears clouded her vision before she could blink them back and Lynn only watched her sadly.

"Mercedes, you know what you did wrong, so you don't need me to tell you again. Just let me say this, darlin'; there is _absolutely nothing wrong_ with wanting your best friend back, but people change and we have to change with them."

"I don't want Kurt to change, we were good the way we were."

"Yes, that's true," Lynn implored, "but, honey, nothing stays the same. You've been focusing so hard on getting back to what you had that you've forgotten about the fact that Kurt is still here. He's still your best friend, but now you have to share him with someone else."

"What if I don't want to share?"

Mercedes was petulant, but Lynn only gave a disapproving quirk of the lips.

"Mercedes Jones! You were not raised to be selfish. And you know that life doesn't work that way." Mercedes pouted slightly, but Lynn only pulled her into an embrace.

"I know; I'll stop being a brat." Mercedes said softly and Lynn chuckled.

"Thank you, and I'm sure you know what you need to do to make up for your mistakes." Lynn said.

"Not really," Mercedes replied and Lynn poked her in the ribs, making the girl squeal. "But I have an idea." Lynn laughed.

"That's my girl." The two sat in silence for a moment. "And who's to say that what comes of this won't be better than it was before?"

Mercedes felt a smile cross her face. Lynn had optimism about the strangest things, but it was words like that—that made Mercedes love her auntie all the more. She was such an amazing woman, and to have that type of presence around her was incredible.

"I've been thinking about building a restaurant that attaches to this place," Lynn mused aloud and Mercedes looked up at her. Lynn shrugged. "What? I've got the free space next door, and I could just knock down the wall. I've just never finished renovating it. I have no idea what I'd do with all that space."

Mercedes just shook her head and relaxed. The two chatted about the merits of that business venture for a long time. Mercedes felt like herself again. It was wonderful. When it was almost ten o'clock, Mercedes helped Lynn close up shop and on her way out she noticed the new glass case in the right hand corner of the room.

Curious, she stepped closer and felt a sense of familiarity overtake her. Why on earth did that guitar look so familiar? She walked right up to it and racked her brain for an answer. She could remember seeing it somewhere, but it just wasn't clicking inside her mind.

Lynn noticed her staring. "What's wrong, Mercy?" she asked and Mercedes answered her absently.

"I've seen this guitar somewhere before, but I can't remember..."

Lynn frowned at her niece. "Well, I just got it this weekend from a blond boy who needed some money."

Mercedes brow furrowed and she looked between her aunt and the guitar. When the answer came to her, she felt the air escape her lungs. "Was his name Sam Evans?"

Lynn looked surprised and she nodded slowly. "How do you know that, darlin'?"

"Because he's in my Glee club; he was the one I was rude to today." Mercedes' heart clenched at the thought of Sam having sold his guitar to help his family. Even though she didn't know him well, he took his guitar everywhere and she could tell it was important to him. It must have been difficult for him to give that up.

Mercedes' urge to apologize and make it up to him tripled in strength. Mercedes Jones was back and she was determined to make herself better than before.

* * *

><p><strong>April 7, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**The Motel 6**

**Lima, Ohio**

**10:14PM**

Sam had put his siblings to bed an hour earlier and was just staring at the wall, waiting for his parents to come home. He was done with all of this. He couldn't live this way anymore. And that check was their ticket out of this motel room.

Sam hated the fact that his secret was out, and all of this could've been prevented had he just handed the damn check over before. He was so ashamed of himself. He had been so self-centered this past week that he hadn't even fully considered all that the money could do for them.

_But no more._ He was no coward and he was no jerk. He wasn't going to keep this from his parents any longer. They could use it to get a small apartment maybe, or at the least a bigger suite. His guitar would just have to be replaced. And even though the thought pained him, he felt better about his situation than he did in days. He was actually going to help his family in a significant way.

Things were going to get better, he could just feel it. He was ripped from his thoughts by the sound of his mom and dad arguing. Their raised voices reinforced his decision.

When the doorknob squeaked and finally turned, Sam's heart leapt into his throat. His parents both walked in, his mother stony faced and his father looked world weary.

Sam stood up slowly as his dad closed the door. "Hi Sam," the man greeted his son with a kind, but exhausted smile. His mother didn't even speak.

"Uh, I-I have something to show you," Sam said nervously, his tongue felt huge in his mouth and he could feel sweat beading at his forehead. His parents just looked at him and Sam pulled out his wallet. He fumbled with opening it—causing him to blush—but he powered through and he pulled out the check.

It was crinkled and creased, but definitely readable and Sam handed it to his father—who was standing the closest to him. "I went out last weekend and I sold my guitar."

Jeffrey Evans looked up sharply at that. He knew how much that guitar meant, but Sam held up a hand as his father spoke, "Son, you didn't need to—"

"Dad it sold for vintage pricing." Sam said and Jeffrey froze. Sam knew he would understand the reference, but his mother looked clueless. Jeffrey unfolded the check in his hand and his eyes got wide. He literally had to sit down.

"What?" Elizabeth asked warily. "What is it, Jeffrey?" Getting no response, she strode over and took the check from Jeff's hands. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she read the figure and she let out a short scream.

Sam saw the tears rush to her eyes and his father was no better. They both looked at him with such love and gratitude that Sam almost burst into tears as well, but he kept it together. When he was blindsided by his mother throwing her arms around him in a hug, he staggered and his father joined too. They stayed that way for a long time, and neither asked about the dates on the check.

Sam was grateful. Life felt like it was getting better already. And as he went to bed that night after agreeing to go to the bank in the morning with his mother, he felt less tortured, but he still couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness that had plagued him since he'd sold his instrument.

* * *

><p>* = indicates the beginning and end of dialogue in the Glee episode "Rumors".<p> 


	4. But Actions Move Mountains

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter. **

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><p><strong>April 8, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**Cedar Crest Elementary **

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:25AM**

Sam edged the truck into a parking space as close to the school entrance as possible during prime drop off time. He had taken his truck this morning; because he had to work today. Gas was expensive and he made due with walking everywhere as much as possible. Usually they walked here, so they got there pretty early, but they had gotten off to a late start today.

Sam parked the truck and engaged the emergency parking brake, before he unbuckled his seat belt and turned to face the munchkins. Stevie was busy unfastening his belt, but Stacey was having trouble with hers.

"Sammy, it's stuck." She said, her voice bordering on a whine. Sam smiled at her.

"Alright, give me a second," he replied, before opening his door and stepping out. "Stevie, you wait until I get over there before opening that door!" He instructed the seven-year old who had just reached for the handle. He looked back at Sam and nodded.

Sam opened Stacey's door and they worked together to yank the buckle out of the clasp. When she was free, Sam lifted her out of the car and grabbed her blue backpack and her lunchbox. He held her in his arms and kicked the door shut with his foot. He walked around the side of the truck still holding her.

Stacey's arms were on his shoulders and she played with the ends of his hair. "Your hair's gettin' long, Sammy," she said with a giggle. "It's gonna look like my hair soon."

Sam gave her an amused look before opening Stevie's door with his fingers.

"Do you guys have your sweaters?" he asked because even though it was April the wind sometimes got chilly. And the last thing they needed was for the two of them to get sick.

Sam set Stacey on the ground between him and the open truck door. He handed her the backpack and lunchbox, before lifting Stevie out of the truck and putting him down next to his twin.

Stevie showed him the red sweatshirt he had in his hand while Stacey dug around in her blue backpack.

"Yeah Sammy!" Stacey answered, "I have mine." She fished hers out of her backpack to show him that they had listened when he told him to pack one. Hers was a lightweight purple zip up. Sam nodded at her and she put it back inside, before sliding her arms through the straps of her bag.

Sam grabbed Stevie's red backpack off the seat and his Batman lunchbox—one that had actually been his years ago. He handed them to the small boy, before glancing them over.

Stacey was wearing a green cotton dress with bell sleeves and an empire waist. It was cute and slightly fading from wash and wear, but Sam had found it at a Goodwill Store for less than a dollar. Stacey loved that dress; as well as the solid white Keds that were on her feet.

Sam had found those at a garage sale for ten cents—they were in pretty bad shape before, but he had taken bleach and water and an old rag and scrubbed at them until they were white again. Her hair was down and he'd put a matching glittery white butterfly clips on both sides of her head.

Stevie had on a navy blue t-shirt and some faded jeans and sneakers. His hair was brushed, but it was getting long too. They hadn't been able to afford haircuts and Sam had no idea how to do such a thing. They both looked presentable enough so he ushered them out of the way and closed the door. Holding their hands, Sam walked them to the doors of the school. Stacey chattering on about the art project they'd be doing in class today.

When they reached the doors, Sam squeezed their hands before letting go. He looked down at Stevie. "You be good today, alright?" he asked, "I don't want another message from your teacher saying that you were being disrespectful."

On Monday, Sam had come home to a note from Stevie's science teacher saying that he had disrupted class and that if his behavior didn't stop then he would have to have a parent-teacher conference. When Sam asked Stevie why he'd gotten in trouble, the seven-year old told him that his teacher had said that dolphins were fish and he'd corrected her—informing her that they were mammals because they were warm-blooded. The teacher hadn't appreciated it.

Sam thought it was hilarious, but he told Stevie not to do it again.

"Yeah, yeah," Stevie groused, "It's not my fault she was wrong."

"You still have to be nice, Superman." Sam told him and ruffled his hair.

"And she's a teacher—so she should read a book once in a while. That would help her more than me being _nice_."

Sam wouldn't admit it, but Stevie did have a point. The teacher could have been more gracious, because he hadn't said anything to make her look bad, but people were people and everyone hated to be wrong—him included.

"I know it's not fair, kiddo, but sometimes you just have to do what's right—no matter how anyone else acts." Sam told him and Stevie let out a put upon sigh before nodding.

"_Fine_, I'll be good," he said and Sam lightly flicked his forehead.

Stevie elbowed him in the side and Sam laughed. For a second, Stevie looked like he wanted to hug his brother, but his friends called his name and he didn't.

"Bye Sam!" he called before he jogged over to the group of six boys standing by the doors.

"Bye Stevie! Mom is picking you up this afternoon!"

He got an absentminded wave in acknowledgement and Sam had to laugh. Stacey tugged on his arm. He looked down at her as she raised her arms, demanding a hug. He bent down and Stacey embraced him tightly. He made a move to stand up, but she held on tighter.

He felt a wet spot form on his shoulder and a concerned frown settled over his features. "Stacey?" he asked and she started crying. He knelt down on the steps; completely ignoring the other kids running around them.

"What's wrong?" he questioned, feeling his heart clench as he wrapped his arms around her. She didn't cry often. Stacey was his little tomboy—they loved playing baseball together. She watched the football games with him and his dad—she sometimes screamed louder than they did. Stacey was his biggest fan. She demanded to come to all of his football games and he always saw her jumping and yelling for him.

She was still a princess though and she had her emotional moments, but never out of the blue like this. "I-I don't know," she said into his shoulder. "I'm scared, Sammy."

Hearing the fear in his sister's voice made him want to punch a wall. He hated when she felt helpless. No child should have to be scared like this. He had never been gladder to have handed over that check. "Of what?"

"Of you being sad all the time. You don't smile like you used to. You don't play music at home anymore. I just have a bad feelin' and there's nothing I can do to make you happy."

"Ah, Stacey," Sam sighed, his guilt tripling. "_You_ make me happy." Stacey pulled back to look at his face. Sam's heart broke at the side of her flushed face and teary eyes. Stacey was born to smile—that was when she was the most beautiful.

"I do?" she asked, sniffling.

"Yeah, Sunshine," he said as he brushed her bangs out of her eyes. Her blue orbs lit up at her nickname and Sam smiled at her. "I don't need money or games or movies to make me happy, because I have you and Stevie."

"I love you, Sammy."

Sam kissed her forehead. "I love you too, Stacey. Now come on, we don't want you to be late." Stacey wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hand and she hugged Sam around the waist. He hugged her back with one arm, before she let go and started up the stairs.

"Remember that mom is picking you up today!" he said and Stacey turned around to wave at him.

"Okay! Bye Sammy!" she yelled before she was blindsided in a hug by two of her friends—a brunette and a redheaded little girl. The sound of their giggling made him smile as he turned away and walked back to his truck. It was time to go cash a check.

* * *

><p><strong>April 8, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**9:45AM**

Sam arrived at school when first period was almost over. Cashing that check had taken a lot longer than Sam had expected. At first, he thought they were going to put it in a bank account, but Elizabeth realized that their debtors had all of the family bank information and that the money would be gone before they even got back to the motel. So they cashed it—got it in hundred dollar bills and his mom shoved it in her purse before anyone could see.

They didn't want to be robbed before they had a chance to change things around. The bank had required identification and proof and they had gone through at least three people before the bank manager had to take care of them.

His simpering had gotten on Sam's nerves because he'd tried to make numerous sales, but the Evans were not looking for his business. They shared a laugh when they left at the disgruntled looks on the employees' faces.

Sam drove his mother home and had to hurry to get to school in time to make second period. He locked his truck doors and made it to his locker before the bell rung. Moving quickly, Sam opened his locker and threw in the books he needed for his next two classes. When he spotted Rachel and Tina making a beeline for him, he contemplated his options.

He really didn't want to talk to or even see anyone from Glee club at the moment, but he also remembered what he'd told Stevie this morning about doing what was right and he didn't want to be a hypocrite. He looked over his shoulder and saw Rachel opening her mouth to call to him from across the hall.

Panic set in and before he'd even realized what he was doing; Sam had slammed his locker door shut and walked briskly down the hall. As he ducked into his classroom, he ignored Rachel and Tina calling his name. He would talk to them later today—_maybe_.

* * *

><p><strong>April 8, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**12:17PM**

Sam was proud of himself. He'd successfully managed to avoid all members of Glee. Sam swore that those people were ninjas. They just kept popping up out of nowhere. Finn had come out of a random bathroom stall and scared the crap out of Sam. Puck had waited outside his math class, and Artie had nearly mowed him down in the hallway when Sam was sprinting away from Quinn and Kurt.

He had been chased up and around this whole damn school and somehow, every member of Glee club had found him. Sam was determined to have a moment of peace during lunch though. That was why he'd snuck into the auditorium with his packed lunch.

He knew that everyone would be in cafeteria today. They were serving tots and pizza—the most epic of lunchroom combinations at McKinley, and no one would miss it—with the exception of Sam that is. It wasn't like he could afford it anyway.

Sam sighed as he sat down on the edge of polished stage floor; his feet hanging over the side. Sam pulled out his ham and cheese sandwich, a Ziploc of carrots and the two grape juice boxes he had to drink. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep his hunger down until dinner.

He had just taken a bite of his sandwich when a voice spoke up, "_Finally_! I thought I'd never get you alone."

Sam nearly choked on his food as he looked over his shoulder. Mercedes stood there, her hands on her hips. She was wearing a white t-shirt with black jeans and neon green chucks. Her hair fell across her shoulders in soft curls and her nose ring glimmered in the stage lights.

He wondered how the hell she had gotten in here without him hearing her. _Freakin' ninjas_, all of them.

Sam swallowed his bite of food. "What do you want?" he asked, turning his back to her.

He heard her walk closer, but he didn't even want to look at her. His disappointment in them all was stronger than his anger. They had reacted exactly how he thought they would have and even though he knew it would happen; he still felt like he'd been let down.

Mercedes sat next to him and Sam continued eating his sandwich. She had stalked him around the school, so if she had something to say she would have to speak up—he wasn't going to make it any easier for her.

"Can we talk Sam?" she asked quietly and Sam paused—his hand outstretched towards his bag of carrots.

"What's there to talk about?" he retorted and Mercedes sighed.

"I know you're angry, and you have every right to be," she began and despite his best intentions he was listening to her. He wasn't a bad guy and it took a lot for him to be mean to people. Damn his conscience. "I judged you unfairly without even trying to get to know you or even trying to figure out your side of the story. A lot of it has to do with the fact that I was jealous of Kurt and Blaine and then to hear that he could've been ditching me and Blaine to cheat with you—well that just kind of pissed me off. And I opened my mouth without thinking."

Sam couldn't believe his ears. Mercedes Jones, a born diva with a killer voice, was telling _him of all people_ about her mistakes and shortcomings. He just stared at her—torn between shock and awe.

"I want to apologize for being so rude, yesterday. I sincerely regret even joining that badmouthing brigade, and I know that I hurt you," Mercedes stated and raised her head to look Sam directly in the eye.

He wasn't the greatest with reading emotions but he could see the sincerity in her brown eyes. Her expression was open and honest and incredibly vulnerable. He felt honored that she would show this side of herself to him—a person who had every right to tear into her and hurt her. That took a type of strength that Sam knew he didn't possess.

"Will you forgive me?" she asked and in that moment, she earned his respect. A person that could open herself to hurt and admit their mistakes to the person they wronged was amazing. But someone who would look another in the eye and ask for forgiveness was beyond incredible. Realizing that he had taken awhile to answer, and seeing her forlorn expression, Sam answered.

"Yes," he replied and Mercedes looked depressed. He wondered why, before he realized that she hadn't even listened to his reply.

"Mercedes," he said with a touch to her arm, "I said yes, I forgive you."

Her eyes widened and she smiled brightly at him. It was the first time Sam had ever been this close to a smiling Mercedes Jones and the sight of her joy surprised him. The phrase 'her smile could light up a room' seemed fitting. He blushed when he realized he was staring.

He looked away quickly and fiddled with his bag of carrots. Mercedes looked amused. "Thank the Lord you forgave me," she quipped. Sam gave her a questioning look. "What? It's pizza _and_ tots day in the cafeteria and I gave up my tots to come apologize. It would've been disappointing to miss out on tater tots _and _still be on the outs with you."

Sam had heard about Mercedes' love of tater tots, and the fact that she gave that up for him made him feel all warm and tingly inside. He grinned shyly at her, before looking around him at his measly lunch.

He picked up a juice box and held it out in her direction. Mercedes looked startled. "It's not much but you can have one of my juices and we can share my carrots." Sam said sheepishly, and Mercedes stared at him for a moment.

"A juice box?" she asked skeptically, and Sam blushed.

"They're super cheap," he replied and Mercedes grinned.

"Uh-huh, I'm sure that's the _only_ reason," she teased. Sam's face went bright red as the girl gently took the juice box from his hand. She popped in the straw and Sam copied her actions.

"You're right," he admitted, "I do kind of love juice boxes. My favorite is the cherry flavor, but everyone hates that one."

"Everyone says they taste like cough syrup," Mercedes and Sam stated at the same time causing Mercedes to laugh and Sam to smile. He took a carrot and handed her the bag, which she took with a grin. Sam ate his carrot slowly and Mercedes nibbled on hers.

When the silence became slightly awkward, Sam spoke, "I don't have a lot to offer you, except my company—which I can't say is that wonderful, but I'd like to get to know you; if you're willing to be friends with a dyslexic homeless jock, that is."

Sam gave her a lopsided grin and Mercedes let out a laugh. She held her juice in one hand and nudged Sam with her shoulder. Their eyes met and Mercedes said, "I would rather be friends with a dyslexic homeless jock than a popular star quarterback any day of the week. And I'd say that your company is worth far more than any amount of money."

Sam felt his lips quirk up into a smile and Mercedes winked at him. They spent the rest of the lunch period, drinking juice and eating carrots—chatting about their classes. When the bell rang, they went their separate ways.

Mercedes was happy that she'd skipped lunch and even though she knew she was going to be super hungry by the end of school—she wouldn't trade her lunch of grape juice and carrots for anything.

Sam Evans was nothing like she'd expected.

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><p><strong>April 8, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**The Motel Six**

**Lima, Ohio**

**11:36PM**

When Sam parked in front of the motel after a five hour shift at the pizzeria, he was exhausted. There had been a ton of deliveries this afternoon and his boss had been in a bad mood. After that lunch with Mercedes, it had been a pretty crappy day, but when he was leaving—a guy had given him a fifty dollar tip.

The smile he'd given the guy had probably been blinding, but he was extremely grateful. So, he stopped at the nearby Wal-Mart and dollar store to get some groceries for the next week. Sam walked up to the door, his arms full of grocery bags. He kicked the door quickly, hoping to get his mother's attention.

"Mom, it's me, Sam!" he called out when no one responded. The door opened and he looked up, but didn't see anyone. He turned to the side and blinked when he saw Stevie standing there.

"Superman, what are you doing still up?" he asked as he walked in and kicked the door closed. He put the groceries on the rickety kitchen table and turned to look at his brother.

That was when he noticed something was wrong. Stacey was curled up in a ball on the bed and he could hear her crying. Stevie was still standing by the door. He was staring at Sam, looking terrified. "Guys, what's wrong?" he asked concerned as he walked over to Stacey and placed a hand on her back.

She flung herself into his arms as soon as she noticed him and Stevie wasn't far behind. "Guys," Sam said, his voice shaking a little as the two clung to him. Stacey's nails were digging into his shoulders and Stevie was wrapped so tightly around his waist that Sam was having trouble breathing. "What's wrong? What happened? Where's mom?"

Sam noticed that his mother wasn't there and he didn't hear anything from the bathroom. Thinking about it, he didn't see her car outside either.

The urgency in Sam's voice must have frightened them, but Stevie responded first, "She left, Sammy." Now, he knew something was wrong. Stevie _never_ called him Sammy; he'd always said it was a girlie name.

"What do you mean she left?" he asked, and Stacey started sobbing. The sound was heart wrenching. He stopped questioning them and just focused on calming them down. He rubbed their backs and made soothing noises, just muttering to them that everything would be okay.

It took him almost twenty minutes to get them to stop crying and ten more to get them to partially detach themselves and let him sit down. Sam had an arm around each of them and they both tried to crawl into his sides. "I need you guys to tell me what happened. And tell me everything."

"Mommy picked us up from school," Stacey whispered, "She brought us home and she was acting funny."

"It was like she was happy and sad at the same time," Stevie said, "And when Stacey asked her what was wrong, she yelled at her. So we both got quiet. When we got home, she had us do homework while she went around grabbing stuff. She made us dinner and then she told us that she was going to go out for awhile, but she'd be back."

"Well I'm sure, she'll be back soon—"Sam started, but he couldn't deny that he was pissed that his mom had left the two in this crappy motel alone at night. He couldn't even begin to fathom what she was thinking. And boy was he going to have it out with her when she got back.

"No, Sammy, she left at _seven_. She hasn't come back yet." Stacey told him. Sam's heartbeat picked up. Seven? That didn't make sense. She knew that Sam didn't get off work until ten thirty that night and his dad wouldn't get back until after midnight.

Maybe she was in a car accident, he thought in a panic. What if she's lying in a ditch somewhere? Sam tried to keep the worry off his face so he wouldn't set the twins off again.

"Okay," Sam said, "Everything is fine, you two. You need to go to bed, and I'll get this all figured out, alright?"

"But Sammy—"

"_Guys!" _Sam stated his voice authoritative. The twins stopped talking immediately. "This isn't a discussion. You two are going to bed. And I'll try to find mom. I know you're scared, but I'm right here and I'm not leaving."

The two looked slightly reassured and Sam contained the desire to sigh heavily. He picked them up and dropped them at the head of the bed. Sam gently tucked them into bed and kissed them goodnight. Within minutes, the two had passed out. Sam studied them for a moment, before his worry and anxiety set in. He walked over to the motel phone and dialed his mother's number from memory.

Straight to voicemail. Sam called seven times. Each one—straight to voicemail.

That was something that didn't help his thoughts. Sam paced around the small room, before he put away the groceries. He perked up at every sound, but the door never opened and the phone didn't ring. Sighing heavily, Sam gathered some night clothes and went to take a shower.

There was nothing he could do without leaving his siblings and he'd promised that he wouldn't do that. So he was stuck.

He closed the door behind him and set his clothes on the small shelf next to the shower and above the towel rack. When he turned around, he saw a piece of paper stuck to the mirror. A smile crossed his face as he realized that his mom had probably left a note. He shook his head, feeling calm and took the note off the mirror.

Sam unfolded the note and as he read the two sentences on the paper—he felt his world crumble.

He couldn't believe his eyes. There was a rushing sound in his head and his chest felt tight. His legs wobbled before they gave in and he collapsed to the floor. He couldn't even feel the pain that radiated from his knees hitting the marble flooring.

His whole body felt numb as he slid onto his butt and fell against the wall. For hours, Sam just stared at nothing; feeling and hearing and seeing absolutely nothing.

When Jeffrey Evans walked into the motel room at two o'clock in the morning, he saw the twins fast asleep in the bed, but his wife was missing and so was Sam. He spied the light shining under the bathroom door and he walked over to it.

He knocked on the door softly, but got no answer. He opened the unlocked door. "Sam? Elizabeth?" he asked before he stuck his head in the door. The blood drained from his face when he noticed his son in the corner of the room, looking sickly.

"Sam?" he questioned as he hurried to his son's side. Sam didn't even respond; he just stared at his father with glassy eyes. "Sam, what's wrong, son?" Jeffrey was kneeling next to Sam, his hands outstretched—wondering what to do.

Sam said nothing, he just held up the piece of paper. "Sam?" Jeffrey asked again as he took the paper from Sam's hand.

He opened it up and read it. Jeffrey felt the air leave his lungs in a stunned gasp. He looked from Sam to the note—the tears gathering in his eyes and he couldn't even find words.

"Jesus, Sam," Jeffrey breathed and something about his statement brought Sam out of his trance and straight into a blistering rage.

"This is your fault!" Sam hissed. Jeffrey had never seen such anguished hatred in his son's eyes before. "_Yours!_ How could you not see anything? Why didn't you do anything to stop this?" Sam's voice was rising and Jeff had no idea what to do.

"Samuel, stop!" he tried, but Sam only got angrier. He launched himself at his father in a physical attack and Jeffrey was too shocked to do anything but be blindsided by the stunned blow. Sam wrestled his dad and tried slamming him against the wall; all of his swinging fueled by absolute rage and hurt.

Jeffrey regained control of the fight after Sam landed a hard punch to his stomach. He struggled his way into a standing position with Sam still yelling and trying to hit him. He didn't want to hit his son, so he didn't retaliate at all as he tried to maneuver them into a place where Sam couldn't strike him anymore.

When Jeff got Sam in a pinned position against the wall, Sam bucked wildly trying to get away. "Get off me!" he growled and Jeff pulled his son into a backwards hug.

"Sam, listen to me—"

"I don't want to listen to you! I don't want to listen to anybody. What good does listening do?"

"Sam, please, stop this—"

"_I hate you!"_ The words cut Jeff to the core, even though he knew they weren't true. Sam was hurt. He felt beyond betrayed by someone he'd loved his whole life. He had every right to be angry and this blind rage was because he had nothing else to blame.

Jeff—despite all of his parental instincts telling him_ not_ to do so—let his son go.

Sam flung himself away from his father and stared at him accusingly. Seeing the hatred on his son's face was the ugliest expression he had ever been subject to. It made the father want to shrivel and die on the inside—seeing his eldest son in such a broken state.

Sam pulled open the bathroom door roughly and he stormed out of the bathroom with Jeff following him. "Sam, please." He begged his son for the first time ever, but Sam didn't listen—he just grabbed his black hoody and keys, before he opened the front door.

"_Sam_!" Jeff yelled, but the blond ignored him. Sam took off in a dead sprint down the street and Jeff watched his son run away from him with tears in his eyes. The urge to go after him was choking him, but he had two other children to think about.

Sam had a chance of fending for himself, but Stevie and Stacey were practically helpless. There was a tightness in his chest that Jeff couldn't soothe. He was worried and panicked over the fact that his son was running around at night in a blind rage—just spoiling for a fight.

He looked down at the note that was somehow still in his hand and felt his heart break. He had known she was acting differently, but he never expected this. He'd thought that the money from Sam's guitar would turn things around—not turn them upside down. And Elizabeth had destroyed any and all progress they'd made as a family in one solid blow.

With two sentences, she had broken more hearts than he had in a lifetime.

**_I'm sorry. I can't do it anymore. –Elizabeth_**

Her things were gone-he could clearly see that now. All of her clothing that had been hung in the small closet was gone; shoes, books, everything. And what was worse, she had taken the seven grand from Sam's guitar with her. Leaving them with nothing, and Sam's greatest sacrifice—a worthless loss.

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><p><strong>Review and tell me what you thought! <strong>


	5. Forgiveness is for You, not them

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter.**

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><p><strong>April 13, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**12:05PM**

As far as Mercedes knew, Sam hadn't said a single word for three days. Mercedes had gathered her courage to approach him on Monday morning, only to be taken aback by the blank look in his green orbs. He had dark bags under his eyes, his face was chalky and his lips chapped.

He looked _awful_. Sam looked like he didn't even bother to brush his hair or try very hard to dress himself—his shirts were wrinkled and his belt was fastened wrong. Sam had just looked at her listlessly for a moment, before he gently closed his locker door and walked away from her.

Since Monday, he had completely ignored everyone and refused to speak. He got kicked out of class on Tuesday for not answering a teacher, and apparently, even when he was sent to the principal's office, he had nothing to say. His father was called and ever since then, the teachers had been treating Sam like a china doll/atomic bomb fusion—delicate and explosive.

The teachers didn't call on him in class and Mercedes had taken notice of the sympathetic looks he received from the staff—even _Sue_ was being protective and tight lipped. Mr. Schue clearly knew what was going on, but he refused to say anything to them about the situation.

In Glee club, Sam just sat in his chair. He didn't sing or dance or clap like he used to; it was like he was in his own world—a place he didn't seem to like all that much.

Mercedes was both confused and worried about Sam, and she kept her word to herself. She meant what she'd said on Friday and friends didn't let friends be alone when they obviously need someone. So every day at lunch, Mercedes sat with Sam in the auditorium. She watched him pick at his food as she ate her own lunch and even though the silence was depressing, she refused to walk away from him.

And in the silence, Mercedes prayed. She prayed for some sort of guidance—ways to even begin helping Sam through this. She only had the basics about his situation, but his behavior told her that things were far worse than they had been the week before. She wasn't dumb and neither were his friends. They all noticed the sudden drop in Sam; it would be impossible not to.

They knew something had happened and whatever it was—it wasn't good. Mercedes prayed for his family and she prayed for Sam—she prayed that he would find joy in something, because even the strongest people crumble under constant strain.

Mercedes recognized that Sam wasn't infallible and accepted that fact, but Sam was just coming to this conclusion and he wasn't reacting well to the revelation.

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><p>It had actually been five days since Sam had opened his mouth. He hadn't spoken to his father since he'd ran out on Friday night and he didn't respond to Stevie and Stacey, who were still asking where mom went.<p>

It was like a constant burning in his chest. He watched his dad stutter through an explanation and he saw the distress that overtook his siblings. Seeing them so upset pissed him off something fierce. The bitterness and anger and despair were eating him alive—Sam had never felt so hopeless in his life. He still couldn't believe that she was gone, and he doubted that she would ever come back. Sam wasn't even sure that he would _want_ her to ever come back.

He was just _so fucking angry_ at her and at the fact that her leaving _hurt him_. The pain would've been less if she'd just shot him. He hated feeling like this. He hated _hating_ someone, and he hated that his father wouldn't fight him back.

No matter how cold Sam acted, his father never responded to any of it. He just looked at him with those stupid, loving eyes and wouldn't start yelling. He needed someone to argue with him. Sam was spoiling for a good fight.

His dad had to stay home with Stevie and Stacey in the afternoons now, because Sam was avoiding the motel like the plague. He left early in the morning and got back late at night. It wasn't like he was sleeping anyway.

Sam spent his nights running through Lima. When he couldn't run anymore, he would do sit-ups and pushups until his abs were screaming at him to stop. Then he usually collapsed in exhaustion or stayed up trying to read his textbooks.

He barely ate anything anymore—Sam just didn't have an appetite so he forced down what he needed and then was off again to do something else mindlessly. Sam Evans was lost inside his own head, and he didn't know if he'd ever come out again.

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><p><strong>April 15, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**12:22PM**

Sam felt bereft. Since last Friday, the chocolate skinned diva had been by his side during his lunches in the auditorium, and even though he'd been silent and trapped inside his own thoughts—he hadn't felt quite as alone with her sitting by his side. Today though, he felt her absence like a sharp chill in the air.

It was startling to realize that he'd come to appreciate her presence and her persistence in being a good friend despite his silence. But, Sam wasn't surprised that something else sort of good in his life was going up in flames. Currently, that seemed to be the popular trend.

He decided that there was no reason to be interested in his food, so he pushed the bag to the side and crossed his legs underneath him. Sam's hands fisted in his hair, and he stared down at his lap.

He couldn't decide who he hated more at the moment—himself or his mother. He had been an absolute shit to his father last weekend and his attitude hadn't gotten any better as the week progressed.

Sam was just so damn angry all the time, and he figured it was better to keep his mouth shut than to open it and say even more things that he'd regret.

Stacey was in tears all the time and Stevie retreated into himself. Sam just pretended that he didn't notice their pain and confusion. He didn't have the emotional capacity to deal with his own hurt—much less theirs too. His dad had been doing his best to split his time between looking for work and taking care of the three of them.

The look of pain blooming in his father's eyes as soon as he'd said that he hated him—it kept him awake at night. Guilt and hatred were not a good combination and Sam was losing his grip. He could feel his hope slipping away and all his dreams for the future were losing their luster.

He just didn't see the point in fighting to be what everyone else wanted him to be anymore. He could care less about popularity or money or girls. He just wanted his family back, but that seemed farther and farther away no matter what he did.

Sam was so involved in his torment that he didn't notice Mercedes walking inside until she'd placed a hand on his shoulder. He jumped in surprise and she pulled her hand back when he looked at her.

"Hi Sam," she said and he just stared at her in return, before looking away from her. He was ashamed to say that he was happy she had come today, but he still wasn't ready to talk—he didn't think he could without doing something embarrassing like bursting into tears.

He heard her sigh as she stood next to him. "I know you're hurting, and I don't have the slightest idea of what to say," She began, "but I _do_ know how to sing it."

Sam's brow furrowed. She couldn't possibly mean that she was going to sing a song to him. _Could she?_ He looked up at her as he heard her retreating footsteps and when she got to center stage, she turned around to look at him with a cordless microphone in her hand.

The stage was lit up and Mercedes faintly glowed in the luminescent lighting. She wore a white sundress with a navy cardigan over it. Her feet were in gladiator sandals and her hair and bangs were a gorgeous tumble of crimps, curls and waves.

Sam was captivated when she opened her mouth and began singing, "**_He doesn't know his worth_**; **_wears the saddest smile on earth, but he denies it._**" Mercedes' voice was a lilting melody, soft yet strong. Sam felt his throat constrict at the words.

"**_Love is reaching out to him, but he won't let it in. He defies it. He defies it._**" Her voice rose and Sam could feel her eyes on him. He stared down at his knees, his hands trembling.

Mercedes voice shook with emotion as she belted, "**_He's not ready. He's not on his knees yet. He's too strong to be weak. Show him mercy; he's not on his knees yet_**." Sam could feel all of those emotions that he'd been keeping wrapped up tightly inside start churning dangerously within.

"**_Let him break, please-make him better. Put the pieces back together_**!" The sound of her crescendo was both appreciated and detested. All of his defenses were shattering as he watched her stand before him—singing for _him_. Mercedes couldn't understand how powerful her words were; there was just no way that anyone could capture his feelings so perfectly in one song.

"**_He thinks that he's alone. I have walked the road the he's on. And I know he's searching; looking everywhere but up. He can't fill his empty cup. So he keeps hurting; he keeps hurting_**," He could see her crying and it struck something deep inside. She was hurting—hurting for him and Sam didn't understand why this girl was crying for him. How could she have seen through him so easily?

"**_He's not ready. He's not on his knees yet. He's too strong to be weak. Show him mercy; he's not on his knees yet. Let him break, please-make him better! Put the pieces back together. Help him please; he's not on his knees...Yet._**" As Mercedes' voice softened, Sam completely broke. The anger clouded his vision and the desperation choked him up.

He heard the microphone drop to the floor—the sound of feedback piercing his haze. He looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. When he saw the tear tracks on Mercedes' face and the wetness that clung to her dark lashes; Sam felt his emotional control shatter.

Wave after wave of hurt and fear swept over him. He didn't even recognize the strangled cry that escaped him as all the pain he'd been trying to keep inside ruptured. Sam felt hot tears sliding rapidly down his face and he was so ashamed of everything.

He was ashamed that he was homeless and that he couldn't help make it better. He was ashamed that his mother had walked out on his father and he'd been acting like an asshole for the past week. He was ashamed that he was crying in front of a girl who he'd only talked to for one day and he was ashamed that he buried his face in Mercedes' shoulder when she wrapped him up in a hug.

She didn't shush him or whisper empty platitudes—she simply held him close and ran her fingers through his hair as he cried his eyes out.

By the time he regained control of himself—he was exhausted. Mercedes let him go when he shifted in her hold. They stared at each other for a moment and Sam reckoned that he looked quite a mess.

One thing he appreciated was that Mercedes never looked at him with pity—empathy maybe, but she didn't pity him and that taught Sam a lot about her character. It made him trust her more than he probably should have, but that trust made his next words easier to say.

"My mom left us," he said and he blushed when his voice cracked from disuse, or at least that was the excuse he told himself. He didn't want to acknowledge the prickling behind his eyes or how his heart constricted. Mercedes simply watched him. "I sold my guitar for seven thousand dollars two weeks ago, and we'd cashed the check Friday morning."

Sam looked down at his lap, feeling more naïve than before when he realized that her statement about their debtors having access to their bank account had probably been a lie.

"She told me that if we put the money in a bank account, the people we owe money would take it from us before we could do anything to fix our living situation—so we got it in cash. Everything was fine, but when I came home after work—"Sam felt his throat close up and he fisted the fabric of his jeans in frustration.

When Mercedes' soft hand grasped his, Sam took in a shaky breath and continued, "When I came home after work, my little brother and sister were alone in the motel room. Turns out mom had left them there for four hours on their own, and they were terrified. I put them to bed and tried calling her cell phone. She didn't answer."

Sam tensed and Mercedes squeezed his hand in reassurance. She didn't even attempt to speak. "I thought maybe she was in a car accident or something, you know. I figured she was probably hurt or she got caught in traffic or she got a lead on a job, but when I went into the bathroom to take a shower, I found a note taped to the mirror. All it said was, 'I'm sorry. I can't do it anymore. Elizabeth.'"

Those words were engraved into his brain. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his dad's hurt face and his mother's cold words written on that small piece of paper. The pain he felt was toxic to his self-confidence and well being.

Mercedes entwined their fingers as Sam tugged harshly on the long blond strands that hung in front of his eyes with his free hand. "It was like all the things we had been through—as _her_ family—it was as though we were _worthless_. And she took the money I got from selling my guitar." Sam's breath hitched and Mercedes saw the hurt clearly.

"I sold the guitar that I've had for nine years to help my family—to change things for us and she destroyed that in _one day_! She took away our last hope, Mercedes. How do I get past that? How can I even think about forgiving her? And I've been an asshole this entire week. _God_, what does my father think of me?" Sam looked at Mercedes, who was staring at him compassionately.

"Sam, your father loves you." She said, and Sam shook his head.

"I thought my mother loved me too," he replied bitterly, "This goes to show how much that's worth—"

"Don't you dare start talking that kind of foolishness, Sam," Mercedes interrupted him and he glanced over at her. The look in her eyes was understanding, but the expression on her face was set. "Love is something _precious_ and your mother let her selfishness cloud her judgment. Losing faith in love will do nothing but make _you_ miserable, not her."

"I told him that I hated him," Sam admitted and Mercedes' eyes softened as she placed her other hand atop their entwined digits. "I told him that I hated him and then I ran off. I haven't talked to him since."

"Sam, _your father loves you_," she said quietly, "I believe that with all my heart and right now, the only thing you can do is talk to him."

"What if he doesn't want to talk to me?" Sam asked. His vulnerability was making him more nervous than usual.

"What if he does?" Mercedes responded and the two were silent as Sam mulled over that answer in his mind. She had a point. One, he couldn't really refute.

When the bell rang, Mercedes squeezed Sam's hand once more before letting go. He thanked her quietly before he walked from the auditorium.

Mercedes stared after him as he walked out of the doors.

When he was gone, she let out the sob she'd been holding in. She couldn't believe what Sam's mother had done to him. It had taken all of her self control to restrain her outrage when he told her, but she knew that her anger wouldn't have helped him then. He had enough emotional turmoil to sort out in his own head.

She prayed that Sam would actually talk to his father. Whether or not, the blond admitted it—he needed his dad to be there for him. Just as his dad probably needed Sam to be there for him in return.

There had to be something she could do to help him and his family. _There just had to be._

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><p><strong>April 15, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**The Motel Six**

**Lima, Ohio**

**10:48PM**

When Sam walked into the motel room, his face flushed and his expression nervous—Stacey threw herself into his arms. He held her close, murmuring apologies into her ear as she blubbered in his embrace. She and Stevie were quick to forgive, terrified that he would up and leave like their mother did and Sam spent quite awhile trying to reassure them that he wouldn't do such a thing.

After they'd been put to bed, Sam finally faced his father. The man had been quietly watching him since he'd walked in the door. Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Jeffrey raised his hand to stop him.

Sam watched his father cross the short distance to him with apprehension. But he was surprised when all his dad did was open his arms to Sam. For a moment, Sam was frozen. His dad was forgiving him without asking for a word of explanation or remorse.

What Sam didn't realize is that Jeffrey could see everything he needed to in Sam's green eyes and he didn't need anything more.

The relief flooded Sam faster than he could blink when he realized how right Mercedes was when she told him 'your father loves you'. He stepped into his dad's embrace and they wept together. Sam had never been more aware of the shared pain, but he also felt more surrounded by love than he had in days.

Jeff spent an hour just listening to his son speak. Sam told him about why he sold the guitar, where he sold the guitar, all the drama with the Glee club, becoming friends with Mercedes, and how stupid he was for trying to date crazy chicks. Jeffrey just listened attentively as Sam talked through his tears, no longer hiding how scared and angry and _hurt_ he was from his father.

Jeff felt his heart breaking. He couldn't believe that he had _missed_ all this. His son had needed him and whether he liked it or not—he had let him down. With the maturity Sam had been showing, Jeff had forgotten that his son was just seventeen-years old. He was still his baby boy and he would always be that, but Jeff had lost sight of his child as a result of his problems. That was unacceptable and he swore to himself that things would be different.

"We're going to be alright Sam," Jeffrey whispered into Sam's hair—long after the drained teenager had fallen into a peaceful slumber in his arms. Jeff had sat on the bed next to Stevie and Stacey long ago when Sam couldn't control his tears. He had pulled the boy down next to him and just held his son in a hug that was long overdue.

Sam had listened to the steady pounding of his dad's heartbeat under his right ear and that combined with his father's fingers threading through his hair eventually soothed him to sleep. Jeff laid a kiss on his son's head.

"I love you _so much_, Sam," he said softly, "We're going to get through this. I don't know how just yet, but I have faith that God has something wonderful in store for us. We're going to be alright. I just know it. "

And that night, for the first time in months, the Evans family slept with no concerns about tomorrow—they were just basking in the love that still existed in the middle of their darkest times. Peace didn't come easily to them, but tonight; they had everything they needed and that was more than enough.

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><p><strong>REVIEW, please? And tell me your thoughts. :) <strong>The song used in this chapter is "He's Not on his Knees Yet" by CeCe Winans. <strong>**


	6. Friendship is Always Necessary

**DISCLAIMER: On first chapter.**

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><p><strong>April 16, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Motel Six**

**Lima, Ohio**

**8:34AM**

Jeffrey woke to a gentle knocking at his motel room door. He blinked up at the ceiling trying to clear the fogginess from his vision and mentally get his bearings. He tried to remember if he was expecting anyone to come over today, but nothing came to mind.

He heard the knock again and he began to sit up, until he felt Sam's dead weight across his chest. Pausing, he shook his head to wake himself up, before he carefully slid Sam's upper body off of him. Jeff heard the knock once more and he quickly but silently slithered off the bed. A smile crossed his face at the sight of his three slumbering children.

Someone knocked again and he hurried to the door—scrubbing a hand across his face and running a hand through his hair to try and get rid of the knots that had formed in his sleep. He grimaced at the fact that he had to open the door with his morning breath, but he did so anyway.

When Jeff opened the door he blinked at the sight of a teenage girl standing there, her hand raised to knock again. She stared at him and Jeff looked back at the chocolate skinned girl in surprise.

"Hi," she said cheerfully and Jeff gave her a small smile.

"Hello," he replied and his voice seemed to help her regain confidence.

"I'm Mercedes Jones," she stated with a bright smile spread across her features. She extended a hand to him and Jeff shook it politely. So _this_ was the girl who had recently befriended his son.

She was cute. Straight hair and bangs; an outfit of purple jeans and a striped black and gray shirt with a huge purple flower clipped to the left side of her hair. He was surprised that she'd been able to find their room—he hadn't expected Sam to tell anyone their address.

"Jeffrey Evans," he responded and the girl's hazel eyes lit up with excitement.

"I'm a friend of Sam's," she said, "Is he home?"

Jeff nodded. "Yes, he is, but he's asleep right now. Is there any way you could come back later?"

Mercedes looked slightly disappointed, but she answered, "Of course I can, but I-uh brought you all breakfast."

Jeff finally took notice of the large picnic basket by her feet and he looked up at her, startled. "We don't need any charity—"

"Mr. Evans," Mercedes interrupted, "Excuse my disrespect, sir, but there is a difference between charity and a gift."

"What?" Jeff asked, taken aback.

"Charity implies that I pity you, which I absolutely do not. This is a gift—from _me_ to a _friend_. Gifts are born of kindness and charity comes out of duty. I came here of my own volition. If someone forced me to do so, I wouldn't be standing here with a smile on my face." Mercedes stated and Jeff felt shock and an undercurrent of shame flow over him.

He knew she was right. "I'm sorry, Miss Jones."

"Call me Mercedes, please?" the teenager asked, "I feel old if someone calls me Miss Jones—I want to look over my shoulder every time someone says it."

Jeff had to smile at her. She was certainly different from what he'd been expecting. Then again, hadn't Sam said as much last night? "Okay, Mercedes, would you like to come inside?"

She beamed at him and hefted the basket into her arms. Jeff held the door open for her as she walked past the threshold. He would deny it if asked, but he blushed faintly once he noticed her taking in the state of their 'home'. It was quite the mess.

* * *

><p>She would never admit it, but seeing the small space that the Evans were forced to live in—made her stomach churn unpleasantly. Such nice people didn't deserve to go through things like this. But she forced her sadness away and focused on helping them—she didn't pity people as a rule.<p>

Mercedes looked around and had to swallow a giggle when she noticed the kids sprawled across the bed. There was a little boy and girl that laid on the left hand side of the bed—their chests moving with each breath. And then there was Sam. Mercedes had never seen anything so undeniably adorable in her life.

The blond was curled on his side—his arm thrown over a pillow that he was cuddling to his face. The fact that Sam was a cuddle-monster did not surprise her for some reason—he seemed the type to respond well to innocent physical affection.

He was breathing deeply and his hair was a mess of blond hair that fell all over his pillow and face. She smiled at the sight, before she headed towards the kitchen table and sat down the rather heavy basket.

Mr. Evans walked over to her as she opened the lid of the wicker basket. Instantly, the aroma of scrambled eggs, chocolate chip- blueberry waffles, and fruit filled the room. Mr. Evans sniffed the air and blinked at her in surprise.

Mercedes laughed at the awed look on his face. "Wow that smells incredible." He said as he sped into the kitchenette and peered into the basket from the other side of the table.

"Thanks, Mr. Evans," Mercedes replied to the compliment and Mr. Evans waved at her dismissively.

"It's Jeff—_especially_ if you plan on gifting us with food that smells like heaven in a tuber ware container," he joked, "That's asking for an invitation to join the family, young lady."

"Did I pass?" Mercedes teased the now jubilant man and he chuckled.

"Yep," he said with a huge inhale, "You passed with flying colors." Mercedes and Jeff shared a grin.

"Well, can you show me where the utensils and plates are?" she asked, "And you could wake the others?"

"Sure thing," Jeff replied as he hurried past the table and into the small kitchenette. He opened the cabinet and pulled out a set of plastic blue dishes. Mercedes took them with a smile and nodded towards the others still passed out on the bed.

Mercedes watched out of the corner of her eye as Jeff gently woke the little boy and girl on the bed. The small girl sat up—her blond hair sticking up all over her head and her bright blue eyes looked bleary. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands as Mercedes set the table for breakfast.

The diva was aware when the kids noticed her presence, because they both froze. "Daddy, who's she?" The little girl's voice was the sweetest thing Mercedes had ever heard. She felt her heart melt.

"She's a friend of Sam's from school," Mercedes heard Jeff reply as he started shaking Sam's shoulder. "Why don't you be polite and go say hello?"

There was some intense ruffling from the bed area and then the soft padding of feet was coming towards her. The little girl stopped right beside her and peered into the basket—just like her father did. The only difference was the fact that she had to stand on her tiptoes to actually see. Mercedes held back a laugh when she saw the girl's eyes widen at the sight of the food.

When the child sniffed deeply, she couldn't contain the giggles. Stacey looked from her to the basket—her cheeks pink, before she stepped back and faced Mercedes.

"Hi!" the little girl stated with a smile, "I'm Stacey."

Mercedes had to admire the kid's confidence. She didn't appear to have any insecurity about standing before a stranger in her pajamas with a serious case of bed head. That was something Mercedes had trouble with even on her best days.

"Hello," she replied to the small child, "It's nice to meet you, Stacey. My name's—"She was cut off by the sound of Sam's sleepy and confused voice.

"_Mercedes_?" he asked from his spot next to the bed.

* * *

><p>The last thing Sam had been expecting was to wake up to the sound of his sister saying, "Daddy, who's she?" And he definitely hadn't been expecting to smell the most wonderful scents in the world—breakfast food.<p>

But, he was completely caught off guard to have stood out of bed after being shaken awake by his father and seeing Mercedes Jones in his kitchenette.

His brain couldn't even begin to compute what he was looking at. Mercedes was setting food on his rickety kitchen table and talking with his little sister. Mercedes Jones was in his family's motel room.

"_Mercedes?"_ he called out—his voice reflecting his current state of bewilderment. She looked up at him and smiled prettily. Sam just gaped at her, before he realized that Mercedes Jones was in his kitchenette—staring at him when he'd just gotten out of _bed_.

His nose wrinkled just imagining how he must look and he quickly ran his fingers through his tangled hair. He winced when he'd pulled at a particularly vicious knot, but he smiled back at her nervously. Sam was honestly surprised when she started laughing.

"What?" he questioned and she looked at him in amusement.

"You looked like a gerbil that had suddenly lost his running wheel—like you'd never seen the wood shavings on the bottom of your cage before," she responded and he pouted at her.

"I did _not_," he replied, "I just wasn't uh-expecting you to see me in bed so early in this friendship."

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "Is our relationship moving too quickly for you, muffin?" Her tone was teasing, but Sam still blushed. He stuck his tongue out at her and Mercedes laughed.

"Boy, please," she told him with a wave, before turning her attention back to his little sister. "I'm Mercedes," she said and held out a hand for the small girl to shake. Stacey took it and shook her hand as firmly as possible.

Sam didn't miss the flare of amusement on Mercedes' face.

"Did you make us breakfast?" Stacey asked and Sam's brain finally put the pieces together. Mercedes had come to his family's motel room and brought them breakfast. And man, it smelled _delicious_.

It was only when he was inhaling that he realized he had morning breath. His face flared red and he slapped a hand over his mouth—as though Mercedes could smell his breath from all the way over here. It was too late to do anything about the moronic action, because four sets of eyes had flew in his direction when they heard the loud slap.

Mercedes was giving him a strange look, but his father's lips were twitching. Sam shot him a glare, before he said, "Be right back." And hightailed it into the bathroom—grabbing a fresh set of clothes on the way.

* * *

><p>Mercedes snickered when the bathroom door shut behind Sam. Stacey giggled with her.<p>

"Sammy's silly," she whispered to the taller girl and Mercedes nodded.

"I'm learning that," the diva replied. "And to answer your question, I did make you breakfast."

Stacey's head was cocked to the side, but it was the little boy who actually spoke up, "Why?"

He blinked at her from his dad's side and Mercedes smiled at him. "Because Sam is my friend and I wanted to do something nice to cheer him up. That's what friends do."

Mr. Evans gave her a sheepish smile and said to his son, "Why don't you introduce yourself, buddy?"

The little boy looked up at his father for a moment before nodding. "I'm Stevie," he told her.

"We're twins!" Stacey threw in—her excitement growing. "And I _love_ your hair clip! Where'd you get it?"

"Oh," Mercedes spoke, "I actually made this one. Crafting accessories is kind of my thing."

Stacey's blue eyes sparkled with interest and Mercedes could barely contain her grin. She only had one little sister, Annabelle who was six, and she didn't have the patience for sitting through a craft making session—she just wanted the stuff when everything was completed.

"Really?" the girl asked, "I tried making a headband with macaroni noodles once, but they all fell off." Stacey's expression dropped at this admission.

"Well at least you tried," Mercedes began, "If I come over again, I'll be sure to bring some of my craft supplies and I'll teach you how to make a headband."

Stacey's glorious smile was enough to make Mercedes grin obnoxiously for a week. "Oh, I would love that!" And before Mercedes could even do anything, Stacey had sprinted to the bathroom door and opened it.

The sound of Sam's indignant squeal from the shower made her and Mr. Evans howl with laughter.

"I love your friend Sammy!" Stacey yelled into the small bathroom.

"_Stacey!"_ Sam yelped, "Close the door!"

"Okay Sammy!" she replied, before she closed it. Mr. Evans was laughing so hard he was crying and Mercedes couldn't control her snorts, which made Stevie start giggling like crazy. Stacey joined in after she heard a loud thunk from the bathroom.

Once their laughter was mostly under control, Mr. Evans helped Stevie pick out some clothes to wear whenever Sam was finished in the shower. Stacey went to Mercedes. "Will you help me choose an outfit?" she asked shyly.

Mercedes blinked in surprise, and she looked at Jeff who shrugged at her. Slowly, she agreed and was dragged over to the bed. Stacey dropped to her hands and knees and wiggled her way under the bed, before she came sliding back out with a small suitcase handle in her grasp.

She grunted with the effort and Mercedes quickly lifted it for her. She got a smile of thanks from the kid as she placed it on the bed. Stacey unzipped the suitcase and Mercedes looked inside. There were plenty of cute options for the girl to wear.

"Did you have a color in mind?" Mercedes asked.

"Uh—red." Stacey replied and the teenager nodded before she began rifling through Stacey's clothes. Before long, Mercedes had picked out a striped dress with hello kitty faces in the bottom left hand corner. It had red, blue, yellow, and green horizontal stripes and three-quarter sleeves. It looked like it had never been worn.

Stacey's eyes lit up when she saw it. "I forgot I had that one!" she beamed and Mercedes smiled. "I can wear it with my red headband and the shoes Sammy bought me."

The adoration that Stacey had in her voice every time she talked about Sam made Mercedes' heart flutter. The love she could feel within their family was like an abused kitten—shy and fearful, but crazy strong and protective when provoked. With everything going on—it seemed that they had forgotten that they had each other.

With the abrupt departure of their mother—something that still made Mercedes seethe on the inside—they had been reminded and now they didn't know what to do with themselves, but she could tell some major healing was needed.

"You're going to look amazing," Mercedes said and Stacey beamed at her before running off to show her dad. For a second, Mercedes worried that the food would be too cold to eat by the time they were done, but she put that to the back of her mind. It would be warm enough.

She had just tidied and zipped up Stacey's suitcase when Sam walked out of the bathroom. He was blushing something fierce and his hair was dripping wet—the blond strands clinging to his face. The emerald green t-shirt and jeans he had on clung to his damp skin; showing Mercedes that white boy was pretty damn fine under those clothes.

She blushed when his green eyes caught her staring and he blushed even more when he remembered Stacey walking in on his shower while Mercedes was in the room. From the other side of the room, Jeff burst out laughing.

"Why don't you two get everything for breakfast _finally_ ready, while I get these two munchkins cleaned up?" he asked as he ushered the twins into the restroom. He'd shut the door behind them, before they even had a chance to answer.

Sam looked at Mercedes and gave her a grin. "Well, hi," he said and she waved.

"I didn't expect to see you today," he told her as he walked over to grab the suitcase off the bed.

"I know," she replied, "but I couldn't stop thinking about you and your family all day, yesterday." Mercedes admitted as he slid the suitcase under the bed, before looking back at her with raised eyebrows.

"You couldn't stop thinking about _me_?" he teased and Mercedes quirked her lips at him sarcastically.

"You _and_ your family," she replied back, "I wanted to do something to help, and I know that breakfast isn't a whole lot, but it's all I have to offer you right now—besides my friendship that is."

Mercedes wouldn't admit it even under threat of death, but Sam's lopsided grin was the cutest damn thing she had ever seen. His cheeks were still pink from his earlier embarrassment and his hair was drying quickly, but it was still plastered to his head in some places. Even his green eyes—the one that had looked so listless and angry six days ago—were dancing in amusement and curiosity.

Whatever had gone down in the last twenty-four hours was enough to bring life back into him and she was thankful.

"You bringing my family breakfast means a lot more to me than you think," Sam stated, "And I wanted to thank you, anyway."

Mercedes' head cocked to the side—the question in her eyes. Sam's cheeks reddened again and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "What you did for me in the auditorium yesterday—with that song and then you uh—"He stopped to clear his throat and Mercedes bit back a laugh at the embarrassed flush he was sporting. "You comforted me. I just wanted to tell you that I'm really grateful for you having done that, and for you listening to me and sitting with me all last week."

The sincerity in his voice almost made her cry. "I seriously don't know what I would've done if you hadn't sat with me during lunch those days." He finished with a self deprecating smile.

He was being honest, but Mercedes couldn't help the feeling of doubt that spread through her. "Sam, I didn't even do anything."

"You _being there_ was more than enough. I didn't need you to say anything, Mercedes," he revealed, before he shuffled his feet. "There wasn't anything you could say, really. I wasn't in the state of mind to hear any advice."

"Sometimes silence is more powerful than words," Mercedes mumbled and Sam raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "My auntie says that all the time; I've just never seen it play out in real life."

They shared a smile. "Honestly though, _thank you_."

"You're welcome, Sam."

It was awkward for a beat, because neither of them knew what to do or say next, but Sam's family solved that problem when they came pouring out of the small bathroom. Stacey and Stevie both looked super cute and Mercedes held in the girlish squeal that was dying to escape.

"Let's eat!" Jeffrey stated and cheers went up around the room. There was a stampede to the small table and then food was being passed around. Stacey was telling Mercedes all about her school and her friends while Stevie was trying to convince his dad to do a science experiment that day. Sam just ate the delicious spread Mercedes had cooked for them and listened to the happy chatter of his family.

He was astounded at the difference. He hadn't seen his father so relaxed in almost a year and Sam couldn't even begin to fathom the change. Mercedes caught on to his apprehension and solved the problem by reaching into the picnic basket and placing a cherry flavored juice box next to his plate.

Sam stared at it for a moment, and then he gave her the brightest smile he possibly could. That was enough thanks for her.

* * *

><p><strong>April 16, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Motel Six**

**Lima, Ohio**

**12:34PM**

"So to do this problem, you have to take the derivative," Mercedes instructed Sam. After breakfast, Mercedes had packed up to leave, but Stacey begged her to stay with them for awhile longer. His dad had left right after breakfast to go job hunting and take care of some paperwork—he was very vague on the details, but he promised that he would be back before dinner.

Sam didn't mind either way—he was happy to have her stay and hang out because he did want to get to know her more, but when it came out that he was struggling with his homework—Mercedes had decided to help him with that.

So far, even though his brain felt like mush—he had caught up on his homework from the past week in about three hours instead of having taken all weekend like he'd expected it to. She was great at explaining things to him. It helped that she stuck with the same terminology every time but made the explanations simple. She didn't mock him when he struggled with reading the directions and she didn't make fun of him for not knowing how to do certain math problems.

Mercedes was incredibly patient and he was grateful. Most tutors got fed up with him after an hour or so, but they'd been working for almost four and she was still smiling. That was somewhat of a feat for Sam.

She had even been helping Stevie and Stacey with their homework. Stevie had practically fallen in love when Mercedes told him about her love of chemistry and forensics. Since then he had been staring at her with awe and listening to everything she said without argument. Sam found it funny and not-funny at the same time.

Stacey crushing on Blaine was cute and a bit embarrassing, yet Stevie crushing on Mercedes wasn't? That didn't even make sense in his own head, but he ignored it and concentrated on finishing his last calculus problem. The only thing he had left was a three page essay on Queen Elizabeth for history and he just had to make an outline—though with his writing skills that would take forever.

He watched Stacey read aloud to Mercedes with the dark skinned girl correcting her pronunciation every once in awhile. He had never been happier to have made a friend like Mercedes Jones. Her reading with Stacey gave him a break from his daily dose of humiliation as he tried to help her read. It had always mortified him that he had trouble reading, and it was a welcome relief to take a day off from that embarrassment.

He buckled down to study, because Mercedes had coerced Sam into taking the kids outside to play at Paradise Park once all the homework was done. It hadn't taken much to convince him. He had wanted to get them out of this motel room for fresh air before now, but he'd known he had a ton to catch up on.

Somehow she had solved both problems in one go. She was a genius—that girl. He smiled and finished his last equation with a satisfied sigh. Mercedes looked up and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Done and done!" he told her and she smiled.

"Want to get started on that history outline?" she questioned and Sam's expression soured.

"I really don't think there's any _want_ involved when it comes to essay writing." He muttered with a snarky attitude. Mercedes laughed.

"It's only an outline, Sam," she told him and he grimaced as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Writing an essay should be illegal," he said, "I suck at writing essays. I suck at writing in general." Mercedes shook her head in his direction.

"It may not be your best subject, but I think you could be decent at it. You just have to take it one step at a time," she stated, "And you know I'll help you."

He looked at her hopefully which caused her to laugh. Sam loved hearing her laugh because she rarely ever giggled. If she found something funny, her face would light up and she'd laugh fully—everyone in the vicinity would know that she was amused. Belly laughs from girls were hard to come by, and he found that he liked hearing hers.

Almost as much as he was starting to like her company.

* * *

><p><strong>April 16, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Music Shop**

**Lima, Ohio**

**1:07PM**

Jeffrey walked into _The Music Shop_ feeling apprehensive. This was the only old-fashioned music store in Lima that he'd been able to find and he hoped he'd found the correct one. Its' name didn't exactly make it extraordinary, but the atmosphere inside the place certainly did.

As soon as he'd walked in, Jeff was reminded of home. Not any home in particular, but just _home_. It was such a soothing atmosphere that he couldn't help the small smile that slid onto his face as he peered at the rows and rows of music. His attention was caught when he saw Sam's guitar—looking shiny and new in a glass case on the far side of the room.

His smile disappeared and he took a step towards the case when a petite woman came out of one of the aisles, holding a clipboard in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. He figured she probably worked here. She was wearing a strapless white sundress with glittery navy flats. For a second, he watched her take a quick gulp of coffee—unfortunately that was when he'd opened his mouth and said, "Miss?"

The woman gasped—obviously inhaling whatever hot beverage she was drinking—and Jeff supposed it went down the wrong tube. He felt guilty for taking her by surprise. She coughed and sputtered, fumbling to keep a hold of her clipboard and not spill her drink on the ground.

Jeff wanted to laugh when she set her mug down and wagged her burnt tongue around in the air. He couldn't contain his amusement anymore when she finally noticed him standing there and her hazel eyes got huge with both shock and embarrassment.

She snapped her mouth closed and looked at him for a second. Jeff fought down his chuckles as she smoothed down her dress and hair. Jeff thought she was beautiful—in a very understated way. She had a smooth mocha complexion with short and curly dark hair. That dress made her skin glow.

The only piece of jewelry he could see were two pearl stud earrings in her ears. She looked elegant without even trying. Something Elizabeth had always tried to do. He shook away thoughts of his wife—_ex-wife_ as soon as he could afford to divorce her—when she turned to face him directly.

"Can I help you, darlin'?" she asked after regaining her composure.

Remembering why he was here, Jeff's amusement faded. "Yes, I came by to ask you about a recent purchase you made."

The woman looked intrigued as she gathered her clipboard and coffee mug. She walked a little bit past him and placed her things on the counter. Jeff followed her with his eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, I believe you bought a vintage guitar from my son Samuel about two weeks ago. This was the place he told me about."

"Samuel—oh! Sam Evans," she exclaimed, "Yes, I remember him; such a sweet boy. And you're his father?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered before extending a hand to her, "I'm Jeffrey Evans."

"Lynnette Orchid," she responded with a shake of his hand. He was surprised by how firm her hand shake was for such a small woman. She was probably chin height in comparison to him. They shared a smile. "Now what can I do for you, Mr. Evans?"

"I was wondering how much you would charge me if I wanted to buy the guitar again?" he questioned. Lynn stared at him.

"Oh, I apologize, Mr. Evans, but I hadn't planned on selling the guitar—to _anyone_." Lynn replied, her gaze sad. Jeffrey closed his eyes in disappointment. It had been a long shot in the first place, but he had to do_ something_. That guitar meant the world to Sam.

"Are you sure?" he asked desperately, "I'd do anything."

Lynn watched him in silence for a moment. "Darlin', why do you want this guitar so badly?"

The question didn't really make sense to Jeff. What did it matter? A shop owner should want to make a sale, but this lady wanted a reason?

"My son loves that guitar and the only reason he gave it up was to help his family. I've—"Jeff stopped himself for a moment, but Lynn waited patiently. "I've been a horrible father to him these past few months, and getting his guitar back will help me make amends."

"Mr. Evans," Lynn began, "Pardon me for my rudeness, but I have to say this. I've met your son, Sam once and when he was in here—he sacrificed something that meant the world to him for his _family's_ happiness. He was miserable without that guitar, and giving something so precious to him away for others tells me a lot about his character." When he stared at her, uncomprehending her point; she leaned towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm saying that Sam wouldn't want you to try and _buy_ his forgiveness," she said bluntly. Jeff stared at her, feeling insulted.

"I'm not trying to buy his forgiveness. I just want to make things up to—"Jeff stopped when he realized what he was saying and how it sounded. Twice in one day, he was being taught lessons by complete strangers. "I didn't even realize..." he trailed off, feeling his face burn with shame and Lynnette gave him a kind smile.

"Mr. Evans, when Sam came in here, I don't think he ever expected to get his guitar back. He willingly—however difficult—traded it for his family's happiness, and if you don't mind me saying, I think you should maybe focus on that instead of his guitar. Guitars can be replaced—family _can't_." Lynn rubbed his arm softly, before she moved away from him once she'd said her piece.

"How is your living situation coming along?" she asked and Jeff's eyes flew to her.

"How do you know—"he started but Lynn flapped her hand at him.

"He told me," she answered his unasked question. Jeffrey just gaped. It seemed his son had a knack for finding the women that could see through people like transparent curtains. But he found the blunt manner refreshing—he didn't get confused as much.

"And I have a proposition for you," she said causing Jeff's eyebrows to rise.

"What do you mean?" he inquired warily. She gave him a mischievous smile.

"You have any experience with architecture?"

* * *

><p><strong>April 16, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Paradise Park **

**Lima, Ohio**

**3:12PM**

Stacey and Stevie's giggles resonated across the empty playground section of the park. It was a beautiful day to be outside in Ohio. The grass was bright green and lush. The trees swished lively in the soft breeze. Ducks quaked and ran along the edge of the lake in the distance. Sam had stealthily placed a rather large piece of bread on the tail of one duck—he and Mercedes got a kick out of watching the poor animal get chased by six others wanting the food.

Sam cracked up at the strangled quack that came from the duck as he sprinted from the others on webbed feet. Mercedes couldn't control the amusement she felt watching them in hot pursuit. They had walked around for a few moments until Sam heard the sound of someone calling his name from behind a tree.

Curious, he walked back towards the playground area—not noticing the smug smile on Mercedes' face. When they got there he saw Stacey and Stevie playing on the swings and the entire Glee club—and Blaine—sitting at the large picnic table.

Sam froze and Mercedes laughed at his flabbergasted expression. She pushed him forward—unwilling to let him turn and run. When he was seated at the table, silence reigned supreme, before Rachel cleared her throat.

"Sam, we just wanted to say that we're really sorry for making all of those accusations a couple of weeks ago," she said. There were nods all around the table.

"We're really sorry," Brittany piped up, "We didn't know you were virtually living in a cardboard box." Her apologetic expression was the only thing that kept Sam from wincing and Mercedes from leaping across the table.

Quinn elbowed Brittany causing the blonde to say, "_Ow_!" Quinn just gave her a dirty look before smiling softly at Sam.

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have brought you into that fight with Rachel."

"You didn't," Santana threw in, "Pinocchio did a wonderful job of messing things up, all by herself."

"Me?" Rachel snapped, "_You_ were the first to blame Sam for everything."

"_Right_," Santana growled, "I'm sorry for being such a bitch to you trouty mouth, but at the time—all the evidence was against you."

Sam stuttered his acceptance of their apologies. Mercedes rolled her eyes with Tina—that was as remorseful as they would get from Santana.

Finn shared a look with everyone at the table and they all got quiet. "To make it up to you, I brought you some clothes—I figured sparkly riding pants weren't quite your style." The tall boy said as he handed Sam a duffle bag full of clothing. Kurt shot his brother a look that had Finn smirking back. Blaine laughed at the interaction between the two.

"I brought you some of my stuff too," said Puck, "And I'm sorry for going all Judge Judy on your ass. I shouldn't have jumped on your case without knowing all the facts first." Sam just smiled at him and took the second bag and the third from Mike.

The Asian grinned at him and Sam chuckled as Artie spoke, "Well, I doubt you would fit any of my clothes—considering my utter lack of developed musculature while you walk around like a blond-haired superman, without the spandex of course. I figured some cash would do you more good than anything."

Artie handed over an envelope with fifty bucks in it. Sam didn't look at him too long. He was feeling the urge to cry. Yeah, his friends had messed up before, but they always came through in the long run. It was a wonderful thing to know you were cared for.

"Thanks guys," he rasped—everyone pretended they didn't hear the emotion in Sam's voice.

"Well, the girls brought some clothes for your little sister and your—"Sam felt more than saw Mercedes flinch and wave her hands in a desperate attempt to get Rachel to stop talking. It didn't work. "—mom."

His whole body jerked at the term and Sam felt his heart stop for a brief moment. He closed his eyes. It seems that Mercedes hadn't told anyone about their conversation, and he felt the appreciation well up inside him at the thought that she had kept what he'd told her in confidence. She was turning out to be a really good friend.

But now he had to explain to everyone else. They were staring between him and Mercedes in confusion. She obviously hadn't known about this part. Mercedes was looking at him with apologetic eyes, but he just gave her a sad smile—silently telling her that it was alright.

"Uh, you guys can give the clothes for my mother to the donation center," Sam said quietly, "My family certainly won't be needing them."

"What do you mean?" Brittany asked. Mercedes shot her a glare, but Sam touched her arm under the table.

"My mom's gone," Sam admitted—his voice breaking on the last word. "She left last Friday." The looks of dawning comprehension on their faces were too much for Sam, so he looked over at the playground to check on Stacey and Stevie.

The two were chasing each other around the slide with blinding smiles on their faces. It lightened his heart to see them so happy. Mercedes' death glare was apparently enough to prevent anyone from asking questions. So they moved onwards.

"Well," Kurt began, "Mercedes told us that you sold your guitar and that just wasn't acceptable to any of us—and we know that it was a vintage guitar so we couldn't pay to get yours back." Sam stared at them, wondering what this was leading to. Kurt nodded at Finn, who stood from the table and jogged to a nearby tree.

When Sam spotted the mahogany guitar in Finn's hands, he froze. "So we went to the pawn shop and got you a different one." Sam couldn't believe his ears. He couldn't stop staring at the guitar in Finn's hands. Finn finally came to a stop in front of Sam, and handed the stunned blond the guitar.

"We know it's not the same, but it was almost new when the previous owner pawned it and Puck fixed up anything that could've been wrong with it." Kurt finished. Sam held the guitar correctly, his fingers running over the brand new strings and the smooth body.

"You bought this for me?" he asked and when he looked up—he saw their smiles—even Santana looked a bit teary.

"We all did," Finn stated and Sam wasn't able to swallow the lump in his throat.

"You guys don't understand—I can't be in Glee club anymore. I can't afford it," Sam confessed and appalled looks appeared on their faces.

"You're not leaving Glee," Rachel protested, "That's where you _belong_."

"Yeah man, you love music," Puck agreed, "And we'll figure something out with paying for stuff."

"That guitar is for you, Sam," Mercedes said from his side. Sam looked over at her, feeling as though he was about to burst. "Friends don't let friends be alone when they obviously need someone."

And Sam couldn't stop himself from crying. The tears came so suddenly that they took him by surprise. He tilted his head down so no one could see his face and he bit his lip to keep himself silent. He wasn't fooling anybody.

Brittany was the first one to come around the table and wrap him up in a hug.

"Everyone needs a cuddle when they're sad," she told him sternly and Sam let out a laugh. Mercedes pulled the guitar from his grip just before he was surrounded by all the girls in Glee—even Santana and Lauren joined in.

When they let him go, and Sam had wiped his tears away, he was leapt on by Finn, Mike, and Puck. The tangle of arms and legs made Sam laugh as he was dog piled by Glee love. It was an amazing way to start all over, and Sam was happy to know that he had people who loved him.

Eventually, Stacey and Stevie wore themselves out and they joined the group—which turned into an impromptu picnic and concert. Stacey squealed when she saw Kurt, but she threw herself at Blaine and sat on his lap. Sam, of course, was mortified by this, but the couple just laughed. Stevie made instant friends with Artie, Puck, Mike and Finn—their talk of video game tournaments had him entranced. Mercedes and Sam shared a small smile as the group talked, laughed and played songs until the sunset.

Sam, Stacey and Stevie fell asleep on the drive home in Mercedes' car. She was incredibly happy to have seen Sam in such good spirits. She counted her day with the Evans family a complete success.

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><p><strong>REVIEW! I love hearing your input. :) <strong>


	7. Smiles Are The Best Medicine

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter.**

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><p><strong>April 17, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**The Motel Six**

**Lima, Ohio**

**1:22PM**

Sam opened the door of his motel room before Mercedes could even knock. She was bowled over by the built blond as soon as she opened her mouth. The look on Sam's face was one of pure joy.

"What's going on?" she asked, bewildered and Sam actually beamed. His smile was so huge that it almost looked painful.

"My dad got a job!" he crowed as he threw his arms around her and bodily lifted her off the ground. Mercedes squeaked in surprise as he hefted her into the air, before he put her back onto the ground and danced them around the small porch area.

The diva couldn't contain her laughter at his jubilation as he let her go and started doing the tootsie roll—right there in front of God and everybody.

"That's great!" she told him, "But boy, _please_ stop."

Sam looked at her while in the middle of busting a move. "Why?" he asked with wink. "You don't like my booty-licious dance moves?" Sam tried his best to pop, lock and drop it, but it just ended up looking like he'd gotten stabbed in the ass with a fire poker.

Mercedes was torn between amusement and embarrassment for the boy—especially when she saw a small group of three women burst out laughing across the street. She decided not to tell him about that and just smiled at him. Sam was literally glowing.

"Oh, I like your dance moves alright," she told him—his happiness was contagious. "Just don't bust out the running man before you stretch."

Sam laughed.

"You're just _jealous_," he said, throwing an arm over her shoulders, "You wish you could move like this." He made a wave with his upper body before leading a laughing Mercedes inside the motel room.

"Do you know where your dad is working?" she asked him as she closed the door behind her and placed her bag on the chair beside the door.

"He's designing something for someone in town," Sam told her, "It has to do with architecture so my dad is over the moon." He plopped down on the bed and glanced at her.

"Was it a big interest of his?" Mercedes questioned as she looked around the room—it was still quite dirty, which made her doubly happy that she had stopped at home after church. Sam had asked her to come hang out when she dropped him off last night, and she'd agreed to drop by for the afternoon.

"Yeah," Sam said, "He got his master's degree in architecture. He's always worked for a finance corporation since he got it though—it was_ safer_." The sarcasm Mercedes heard in that last word equated to the size of an elephant. She ignored it and Sam continued, "But he always did work for some small company in Tennessee on the side; so he has plenty of experience."

"Well, that's awesome," she replied and Sam grinned at her. "Where are Stacey and Stevie? Did your dad start work today?"

"No, he has to draw up some designs before he can begin actual work. They're going to have some consultation meetings for the next couple of weeks to discuss their options. But he went to the library today—he wanted to read up on everything and make sure he was up to date on all of the qualifications and safety stuff, before he got started. So he took the squirts to the library with him." Sam said and Mercedes smiled at him.

"Well in that case, I think we should clean this place up a bit," Mercedes told him and Sam groaned.

"No," he cried in mock misery, "I thought you were _cool_, Mercedes! Now I find out you're one of those _neat and organized_ people. We can't be friends anymore." When a pillow slapped him upside the head, Sam laughed. Mercedes rolled her eyes.

"No," she mocked, "I thought you were _cool_, Sam! Now I find out that you're _blond_ and want to be _Justin Bieber_! We can't be frien—"The same pillow came flying towards Mercedes and hit her directly in the face. The two burst out laughing, before Mercedes dragged Sam out of the front door by the hand. She led him to her black BMW and opened the rear door.

Sam blinked at the numerous cleaning supplies in the trunk. His eyebrows were practically at his hairline. "Is this for us?" he asked dubiously, and Mercedes shook her head.

"It's all from my house, but I figured it wouldn't take more than a couple of hours for us to make this motel more of a home for you."

"Are we really going to clean?" he asked and Mercedes nodded.

"It'll be fun!" she stated. Sam gave her a look that had her laughing. "I promise! I can teach you some dance moves in return."

Sam's face lit up and he grabbed the mop and bucket before she could say anything else. He was walking back to the motel room when Mercedes called after him. Sam just said, "_Come on_ girl, let's get to cleaning. I got to get my groove on!"

Mercedes burst out laughing, but she carried the rest of the cleaning supplies into the room. As she clicked her key to lock her door, she watched as Sam wrestled with the mop bucket and tried to fill it with water from the kitchen sink.

It didn't even occur to him that he could just use the bathtub spout. Mercedes shook her head and muttered, "Crazy white boy." But when the dishwasher knob hose thingy fell out of his hands and started spraying water everywhere, Mercedes smiled and ran over to help him.

Five minutes later, Sam and Mercedes were soaked with water and both were glaring at the sink hose that had gotten stuck in the on position. Sam looked at Mercedes who was wearing her fiercest scowl and collapsed in laughter; watching him twitch with amusement on the floor made Mercedes crack a smile.

The afternoon passed in fits of giggles between the two as Mercedes taught Sam quick but effective ways to clean stuff. They reorganized all of the Evans' excess things and Mercedes helped Sam start the washer to do all the laundry. She laughed at the blush on his face when she'd pulled a pair of his Star Trek boxers from the dryer.

He laughed when he'd chased her around the motel room with a dirty sock. She ran him down with a spray bottle of soap and water. She showed him the proper way to make a bed and how to use one of the dust busters and a mixture of bleach, water and febreeze to clean the mattress.

Sam taught Mercedes the art of re-fluffing a de-fluffed pillow that had just come out of the dryer. Seeing the two teenagers hitting the wall with a pair of pillows and then smashing them together would've been quite amusing if anyone had been watching them.

They made quite some faces when they cleaned out the refrigerator. There was a cockroach incident that had sent Mercedes out of the room, screaming. When Sam saw it, he'd joined her outside. They eventually went back in and attacked the fridge with a bottle of Clorox spray cleaner and their best war cry.

Sam just _had_ to pull out his _Braveheart_ impersonation which made Mercedes laugh hysterically. During the fridge cleaning, Sam and Mercedes traded one-liners from the movie.

All in all, it took them about six hours to clean and do all the laundry in the motel room, but Sam had never seen the motel room gleam like it did now.

The linoleum flooring in the kitchenette faintly sparkled. The counters and appliances were cleaned—their small table's rickety leg was fixed, meaning they duck taped it until it stopped shaking. The stuff along the walls was organized and the bed was made.

The transformation was nothing short of amazing. After they'd put the cleaning supplies—what was left of them—back into Mercedes' trunk, the two of them collapsed onto the bed side by side.

Sam looked over at Mercedes. "Do I get my dance lesson now?" he asked and she laughed.

"After all that, you still have energy to dance?" she questioned, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"Yeah," Sam replied as he sat up and pulled her into a standing position. Mercedes had worn a pair of old blue jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt. Initially her hair was down, but after the water sprayer incident, she'd tied it back in a pony tail.

After so much work though, strands of her hair had fallen out and was framing her face. She was also wearing a pair of black square framed glasses. Sam thought she looked beautiful.

"Alright," she gave in and he beamed at her. "So I think we'll start off small. The most important thing about dancing is being able to find the rhythm. If you don't hear the beat, you can't dance to it."

Sam nodded and she smiled at his eagerness. She kind of thought his bad dancing added to his charm, but she wouldn't say anything. "You have a music player?" she asked and Sam shook his head.

"My iPod and iPod dock were one of the first things to go when money got tight," he admitted and Mercedes nodded.

"No problem," she told him as she switched on the television, "that's what you have MTV for."

Surprisingly the song "Get Low" was playing and Mercedes smiled. "This song is good, because it has a very obvious beat. Can you find it for me? Just sway your hips from side to side to the beat."

Sam listened intently for a minute, before he started moving, but his movements were stiff and awkward. The blush on his face was steadily reddening and Mercedes thought he looked adorable. She kept her thoughts to herself. She tried showing him the beat by moving herself, but Sam just got flustered.

Mercedes touched Sam's hips and helped him move in time to the music, but the poor boy's face was flaming red by the end of the song. He threw his hands in the air once the song ended.

"I suck," he groaned and Mercedes smiled at him.

"It's only the first time, Sam," she told him.

"No, I've tried before—I'll never get this right." Sam replied, his voice sad. She felt her heart clench at the truly disappointed look on his face. "I'm going to be the dork who can't dance for the rest of my life. No girl will want to dance with me if I pull out the robot."

Mercedes laughed. "That's not true, Sam," she said.

He looked at her. "Would you dance with me if I did?"

Mercedes met his eyes and said, "Yes."

Sam gave her a lopsided grin.

He sat down on the bed as Mercedes turned the television off. She sat beside him, and she literally felt his demeanor change as he glanced around the clean room.

"Sam?" she inquired uncertainly and Sam gave her a weak smile.

"I was just thinking about my mom," he told her and Mercedes gave him her full attention. The sun was setting outside, but the rays of orange and purple were entering through the open window. The colors reflected off Sam's blond hair and his skin looked like it was glowing.

Mercedes thought he looked gorgeous, but his sad green eyes captured her attention. "She tried to teach me how to waltz when I was six. I remember because I kept stepping on her toes, before she told me take my shoes off and dance on her feet."

"You miss her a lot, don't you?"

"It's hard not to," Sam confessed, "She wasn't always a woman consumed with herself. She loved us, Cede, I know she did. She used to play pirates with me in our backyard. I always got to play the good guy and she'd play my enemy. Every time, she let me win. She held me when my first girlfriend broke my heart. And she took a bazillion pictures when I went out on my first date."

Sam laughed bitterly and Mercedes placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay to feel that way, Sam."

"No it's not!" Sam disagreed vehemently, "She _walked out_ on her family, Mercedes. She left us behind to our own fate because _she_ couldn't suffer anymore. I should hate her."

"Sam," Mercedes said calmly, "That's not all she was to you. One horrendous memory doesn't immediately erase seventeen years of good memories."

"That doesn't make it right," Sam stated.

"No it doesn't, and I'd like to drop kick your mother just as much as the next person," Sam smiled a little at that, but Mercedes continued, "but she did right by you when she was raising you. It doesn't excuse her actions and I'm not asking you to, but I just want you to think about that before you label her as enemy number one and let this taint all of your childhood memories. Because hatred can ruin the purest things and you don't deserve to look at all those fond times and have them become meaningless."

"Hating her is easier," Sam insisted stubbornly.

"Yeah it is, but it's also _exhausting_ and it makes _you_ bitter. _Forgiveness is for you_, Sam not for the person who wronged you. It gives you peace of mind."

"So I should just let her back in if she comes crawling back?" he asked angrily and Mercedes just looked directly into his eyes.

"_Hell no_," she said, "Forgiveness is not the same as forgetting. If that woman ever comes whimpering back here, I'd probably bitch stomp her face into the next millennium, but while she's not here—just know that it's okay to miss _your mother_ and not Elizabeth Evans."

His brow furrowed, Mercedes watched Sam contemplate her words. They sat there in silence as Mercedes worried about Sam and Sam considered what his friend was telling him. When she felt Sam relax a bit, Mercedes looked up. He smiled at her, and opened his mouth to speak, but Mercedes' phone went off.

She fished it out of her pocket and saw that she had a text from Finn.

_**Party at Puck's. U in?**_

Mercedes looked over at Sam, who was staring at her curiously. "You have any plans for tonight?" she asked and his blond eyebrows rose.

"No," he said, "Why?"

"There's a party at Puckerman's house tonight. Finn wanted to know if we would go." She stated.

"He asked about me and you?" Sam's voice was incredulous, before he said, "Why are they having a party on a _Sunday_?"

Mercedes shrugged. "No, he didn't ask about you directly, but I bet if you check your phone you have the same message." Looking dubious, Sam rummaged through his backpack and found that it was true—except his was from Quinn.

Sam thought about it for a moment, before saying, "Let's party!"

Mercedes held up a hand.

"You need to shower, and I need to get dressed," she told him. "Want to meet up there?"

"Alright," Sam agreed before they both replied to the text with a yes. Mercedes picked up her bag and walked to the door. Sam stopped her with a touch. She looked up at him and Sam leaned forward and wrapped her in a hug.

Mercedes smiled into his shoulder and hugged him back.

"Thank you for coming over today, Mercedes," Sam said, "I had a lot of fun."

"Night's not over, Blondie," she spoke with a smile. Sam rolled his eyes. "But you're welcome."

"See you at Puck's!" he called to her as she climbed into her vehicle. Sam leaned against the doorframe and waved when she drove out of the parking lot. He waited until he couldn't see her BMW anymore before he went inside to shower and change.

Tonight was going to be fun; he could already tell.

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><p><strong>April 18, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**3:07PM**

When Sam walked into Glee club, his new guitar swung over his shoulder, a cheer went up. Sam smirked at them all as he bro-hugged Puck and fist bumped with Artie. The blond sent a smile to Mercedes, who rolled her eyes at him. Mr. Schue clapped Sam on the shoulder and he turned his head to look at his teacher.

"You look happy, Sam," the curly-haired teacher said and Sam gave him a small smile.

"I had a good weekend," he replied and Mr. Schue smiled before letting him go. Sam moved through the risers and plopped down in a seat between Kurt and Mercedes. They both gave him smiles.

"For this week's assignment, I want you all to..." Sam tuned out Mr. Schue as he began explaining the assignment. He leaned over to Mercedes and nudged her shoulder to get her attention. She gave him a raised eyebrow.

"You know—you learn more when you pay attention to what the teacher has to say," Mercedes teased and Sam gave her a look. She laughed softly.

"We all know he's just going to repeat what he said tomorrow," Sam whispered back.

"And if he doesn't?" she asked, knowing that it had happened before.

"Then I ask Rachel," Sam replied and Mercedes snorted before she could stop herself. Sam straightened in his chair and pretended like he wasn't about to burst out laughing, but the look on Mercedes' face had his lips twitching.

"You know, I think its crazy cute when you snort like that," he told her when people stopped looking in their direction.

"Snorting is _not_ cute," Mercedes protested and Sam quirked his lips to the side.

"You do it," he pointed out and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm secure enough in myself that I can admit that not everything I do is cute," she told him and Sam smiled at her.

"I think it's adorable—reminds me of Piglet," he said and Mercedes gasped in indignation.

"_Piglet_, Sam?" she hissed at him, "Way to insult a girl."

"Piglet is crazy awesome! He was my favorite character on that show," Sam rebuked her. The expression on Mercedes' face was one of exasperated fondness. He grinned.

"Piglet had an anxiety disorder and was afraid of his own shadow," Mercedes said, "I am nothing like _piglet_." Sam thought the sneer in her tone was hilarious.

"Whatever you say, Cede," Sam replied, and for a moment, Mercedes thought he was done, but he let out a loud snort as soon as she'd relaxed in her chair. She reached out and smacked him on the arm, which made Sam laugh and lean away from her.

"_Boy_, don't make me pull out my afro ninja, because I will kick your _ass_, Blondie." She growled at him, which only made Sam laugh harder and snort again. Mercedes hit him on the shoulder and Sam finally moved to the other side of Kurt, who was staring between the two in amusement.

"That last one was an accident, _I swear_," Sam insisted as he held his hands up in mock terror. As upset as she looked, Mercedes didn't really seem all that mad and her punches hadn't hurt all that much. He knew she wasn't actually pissed at him. She shot him the stink eye, but relented.

"_Damn_, hot mama got some fire in her," Puck said from the lower risers. Lauren was smirking in amusement and Mercedes shot Puck a look.

"Keep talking like that Puckerman, and I'll light you a fire—one directly under your ass," Lauren said, "_This_ sexy lady doesn't share." Puck grinned at his girlfriend and Mr. Schue laughed.

"Are you finished abusing Sam, Mercedes?" he asked.

"For _now_," she replied which caused Sam to grin.

"Alright, back to the assignment—"Sam raised his hand and interrupted the teacher, who looked surprised. "Yes, Sam?"

"I know you were giving this week's assignment, but I've been preparing something and I wanted to play it for you guys."

"Sure," Mr. Schue agreed. "Come on up."

Sam grabbed his guitar from where he'd set it down.

"What song are you doing?" Rachel asked and Sam lifted his head to look at her.

"Put your records on by Corinne Bailey Rae," he responded and Mr. Schue's eyebrows rose. "Since it is a woman's song, I had to change up some of the chords and the key, but I think you'll like the new arrangement."

Sam started strumming the familiar melody and the musicians followed his lead. Sam was smiling as he started singing, "_**Three little birds, sat on my window.**_" He winked at Rachel who was dancing lightly in her chair. "_**And they told me I don't need to worry.**__**Summer came like cinnamon**__**; **__**so sweet,**__**little girls double-dutch on the concrete.**_"

Rachel and Quinn were singing along as Sam slowed the music for the next verse, "_**Maybe sometimes, we've got it wrong, but it's alright**__**. **__**The more things seem to change, the more they stay the same**__**. **__**Oh, don't you hesitate.**_"

"_**Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song**_," Sam sung, his eyes closing and he started dancing as he got into the music. Claps echoed around the room—all of the sound adding to the beat. "_**You go ahead, let your hair down**__**. **__**Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,**__**just go ahead, let your hair down,**_" he sang and Santana and Brittany joined in the chair dancing. The Latina's arms were in the air over her head as she danced in her seat. "_**You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow.**_"

"_**Blue as the sky, sun burnt and lonely,**__**sipping tea in a bar by the roadside**_," Sam voiced, the grin on his face completely infectious. Mercedes couldn't help but smile as he danced closer to the risers—his movements were still awkward and off beat, but he was having a good time and that was all that mattered.

He looked up at Mercedes and played his guitar for a minute, before he stopped and sung directly to her, "_**Don't you let those other boys fool you,**__** g**__**ot to love that afro hair do. Maybe sometimes, we feel afraid, but it's alright**__**. **__**The more you stay the same, the more they seem to change.**__**Don't you think it's strange?**_"

Sam could see the understanding in her eyes. She would understand the reference to the situation with his mom. Sam closed his eyes as he returned to playing his guitar. His life had changed so much in such a short time that Sam could barely stand to think about it all. But as he heard the Glee club members cheer—a smile crossed his face; he had great friends.

"_**Girl, put your records on**_," Sam sung his heart out and before he knew what was happening, Rachel was on her feet dancing and singing along with him, "_**Tell me your favorite song**__**. **__**You go ahead, let your hair down. Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,**__** j**__**ust go ahead, let your hair down.**__**You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow.**_" Brittany was dancing next to Sam and harmonizing with him.

"_**'Twas more than I could take, pity for pity's sake**__**. **__**Some nights kept me awake; I thought that I was stronger**__**. **__**When you gonna realize, that you don't even have to try any longer?**__**Do what you want to,**_" Sam hit the highest note he had ever sung in Glee club on that last word.

It made everyone laugh and cheer. Mike was performing some complicated looking dance move as the performance continued. Sam had to stop himself from laughing as Finn tried to copy the Asian.

He bobbed his head and maneuvered his fingers along the strings of his guitar. It felt so good to be singing and playing his guitar again. Tears rushed to his eyes. He had missed this. The feeling of freedom he got when rocking out on his instrument. "_**Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song**__**. **__**You go ahead, let your hair down**__**. **__**Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,**__** j**__**ust go ahead, let your hair down.**_"

Mercedes danced in front of him and Sam gave her a blinding smile as she led them all in a dance move. She sang back up for him—adding in echoes and singing the melody.

They sang together for the last chorus, "_**Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song**__**. **__**You go ahead, let your hair down**__**. **__**Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,**__** j**__**ust go ahead, let your hair down.**__**Oh, you're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow**__**.**_"

Sam played the last chord with a dramatic flourish and laughter filled the room as he was hugged from all sides. Mr. Schue was clapping. "Wow, Sam," he said, "That was incredible. I didn't think you had that type of jazzy blues in you, but you definitely made that song your own. Good job!"

"Welcome_ back_ to Glee club!" Tina joked and Sam laughed at the small girl.

"Thanks," he replied with a smile that made his cheeks hurt. Since all this drama had begun, Sam hadn't felt so happy. Thoughts of his mother still plagued him and he knew that the pain wasn't going to disappear immediately. But being angry all the time was tiring and he had no desire to make himself miserable—there was plenty in his life that did that for him.

After Sam's stellar—if he said so himself—performance, Mr. Schue went on to explain that he wanted them to find a song about falling in love—but not the classic love song. He wanted something unique—a way of becoming more to someone in a funny or silly way—something that expressed the fact that no one loves the same way and everyone's love story is special.

Sam was interested to see what the others would come up with. And then Mr. Schue started talking about Nationals, "I think we should stick with what got us this far—and we should write our own original songs." He held up the rhyming dictionary. "So let's use the last hour of rehearsal and get to work."

The rest of Glee club passed with the standard drama between Quinn, Rachel and Finn, but the lighthearted humor in between more than made up for it. When they were all about to leave, Finn cleared his throat.

"Anyone up for some _Call of Duty_ at the Hummel house? We've got plenty of snacks—"Finn was interrupted by Kurt.

"And healthy foods for those of us who don't want to look like Lumberjack Bob over here," Kurt stated and Finn gave him an insulted look.

"Dude, lay off my flannel," he told his brother. "I don't make fun of your clothes."

"You totally do, Finn," Kurt said, "You call my Marc Jacobs bag—a _purse_ and you dressed a blow up doll in my gold Gucci trousers and named him _Mr. Sparkly_." Finn's smile was smug as he remembered that one.

The two looked like they were about to start bickering and Tina cleared her throat, "You were saying, Finn?"

The tall football player looked confused for a moment, before he remembered what he was talking about beforehand. "Oh, yeah, it'll just be a laid back party thing. You can bring homework and stuff, but when you get bored we can just chill."

There were shrugs and nods all around the room. Sam just kind of stared around the room—avoiding everyone's gaze.

He didn't have his truck anymore—his dad's car had finally given out this morning, so Sam handed the keys over to his father without his dad even asking for it. Even though dad had gotten a job, they didn't have enough to pay for any car repairs and it would be two weeks before his dad got a paycheck anyway—it would be measly because he was technically only working about five or six hours during the consultation meetings and he wouldn't be able to afford everything anyway.

So Sam was now a permanent walker. He didn't want to draw attention to this fact though. He kind of stood there, shuffling his feet and shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He wanted to go to Finn's house, but he had no way there and no way back home.

He was honestly surprised when he felt a hand fall on each of his shoulders. Santana stood on his left side and Brittany was on his right. He looked between them; feeling nervous and self-conscious.

"What?" he asked.

"You looked sad," Brittany said, "Do you need another cuddle?"

"Uh," Sam stuttered and Santana looked amused.

"Look trouty, you seemed a bit blue—and I figured you needed a ride." Sam stared at her.

This was some twilight zone, wasn't it? _Santana being nice? What the hell?_

"I saw you walking on my way to school this morning, so I'm offering you a ride, big lips, so you can accept it or not."

"Uh, yeah," Sam finally replied and he looked between the two of them. Brittany was smiling and Santana rolled her eyes. "Thanks."

She walked away from him, pulling Brittany with her. Sam wasn't the most observant, but he definitely saw Santana entwine her fingers with the blonde. His eyebrows rose, but he refrained from saying anything.

It was kind of hot, anyway. The thought made him smirk as he hurried to catch the two girls on their way out of the door. Time to have another makeshift Glee party and reminiscing on last night—he had to smile. They had played some fast and furious rounds of table tennis and cool-aid pong—they all remembered the promise they had made to Mr. Schue about not drinking until after Nationals.

In the end, it was Artie who had spanked them all in the tournament. The look on Puck's face when Artie slapped a ball so hard that it bruised his junk was _priceless_. He had gone down like a sack of potatoes and Sam, Blaine, Mike, and Finn were crying from laughter.

Artie had just looked smug and asked for the next contestant. Rachel and Mercedes had another diva off—singing the song "Halo" by Beyonce. A dance party had taken place in Puckerman's basement in which Brittany and Mike showed everybody up. They had all cleared out by midnight. It was fun and Sam enjoyed telling his dad all about it. His father had waited up for him and actually asked about his day and why the room was so clean.

Sam felt weirded out by the sudden interest in his life, but he was grateful at the same time. He enjoyed talking to his dad—something he'd probably never admit, but he felt close to his father for the first time in the past year.

Sam smiled again until Santana barked at him to hurry up and get in her car. Aware of his surroundings again, Sam climbed into the backseat of the silver Nissan and closed the door, just before Santana drove off.

It was time to party—Glee style.

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><p><strong>REVIEW! I love hearing your feedback! What do you think of Sam and Mercedes' friendship? And the other Glee club members? Thanks guys! :)<strong>


	8. More To A Mother

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter.**

**I can't believe that I broke 100 reviews! And I'm nowhere near finished with this story. Haha. Thank you guys so much! Enjoy this chapter, because the story is about to go full speed ahead! I hope you continue enjoying the ride! :D Happy reading!**

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><p><strong>April 18, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**The Hummel House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**6:07PM**

The drive to Finn and Kurt's house was only fifteen minutes, but Brittany had insisted on stopping to get food for the party and apparently, Santana knew just how grumpy she got when she didn't have her gummy worms.

Santana bought chips, soda, and lots of gummy worms for Brittany. Sam could've sworn he overheard the blonde say something about sweet lady kisses, but he saw the death glare on Santana's face and pretended that he didn't hear a thing. Sam had asked Santana if she would pick up Stevie and Stacey from the motel so his dad could get some work done. Santana did so because she thought the kids were cute and Brittany was happy to see them again.

Sam quickly explained everything to his father, who let him go—knowing that Sam would take good care of his siblings. Listening to Santana and Brittany chatting with his siblings was just as amusing as he'd thought it would be. Santana and Stevie shared a love of blunt speaking—their conversation was bizarre but hilarious. The two made snarky remarks back and forth to each other and Santana had a gleam of respect in her eyes by the time they got to Finn's house.

Stacey and Brittany were having a deep conversation about the importance of unicorns. When they pulled up to the nicely sized two story house, Sam felt a stirring of jealousy in the pit of his stomach.

The Hummel house looked nothing like his old home did, but seeing the house brought back memories of what he used to have—his own room, his own computer, and a mother. It threatened to completely erase the smile on his face.

Santana and Brittany had already grabbed the bags from the car and made their way to the front door with Stacey and Stevie following them. Sam acted like he was texting someone on his phone when Santana turned around to look at him.

"Are you coming or not, Kermit?" she questioned loudly as Kurt and Mercedes opened the door for the four that stood on the steps. Stacey jumped into Kurt's arms with a joyous cry. He smiled lovingly at the girl.

"I'll be there in a second," he called back, still looking at his phone. He heard Santana say whatever as Kurt led her, the kids and Brittany inside the house. He waited for a moment and heard the door close, before he leaned forward and rested his forehead against the roof of the car.

These moods always came so suddenly. It was the small things that reminded him of her the most and it was always unpredictable. Sam took a deep breath, just trying to turn off his thoughts, but he could see her clearly in his head. He remembered her laughter and how her curly blonde hair would bounce every time she sang and danced her way around the kitchen.

His mom used to be so happy. When did she lose it completely and change into the woman that could walk out on her family? He thumped his head against the roof of the car—unfortunately it was a bit too hard and his eyes watered from the blow.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath as he rubbed a hand across the sore spot.

"Sam?" The sound of Mercedes' voice less than a foot away made him jump in surprise. She looked amused when he spun around to look at her, but her amusement faded when she saw his watery eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he snapped irritably, "I was just playing _Rambo_ with my skull for no good reason."

Mercedes' expression was incredulous. "Boy, you better watch who you're talking to that way," she snapped back, "I'm not Santana. I don't use my _words_ when someone talks down to me."

Sam instantly felt guilty as Mercedes glared at him. "Now you can tell me what's wrong, or you can stand here and sulk on your own." Looking at her disappointed face, he avoided her gaze as he moved to the back of Santana's car and slid to the ground. He heard her sigh as she came around the side of the vehicle and looked at him, before she plopped down beside him.

"Sam," she said quietly and Sam dropped his head onto the back bumper of the car, "What's wrong?"

"I just can't stop thinking about her," he admitted, "And it always happens at the wrong times! It pisses me off that I can't enjoy myself without her face popping up in my head."

"It happens to everyone, Sam," Mercedes told him and Sam scoffed. Mercedes placed a hand on his arm. "I'm serious. We always remember the bad things that happen to us more than we think of the good times."

"Why, though?" Sam implored, "Why would our brains be hardwired to remember all the crap?"

"The bad things that happen to us—it builds character, and the good things—they're the moments that make all the suffering worth it." Mercedes said, "We don't always have the chance to see joy in our lives, but you should look for it in every moment. That joy; it's the reason people keep living."

"There's not a lot of it," Sam said bitterly and Mercedes laughed sadly.

"I know," she told him, "but that's what makes joy so great."

Sam looked at her like he'd never seen her before. What she was saying didn't make sense.

"Haven't you ever heard that absence makes the heart fonder?" Sam shrugged at her question and Mercedes rolled her eyes in fond amusement. "Think about the people who have had everything they've ever wanted—just handed to them. What kind of attitudes do they have? What type of relationships do they make? People who don't suffer—_they don't live either_. They can't appreciate something they've always had because it's never been taken away. It's why talented people usually hate themselves."

He had never heard anything like that before, but thinking about it—it did make sense in a very strange way. Sam looked at Mercedes. "How did you get so smart?" he questioned and Sam wasn't oblivious to the sad look that flashed in her eyes. She smiled at him dimly. It was a pathetic example of her usually blinding smile.

"Mercedes," he said and she shook her head.

"You've got enough on your mind," she replied and Sam stared her down.

"This friendship—it works _both_ ways," he told her, "And even though I've got a lot going on in my head right now, there's always room in my noggin for you." She laughed lightly.

"Crazy white boy," Was her reply.

"Cede," Sam said sternly and Mercedes waved him away.

"I promise to tell you some other time," she said and Sam stopped himself when he noticed the semi-desperate look in her hazel eyes. "I just don't want to get into it right now. It's kind of a long story."

"Okay," Sam acquiesced reluctantly. He didn't like seeing Mercedes hurting. He would definitely be talking to her soon. And if it was a guy, he would beat the crap out of whoever it was. No one hurt his friends and got away with it.

"Come on, Blondie," she said regaining her humor as Sam stood. She stretched a hand out to him and he gladly took her hand and pulled her up. He tossed an arm over her shoulder as they walked up to the door.

"Thanks for talking with me," Sam told her and Mercedes smiled at him.

"You've got to stop thanking me for everything," she teased, "I'm going to grow a complex."

"What? I've got to show my appreciation," he replied.

"We're _friends_," she said, "You don't need to thank me every time we talk about something other than cherry juice boxes."

"I'll think about it." Sam responded and Mercedes turned her gaze heavenward in frustration, before they walked inside the Hummel house. A wall of sound met their ears. Sam could clearly hear Finn rocking out on the drums and he could hear them all singing the end of, "Forget You" by Ce-Lo Green.

When Mercedes and Sam walked down the stairs and into the basement—the Glee party was in full swing. "Finally!" Finn yelled across the room as he spotted Sam walking inside, "We can start the tournament."

A cacophony of battle cries came from the guys in the room—with the exception of Kurt who was cheerfully showing Tina some outfits in the new Vogue magazine.

"Wait, wait, wait _Gigantor_," Santana interrupted. "You promised that you would play 'So What' by Pink with me." Finn looked torn between disappointment that the tournament couldn't start—and excitement about playing a rock song.

Santana's fierce glare settled that debate though and he picked up his drumsticks. "Let's do this," he said with a grin. Santana waited until the beat started before she began singing. Sam walked over to check on Stevie and Stacey—they were sitting beside Artie.

"What are you guys up to?" he asked them as he bent down to lay a kiss on Stacey's head and ruffle Stevie's hair.

"Homework," Stacey replied as she scribbled on a math worksheet. Sam smiled in approval.

"Yeah," Stevie piped up, "They said we could have ice cream and pizza if we finished before seven-thirty!" Sam's brow furrowed. He couldn't afford to pay for any pizza—especially if they were ordering out. He pulled out his wallet and was startled when a chocolate-colored hand slapped his fingers.

"What are you doing, Blondie?" Mercedes demanded and Sam blinked at her.

"I have to pay for the pizza and ice-cream." He said and Mercedes raised an eyebrow.

"It's taken care of, Sam," Mercedes told him in a whisper. Not that anyone could hear their conversation over Santana's singing.

"I'm not going to have people paying for my family's stuff, Mercedes," he protested.

"Look," Mercedes told him, "We want you to relax and have a good time. Stop worrying about money. Burt and Carol insisted on paying for everything anyway."

Seeing nothing but honesty in her eyes, Sam relented. When he put his wallet away, Mercedes shot him a smug smile and Sam rolled his eyes. Soon enough, he was dragged into a fierce video game tournament that turned incredibly entertaining, because Puck hated losing, and he started slapping people as a diversion.

Sam couldn't help but laugh when Puck was playing with one hand and slapping at Sam's controller with the other. They ended up practically wrestling for the wireless controllers. Sam had Puck in a head lock and stole his joystick and made Puck's character start hitting himself.

Finn was on the floor, guffawing and Artie couldn't breathe he was laughing so hard. Puck elbowed him and Sam loosened his grip which gave Puck the upper hand. Sam ended up winning the match anyway. He threw his arms in the air with a shout of, "Victory, bitches!"

Of course, in all the excitement, he'd forgotten that his sibl_i_ngs were in the room, but he was reminded when a scandalized Stacey yelled, "Sammy,_ language_!"

Sam blushed and his friends burst into laughter. Eventually, Sam lost to Finn and Finn had to play Artie. He walked over to the table where Mercedes, Rachel and Tina were doing homework and sat down, pulling his books out of his backpack.

"Gave up on the tournament?" Tina asked, and Sam shook his head.

"Nah, Finn beat me in the last round," he told her, "I had to do homework anyway." They smiled at him and got down to business. Periodically, he looked up to check on Stevie and Stacey but they were constantly being entertained by Glee members and when the pizza came—they were fed well.

He was struggling with a math problem and Mercedes helped him with it. The laughter and fun continued until almost eleven at night. Stevie and Stacey had passed out on the couch from playing all afternoon and Mercedes offered to drive them home.

When they got there, she helped carry them inside and Sam asked Mercedes for her phone number. She gave it to him and he told her to prepare to be texted obnoxiously every day. Mercedes just rolled her eyes and walked away, but not before they shared a hug.

* * *

><p><strong>April 20, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**The Music Shop**

**Lima, Ohio**

**4:17PM**

Sam knew it was a bad idea—a _terrible_ idea, even. He hadn't been back to _The Music Shop_ in almost two weeks. He hadn't even been able to force himself to return after everything that had gone down with his mother. At first it was because of the official fact that he'd never see his baby again, but then he just got so caught up in everything going on around him that he'd hadn't had a chance to come by.

Now that he was standing in front of the window, he realized what a terrible mistake this whole excursion was. Seeing his guitar brought him back to his mother and his money problems—it wasn't the best moment of his life. Sam stood there staring for god knows how long. It was only when a woman knocked on the glass window from the inside—right in front of his face—that he snapped out of his trance.

He blinked at the sight of Miss Lynn standing there, watching him with a concerned frown on her features. She gave him a smile when she realized that she had his attention. And she beckoned him inside her shop.

Taking a deep breath, Sam walked over and stepped through the doors. "Why, hello darlin'," she greeted cheerfully and Sam had to smile at her.

"Hi Miss Lynn," he replied and Lynn grinned at him.

"How are you, honey?" she asked as she placed her hands on her hips and looked him over. Sam blushed at the scrutiny. Silently, he hoped he didn't look too much like a dork. He was wearing a purple hoody with dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt.

"I'm doing good," Sam told her and she gave him a smile. "How are you?"

"Oh, darlin', I'm doing alright." she gushed, "I've actually had more customers come inside, but it's definitely not what it used to be. Especially since most people buy their music online nowadays." Sam watched her pick up a large cardboard box and he took it from her hands. She gave him a grateful smile, before picking up the smaller box that had been sitting next to the large one. "Thank you, Sam."

"Are you going out of business?" he asked in concern. He was one of those people who frequented the iTunes store but he loved going to actual music stores. It was a different experience than shopping online. And since he didn't have an iPod anymore it gave him a different perspective on the whole thing.

"Nothing that drastic, darlin'," she told him with a reassuring smile as she led him to the back room. He followed her into the room and watched as she used her foot to toe open the partially ajar door to the storage room. "I'm doing fine, but I'm going to have to rethink my business plans for the future. It includes a bit of expansion." She said and winked at him after she'd set her box down.

"Where would you like me to put this?" he asked and she pointed to a corner on the left hand side of the room. Sam walked over and put it down, before following her out of the room. "What do you mean expansion?"

"Well, I'm opening my own café—and it's going to have a stage for live music every week and I'm going to connect it to my music shop." Lynn said and Sam grinned at her enthusiasm. Lima was big on music—not really show choir but the idea was a good one and he figured it would do great with the teen crowd. It would give them somewhere besides _Breadstix_ to go on dates.

"Any ideas for a name?" he questioned and Lynn gave him a big grin.

"It's going to be called _Clarity_," she replied and Sam made a noise of interest. It was a different name for sure, but it was catchy yet simple.

"When are you going to have it open?" Sam asked as Lynn walked behind the counter.

"Well, I already have the building—it just needs design and renovation work," she told him, before going over to check out the only customer in the store. When Sam joined her by the register, she gave him a smile.

"And how long will that take?" he asked. Lynn's eyebrows rose and she smirked at him.

"That depends on how long your father will take to come up with a design that I approve of," she told him and Sam's jaw dropped.

"What?" he asked, gaping. She laughed heartily.

"Your dad is my new architect," Lynn replied, "I hired him this past weekend. And with his advanced degree and previous experience, I thought he'd be perfect for the job."

"How did you know about his degree?" Sam questioned.

"I took a chance—hoping that he had some experience and God came through for both me and him. I just asked and he answered. He gave me a copy of his resume and I hired him on the spot."

Sam stared at her for a second. "Why did you ask him?"

Lynn smiled. "Because of you."

"What do you mean?" Sam queried.

"The day you walked into my shop, I got a conviction so strong—just to help you in any way that I could. And you were so sweet and adorable that I couldn't help myself." Lynn replied.

Sam stared at Lynn in disbelief. This woman went out on a limb for him? _A kid she'd met once_. When did people start being so nice? Was this what normal people did? Help people they'd just met randomly on the street? The sense of gratitude Sam felt was enough to prove overwhelming.

His throat got tight and he looked away from Lynn's soft expression. "Sam, darlin', what's wrong?"

"I-I just, uh," Sam tried to speak but his thoughts were moving so fast that they were practically incomprehensible. Lynn's hand on his shoulder brought him out of his head. He looked at her and she gave him a worried smile.

"Why don't I close up here and we can go grab some coffee at the café a couple of blocks over?"

"Don't you close at six, though?" Sam asked as Lynn grabbed her cardigan, purse, and keys from under the counter.

"Honey, I'm not in huge demand at the moment." She stated as she gestured around the empty store. Sam glanced around before looking back at her as she slid on her cardigan.

"What if someone comes by?" he asked concerned. "Don't you need the sales?"

Lynn gave him a fond smile. "I happen to think you are more important than one or two sales that I could make." Sam stared at the woman as she turned off the lights and activated the alarm system. Sam walked out of the door and Lynn changed the sign to closed, before locking the door and following him outside.

* * *

><p><strong>April 20, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**Lima Bean Cafe**

**Lima, Ohio**

**4:44PM**

Sam stared into his caramel macchiato with extra whipped cream, chocolate syrup and graham cracker shavings. He and Lynn had arrived only a few minutes ago, and he hadn't known what to say.

Lynn solved the problem by saying, "Is everything okay at home?" The number one question Sam had been expecting and dreading at the same time.

He debated on lying for a brief moment, but when he looked up and met Lynn's eyes, his small ability to be deceptive completely disappeared. He sighed heavily and slumped back in his chair.

"Things are," Sam searched for words, "_different_."

Lynn tilted her head to the side and Sam closed his eyes. There was something about Lynn that just made him feel safe—safer than he felt with Mercedes even.

"Sam?" she asked and he cracked. The whole story came pouring out in vivid detail. He told her things that he hadn't even told Mercedes or his father. He started at the move to Lima from Tennessee and how his mom lost her job. He talked about falling for Quinn—even the promise ring he gave her and how she stomped all over his heart by cheating on him with Finn. And then he talked about Santana and how she used him for making out and popularity.

He told her about how he'd been feeling like an outsider in his own family because his parents had been caught up in all the drama. He spoke about how his mother slowly pulled away from them all. He even admitted that he'd slept with Santana and how guilty he felt about it because he'd never been that into her. She was hot sure, but he only dated her to gain status. And now he suspected she was lesbian and he wondered if it was his fault.

Then he talked about people in Glee club, but when he mentioned Mercedes, Lynn's face lit up. And she told him about him being Mercedes' pseudo-aunt. Sam was surprised, but then again he actually wasn't. Now that he thought about it—Miss Lynn and Mercedes had similar outlooks and demeanors. When he started talking again, Lynn just listened and he slowly told her about the situation with his mother.

The curly-haired woman wasted no time in taking his hand in hers when he told her about how she left and his less than great reaction to it. Sam's eyes were red and his mouth felt dry by the time he finished speaking. He felt especially vulnerable because she now knew things about him that he hadn't told anybody else. It didn't help that the topic was a raw wound being poked at.

"Can I ask you something, Miss Lynn?" Sam asked quietly and Lynn nodded.

"Of course you can, darlin'," she replied, "You can ask me anything."

"_Why_ did she leave?" Sam whispered. And _this_, this was the heart of the problem. Every single day, Sam wondered why. Why would she walk out?

"Was it _me_, Miss Lynn?" he asked, the back of his eyes prickling. "Did I do something wrong? I know I should've done more, but I was trying so hard and I didn't know what else to do. I should've done something—"

"Oh, no, no, baby, _no_," she interrupted Sam and grasped both his hands. When Sam glanced at her, Lynn looked horrified—her eyes were huge and teary. "You are _not_ to blame for _any _of this, do you understand me? I can't tell you exactly what your mother was thinking when she walked out on her family, but I can promise you that she's gonna realize what a mistake she's made somewhere down the line—if she hasn't already."

Sam tried looking away from her, because he couldn't prevent the tears, but Lynn stopped that immediately.

"You look at me, Samuel," she demanded and Sam instantly obeyed. He had never heard such a firm tone in a woman's voice before—he certainly hadn't expected it from the small lady sitting in front of him.

"_You did nothing wrong_. You are an amazing child, and you've got a wonderful heart, darlin'."

Sam couldn't stop his cheeks from flushing red at the compliments and Lynn smiled at him.

"Not many teenagers have the heart to walk into a stranger's store and sell something so _precious _to them for their family's happiness. Looking at you, I can tell that you _think _you're selfish and worthless and useless, but you _aren't_. I haven't seen such love and potential in someone in a long time. I don't know what your mother was thinking, but she obviously forgot that there is more to being a mom than giving birth."

Sam could feel her earnest words soothing doubts that he'd held for so long. "You really think that about me?"

"Yes," Lynn told him, "I wouldn't have said it otherwise." Sam gave a tearful laugh and Lynn squeezed his hands. He glanced down at his watch absentmindedly and freaked when he saw that it was almost seven o'clock at night.

His shift started at 7:15. Cursing under his breath got him a stern look from Lynn and he apologized for his rudeness. Laughing at his blush, Lynn paid for their coffee and they walked outside. Luckily for him, the pizzeria was only two blocks away from here and he wouldn't have to go far.

When Lynn was about to get into her car, Sam stopped her with a hand on her arm. She looked up at him with a curious smile. His face was on fire, but he would regret it if he didn't do this.

"Can I hug you?" he mumbled and Lynn's look of confusion turned into delighted amusement.

"Of course, darlin'," she told him as she opened her arms to him. Sam embraced her tightly.

"Thank you," he said when they pulled away. Lynn chucked the bottom of his chin with her hand and smiled.

"Anytime, honey," she replied. "If you need me, just stop by or pester Mercedes for my phone number."

He chuckled at that and watched her climb into the driver side of her car. She waved at him and Sam waved back, before she drove off down the street.

Sam glanced at the time and went sprinting down the street to the pizzeria, where both his job and his truck were waiting. He'd driven straight to work after dropping his dad and the twins off at the motel. Then since he was so early, he'd taken a walk and ended up at Lynn's store.

He was really happy that he did. And he hoped his boss wouldn't curse him out if he was late.

* * *

><p><strong>April 22, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**Pirate Pizzeria **

**Lima, Ohio**

**12:05AM**

"You want me to_ what_?" Sam asked incredulously. He had gotten off work five minutes ago and as soon as he'd gotten into his truck—Mercedes called him. Curious, he answered—wondering why she would call so late.

"I want you and your family to stay the weekend at my house," she replied and Sam's eyebrows rose on his head. "It's just two days, Sam, and my parents really want to meet you!"

It was still weird and he said as much. Mercedes sighed. "Look, I want your family out of that damn motel room for a couple of days, because I_ know_ you hate it. Please at least consider it?"

Sam was amused that she knew him so well already; though it probably wasn't hard to guess that he hated staying there. "Fine," he replied, "but my dad has to agree to this. I'll let you know in the morning and we'll figure it out from there?"

He could practically feel her smile. "Okay!" she said.

Sam couldn't stop his lips from quirking. It did sound like a good idea, and friends had sleepovers all the time—it just wasn't usually with a boy and a girl and their families. So far, being friends with Mercedes had been an adventure. She constantly made him laugh and she was easy to talk to about his problems.

He hadn't been able to figure out what had been getting her down lately, but if his dad agreed—this weekend would be the perfect excuse to get some answers from her. And if her family was anything like Mercedes, then he was in for a potentially awesome weekend.

"Tell your dad that there will be _barbecue_ and swimming and vicious board game matches."

Sam started up his truck as he asked, "What kind of board games? Like Candyland?"

Mercedes snorted. "Monopoly is more the game of choice."

"Which version do you have?" he asked seriously, "And _think_ about your answer because our very friendship depends on it."

Mercedes laughed on the other end. "We are a _Lord of the Rings_ family, Blondie."

"Oh, you are _awesome_." Sam crowed into the phone. Now he was excited. He had yet to meet a girl with a Lord of the Rings version of Monopoly. How had he not spoken to this girl before? She could quote _Braveheart_ and she owned the greatest version of Monopoly ever.

"You're just realizing that _now_, Sam?" she teased.

"Nope," he retorted, "Just be prepared to get whipped at Monopoly."

"Whatever you say, Blondie," she said, her voice amused. "Boy, you just wait; I will take you _down_ and _around town _with my strategizing skills."

Sam laughed and Mercedes joined in. "I gotta go," he said, "but I'll call you in the morning."

"You promise to actually ask him?"

"Of course, I'm going to ask him. I have just been _challenged_." He replied.

"Ah, the gauntlet was thrown and now you must pick it up to keep your honor?" she asked.

She knew what a gauntlet was? Sweet Avatar, she is the most awesome girl _ever._

"Something like that," he responded, "I'll talk him into it."

"Use the puppy dog eyes!" she told him, "And pout—it's very effective."

"Yeah," Sam said with a laugh, "for girls."

Mercedes huffed at him and he smiled. "Talk to you tomorrow!" he told her and Mercedes returned the sentiment. They hung up with a quick goodbye.

And Sam drove home—ready to _beg_ his father to go to Mercedes' house.

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><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! :) Until next time!<strong>


	9. Where You Belong

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter. **

* * *

><p><strong>April 23, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**10:07AM**

Mercedes was nervous as all get out. She kept running back and forth from room to room—making sure that everything was clean and in order. On her third lap of the house, her father finally caught her round the waist and halted her in her tracks.

"Slow your roll, baby girl," he told her—his voice a booming tenor. David Jones was a big man—he had worked in the military as a corporal officer for twelve years and he went to dentistry school with the financial backing of the military. He was a solid six foot five wall of muscle, but his face was kind—_when he wanted it to be_.

He had a head full of short dark ringlets, chocolate skin, hazel eyes and dimples that appeared whenever he smiled. And of course the whitest teeth anyone had ever seen. Mercedes had the same thing—the perk of having a very successful dentist as a father. He had opened his practice after he retired from the military at age thirty. That was also when Mercedes' mother had gotten pregnant with her oldest brother, Jason.

His dentistry was twenty—almost twenty-one years in the making and he was one of the most highly accredited dentists in the world. At fifty-one, her father didn't look a day over thirty-five; something that had thoroughly surprised Kurt when he'd first met him.

Of course, Kurt being Kurt just went on to compliment her father on his incredible complexion and how he was jealous that he could keep such a figure in a society that has a tendency to be lazy. Her father had been beyond amused, and knew right away that Kurt was gay. Not that it took much, but some guys were oblivious.

"Why are you so worked up?" he asked—no matter what her father did, his voice was naturally strong and baritone; it was a great military voice and instead of scaring her, it was a thing of security. She felt inexplicably safe whenever she heard it. Mercedes could easily tell when he was being tender and when he was upset about something. "This isn't the first time you've met this boy's family, and I doubt that he's changed his opinion of you in the last twenty four hours."

"I know daddy," Mercedes told him. "I just don't want him to think of me differently because of how much money you have."

David's eyebrows rose. "From what you've told us about Sam, baby girl, I honestly don't think he's going to do that. You're still the same person you were when you saw him at school yesterday—only change is that he'll know that your family is well off."

"But—"she started, but she was cut off by her mother wrapping her in a hug from behind.

"Sweetheart, it will be fine," Her mother, Delia Jones said and Mercedes leaned into the embrace.

"I should have told him before," she said with regret, but her mother made her turn around to face her. Delia Jones was a _beautiful _woman.

She was curvaceous and had long black hair that fell to her mid back. A mocha complexion, bluish-gray eyes, and a breathtaking smile; she wore a white tank top with a burnt orange sweater over it and a pair of dark skinny jeans with pearl flats. Delia placed her hands on Mercedes' cheeks and looked her straight in the eyes.

"Everything will be fine, Mercy," she promised, "If he reacts badly—then he's not worth your time, but I have a feeling that Sam won't even care. Don't react prematurely, my love."

Mercy was doubtful. She hadn't brought anyone from the Glee club over to her house before—with the exception of Kurt and Quinn, who had promised not to say anything. So far the blonde had kept her word. She learned to be cautious after an incident during her middle school years, and she really hoped that Sam would react the way she wanted him too.

"Okay momma," she replied and Delia gave her a smile. Her mother was the epitome of success. She'd come from a home ground in poverty and heartbreak and she made it through law school at the top of her class. Now she owned her own prominent law firm that had offices in over fifteen states. Her parents frequently flew places, but they made sure that one was there when the other wasn't and they always called every day they were gone.

There were only a few times a year that Mercedes was left alone with both her older and younger siblings. She had three younger—Annabelle who was six, Trey who was seven, and Jasper who was three and there were four older—Jason who was almost twenty-one, Derek who was nineteen, Joshua and Kyler who were twins and eighteen.

Her older brothers were all at Ohio State, helping Jason pack up his dorm to head back home for the summer. They wouldn't be back until around five o'clock. And the younger kids were currently in the first floor playroom near the peach parlor—it was called that because the color scheme was different shades of peach and brown.

Kurt had gushed over her mother's interior decorating skills for about twenty minutes when he came over. It had been pretty hilarious.

Mercedes house had four floors, plus a basement which was the ultimate getaway for Mercedes. She could hardly wait to show Sam everything. She really hoped he wouldn't react badly, because she had a state of the art gaming system downstairs with surround sound and she wanted someone else to share her admiration. Quinn had a knack for video games but would never admit it.

Kurt was awesome, but he didn't care too much for electronics. And that was a big thing with Mercedes. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. She could feel her face light up and her heart started racing.

"He's here!" she squeaked, before she bolted into the foyer and towards the cherry oak and glass front door, yelling, "Coming!"

She heard her parents laugh at her antics. There was a stampede of feet as the younger kids followed Mercedes' lead to the door and her parents came at a more sedate pace.

* * *

><p>Sam wouldn't admit it, but he was totally gob smacked. He'd expected a nice house—one with a garden and a porch, but what he was staring at looked like the celebrity homes in Hollywood. It couldn't even be called a house! It was more of a mansion or an estate.<p>

Built entirely of red brick with white trimmings, the house looked a bit like a work of art. His dad had driven through the front gates with his jaw hanging. Sam's eyes were bugging out of his head as they finally came to a stop near a flight of stone steps that led up to a cherry oak and glass door.

His family sat there in the parked truck for a moment, just staring. Sam took the time to double check the address that Mercedes had given him, but it seemed they were definitely at the right house.

"Does Cede live with the President?" Stacey asked and Sam laughed.

"No," Stevie told her, "The President lives in the _White_ House. This place isn't white." The seven-year old looked exasperated.

"Well maybe this is his summer home!" she retorted—Sam could tell she was mad that Stevie had talked down to her. "Even the President needs a vacation, Stevie." Sam glanced over his shoulder at the two in the backseat and Stacey was totally giving her twin the stink-eye.

"He has a country to lead," Stevie snapped back, "He doesn't have time for a _vacation_. Especially not in a place like Ohio."

"Stop acting like someone _peed_ in your cheerios! You don't have to be so mean." She threw back at him.

The glare of outrage on Stevie's face was priceless. His face was bright red and if looks could kill, Stacey probably would've dropped dead.

"Guys, that's enough." His father ordered and the twins exhaled identical huffs of frustration. It made an amused grin crawl its way onto Sam's face before his dad clapped him on the shoulder. "Grab the bags from the back, Sam. We shouldn't keep them waiting."

Sam nodded at him and unbuckled his seatbelt. He hopped out of the cab of the truck and glanced over the house again, before walking to the truck bed and lifting the duffle bag of their stuff out of the back. He grabbed his backpack and tossed it over his left shoulder, before hefting the strap of the duffle onto his right shoulder.

He led them up the steps to the front door and rang the doorbell. There was silence for a moment before he heard Mercedes' unmistakable voice yell, "Coming!" from behind the door. Without his permission a smile formed on his face.

Less than ten seconds later, the latch clicked and Mercedes swung the door open. She wore a white t-shirt and a pair of dark skinny jeans with a bright purple cardigan that had thin horizontal white stripes. Her hair looked like it had been crimped and curled.

Before she could even open her mouth to say anything, Stacey squealed, "Cede! You look so pretty!" before taking a running leap past Sam and straight into Mercedes' arms. She laughed as she hugged the seven-year old.

"Thank you, Stacey," she replied, "You look beautiful today as well. Is that a new dress?" The mini-blonde was wearing a dark blue, long-sleeved dress that had light blue horizontal stripes going all the way across. Her wavy hair was down and she had her white butterfly clip on one side of her head.

Sam was mentally preparing to work out at the gym more. He would have his work cut out for him if he was going to keep the douche bags away from his sister.

"Yeah! It's one that Santana gave me." Stacey told the older girl and Mercedes smiled at her as she sat the blonde down on her feet.

"Well, Santana does have good taste," she said, "And I have a surprise for you that I think will go great with your outfit." Stacey looked excited. "Let me get everyone settled and I'll show you." The small girl nodded.

Mercedes looked up and smiled at his father. "Hi Mr. Evans," she greeted and his father shot her a look.

"It's _Jeff_, Mercedes," he spoke with a smile that Mercedes returned. "It's good to see you again."

She gave him a grin, but she was interrupted by a childish voice saying, "_Mercy!_ Open the door. I wanna see!" Before she could do anything, a small head poked out of the door—right beside Mercedes' leg.

It was a little girl, who had dark brown curls tumbling down past her shoulders and a mocha complexion. Her bluish gray eyes stared up at them curiously, before she shot them a smile with a couple of her teeth missing. As a boy, Sam was not allowed to coo over children, but she was seriously cute.

"Hullo!" The small girl greeted brightly. "I'm Annabelle." She walked directly to Sam and stuck her hand out. Withholding a chuckle, Sam squatted down so he could be at her height. He shook her hand.

"I'm Sam," he said and Annabelle grinned at him.

"You're _cute_," she replied seriously and then lurched forward and threw her arms around his neck. The hug caught Sam by surprise, but he hugged her back. He looked up at Mercedes and saw her grinning at him. He stuck his tongue out at her and stood up with the small girl in his arms.

"Will you be my boyfriend?" Annabelle asked and Sam immediately turned bright red with embarrassment. Mercedes laughing didn't help soothe his red cheeks. Neither did the fact that the door opened all the way behind her and two adults with two other small children appeared. They were all laughing.

"Uh," he started, "I'm a bit old for you, sweetheart." His answer got him a pout, and Mercedes only laughed harder. Sam shot her a half-amused and half-irritated look that only made her wink at him.

"That's _my_ brother, you know," Stacey interjected from where she was standing next to Mercedes. Sam's eyebrows rose when he noticed the jealousy on his little sister's face. Annabelle turned to look at her.

"Well, that's _my_ sister," she replied and the two narrowed their eyes at each other.

Sam put Annabelle down on the ground. "There's enough of me to go around, I promise." Sam said in amusement. Mercedes shook her head at him.

"Been at my house for ten minutes and you've already started drama," she teased, "I didn't think that your fan club allowed seven and under to participate."

Sam blushed at the comment and he gave her a sarcastic quirk of the lips. "It's not my fault I'm this hot," he told her, "I was born this way."

"Yeah, Blondie," Mercedes said with a roll of her eyes, "You came out of the womb with biceps and a six pack."

Sam laughed. "At least you noticed."

"How could I not? You always seem to be somewhere without your shirt on."

"I told you! I'm a work of art."

"You're a work of something, but I'm not sure if it's art."

"_Cede_, I have a small ego; you can't go around bruising my confidence like that," he whined dramatically.

"This coming from the guy who wore a pair of shiny gold shorts the size of your hand." As soon as she said it, Sam turned red. His father gave him a dubious look and Mercedes burst out laughing.

"It is _not_ how it sounds!" he protested, but Mercedes' giggling distracted him from reassuring his father. Looking at her clutching her stomach and laughing didn't help the fact that he felt his own amusement building. Now that he thought about it—it was kind of funny. After a few seconds, he couldn't stop the chuckles from escaping.

"Baby girl," a loud voice came from the giant man standing in the doorway. Sam almost jumped at the sound, but he restrained his reaction. He was sure his dad saw it though, because his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Maybe we should continue our introductions inside the house?"

Mercedes blushed before she ushered them into the house—shutting the door behind them. Her house was even more amazing on the inside and Sam couldn't stop himself from staring around the room in awe.

"Mom, Dad," Mercedes said, "This is the Evans family—Jeffrey, Stacey, Stevie, and Sam."

"Evans family—this is my family—David and Delia," she said as she pointed them out. "These are my siblings—Annabelle, Trey," Mercedes brought attention to a young boy about the same height as Stevie who had short hair cut close to his scalp and bright hazel eyes. "And this is Jasper."

She motioned to a toddler in Delia's arms—he had a head full of dark curls and bluish gray eyes like his mother with a mocha complexion. Cute didn't even begin to describe the kid. He gave them a smile and a shy wave. "I have four older brothers, but they won't get here until later this afternoon," she said and Sam just blinked. Mercedes had a huge family!

Soon after the introductions were over, his dad started asking Mr. Jones about his dentistry and the adults were off in their own weird conversations.

Stacey and Annabelle had finished sizing each other up apparently, because they were holding hands and running towards the toy room—at least that's what he gathered it was from the snippets of conversation he could hear.

Stevie and Trey were talking. It seems that they knew each other from school. When they vanished to go play video games; Mercedes and Sam were left alone in the foyer. Mrs. Jones had taken Jasper into the kitchen with her.

Mercedes was avoiding his eyes. He could tell because she looked nervous. "Why didn't you tell me that you lived in a modern day castle?" he asked her with a grin. Mercedes looked surprised, then relieved.

"I didn't know how to say anything without feeling like I was rubbing it in your face," she confessed and Sam laughed.

"I know you're not homeless, Mercedes, and I could care less how much money you have. I'd be your friend if you lived in a cardboard box." He told her.

"Really?" she asked and Sam walked closer to her and tossed his arm over her shoulder.

"You did it for me," he replied and Mercedes beamed up at him. He squeezed her arm before he let go and glanced around. "This place is pretty incredible. I think I'd get lost if I lived here."

Mercedes winked at him. "Don't worry; you have a Marauder's map right next to you." Sam's eyes lit up as he laughed.

"Do you insult strangers for sticking their noses in places they don't belong?" he joked.

"Of course," she sniffed, "Such talent for acerbic wit can't be wasted."

Sam laughed. "Alright, Prongs—where do we go first?"

"Why am I the deer?" Mercedes demanded in mock anger. "You being racist?"

"No," Sam responded, "If I was being racist, I would've called you Padfoot. He's the black one."

Mercedes burst out laughing and Sam chuckled too. "Come on, Blondie—I'll show you all the secret passages."

"There are secret passages?" Sam asked incredulously and Mercedes smiled at him.

"_Maybe_," she sing-songed before she moved towards the staircase with Sam in tow.

"Can I put my bags down?" he asked, and Mercedes gasped—she had totally forgotten about that. She took his backpack and then led him upstairs. It took well over an hour for Mercedes to show Sam every room in the house and since her room was on the fourth floor—she saved that one for last or second to last; she wanted the basement to be the last room she showed Sam.

When Mercedes opened the cherry oak door that led to her bedroom, Sam's eyes bugged out of his head. Her room was bright but tasteful. Her first wall was painted black with splatters of neon paint and glow in the dark solar system applications. The wall next to it was covered completely in magazine cutouts and framed pictures of her friends and family layered over top in neat rows and columns in the middle of the wall there was a glass door that led to an office type area where Mercedes had a mini library and state of the art study area.

The wall that was perpendicular to the black wall was painted in baby blues and purples and oranges with three trees spaced evenly across the wall. Their painted branches entwined together at the top of the wall and crept onto the ceiling. It had a door that led to her personal bathroom—being one of two girls in a family full of boys had its perks, she told him.

Her fourth wall was cattycorner to her third wall and large enough to fit the frame of a king sized bed that was elevated on a raised platform with three steps. The wall was solid white, but her bedclothes were a chaotic mix of colors—most of them neon—and her comforter was black with rainbow polka dots.

Her fifth wall was a barely visible shade of green and had a set of double doors that led to a balcony, where Sam could see white wicker patio furniture and a vase of colored daisies. Sam couldn't pick up his jaw.

He couldn't believe that this was a bedroom for one person, but he also thought it was pretty cool. Her room was a teenage dream come true, but if he had thought her room was awesome—it was nothing compared to the basement she led him into after they'd dropped the bags in the guest room on the third floor.

Sam fell in love. Her basement was spacious and clean. It had a huge black curved connector couch in the center of the room with a ridiculously large flat screen television—built into the wall. Of course he had goggled when he spotted the numerous game systems lined neatly on the glass shelf beneath the television. She had at least four controllers for each console in a cherry oak cabinet that ran alongside the television screen. On the far left side of the room, there was a wall of shelved games—separated by gaming console and genre.

There was a state of the art sound system built in the walls, ceiling, and furniture. The freakin' furniture had sound! Sam couldn't help the squeal that escaped him—especially when he noticed the fully stocked glass fridges in the corner and the pile of bean bags chairs on the other side of the room. She had a billiards table; arcade games, and was that a _hot tub_? Inside the house?

Sam was about to lose his mind with shock. He whirled around to face Mercedes and she almost burst a gut laughing at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he saw the stage behind her—with microphones and lights. His eye twitched and Mercedes started snorting.

Breathing deeply, he let her calm herself down before he said, "Why the hell have we not had Glee parties here, Cede? I mean—_have you seen this place_?"

Mercedes gave him a small smile. "I live here, so of course I've seen it." She replied and Sam quirked his lips at her. She rolled her eyes with a sigh. "I just don't want them to treat me any differently."

* * *

><p>Mercedes knew that this conversation would happen sooner or later—but she had been hoping for later, <em>much later<em>. Sam was giving her a look though and she knew that her time was running out quickly.

"Why would they treat you any differently, Mercedes?" he asked, "They're your friends. You've known them longer than I have and they still accepted me."

Sam's green eyes were full of concern and Mercedes couldn't stand to see him so worried; the fact that his worry was for her made her feel guilty.

Mercedes closed her eyes with a sigh. It looked like time was up. She stretched a hand to him and looking confused, Sam took it. Holding his warm hand in hers, Mercedes led him to the corner full of bean bags and dropped into one. Sam squeezed in next to her.

"My family wasn't always rich, Sam," she confessed and his green eyes focused on her. "My dad—he grew up in a home full of alcohol, gambling and drug abuse and my mother—she was raped as a child and her mother walked out on her family too."

She saw Sam's eyes widen in shock as he stared at her. Her heart was racing. She didn't know why she was telling him this part, but she decided to follow her heart and put her trust in him. At least she would know if he was a real friend at the end of all this.

"The reason my dad joined the military on his eighteenth birthday was so he wouldn't become like his own father. He wanted to make someone proud—even if the only someone would be God," Mercedes could feel herself getting choked up. Her father was an incredibly honorable man. It was why she found such strength in having faith. She believed that God was truly the only reason he had made a good life and name for himself.

"When my mom and dad met—they had nothing," she said, "My mother worked her way through high school, college and law school while my father was in the service. He traveled and did his schooling through the military because he couldn't afford a damn thing otherwise. But they got married after two years of being together, and they were quite the sorry couple. No credit between the two of them and a family history that would make anyone cringe, but somehow they made it."

Mercedes smiled a bit, but her heart was in her throat. The bad part was coming and she didn't know how she would even begin to explain it all. "In the first few years, they were dirt poor—living off of military salary while paying for higher education. After my dad got his degree and my mother graduated and had opened her law firm—things went downhill. My father struggled with his dentistry the first few years—people talked a lot and none of them had nice things to say. They would say, 'He didn't have enough experience, or he couldn't pay the rent, and some equipment got broken or stolen'—there were a million excuses to tarnish his reputation."

"People can be cruel when they feel threatened," Mercedes said her voice cracking ever-so-softly, "And they were smart enough to see talent and try to prevent it from being acknowledged but none of them were smart enough to _invest_ in it."

She shook her head, before she picked up her story once more, "They didn't actually start making money until the year I was born. We were dirt poor for five years after that though and I remember the people that took us in when we needed help. We're friends with them to this day."

Mercedes looked up and met Sam's eyes. His gaze was sad, but understanding. "The Ryans took a family of broken people into their hearts and home and showed us that compassion and kindness does exist in this world."

"That song I sang to you," she admitted, "It was the same song that my mother used to sing to me at night, whenever my father would come home—looking desperate and hopeless. Sometimes he couldn't even look at us because he was so ashamed of himself, and for a brief time—he turned to alcohol."

Mercedes felt her lips tremble as she avoided Sam's eyes. "Cede," Sam whispered as he reached out and grabbed her hand. "You don't have to tell me this if you don't want to."

Her breath hitching, Mercedes shook her head. "No, Sam, I want to." At that, Sam fell silent, but she felt him shift closer. She took a moment to get her thoughts back.

"He became a man I barely recognized. He appreciated the oblivion that alcohol granted him, but he clearly remembered his father's lifestyle and the guilt haunted him. For two months, we all thought that our lives were over. My father was rarely home and he didn't speak when he was, but my mom took it upon herself and forced him to see what he was doing to himself and his family."

She looked at Sam, her vision blurring with tears. "We may not have had money, but we'd _always had love_. And that was being ripped from us. The day my mother said, 'You are not the man I married, but I still love you' was the day that my dad came back _home_. He remembered that we were worth far more than alcohol had ever been."

Her chest felt tight. She had no desire to spill her secrets, but Sam was watching her with such trust and acceptance in his eyes that she couldn't lie to him. Against her will, she slumped lightly against him. Sam simply moved closer without saying anything. "When I was eleven, we moved to Chicago and my parents had turned their lives around. I was still so used to the _love over money_ mindset when I moved there that I invited my first friend over to my house for the afternoon. It was a lot like this house, really—beautiful and expensive."

"When I went to school the next day, everyone wanted to be my friend. They would come over to my house and use my stuff and when they got what they wanted they would leave. I didn't see it that way though. My brothers tried to warn me, but I wouldn't listen. One day, I overheard her telling some girls from school that I was 'ugly and stupid, but being rich and naïve more than made up for it'."

She was sure that she looked heartbroken. She could clearly remember the devastation she'd felt. That moment had killed any confidence she'd had in herself. It was the most difficult thing on earth to drag herself out of that hole and some days—she still struggled.

"I stopped talking to her and everyone else. No one was invited to my house and I spent my time alone. It was better to be lonely, than it was to be used and discarded. My parents wanted to help me start over so we all packed up and moved to Lima three years ago," she admitted. "Since then, I've had this fear of rejection that I just can't get rid of. I've hidden it well, but it's always terrified me thinking that there was a chance that people from Glee would do the same thing."

"I don't _need_ friends—I'm okay with being alone. That was what I finally learned, and I also learned how to love myself and others for who they are—not what they have."

Mercedes looked at Sam, who was watching her with sorrow, concern, and respect in his eyes. He leaned close and wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace, letting go of her hand in the process. Mercedes leaned into his body, resting her head on his shoulder as he kissed the back of her head softly.

"You're an amazing woman, Mercedes Jones," he whispered, "And I've never admired anyone more. You're brave and patient and loving. But, I want you to know, that you don't have to be alone anymore. The kids in Glee club_ love_ you. They know exactly who Mercedes Jones is, and even though they don't know what you just told me—you are the end product of all that pain. The results are _always_ more important than the test. And I'll tell you right now, you will never be alone again—not with me sitting right next to you."

The gentle nature of his actions and the confidence in his tone shattered Mercedes. Her tears fell down her cheeks and caught in the cotton of his t-shirt. Sam just held her close and Mercedes was grateful to have made such a good friend.

She had never told anyone that story. _Anyone_. Not even her parents knew exactly what had gone down, but they knew the basics. The feeling of being right where she belonged was new to Mercedes, and she found that she liked it; quite a bit more than she ever thought possible.

* * *

><p><strong>April 23, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**1:13PM**

"Cede," Sam began nervously, "I know this is going to sound insensitive, but—if you saw what alcohol had done to your father's family and what it did to your dad—"

"You're going to ask me why I drank during alcohol awareness week, aren't you?" She finished for him, still wrapped in his embrace.

Sam felt bad, but the question had been bothering him since they'd talked about her father almost fifteen minutes ago. They hadn't moved from the bean bag chairs—they just sat close to each other and reveled in the comfortable silence.

"Yeah," he replied and he heard Mercedes sigh as she pulled away from him.

"I got drunk because I wanted to," she told him, "I've always known that I don't need alcohol to have fun, but sometimes it's perfectly fine to let loose. I've never turned to alcohol to solve my problems—I learned that it did nothing but cause more issues very early in life."

Relieved, Sam let a grin cross his face. He knew that Mercedes was a smart woman, but even intelligent people made mistakes. And he was kind of afraid that her getting drunk meant that she had been depressed or something. Mercedes gave him a look of fond exasperation as she wiped her face clean of tear tracks.

"Thank you for worrying Sam, but my father has taught me a lot about drinking and what it can do to a person. Every year, he has a talk with all of my brothers and I—even the little kids hear his lecturing about alcohol and safety. In fact," Sam watched in interest as Mercedes grabbed the silver chain link necklace that she wore every day. She tugged it out of the top of her white t-shirt and it revealed the letter M encrusted with diamonds and a silver key sat behind it.

"All of my older brothers have a copy of this key, and my younger siblings will get one on their fourteenth birthdays." She handed it to Sam to look over and curious, he leaned forward and held it lightly in his hand. It didn't look like anything special.

"What is it?" he questioned and Mercedes gave him a mischievous grin.

"The key to the downstairs liquor cabinet," she replied. Sam snapped his head up to look at her so fast that he almost got a crick in his neck. He knew his eyes were bugging out of his head. Why the hell would her father give her instant access to something like that?

"Why?" Sam knew his voice was incredulous. He couldn't even comprehend what David Jones had been thinking.

"Because he knew that outlawing something is just asking for a rebellion," she told him with a smile. "He's always told us that alcohol itself isn't bad—it's the choices we make while drinking it and why we decide to indulge that matters."

"Isn't it dangerous though? To have such freedom in choosing to drink?"

"You could say that," Mercedes agreed, "but none of us have ever used this key to unlock that cabinet."

Sam stared. "Really?"

Mercedes laughed at his surprise. "I don't know why my brothers haven't, but I know that I respect my parents far too much to ever open that cabinet without talking to them first. And yes, he's aware that giving alcohol to minors is illegal—he also knows that he'd rather have me be somewhere safe than out by myself where I could get hurt."

"Lots of parents wouldn't agree," Sam said.

"I know," Mercedes replied with a laugh. "But no one outside of my family knows about this key—well, except you now. And I'm asking that you keep this to yourself."

"You know I will," Sam responded and he nudged her shoulder. Mercedes' family was definitely different than he'd been expecting. Far more liberal than he'd imagined, but just as loving as he'd thought they would be. "But can you promise me that you will stop hiding your family from the Glee club?"

Mercedes let out a disgruntled groan. "Sam."

"Nope!" he protested immediately, "I am not letting you get away with this one. They're your friends! And I don't care if you don't invite them over until after Nationals, I just want you to let them in. Being afraid of rejection does nothing for you, and you _deserve_ to be happy."

Sam stared her down and Mercedes gave in.

"_Fine_, Blondie," she spoke, "I'll invite them over sometime _after_ Nationals."

Sam couldn't help the excited grin that appeared on his face. He was proud of her for accepting his challenge and he would be even prouder when she actually did it. Mercedes caught the goofy look of pride on his face and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Boy,_ please_." She said and Sam laughed. They got quiet for a moment, and Sam felt compelled to say something so Mercedes wouldn't feel so open and vulnerable.

"I slept with Santana," he admitted—his face bright red. Mercedes' eyeballs got huge and her jaw dropped before she started laughing.

"Almost every attractive guy at McKinley has slept with Santana." Mercedes told him. "So, I can't say I'm surprised." It was comforting to know that Mercedes thought he was attractive, but she had completely missed his point.

Sam wanted to go crawl under a rock. "But I slept with her, and I think she's a lesbian now."

Mercedes kind of stared at Sam, her lips twitching. "Sam, are you trying to tell me that you think _you_ turned Santana into a _lesbian_?" If it was possible, Sam felt his face heat up even more. The embarrassment knew no bounds. He nodded sheepishly.

"_Sam!"_

"It makes sense!" he exclaimed, "We had sex and then she's suddenly into Brittany? I must've been horrendous."

"Oh, Sam," Mercedes replied, her voice amused, "You did_ not _turn Santana lesbian. It doesn't work that way." Sam stared his hands—his face still beet red. "From what I could tell—Santana has been attracted to Brittany since Glee club started last year. We never said anything because Santana has the tendency to be incredibly bitchy. None of us wanted to deal with _that _drama."

Sam looked at her when she placed a hand on his shoulder. He could tell she was fighting back a smile. "I'm sure that your—uh—_bedside manner _is quite pleasing." Her amusement won out as Sam blushed furiously. She was laughing so hard that she rolled off the bean bag chair. Sam started laughing too.

He had to hand it to her. The girl knew how to make him laugh. Their giggles were interrupted by the sound of the door leading into the basement opening. They both looked up as Mercedes' mom called down the stairs. "Mercy? Sam? Are you down here?"

"Yes, momma," Mercedes replied.

"It's time for lunch. Can you both come upstairs?"

"Okay!" Mercedes returned. "Be there in a second."

"Sure, Mrs. Jones," Sam called back as well.

The sound of the door closing again made them smile as Sam helped Mercedes up off the floor. He offered her his arm which she took with a smirk. "Is your mom as good a cook as you are?" He teased and Mercedes smiled.

"Who do you think taught me?" she questioned and Sam's eyes lit up. A woman that could cook _better _than Mercedes? He was _still_ daydreaming about the breakfast she'd made his family last weekend.

Sam sped up; practically dragging her up the stairs in his hurry to get to the Promised Land that was Mercedes' kitchen. Mercedes kept up with him, but she was laughing the whole way.

* * *

><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts so far! :D Until next time!<strong>


	10. Just The Way You Are

**DISCLAIMER: On first chapter.**

**I received a message letting me know that I've been using "hazel" instead of "brown" for Mercedes' eye color. I want to apologize for that! I'm so used to describing my own eyes as hazel that I let it slip into my writing. I didn't even pay attention to it while I was editing, because I'm so used to it. LOL. I apologize if I offended anyone! It wasn't my intention. My whole family had hazel eyes and I was used to using that to describe things. Sorry about that! Most of the chapters, Mercedes does have brown eyes. I'm fixing it now though. :D**

* * *

><p><strong>April 23, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**2:37PM**

"_Cowabunga!"_

Mercedes couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face when she heard Sam yell enthusiastically. She looked up just in time to see him take a running leap and land in the extra-large kidney bean shaped pool with a huge splash.

She had to hand it to him. His water displacement was incredible for being such a small guy. She figured it had something to do with his muscle making him weigh more than he looked. It could also be from the three plates he'd eaten of her mom's special made Mac'n'cheese that had been served for lunch. Sam had complimented her mother's cooking to high heaven and completely won her over. Her mom had been glowing by the end of the meal and Sam had obviously charmed another woman in the Jones family.

Annabelle, the cheap skate, had been won over the moment she saw him standing outside their front door. It didn't help that he called her sweetheart every time he spoke to her. She had been glued to his side since the beginning of the meal—and she finally got distracted when her mom had gone to help her get dressed for swimming.

It was funny because Sam didn't even realize that he'd won them over. He was so genuinely clueless about how adorable he was that it proved to be charming.

Sam's head surfaced from the water and he beamed at her.

His blond hair was plastered to his head, but his smile was dorky and magnificent. He looked so happy. Sam swam to the side of the pool and lifted himself out of the water. Mercedes had to consciously stop herself from ogling him, but damn, Sam Evans looked hot as hell in water.

And she didn't even think he truly realized how freakin' gorgeous he was. His hair and body dripping with pool water—she could see the droplets glistening in the sunlight as they ran along his pale skin. The dark green board shorts he was wearing highlighted the V of his lower abdominals and they molded to the curve of his bottom.

_Sweet baby Jesus, she was going to die._ If her mother heard her lustful thoughts, she would probably lock her away and toss the key.

Mercedes would never admit it, but Sam was a work of art. He was toned and sculpted and more _beautiful_ than anything she'd ever seen before. She was so happy that she was wearing her huge beach sunglasses. Otherwise Sam would've been able to see that her eyeballs were practically falling out of her head. She'd thought he was cute before, but dang, white boy was_ sexy_.

"Cede!" Sam called as he walked over to where she was sitting on a pool chair underneath a huge umbrella. He stopped when he was standing beside her. Mercedes calmed herself and removed any thoughts of him being the most handsome thing she had ever seen from her head.

"Are you done sitting in the sun? The water is so nice!"

"I don't know Sam, the sun is warm—it feels great." She replied and Sam ran a hand through his hair.

"Come on, Mercedes," he said with an over exaggerated pout. Mercedes laughed. "It's not like you need a tan—you have a natural one."

Mercedes could barely stop snorting after that. It was one of the most hilarious things she had ever heard him say. Sam was laughing too as he sat down on the ground beside her chair.

"Boy, this is _Ohio_. I couldn't get a tan anyway," she teased when she finally got control of her amusement. Sam grinned at her. She was suddenly conscious of what she was wearing.

Mercedes had on a navy 1950s' style bathing suit. It was a halter with a sweetheart neckline that was wrapped around her waist and seamed on the side with a line of rhinestones. The bottom faded into shorts at the bottom.

Her sunglasses were bright red and her hair was still in the same style as it was this morning. She knew she looked good, but seeing Sam look handsome without trying made her a bit self-conscious. After all, he was used to being around girls like Santana and Quinn. It wasn't hard to see why they wanted to be with him.

What she didn't know was that Sam thought she looked incredibly elegant and beautiful. She wasn't slutty or showing off more than she needed to. She looked like one of the coke bottle ads from the 50s—curvaceous and stunning.

"Please go swimming with—"Sam's question was interrupted as a small body crashed directly into his back.

"Sammy!" Stacey cried and Mercedes watch the boy laugh and reach behind him to swing his sister into his lap.

"What's up Sunshine?" he asked with a grin as soon as the small girl had dropped onto his leg. Stacey's wide smile made Mercedes want to smile.

He was so good with his siblings. She watched the two talk and tease each other, before Stacey stood up and pulled Sam up with her—at least it seemed that he let her think that she'd pulled him up. It didn't take much pouting for Stacey to talk Sam into jumping into the pool with her.

Mercedes couldn't help but laugh as the two ran to the pool and jumped in holding hands. Sam came up first and pulled Stacey above the water to hold her in his arms. Stacey was giggling as Sam started tickling the small girl.

Mercedes was taken aback when three blurs ran past her chair and leapt into the pool with loud yells. It didn't take long for Mercedes to realize that it was Trey, Annabelle and Stevie. And the boys were now wrestling Sam in the pool.

Watching the kids frolic and play helped Mercedes toss her insecurities out of the window. She took off her sunglasses before she stood up and walked towards the pool. Her pool did look welcoming and Sam's encouraging smile from the center of the pool convinced her that there was fun to be had and nothing at all to worry about.

"_Cowabunga!"_ she screamed before she canon-balled into the water. When she resurfaced, there were cheers and laughter; the loudest coming from Sam before he was tackled by Stevie, Trey and Stacey.

Mercedes joined in on the fun not long after.

* * *

><p><strong>April 23, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**5:11PM**

"_That_ is one intense afro," Mercedes heard Sam say and she immediately reached over and smacked him on the arm. Sam laughed as he dodged her second slap. The two of them had spent two hours in the pool with the kids. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had that much fun.

Most of the time she was at a pool, Mercedes spent all her time comparing herself to the stick thin girls in bikinis and watching her brothers run around without a care in the world. They were what most girls called 'smokin' hot'—all four of them were muscular and handsome. So, pool time wasn't exactly her thing. But swimming with Sam was totally different. She hadn't once thought about how she looked while in the pool with him.

He had made her laugh and they had played games in the water. They tossed the kids back and forth—which they of course loved, but now that they were out of the water—Mercedes hair was curling intensely. And her self-consciousness came back with a vengeance.

"Shut it, Blondie," she told him before speeding towards the house where the kids had disappeared almost twenty minutes ago. Sam reached out and grabbed her arm, before she could get too far. Mercedes cursed him for having long arms.

"Cede, stop," he said and Mercedes stopped trying to pull away. Sam didn't let go of her as he walked in front of her. "What's the matter?" he asked.

She couldn't meet his eyes. Mercedes felt naked standing there in her wet bathing suit. And having a direct line of vision to his abs and chest didn't help her confidence. "Nothing, Sam," she replied, "Can I just go inside and shower now?"

"Of course you can," he answered and Mercedes almost sighed in relief. Until he said, "After you tell me what happened in the last two minutes that made you completely shut me out."

For a second, Mercedes was angry. How many confessions was this guy going to force out of her in one day? She didn't want to imagine what all he would learn by the time this weekend was over. And then she realized that Sam was just trying to be her friend. It was a _good_ thing that he had noticed her sudden skittishness.

Glancing into his green eyes that were once again clouded with concern for her, Mercedes acquiesced. Feeling ashamed, Mercedes stared down at her feet. "I look ridiculous." She admitted shyly.

Sam took a step closer to her. "How do you look ridiculous?" he questioned. The sincere confusion in his voice had Mercedes looking up at him.

"My hair!" she told him. "It looks like I've been electrocuted. During school, I was made fun of for my afro hair do, and so I started straightening it."

"You straighten your hair every day?" Sam asked, and she could clearly hear the disbelief in his voice. "Why the hell would you do that?"

Mercedes stared at him. Sam stared back. "Are you looking at the same _hot mess _that I am?" she asked.

Sam shook his head as he released her arm. He took his hand and touched the soft curls on her head and trailed his fingers lightly over her hair.

"I see the _hot_," he began, "but I don't see the _mess_."

Mercedes was torn between laughter at his response and shock at what he'd just stated. "E-excuse me?" she stammered.

"I like it," he told her with a grin. His green eyes were sparkling as he looked at her.

"You do?" she asked in disbelief.

"I think it's beautiful," he admitted with a blush, "It's so wild and untamed and big; like a lion."

The laughter was bubbling inside Mercedes' chest. He was such a _dork_.

"If I was any other girl, I would be insulted that you just compared my hair to a lion," Mercedes said with an exasperated grin, "but I'm going to assume that lions are probably your favorite animal, so that was actually meant to be a compliment."

Sam's red cheeks and sheepish grin told Mercedes that she was right. She couldn't help but laugh at him. "I really do like it though," he said, "You should wear your hair like this more often."

Mercedes gave him a smile. "Are you _serious_?" she asked and Sam nodded.

"I like you just the way you are. You don't have to change who you are to be around me," he replied. "And your hair _counts_." She was sure she would have a cheek cramp if this boy didn't stop making her smile so much. At least her face was getting a workout.

"Boy, you are too nice, you know that?" she asked in amusement as she moved around him to walk inside.

Sam shrugged. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them as they made their way back into Mercedes' house.

When they were about to step inside, a mischievous Sam asked, "Can I call you Nala?"

She stopped and looked at him. "Why not Mufasa or Simba?" she asked and Sam looked at her like she'd lost her marbles.

"You're a _girl_." He replied, "And even though you're awesome as all get out and you could rule the jungle with an iron fist—you don't have junk in the right trunk—if you know what I mean."

Mercedes threw her head back and laughed.

* * *

><p><strong>April 23, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**6:04PM**

"Daddy, that's cheating!" Mercedes protested as her father grinned at her from behind his cards.

"How am I cheating, baby girl?" he asked, "I won that_ fair_ _and square."_ Mercedes gave her father a sarcastic quirk of the lips at his answer.

As soon as Mercedes and Sam had showered and redressed in the clothes they'd had on earlier—Mercedes straightened her hair again, but Sam wouldn't stop calling her Nala—the two of them and the parents had decided to play a game of Bullshit.

"There's nothing _fair and square_ about this game, daddy. That move you just made was more sneaky and hexagonal," she told him and both Sam and her dad laughed at the pout on her face. The only reason she was pouting was because she was losing, and they knew it. You were supposed to cheat your way through the game, and the best cheater won. It was a game full of irony.

"You should be proud, David," her mother teased, "We raised a little girl incapable of lying." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. What he didn't notice was that her mother had totally peeked at the cards in his hand. Mercedes had to fight back a laugh.

But when the next round came to him and he laid down two jacks—her mother called, "Bullshit." And of course, she was right. He had to pick up the pile of cards in the middle.

He was grumbling as he gathered his new hand. "How'd you know that?" he asked, "I have the world's best poker face," he told them all. "I was in the _military_, damn it."

That got chuckles from Sam and Jeff.

"I know you were, honey," Delia admitted with a sly grin, "but that doesn't help when I see all your cards."

Her dad's brow wrinkled in confusion before he slapped a hand to his cheek—finally realizing what his wife had done. "You little sneak," he accused, "You looked at my cards when you kissed me!"

Everyone at the table burst out laughing until they heard a door slam and then, "_Mercury!"_

When Mercedes heard her oldest brother's voice shout her name, she took off running—not even paying attention to the fact that Sam was staring after her in shock and that she'd dropped her cards all over the table. She ran out of the peach parlor and into the hallway.

"Jason!" she yelled back as she skidded around the corner and into the foyer where her four brothers were standing. Jason, the huge nerd, had a gigantic smile on his face and he held his arms open for her when he spotted her racing towards him.

She crashed into her brother's chest and hugged him tightly. Even though he went to Ohio State University, he was still a four hour drive away from her and he lived on campus—so she didn't get to see him as much as she'd like to.

She was passed from brother to brother like a hot potato over the next few minutes, but she was beaming by the time they let her go. "It's good to see you, Mercy," Kyler told her with a grin. Her brothers all called her that except Jason, who called her Mercury.

He called her Mercury because he'd once told her that she was beautiful, but deadly—especially when she was pissed off about something. Despite her best attempts, she couldn't get him to stop calling her that and not that she would ever admit it—but the nickname had grown on her.

She was still grinning and chattering loudly with her brothers when her parents and Sam and Jeff came into the room.

* * *

><p>In short succession, introductions had been made and the four boys had smothered their mother in hugs and kisses. Sam just kind of stood off to the side, staring. The family resemblance wasn't overt, but they shared the same nose and smile.<p>

He eyed the twins first. Kyler and Joshua were tall—but only a few inches taller than Sam's six-foot one. They both had a mocha complexion with their mother's bluish gray eyes. Kyler had a mop of curls on his head, but Josh had his hair cut close to his head—the only sign of his curls were the slight waves at the top of his head. Both were lithe but muscular.

Derek was a little bit shorter than the twins, but he was the biggest. He had muscles everywhere and a very broad chest, but he had a kind smile and dimples to match. His eyes were brown.

Jason was the tallest of them all—and he had a muscular build that wasn't lithe but he wasn't huge either. He had a shape kind of like Sam's with a big smile, dimples and a head full of short dark ringlets and a mocha complexion. The thing that made Jason so different from his brothers was his eyes. They were two different colors. His right one was bluish gray and his left was hazel.

Bi-colored eyes were uncommon, but it happened and Jason Jones was a living example. Sam snapped out of his observations when Mercedes walked over to him and grabbed his wrist to drag him over. He didn't miss the sudden narrow eyes he was receiving and Mercedes apparently saw them too.

She rolled her eyes. "Guys, this is my _friend_, Sam Evans," she said, "He's the one that I've been telling you about."

Sam gave her a dubious look. She talked about him? To her brothers? He'd figured her parents, but he hadn't even thought about being a topic of conversation with her brothers. Though he had told his dad a lot about her, he hadn't thought she would do the same with her family.

"Don't look at me like that," she told him, "I didn't want to talk to people in Glee about you because that would just start a bunch of drama—so I talked to my family."

"Uh-huh," Sam teased her. "That's exactly why you talked to your family about me."

"It is!" Mercedes protested.

Sam just smirked at her. She slapped him on the arm, before looking back at her brothers. "He's cool when he's not being obnoxious."

"Cede," he whined in mock offense, "The _ego_." She grinned at him.

"It needs to be taken down a peg or two," she told him, "I don't like people with big heads."

"I don't have a big head," Sam huffed at her and she laughed. Sam smiled at her, before he stopped playing around and turned to face her brothers. He stretched out a hand to Jason, who shook it firmly.

"It's nice to meet you," Sam said, "I would say that I've heard a lot about you, but I only learned that you existed about seven hours ago."

Jason laughed at Sam's wry tone. Mercedes blushed and looked away from Sam. "Well, I've heard lots of things about you."

Sam blinked. "Good, I hope?"

"That's to be decided," Kyler threw in from the side as he walked up to Jason and tossed an arm over his shoulders. "I'm still trying to figure out what an Avatard is?"

Sam's eyes almost popped out of his head and he felt Mercedes inch away from him.

"Mercedes!" he said, "You told your brother that I was an Avatard?"

"Well you are one," she replied, holding her hands up in mock terror.

"I cannot believe you," he complained, "I haven't even gotten to that confession yet, but you already knew!"

"Sam," Mercedes said—he could hear the disbelief in her voice, "The first day in Glee club you spoke in Na'vi and you quoted a whole scene from the movie to Quinn in an attempt to impress her. What else was I supposed to think?"

Sam wanted to refute that, but he was known to pull out his fluency in Na'vi every once in awhile. So, he did the only thing he could do at the moment—he blushed and then he pouted. Mercedes burst into giggles at the look on his face and he truly couldn't stay disgruntled with her after seeing her laugh like that.

Jason, Kyler, Joshua, and Derek looked intensely amused when Sam turned back to face them. He floundered for words. He was sure that his face was bright red by this point.

"Did she at least tell you about my love of sports?" he asked—semi-desperately. He really didn't want Mercedes' brothers to think he was a giant nerd obsessed with blue people that lived in trees.

"Srane," Jason answered and Sam froze. Unbelievable! He stared at Mercedes' older brother in absolute wonder. _Srane_ was yes in Na'vi. _Mercedes' brother spoke Na'vi. _"I'm a bit of an Avatard as well." Jason confessed.

The smile on Sam's face was almost blinding. It made the brothers laugh at his reaction. And from there conversation between the five boys took off at high speeds. Sam talked about his love of football and basketball with Jason, who was the quarterback for the Ohio State football team. Joshua admitted to being a huge Trekkie. Derek, Kyler and Sam bonded over talk of _Call of Duty_ and _Halo 3_.

Dinner that night was loud and proud. Mercedes debated with Sam, Kyler, and Josh over who was the best receiver in the NFL. It got pretty heated. Jason was talking with Jeff and his father about school. Derek was chatting with Mercedes' mom about the classes he would take the next semester. The kids were off in their own little world.

Sam once again got to eat some delicious food. This time served by Mercedes' father, who had started grilling the food just after Mercedes' brothers arrived. Sam was shown how to grill when all of the guys went outside to help. Jeff and David spent a lot of time comparing their grilling techniques, but he was full of nothing but compliments as soon as they'd started eating.

Jokes were cracked and stories were shared around the table. Money didn't matter and camaraderie was prevalent. It was one of the best dinners Sam had ever had. He felt at home, which he found odd, because he hadn't even been there a full day yet.

The Jones family was a group of amazing people, he decided.

* * *

><p><strong>April 23, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**8:12PM**

"_Man_, we're getting our asses handed to us," Kyler complained as he moved his thumbs furiously over the buttons on his wireless controller.

"You can say that again!" Josh stated with a groan, before his character was shot again. "_Damn,_ white boy's got skills."

Kyler, Joshua, Sam, and Jason were all sitting on the connector couch in front of the huge television—playing a round of _Call of Duty: Modern Warfare Two_ on the PS3. Kyler and Josh were on one team while Sam and Jason played against them.

As far as Mercedes could tell from her seat on the floor next to Derek, Sam and Jason were kicking some serious ass. It was all she could do to keep the proud smirk off her face. Her brothers had doubted Sam's video game skills, but she'd seen him at Finn's party and she knew he had some talent. It was refreshing to see someone else kick their butts at their own games.

The younger kids were upstairs with the parents. Mercedes' mom had gone to give Jasper a bath and put him to bed, so her dad and Jeff were setting the kids up with movies.

The older kids had taken over the basement as soon as dinner had ended. A challenge of _Call of Duty _had been tossed on the table and they couldn't have finished their food faster.

Derek was laughing his butt off as he watched his brothers getting smoked in high definition.

"_Come on_, Ky," Josh yelled, "You're going to let a couple of Avatards beat us in a _man's_ game."

And so the trash talking began.

"I am _going,"_ Kyler spat back. "You're the one that keeps getting shot. Why don't you pay attention to your character's big head and try to keep it on his shoulders?"

After ten minutes of intense playing, Sam's character cornered Kyler's in a room.

"_You don't have the balls_." Kyler insisted and Sam took great pleasure in aiming his gun towards the crotch of Kyler's character. He shot him.

"I guess I'll have to borrow yours," Sam said slyly, "Not like you were using them anyway."

Howls of laughter went up around the room. Derek was guffawing so hard that he looked like he was about to start crying.

Kyler clapped Sam on the arm—wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "That was _hilarious_."

"He just turned your CGI balls into mashed potatoes!" Jason said and the laughter erupted again.

"That was the most epic takedown I've _ever_ seen," Josh stated before he fist bumped a pleased looking Sam.

The congratulations continued until Mercedes got tired of their chatter. She grabbed the wireless controller from Josh and said, "One on one—me and Sam. Winner gets to pick the next game."

That was certainly something Sam hadn't been expecting. Mercedes wanted to play a video game? "You want to play me?" he asked dubiously. He instantly knew something was up when all four of her brothers broke into laughter and gathered around them as Mercedes sat next to Sam on the couch.

"Yeah, Blondie," she told him with a grin, "You scared?" she asked.

Sam gave her a sarcastic look. "No," he said, "Let's do this."

They rebooted the game and started it over as a two player match. At first it was ridiculously easy to get ahead, and then Mercedes came out of the closet with a giant can of whoop ass. Sam knew his expression must've been one of pure shock because he heard cheers and laughter suddenly erupt from the boys around them.

He was desperately trying to keep up with her, but by the end of the game—she had truly smoked him. Mercedes played the game like a military genius—her strategies were awesome and she had excellent aim. When the game ended, Sam couldn't stop staring.

_How amazing was this girl?_

She could play video games—_violent_ video games like a freakin' champion. And he knew that she picked the next game just to show off, but he wouldn't let her win that easily.

* * *

><p>When Derek popped in the <em>Just Dance 2<em> disc for Wii, Mercedes was smirking. She had thoroughly surprised Sam when she spanked him at _Call of Duty_. But she had to hand it to him—he didn't back down from a challenge.

With a teasing smile, she handed the Wii remote to Sam, who took it with a wink. "You can choose the song," she said and he smiled.

He scrolled through the options, but of course, he chose Katy Perry's "Firework". They got into position and when the music started, Sam danced his heart out. Her brothers couldn't stop laughing.

Mercedes couldn't stop thinking about how adorable Sam looked as he tried to follow the dance moves. He was so stiff and awkward and off tempo that it was hilarious. But he was having a blast—he didn't even care about the humiliation. He was laughing just as hard as the rest of them.

By the end of the song, Sam had beaten her by two points. He did his own version of a happy dance, which was of course, the robot.

"I'm_ so_ sorry," he apologized mockingly and Mercedes laughed. Sam laughed too and pulled her into a hug. When they separated, her brothers congratulated him.

"I can't believe you beat her!"

"She _powns _this freakin' game."

"Sam, you are now my idol, I bow down to a man who can't dance but can _beat _the dance master!"

The fun continued on for a long time. They played a couple more rounds of _Just Dance 2_, before they moved onto _Rockband_, where Sam owned the drums on expert level and Jason spanked everybody on guitar. Mercedes won the vocals though.

Around one in the morning, everyone except for Mercedes and Sam had cleared out to go to bed. Sam helped her clean everything up, but went upstairs to shower and get ready for bed when she started reorganizing the game consoles. It only took her about ten minutes to finish tidying everything up.

When Sam walked back downstairs to say goodnight to Mercedes, he didn't see her anywhere in the basement. Slightly sad that he hadn't gotten to say goodnight to her, Sam turned around to head up to his room. He was stopped by the faint sound of a piano playing. Curious, he followed the sounds until he reached a small hallway that he hadn't seen before.

It was partially hidden by the wall, because it curved behind the television. He continued following the music down the short corridor, and he came to a door that was partially ajar.

"Mercedes?" he called through the door while slowly pushing it open. The music instantly stopped, and Sam poked his head inside. It was a huge room with wooden floors and instruments lining the wall.

The black baby grand piano in the center of the room caught his attention, and he finally spotted Mercedes sitting behind it—smiling at him.

"Sam?" she asked. "I thought you had gone up to bed."

"I wanted to say goodnight, but then I heard you in here and I had to find out who was playing." He replied.

"Oh," Mercedes stated with a smile. "Well come in."

"I didn't know you played," Sam admitted as he walked into the room. When he reached her, he sat down on the polished bench right next to her.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Blondie," she told him and he chuckled. It was funny how true that statement was. He didn't know that much about her, but he was learning—today had certainly been a good start.

Sam looked around the room and finally noticed the shelves upon shelves stocked full of award ribbons, certificates and trophies. "What are all those?" he asked and Mercedes followed his gaze to the wall. She smiled.

"My awards," she replied and Sam had to take a second to comprehend that response. He turned his eyes back to her and she let out a breath. "Just because Rachel shoves her talent in everyone's face doesn't mean that I have to."

Sam couldn't keep the awe of his features. "All of these are for singing?"

"No," she told him. "A good number of them are from singing competitions and talent shows, but I have awards from piano concertos, violin playing and competitive orchestra."

"You play the piano and violin?" Sam questioned in surprise. He'd known she was talented, but he never thought about this.

"I play the cello and the drums also." She responded.

"No guitar?" Sam asked and she shook her head.

"I never had the time to learn. I did competitive music in Chicago, and I was just about to start guitar lessons when we moved to Lima. My dad bought the one I have for me, just before we came to Ohio, but I never tried to learn after that. I lost my passion for it."

Sam was honestly taken aback. He was finding out so much in such a short time that it hurt his brain. Mercedes—diva extraordinaire was amazingly talented. For a second, Sam wanted to know the name of the girl who had treated her so badly—so he could hunt her down and slap her, but he calmed himself down. Seeing the joy slowly draining from her eyes at the reminder of the past, Sam searched his brain for a change in topic.

"I have a song for Mr. Schue's uncommon love song assignment," Sam said suddenly and Mercedes looked up at him. "It's called 'Trouble' by Nevershoutnever." She gave him an interested expression as he stood up and grabbed the guitar off the stand that was next to the wall.

Sam sat down on the piano bench—his back to the keys as he strummed the chords. It made an awful discordant sound that made Sam wince. Mercedes laughed at the appalled expression on his face. He tuned the guitar as quickly as he could and it still wasn't too his liking ten minutes later, but he figured he should get on with playing the song.

"_**I'm in trouble**_," Sam sung, before he started playing the adjusted melody on the guitar, "_**I'm an addict.**__**I'm addicted to this girl**__**. **__**She's got my heart tied in a knot**__** a**__**nd my stomach in a whirl**_."

Sam caught the smile that was growing on Mercedes' face and he couldn't resist making faces at her. She shook her head at him in amusement. "_**But even worse**__**, **__**I can't stop calling her.**__**She's all I want and more.**__**I mean damn**_," Sam paused long enough to shimmy his shoulders for a second, before continuing, "_**What's not to adore?"**_

"_**I've been playing too much guitar.**__**I've been listening to jazz.**__**I called so many times**__**; **__**I swear she's going mad.**__**And that cellular will be the death of us**__**; **__**I swear, I swear**_," Sam voiced, before he stood from the piano bench and jammed on the borrowed instrument.

"_**And oh**__**; **__**O-oh, o-oh, o-ooh**__**, **__**Ooooh**_," Sam sang, and then whistled for a moment. "_**I'm running my mouth**__**. **__**Just like I got her but I surely don't.**_"

"_**Because she's so**_", Sam winked at Mercedes as he danced around her and she laughed at him. "_**O-oh, o-oh, o-ooh**__**; **__**rock 'n roll**__** a**__**nd out of my league.**__**Is she out of my league?**__**Let's hope not**_!"

Sam did the dorkiest guitar dance move possible as he continued singing, "_**I'm in trouble.**__**I'm so cliché.**__**See that word just wears me out; **__**m**__**akes me feel like just another boy to laugh and joke about.**_" Mercedes' brown eyes were twinkling and Sam felt like he couldn't get enough. He danced even more with his guitar. Her amusement was infectious and he loved that he could make her laugh.

"_**But even worse**__**; **__**I can't stop calling her.**__**I love to hear that voice**__**. **__**And honestly**__**, **__**I'm left with no choice. I've been playing too much guitar**__**. **__**I, I've been listening to jazz**__**. **__**I called so many times;**__**I swear she's going mad**__**. **__**And that cellular will be the death of us**__**; **__**I swear, I swear.**_" Sam sang loudly and Mercedes started clapping along. He smiled at her.

"_**And oh**_," he voiced, "_**O-oh, o-oh, o-ooh**__**; **__**Ooooh**__**. **__**I'm running my mouth**__** j**__**ust like I got her**__**, b**__**ut I surely don't.**__**Because she's so**_," Sam sat down next to Mercedes again and bobbed his head so hard that his blonde hair was bouncing, "_**O-oh, o-oh, o-ooh**__**—**__**Rock 'n roll**__** a**__**nd out of my league.**__**Is she out of my league?**__**Let's hope not.**__**And oh, **__**o**__**-oh, o-oh, o-ooh,**__**oooh, oooh**_."

When the song ended, Mercedes applauded him. "Mr. Schue is going to love it!" she told him honestly, and Sam grinned.

He was happy to see her smiling again. Mercedes glanced at the clock on the wall and said, "Wow, it's really late. We should probably get to bed." Sam glanced at the time and was just as surprised to see that it was nearing two in the morning.

"You brought your dressy clothes, right?" she asked as she stood up from the piano bench. Sam placed the guitar back on its stand before answering her. He remembered when she had told him Friday morning to pack a nice shirt and pants. She said that she was going to take them to her church on Sunday morning. It would be interesting.

Sam nodded at her. She smiled in reply. They walked upstairs in a comfortable silence; both feeling the exhaustion from the long and exciting day hitting them finally. Mercedes walked Sam to the door to his guest room. He was still surprised that he'd gotten a whole room to himself for the weekend. He barely remembered what privacy was.

She stopped and looked up at him with a tired smile on her face. And even though she looked exhausted and she wasn't wearing a speck of makeup—Sam thought she looked very pretty.

"Night Blondie," she said with a soft smile. Sam held his arms out to her. He wouldn't admit it, but he liked cuddling. No one could ever find that out though—he would be made fun of to high heaven.

Mercedes stepped into his embrace and hugged him tightly. He could smell her—she smelt like lilies and cinnamon—an odd mixture, but one that suited Mercedes; soft and sweet with a hint of spice.

"Night Nala," Sam told her and she laughed into his shoulder, before they let each other go. She gave him one last smile, before turning around and heading back towards the stairs. He watched until she had disappeared up the staircase, and then he walked inside of his room to head to bed.

Today had been beyond amazing, and he couldn't wait to see what tomorrow would bring.


	11. Be Strong For Me

**DISCLAIMER: On first chapter.**

****I received a message letting me know that I've been using "hazel" instead of "brown" for Mercedes' eye color. I want to apologize for that! I'm so used to describing my own eyes as hazel that I let it slip into my writing. I didn't even pay attention to it while I was editing, because I'm so used to it. LOL. I apologize if I offended anyone! It wasn't my intention. My whole family had hazel eyes and I was used to using that to describe things. Sorry about that! Most of the chapters, Mercedes does have brown eyes. I'm fixing it now though. :D****

* * *

><p><strong>April 24, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**Eternal Baptist Church**

**Lima, Ohio**

**10:01AM**

Sitting in the pew felt odd to Sam. He had never been to a church service without his mother. He idly fiddled with the collar of his light gray button down. Sam was wearing a nice shirt and a pair of black pants with his worn dress-up shoes. Mercedes had taken one look at him and said that he looked like a million bucks.

Sam had wryly told her that he must be the Goodwill version. Mercedes just told him that you often find the best stuff at Goodwill. That, of course, had made him blush and smile. Mercedes however looked like a 1950s princess.

She wore a Bernie Dexter halter bell swing dress—at least that's what Mercedes had told him it was—that was red and white checkered and a pair of bright red heels were on her feet. She had done something to her hair again, because it was straight at the top and had curls at the bottom. Her bangs fell softly across her forehead. Sam thought she looked amazing.

She had also taken the time to dress Stacey—gifting the seven-year old a lilac colored dress that had purple flowers bloomed along her left side and snaked down to the bottom hem of her dress. Delia had brushed and curled Stacey's long hair. She had been grinning since they left the house.

When they'd walked into the church, Mercedes had taken it upon herself to introduce him and his family to as many members as possible. Everyone was extremely nice to them—it was refreshing to feel nothing but acceptance and open hospitality.

After sitting themselves in the third pew from the front of the church—Mercedes had taken off to the choir room with her father. He sat there for a moment wondering what he should do when he heard his father's startled voice from his other side.

"Lynnette?" he asked and Sam's head snapped up. Lynn was standing there in knee length black dress with cap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. She had on a pair of olive green heels. Her short hair was curled and she had a sparkly hair clip on the left side of her head. She was wearing her pearl earrings again. Sam thought she looked like a very respectable lady.

She gave them a big smile. "Well, hello, darlin'," she greeted as she patted his father on the shoulder, before turning to look at Sam. He felt her eyes glance over his attire and she gave him a grin.

"Don't you two look handsome," she said, "Hello Sam." Sam saw his father blink in shock and stare between the two of them.

"You remember Sam?" he asked bewildered and Sam laughed at his dad.

"Of course," Lynn replied in amusement, "He drops in to check on his guitar every once in awhile."

Sam blushed, before Lynn opened her arms to him saying, "Don't leave me hanging." Sam grinned before he stood up and stepped into the hug. They let go of each other and Lynn took his dad by surprise when she wrapped him into a hug as well.

"I didn't know you went to church here," his dad told Lynn and she smiled.

"Well, my family goes to church here." She admitted and his dad's eyebrows rose.

"Oh," he replied, "Who's your family?"

Lynn and Sam gave each other mischievous looks. "She's Mercedes' aunt, Dad." Sam said and he watched as his father's eyebrows rose in shock.

The disbelief on his face was enough to send Lynn and Sam into a fit of giggles. He gave them a patient smile when they finally calmed themselves, but Sam could see the redness of his face. His blushing problem had totally been passed down from his father. _Damn genetics._

Sam introduced Lynn to Stacey and Stevie. Stacey was immediately captivated by her hair and her dress. Stevie didn't know quite what to think, but he was won over when she responded to one of his comments about Sam's Spiderman comic books and he realized that she actually knew what she was talking about.

Lynn gracefully sat down next to Sam's dad, on his left side while Sam sat on his right with an open seat for Mercedes on Sam's right. Stacey sat on Lynn's left side and Stevie right next to Stacey. They chatted for a bit until the lights dimmed and a hushed silence fell over the entire church.

Mercedes and her father stepped into the spotlight—that rested directly in front of the Eternal Baptist Church choir and the music began.

The piano's melody was as sweet and simple as music could get. Sam watched as Mercedes lifted the microphone to her lips and sang, "_**I close my eyes and I go to sleep**__**. **__**Knowing that time's not mine to keep**__**—a**__**s the morning breaks**__** a**__**nd I start to wake; trying to make it through**__**; j**__**ust for life's own sake.**_" Her tone was warm and soothing, but Sam could hear the pain behind it. She was staring directly at him, and her brown eyes felt like laser beams.

Sam felt stripped bare—like there was no hiding anything from this woman. Every time she opened her mouth to sing, Sam just felt all of his emotions battering around on the inside. She was like Pandora's Box for his emotional control.

Sam was taken aback when Mercedes' father took the next verse. His vocalization was like his speaking voice—strong, commanding, and baritone. He could literally hear where Mercedes' talent came from. "_**I look at life now in a different way. Living each moment of each day; it's the same old sky**__**, b**__**ut it's brighter now**_."

Mercedes and David began singing together—their harmonies beyond magical. _**"**__**I look up and the stars **__**m**__**ean much more somehow."**___

__Mercedes started the next verse, "_**Help me now as I start to fall. Shelter me, I don't ask for much at all.**__**"**_ And they harmonized again, _**"**__**All I need is just one more day giving me hope to dream upon. Don't let me walk this road alone!"**_

The choir in the background joined in and more instruments adding to the music as the song began building to its crescendo. "_**It takes some rain to make a flower grow**__**. **__**It's just a simple thought I know**_," they sang together.

"_**With your love and care**_," David sang.

"_**I will have no fears**_," Mercedes voiced, her eyes falling closed as she got lost in the music. Sam had never thought there would be such power in performing such a simple action, but he could feel her compassion and love from where he was sitting. She was singing this song for both him, and herself. It was the moment when Sam realized that he had possibly found the most incredible woman in Ohio, if not the world.

"_**I believe I'll have the life that I hold so dear,**_" they sang, "_**Help me now as I start to fall.**__**Shelter me, I don't ask for much at all. All I need is just one more day**__** g**__**iving me hope to dream upon.**__**Don't let me walk this road alone.**_"

"_**Help me now as I start to fall**_," Sam was blown away by the strength of Mercedes' voice as she belted out that line. Her father proved to be just as strong.

"_**Shelter me, I don't ask for much at all**_," he voiced before the two of them picked up the intensity by singing together once more.

"_**All I need is just one more day giving me hope to dream upon. Don't let me walk this road alone!**_" The final note they harmonized on was so powerful that it brought tears to Sam's eyes. He was on his feet applauding before he'd even realized what was happening. It didn't matter though, because he was quickly joined by countless others.

That song was so amazing. He could feel something inside of him shifting, changing—_healing_. It was such a relief to know that he wasn't going to feel wounded or scarred forever—especially not with a woman like Mercedes Jones as a friend. Sam felt a hand squeeze his and he looked over to see his father, whose eyes were just as watery as Sam's.

Sam embraced his dad. It was the first time that he had even truly considered how much his dad must be hurting. Jeff clutched him tightly, before letting go and facing forward with a blush staining his cheeks. Sam didn't have time to blush. His attention was drawn to a beaming Mercedes as she made her way into the pew. He smiled back at her.

"You were _incredible_," Sam whispered as they sat down next to each other. Mercedes grinned at him in return.

"Thank you," she replied. And they both got quiet as the pastor began speaking.

* * *

><p><strong>April 24, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**1:07PM**

"You mentioned yesterday that you liked playing ball," Josh spoke causing Sam to look over at him. He had just walked out of the downstairs bathroom and was heading towards the stairs to the basement when the eighteen year old had caught up with him.

"Yeah," Sam replied, "I consider myself to be a decent player." Josh grinned.

"Well, you up for a game?" he asked, "Dinner won't be for awhile, and I think we might be playing kickball later tonight, but we have some free time on our hands."

Sam's eyebrows rose as he thought about it for a second. Mercedes was currently in the downstairs play room doing craft work with Annabelle, her mom, Stacey, Jasper, and Lynn. And his dad had gone golfing with Mercedes' father right after church. Stevie was with Trey in his room—a couple of his friends had come over to play video games.

So it wasn't as though Sam had anything else to do. He shrugged at Josh. "Sure, man," he said, "Just let me go change."

Josh smiled and clapped Sam on the shoulder. "I'm going to assume that Mercy showed you the courts, right?" he asked and Sam nodded. "Awesome—we'll meet you out there."

Sam watched as Josh loped off down the hall, before making his way up to his room to change his clothes. He put on a pair of blue athletic shorts, his running shoes and a white t-shirt before he hurried back downstairs and outside. He jogged lightly along the stone pathway—past the pool gates and the pool house. He turned left on the pathway and walked towards the basketball court where he could clearly see Mercedes' brothers milling around.

Sam made his way over to them and they quickly sorted the teams out. Jason decided to sit this round out, because he was atrocious at basketball. They agreed to play to ten baskets. So Sam and Josh were paired together against Kyler and Derek. The game started with Sam getting the tip off.

In a small amount of time, the match was going full speed. Sam was ducking and weaving and passing the ball every chance he got. He and Josh played well together. Sam scored the first basket of the game and Josh high fived him. The game got more intense. Within quick succession, Kyler had scored four baskets, but Josh had gotten three more and Sam scored another two.

Sam and Josh ended up winning the first match. "_Yeah,_ good game!" Josh cheered as he bro-hugged a laughing Sam.

They ended up playing four more rounds. Sam and Josh won the second one, but Kyler and Derek took the cake with three wins. It didn't matter though—all of the guys were impressed with Sam's skill. In fact, the most celebrated moment of the game was when Sam faked out Derek and dunked on him.

Sam felt incredibly pleased at the cheers that went up. It had been an awesome play. Tired, sweaty, and happy the four of them dropped onto the pavement. Kyler sprawled all the way out on the ground and Derek was leaning against the fence. Josh sat near Sam with his elbows on his knees. Sam wiped his face with the bottom of his t-shirt and used his hands to brush the sweaty hair out of his eyes as he sat cross-legged next to Joshua.

"Where the _hell_ did that come from?" Derek panted—still trying to catch his breath after all the running.

"I told Josh that I was a decent player," Sam replied, blushing. He was happy that his face was already flushed from the exercise.

He got four incredulous looks. "_Decent _player, my ass," Kyler muttered as he turned his head to look at Sam. "You may not have won every game, but if we hadn't been running like Satan was chasing us—you would've kicked ass and taken names."

"I haven't played so hard in years," Josh threw in, "All I've got for competition are these sorry excuses for athletes."

"Shut up," Derek tossed back, "You're just bragging because you had the white Michael Jordan on your team."

"Yeah, Josh," Kyler added, "I was watching you running down the court—looking all bowlegged."

"I did not!" Josh protested over a laughing Jason.

"You looked like Dobby trying to chase Lucius Malfoy—your ears flopping in the wind," Derek said with a smirk.

"Don't hate," Josh retorted, "'Cause I know that that's exactly what y'all are doing. I've got some dignity."

"More like some douchebaggery—you can hand it out, but you don't like it when it comes back to slap you in the face." Kyler replied.

"You can kiss my left ass cheek, Ky," Josh replied.

"Why just one of them?" Kyler asked back.

"Because anything _right_ is too good for you," Josh responded. Sam couldn't help but laugh at that one.

Derek let out a, "_Da-mn_, you just got told," before he cracked up. Jason clapped Josh on the shoulder as he joined them on the ground.

Kyler raised a fist. "Good one, twin." He praised his brother and they shared a fist-bump and a grin. Sam had to smile at the obvious affection between the four of them. They were so close and all of their teasing was good-spirited.

"So, Sam, how'd you get so good at basketball?" Derek asked and Sam shrugged. He honestly didn't think he was that good, but to each his own, right?

"I've been playing since elementary school." He admitted, "I've been on basketball teams since the sixth grade. I picked up football in seventh."

"Nice," Josh asked. There was comfortable silence between the five of them as they relaxed in the sun, before Jason spoke up.

"So what's going on between you and my sister?" Sam glanced in his direction and he wasn't surprised when the others sat up and paid attention. He had been expecting something like this since yesterday.

"We're friends," Sam told them honestly. "There's nothing going on between us other than that."

Jason looked skeptical. "Friends don't interact like the two of you do."

Sam's brow furrowed. He thought his friendship with Mercedes was normal. Thinking back, he could see that they were closer than most new friends are, but there was nothing else there—at least nothing that he could see.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"We all saw the way you were looking at her when she and my dad sang during church this morning," Kyler confessed. "It's not like you were trying very hard to hide your expression."

He blushed, but he could kind of understand where they got their suspicions from. Sam had been incredibly moved by Mercedes' and David's performance. The song had helped reassure him and soothe some emotional wounds. He hadn't thought anyone would be able to tell what he was feeling, but he'd been feeling nothing but gratitude and love for Mercedes and how good of a person she was.

"That was," Sam began, but he fumbled for words. He didn't know exactly how much Mercedes' brother knew about his situation. "How much do you know about me?" he asked instead and their faces saddened.

"We know the basic story," Josh admitted, "Mercedes was a mess after you'd told her what was going on with your mom."

"I've never seen her so pissed." Derek said with a shake of his head. Sam blinked at them.

"What did she do?" Sam asked—he hadn't even thought of how Mercedes would've reacted to his situation.

"She came home ready to bitch slap people." Jason said, "Mom had to call us and have us drive down here just to get her to stop crying and trying to hunt down your mother."

"I've always known that she was a force to be reckoned with when angry, but she was outraged _and_ disgusted." Josh added, "I'm kind of glad that she couldn't find the woman—I'm pretty sure that she would've committed murder."

Sam was shocked. He had never heard anything like that before. Mercedes did all that because she cared for him? He made her lose her cool? Sam couldn't decide if he wanted to smile or frown.

"Well," he started, "That song she and your dad sang today—it was comforting to hear. And she made me feel like I wasn't so alone—like others have been in the same place that I'm standing in and they've come out of it with happiness." Sam looked down at his hands. "I can't tell you exactly what my feelings for your sister are, because they may not be the same five minutes from now. But right now, I just have this feeling of deep gratitude for everything she's done for me."

Sam turned his head in their direction and smiled. "I just know that she's like my best friend right now, but that's all I know at the moment. I'm sorry I don't have a better answer than that."

Jason just smiled. "It was the perfect answer—because it was _honest_. That's all we wanted." He told Sam, before clapping him on the shoulder. He got grins from Mercedes' other brothers as they all stood up to head inside and shower. A conversation about the upcoming football season started up, and things quickly got rowdy.

They were all laughing by the time they got to the house.

* * *

><p><strong>April 24, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**Wagman's Supermarket**

**Lima, Ohio**

**4:22PM**

"So what are we looking for again?" Sam asked as Mercedes wheeled the basket down the seasonings aisle. He stopped for a moment as she waved a small piece of paper in his face. Sam took it from her hands and looked it over. Yeah, it figured that she would have a list of things to buy.

"When did we get this?" he questioned and Mercedes let out a laugh.

"It was the first thing she gave me after asking me to go to the store." She replied, "Maybe you would've noticed if you weren't playing with the baby."

Sam blushed at the teasing smile on her face. Jasper had crashed into Sam's leg when he'd come down after showering. Sam had lifted the baby into his arms and walked into the kitchen—tickling the kid and making funny faces to get him to giggle. That kid was ridiculously cute. He hoped his children would be as adorable as Jasper was.

Unfortunately, he had walked into a room full of women that were all beaming at him with pride and amusement—Lynn, Mercedes, and Delia just smiled at the furious blush that lit up his cheeks.

Fortunately for him though, Delia had been asking Mercedes to go out and get some stuff for dinner and he'd jumped at the chance to go with her. He had barely seen his friend all day—spending most of his time with her brothers. He felt bad, because she had been the one to invite him over.

"It's not my fault that kids love me," Sam responded as Mercedes tossed a box of bread crumbs into the cart.

"It's not a bad thing," she replied.

"I know, but I feel like a mommy-boy whenever I take care of the kids." Sam admitted, "Puck told me that if I wasn't careful, I would grow ovaries."

Sam didn't believe it, but when Puck had said it, he had felt a twinge of panicked doubt. Hearing Mercedes burst out laughing let him know that his face was giving away his thoughts and he blushed.

"Sam!" Mercedes said with a grin, "I cannot believe that you believed Puck for even a second."

"Well," he protested, "He's not the first one to make fun of me for being good with kids. He's just the first to state his thoughts so bluntly."

Mercedes gave him an amused look. "I'll tell you a secret," she whispered, before she turned to toss five bags of croutons and some ranch salad dressing into the cart. "Puck likes kids too. He just pretends to be a bad ass when he's actually softer than a Pillsbury doughboy."

Sam smiled. "Zizes has him whipped," he told her and Mercedes laughed.

"I'm well aware of that one," she replied, "Anyone who can drive Puck up the wall, and make him be generally nice to other people has him tied up in knots."

"He wouldn't shut up about her when we were hanging out at Finn's house on Friday," Sam confessed, "He's so into her that it's almost sickening."

Mercedes' eyes twinkled as they quickly gathered everything on the list. They were walking down the dessert aisle when Sam saw them. He froze in his tracks. Mercedes continued to move forward until she realized that Sam wasn't right next to her.

"Sam?" she asked in concern, but he barely heard her over his building excitement. There was rushing in his ears as he walked towards the shelf.

He raised his hand and slid it along the plastic package with reverence. "Sweet Avatar," he whispered as he picked up a pack and sniffed. The scent was heavenly. Mercedes was giving him the most confused and disturbed expression he had ever seen, but Sam couldn't bring himself to care.

"Cede," he croaked as he whirled around to face her. "Do you know what_ this_ is?"

Mercedes stared at him. "It's a pack of snicker-doodles." She said slowly.

"Cede!" Sam exclaimed in dismay, "This is not just a pack of snicker-doodles." He walked over to Mercedes—the cookies still clutched in his hands. "_These_ are the best things that have happened to the human race."

"Sam, it's a cookie!" Mercedes responded in amusement.

"They're not only cookies, Cede!" Sam protested. "These are dough baked with cinnamon and sugar and full of general awesomeness." His lecture seemed to amuse Mercedes.

"I'm guessing that these are your favorite cookies?" she asked with a smile.

"Yeah," he replied as he fiddled with the package. "My mom used to bake them for me every year for my birthday. We couldn't spare the money this year." Sam felt the bottom of his stomach drop to his knees. He hadn't thought of his mother all weekend, but he was just now realizing that he would never have her homemade snicker-doodles again. Was it a bad thing that he would miss her cookies more than he missed her at the moment?

"I'm sorry, Sam," Mercedes told him as she placed her arm through his. They pushed the cart forward. "Wait—when was your birthday?" she questioned suddenly. Sam looked away from her.

"Last Tuesday," he admitted and Mercedes stopped.

"Your birthday was on Tuesday and you didn't say anything?" she demanded and Sam blushed.

"It's not like I was going to get any gifts or anything," he replied, "I didn't want to make a big deal out of nothing."

"Sam Evans!" Mercedes reprimanded and she smacked him on the arm. "Your birthday is _not _nothing."

"It's just a birthday, Cede," he responded. "I'll have plenty more, but please don't turn this into something that it's not." He would resort to begging if he had to. The last thing he wanted was for his friends in Glee club to try and buy him presents after all they had done for him.

Mercedes looked disappointed. "Why didn't you tell me, though?" she asked and Sam looked down. He didn't really have a good reason for hiding it, but he hadn't wanted to draw more attention to himself. So he said as much.

He heard Mercedes let out a sigh. "Fine," she relented, "but I'm buying you those cookies as a birthday present."

Sam felt joy course through him and he flung his arms around her with a shout of jubilation. "Thank you, Cede!" She could do nothing but laugh at him. Sam just held his snicker-doodles in his arms.

"Why do you think those cookies are so great?" Mercedes asked curiously while they were in the checkout line.

"You mean besides the totally amazing taste?" he responded and Mercedes nodded.

"The name makes me laugh," he confessed sheepishly and Mercedes cracked up. It was such a Sam thing to say that she couldn't help herself.

* * *

><p><strong>April 24, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**6:08PM**

"Get it, Stevie!" Mercedes yelled from the sideline as the seven-year old kicked the bouncy red ball with all his might. It flew into the air over the heads of the outfielders and cheers from Stevie's team went up as the kid sprinted towards first base.

The Jones, Evans, and Lynn had decided to play a game of kickball before dinner began. Sam, Joshua, Stacey, Derek, Jason, David and Lynn were together on one team while Mercedes, Delia, Jason, Stevie, Kyler, Trey, and Annabelle were on the other. Jasper didn't technically count for either team, but he played on and off with Jeff sitting on the sidelines in between.

Stevie barely dodged the ball that was tossed at him, and he made it safely to first base. Mercedes clapped for him and high-fived her teammates as she strode up to the plate. Sam stuck his tongue out at her from the pitcher mound.

She shot him a devious grin.

"Bring it on, Blondie!" she taunted and Sam raised his eyebrow before he rolled the ball towards her.

Mercedes waited until the optimal moment, before she kicked the stuffing out of that ball. It flew straight over Sam's head and she took the time to bolt towards first base, where Stevie had just left.

Sam and Mercedes played hard—they didn't go easy on each other at all. It was a great game—filled with lots of trash talking, teasing, and laughter. Lynn and Delia took turns taking pictures of the game. Sam's team did a victory dance when they won by one. Mercedes watched him laugh and dance like an idiot, before he pulled her into a hug. His joy was infectious and he had her jumping with him soon enough.

At the end—both families took one big photo together, Sam's arm around Mercedes' shoulder and they were both covered in dirt and grass, but they beamed at the camera.

Everyone crowded around Lynn to see all the pictures as she flipped through them on her digital camera. There were a lot of Sam and Mercedes' brothers. The cutest one though was of them during half time. Sam and Mercedes had been joking with each other when Jasper came over. Sam had scooped the baby up into his arms and put him on his shoulders.

The three-year old was leaning over the top of Sam's head to look at Sam's face and Sam was smiling up at the child. Mercedes was standing close by—her hand on Jasper's back to make sure he didn't fall backwards. She was laughing. If Sam or Mercedes had looked older—Jasper could've been their son. They looked like a family. It was slightly disconcerting for Mercedes to see.

She didn't even notice the growing looks of amusement and knowing that were appearing on her brothers' and the adults' faces as she and Sam looked at the pictures together. They were mocking each other and laughing over some of the action shots of the game.

It didn't take them long to clean things up in the yard and start walking back to the house to get ready for dinner.

"So, Mercury," Jason began as he fell in step with her and tossed an arm over her shoulders, "You excited?" he asked.

Mercedes blinked at him. "Excited about what?" she questioned in return and Jason raised his eyebrows.

"Prom," he replied, "its next weekend, isn't it?"

Mercedes' face blanched for a moment. She had totally forgotten—or at least she had forced herself to forget. She forced a weak smile onto her face and said, "Yeah, it is." Jason must've picked up on the pissed vibes she was sending out, because he stopped his line of questioning. Mercedes didn't notice Sam frown at her as she walked inside.

* * *

><p><strong>April 24, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**9:52PM**

Sam narrowed his eyes at her, and she returned the gesture as they stared across the board at each other. Mercedes' family had a weekly ritual—their Sunday night game of Monopoly was a staple in their weekly routine. And nearly every week, Mercedes won, but she had found a worthy opponent in Sam, who was meeting her dollar for dollar on every advance she made.

The game had begun immediately after dinner where Sam quickly revealed his impressive knowledge of all things Monopoly. This was after he'd stopped mentally spazzing over the collector's edition _Lord of the Rings_ Monopoly board they'd pulled out.

They'd been playing for almost an hour and a half now, and they'd cleaned everyone else's clocks. It was just Mercedes and Sam in the game now—and it was pretty much a stalemate.

Until Sam's lucky dice throwing skills finally gave out and he landed on Mercedes' highest grossing property. He lost more than half of his money in one blow, and he conceded defeat fifteen minutes later.

Mercedes tried her best to keep the victorious expression off her face, but Sam just threw a game piece at her. "Go ahead and roar, Nala," he told her, "I know you want to."

Just to get back at him—she did just that. Mercedes let out a loud growl right in Sam's ear. He stared at her wide-eyed, before he started laughing. Mercedes joined him.

As they packed up the game, Sam nudged her shoulder. "This isn't over yet," he said. "I demand a rematch."

"Whatever you say, Blondie," she replied, "If you want to be a masochist, you can go right ahead."

Sam stuck his tongue out at her, and Mercedes rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. They packed up the game in silence and Sam watched as Mercedes put it away. When she turned around, Sam was staring out of the window.

She walked up beside him and asked, "Want to go look at them?" He seemed pretty enraptured with the stars that were shining in the night sky.

Sam turned his gaze to her, before replying, "My family has to leave in a little while, but yeah, I'd love to."

Mercedes gave him a smile as she moved around him to go to the kitchen and through the door to the backyard. They walked together in a comfortable silence. It was weird for Mercedes. She was going to miss seeing Sam all day and just spending time getting to know him. She didn't want to admit it, but she wasn't ready for this weekend to be over. It felt like they had just gotten started.

Mercedes sat down on the lush green grass and she heard Sam plop down beside her. Mercedes admired the stars for awhile, before Sam cleared his throat.

"You know anything about stars?" he asked and she shook her head.

"I'm not usually a stargazer," she confessed, "unless you count me staring at celebrities on Perez Hilton's blog."

Sam laughed and spoke, "At least I'm not the only one clueless." Mercedes rolled her eyes when he winked. For a moment she had been expecting some spark of sheer brilliance from Sam, but she should've known. It was Sam. He wouldn't reveal more than he had to.

"Quinn said you were into Astronomy, though," Mercedes pondered aloud and Sam stared at her.

"I am into Astronomy," he replied, "But I have a hard time reading books as it is—big books with almost unpronounceable words takes me forever—and I end up just giving up."

Mercedes frowned at the sadness she could hear in his tone. Sam really hated being dyslexic. It made him seem like a walking stereotype, he'd told her during one of their auditorium lunches—blonde, football player, and stupid.

Nothing she said seemed to get through that cloud of depression. She would have to think up some plans later. He shouldn't be so down on himself for having a learning disability. It wasn't his fault.

"If it makes you feel any better—it took me forever to learn how to swing." Mercedes told him and Sam gave her a look.

"Swinging?" he questioned.

"Yeah," she replied defensively. "I could never get the hang of the back and forth motion without freaking myself out. I used to be terrified of heights."

"And now?" he responded.

"I love swinging," she stated with a huge grin. And she really did. Once she'd gotten over her irrational fear of falling off, she'd fallen in love with swinging. "It feels like I'm flying—like nothing anyone says or does can hurt me, or touch me. I don't have to think or feel when I'm swinging. It's like I'm that much closer to God's love."

Mercedes could feel Sam's eyes on her. She had been swinging a lot more than usual lately. There had been many feelings that Mercedes didn't know how to deal with on her own, and no matter how much she prayed—it was slowly eating at her. She needed to feel close to something.

"I saw you earlier," Sam admitted quietly and Mercedes looked over at him. He could feel his heart pounding. How was he supposed to phrase this?

"Saw me what?" she asked.

"When Jason was asking you about prom," Sam said. He could actually see her tense and it made him sad, "You just _froze_."

"I'd forgotten about it," she replied, "His question just took me by surprise."

* * *

><p>Sam looked at her skeptically. He may not be the sharpest crayon in the box, but he wasn't an idiot. And he knew her well enough now to be able to tell when she was being honest and when she was lying.<p>

"Bullshit," Sam declared. Mercedes' eyes snapped to his and he was surprised to see the redness of her brown orbs. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, before Mercedes turned her head away from him. "Do you remember what I told you yesterday? In the basement?" Sam asked as he scooted closer and placed a hand on her shoulder.

He saw her nod lightly. "I told you that you didn't have to be alone anymore," he said, "And I meant what I said."

He could feel her tremble. "Please talk to me?" he asked, "What is it about prom that has you reacting this way?"

"No one asks me," she replied and Sam's brow furrowed. _What did that mean?_

"What do you mean?" he asked and Mercedes' shoulders slumped.

"No one _ever_ asks me anywhere, Sam," she admitted, "I've never been asked out on a date, and my only relationship was with Puck—and it was an arrangement; he didn't even really like me. I had the most idiotic crush on Kurt last year. I'd made up this whole relationship in my head when he was clearly gay. I've never been so humiliated by anything when the truth finally came out. And now, he's my best friend and dating one of the sweetest guys ever and I have to watch them be happy in love every time I go see him. It _hurts_, Sam. "

Sam was upset when he saw the tears sliding down her cheeks.

"Mercedes," Sam whispered.

"I talk big and I pretend like it doesn't affect me when I see my friends jumping in and out of relationships while I sit on the sidelines—wondering when it'll be my turn to be kissed, and held and told that I'm worth fighting for?" she told him, "I'm used to being alone, but that doesn't mean that I _want_ to be. I try so hard to let it all roll off my back and I try to be a good person. Yet all the guys go after the crazy ones!"

"That's not true," Sam said weakly.

"_Of course_," Mercedes replied, her tone biting, "That's why you went out with Quinn and Santana. They are both _civil and sane_ individuals."

Sam watched her trying to blink away her tears. He felt his heart constrict. A girl as amazing as Mercedes shouldn't be alone and she definitely shouldn't be crying.

"And with all this talk about _prom_—dresses, dates, dinner," she continued, "I'm just so done with feeling like the ugly outcast. I'm _tired _of being lonely!" The heartbreak was plain to see on Mercedes' face. "I'm a _girl_ too. I'm a human being who needs love and affection; just like everyone else."

Sam didn't know exactly what to do at the moment, but he let his instincts take over.

He pulled her into his arms and just let her cry out her frustration. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't imagine what that must feel like. This was one issue that he couldn't really relate to, but he would do all he could to keep her mind off of things. He knew that she would be okay once all this prom drama was over and done with. He just hoped that he was enough to keep her strong for the next week.


	12. Smile, Sweet Lonesome Child, Smile

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter. There is dialogue from the GLEE episode "Prom Queen". That material is owned by the writers of GLEE. I take no credit for it. **

**This chapter-gosh this chapter is my heart in words. I was actually crying while writing this, and knowing that it means so much to people, I don't feel like I've done it enough justice, but I know that if I wanted to do that-it would take me a lifetime to write. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Prom is coming up soon! This is just the beginning. :) Happy reading! **

* * *

><p><strong>April 26, 2011 (Tuesday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**3:07PM**

Sam was worried about Mercedes. It had been nothing but prom talk for the past two days, and he could see how badly it was affecting her. She was trying her best to keep everything together, but Sam could tell that she was more sad than angry. He wished all the prom crap would stop. He couldn't afford to go—even though he wanted to—and it made him even more miserable that he had no way of fixing his problem, much less Mercedes'.

After she'd stopped crying Sunday night, Sam had to leave about twenty minutes later, but he'd spent the night worrying about her and apparently for good cause. He arrived in the Glee room much earlier than usual in an attempt to talk with Mercedes before the other Glee members got there.

Unfortunately, Santana, Lauren and Brittany decided to walk in early too. He rolled his eyes heavenward as he heard their conversation.

"I've been to _Ann Taylor Loft_, _Flynn's Basement_ and like six _Forever 21_s. And I cannot find a dress that fits. I'm going to be forced to make my own dress for prom," Lauren sounded pissed as hell. Sam groaned under his breath. _Damn prom, again_. He prayed that they would stop talking about it before Mercedes got here.

"Don't," Brittany said as she sat in her chair—only a couple of seats down from Sam, "You'll seem poor." Offended, Sam glared in her direction and the clueless girl shrugged apologetically. He loved everyone in Glee club, but they could be tactless at times.

Kurt patted Sam on the shoulder in consolation as Santana started talking, "You're up for _Queen_; you can't make your prom dress. Prom is like our Oscars—it's seriously like the most important night of our lives." The Latina looked upset that Lauren would even consider that as an option.

Lauren sounded confused as she spoke, "What about getting married?" That was a legitimate question to Sam. At least one of these girls wasn't insane.

When Quinn leaned forward and said, "Oh, you can get married as many times as you want—you only get one shot at your junior prom," Sam felt his stomach twist. How had he ever thought himself to be in love with her?

He shot the blonde girl a disgusted look and opened his mouth to say something about how dumb her comment was when he saw Mercedes. Her expression was downtrodden and he could see the defensiveness in her posture—her arms were crossed as she came into the room.

Sam hated seeing the sadness in her eyes. He hated it even more when she sat down in front of him and turned her back to him without so much as a hello. She hadn't said much of anything to anyone all day, and during lunch she just ate in silence.

"What are you guys talking about?" she asked.

"Prom dresses." Lauren answered and Sam saw her tense in her chair and her head bowed a little. Watching her, Sam felt like the worst friend ever. He knew what was wrong, but he was powerless to do anything about it.

"Thank God, I don't have to worry about that. I'm not going." She said firmly and he could see the disbelief on the faces of the girls around her. Kurt looked disappointed and surprised.

If he had the money, he would ask Mercedes to prom himself, but life was funny that way. It made his friend want a good prom night and made him too poor to make it happen for her.

Sam slumped back into his chair.

"Why not?" Kurt asked softly—his eyes staring at Mercedes. Sam noticed the moment Kurt figured out that something was wrong, because he straightened up in his seat and his eyes narrowed the tiniest bit.

"Because nobody's asked me," she muttered—Sam could hear the pain in her voice; buried under the angry nonchalance. Sam prayed that this would be the end of all the prom talk. She needed a break from all this crap.

His wish came true when Mr. Schue clapped his hands together to get their attention, but Sam was crushed when the man opened his mouth to speak.

"Alright guys, _prom_." Mr. Schue was grinning when he said it, but Sam's fists clenched. He was cursing up a storm in his head. _Damn prom._ What the hell was with everybody? Did they not notice anything?

"Please tell me we're _not_ doing songs about prom," Sam said through gritted teeth. Kurt raised an eyebrow at him, but Sam ignored it. He was so freakin' tired of all this. It was the second day of Prom week and he hadn't been able to help Mercedes at all. He stared at Mr. Schue with narrowed eyes. Things couldn't possibly get much worse.

"Nope," Mr. Schue responded and that would've been just fine if he hadn't continued, "_We are the prom_. Figgins has asked us to perform." Sam closed his eyes in an attempt to restrain himself from leaping out of his chair and wailing on the curly-haired teacher. _Damn shitting fucktards._ The curse words were bouncing around in his head like ping pong balls. This was just _great_.

"Let's do 'Run, Joey Run'," Rachel piped up from her seat next to Mercedes. Sam felt his eye twitch as the conversation continued.

"Now I know this isn't ideal with Nationals coming up but we really don't have a choice. And we could really use the money," Mr. Schue said, "But I know that prom is a special rite of passage, and I'll make sure that all of you guys get a chance to enjoy the dance."

Sam saw Mercedes' shoulders slump and her head bowed completely. He wanted to kick somebody. The urge to smack Quinn and Finn who were smiling sappily at each other was incredibly strong.

"So we're going to stagger the performances so that each and every one of you has a lot of time to dance with your _dates._" Mr. Schue let out a small laugh, but Sam saw Mercedes' shoulders shake. He closed his eyes as she stood abruptly.

"Excuse me," she mumbled, before hurrying out of the classroom. Sam was seeing red. He was _so_ pissed. She didn't deserve to feel this way. The helpless rage Sam was feeling amplified as Mr. Schue stared after her.

"Is she okay?" the teacher asked as he looked over the remaining Glee club members.

"Mercedes doesn't have a date for prom," Quinn replied and Sam wanted to punch her.

She could show some damn remorse for her friend. It would shock the hell out of Sam if she thought about anyone besides herself. She had certainly done a number on Sam's self-confidence—talking him down at every turn, making him into something that he wasn't. She had never accepted a damn thing about him when they were together. He couldn't even fathom what he had been thinking.

"_So_, I don't have a date." Brittany said with a shrug, "I'm just going to dance. Then all your dates are going to ignore you and come and dance with me. So, all of your dates are really my dates." She fist-pumped the air for a moment and Sam couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes.

He needed to go see if Mercy was okay, so Sam started to stand, but Kurt placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

"I'm going to go talk to Mercedes," the brunet said, but Rachel stopped him as she got up quickly.

"No, let me," she insisted, before she walked out of the choir room—not giving Kurt or Sam the chance to say anything. Sam sat there—worrying his bottom lip.

He hoped she was okay. He would have to stop by and visit her if he got the chance this afternoon. He had promised to help Lynn at her shop this afternoon though and then he had work at the pizzeria. And he needed to help Stacey and Stevie with their reading projects for school tonight—not to mention the pile of calculus and English homework he had to do for tomorrow.

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face. Now he had to work on preparing a song choice for prom. He would just have to call her tonight if he didn't see her again. Sam doubted that she'd be coming back to Glee club today though. She might have been roped into helping Lynn clean up for her shop, but Sam hadn't really seen her in the past couple of days—so he didn't know for sure.

He leaned back in his chair and sighed as Mr. Schue started giving them details. _Damn prom._

* * *

><p>Mercedes could feel the anger coursing through her veins. Her heart was beating faster and there was a rushing sound in her ears. She hated all of this. It seemed like every one was determined to rub prom in her face. And poor Sam—she knew that he had been trying to distract her from everything, but he couldn't rip down all the posters and flyers and he certainly couldn't stop all the conversations.<p>

She knew she had hurt him when she ignored him today, but she was pretty sure that he understood. She had admitted the problem to him only two days ago.

Mercedes opened her locker and pulled out her backpack. She stuffed her history book, English book, Spanish text and Calculus book into her bag, before she spotted Rachel coming out of the choir room.

The brunette approached Mercedes timidly, "Hey," she began with a pathetic smile, "I don't have a date to prom either."

Mercedes paused for a moment as she stared into her locker. There was nothing remotely similar about her situation and Rachel's. They were on opposite ends of the spectrum—Rachel didn't have a date because she had broken up with her boyfriend and was still in love with him. Mercedes didn't have a prom date because no one was interested.

Even admitting that in her head caused a sharp pain in her chest. Mercedes couldn't tell if it was from shame of not being attractive to anyone or loneliness from having to watch everyone else fall in and out of love.

Before she knew what she was doing, she'd turned to look at Rachel who was giving her a sympathetic look.

"I know that I talk a good game about not needing a man and I don't," Mercedes confessed. And it was true. She knew that she had wonderful friends—most of the time—and a great family, talent, good grades, and beauty, but that didn't stop the longing for romance. It was human nature to want someone to come home to.

Mercedes turned back to her locker and said, "I just really wanted to take a date to the prom. I want the dress, and the guy—_damn corsage_." She tossed a broken pen from her backpack into her locker and slammed the door shut.

"Someone may still ask you," Rachel said with a stutter. _Damn prom._

"It's this Saturday," Mercedes snapped, her voice cracking. There was a momentary quiet between the two girls. "I just wanted to be Cinderella—just for _one_ night," she told Rachel—feeling the tears prickle at the back of her eyes.

For one moment, Mercedes wanted her fairy tale.

After everything—all the love and kindness she'd given and the hardship she had suffered—she wanted just one night to be appreciated. _Was that really too much to ask?_

"One night, where a guy would look at me under those corny crepe paper streamers and say, 'You look so beautiful' and then he'd grab my hand and ask me to dance." Mercedes looked Rachel in the eyes, "Isn't that what prom is supposed to be about?" she questioned and Rachel looked like she was about to burst into tears. Good, she could be the one to cry this time instead of Mercedes.

She was sick and tired of crying herself to sleep on nights when she felt lower than low and unappreciated. Rachel took a deep breath and said, "You're not going to go to prom alone. You'll go with me."

"That's even more depressing," Mercedes scoffed and Rachel looked panicked for a moment. Mercedes watched the facial expressions flit across Rachel's face in rapid succession. A gleam shined in Rachel's brown eyes when she looked up again. Mercedes would recognize that calculating look in her eyes anywhere.

"I have a plan." Rachel stated, before grabbing a reluctant Mercedes' arm and walking down the hallway. She began explaining rapidly.

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><p><strong>April 27, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**The Motel Six**

**Lima, Ohio**

**1:02AM**

It turned out that Mercedes had actually stopped by to help Lynn, but she'd done so while Sam was in an extra-long Glee rehearsal and she had left about ten minutes before Sam walked inside _The Music Shop_. So he stayed with Lynn for a couple of hours—helping her strip the bad floor boards in her restaurant space.

She and his dad still didn't have a design plan but Lynn wanted to open this summer which meant the renovations would have to be thorough and fast. So she was cleaning out the space beforehand to save time later. His dad had done a lot of work already. He had started tearing things out last week, but it was a lot for one person to do.

After being there for a couple of hours—Sam went to his actual job at the pizzeria. The night seemed to drag on as he delivered pizzas and worried about Mercedes the whole time. When finished, he had gone home—done his homework and looked over Stacey and Stevie's reading projects. They had done a decent amount of work, but it wasn't completed. Sam showered and then he went to bed.

He had only been asleep for about an hour when he felt his phone vibrate. His brain was still in sleep mode when he answered the phone, but he came out of it when he heard crying on the other end of the line.

Wide awake, Sam sat up in the bed. "Hello?" he whispered trying not to wake his family.

"_Sam?"_ When he recognized Mercedes' voice, Sam's heart almost stopped beating.

"Mercy?" he asked as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. "What's wrong?" He could feel his heart beat speeding inside his chest as he waited for her to answer.

"Come outside," she replied through tears and Sam blinked.

"Give me a second," Sam told her, before he hung up the phone and got out of bed. He slipped on his discarded jeans and shoved his feet into his shoes. He made his way to the front door and grabbed his zip up jacket as he unlocked it. He pulled the jacket on and stepped outside. He wasn't surprised when he saw Mercedes' BMW parked in front of his motel room.

Moving forward, Sam went to the passenger side of her car and his eyes widened when he saw her sitting there—her head on the steering wheel. He opened the door and climbed inside.

For a second, he didn't think she knew he was there, but she looked up at him and his heart broke at the sight of her tears. "Mercedes," Sam said softly and she met his eyes before reaching into the backseat to grab a small box on the floor.

Without a word she handed it to Sam, who took it reluctantly. "What's this?"

"It was my mom's," she admitted. Sam looked down at it. It showed signs of wear along the bottom and the corners, but there were faded pictures glued all over it. "My mom made this box after she was molested."

Sam's throat tightened. He didn't like where this was going.

"She told me that she made this box to remind herself that even in her darkest times—there were people who loved her. She told me that she'd refused to let herself be consumed by resentment. That every single day was a battle—and she had to fight to smile most of the time," Mercedes' breath was catching and Sam could see that she was overwhelmed. "She said, 'Baby, strength doesn't come from making it to the happy ending. It comes from waking up on the day when you feel like dying would be a relief and forcing yourself to smile when you just want to cry.' She told me that there were moments when she could stand in a crowd of people and feel alone."

"And the loneliness was what drove her to tears the most. It wasn't the fear or the shame or the helplessness, but the feeling of having no one to make her believe in love again—that was the part that crushed her," Mercedes said. She was white knuckling the steering wheel—her head bowed forward.

Sam wished he could do _something. Damn it all._

"She gave the box to me tonight," Mercedes sobbed, "And I think it's because she's noticed how lonely I feel right now." She looked so distraught that Sam wanted to cry himself. But he knew that him losing his cool wouldn't help anything-the least of all Mercedes. He took her hand in his and she felt him squeeze his fingers.

"Cede, I'm _right here_," Sam protested and Mercedes gave him a weak smile.

"I know you are, Sam," she told him, "_I know you are_. That's why I'm here. I just really didn't want to cry by myself tonight."

Sam placed the box gently on the dashboard of her BMW, before he got out of the truck. He closed his door and walked over to Mercedes' side. She stared at him as he opened her door and tugged her hand until she slid out of the vehicle. Sam pressed the unlock button on the door, before he slammed the driver's side closed and led her to the back of her BMW.

He lifted the trunk door and hopped up on the ledge with his legs swinging over the side. Sam finally glanced at Mercedes and beckoned her to him. She walked over warily. Sam helped her into the back before he pulled her into his embrace.

As her head hit his shoulder, Sam suddenly remembered that he was wearing a jacket with no shirt, but he ignored his blush as Mercedes' returned the hug. Sam felt her warm tears slide along his skin and he did his best to comfort her.

He ran his hands up and down her back. He hummed lightly and he just held her. There was nothing more he could do but be there for her. He didn't know how long he sat there trying to stop her tears, but eventually she fell into an exhausted slumber. It didn't take much for Sam to follow her.

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><p><strong>April 27, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**12:07PM**

"Is this a surprise party or something?" Sam asked warily as he followed Rachel past the stage curtain, "Because my birthday was last week."

Rachel looked shocked at that admission. "It was?" she responded, "Uh, no, Mercedes and I have a proposition for you." Sam glanced over by the piano as Rachel touched his arm. He was surprised to see Mercedes there. She had successfully dodged his questions after they'd woken up in the back of her truck when the sun rose this morning, but she looked happier and more nervous.

Sam stared between the two girls in confusion. Rachel and Mercedes were propositioning him for something—especially after the last couple of days?

"We were wondering if you'd like to go to prom with us?" Mercedes asked shyly and Sam had to forcefully stop himself from gaping at her in disbelief. _Prom?_ With both of them? Did they forget he was _poor_ in the last twenty four hours?

Sam couldn't buy a spare package of cookies much less rent a tux.

His incredulity must've shown on his face because Rachel spoke up—speaking faster than normal. "Sort of like a three way date, but _not_ the dirty kind."

Sam couldn't stop the small smirk that appeared on his face and Mercedes rolled her eyes at him. She couldn't say anything—he was still a guy, a nice guy, but a _guy_. He let out a flustered laugh as they both stared at him expectantly.

"That sounds _great_, but I can't afford to take one girl to prom," he admitted, his face going red. Even though they both knew about his situation—it was still embarrassing to admit something like that to them. "I don't know how I'm going to take _two_." He looked between them—hating to crush their hopes.

Surprisingly he was the one taken aback when Rachel pulled out three twenty dollar bills. He couldn't help staring.

"What's this?" he asked. Were they planning on bribing him or something?

"Our prom budget," Rachel said with a smile.

"You're going to have to borrow a suit from your dad and we're going to buy five dollar dresses down at the Goodwill. We're going to make our corsages from the flowers in my mom's garden," Mercedes told him with a small shrug as Rachel handed each of them a twenty. His head snapped up to stare at Mercedes and she gave him a smile and a nod.

He couldn't help smiling at her. Not even three days had gone by and she was letting people closer. He was so proud of her. His attention was drawn to Rachel when she started talking.

"And we can walk to prom and use what's left to get the 8.99 all-you-can-eat pasta special at Breadstix," she said with a smile at Mercedes, before she glanced back at him. Sam chewed on his bottom lip, considering the offer.

He wanted to say yes but he'd feel guilty about borrowing money from anyone—much less one of his friends. He didn't miss the look Mercedes shot Rachel and the girl said, "But the twenty dollars—it's not charity—it's a loan."

Sam should've known that Mercedes would have that figured out. He laughed quietly to himself as Rachel and Mercedes stared hopefully at him. "So will you go with us?" Mercedes questioned.

Sam glanced at them both, before smiling.

"It would be an honor," Sam accepted with a lopsided grin.

Rachel squealed and danced a bit while Mercedes let out a relieved cheer and punched the air with a huge smile on her face. Sam laughed as the two of them moved forward and Sam threw an arm over each in a three-way hug.

The blinding smile on Mercedes' face made his day. He was happy that he'd been able to do something after all.

Rachel walked out of the auditorium not long after to go talk with Mr. Schue about a possible song choice for prom. As soon as the brunette girl had left—Mercedes threw her arms around Sam again. He laughed and returned the embrace.

"Thank you, Sam," she said into his chest. Sam tugged lightly on some strands of her hair with one hand.

"No problem, Nala," he replied and Mercedes pulled back a bit to shake her head at him. She and Sam started walking towards the exit—his arm over her shoulders and her still hugging his side. Sam didn't mind at all.

"You know this means you have to help me shop, right?" Sam asked and Mercedes looked up at him

"What do you mean?" Mercedes replied.

"I mean that you're going to have to help me find something to wear; I don't know if my dad's suit will work for me."

"You want me to help you find a suit?" she queried and Sam nodded. "Then you're modeling each one for me."

Sam groaned. "You just want to objectify me!" he protested and Mercedes laughed.

"You're _objectification worthy_, Blondie," she replied in amusement. Sam moved his amused gaze to the top of her head.

"Are you telling me I'm hot?" he teased.

Mercedes smirked up at him. "You wouldn't be objectified if you weren't," she said, "And you're still trying on all the suits."

Sam wanted to be irritated but he knew that she would make him look good, and he could put up with it—as long as she kept smiling instead of frowning.

"Fine," he grumbled good-naturedly as Mercedes finally stepped away from him.

"You're also coming with me to find a dress," she told him matter-of-factly as she stepped out of the door. It shut in his face before Sam could even think of a reply. _Him?_ Looking for dresses?

"I'm what?" he cried before he hurriedly opened the door and chased after her. "_Mercedes!_"

_Damn prom._

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><p><strong>April 28, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**Goodwill Store**

**Lima, Ohio**

**6:07PM**

"Most people call this cruel and unusual punishment," Mercedes looked up as Sam swung the dressing room curtain open and walked out of the stall. She choked back a laugh at the sight of him in a bright orange tuxedo.

Sam looked at himself in the mirror and said, "I look like an ompalumpa with a bad dye job."

Mercedes burst out laughing and Sam couldn't prevent his own chuckles from escaping. She had been having a lot of fun at his expense today and he'd been really nice about it. Though she was pretty sure it was because he didn't have to do any serious dress shopping.

Mercedes had almost immediately found the dress she wanted. It was a beautiful shade of purple that offset her complexion. She had tried it on and Sam couldn't stop gaping when she'd walked out. His astounded expression had gone a long way to cheer her up and boost her confidence even more.

Now they just needed to find him a suit to wear. So far, they hadn't been able to find a single plain black suit for him to wear. They'd found some pretty strange stuff and Mercedes had enough pictures to blackmail Sam for life. But it had been a fun afternoon—the two of them shopping together in the thrift store.

The past few days had been so busy—she had finally been cornered by Kurt, who apologized for neglecting her and they'd spent all Wednesday afternoon just catching up. Sam had been working his usual pizzeria shifts, but with extra hours tacked on the ends because he was taking Saturday off. He had also been helping out at the shop more.

Mercedes was at the shop as often as possible too, but she seemed to have some other commitment that Lynn knew about, but wouldn't say anything when asked about her distraction. That was usually the only way he got to hang out with Mercedes besides their auditorium lunches, and they were usually cleaning so they didn't get a chance to really talk about anything.

It didn't help that the teachers were piling on the homework and rehearsals for Glee club were longer than ever—with them preparing for Nationals as well as the quickly approaching prom. They were all distracted and their song writing attempts were turning out to be incredibly pathetic.

Mercedes watched as Sam walked back into the dressing with a disappointed expression on his face. She so badly wanted to offer one of her brother's tuxes, but she knew that Sam's pride wouldn't let him accept. He was too strong for his own good sometimes. She pushed the worry to the back of her mind as she focused on the upcoming weekend.

Kurt, Rachel, Santana, Tina, Quinn, Brittany, and Lauren were set to have a sleepover on Friday night—so they could all do a pre-prom beauty marathon. Sam had mentioned that the guys were all going to Puck's house to play pool and video games—he had no idea if they planned on staying the night or not.

She was happy that Glee club was closer than ever. It was sad that Artie and Brittany had broken up, but she was glad that she wasn't the only single person besides Rachel in the club. Sam came out of the stall—dressed in dark blue and baby blue baseball tee and his usual faded jeans. He smiled at her as she gathered her bag with her dress and made her way over to him.

They walked out of the store with her arm in his. "That was fun," she told him and Sam smiled at her.

"It wasn't too bad," he replied, "I'm glad you found a dress, but now I have to go beg my father to let me borrow his suit."

"I'm sure your dad won't mind," she said and Sam shrugged.

"I know," he admitted, "I just wanted to do this on my own, you know. Make it seem like my life isn't defined by me being poor. I've failed at everything else I tried to do by myself."

Mercedes stared up at him. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Sam's face turned bright red and he avoided her eyes. "I can't ride a bike." He told her sheepishly and Mercedes couldn't help but look at him in disbelief. "I tried to teach myself and I just couldn't get it."

He looked so ashamed that Mercedes wanted to wrap him in a hug and console him. It was the least she could do after all he had done for her in the last week.

Instead she squeezed his arm and stopped him. "You _aren't_ defined by your financial status. The people who matter don't care about how much money you have," she stated, "I know I don't."

Sam searched her eyes for a moment, before she spoke again, "Asking for help doesn't make you weak, Sam. It takes a lot more strength to admit that you need help than to sit back and wallow in your problems." Mercedes gave Sam a smile that said everything. Looking at him, she knew that he understood her implication. She would never be able to repay him for holding her when she was coming apart at the seams. Sam had inadvertently rejuvenated her strength by being the amazing guy he was. He had reminded her that the love in this world was far stronger than anything she could possibly imagine.

"Your dad loves you, and I think he'd be happy to have you wear his suit to prom," she told him with a smile. The gratitude in his expression was enough for Mercedes and they continued walking down the street. She knew that something had changed about their relationship in the last week, but she couldn't tell if she liked the feeling of being vulnerable with Sam or not.

He could make her give in with a look, and he was starting to read her moods—something that honestly terrified her. It had been so long since she let anyone this close to her heart, but Sam Evans was _addicting_. She couldn't walk away from him yet she was afraid of being with him. He was learning her weaknesses—reopening wounds that had long since scarred over.

It didn't help that he was fast becoming a part of her family. If she didn't figure this out—Sam was going to become her number one weakness. And Mercedes didn't know if she could deal with that.

* * *

><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! :D Until next time! <strong>


	13. Nights To Remember

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter. There is dialogue from GLEE episode "Prom Queen". I take no credit for those lines. That dialogue belongs to the writers of GLEE. (No matter how sucktastic they seem at the moment for writing off Sam)**

**PROM is in the next chapter! Happy reading! :D**

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><p><strong>April 29, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**Puck's Place**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:07PM**

"I don't see how you do it, Puck," Mike said as he furiously battled his friend. Sam wanted to laugh at the smug smirk on Puck's face as his character laid the smack down on Mike's player. They had already gone through four rounds of _Super Street Fighter II: Turbo_ and Puck had destroyed them all.

Mike was trying valiantly but he was defeated a minute later. Mike groaned and tossed the controller to a grinning Finn. He stared at the victorious Puck and said, "You have to be cheating. Nobody is this good naturally."

"That's what all the girls say, but then I prove them wrong too."

Sam cracked up when Mike shot Puck a disgusted look. Finn was laughing on the side and Artie was snickering under his breath.

"I do not need to know about whatever action you're getting from Zizes." Mike told him.

"That girl has a strong—"

"Finish that sentence and I _will_ hurt you, Puckerman." Sam yelled as he looked away from Puck's grinning countenance.

"Someone's touchy," Puck teased, "I don't see why—we all know Santana had her hands _all _up in your business."

Sam tried his best, but his cheeks lit on fire anyway. He heard them all laugh as he blushed a bright red and avoided their gazes. "How do you know that?" he asked sheepishly; wondering if Mercedes had told anyone.

Puck gave him a look as he and Finn started a new round. Artie was the one to answer him though. "It's _Santana_," he said, "She's slept with pretty much every guy in glee club—with the exception of Mr. Schue, me and Mike."

"The glee club?" Puck snorted before cursing as Finn got the upper hand. He focused on his game until he reestablished equilibrium and then said, "She's had pretty much every guy in _school_."

Sam frowned. He had known that she got around, but he didn't think she was all that bad. Santana was abrasive yes, but she could also be nice when she wanted to be. She just showed her caring in _different_ ways.

"She may have gotten around, but she's a nice girl," Sam told them, trying to mentally figure out why he was defending her. When they were together she had done nothing but insult him right after complimenting him. She had dragged him around like an accessory, but she had helped him when he needed it.

He didn't like her much as a girlfriend, but Sam got the feeling that there was more to her harsh nature than they thought. And he really wasn't a fan of dissing people. Sam got four incredulous looks in response to his comment.

"A _nice _girl?" Mike exclaimed, "She tells me to paint her nails every time I'm around her."

"She locked me in a closet once." Artie threw in.

"She calls me a lumbering giant with custard nipples!"

"And she tries to trash talk my girl—that isn't cool."

Sam couldn't find words.

"And she made up that Trouty Mouth song about you," Finn said causing Sam's cheeks to flare red. "How could you say that she's a nice girl?"

"W-well, she doesn't do nice in the stereotypical way," Sam replied, "but neither does Rachel." Finn looked torn between surprise and irritation.

"Rachel's brand of annoying is different," Finn responded, "She does everything to get ahead. She usually has a reason. Santana is just _mean_."

"Yeah every once in a while I want to kick her in the ovaries," Puck tossed into the conversation, "Just to see if it'll bring out her missing mommy side or more bitchitude."

"I'm pretty sure _you_ would bitch if someone kicked you in the ovaries," Artie pointed out and Puck waved him off.

"Come on, man, she's not that bad," Sam said back. Puck let out a cry of indignation as Finn's character sucker-punched his, and they fought intensely. Puck won again before Mike stopped staring at Sam in confusion.

"What?" Sam asked and the Asian boy just gave him a knowing look.

"You still have the hots for Santana," Mike declared and Sam—who had just taken a sip of his soda—did a spit take. Finn let out a disgusted sound as he wiped soda from his arm.

"Where would you get an idea like that?" Sam demanded, but the four boys looked as though they had figured out the problem.

"You defended her and I saw you staring in her direction all week," Artie replied and Sam blushed.

He hadn't been staring at Santana—he'd been watching Mercedes all week long and she had been sitting next to the Latina. He wasn't sure that admitting that would help his case though.

"I do_ not_ have the hots for Santana," Sam told them, "I have no intention of going anywhere near that relationship again. It was too much work dating her. And I'm almost positive she's a lesbian."

"Right," Puck replied, disbelievingly. "What about Quinn? You were looking at her like she'd betrayed you on Tuesday when Mr. Schue talked about prom."

Again—that had been about Mercedes. This did look kind of bad, but there was nothing he could do about it. Finn's eyes were narrowed in his direction.

"You trying to get my girl?" he demanded and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Sorry Finn, but I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole," he replied. "I've had quite enough of crazy in my life. Quinn and I are _friends_ and that's all we will be."

Finn looked relieved and he nodded at Sam. The blond was just happy that he'd avoided any unnecessary drama. Quinn and Finn had been acting strange since they officially started dating again after Regionals.

"Alright fellas," Puck declared suddenly, "Time to stop talking about these boob-growing topics. We're _men_." Puck raised his controller high and said, "And men _don't_ talk about feelings. Let's go get some drinks, eat some crappy food that Kurt will bitch at Finn for later, and play some pool."

There was a chorus of cheers from the group and the night dissolved into fits of laughter, pranks, trash-talking, and serious game playing. They had another table tennis tournament and Artie smoked them again, but Sam destroyed them all in punch pong. With the exception of Artie—whose mom had come to pick him up—all the guys ended up passing out in various positions at Puck's house.

It had been an awesome night.

* * *

><p><strong>April 29, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**Quinn's Mansion**

**Lima, Ohio**

**8:17PM**

"Girls," Kurt said as he smoothed an avocado based facial mask onto Brittany's face, "have any of you seen the newest cover of _Vogue_? The outfits are to die for."

Tina smiled at the brunet boy as he turned Brittany's head to the side. "I've seen it on the shelves, but none of us are so fashion savvy. I have to make the recent trends work with my personal style and that's harder than it looks."

Kurt nodded in agreement as Santana plopped down on the ground—her legs crossed in front of her and her back resting against the edge of Quinn's huge bed.

"Even if you can't afford things exactly like the newest trends—remember that fit is always the most important thing. If the clothes don't suit your shape, then they're not worth buying." Kurt replied.

Lauren rolled her eyes as she sprawled out on a soft green chaise that rested in the sitting area in front of Quinn's bed. "In that case nothing is worth buying," she grumped as she examined her nails, "Fashion trends don't look good on anyone bigger than a size two."

"Face it, Kurtsie," Santana said as she flipped through a recent copy of _People_ magazine, "Triple X over there has a point. Women with curves don't look good in those clothes. I'm a size four with boobs and some dresses make me look like an overstuffed sausage."

"Fake boobs tend to do that to you," Lauren tossed back. Santana gave her a look.

"None of that," Mercedes spoke up as she walked into Quinn's room from the bathroom. Mercedes had to admit that Quinn's family was rich, but she had nothing on the Jones family.

Quinn's room was huge and made up of various soft blues and greens. She had a large bed in the center of the room—a canopy bed with sheer curtains falling softly around the entire thing. It was cast iron and had a blue and green quilt spread across it. Her walls were covered in band posters and family pictures. Mercedes noticed the pictures of various Glee club get togethers along one wall and had to smile.

About fifteen feet from her bed was a square sitting area with a rug in the center, a fancy looking couch, a chaise, and two armchairs sat closest to the fireplace that was in the wall. To the left of the sitting area was her study area—a light oak desk with cast iron fixings and a pretty green desk chair.

Quinn's books for school were all on the bookshelf to the right of the desk and her computer had a photo album screen saver. For a lingering moment, Mercedes stared at the picture of her and Quinn when she'd lived with the Jones family. It was right next to her bed—on the nightstand next to her lamp. She didn't think that Quinn remembered being almost sisters with Mercedes, but there was living proof that it had meant _something_ to the blonde.

She shook off the thoughts, before turning stern eyes onto her friends. "This is a pre-prom beauty marathon, and we only get two of these, so don't spoil the night by getting into a fight." She looked pointedly at Santana and Lauren—both of whom rolled their eyes.

"That rhymed," Brittany said with a giggle. Kurt smiled at the girl in amusement and Santana looked at the blonde fondly.

"Can we be nice?" Mercedes asked and Lauren flapped a hand at her.

"Whatever, Wheezy," Santana replied.

"Watch it girlie," Mercedes stated as she walked to the sitting area and sat down next to Brittany on the couch. "I _can _take you. I may not be from Lima Heights Adjacent and speak Spanish, but I'm from Lima Perpendicular to Lima Heights Adjacent and I speak kick ass."

Santana didn't look up from her magazine, but Mercedes caught the smile on her face. The Latina was a whole lot of talk and very little action, but when she popped off—Santana could tear shit down.

Kurt finished putting the mask on Brittany's face and said, "Mercy, you next?"

"I need to get my hair out of my face first," she replied and almost immediately Rachel was bouncing onto the couch behind her.

"I'll do it," the brunette said as she reached for Mercedes' hair. Kurt shrugged at her enthusiasm, before beckoning Santana over to get her mask. The Latina dropped her magazine and came over—plopping down in front of Kurt and next to Brittany.

"Can I braid your hair, Santana?" Brittany asked and Santana nodded. They shifted around until Santana was in between Brittany's legs—who had crossed her legs across Santana's lap—and Brittany was directly behind her against the couch cushions.

Brittany clapped in excitement before she started brushing the Latina's hair with her fingers.

"It's so pretty!" she said, "Nothing like Lord Tubbington's."

They all laughed, before Quinn walked into the room. She pushed a cart thingy into the room that was full of facial cleansers, make up, nail polish, and hair stuff. There was also a basket of bottled water and Kurt approved snacks on the bottom of the cart.

Lauren immediately went over to investigate and Tina hijacked the nail polish bin as she made her way to the sitting area. She plopped down on the floor next to Mercedes' feet.

"Alright ladies—and Kurt—it's time to get this pre-prom beauty marathon started for real," the blonde declared as she walked over to them. Quinn smoothed the cotton fabric of her green-polka dotted pajama top and shorts, before picking up her remote control.

She pressed a couple of buttons and everybody looked up as Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" started pouring out of the speakers of her built in surround sound system. She pulled her hair from its ponytail and shook it out, before throwing a fist in the air and letting out a yell. The others followed her lead and the fun began in full force.

Quinn took the lead and painted Santana's finger nails while Tina did her toenails. Santana painted Tina's fingernails while Quinn did her toes and they switched to finish Quinn. As the night progressed, topics abounded. From bitching about boyfriends hour—which Mercedes listened to with amusement and slight sadness—to how to deal with monthly puffiness during cycles—Kurt looked faintly green at that point, but when he told them that he was blessed to be born with a penis; he had been attacked with couch cushions.

There were of course some spats—that was impossible to avoid because of the sheer number of divas in the same room, but they all ended in laughter. Humiliating stories were shared and truth or dare was played. They had a conga line around Quinn's room and a pillow fight took place. Kurt had been mildly annoyed about his hair being messed up, but the girls had fun fixing it for him.

Of course, makeovers had been done. Kurt had talked each person through it—giving them advice on which colors would look best with their complexion and skin tone. They ended the night by watching _Cinderella_—the animated version. Being the Glee club members that they were—they all had to sing every song on the show as they reclined on Quinn's huge bed.

No one passed out until almost six in the morning, but they all slept with smiles on their faces. The first pre-prom beauty marathon was a success.

* * *

><p><strong>April 30, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Motel Six**

**Lima, Ohio**

**9:03AM**

When Sam walked into his family's motel room, he was instantly glomped on by his overexcited seven year old sister. "Sammy!" she cried as she leapt into his arms. The blond had to drop his backpack to catch her before she fell.

"Whoa there Sunshine," he said as he fumbled around trying to secure her in his grasp. She helped by latching onto his neck.

"We missed you last night," Stacey said as Sam kicked the door shut with his foot.

"You did?" he asked with a grin towards his father. "I thought you guys were gonna watch some movies."

"We did, but daddy doesn't do your impressions," Stacey replied, "And he's not very funny."

Sam burst out laughing at the put out look on his father's face. Stevie was grinning behind his comic book on the bed.

"Yeah," Sam said through his laughter, "I'll have to teach him a thing or two."

His father just flicked him on the ear as he walked past to sit on the bed. Sam grinned. "Teach me a thing or two—"Sam heard his father muttering. "I taught that little muffin head everything he knows."

Oh, God, not that nickname. Muffin head had been his father's go to nickname ever since Sam's fourth birthday party when Sam had demanded a giant muffin for his cake instead of an actual cake. It wasn't his fault. He had always preferred muffins to cake. Something no one seemed to understand.

He ignored his dad's musing as Stacey started talking. "And your big dance is tonight, right?" she asked and Sam nodded. "You're going to be singing too?" He smiled in agreement and was surprised when Stacey looked sad.

"What's wrong, Sunshine?" he asked her and she shrugged at him.

"We never get to see you sing," She admitted sadly, "We couldn't make it to your Sectionals or your Regionals performance and now we can't see you sing again."

"I sing to you all the time," he replied in confusion and Stacey shook her head.

"It's not the same!" she protested, "You're not all dressed up and dancing and on a stage with all the lights and stuff. I want to see you sing with the Glee club!"

His father looked like he felt the same way as Stacey, but was trying to hide it and Stevie avoided his gaze. Sam felt happy that they wanted to see him perform, but upset that the timing was always wrong. He hadn't realized that it meant so much to them—especially Stacey.

"I promise that you'll get to see me sing sometime Stacey," he told her wondering how the hell he would pull that one off, but he'd figure something out. He always did. "But in the meantime—you can dance with me, right now."

His little sister looked surprised but excited. "Why, Sammy?" she asked and he grinned.

"Because Lord knows that I need to practice," he told her making her giggle, "I have to impress the ladies." In one smooth motion, Sam stood up and spun them around in a circle. Stacey laughed loudly as he twirled her around the room.

"Are you gonna help me?" he asked and Stacey beamed. They both looked up when some 80s pop music started playing. Sam had to laugh as he watched his dad try to do the mashed potato. Stevie was standing on the bed—pulling some serious disco moves. As he placed Stacey on the ground and watched her start doing the sprinkler, he smiled.

_His family was so awesome. _

* * *

><p><strong>April 30, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Motel Six**

**Lima, Ohio**

**5:21PM**

"Sam, stop fidgeting!" Jeff ordered as his son twitched nervously in front of him. He was trying his best to fix the sleeves of his suit coat because they were too long for Sam's arms, but his impatient teenager wouldn't stop moving around. Jeff had accidentally stabbed his son twice with the pins he was using, but Sam apparently didn't learn.

When Sam almost made Jeff stab him with a pin again, the father of three tossed his hands into the air. "Muffin head, what is wrong with you?" he demanded as he looked at his son in exasperation. "It's a dance, Samuel. Not a wedding ceremony!"

He raised an eyebrow when his son blushed a bright red. "What's going on Sam?" he asked warily. Sam's cheeks darkened in response and he wouldn't meet Jeff's gaze. "Is it the girl you're taking?" Jeff questioned.

"Well," Sam admitted sheepishly, "I'm taking two girls." That confession threatened to stop Jeffrey's heart mid-beat. He gaped at his son.

"You're _what_?" Jeff asked, appalled. He had not raised a two-timing son. Jeff was positive that he'd taught his child better than that and—well; he forcefully kept his thoughts from wandering in that direction. Jeffrey stood up straighter and stared his son down. "Explain yourself right now, young man," he instructed. "You're not taking that Quinn or Santana girl are you?"

Sam seemed to finally understand where his father's thoughts had gone, because his eyeballs just about popped out of his head. "They know about each other—and no it's not Quinn or Santana," Sam said, "They paid me."

"_What?"_ Jeffrey exclaimed and Sam jumped. Jeffrey was on the verge of a heart attack.

_His son was a prostitute! _He should've taken him to church more or stopped him from watching all of those crime shows on television.

Sam blushed when he realized how that must have sounded to his father and he rushed to calm him. "Dad, they called it a prom on a budget. We each got twenty dollars—loaned from Rachel, who's one of my dates—to get outfits, dinner and everything. They didn't want to go alone so they invited me—knowing that I couldn't exactly afford everything on my own."

Jeff felt his heart beat returning to normal as Sam explained. He was getting too old for this.

"Rachel?" he asked, "Who else are you going with?"

"Mercedes," Sam replied as Jeff went back to work on pinning his sleeves. A smirk threatened to cross his face. Mercedes and Sam were like ostriches with their heads in the sand. They were so into each other that it annoyed Jeff to realize that they didn't even know they liked each other yet. It hadn't been hard to see.

Jeff, Lynn, David, and Delia had noticed it almost immediately after watching the two of them interact this past weekend. Mercedes' brothers had seen it too. Initially Jeff had worried about their reactions to the discovery, because he thought for sure that they would try to mess up his son's face. And Jeff wasn't going to let that happen—no matter how old he was; if someone tried to hit his kids, he would be the first one in that fight.

Surprisingly, the boys hadn't done that at all—and they ended up being friends by the end of the weekend. Jeff was happy that they got along well. He didn't see their friendship ending any time soon. It helped that Mercedes and her family were incredible people. And Jeff wasn't ashamed to admit that Lynn was a beautiful woman, who had given him a chance to turn his life around.

He would be forever grateful to her for hiring him.

"I'm sure you're going to have a lot of fun," Jeff said in reply and Sam grinned.

"I hope so!" Sam told him. "Cede said that I could pull out my robot and she would still dance with me. So I'm going to have to test that out." The delighted smile on Sam's face did wonders for Jeff's heart.

He would be forever grateful to Mercedes Jones as well. She had brought his son out of a lethal depression and back into their family. Seeing Sam smile so earnestly made him realize how much of a treasure his son was. His son had always been shy, but he had a loving personality whenever he felt comfortable. That joy had been missing for a year, and all traces of happiness had vanished along with his guitar.

To see him, laughing and happy again, it was a gift beyond comparison. He looked down at Sam's sleeve to hide the sudden watering of his eyes. He couldn't believe that Sam was about to go to his junior prom.

Sam had been his baby boy for so long that it felt like a punch to the gut to realize that he only had one more year with him in high school. They had been through so much together lately that time seemed to drag and speed by at the same time.

Jeff looked his son over once more to make sure he looked presentable. He chuckled a bit when he spotted the bolo tie he was sporting. Sam smiled at his dad, and Jeff couldn't help but place his hands on his son's face.

Sam looked confused as Jeff placed a kiss on his teenager's forehead. "Do you have any idea how proud I am of you, Samuel?" he asked—his voice gruff with emotion. Sam looked taken aback, but hopeful.

"You are?" Sam asked quietly and Jeff could've burst into tears right then. Their relationship had been strained to the breaking point in the past year and they had made tremendous progress in the last couple of weeks—having come together after Elizabeth's abrupt departure from the family.

But, they had a long way to go and Jeff prayed that this could be fixed before Sam went off to college. He would be damned if his son didn't know that he loved him at the end of every day from here on out.

Staring down at his son's nervous green eyes—eyes that he'd gotten from Jeff—he said, "Yes, I am." Jeff pulled his kid into a hug that Sam returned tightly. "I am so proud of you."

Jeff ran a hand through his son's hair as Sam's fingers gripped the fabric of his t-shirt. It looked like Sam had needed to hear those words far more than he'd first thought.

The hug broke off a moment later and Jeff pretended to not notice as Sam tried to inconspicuously wipe tears off his face.

"Let's get you to prom, muffin head," Jeff said with a teasing grin. Sam laughed as his dad clapped him on the shoulder and led him to the door. Jeff herded the youngest two out of the door of the motel room. "Where am I dropping you off?"

"_Breadstix_," Sam answered as he climbed into the passenger side of the truck and buckled his seatbelt. Jeff started up the truck as Stevie and Stacey fastened themselves in the backseat.

"Alrighty then," he said before putting the truck in reverse and pulling out of the motel parking lot. Jeff silently hoped that Sam would have the night of his life. His kid deserved it.

* * *

><p><strong>April 30, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Jones' Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**5:47PM**

All afternoon, Lynn had watched as Mercedes was sent through the beauty ringer—shower, shave, hair, dress. It was an exciting procession to watch and even more exciting to take part in. Lynn felt her heart constrict.

Spending the day helping her niece prepare for prom was a dream come true. This was something she would never be able to help her daughter or son with. She would never be able to help her pick out a hairstyle or do her makeup or zip up her dress. Lynn longed for a child to take care of.

And the Jones family was as close as she was going to get. Mercedes looked absolutely stunning in her fuscia dress. Her hair had been straightened and curled—tied in a side ponytail with a silver ribbon. Her makeup had been painstakingly put on by Lynn and Delia.

Lynn felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as she watched Mercedes descend the staircase. She looked so much like a princess that Lynn was tempted to squeal in excitement. She wasn't the only one moved by the sight of Mercedes. Delia was in tears and David looked like he was tempted to escort his daughter back upstairs and lock her away forever.

Her heart wouldn't stop breaking—no matter what she tried. Lynn watched David tell Mercedes that she looked beautiful and she couldn't help but want that moment. She observed as Delia hugged Mercedes close and exchanged words of endearment. The desire was burning a pit into her stomach.

She felt_ hollow_. She would never have that. Her ex-husband Davis had made sure of that. He had taken her kids from her—not that they would've stayed anyway. Davis had fed them so many lies about her that she hadn't stood a chance. Their hatred was what hurt the most.

Lynn watched her niece from afar—them having traded goodbyes earlier and she couldn't help but cry. She had lived with this pain for seven long years. Every day she prayed for God to soothe the ache in her heart. And most days, it was bearable, but moments like this—when she was reminded of everything she would never have or experience—the pain was excruciating.

Lynn smiled as Mercedes waved at her from the driver's seat of her BMW as she pulled out of the driveway. She just prayed that Mercedes would have the time of her life tonight. She deserved it. And she prayed that she would once again find the strength to smile tomorrow morning.

* * *

><p><strong>April 30, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Breadstix Restaurant**

**Lima, Ohio**

**6:06PM**

Mercedes ran into Rachel on her way into the restaurant. She loved Rachel's dress immediately, but she was not a fan of the guy on her arm. Rachel must've seen the look on Mercedes' face because the brunette girl sent Jesse ahead of her to find a table.

"And what is he doing here?" Mercedes demanded and Rachel gave her a shrug.

"We ran into each other the other day and I invited him to join us."

"Rachel," Mercedes groaned, "he made you into a breakfast plate—the least you could do is have some form of self-respect and tell him to get lost."

"He's _not _my date," Rachel protested immediately. "He's joining us—"Mercedes cut her off with a raised hand in the classic stop gesture.

"You're into him, Rachel," Mercedes told her bluntly. The brunette looked down at her pearl pink ballet flats. "And you try to deny it because you don't want others to know, but you're also still in love with Finn." Rachel's wide eyes snapped up to hers and she gave the shorter girl a knowing look.

"Just think before you do anything, okay?" Mercedes pleaded. "If you ask me—Jesse is dumber than a box of rocks. And you shouldn't let the desire for a boyfriend play into how you treat him tonight." As much as Mercedes wanted to say that she didn't think Jesse was good for Rachel—it wasn't her place. Rachel needed to get out of her head and start treating people right.

Normally, Mercedes would tell her just that—but tonight, she wanted no part in the drama that was bound to start between Finn, Quinn, Jesse and Rachel. It wasn't worth her time. And she planned on making her junior prom the most awesome night of the year—not just for herself but for Sam as well. Blondie deserved to have some fun.

Rachel nodded lightly before walking past Mercedes to the table where Jesse sat. The diva didn't have to think twice to know that her advice had gone in one ear and out of the other. She rolled her eyes and turned to walk inside when she caught sight of a familiar figure loping towards her.

"Sam!" she called and he turned his head to look at her. She could lie to herself and say that her heart didn't do a strange flip in her chest when Sam's green eyes lit up as he beamed at her, but tonight was supposed to be a good night and she didn't feel like being dishonest tonight.

So she grinned back at him from where she stood. "Hey Cede," he greeted when he finally reached her. Sam looked quite handsome in his borrowed suit, but the bolo tie was ridiculous. She didn't say anything though as he enveloped her in a hug.

"Shall we?" he asked—extending an arm to her and Mercedes couldn't help but laugh as she took his offered elbow. The host held open the door for them as they walked inside together—chatting up a storm about the previous night's activities.

When they reached the table—greetings were exchanged as Sam slid into the booth and sat closest to Rachel.

Mercedes stood in front of their booth, her hands on her hips. "How do I look?" she asked with a bright smile as she did a small twirl. Cheers and laughter from their table immediately rose as she modeled her dress with as much attitude as she wanted.

"Mercedes, can I just say that you look fierce in your dress?" Rachel said with a huge smile on her face.

"Totally Mercedes," Jesse agreed, "You both look smokin'."

Mercedes flicked her curls for a second and said, "Damn straight, I do." She slid into her seat next to Sam and smiled at him when he shot her a cheesy grin. Looking eager, the blond leaned forward—playing with his tie.

"Seriously, Jesse," Sam began excitedly, "What do you think of the bolo tie?" Sam's inner dork was showing and Mercedes couldn't help but look at him fondly. He had no idea that bolo ties had gone out of style twenty years ago. "Pretty cool, right? It's all Bruce Springsteen on the cover of the Tunnel of Love album."

Jesse looked like he didn't know what to say, and Mercedes almost wished he hadn't said anything when he did speak.

"Dude, that was like twenty years ago." He told Sam and Mercedes saw his expression drop. It was ridiculous for someone to look so upset over a bolo tie, but it seemed like Sam had really thought he'd gotten it right this time. "I'm really sorry to hear what happened to your family, Sam." That made the smile completely disappear off Sam's face and Mercedes wanted to smack Jesse for bringing it up. _Wow, curly Q, way to bring down the mood._

"I hope you don't mind," Rachel said, "I sort of filled Jesse in on what was going on." Mercedes narrowed her eyes in the brunette's direction and she gave Mercedes an apologetic look. She should've expected something like this because it was Rachel, but it didn't sit well with her. Sam didn't appear to be a fan either.

He looked incredibly uncomfortable as the conversation continued. Mercedes just rubbed his arm lightly in sympathy. He gave her a grateful smile.

"Of course it's okay," Jesse implored, "Sam has nothing to be ashamed of. I know how tough it is out there. I couldn't even get a job as one of those singing waiters at Johnny Rockets. But, I've got an idea. They say that the best time to start a business is during a recession. I have no idea what that is, but it's my understanding that we're in one."

Rachel looked enthralled with the drivel Jesse was spouting off about. And her next words just made it even clearer to Mercedes how naïve Rachel could be as she looked over at them and said, "He's _so smart_. I don't see how he flunked out of college."

Mercedes and Sam traded incredulous looks which earned a confused expression from Rachel. How could one person be so utterly oblivious?

"So I was thinking—what are the two things I'm great at?" Jesse continued, "Show choir and destroying the competition—so what if I open up a dance studio and work as a consultant for show choirs looking for an extra edge."

Mercedes was skeptical. He was going to run a consulting studio from Lima, Ohio? There were like four show choirs within two hundred miles. That wouldn't create enough profit to live off of—unless he charged exorbitant prices for his consultation work.

"Are there enough show choirs around for you to stay in business?" she asked—her tone doubtful; and Rachel being the opportunistic nut ball that she is—immediately piped up.

"Of course there is. That's _perfect_," she said. If this had been a cartoon moment—Rachel would've had stars and hearts coming out of her eyes. "You could be like the show choir whisperer! We could get Mr. Schue to hire you in a minute and that's how we could be Vocal Adr—"Her passionate speech was interrupted by Quinn and Finn's sudden appearance at their table.

"Hi guys! You look amazing!" Quinn gushed with the fakest smile on her face that Mercedes had ever seen. She felt sorry for her friend. Mercedes didn't know what the hell was going on with Quinn, but whatever it was—it obviously wasn't working out the way she wanted it to. "And don't forget to vote Hudson-Fabray tonight."

Finn looked mutinous as he said, "Hey Jesse, what did you order? Scrambled eggs? I know you usually like them served on people's heads."

Mercedes and Sam traded annoyed looks. She had seen the shame and embarrassment on Rachel's face when Finn spoke. This whole love web bullshit was getting old—_correction_ it had been old since last year when it first started. She wished they would just make up their damn minds already.

"Quinn, you look stunning—the ghost of Grace Kelly," Jesse said with a sarcastic smile on his face, "When you get tired of your boyfriend here stomping all over your pretty little feet all night, I'd be more than happy to cut in."

_Damn it all to hell._ They were not going to ruin prom for her or for Sam. Shit had gone down the past couple of weeks and she was determined to have some fun tonight—and make sure that Sam did too. Rachel's love problems could wait for another day.

"Okay stop it, you guys," Mercedes stated before the pissing contest could continue. "You're totally ruining the prom mojo. Quinn you look hot. Finn you look handsome. Love you guys, but _get lost_. We'll see you there." They looked surprised at her words, but she just shooed them away with a smile on her face.

When they were gone, Mercedes turned to face her table mates and said, "_Alright,_ this is gonna be off the hook!"

Sam thumped the table top with his fists and asked, "Who's ready for some prom?"

"I am!" Mercedes said, "but can we eat first?"

Laughter echoed around the table and soon enough, dinner was ordered and eaten. Jokes were told. Song choices were mentioned and forty minutes later they were ready to head out.

"_To prom_!" Sam said as he raised his plastic glass. They all followed and toasted.

Cheers went up as they laughed together and walked out of the restaurant towards McKinley High. It was time for the night of their lives.

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><p><strong>REVIEW! I love hearing your thoughts! Until next time! :D<strong>


	14. Dancin' In the Dark

**DISCLAIMER: On first chapter.**

****I received a message letting me know that I've been using "hazel" instead of "brown" for Mercedes' eye color. I want to apologize for that! I'm so used to describing my own eyes as hazel that I let it slip into my writing. I didn't even pay attention to it while I was editing, because I'm so used to it. LOL. I apologize if I offended anyone! It wasn't my intention. My whole family had hazel eyes and I was used to using that to describe things. Sorry about that! Most of the chapters, Mercedes does have brown eyes. I'm fixing it now though. :D****

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><p><strong>April 30, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:07PM**

Watching the goofy grin appear on Sam's face as he sang made Mercedes laugh—he was trying so hard to be sexy that it was adorable and the beat of the song was invigorating. She couldn't resist raising her arms and dancing in her chair.

She was surprised when four pairs of hands hauled her out of chair. Mercedes glanced over to see Rachel grinning at her on her right side and Brittany busting a move on her left. The blonde and brunette girls pushed Mercedes forward through the gyrating crowd until they were right in front of the stage.

Sam smiled in their direction as his solo began. He danced the mike towards Puck who was grooving on his other side. "_**Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday. Today it is Friday, Friday. We, we, we so excited. We so excited. We gonna have a ball today. Tomorrow is Saturday and Sunday comes afterwards. I don't want this weekend to end. **_"

Mercedes couldn't help but get into the song after that. She screamed along with the other girls as Artie started rapping on stage. Rachel danced and clapped alongside Mercedes. She snorted when Sam tried to do a body roll on stage and just ended up looking as adorably awkward as ever, but she could see that he was having a blast.

Brittany was tearing up the dance floor—her green and orange dress swishing around her as she popped and locked. Mercedes let herself get lost in the music as Rachel grabbed her hands and they started dancing together.

When the song ended, there was a chorus of screams from the crowd—Rachel, Mercedes and Brittany were some of the loudest. Mercedes couldn't help but laugh when Brittany threw her fist into the air and screamed, "Best prom ever!"

* * *

><p><strong>7:21 PM<strong>

The beat was pounding when Brittany started moving—her hips swinging from side to side as she worked the stage like a pro. Mercedes was so proud of her.

"_**Hot and dangerous**_," the blonde voiced just as Mercedes felt two bodies crash into her back. Almost bowled over by the force, Mercedes let out a laugh as she was hugged by Quinn and Tina.

Tina was beaming when she yelled over the music, "Did you see the crowd's reaction? They loved it!"

It had been a long time since McKinley High had any sort of respect for a Glee club, but the fact that the response to their first performance was good—seemed especially uplifting to the club members considering they had been talked down to and ridiculed since show choir started making its comeback. Tina had a good reason to celebrate—maybe McKinley was starting to be more accepting.

"It was amazing!" Mercedes agreed, "The guys did a great job with that song."

"I know," Quinn commented—a huge smile on her face. "It was the perfect opening number—got everybody ready to part-tay!" She fist-pumped making Mercedes laugh at the girl's attempt to be hip and cool.

"_**Tonight we're going har-har-har-har-har-hard**_!" Quinn and Tina sang along with Brittany suddenly—making Mercedes smile.

"Well let's get our dance on!" Mercedes declared and Tina cheered before she started dancing. Quinn shimmied next to Mercedes as the diva broke it down on the dance floor. Rachel joined their dancing cluster soon enough and the party really started.

* * *

><p><strong>7:29 PM<strong>

Sam—hot and sweaty from his performance—wandered over to the punch bowl. He skirted around a hawk-eyed Sue and grabbed a cup. He couldn't help bobbing his head to the music as he drunk his punch. He wondered where Rachel and Mercedes were—he wasn't sure if they were still in front of the stage or not. He'd left in a bit of a rush—the thirst had begged to be quenched.

Tossing his now empty cup into the trash bin, Sam was about to go hunt the two girls down when he spotted Finn leaning awkwardly against the wall. The dude didn't look like he knew what to do with himself now that Quinn wasn't attached to his arm and turning them into living propaganda for prom queen and king.

Sam briefly considered just leaving the guy on his own, but his conscience got to him. With a sigh, Sam walked over to Finn and leaned against the wall beside him.

Finn looked surprised to see him there. Sam didn't blame him. They weren't exactly friends.

He and Finn were still competition—athletic wise anyway—and Finn still hadn't gotten over the fact that Sam had replaced him as quarterback on the team. Sam wasn't pleased with Finn because it had been his call that caused him a shoulder injury. It really didn't help that Quinn had cheated on Sam with Finn.

But Sam had been raised to be polite, and he wouldn't leave someone hanging like that. Especially not when they looked as pathetic as Finn did at the moment.

"What's up, man?" he asked.

"Not much," Finn answered, "Quinn went to dance with Tina and Mercedes—and I suck at dancing so I decided to sit this one out." There was a short uncomfortable silence before Finn spoke up again, "You were really awesome up there, dude."

"Thanks," Sam replied honestly. "And don't feel too bad. I have two dates and I'm still alone." Sam said in an attempt to make Finn feel better about his disastrous dancing skills. Sam knew that he would never be Michael Jackson, but he was a damn sight better than Finn—which was saying something.

Finn gave him a half-hearted smile in return. Sam looked away from the tall boy and had to smirk when he spotted Mercedes, Rachel, Quinn, and Tina getting down on the dance floor.

"I had no idea that Tina could pop that hard!" he blurted before he had time to think about what he was saying. Finn started laughing.

"She looks like she might sprain something if she doesn't slow down," Finn replied causing Sam to grin.

Sam stared as Mercedes swiveled her hips and showed off some of her best dance moves. Quinn was working it pretty hard. He had never seen her so relaxed before. She was usually so uptight about everything but she was dancing her heart out and making it known that the girl had some rhythm in those small hips.

Sam saw Jesse sneak up behind Rachel, and he also saw Finn's expression darken.

"Dude, you should leave _that_ alone," Sam warned him and Finn didn't even glance in his direction.

"He treated her like shit, Sam," Finn spat, "And you think I'm going to be okay with that?"

"No," Sam replied causing Finn to look at him in confusion. "I'm just saying that you have a girlfriend and you should focus on her—not on Rachel. She's not your business anymore."

"She's still my friend," Finn said and Sam shook his head. Why didn't Finn understand that it wasn't the same? Especially on a night like tonight—Finn needed to be with Quinn, but Sam could tell that his mind was on Rachel.

And Sam may not be the smoothest guy on the planet—okay, he had absolutely no game whatsoever—but even he knew that this could turn into one giant cluster-fuck if Finn didn't get his act together.

"Doesn't matter," he told Finn, "Rachel can handle herself and if she can't then we'll get involved. You shouldn't be paying attention to her, right now. Quinn should be your focus tonight—not your _ex-girlfriend_ Rachel."

Finn looked obstinate and Sam had never wanted to punch him more than he did in that moment. By force of will, Sam calmed himself and said, "I'll catch you later, Finn." The blond stood up and made his way to the restroom—he needed a break from all the love drama; it was giving him a headache.

* * *

><p><strong>7:47PM <strong>

Seeing Mercedes sitting at their table, idly picking at her corsage made his heart skip a beat. She looked so sad, but Sam could tell that she was trying to hide it. Making a snap decision, Sam strode towards their table—Rachel's words bouncing around in his head.

He knew himself well enough to be nervous. Sam was not a connoisseur of charming. He stuttered and made cheesy comments that somehow endeared people to him. But this was one situation that he couldn't screw up. He wanted to get this moment right for her—she deserved it. Taking a deep breath as he neared their table, he cleared his throat softly.

Mercedes' brown eyes looked up at him and Sam couldn't stop the immediate blush that spread across his cheeks. He was thankful for the dim lighting, because he knew that his face was bright pink.

"You look beautiful, Mercedes," Sam told her honestly. When he had first seen her this evening—he thought she looked a lot like princess Tiana; only better because it was _Mercedes _and not an animated Disney character.

Wow, it was official—he hung out with his little sister way too much.

Mercedes was staring up at him in shock. He could see the disbelief in her gaze, but he also saw the burgeoning hope—even though she was trying to tamp it down. Stretching a hand towards her and giving her a lopsided grin, Sam asked, "Would you like to dance?"

She seemed to freeze in her seat—her eyes flitting between Sam's hand and his eyes. She was clearly struggling to believe that this was happening. Seeing the desire to have this moment in her eyes was enough to make Sam hold his ground. She needed this.

And when Mercedes placed her hand in his and replied, "I would love to." Sam couldn't help the cheek-splitting grin that spread across his face as he pulled her from her seat. He tugged her closer and Mercedes' hands fell softly onto his shoulders as he dropped his hands to her waist.

Being this close to her, he could see the unshed tears in her eyes. She looked at him with such gratitude and joy that Sam felt like he had won the Olympics. She felt so different in his embrace. Something he had never paid much attention to. Her scent—lilies and cinnamon—was sweeping around them as they danced in a circle.

Without really acknowledging what he was doing—Sam pulled her closer; until she was pressed gently against him. Mercedes beamed up at him, before placing her head on his shoulder. Sam felt his blush reappear, but his huge grin just widened. He rested his head atop hers and he loved the feel of her curls against his cheek.

"Thank you, Sam," Mercedes whispered and Sam squeezed her waist in silent acknowledgement.

For a moment, Sam thought he'd never want to let go of this girl. That was a shock to his system, and he stumbled over his next step. Mercedes laughed softly as they straightened and Sam's blush was fierce.

"Smooth, Blondie," she teased and Sam gave her a small laugh in response.

"I hope I don't step on you too much," he told her. Sam wasn't the best dancer, but he was usually alright with slow dancing. Unless he had thoughts about never letting go of his friend and then freaked himself out.

"You're doing perfect, Sam," she replied and Sam couldn't help but grin at her kindness. She was the first girl to dance with him and not call him a dork. This girl just kept getting more and more amazing.

No wonder he didn't want to let her go.

* * *

><p><strong>8:02PM <strong>

A couple of minutes after Rachel's song, Sam and Mercedes were shocked to see Santana setting up onstage. They speculated about which song she would sing and when the jazzy tone started pouring from the band members' instruments—Mercedes couldn't control her happiness.

Sam was standing right next to her—their shoulders touching and he looked down at her in confused amusement when she let out a small squeal.

"What's up?" Sam asked over the music. Mercedes couldn't help but grab his arm in excitement.

"You don't recognize this song?" she questioned—her tone disbelieving and Sam shook his head. "Boy, this is the_ good_ stuff right here." She told him, "I'm going to have to teach you a little something about music, Blondie."

"Who is it?"

"It's Joss Stone's 'Some Kind of Wonderful'," she replied, "I love her voice. Gives me chills."

Sam looked intrigued as Santana started singing, "_**I don't need a whole lotta money. I don't need a big, fine car**__**. **__**I got everything that a girl could want**__**. **__**I got more than I could ask for**__**.**_" The Latina's raspy voice sounded incredible with the tone of the song, and Mercedes couldn't stop herself from dancing in her spot next to Sam.

She looked at him and asked, "Dance with me?" Sam nodded hesitantly.

"I don't know how to dance to this," he admitted—his cheeks turning red and Mercedes just smiled at him.

"Don't worry," she replied, "It's jazz. That's all about improvising. I'll show you, okay?" He agreed with a nod of his head and Mercedes held out her hands to him.

Sam grabbed them and she used his hands as a way to move his body to the beat. "_**I don't have to run around.**__**I don't have to stay out all night**__**. **__**Cause I got a sweet, sweet loving man**__** a**__**nd he knows just how to treat me right.**__**See, my baby, he's alright.**__**See, my baby, we're so tight.**_" Santana was tearing that song up—girl was mean sometimes, but she could sing like nobody's business.

Sam finally caught the rhythm of the song with Mercedes leading him, but when she placed his hands on her swaying hips—he lost it. Mercedes noticed immediately, but seeing the brightness of his eyes was too adorable for her to even try and crush his mood.

"_**Don't you know he is some kind of wonderful**__**? **__**Yes, he is**__**. **__**He's some kind of wonderful**__**. **__**Don't you know he is some kind of wonderful**_," Santana sang and Mercedes really got into the song. She moved her hips to the beat and Sam tried to copy her. It was so cute to see him focus so hard on dancing with her.

Mercedes was taken aback when Sam abruptly grabbed her hands and twirled her around. She laughed as he did a slow motion Carlton. "_**Let me tell you one more thing**__**. **__**Now, when he holds me in his arms**__**; **__**he sets my soul on fire**__**. **__**And, ooh, when my baby kisses me,**__**my heart becomes filled with desire**_," Santana voiced as she danced on stage—rocking her body back and forth and twisting her hips.

Sam was really getting into the dance, and even though he was off beat—Mercedes enjoyed it when he pulled out some swing spins and swung her around into his arms.

"_**When he wraps his loving arms around me**__**; h**__**e almost drives me out of my mind**__**. **__**I get these funny little feelings inside of me**__**. **__**Chills run up and down my spine**__**. **__**My baby, he's alright**__**. **__**Me and my baby we're so tight.**_" They danced—her back to his chest and his hands on her hips. Sam led her in a clumsy two-step that had Mercedes cracking up, but it was so much fun.

They did a crazy number of twists and twirls and hip movements that were completely off-beat and didn't fit the song at all, but Mercedes had never enjoyed herself so much. Sam was just too cute.

She had to give him credit—he had some moves—now if they could only get them to go with the music. And she was pretty sure that he knew he wasn't in rhythm, but Sam was having too much fun to care. When the song ended, Mercedes cheered and Sam clapped loudly from beside her.

"Nice dancing," she commented in amusement and Sam blushed.

"I figured I might as well enjoy it while we were out here," he confessed and she gave him a confused look. Sam glanced at her and said, "I danced for you. I know that I suck at anything other than slow dancing."

The smile Mercedes sent Sam could've replaced the sun. He blushed in response and Mercedes giggled. She knew that he secretly loved to dance—she wasn't an idiot. He just didn't do it in public often because he wasn't the smoothest dancer. The fact that he went all out for her made her heart swell with affection—Sam Evans was the best prom date ever.

* * *

><p><strong>8:11PM <strong>

Blaine was tearing that stage up. The music was retro and pounding and the whole crowd was gettin' down on the dance floor.

"_**You are the girl that I've been dreaming of**_," The curly haired Warbler sang, "_**Ever since I was a little girl.**__**You are the girl that I've been dreaming of ever since I was a little girl.**_" And Sam and Mercedes were getting crazy on the dance floor. Sam did a wave that had his eyes level with Mercedes waist and she laughed at him as she shimmied forward and then leaned back.

"_**One!"**_ He and Mercedes yelled with the music and made a face at each other.

"_**I'm biting my tongue,"**_ Blaine voiced and Sam did the Egyptian. Mercedes laughed and shook her finger at him before she backed it up like it was hot.

"_**Two!**__**He's kissing on you!**__**Three!**__**Oh, why can't you see?"**_ Blaine sang and the couple joined in on the next line, "_**One! Two! Three! Four!**_" Sam danced beside her as she pulled out the lasso and he laughed while doing a disco move.

"_**Word's on the streets and it's on the news:**__**I'm not gonna teach him how to dance with you**__**. **__**He's got two left feet and he bites my moves**__**. **__**I'm not gonna teach him how to dance, dance, dance, dance!**_" Sam was popping and locking next to Mercedes, but it was so off that Mercedes was practically bursting a gut laughing at him.

"_**The second I do, I know we're gonna be through**__**. **__**I'm not gonna teach him how to dance with you**__**. **__**He don't suspect a thing, I wish he'd get a clue**__**. **__**I'm not gonna teach him how to dance, dance, dance, dance!**_" When Mercedes pulled out the robot, Sam let out a loud cheer and joined her. They cracked up when Mercedes tried to do the robot and fist pump at the same time.

"_**You are the girl that I've been dreaming of**__** e**__**ver since I was a little girl**__**. **__**You are the girl that I've been dreaming of**__** e**__**ver since, ever since**_—"Sam froze when Mercedes did the sprinkler.

_This girl was so awesome! _He rejoined their mad mix of dances when he lifted his leg and did the funky chicken.

Mercedes started laughing so hard—she was almost crying. Their fun was momentarily interrupted as Finn and Jesse started fighting. Sue pulled them apart and sent them packing.

As the furious duo passed the dancing couple, Sam frowned in their direction. He really wished Finn would've taken his advice earlier. Mercedes touched his arm and shrugged up at him. He shook his thoughts off—Finn's drama was not going to ruin his prom night.

As Blaine continued performing, Mercedes and Sam got crazier and weirder, and by the end of the song—they were giggling too hard to do anything other than lean against each other and laugh. They couldn't even meet each others' eyes without bursting into laughter.

"I cannot believe that you did the funky chicken!" Mercedes told Sam.

"Me?" he responded, "I can't believe that you did the sprinkler."

Mercedes snorted and Sam couldn't help but chuckle. "Come on Piglet, let's get some punch."

Sam ran away from Mercedes when she swung at his arm. She chased after the laughing blond as he high-tailed it toward the unguarded punch table.

* * *

><p><strong>8:27PM <strong>

Relaxing at their empty table, Mercedes watched as Quinn sang, "_**Can you see me?**__**Cause I'm right here**__**. **__**Can you listen?**__**Cause I've been trying to make you notice**__**what it would mean to me**__**to feel like somebody**__**. **__**We've been on our way to nowhere**__**. **__**Trying so hard to get there.**_"

Mercedes felt her heart clench. She missed the closeness that she and Quinn had once shared. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out what had happened to her almost sister. Last Spring, she had been so different—angry, yes, but more mature, definitely. What had happened during those summer months evaded Mercedes.

Singing up there right now, Quinn sounded heartbroken and desperate for something. Mercedes' thoughts were interrupted by Sam returning with a bottle of water for Mercedes and a glass of punch for himself. He sat down next to her, but his eyes were on Quinn.

"_**And I say**__**Oh!**__**We're gonna let it show!**__**We're gonna just let go of everything**__** h**__**olding back our dreams**__**and try**__** t**__**o make it come alive**_," Quinn voiced—her tone strong and vulnerable at the same time. "_**C'mon let it shine so they can see**__**; **__**We were meant to be**__**—**__**Somebody!**__**Somebody, yeah; somehow**__**, s**__**omeday**__**, s**__**omeway**__**, s**__**omebody**_."

Mercedes was captivated by Quinn up there.

"She's crying," Sam said quietly and Mercedes squinted. And he was right—she could make out the tear streaks glimmering under the stage lights.

It took a hell of a lot to make Quinn Fabray cry—especially in front of an audience. Mercedes wondered what had happened. She looked over at Sam and she saw him frowning.

"_**I'm so tired**__** o**__**f being invisible**__** b**__**ut I feel it, yeah**__**. **__**Like a fire below the surface**__** t**__**rying to set me free**__**. **__**Burning inside of me**__** c**__**ause were standing on the edge now**__**. **__**It's a long way down**__**. **__**We will walk out of this darkness**__**. **__**Feel the spotlight glowing like a yellow sun**__**. **__**Ohohohohoh. And when we fall we fall together**__** t**__**ill we get back up and we will rise as one**__**. **__**Ohohohohoh!**_**"** Quinn sang—her voice rough with emotion and Mercedes felt her chest tighten.

She was worried not only for her old friend but for Sam. The thought of him falling in love with Quinn after all she had done to him just didn't sit well with her. In fact, imagining something like that made her stomach churn unpleasantly.

The way Sam was staring at his ex-girlfriend—she couldn't decipher if it was friendly concern or more. And even if it was more—she couldn't compete with blonde, green-eyed and beautiful.

They looked like a match made in heaven—their features complimentary to each other. But, Sam was so different from Quinn—or at least that was what she told herself.

Standing up abruptly attracted Sam's attention and he looked at her confused. "I'm going to go get warmed up," she told him, "I perform next." She walked away—leaving Sam blinking after her in bemusement and hurt.

* * *

><p><strong>8:48PM <strong>

He had no idea what the hell had happened back there. All he knew was that Mercedes had suddenly flipped from happy to cold as ice. She had never done that before—Sam didn't even know she could, but he figured that she was a girl and girls had crazy mood swings sometimes.

But none of it made any sense. They had been sitting together—watching Quinn perform when he'd pointed out that she was crying onstage and—the thought of what had probably happened hit Sam like a ton of bricks.

_Why the hell did Quinn manage to touch and potentially destroy everything in his life?_

Mercedes probably thought that he wanted the blonde girl back. And that was the farthest thing from the truth like_ ever_. He was happy with being friends with Quinn and had no desire to go back to a romantic relationship.

She attracted drama like moths were drawn to a fire. He was not created to handle that kind of high maintenance. They had dated for three months—he knew some of her quirks. Her lips would tremble and her eyebrow would twitch every time she was crying or about to start crying. He had learned that one quickly.

He would have to clear that up with his friend when she got offstage, but he wasn't exactly sure why she was so upset about it. Maybe she was worried about him being cheated on again by the blonde girl? Or she was angry that he would even consider going back to a girl that had hurt him so much the first time around.

Could she be—_jealous_? The thought made Sam's stomach get all funny and a grin twitched at the corners of his mouth. Mercedes would never in a million years be jealous of Quinn, would she? Sam shrugged it off—the only way to find out would be to talk to her about it.

As he watched her shake her hips and dance around on stage with Lauren—he couldn't help but clap along to "Shoulda Let You Go" by Keyshia Cole. She did an awesome job performing and having Lauren replace Missy Elliot in the rapping portion was pure genius.

Puck obviously liked it because he was bouncing up and down in front of the stage.

Sam laughed his butt off at the sight. _His friend was crazy in love. _

* * *

><p><strong>10:04PM <strong>

Mercedes was still pissed over the Prom Queen ordeal. Sam had been forced to practically drag her from the room to stop her from wailing on everybody in the room when Kurt's name had been announced. Once he'd gotten them inside an empty classroom, she had cursed up a storm about how Figgins was incompetent as a principal and how all the students were full of shit—some of the things she'd said impressed Sam. It took him almost ten minutes to talk her down from her fury—even though he was just as angry about it. Figgins should've done something to change that. But, Kurt had shown the students that he wasn't going to run away this time.

The whole event had threatened to spoil their night—and he could tell that it was still bothering her as they walked down the street. Rachel had caught a ride with Artie and his mother. Mercedes decided to walk with him back to _Breadstix_ because his dad would pick him up there and her car was there anyway.

She hadn't said anything since they were left alone. She just walked along the sidewalk—her eyes on the ground and her arms crossed.

They had only moved forward a couple of more feet, before Sam lost his patience. He sped up and cut her off—making her crash into his chest with a startled gasp.

"What the hell, Sam?" she demanded once she righted herself. Sam stared down at her.

"Cede," he said, "Kurt is _fine_."

She looked away from him instantly. "I know that."

"Then why are you so mad still?" he inquired. Mercedes continued to avoid his eyes.

"Mercedes," Sam's voice was hard. He wanted an answer and he wanted one now. Ever since Quinn had sung she had been acting off.

"It's nothing, Sam," she sighed. "I'm just being dumb—that's all." She tried to sidestep him, but Sam cut her off again.

"Bullshit," he told her bluntly and Mercedes blinked at him in surprise. "Do we really have to go through this friendship thing again?"

Mercedes looked torn between infuriation, annoyance, and happiness. Sam didn't back down from her glare though and she finally gave in. "I'm just—"Sam listened as she struggled for words, "I'm so mad that they can never accept people as they are. Kurt has done nothing wrong, but he's treated like shit for being different?"

He already knew she was pissed about that, but he could tell that there was more. She just didn't want to say it out loud.

"_And_?" Sam urged and Mercedes' eyes flashed in anger.

"_And what_, Sam?" she bit out, "What? You want me to tell you that I was jealous about you staring at Quinn? You want me to tell you that I really don't want you to get back with her? Is that what you want? Because if it is—too bad, because _I'm not telling you_." Her rant took him by surprise, but her words were like a blast to the face.

Sam wanted to say that she just did tell him, but he understood what she was doing—she was admitting how she felt while pretending like she wasn't saying something that could change their friendship forever.

At a loss for words, he stared at her for a long moment—long enough for Mercedes' expression to crumble and for her to storm around his immobile form.

So she did feel something other than friendship. That much was obvious. Now the problem was he didn't know what to do with that revelation. He had feelings for Mercedes, sure, but he had never thought of her in any sort of romantic capacity until tonight—especially right now.

He had the answer to his question, but he had no response. What do you say to someone _not telling_ you their feelings? Mercedes didn't even sound like she knew what to make of her emotions. But Sam had to say something—he wasn't willing to let her walk away from him and their friendship. She meant far too much for him to give up just like that.

So Sam chased after her. He caught up with her about a block away from _Breadstix_.

_Damn, that girl could walk fast_.

"Mercedes!" he called and she started walking faster. "Please wait!" he begged and the chocolate skinned diva stopped in her tracks—waiting for him to catch up to her.

She looked at him harshly and Sam gulped down his fear. He had seen Mercedes hurt and angry before, but it had never been directed at him. Her being mad at him did strange things to his stomach—it felt like it was tied in knots.

"What do you want now?" she asked and he stepped closer to her.

"I'm sorry for making you tell me that," he replied. Mercedes shook her head at him.

"Are you sorry for forcing something out of me that I didn't want to tell? Or are you sorry that what I had to say was_ disgusting_ for you to hear?" she snapped and Sam paled.

"_No_!" he practically shouted. "Nothing like that—I just froze."

"All you had to say was that you don't feel the same way—"

"I _don't know_ how I feel, Mercy," Sam replied, "I hadn't even thought of you that way until tonight—"The hurt expression on her face made Sam snap his mouth shut. Mercedes looked like she was about to burst into tears from that admission and Sam could've slapped himself. He hadn't meant that at all the way it probably sounded to her.

"Sam," she whispered, "Can you just—leave me alone, _please_?"

"No," he said, "Not until you let me explain." Mercedes wouldn't look at him and her avoidance hurt him more than he would like to admit. "Look, I'm not the most gifted speaker and I have no idea what to say, but I'm _not _doing this to hurt you. _You have to believe me_."

Sam would get on his knees and beg to make her understand that.

He just didn't know how he was feeling or why he was feeling whatever it was that he felt. Nothing was making sense, and that terrified him because he _couldn't lose_ Mercedes. Her friendship meant the world to him.

"I've always thought you were beautiful and I love talking to you. You make me laugh and you teach me things and you don't make fun of me for being the giant dork that I am. I just—I don't know what I'm feeling right now. Dancing with you tonight—that was the first time I've ever considered you in a romantic light and I won't lie—it was _amazing_."

Sam looked at Mercedes—noticing that her hair had come loose in her mad rush to escape his presence. Her dark curls were tumbling across her face and shoulders and her brown eyes were watering. She looked so pained and beautiful that Sam's heart clenched. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her pain.

"This whole night was amazing." He told her, "And I'm really grateful for it. I—can you give me time to figure this all out? I wish that I could give you a better answer than that, but I honestly, don't know. You mean a lot to me, Cede. I just want my answer to be the right one—for _both of us_."

Sam couldn't help but stare as the expression on Mercedes' face softened. She looked beyond beautiful—her curls spread across her shoulders and her brown eyes glittering under the street lamp. He didn't know what he would do if she just walked away from him.

She had come into his life and changed his perspective. Mercedes had shown him what true friendship was and why it was so important. No one had ever treated him with such patience and compassion and _love_ before.

She accepted his quirks without complaint and she made him feel good about himself—he didn't feel like a baby for crying around her or for being insecure.

He had dated plenty and he had never found the amount of acceptance that Mercedes offered him without wanting anything in return. She was so smart and talented and gorgeous. He could see her staring at him in confusion, but Sam didn't have words.

He couldn't be falling for Mercedes could he? There were so many feelings there that he didn't know what was what.

Was this coming from how grateful he was to her for everything she'd done for him and his family? Or was this real? Was he really getting overwhelmed because he wanted to be with her?

Did he want to kiss her? Hold her? Hold her hand? _What was this?_ Sam's thoughts were flying a mile a minute and none of them were really making much sense. Looking into Mercedes' worried brown eyes, Sam took a chance.

He leaned forward and pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek. Her skin was so soft and warm and it smelled like lilies and cinnamon and Sam wasn't sure if the clenching in his stomach was good or not. He lingered for far longer than was strictly platonic and when he pulled away—their eyes met.

The tingling that swept through Sam's body chilled him to the bone. Her brown eyes were full of surprise and _hope_—he could see it clearly, but it was hidden behind a stout refusal to believe anything without outright declaration. And unfortunately, Sam was nowhere near ready to confess feelings that he wasn't even sure were real.

His heart pounding in his chest; he raised a hand and placed it on the side of her face—tracing the soft skin with the pads of his fingers. Mercedes let out a shaky breath and those beautiful brown eyes closed.

The urge to kiss her was strong. Everything inside him wanted to lean forward and capture those soft lips with his and kiss her until neither of them could breathe, but Sam wouldn't risk their friendship for something that may not be real.

Mercedes deserved more than that. She deserved to have someone's whole heart—to have their certainty. And he couldn't give that to her at the moment. Too much was unclear right now.

Sam removed his hand from her face and pulled her into a hug.

Mercedes hugged him back tightly and Sam inhaled her scent once more. She felt so different in his arms—so warm and comforting. He hesitated in letting her go, but he had to. Stepping away from her had never been so difficult.

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment before Mercedes said, "Goodnight, Sam."

He smiled at her softly and she returned it. "Goodnight, Mercedes," he replied. She touched his arm once before heading back to her BMW. Sam watched as she climbed inside and started the vehicle. He stared at the spot that her truck had been parked long after she had driven away.

Oh yeah, his feelings for Mercedes Jones had definitely changed.

Now he had to figure out if they were real or not, because he'd be damned if he hurt her by rushing into something like he'd done with Quinn and Santana.


	15. Hold Me While I'm Here

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter.**

**Before you read this-just know; Not everything is as it seems. Happy reading!**

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><p><strong>May 2, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**Lima Bean Café **

**Lima, Ohio**

**9:03AM**

"So this is my more modernized option," Jeffrey stated as he passed Lynn a blueprint across the table. Taking a sip of her chai latte, she pulled it towards her and peered at it. Jeff took a moment to take a drink of his black coffee with two sugars. What could he say? He was a man of simple tastes.

Lynn was looking over the design plan with an intensity that shouldn't have surprised Jeff. He was always taken aback by how focused she could be for such an easy going woman. He watched her nervously. If she didn't like his next ones—that would make twelve rejected options and Jeff would rather hide under a rock than face that type of humiliation.

She had a concept for this restaurant and she would accept nothing less than perfection. He admired that about her, but he was sort of terrified too. He didn't want to let her down.

Lynn was momentarily interrupted when the barista came over with her blueberry muffin. He watched as she looked up from the blueprint—her dark curls swishing underneath her burnt orange beanie. She had dressed simply today; wearing a white tank top that molded to her curves and a pair of dark purple skinny jeans and silver gladiator sandals.

Her signature pearl earrings were the only pieces of jewelry she had on. Jeff couldn't decide if he should be ashamed of himself for checking out his boss, but he was a guy—and guys always knew when they were in the presence of beautiful women; especially beautiful, intelligent, and funny women.

His thoughts drifted as Lynn returned to studying the blueprint, but he was brought back to reality quickly when a blonde woman walked into the café. Her back was to him—but he could see the blonde waves falling down her to her hips and her body was similar to Elizabeth's. His heart started pounding.

_Had she come back?_ Maybe she was looking for him in the café?

Jeff's thoughts were going crazy. He didn't notice his breathing quicken, but Lynn did. And it was only when she threw a piece of muffin at him across the table—that he snapped out of his panicked daze.

"Jeffrey?" Lynn asked, "Are you alright?"

Jeff couldn't speak. He heard her question, but he didn't take his eyes off the blonde woman now at the counter. He willed her to turn around. It was like a growing mantra in his head. And when she finally did, his heart stopped and he felt as though his stomach had dropped to his toes.

_It wasn't her. _

She looked nothing like Elizabeth did. Her face was too long, her lips too thin, and her eyes were brown—not the bright blue he had gazed into with love for almost twenty years.

Jeff slumped back into his chair—feeling the adrenaline drain from his system. The sudden disappearance of his anxiety left him pale and shaking. He couldn't meet Lynn's eyes—he could feel her worry from across the table.

"Jeff?" she inquired and he looked up at her. Her hazel eyes were soft and filled with concern. There was a frown on her face and Jeff didn't like it. "What just happened?"

He didn't want to answer her, but he knew that he had freaked her out momentarily. So—against all of his instincts—he answered, "I thought I saw my wife."

Her eyebrows rose on her head, before they furrowed. She seemed to study him for a few moments. Jeff didn't say anything else while she stared at him, but he felt her gaze acutely.

Lynn shifted in her chair, before she said anything. "You miss her, don't you?" It was meant to be a question, but Jeff heard the statement in her tone. He closed his eyes in response.

"It's not that I miss _her,"_ he admitted sadly, "It's more that I miss the familiarity." He scrubbed a hand over his face as he placed his coffee down onto the table. "I was used to being with her. She's all I've known for years. When I asked her to marry me, I thought, 'This is right. This is what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm in love, so this has to work.' But looking back, I don't know if that was the right decision."

Lynn didn't say anything and Jeff couldn't stop himself from talking. "I was twenty five and stupid. I'd had my heartbroken by my high school sweetheart and my first fiancée before I met Elizabeth. And she was there when I needed some light in my life. She introduced me to a whole different world—and it was amazing. We were _good _together," Jeff said softly—before he let out a bitter chuckle.

"You know," he said—his heart was in his throat. The animosity and rage rose like bile in his stomach. "She cheated on me back in Tennessee." The slight widening of Lynn's eyes vindicated him. "She told me that she'd needed something different for a moment. We had lived too much of the _same_ for years and she just had to get away for a little while."

He had kept that to himself for almost a year now. For twelve months, he watched the steady disintegration of his twenty year marriage. "Why?" Lynn breathed—her voice was tinged with sadness.

"Honestly," Jeff said, "I think she resented me. Elizabeth—when she met me she wanted to be an actress and she wanted to study human rights. Travel the world, you know? But she gave it up for me to finish my degree in architecture. And the sad thing is, I told her to go—that I would wait for her. She told me that she'd marry me now or she never would."

"Do the kids know?" Lynn asked as she placed her hand atop his. Jeff couldn't help but squeeze her hand—thankful for the support she was offering. He shook his head at her question.

"We decided not to tell them," Jeff replied. "It was the main reason we moved to Lima. I had to get her away from him; we both did, but she wasn't the same after everything. I could barely look at her—much less _touch_ her knowing that some other man had destroyed the sanctity of our marriage." Jeff's chest felt tight and he could hear the gruffness in his voice. "It hurt too much to even think that she'd willingly betray me like that—that she would be so selfish and just risk everything—risk _hurting our kids_."

Jeff blinked furiously. "I got the promotion the week before, but I had planned on turning it down. After I found out about the affair though—I couldn't stay in that town. And when we got here—the fights started."

She had blamed him for every little thing that went wrong. And he meant everything—from her clothes being accidently turned pink to Sam getting a dislocated shoulder. Their kids feeling homesick and how she missed living close to all of their family.

And damn it all, the guilt brought him to tears sometimes.

She'd point out how miserable the kids were for being uprooted from the town they'd lived in their whole lives. Every bill that was late and for the balance of their bank accounts—it was his entire fault.

When she lost her job, she just turned bitter.

Every chance she got—it was ridicule him for this; mock him for that. Jeff's confidence had taken a severe beating. Some days, he was surprised that he'd even got out of bed. He'd never been more thankful for the kids being on a different floor in their old home.

That was the only thing he'd asked of her—to never degrade him in front of the children.

He thanked God everyday that they hadn't had to go through the verbal abuse that she took every chance to throw at him. He'd rather be murdered before he allowed someone to hurt his kids even if that meant he had to fight his own wife.

Jeff wasn't sure he'd done that great of a job anyway. Her ignoring them had done quite enough damage—and he'd been so focused on protecting them from her that he hadn't been there when they needed him.

And when he lost his job—everything just went straight to hell. And he told Lynn as much.

"I feel like a horrible father," he choked out—tears clogging his throat. Lynn's fingers gripped his. "I tried so hard to do everything and I completely forgot about the most important thing—_them_. They practically took care of themselves for the past year. I don't even know my son anymore."

Thinking of the relationship he used to share with Sam was heartbreaking for Jeff. They had done everything together. He missed his weekly fishing trips with Sam. He missed their Thursday night baseball games. He longed for the homemade Sundaes during football games. Jeff couldn't believe that he had let it all slip through his fingers by trying to hold onto a woman that wasn't completely invested in their lives anymore.

"You are a great father, Jeff," Lynn told him firmly, "But we all make mistakes. And I have all faith that you will bounce back from this—and be stronger than ever."

"How, though?" he questioned.

Jeff was ashamed of the desperation in his voice. He wanted to fix everything so badly, but he didn't know where to start. He was used to having someone help him with raising the kids—how was one to be a single parent? And God, he didn't know the first thing to do for Stacey.

The thought of discussing periods, bras, and boys, and having sex—Jeff just wanted to pull out his hunting rifle and shoot himself. The idea was _horrifying._

"Baby steps, darlin'," she told him with a smile. "This won't be easy and I can guarantee that there will be fights and tears and misunderstandings, but you shouldn't give up. _Ever._ The fact that you're acknowledging the problem is progress."

The earnest hope in Lynn's hazel eyes was a balm for Jeff's aching heart. Feeling lost in the middle of so much drama was never a pleasant experience. He was grateful for her being someone he could talk to about all of this.

"And I think you should tell your kids," Lynn said quietly—her voice shaky. Jeff's eyes snapped to hers in shock. _What?_

He couldn't throw this on their shoulders! Not after everything they had gone through. "I don't know about that," he replied and Lynn nodded weakly—her eyes watering.

"I understand," she said, "but just think about it. Right now, they don't understand the sudden departure and _Sam_—Sam already told me that he feels like it was his fault. Telling them the truth would help soothe those doubts, and it would take away some of the guilt that I _know_ you're feeling."

Jeff looked at her and Lynn wouldn't meet his gaze anymore as she continued speaking, "You're trying to protect them because you don't want to tarnish that image of their mother, but Jeff—lying to them to save something that's already gone is doing nothing but hurting _you_."

Something in Lynn's voice clued him into the fact that something had to be wrong here. She sounded far too pained for this to just be about him—it was almost like she knew from experience.

Jeff opened his mouth to ask, but his elbow slid off the side of the table—knocking his folder onto the ground. His blueprints flew everywhere. Jeff groaned as he released Lynn's hand to gather them up. She bent over to help him.

"Sorry," he said with a blush, "I'm pretty clumsy." Lynn gave a soft laugh in response as she picked up the last blueprint on the ground. They both stood up—Jeff fixing the papers inside the folder and Lynn started to hand him the pile in her hands, but she stopped and glanced down at it again.

"What is this?" she asked—Jeff looked up when he heard the excitement in her voice. She handed it to him and he blinked.

"It's the semi-modern and semi-retro version that I drew up the other day. I meant to take it out—"Lynn interrupted him.

"_No!"_ she stated, "I love it! That's the one I want."

Jeff gaped at her.

Lynn wanted the one design that hadn't actually been created to be a design at all. He had been playing around because he couldn't think of any good ideas—and he had sketched that one for fun.

"Are you _serious_?" he questioned—still gob smacked and she nodded. Her hazel eyes were dancing and Jeff couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. Their previous conversation was set on the backburner as they got down to business.

Jeff was still thinking about Lynn's strange familiarity with their previous subject matter, but he put it to the back of his mind. He had work to do.

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><p><strong>May 2, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**12:18PM**

When Mercedes walked into the auditorium—her lunch tray balanced in her hands—she was understandably nervous. She hadn't seen or heard from Sam since Saturday night and having never been in a situation like this—she had no idea what to expect.

All she knew was that she didn't want to lose Sam as a friend. It wasn't like she was that clear on her feelings for the blond boy either. She knew that she wanted more than friendship, but it wasn't like she was in love with Sam.

Mercedes didn't have a clue as to what being in love felt like. She wondered of course, but she was mature enough to realize that she should probably have a real relationship with someone before she let herself get caught up in fantasies. She had thoroughly learned her lesson with Kurt.

Moving forward, and past the curtains—she finally saw him. He was sitting in his usual spot at the end of the stage—his legs dangling over the side, but his head was down today. Absently, she noticed that his hair was getting super long. He had already told her how annoying it was at that length. He wanted his old haircut back. And Mercedes would've done it for him—but that wasn't a skill she had learned yet.

She walked up behind him and said, "Hey Blondie."

It was much easier to start this off without being awkward—that way she had a chance of keeping this from going into no man's land. Sam looked up at her, and he shot her a weak smile as she plopped down next to him.

"Hey Cede," he replied quietly before taking a bite of his sandwich.

The lunch digressed from there. Sam didn't talk much. He gave her one word answers as much as possible and Mercedes felt so awkward that she wanted to cry.

It hadn't been this disparaging before—not even during their first lunch in the auditorium. She wondered if her confession had really put him off that much. She picked up her tray without another word and stood up.

Sam looked at her for the first time since she had sat down next to him. "Where are you going?" he asked—his voice confused. Mercedes was torn between rolling her eyes and glaring at him.

"It's kind of _obvious_ that you don't want me here right now," she responded harshly. Sam's green eyes widened. "So I think I'll save myself the embarrassment and leave now." She turned away from him and started walking away. She heard Sam curse, before he leapt to his feet and grabbed her.

Mercedes wanted to dissolve into tears. She would be alone forever—she just knew it. No guy who looked like Sam, or was as sweet as Sam would ever want to date a girl like her. She'd known it before she said anything, but she hated to be proven right this time.

"Mercedes, it's not _you_," he said and she scoffed. "I swear. I've just got something on my mind and I'm not ready to talk about it just yet." Sam's voice was sad and pleading at the same time. He tugged on her arm until she turned to face him. She could see the upset in his green eyes. And she could also see that he was telling the truth.

"It has _nothing_ to do with you," he told her. And Mercedes couldn't ignore the genuine look on his features. Something inside told her that Sam needed her to just be there for him right now—like she'd done all those weeks ago for him. She didn't know what all this was about, but she hoped that he would spill before something else happened.

But having gotten to know Sam—he would have to snap before he could completely break.

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><p><strong>May 2, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**3:14PM**

Rachel was between Sam and Mercedes—and Mercedes was_ not_ a huge fan. She listened to Mr. Schue introduce Jesse as their show choir consultant and she wanted to groan. Rachel's excited grin made her feel ill. It was just wonderful to know that any smidgen of a chance she'd had to get a solo during Nationals slipped down the drain.

It didn't help that she was already annoyed at Sam because he'd been acting standoffish all day long. It didn't bother her this much the first time around—but she was pretty sure she was so anxious because she didn't fully believe that his cold behavior wasn't related to the post-prom conversation they'd had.

Not knowing was driving her crazy. And listening to Jesse and Finn argue did nothing to help her general disposition. She was glad to hear Sam let out a small laugh when Jesse called Finn a pooping zombie, but she wasn't okay with putting people down just for kicks. That just kind of made her even more pissed at Sam.

When Mr. Schue mentioned there would be auditions for nationals, though—that brightened her day. Almost immediately she started scrolling through song choices—and even considering asking Sam if he would back her up on his guitar.

Mercedes spent the rest of Glee club contemplating her options and her competition. She saw the downtrodden look on Finn's face and she felt bad for him—he had been working hard to improve his dancing and singing; Jesse had no right to tear him down like he had. Every once in awhile she glanced at Sam, and wondered at the sudden attitude he was sporting.

He had only spoken once during the club meeting and it was a backhanded swipe at Finn. She had thought the two had ended their rivalry, but it seemed that prom had reawakened some of that animosity.

Her thoughts immediately went to Quinn and her mood was once again soured. Maybe Sam was confused because he had his doubts about giving Quinn up? Maybe he was upset that he'd let her go without a fight? Her thoughts were bringing her down big time, and it didn't help that he'd given her the brush off when she tried to talk to him after Glee had ended.

As soon as she'd mentioned the Nationals auditions and how she would love if he'd play back up on his guitar for her—he'd given her some lame excuse about being late to work and that they would hang out tomorrow at the motel to do homework. It hurt, yes, but what really made her depressed was the fact that he didn't hug her goodbye.

By nature, Sam was an affectionate person—and ever since that first time he'd hugged her goodbye—he hadn't let her go without one. But today he just shot her a weak smile and walked away.

So much for everything being alright between them. _She really should've known better._

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><p><strong>May 3, 2011 (Tuesday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**3:24PM**

When Finn announced his and Kurt's decision to help Sue plan her sister's funeral—Mercedes noticed the sheer outrage that appeared on Sam's face. He had been in a bad mood all day. And his attitude had only gotten nastier as the day went on. Sam had spent the whole of their lunch—fuming silently.

She could feel it from a mile away and she'd kept her mouth firmly shut—partially to prevent Sam from snapping at her, but mainly to stop herself from chewing him out for his ugly demeanor. She didn't know what the hell was going on, but she was going to reserve judgment before she said anything.

And damn if she didn't hope that truth didn't come soon. Much longer and Sam would find himself with a new asshole. He was honestly being_ that_ insufferable.

It went to show how much Mercedes cared about the blond, because she didn't put up with purposeful snubs for just anyone. The fact that she was mad at him, yet her feelings hadn't changed at all for him said something to Mercedes. It made her realize that the way she felt about Sam was _real_. As real as she'd ever felt about anyone before.

It pissed her off that this realization had to come about while Blondie was being a douche bag.

The Glee club meeting passed with Sam sitting all the way across the room from Mercedes—something that hadn't happened since they became friends. She listened with one ear as they started tentatively planning Jean Sylvester's funeral. And when they changed the subject to writing original songs again—Mercedes was too distracted to add anything substantial to the writing session.

Sam had her tied up in mental and emotional knots. She was going to get to the bottom of this—one way or another; because if he didn't watch himself, Sam was going to end up without a head.

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><p><strong>May 3, 2011 (Tuesday)<strong>

**The Motel Six**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:14PM**

Sam was truly being infuriating.

She had been there for over an hour and he hadn't said more than twelve words to her. She tried to start a conversation by asking where Stevie and Stacey were. All she got was that they were away on an overnight field trip, before Sam buried his head back into his calculus homework.

She furiously tore through her biology homework—making the answers extra long in an attempt to distract herself from the silence in the room. She glanced up from her last couple of questions to check on Sam. He was glaring at the page—obviously not understanding what he was looking at.

She sighed. "You need help, Sam?" she asked and Sam's gaze snapped to her.

"I didn't ask for any help, did I?" he snapped back and that was_ it_ for Mercedes. She slammed her book closed—the loud sound obviously surprising Sam because he blinked at her. Mercedes shoved her notebook and textbook into her backpack.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked and Mercedes narrowed her eyes at him.

"I have had it up to _here_ with your bad attitude," she growled. Seeing his eyes widen, Mercedes let out a short scream of outrage. "You have been acting like an ass since I saw you on Monday and I don't know what the _fuck_ is causing this change, but you damn well need to fix it."

She had had enough of being treated like crap, and she wasn't going to take it from a guy she'd considered another best friend.

"I've been trying and trying to ignore this behavior, but you haven't given me anything to work with," she exclaimed. "Where is _Sam_? The one, who talks about comic books, loves snicker doodles, hates cake, and speaks to my brothers in Na'vi? Where's the guy that I danced with this past weekend at prom?"

Mercedes didn't know what to do with herself. The tears wouldn't stop falling and her words wouldn't stop being spoken. It was like her heart was on loud speaker and it was begging for some sort of answer. Who ever knew that liking someone was so hard?

Sam was standing now. He looked like he didn't know what to say. He apparently _never_ knew what to say. "Mercedes—"

"_Shut up_!" she yelled. "You've done nothing but keep your mouth shut for the last two days—so don't start talking now that I'm good and pissed at you! You have _no right_ to treat me this way, Sam." Mercedes heard her voice crack and that just made her even madder.

He shouldn't have this type of effect on her. She didn't like feeling out of control and one stupid boy with a stupid Bieber cut that she actually found cute could shatter her emotional control like a thin sheet of glass. It was frustrating that he drove her crazy like this.

"You asked for time! _Great,_ wonderful, have all the time you'd like, but don't push me away and make me feel like shit in the process." Mercedes told him and Sam flinched back at her words. She felt vilified seeing the sadness in his eyes.

Now he knew how it felt. She was so angry, but she knew that it was her hurt talking. Without even noticing, Sam had broken down barriers that she'd kept up for years and now he was stomping all over her heart. She hated that she didn't even know _why_.

"If this is _you_," she hissed at him, "Well, I'm glad that I'm finding out before I become even more invested in this friendship or whatever the hell this is." She slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked directly up to Sam—who was looking pale and remorseful.

"Next time you see me," she demanded, "_You better_ be honest with me. I won't be lied to and I won't be jerked around. And the sad thing is—_I know _that _you know_ exactly why this hurts me so much."

And then she left—slamming the door shut behind her. Her chest heaving, Mercedes dug her keys out of her pocket and stepped towards her truck.

Her heart practically stopped in her chest when she heard a loud crash from inside Sam's motel room. The sob she heard next made her freeze and she warred with herself.

_Should she go back inside and see if he was alright? _

She knew that she would react badly to anything he had to say at the moment, but she hated to hear him cry. Against her mind telling her to go back inside, Mercedes walked to her truck and got inside. She drove away from Sam's motel room—and she cried the entire drive to her house.

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><p><strong>May 3, 2011 (Tuesday)<strong>

**Lynn's Home**

**Lima, Ohio**

**8:06PM**

When Lynn opened her front door—Jeff looked up from the pile of papers in his hand, his mouth open to say something, but it snapped shut when he saw the fresh tear tracks on her face. She looked surprised to see him.

He hadn't exactly let her know that he was stopping by, but they needed to figure out the work schedule for the rest of this week. And since he'd driven past her street to drop Stacey and Stevie off at their school for the field trip; he decided to just stop by.

Looking at her now—he was thinking that maybe that hadn't been his best idea.

"Lynn?" he asked concerned and she cleared her throat. He watched as she wiped her face with the sleeve of her baggy ivory sweater. Her curls were in disarray—her bangs clipped out of her face. She was wearing an overly large sweater that hung off one shoulder and fell to mid-thigh over her black ankle length tights.

"Jeffrey," she said—choking back tears. She rubbed her hands down her sides nervously and she tried to smile at him. Jeff found that the attempt made him more concerned. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

It took him a moment to answer. He was taken aback to see her so out of order. She had always been put together; he had only seen her off her game that very first time that they'd met. Since then she had been a dream to work with.

He came in and they would talk business for hours. She had the ability to make him laugh and he loved debating with her over current politics. Both of them had a love for_ The Nanny_ and popcorn. He took it like a man when she made fun of him for liking olives and he teased her about her obsession with broccoli. They had become friends in the past couple of weeks. And to see her crying—it made his heart hurt.

"I had some questions about the work schedule for this week, and since I was nearby—I decided to drop in," he said slowly and she nodded. "But I can leave if it's a bad time—"

"No," Lynn blinked back tears as she spoke. He could tell that she was trying to pull herself together. "It's alright." She took a step back and gestured into the house. "Come on in."

Jeff hesitated, but he decided to move forward. He walked into her home and wasn't surprised to see how decorative it was. It was all deep purples, burnt oranges, tarnished gold and soft browns. The whole place felt warm and welcoming. He heard Lynn close the door behind him and she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"How about I get you something to drink, darlin'?" she suggested softly. Jeff nodded in reply and she asked, "Coffee sound good?"

He smiled at her as she led him to her kitchen. It was done in a soft yellow with black marble countertops and silver accents. She opened a cabinet and pulled out two mugs. Jeff watched her move around the kitchen in silence. He wondered what had been enough to make her cry.

Glancing around the room—Jeff noticed a present sitting on the edge of the counter.

"Is it your birthday?" he questioned. Maybe that was why she was so upset? No one had remembered her birthday. Jeff tried to remember if she had mentioned something about her birthday coming up, but he didn't recall hearing her saying anything.

He saw her tense. She was silent for a moment, before she let out a choked sounding, "No."

Jeff was sure that her shoulders were shaking and he could've slapped himself for making her cry again. He hadn't meant to upset her. "I'm sorry!" he said hurriedly. "I shouldn't have asked."

Lynn placed the coffee mug on the counter and she leaned forward—her hands clutching the edge of the countertop. Jeff watched her body tremble as she used one hand to scrub at her face, before she turned around. Her eyes were bloodshot and her expression was heartbreaking.

Jeff couldn't contain his worry.

"It's my daughter's birthday," she admitted—and the words sounded like they caused her physical pain. Jeff looked at the unopened present on the counter and back to Lynn. He hadn't known that she had kids—the subject never came up.

"Then why—"he started but Lynn raised a hand to stop him. Her eyes were swimming with tears as she walked over to pick up the rectangular box.

"She doesn't live with me," Lynn told him. "Karly and Jonathon live in California with their father. When we divorced seven years ago—he got custody because the kids wanted to stay with _him_."

Jeff wasn't oblivious to the sheer agony in her voice. He didn't know the whole story but he hated seeing people in pain—especially ones who had a kind heart like Lynn did.

"It's Karly's birthday today," she whispered, "And every year, I send her a gift in the mail about a week before." Lynn gripped the present so tightly that the wrapping paper crinkled. "And every year, she sends it back unopened." Her chest heaved and Jeff's heart broke for her as he watched her fiddle with the small present in her hands. "I just thought it was her father doing it—you know. I figured that he still hated me and that one day she would finally respond to my attempts to talk to her. I send her and Jonathon letters every week—I never get a response. They all come back unopened. I tried calling and they never answer my calls. I blamed Davis for so long, but this year—_Karly_ wrote me back."

Jeff stared at her as she picked up an envelope on the counter. With shaking hands, she opened it and pulled out a small piece of paper. She read it aloud to him, "_Lynn_, I don't know why you haven't learned that I don't want to speak to you or have anything to do with you, but obviously me ignoring you wasn't enough. Please never contact me again. _Karly_."

Her whole expression crumbled as she looked up at Jeff—her tears swimming in her eyes. "The whole time—it was _Karly's_ decision. And all these years that I've been hoping that it was a mistake; praying that it was my ex-husband being vindictive—_just destroyed_.

Her chin trembled as she tried to stop the hysteria. "My children hate me, Jeff. And there's not a _damn thing_ that I can do to change it."

Jeff could see the panic and sadness in her hazel eyes. The pain on her face was enough to make him want to hit something.

"I love God, but Jeff, _why _would he do this to me?" she cried, "I've been faithful and I've loved everyone that's come across my path—but I get _this_ in return? I don't think I'm strong enough to keep living this way. To feel such _hate_ from my own children—it breaks my spirit, and _that's all I have left_."

Lynn's voice was a mixture of despair and rage—it reminded him so much of how Sam had reacted when his mother walked out that Jeff felt his chest tighten in sorrow. She let out a sob that was _grief _and _anger _and_ hopelessness_. It had Jeffrey around the kitchen island and next to Lynn in less than three seconds.

Her wounded cries tore at his heart strings as he tugged the present out of her hands and pulled her into an embrace. He felt her hands grip the fabric of his shirt as she shuddered and cried in his arms. Lynn sounded _broken_—like a person who had lost everything that she could've possibly loved in the slowest, most brutal way possible.

Jeff held her tighter as he knees gave out and he slid to the floor with her. He couldn't imagine how she was feeling. Sam being angry at him for a week had practically shattered him emotionally. He couldn't fathom living with that for _seven years_.

The strength and faith that must have taken was phenomenal. And to know that she had held herself together practically on her own—it showed how incredibly strong she was.

To hear such cold words was heartbreaking for Jeffrey and he hadn't even met her daughter. For Lynn—a woman who felt _so much_ for people and cared so deeply for everyone that came across her path—it had to have been agonizing. She didn't deserve this. No one deserved this type of pain. He had no idea how she had the ability to love _anyone_ anymore. He had no idea how she could possibly love as deeply as she did or be as compassionate as she was with so much suffering and heart ache in her life.

Jeffrey rocked her in his arms. He didn't think her tears would end anytime soon, and he didn't have the heart to leave her alone like this. She had been there for him yesterday and she had given him hope for a better future by giving him a job. That kind of friendship deserved an equal response.

He wouldn't leave her tonight, he decided. _Someone _had to be with her.

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><p><strong>REVIEW! I love hearing your thoughts! Until next time! :D (And before anyone tries to cut me-this is a SAMCEDES fic; so no worries.)<strong>


	16. Just Friends

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter. Some content has been paraphrased from "Funeral" episode of GLEE. That belongs to the writers of GLEE.**

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><p><strong>May 3, 2011 (Tuesday)<strong>

**Lynn's Home**

**Lima, Ohio**

**8:56PM**

It had taken a half hour but Lynn's tears finally subsided just before nine o'clock. He didn't let go of her until he felt her shift in his embrace. She pulled away from him and shot him an exhausted smile before she wiped her face off with the top of her sweater.

"I must be a mess," she said—her voice rough from crying and Jeff shook his head.

She was teary and her eyeliner was running, but she looked beautiful. Not many women could have an emotional breakdown and continue to look like they belonged on the cover of a magazine. Jeff stood up from his spot on the floor and reached out a hand to help her up. She took it with a grateful look at him.

"I'm going to go and get cleaned up," she told him, "Why don't you make yourself at home?" He admired the fact that she was trying to be a good hostess when he could tell that she was drained, but it wasn't necessary.

"How about I finish up this coffee and you go wash your face?" Jeff offered with a soft touch to her shoulder. She smiled at him weakly.

"You don't have to do that," she replied and Jeff shrugged.

"Honestly," he told her with a teasing smile, "I think we're past the awkward stage of this friendship now."

That got a soft laugh from her.

"Tears do bring people together," she commented and Jeff grinned at her.

She shook her head at him and took a deep breath. "Alright," she finally agreed, "The coffee grains are in the cabinet next to the microwave and there are filters on the top shelf. Sugar is in a white pot in the pantry on the third shelf to the right." Jeff nodded and Lynn squeezed his hand before he pulled away.

She walked from the kitchen and down the hallway while Jeff moved to follow her given directions. Once he'd gathered everything—he started up the coffee pot and he finally realized that Sam had expected him home almost an hour ago.

Jeff cursed in his head as dug his phone from his pocket. The last thing he needed was for Sam to worry about him disappearing as well.

His son had been acting strange since this weekend anyway. When he'd picked Sam up from Breadstix after prom—he had the most confused look on his face that Jeff had ever seen, but Sam refused to talk about it; saying that he needed to figure this one out on his own.

He'd been fine, but Jeff had left to go grocery shopping on Sunday morning and when he got back—Sam had been in a bad mood. He barely spoke and Jeff couldn't understand the sudden change in attitude. Stevie and Stacey had been just as baffled. They had no idea what had happened.

He called Sam and he heard it ring twice, then three times, and then four times before it went to voicemail. He found it slightly strange because Sam usually answered his phone, but he ignored it in favor of leaving a message—telling him that he didn't know what time he'd make it back to the motel tonight, but he would call later on.

He hung up the phone and put his worry to the back of his mind, before he poured two cups of coffee and turned around. He almost jumped when he saw Lynn standing in the doorway to the kitchen, but he calmed himself. She looked amused at his surprise.

"Here you go," he said as he walked over and handed the cup to her. She took it from his hands with quiet thanks before leading him into her living room. She curled up on a cozy looking brown suede and dark brown leather couch—a knitted throw over her lap. Jeff sat down beside her.

They sipped their coffee in silence before Lynn broke it. "I'm guessing that you want to know all the sordid details?" she asked and Jeff met her eyes.

_Of course he did._ He was human, but glimpsing into her tired eyes—he could see how much it hurt her to think about everything and he didn't want to cause her any more pain by asking her to tell him about it. Lynn gave a short laugh.

"The look on your face says it all, Jeff," she told him and he couldn't help but blush. She looked down into her mug for a moment before saying, "It's about time I talked about it anyway."

She leaned over and placed the cup on the stand next to the arm of the couch, before she tugged the blanket higher and fiddled with the frayed edges.

"Davis was an incredible man," she said, "I fell in love quickly. He didn't have money, but he had charisma. And his sister, Delia, became one of my best friends. We were good together. He made me happy and I made him happy—or I _thought_ I did. We'd been married for a good thirteen years—almost fourteen when I found out that he'd been cheating on me for almost two years."

"He told me that she had been his first love in high school—she was an heiress to a fortune, and they had broken up because her parents didn't like them together," Lynn let out a bitter laugh—the sound tore at Jeffrey, "She inherited all of their money when they were killed in a boating accident in the Caribbean and he'd gone to their funeral to support her because they were still friends. He said that she'd needed comfort and he gave it to her. That _one time_—turned into more than once and more than once turned into _every _weekend when he would go away on _business trips._"

Lynn's fingers twisted together as she talked, "After I found out—I decided to stay with him because of the kids. I didn't want to hurt them like that. I begged him to stay for their sake and he did. I became paranoid." The confession looked like it cost Lynn a lot of her pride. It couldn't have been easy to say.

"I would ask him where he was going every time he would leave on his trips and I would want him to come home at a certain time. I didn't know that he was talking to the kids behind my back—telling them that_ I _had cheated on him and that I was acting so crazy because I didn't want to be a part of the family anymore," her voice was trembling as she continued, "Johnny was only thirteen at the time and he hung on his father's words. And Karly had always been a daddy's girl. So they believed him. They started getting angry all the time and they wouldn't give me hugs or kisses anymore."

The look of remorse and sorrow on Lynn's features made him want to pull her into his arms again and take all that pain away, but he knew that she needed to do this.

"It was almost seven months later that I finally found out what he'd been doing during one of our fights. He had completely convinced them that _I was the cheater_—that I was the reason he _wasn't happy anymore_," she said, "I filed for divorce—hoping to get them away from him. You can't _imagine _how I felt when my kids said that they didn't want to be with me anymore during the custody hearing."

Lynn looked up at Jeffrey and said, "I had tried so hard to protect my kid's vision of their father that I ignored my own needs and desires and I had completely forgotten my faith. I let fear of losing everything turn me into a meek individual. I didn't fight him on anything when we were in front of the children—and I let him talk down to me in private, hoping that he would stay. And Davis was able to tear me apart from the inside. By the time the divorce went through, I had no self-confidence and no money. So I did what I thought was best and I let them go live with him in California."

"When Delia found out about everything that had actually gone on—she took me in and told me that she loved me and that I would always be a part of their family," she confessed. Lynn leaned over and grabbed his free hand. The earnestness of her expression made his heart pound.

"Jeff, I don't want you to make the same mistake that I did," she told him, "When you get the chance to tell them the truth—_please do_. Elizabeth doesn't deserve to have her image protected. She made a choice to leave and she has to live with the consequences. Don't let that stop you from being honest with your children, because _you'll lose them faster_ by not saying anything."

Jeff and Lynn stared at each other for a long moment. The truth in her words was enough to break Jeff's heart. He knew that telling the kids something like this had the power to destroy all the memories of their childhood. He didn't want to tarnish that. This was one hell of a delicate situation and Jeff prayed that he could handle the fallout when it occurred.

Jeff placed his coffee cup on the coffee table in front of him and he pulled Lynn into his side. She was tense for a few moments, before she relaxed into the sideways embrace—her head falling onto his chest.

"Enough of this for one night," he said to her, his voice soft. "Let's watch some television and forget about the douchebaggery in the world."

Lynn laughed into his chest and he glanced down at her. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze.

"We sure picked our spouses well, huh?" she asked and Jeff gave her a sarcastic quirk of the lips.

"Yep," he replied, "Pick of the litter." Looking into her hazel eyes, Jeff leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. Her eyes closed briefly before she smiled.

"_The Nanny_?" she suggested and Jeff grinned.

"Definitely," he agreed as she leaned forward to grab the remote off the coffee table—Jeff put his feet on the light oak table and Lynn smacked his leg.

"You putting your dirty shoes on my coffee table?" she asked teasingly.

"Yeah," he said as he leaned back into the sofa and crossed his arms behind his head. "You got a problem with that?"

She gave him a look. "Shoes off, Jeffrey," she said sternly. He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Nope," he replied and Lynn stared at him.

"Move 'em or lose 'em," she warned and Jeff stuck his tongue out at her.

They playfully glared at each other, before Lynn made a grab for his shoe. "Hey!" he cried as she wrestled one off his foot. He yelped when she started tickling his sock covered toes.

Laughing, Jeff tried to pull her back onto the couch and she squealed as she reached for his other foot. Jeff rolled his leg away from her and wrapped his arms around Lynn's waist.

He started tickling her and she let out a loud laugh. "Jeff! Stop that!" she said through giggles. Jeff fought to hold onto her—she was squirming around like crazy. At least he knew that she was extremely ticklish.

He continued his assault—especially when she managed to grab hold of his left leg and was trying to reach his shoe. Jeff pulled her closer and she wiggled around trying to get free.

"You will not have my shoe, woman!" he said and Lynn laughed as she elbowed him in the stomach. Jeff huffed out a breath.

"Those shoes don't belong on my coffee table," she replied as she launched herself at his left foot. Jeff squeaked in surprise at her sudden attack and he groaned when she wrestled the shoe off his foot.

Lynn waved both of his shoes in the air, victoriously. "I win," she told him smugly as she lifted herself off of the carpeted floor.

Jeff gave her the stink eye and she laughed at him. "You haven't won yet, Lynn," he told her and she gave him a sarcastic look.

"You couldn't beat me if you tried _old man_." She replied and Jeff gaped at her. He was only two years older than her!

"Oh, you're gonna get it for that one!" he responded jokingly.

"Bring it, grandpa." Lynn teased. Jeff leapt off the couch and Lynn let out a squeal before she high-tailed it across the room. Jeff chased her all over the house before they made it back to the living room. Lynn was on one side of the couch and Jeff was on the other.

"Need some Tylenol for the joints, Jeff?" she joked as he huffed and puffed across from her. He still had his muscle tone, but man, he was out of shape.

"I give," he said as he fell over the side of couch. Lynn laughed when he sprawled out on his stomach. She plopped down next to him and Jeff felt a smack on his ass.

"Why you touching me, if I'm so old?" he joked as he looked over his shoulder at her. Lynn looked back at him innocently.

"I didn't touch you," she replied, "Your ass walked itself into my hand."

Jeff burst out laughing and had to bury his face into the couch cushions to stop himself from howling with laughter. He could hear Lynn giggling behind him. It took them almost five minutes to calm themselves down.

Jeff rolled over so his back was to the couch cushions and he motioned for Lynn to join him. She fell into his embrace easily and he wrapped his arms around her as she turned on the television.

They didn't say anything she turned on _The Nanny_. Jeff had to laugh when he saw that she had the show recorded on her DVR, though. She smacked his arm and Jeff just kissed the back of her head.

There was nothing wrong with cuddling between friends. It just looked bad because Lynn was a gorgeous woman who Jeffrey could mentally admit that he was incredibly attracted to.

Lynn snuggled into his chest and Jeff prayed that she didn't feel his heart pounding. He heard her tell him thank you and Jeff couldn't help but smile. And as they laughed over the jokes on the show—Jeff felt happy and lighter somehow.

It was nice to know that someone understood.

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><p><strong>May 4, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**3:41PM**

"Lazy?" Mercedes fumed. She was so pissed right now. The auditions for lead performer at Nationals were _rigged._ Jesse had been planning to choose Rachel the whole time. It pissed her off that the little snake had the smuggest smile on his face when she'd threatened to clean his clock.

_She'd show him lazy. _

How dare that curly-haired Q ball call her lazy? That song took a hell of a lot of emotion and talent to sing and he just threw it back in her face like it meant nothing. She couldn't believe this. She hated this whole damn week.

It had been over a day and Mercedes hadn't heard anything from Sam after their fight. She felt bad that she'd gone off on him last night, but she refused to be walked all over again. It had taken her years to get her confidence back and she wasn't going to lose it for anybody—even Sam.

Infuriated, Mercedes watched Rachel's performance with Kurt and Santana. And yes, she was good—really good—but she didn't have choreography either. The only thing she did was get on stage and cry. If that was what Jesse was looking for then she could've easily given him the same.

She had cried enough tears lately to create a new lake. _Damn crazy white boy._

Even when she was mad as hell—she still worried about him. After he'd broken her heart and ignored her and basically treated her like a non-entity; she still wanted to know if he was alright.

Mercedes wasn't in the habit of lying to herself and she knew that she pictured those hurt green eyes in her head every ten minutes, but damn it all if he hadn't deserved the dressing down she'd given him.

When Mr. Schue made the announcement about telling them the results on Friday, Mercedes stood up and left the auditorium without a word. She hadn't wanted to be in there anyway. It was filled with memories of a certain blond-haired dork that told her cheesy jokes every day and bemoaned the epic failure that was the _X-men_ movie series.

As she drove home Mercedes realized that she missed Sam.

She missed his random spouting of Na'vi and how he'd always blush when he was the slightest bit embarrassed. And good Lord, it hadn't even been a day, and they weren't even dating, yet she was mooning over him.

It was official, she had it bad. _Really bad._

And when she pulled into the driveway of her house—only to see Sam sitting on her front steps, his head bowed—she admitted that she was glad to see him. Her heart jumped as he looked up from his hands and met her eyes through the windshield of her BMW.

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><p><strong>May 4, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**4:32PM**

Sam knew that he had messed up. He'd known it when Mercedes had slammed her book shut and started yelling at him. He had deserved every last word she had thrown at him.

He'd felt like the world's biggest asshole when she started crying.

He had treated her unforgivably. He had treated her like she was just there for him to lean on, and he'd been so wrapped up in his own emotions that he hadn't paid any attention to how much his distance had been hurting her. He felt like the worst friend in the world, and he knew that she thought he wasn't interested in her.

The problem: _he definitely was_. He didn't know where his feelings stemmed from—and that was an issue, but he could figure that out after he'd fixed this blunder. He watched as she stepped out of her truck. The look on her face was guarded and Sam wished he hadn't been the reason that it was there.

Mercedes walked over to him and she stood in front of him. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes were filled with hurt and anger. He was just thankful that she didn't walk right past him.

Reaching out, Sam grabbed her soft hands in his and he placed a kiss on each of her palms. He heard her breathing hitch as soon as his lips touched her hand, but Sam didn't care. He had to explain himself.

Sam gently released her hands.

"Mercedes," he whispered as he looked up at her. She stared down at him—her eyes watering. "I'm so sorry that I hurt you. I've been acting like a complete jerk this week and I know that my attitude was unacceptable."

The shame that Sam felt was strong. He could feel the guilt churning in his stomach. He hadn't meant to lash out at her, but he trusted her so much that he had taken her for granted. Something that Mercedes didn't deserve and certainly wouldn't accept from anyone anymore.

Her tirade had been a huge wake-up call for Sam and he'd been beating himself up ever since. He'd barely slept last night and he'd gone running again. It helped him clear his thoughts enough to figure out where he needed to start.

Sam felt Mercedes' hand touch the side of his face and he leaned into her soft caress. He looked up at her—his eyes filled with tears and she asked, "_Why_?"

That was a loaded question if Sam had ever heard one. He closed his eyes and said, "You should sit down." He felt Mercedes study him intently for a moment, before she sat down in front of him on the steps. When he opened his eyes, his green gaze immediately met hers.

"On Sunday," Sam began, "my dad took Stevie and Stacey to the grocery store. I decided to stay at the motel because I had some homework to catch up on. And while I was doing my history homework—my phone rang."

Sam felt his heart beat speed up as he remembered the moment. Everything had been fine and then _nothing but oblivion._ It had come out of absolutely nowhere—with no warning, no_ nothing_.

"It was my mom," he confessed and Mercedes' eyes widened in shock.

He saw the emotions flit rapidly through her hazel orbs and he was relieved when they settled on understanding, but he could still see the hurt there. "She hasn't tried to contact any of us since she left. And I wasn't expecting her to call _me of all people_. I didn't know what to do. Should I answer? Or should I ignore the call? I didn't know what to think or do so I just sat there and I let it ring. It went to voicemail."

Sam felt the anger and sadness rise up and try to choke him from within. He had never felt so many things at once before—shock, horror, rage, sadness and desperation. "I wanted to talk to her, Mercy," he admitted—unable to stop himself from crying, "I wanted to ask her why the hell she _robbed _us. I wanted to know why she walked out—why she would do that to her family, but I just couldn't bring myself to pick up the damn phone and _ask_."

"It hurt so much to watch what was probably my only shot at getting an answer—just slip down the drain," he told her, "I was so goddamned scared that I wouldn't be able to take whatever she had to say. _What if she hated me? _What if she never wanted me or Stacey and Stevie? And then I felt great that I ignored her call."

"But then I looked around me and wondered—what if I could have convinced her to come back home? What if I could have helped her come back and make us a family again? Then I was so damn guilty that I just threw that chance away—even though I don't know what I would actually do if I heard her voice again or if I saw her in person again," Sam was tugging at his hair—he could feel his teeth grinding together.

Mercedes placed her hands on his knees and Sam was grateful for the support. "I just can't decide if I just made the biggest mistake of my life or not—and I took my uncertainty and my fear out on the _last_ person that I wanted to hurt."

Sam looked her dead in the eye—despite the tears clouding his vision. "What ifs have been going through my head for the past three days. I can't sleep at night. I've barely eaten since Sunday and no matter how much I run or how many sit ups I do—I still feel _disgusting and worthless."_

"I didn't mean to take my anger out on you," Sam pleaded—he needed her to believe him. "I never intended for any of this to happen."

Mercedes was crying softly by this point—her hands still gripping the fabric of his jeans. "Why were you so upset when Finn talked about the funeral?" she asked and Sam closed his eyes.

That was a completely different matter. Monday had been the anniversary of his grandfather's death and even though it had been nine years—it felt like _yesterday_. This year had been particularly rough because of everything they'd been going through, but also because this was the first year that Sam didn't have his grandfather's guitar.

It had been the last thing that his granddad had given him before he died and every year—that guitar had been a comfort to him.

That didn't happen this year, and being reminded of funerals had set him off. It was a horrible reaction and Sam felt like the worst sort of person, but he'd been so angry and so guilty that he hadn't been able to think beyond _himself_.

He remembered how his grandfather had smelled of peppermint and salt water taffy. He could picture that old brown-leather jacket that he wore everywhere—he said it made him a hit with the ladies. Sam's grandfather had been a charmer till his last day—_everyone _had loved him.

His funeral had been packed—people were standing against the walls during the memorial service and the burial had even more people.

He was the person who introduced Sam into the original _Star Trek_ fandom. He was the one who'd come to every single one of Sam's little league baseball games and cheered him on from the stands. His grandfather had taken him to his first professional baseball game and he encouraged Sam's love of singing.

His grandfather had been his best friend and his role model and to be reminded of the fact that the last piece of him that Sam had been able to hold onto was gone—it had been too much for him.

He told Mercedes as much. By the time he finished talking about his grandfather, both of them were crying and her hands were entwined with his.

"I forgive you, Sam," she told him and Sam's shoulders slumped in relief.

He didn't deserve her friendship. And he didn't deserve her romantic regard, but he was grateful to have it. Mercedes Jones was one of those women that came around once in a lifetime—beautiful, loving, and_ incredible_. He had been blessed when he moved to Lima, Ohio. They never would have met otherwise.

And Sam didn't know exactly what he was feeling for her, but he was closer to understanding than he had been before. Sam squeezed her hands in his.

"You mean the world to me, Cede," he confessed and he saw her eyes widen in shock. Sam watched that hope appear again and he was so relieved that she still wanted to be with him—despite his obvious insecurities and his messed up emotional state.

"And you deserve so much more than a homeless jock with dyslexia and a messed up home life," he said, "I wish I could tell you that I'm in love with you or that I was falling in love with you, but I honestly don't know how the hell that feels."

Mercedes' expression dimmed and Sam wished that it wouldn't. He was bad with words, but he had to say this. She deserved honesty.

"I thought that I was in love with Quinn," he admitted with a bitter laugh, "I even gave her a promise ring." Mercedes' brown eyes closed momentarily and he saw her take in a deep breath. He held her hands tighter and she glanced up at him. "And when she cheated on me—I was surprised by how let down I felt and how much that hurt. It took me dating Santana to realize that I _didn't _want her back."

Mercedes gaped at him and he bit back a small smile. "Santana and Quinn are way too crazy for me. I wonder everyday how Finn managed to fall for both Rachel _and _Quinn." Sam raised their linked hands and pressed a kiss to the soft skin on the back of her hand.

Mercedes blushed and her eyes lit up. They were such a pretty color—warm and loving. He could stare into those eyes forever.

"I'm not interested in Quinn or Santana at all." He told her. "I've had quite enough crazy in my life without them adding to the mix."

"When I figure out exactly what the hell is going on in my head," Sam said as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers, "I promise that you'll be the first to know. You're _amazing_, and beautiful and hilarious and smart. I love being around you and I love that you aren't afraid to tell me how it is—though you were _terrifying_ when you bitched me out yesterday."

Mercedes rolled her eyes and gave him a teary smile. Sam couldn't help but untangle one of their hands and touch the side of her face. Mercedes leaned into the hand cupping her cheek slightly. Sam couldn't get over how soft and smooth her skin was as he stroked his thumb back and forth across her cheek.

He felt Mercedes' free hand fall onto his thigh.

"I really am into you," he said. "I just need to find out where these feelings are going to take me—_us._ I'm sorry for being so confused about all of this."

Mercedes bumped her forehead against his softly and Sam smiled at her. "Blondes are known for being difficult," she replied and Sam chuckled.

"I thought they were known for having fun," he retorted.

"They are," she said impishly, "but that comes after they throw bitch fits and cry a lot."

Sam couldn't help but laugh. "You sound a bit familiar with this process," he teased, "I didn't know there were any other hot blond guys in your life."

"Why, Sam," Mercedes mocked, "I thought you were aware of my Bieber love affair."

Sam pouted at her and she laughed. She looked him in the eyes and said, "I understand how this could be confusing for you. Just let me know when you're ready to give _this_ a try."

She softly rubbed his leg and Sam twirled her hair around his finger before he stroked the shell of her ear.

Mercedes shivered at the sensation and Sam smirked a bit as he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her neck and all the way up the side of her face. Feeling her warm skin against his lips was a dream come true—and it took all the will power in his mind to stop himself from reacting when he felt her fingers grip his thigh.

_Holy shit_; if he felt like this without having kissed her—then he was in some serious trouble if he decided to give them a try. Sam stopped his teasing and went back to resting his forehead against hers.

Mercedes' eyes were full of _desire_ and _hope._ Sam knew that he damn well felt something powerful for this girl, but he was still uncertain. There was way too much going on and if he gave into temptation and kissed her—he knew he might regret it.

"You're not the only one confused," Mercedes admitted and Sam looked at her in confusion. "I've never been attracted to blonds. This is like a life crisis for me," she joked and Sam grinned at her. "But I've never felt like this about anyone before. And the last thing I want to do is lose our friendship."

It was reassuring to know that he wasn't the only one freaking terrified about messing this up. Sam smiled at her and Mercedes smiled back.

"I promise that I'll let you know as soon as I figure this out." He told her and Mercedes nodded.

"Pinky swear?" she asked and Sam laughed as she removed her hand from his thigh and held it out to him. He reluctantly removed his fingers from her face and wrapped his pinky around hers.

"Pinky swear."

The bright smile that appeared on Mercedes' face made Sam's whole day. And when she wrapped her arms around him in a hug—he couldn't help but blush and smile and return the embrace.

They sat there for a moment—just holding each other, before Mercedes tensed in his arms.

She pulled back and looked him in the eye—her expression confused.

"Aren't you supposed to be at work, right now?" she asked and Sam gave her a sheepish smile.

"I kind of ditched," he replied and Mercedes gaped at him.

"_Sam!"_

"What?" he responded as Mercedes jerked away from him and pulled him to his feet. "You were more important." He told her as she began dragging him towards his truck by the hand. She gave him a look of exasperated amusement.

"Don't you be all sweet and stuff right now, Sam Evans," she stated firmly as she released his hand and herded him towards the door of his truck. "You have a job to be getting to. I don't want you to lose your job over me."

"_**But I was losing you**_," Sam sang to her and Mercedes smacked him on the arm.

"Get your butt in the truck and go to work, Blondie." She ordered.

"And if I don't?" he asked—smirking at her.

"Boy, don't test me," she replied as she tried pushing him even closer to the truck. Sam planted his feet and resisted. She laughed as she continued trying to shove him to the truck, but Sam didn't budge an inch.

"Damn all those muscles for _actually _working." She said as she planted her own feet and tried to move him forward. Mercedes was strong, but Sam was definitely stronger than her. He didn't work out all the time for no reason.

"You know you think it's sexy," he teased and Mercedes snorted.

"I was pretty sure they were just for show for awhile there," she responded and Sam pouted at her, before he twisted himself around and wrapped his arms around a surprised Mercedes.

"_Sam!"_ she groaned mockingly as she finally gave up. She wrinkled her nose at him and he grinned down at the put out expression her face. "Will you go to work before you get fired?" she questioned and Sam shrugged at her.

"Why's it so important?" he asked, "It's only one day."

"Because you need the money!" she told him, "And if you get fired because of me—your dad is going to hate me and your family might starve and I'll never forgive myself."

Her mini rant amused him and warmed his heart. He was happy that she cared so much about him and his family. He placed a kiss on her cheek and then finally released her. She smiled as he climbed into the truck and started the engine.

"See you tomorrow?" he asked—his head hanging out of the window. Mercedes grinned.

"Of course," she replied and Sam gave her an exaggerated wink before he drove away. In his rearview mirror he saw Mercedes do a small happy dance and he had to laugh. That girl was awesome.

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><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until next time! :D That one sung lyric was from Justin Bieber's "Baby" that Sam sung in the episode "Comeback" with a little modification. Haha.<strong>


	17. Through the Rain

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter. **

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I don't know your screen name, but hopefully I've fulfilled one of your birthday wishes. :) I hope that you've had a great day! Happy reading!**

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><p><strong>May 5, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**5:24PM**

"Sam, what the hell is that?" Mercedes asked—her tone incredulous. Sam looked up from his masterpiece on the crinkled paper and towards her. She was gaping at his creation.

"What is what?" he questioned and Mercedes pointed at his art. Sam glanced down at his pile of paper mache that he had been slowly shaping into a mushroom—or at least trying to.

The Glee club had decided to create a Willy Wonka Wonderland for Jean's funeral since it had been her favorite movie. They had spent the first hour of Glee club rehearsing the song "Imagine" from the movie, before they pulled out the arts and crafts and started making paper mache mushrooms and flowers to use as decorations.

Since the funeral was on Saturday—they decided to stay this afternoon to make all the décor they needed. At the moment though, almost everyone was on break. Santana, Quinn, and Brittany had gone to get food for everyone. Mr. Schue was with Finn, Kurt and Rachel in the computer lab—they were working on designing the programs for the funeral. Lauren had wrestling practice and she wouldn't be back until six o'clock.

Mike and Tina had left to go get more supplies for the artwork they were making. Artie was in the auditorium with Puck—they were working on the song arrangement. So, Mercedes and Sam had been stuck on paper mache duty until dinner. Sam was grateful for the time alone with Mercedes—he loved the Glee kids, but they could be rowdy at times.

"It's a mushroom," he replied and Mercedes shot him a look full of doubt.

"That doesn't look like a mushroom, Blondie," she told him with an amused smile twitching at the corner of her lips. Sam looked down at his attempted mushroom and had to admit that it was a little lopsided—alright it was _a lot_ lopsided, but he should get credit for trying!

Sam grimaced and Mercedes laughed.

"I guess I shouldn't consider art as a potential career path," Sam muttered and Mercedes smiled at him.

"You were born to be a _musician_, Sam," she told him as she started molding her perfectly proportioned and level mushroom. It was about hip height and she had been working on that one for almost thirty minutes. Sam admired it for a moment and gave a depressed sigh when he saw his own crappy mushroom.

He scooted away from the crinkly paper that he'd been sitting on and he wiped his wet hands on his jeans. Mercedes grimaced at the action, but he didn't care—these were his oldest and most worn pair of jeans. He had come prepared.

Mercedes put the finishing touches on her huge mushroom and was admiring her work as Sam grabbed his guitar from against the wall. He strummed the copper strings and he noticed when Mercedes looked over in his direction.

He grinned at her. She was wearing an old purple tie-dye t-shirt and a pair of boot cut jeans that looked like they had seen better days. But the worn material clung to her in all the right places. That was one thing that he loved about old jeans—they looked like they were made specifically to fit you after wearing them for so long.

Her hair was down and straight today. He wished he could see her natural curly hair again. But she was wearing her black frame glasses today, and he liked it. _A lot_. Sam thought she looked beautiful.

Playing random chords on his guitar eventually turned into a familiar melody and Sam couldn't help himself.

"_**Like baby, baby, baby, oh**_!" Sam sung the opening lyrics to the infamous Justin Bieber song as he strummed his guitar. "_**Like baby, baby, baby, no! I thought you'd always be min—"**_A wet piece of paper mache flew from where Mercedes was standing and hit him directly upside the head.

He looked over and saw Mercedes giving him a look. Her lips were quirked sarcastically, but her eyes were dancing with amusement. Sam couldn't believe that she'd hit him with paper mache! He wiped it off his face as he walked over and plopped down beside her on the ground.

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Mercedes held up a hand to stop him.

"Boy, don't you even start with me." She said and Sam grinned at her disgruntled expression. Just to spite her, he started playing the chords again and Mercedes smacked him on the arm.

He laughed at the look on her face. "I thought you liked my Bieber impression?"

"Sam, you're much cuter than Justin Bieber, but he can dance and you—uh, you _try_."

"I try?" Sam asked in mock offense, "I'll have you know that my dance moves are _epic_."

"More like epic failure." Mercedes muttered and Sam poked her in the side. She squealed.

Sam pouted at his _not girlfriend_.

"It's not a bad thing." Mercedes protested. "You look adorable when you try to dance. It heightens your dork-chic appeal."

"Dork-chic, Cede?" Sam asked amusement in his green eyes. "Is that your way of defining me so you feel better about falling for a sci-fi nerd?"

He was too busy being smug to notice the paint brush in Mercedes' hand, but he was eventually clued in when she swiped a bright blue stripe across his cheek. Sam gaped at her and Mercedes cracked up. He pouted.

"What was that for?" he whined.

"You're an Avatard," she replied cheekily, "I figured that you wanted to join the ranks of the blue people."

Sam teasingly sniffed at her. "This color is more smurf than Na'vi."

Mercedes' eyebrows rose in amusement and disbelief. "And I suppose there's a huge difference between the two?"

"Of course there is," Sam replied—his inner dork totally offended. "Avatar blue is far classier."

Mercedes was fighting to keep the smile off her face; Sam could tell. "Don't be insulting the _short_ blue people, Sam!" she told him sternly and Sam rolled his eyes. "They have leadership and they don't have anger problems like your Na'vi people."

"At least the Na'vi people don't have a town slut," Sam threw back as he returned his guitar to its spot against the wall.

"_That's a lie_," Mercedes protested, "All civilizations have a town slut. It's like a law of the universe or something."

"Well the Na'vi sluts would be smarter than Smurfette with her fake blonde hair," he retorted as he walked up behind her. Mercedes gave him a sarcastic look.

"You're one to talk_, lemon head_," she replied and Sam blushed. He should've known that Mercedes would've heard about that. Kurt was her best friend after all. He hated that the guy had immediately saw through his game. "The Na'vi people aren't that different from the short blue people."

Sam couldn't restrain his gasp of horror. "How can you say such a thing, Nala? They're on _completely different_ levels of awesome."

"They both live in tree houses," she responded and Sam gave her the stink eye.

"Smurfs live in_ little_ tree houses," he defended his opinion, "but Na'vi people live in one_ giant_ tree."

"They're both _trees_, Sam," she replied in fond exasperation and Sam grimaced.

"The Na'vi tree had magical powers," he told her and she laughed.

"Yeah," she said with a giggle, "Wasn't enough to keep it standing, though."

Sam could've passed out at that comment. He was torn between laughing his ass off and unleashing the thunderous power of sci-fi onto her head. When Mercedes leaned forward to gather another pile of newspapers, she said, "And the Na'vi had sex with _braids_—talk about weird fetishes."

And Sam couldn't stop laughing. Mercedes smiled at him over her shoulder, before she sat on her knees and started making another mushroom. Sam's chuckles eventually died off as a devious thought formed in his head.

He had to admit that he was staring at her ass. He blushed and felt like the biggest pervert, but _damn_, Mercedes looked sexy in those jeans. She was leaning forward to grab some paint brushes and Sam couldn't prevent himself from acting.

He reached beside him and quietly removed the lid of the semi-open can of canary yellow paint. He lightly placed his hand on the top of the paint—just enough so his palm was covered, before he pulled his hand out. Sam stared for a moment and prayed that Mercedes wouldn't kill him for this—but it would be so _worth_ it to see the look on her face.

Without giving himself a chance to hesitate, Sam moved over and used his paint covered hand to smack Mercedes directly on her butt. He heard her loud gasp and cry of "Samuel Evans!" as the wet paint soaked through the thinning material.

Sam was busting a gut laughing at her expression when she whirled around to glare at him. He stopped when she slapped him on the chest with a hand covered in green paint. And it was so _on_.

Sam chased a laughing Mercedes around the room with yellow paint on both of his hands. Mercedes responded by slapping him with a brush full of hot pink paint.

Somehow, he ended up capturing her and pulling her backwards into his embrace. Mercedes wasn't trying that hard to get away, but she was laughing. He held her at brush point and she was totally freaking—thinking that he was going to put it in her hair.

"Give up or your _hair_ gets it," he demanded and Mercedes flinched away from the green paint covering the bristles of the paint brush. He looked at her face from where his head was resting on her shoulder and he had to laugh at the dismayed expression on her face.

She hated losing and she didn't want to give up, but she also didn't want paint in her hair.

"Sam!" she groaned and he tightened his arm around her waist—pulling her closer. He moved the brush an inch closer and Mercedes said, "I give!"

The panic on her face made Sam laugh as he released her.

He fell backwards into a chair on the choir risers as she rapidly checked to make sure that none of the paint had gotten into her hair. They were a total mess—the front of Mercedes' jeans was covered in splotches of bright colored paints and her t-shirt had handprints everywhere.

There was a streak of yellow that went down her cheek and across her chin—and trailed all the way down her neck—to the collar of her t-shirt. Her glasses were fine though. Staring at her for a moment, Sam was struck by how _incredible_ she was.

"Mercedes," he said softly and she stopped stroking her hair to look over at him. Something in his expression must have surprised her because her brown eyes filled with worry and she dropped the strands of dark hair that she'd been examining to walk closer to him.

"What's wrong?" she asked and Sam didn't respond verbally. Instead he stretched a hand out to her and she took it immediately. When Sam abruptly tugged her closer, she looked wary. He pulled at her until she was standing not five inches away from his knees and he just looked at her.

Her hair, her face, her eyes, _just her_—it was all so beautiful. Sam tugged at her hand once more and said, "Sit down."

Mercedes moved to sit next to him, but Sam let out a noise of disagreement. He placed his hands on her hips and tried to pull her onto his lap. She tensed.

"Sam," she protested—her expression humiliated, "I can't sit on you."

"And why not?" he asked and Mercedes looked away from him. He had noticed the shame and self-consciousness in her eyes though and that just wasn't acceptable.

"I'm too heavy," she whispered and Sam squeezed her hips.

"Bullshit," he told her firmly and Mercedes' gaze snapped to his in shock. Sam met her eyes. "Sit down."

She started shaking her head, but Sam stopped her with a hard look. "Do you trust me?" he questioned and Mercedes' eyes widened, before she closed her eyes and nodded lightly. "Then sit down."

She only hesitated for a moment, before Sam guided her onto his lap. She ended up facing him—straddling his thighs. Sam felt her embarrassment and nervousness and he hated it. She was gorgeous and anyone who told her differently could go suck it.

Feeling her this close to him was driving him_ insane_; she felt warm and soft and curvy and Sam thought it was beyond delicious.

"The others are coming back soon," she told him—her voice shaking and Sam really didn't give a damn about the others at the moment. He was too busy mentally slapping himself for not seeing the living and breathing _blessing_ that God had given him.

Mercedes Jones' friendship was like a shot in the dark. You never knew when it was coming and it always hit you like a ton of bricks when it showed up. She had come into his world and taught him about forgiveness and love.

How had he not realized that his feelings for her were as real as_ he_ was? He was such an idiot.

"Sam, what are you doing?" she asked, but Sam didn't answer her. He just leaned forward and captured those soft lips with his own. She inhaled sharply and he felt her stiffen in his embrace, before she relaxed into the kiss and molded her lips to his.

There was no way to describe it. His mind was blank and his body was on fire. Kissing Mercedes was_ nothing_ like kissing Quinn—who was all about teasing touches and soft kisses—or Santana—who was rough and fast; all lust, no real passion.

Mercedes had full lips like his own and that made her kiss softer, but her movements were firm and_ passionate_.

He had never been kissed like _he_ was the one to be treasured and adored and Mercedes was doing just that. He had never imagined that it felt so amazing to be kissed with equal importance.

Her kiss was innocent and hesitant—like she wasn't completely sure of what she was doing, but Sam didn't mind. She made his heart pound with each soft movement of her lips against his and Sam could hear the blood rushing in his ears as her hands fell into the juncture between his neck and jaw.

Her scent was filling his nose and she tasted like chocolate and mint. God, he didn't want to stop kissing her, but he had to. Pulling away was the hardest thing that Sam had ever done and he felt like he'd just run a mile.

His thoughts and emotions were all over the place. _What the hell was this girl doing to him? _

He looked up at her and he groaned at the sight of her half-lidded gaze. _Fuck all if his not girlfriend wasn't the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. _

"Cede," he whispered, "I want to be with you so badly, but damn it—the timing couldn't be more wrong." He had a hell of a lot of problems, and he still had no fucking idea where these feelings for her came from, but _he wanted to be with her_.

Sam was on the verge of just giving up on finding out—just so he could kiss her again and make her his girlfriend, but he was positive that if they jumped into a relationship right now—he would regret it and Mercedes could get hurt. _That _was unacceptable.

"What are you saying, Sam?" she asked softly, her forehead resting against his and Sam looked her directly in the eyes.

"I want to give us a try," he told her. "Just to make sure that these feelings are real, you know."

"So you want to—"she stopped for a moment; searching for words, "_not date_?"

"More like _pre_-date," he replied, "Friends who are interested in more but not going on actual dates." Mercedes blinked a bit, but he could see the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"I've never heard of pre-dating before, but I'm always up for something new," she told him as she cupped his face with her hands. Sam grinned up at her as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "After all, I just kissed a smurf."

Sam laughed softly and lifted his hand to tug a strand of her hair. "If you kissed a smurf, then I just kissed a canary."

Mercedes snorted and said, "I have never in my life heard of such a _ridiculous_ couple."

"You're right," Sam replied, "but that ridiculous couple got together because of the shared awesomeness and the fact that the smurf thought the canary was smokin' hot."

"You are such a _dork_," she told him with a laugh and Sam couldn't resist placing a soft kiss on her mouth.

"Yeah," he admitted, "but I'm your smurfed-out dork." Those words had Mercedes' beaming.

"I don't know if this will work out, but gratitude can't _always _explain the rush I get when I'm around you—especially not in moments like this," said Sam.

Mercedes wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug and Sam held her for a few moments. He rubbed his hand up and down her back. Sam had to smile when he felt her fingers threading through the hair at the back of his head.

Their cuddling came to an end when Sam noticed that it was almost six. "We should get back to work," he told her as she pulled back to look at him. Mercedes smiled as she stood from his lap.

"How about I teach you how to make an _actual_ mushroom?" Mercedes teased, "You know, instead of the _blob monster_ you were throwing together before."

Sam sniffed at her as she walked back to the crinkly paper and sat down on the ground. "Stacey would call my creation a masterpiece."

"Stacey _worships_ the ground you walk on," Mercedes replied, "You could hand her a bowl of mud and she'd think that the sun was shining out of your ass."

"Hey now," he protested as he plopped down across from her. "No need to be _mean_. We've had this conversation about my ego multiple times now."

"Yeah," Mercedes agreed, "And I'm still _not listening_."

"You _would be_ the only canary in the zoo with_ rabies_," Sam told her and Mercedes snorted at that comment. "They're supposed to be singing and chirping happily—but you're trying to mess with a brotha's confidence."

"_A brotha_?" Mercedes repeated—her voice reflecting her disbelieving amusement.

"I can get my _hood_ on," Sam told her and Mercedes cracked up.

"_You're from Tennessee_!" Mercedes retorted and Sam pouted.

"There are plenty of brothas in Tennessee," he replied, "I was an honorary one when I lived there."

"Sam, you're so white—I feel like I'm talking to Casper!"

"And now she's insulting me," Sam said as he threw his hands in the air.

"At least I called you the _friendly_ ghost," Mercedes replied and Sam stuck his tongue out at her.

She let out a laugh. "Come on Blondie; let me show you how to make a mushroom."

Sam just wasn't made for paper mache objects though, and he was eventually downgraded to a painter. He had a ball doing that though, and he and Mercedes had quite the time explaining to the others how paint had gotten all over them. He couldn't tell if they'd succeeded or not, but when Mercedes smiled at him for sitting next to her during dinner—he decided that he didn't really care.

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><p><strong>May 7, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Lima Funeral Home**

**Lima, Ohio**

**3:03PM**

Mercedes could tell that Sam was feeling down. His green eyes had looked sad all day long, and she hated seeing the slight frown on his features as he and the other Glee guys hauled all of the funeral decorations into the funeral home.

She and Tina laid down the green plastic in front of the closed casket. Quinn was organizing the different mushrooms and flowers and decorations that they'd spent all afternoon on Thursday making.

Everyone was pretty much silent—the funeral's home somber mood was affecting them all. Tina and Mercedes shared a look—they both felt the downtrodden attitudes of the whole group.

Looking around at everyone, Mercedes decided that she hated funerals.

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><p><strong>May 7, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Lima Funeral Home**

**Lima, Ohio**

**6:01PM**

Mercedes found Sam long after the service—he was standing next to his truck that he'd parked in the far corner of the lot. The entire place was pretty much empty by the time Mercedes had checked and double checked the ceremony room to make sure that they'd gotten everything out.

Though her real reason for lingering so long was because it was raining—not storming yet, but it was coming down at a steady pace and Mercedes hated getting her hair wet; especially in public. But Sam was standing there—and her worry for him won out in the end.

She had noticed how upset he had been during the service—he hadn't spoken much all day. Mercedes wished that she had been closer to him during the song, but she wasn't going to argue with Kurt's arrangement. It had been a rough day for all of them.

Mercedes took a deep breath and prayed that no one would see her until she'd be able to use a brush and a hair straightener. It occurred to her that no matter what she did—Sam would see her fro-ified hair, but he hadn't cared two weeks ago at the pool; so she figured he wouldn't care now.

Stepping from beneath the awning, Mercedes made her way to Sam as quickly as she could without putting her foot into muddy puddles that had formed on the ground or splashing dirty water onto her dress.

"Sam!" she called out to him when she reached the front grate of his red truck. His head lifted and he turned to look at her. She could clearly see the surprise in his green eyes. Sam straightened up as she came around the side of the truck to reach his side.

Mercedes wanted to cry at the sight of his eyes—it was obvious that he'd been crying before she got here; his lids were puffy and his eyes were red. She placed a hand on his arm and Sam gave her a weak smile.

"Your hair's getting wet," he pointed out needlessly. That was something she already knew. She could feel it curling already. Mercedes took a step closer to him and she wrapped her arms around his waist—pulling him into hug.

"You were more important," she replied and she felt his hands fall on her hips. The heat from his palms was startling against the chill of the water and the wet cloth sticking to her skin. Sam ran his hands upward—from her hips and up to her neck.

She felt his fingers tug on her wet curls as he rested his forehead against hers. "Thank you, Nala," he whispered—his voice barely audible over the falling rain. Mercedes' heart pounded in her chest. _This boy would be the death of her._ She just knew it.

They were silent for a moment and Mercedes' heart broke when she heard him let out a broken gasp. It felt like her heart was rattling around in her chest at the unfairness of it all. Mercedes fully believed that everything happened for a reason, but_ damn_ it was hard to keep hold of that perspective when she watched Sam.

His life was literally falling to pieces and he was trying to glue them back on every time. And now she and her aunt and her family were all involved in the rebuilding process. She was so invested in making sure that he would overcome this—that she felt his pain acutely; almost as though it was her own.

"My grandfather used to love the rain," Sam said—his voice raspy with sorrow. "He always said that the rain drops were the tears of our lost loved ones. That they cried because they felt how much we missed them. He told me that the rain was the perfect place to be whenever you needed to feel close to something. He said that in the rain it was okay to cry and smile at the same time—it didn't matter that you were sad or happy—just that _you were there_."

Sam let out the bitterest sound that Mercedes had ever heard before. It made her chest tighten.

"I don't think those tears work when your lost loved one is still alive," he told her and she knew that he was crying again. "I wish my grandfather was here now, Cede. I've been standing in the rain for the past twenty minutes and all I keep thinking—is that he's crying for _me_. I remember when he'd put these disgustingly yellow rain boots on my feet—I called them banana walkers for the longest time—and he'd put me in a jacket. We would walk out in the rain together and we'd cry together. Then we'd _sing_."

Sam let out a small laugh through his tears and Mercedes clutched him tightly. "We'd sing "All I Needed Was the Rain" by Elvis Presley, and Cede, you haven't seen anything like my grandfather performing an Elvis Presley song," he said as he met her eyes. She loved seeing the sparkle back in his gaze as he talked. The love between those two must have been a sight to see. It was very apparent that he adored his grandfather.

Sam started humming a very bluesy tune and Mercedes watched him with a small smile. His hands moved from her curls and ran down her sides until they reached her hips. Sam's eyes fell closed as he started singing, "_**Hello misfortune, how's my old friend "Mr. Misery"?**_"

His fingers tapped out a beat against her hips as he sang, "_**I've been away so long I bet you thought you saw the last of me**__**. **__**I g**__**ot no bed to rest my head**__**—**__**n**__**o doors or walls or window pane**__**.**_" He sounded good with a song that had a bluesy and country feel to it. The smile on his face got bigger as he started swaying a bit. "_**Now all I needed was the rain**__**—**__**rain, rain, rain, rain**__**."**__**  
><strong>_  
>Sam's green eyes opened as he pulled her closer and voiced, "<em><strong>Met a little honey at the "Buzzin' Bumble Bee Cafe"<strong>__**—**__**yes, I did**__**. **__**One drink and all my money and that honey bee had flown away.**_" Sam was pretty much dancing with her now and Mercedes couldn't help but laugh at the reminiscent smile on his face. He looked like he was torn between his memories and the moment.

"_**I'm 'bout as low as I can go.**__**I don't really mean to complain**_," he sang, "_**Now all I needed was the rain**__**—**__**rain, rain, rain, rain**__**. **__**All I needed was this rain. All I needed was the rain**__**.**_" Sam continued humming the tune even after he had stopped singing. Mercedes watched his eyes fall closed again and he relaxed into their embrace.

She didn't need to say anything. Mercedes let him get lost in his thoughts and memories and she was sure that Sam could feel his grandfather's love more than ever.

_Maybe Sam's grandpa had been onto something. _

She didn't know how long they stood there—not speaking, but holding one another—but her hair was a complete mess of wet ringlets by the time she climbed into Sam's truck. The smile of gratitude that Sam gave her as he started the engine—made it completely worth it. It helped that he blasted the heat as soon as they got in. The last thing they needed was to get sick—especially a week from Nationals.

* * *

><p><strong>May 7, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**11:17PM**

Mercedes had just walked up the stairs from the basement to go grab a quick snack from the kitchen when her doorbell rang. Her eyebrows rose. She hadn't been expecting anyone to stop by.

And Sam would've told her if he was coming over—but she doubted it because he said that he had a mountain of homework to do when he got back to the motel. Sam had driven her home around seven and she'd immediately gone to shower—after giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, of course.

She felt her face heat up. She had wanted to kiss him again, but Sam had literally given her—her first kiss not even three days ago and yeah, she was confident, but she had no experience with being kissed much less kissing someone else.

So she had gone for the easier route—a kiss on the cheek—and that still had her blushing like an idiot.

The goofy grin twitching at the corners of her mouth was enough for Mercedes to be grateful that no one else was around to see her. She still couldn't comprehend the fact that Sam Evans—as _supermegafoxyawesome_ that he was—wanted to be with _her._

It blew her mind.

And if she said that she didn't come home Thursday night and dance around her room singing love songs and saying "_That's right, skinny bitches_" to herself for over two hours—then she'd be lying.

Her celebration had gotten so intense that her mother had come up to ask her what was going on. Mercedes made up some craptastic story about some random guy telling her that she was a rockin' babe and luckily for her—her mother believed it. She just didn't mention that it was Sam.

Sam just made her so damn _happy_. He was still the same sweet and hilarious guy that she'd first become friends with, but he was into _her_. Every time he complimented her on something and meant it—God, it brought tears to her eyes.

Sam Evans was the type of guy that Mercedes had spent several lonely and pained years praying would come into her life and sweep her off her feet. And God had provided.

Long after all the tears, and anger, and jealousy—she had been ready to throw in the towel and accept the fact that she would be alone forever. But Elizabeth Evans walked out on the most loving individual that she had ever met and her answer was presented to her like a bomb going off.

She hadn't even realized that she was falling until she was a thousand miles under and there was no stopping it. Mercedes knew that whatever this was hadn't been completely defined and there was a long—and most likely painful—road ahead of them.

Sam had a lot of problems in his life, but Mercedes promised herself that she would be his friend—even if they didn't work out romantically. She would stand by his side and help him through it all. And it didn't matter to her if Sam was homeless and penniless—she loved who he was—the broken but loving man he was.

_He_ didn't need to be fixed—his home life needed repair, but Mercedes believed that God didn't hand out more than a person could handle—especially not if that person had a family ready and willing to help them.

She was sucked out of her musings as the doorbell rang again. Mercedes changed directions and walked down the hallway that led to the foyer. She trekked across the wooden flooring and to the front door. She could faintly make out long blonde hair through the opaque glass panes of the door and she only knew two other blondes—and Brittany didn't know where she lived.

Mercedes opened the door and let out a gasp at the sight of Quinn standing on her doorstep.

"_Jesus_, Quinn," Mercedes breathed as she stared at the older girl.

Quinn's normally immaculate appearance was completely gone. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders in thick strands—soaked through. Her bangs stuck to the skin of her cheeks and forehead and her clothes were drenched with rain water. She was pale and shivering despite her jean jacket. Her eyeliner was running down her cheeks and her mascara had spread around her eyes. But what concerned Mercedes the most was the fact that the girl was crying.

She was sobbing so hard that it hurt _Mercedes_.

She looked over Quinn's shoulder and into the pouring rain and she couldn't see any cars in the driveway. Her dad had parked the cars in the garage that was off to the left of the house to protect the vehicles from the storm. Quinn couldn't have possibly—"_Did you walk here_?" Mercedes demanded incredulously and Quinn nodded.

_The funeral home was at least six miles from her house!_ Without another word, Mercedes grabbed Quinn's arm and practically dragged her into the house. She closed the door behind them, before she looked at Quinn—her brown eyes wide with shock and worry.

The girl was still crying her eyes out and Mercedes hated seeing her like this. She decided to save the questions for a time when Quinn didn't look like a drowning cat.

"Come on girlie," she said softly as she placed an arm over Quinn's shaking shoulders. "Let's go get you cleaned up, alright?"

After the way Quinn had treated her this year—Mercedes had the right to be resentful towards the other girl, but she wasn't. She was disappointed, yes, but Mercedes could tell there was a reason behind her actions—even if she didn't know what it was just yet. She had always been taught to be kind and courteous to people who had hurt her or brought her down—simply because everyone should be treated with compassion even if _you_ didn't think they deserved it.

Mercedes led Quinn through the house and up to her bedroom—where she sent her to shower and gave her some clothes—that Quinn had left over from her stay the previous year—and a new toothbrush from the cabinet.

It took about forty minutes for the girl to shower, brush her teeth, and get dressed. While Quinn was getting cleaned up, Mercedes took her clothes down to the laundry room and started the wash. She sat Quinn's shoes on the drying rack—upside down so any excess water could drip out—and then she fixed Quinn a plate of the oatmeal raisin cookies she loved so much and a glass of milk.

_Every woman knew that cookies were step one to healing heartbreak. _

Quinn emerged from the restroom—her hair wet but clean and brushed—just as Mercedes was setting the plate of cookies on her night stand. Quinn wore a black Hollywood t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants—an outfit that Mercedes had forced her to buy when shopping once. She'd told the blonde that when you slept you were supposed to be comfortable; not perfectly attired like a nun. They'd been Quinn's most worn pair of pajamas when she stayed here.

The girl saw Mercedes standing there and she froze until Mercedes held up the cookies and milk as a peace offering. Quinn didn't look like she knew quite what to say, but she walked over slowly and crawled onto Mercedes' bed.

Mercedes handed her the food—which Quinn took with a grateful smile—and sat down next to her on the bed. For a few minutes, Mercedes watched Quinn nibble on a cookie—the despondent look in her olive green eyes still prominent.

"Your mother's cookies are still as amazing as I remember," Quinn finally spoke—her voice was soft and nervous. Mercedes acknowledged the compliment with a nod and a small smile.

"You're the only one who really enjoyed the oatmeal and raisin ones with her," Mercedes admitted, "She doesn't make them half as much now that she's practically the only one who eats them." Mercedes hadn't meant it as an insult, but she knew that she was pressing buttons.

She'd apparently pressed the right one because Quinn's expression was suddenly overtaken by guilt and Mercedes felt like a jerk for pushing her when she was in a fragile state emotionally as it was.

"I'm sorry, Quinn," Mercedes apologized as the girl stared down at the plate of cookies. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It's just—"

"I just ignored everything your family had done for me and I tossed our friendship out of the window for a chance to get my old life back," Quinn spoke roughly—her voice was shaking and she looked like she was going to start crying all over again. Without anything else to do, the blonde chugged the glass of milk she had in her left hand.

Mercedes was speechless. She hadn't expected Quinn to come right out and admit it like that.

Quinn leaned over and placed the empty glass and cookies back on the night stand. She tugged at her hair as she crossed her legs beneath her. "Well, yeah," Mercedes said lamely—not having any other response.

They were silent for a moment before Mercedes got her wits back about her. "Why are you here, Quinn?" she asked—the question had been eating at her since she'd first seen Quinn on her doorstep. "Why the hell would you _walk six_ _miles_ to my house—_in the middle of a storm_? Couldn't you have gotten a ride from Finn—"

"_Finn_ broke up with me," Quinn snapped—she said Finn's name like it was the most disgusting thing she had ever had to acknowledge. Mercedes was taken aback by that revelation.

She knew that they were having problems, but she hadn't expected them to split so soon. Okay, that was a lie—she knew that their relationship was doomed when it started over again, but she wasn't going to say that out loud—at least not right now.

"Why?" she asked.

"For _Rachel_," Quinn replied—her voice was so bitter that a bad taste formed in _Mercedes'_ mouth. She had seen Quinn furious and hurt, but she hadn't seen this bitter and resentful side of her before—and she knew for a fact that all of that hate couldn't be coming from a failed relationship and a lost two dollar crown from _Party City_.

"He's still in love with her," Quinn told her and Mercedes stared at her friend.

"Do you want me to be honest with you right now?" Mercedes questioned suddenly, "Or do you want me to tell you something that will comfort you for a few days and then I'll tell you the truth when you're ready to hear it?"

She had a hell of a lot to say to Quinn—stuff that the girl needed to hear, but it was pointless to say any of it if Quinn didn't want to hear her advice or wasn't ready to hear what needed to be said.

Either way, Mercedes wouldn't make that choice for her. Quinn was grown. And she could make her own decisions.

Quinn looked startled at the bluntness—she must've briefly forgotten what it was like to be a friend with Mercedes. That was okay—she would be reminded quickly.

Mercedes watched quietly as the emotions flittered through Quinn's eyes.

"As much as I know I need to hear what you have to say," Quinn began, "I'm not ready yet."

Mercedes could understand that and she was happy that Quinn was being honest with herself—_for once_. Maybe all the maturity she had gained at the end of last year hadn't been lost in the last year.

"Okay," she said to the blonde. Quinn seemed taken aback by her easy agreement, but she didn't say anything out loud to question it as Mercedes stood up. "Should you call your mom or something?"

Quinn's eyes watered. "I_ should_," she confessed, "but I don't want to go home tonight. Would it be alright if I stayed here—just for one night?"

Mercedes blinked. Now she knew there was something going on, and whatever it was had Quinn wound so tightly that she was practically an emotional military knot. Mercedes fought off her rising concern as she said, "That's fine. Do you want to stay in your old bedroom?"

They had kept her room just like she had left it. Quinn had become an integral part of her family—none of them had the heart to remove her place from their household. When Quinn gave her a confused look, Mercedes told her as much. The blonde looked even more overwhelmed and Mercedes prayed that the girl would stop being so stubborn before she did something stupid.

"Uh," Quinn choked out, "Would it be alright if I stayed in here—with you?" Mercedes was shocked—not just by the silent tears that were clinging to Quinn's blonde eyelashes, but because of the question.

She and Mercedes had slept in the same bed many times. Whenever Quinn's hormones were driving her into different moods—fear, paranoia, hysteria—and giving her nightmares, the blonde would sleep in Mercedes' room. The chocolate skinned diva had held a crying Quinn many a nights. And it looked like Quinn needed her to be that friend more than ever right now.

So Mercedes agreed. Quinn looked so grateful and relieved that Mercedes felt her heart break. She would get to the bottom of this because as crappy as Quinn had treated her lately—she knew that the kind-hearted girl who'd become one of her best friends was buried underneath all those walls Quinn had up.

After Mercedes had taken the dishes downstairs and brushed her teeth, she got into bed and turned off the lights—Quinn laying not four feet from her. And when she felt a soft hand grip hers, she looked over and could barely make out Quinn's outline in the darkness.

"Thank you Mercedes," the blonde girl whispered and the sincerity in her voice destroyed any lingering anger Mercedes had towards her. She would never forget, but Quinn had already received her forgiveness.

_Damn her conscience_.

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><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until next time! :D The lyrics in this chapter belong to Justin Bieber's "Baby" and Elvis Presley's "All I Needed Was the Rain". <strong>


	18. For Good

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter.**

**Happy reading! And Happy birthday to Keeponsmiling! (I think that's the correct ff account, but if I'm wrong, I'm sorry!) This is your day early birthday present. :)  
><strong>

**And some of you aren't happy with the idea of the pre-date, and I promise that Sam has his reasons. His problems will be addressed within the next couple of chapters and I think some of you might understand more about why he's so hesitant. I hope you enjoy the chapter! **

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><p><strong>May 8, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**8:26AM**

Mercedes was up and dressed for church by the time Quinn woke up. She had just finished curling her hair when the blonde girl sat up staring around blearily.

"Morning," Mercedes said as she stood up from her desk chair to walk over to the bed. Quinn blinked at her, before giving her a small smile.

"Good morning," she replied as she ran her fingers through her hair.

"Sunday morning breakfast is in the sun room as usual," Mercedes told her, "I have your clothes from yesterday; washed and dried—so you can wear that." Quinn nodded as she pulled the covers down her legs and went to crawl out of bed.

Mercedes pointed to the folded pile of clothes on her desk and Quinn looked at her. Mercedes observed the girl for a moment. She wanted to know what was going on in Quinn's head so badly that it took everything in her not to just _ask_. Quinn looked appreciative of the restraint as she stood up.

"Are you feeling better?" Mercedes decided to ask. It was a typical question to ask someone after you found them crying on your doorstep.

"Yes," Quinn replied, "I feel much better than I did last night."

Mercedes smiled at her. "Your mom called me," she told the girl and Quinn's eyes widened. "She was going out of her mind with worry when you didn't come home last night."

Quinn looked incredibly guilty at that. "Is she okay now?"

Mercedes nodded. "I told her that you had a rough day yesterday and just needed to be with a friend last night. As soon as I hung up with her—I got like three other phone calls from Puck, Finn, and Santana. Apparently your mother went through a McKinley High contact list trying to find out where you were."

Quinn's gaze was on her feet. She could tell the girl felt horrible about worrying her mother. When she looked up at Mercedes though, the only thing in her expression was anger. "Why would Finn call? He's the one who left me there."

"Left you where?" Mercedes asked quickly—_shit_, had Quinn seen her and Sam together yesterday? She wasn't ready for everyone in Glee club to know about their _not relationship_ yet!

Quinn looked slightly suspicious for a moment, but she left it alone. "At the funeral home," she said and Mercedes' heart was about to beat out of her chest. She hadn't seen any cars, but Quinn wasn't in a car if Finn had left her there. "As soon as he drove away—I just started walking and somehow—six miles later—I ended up _here_."

"You walked six miles on a whim?" Mercedes inquired—feeling her heart calm down. If Quinn had left immediately, then there was no way she had seen Sam and Mercedes together.

Quinn's pale cheeks turned a soft pink and she bit her lip. "I don't think I consciously knew just how much I needed to see you until I was standing on your doorstep," she admitted and Mercedes felt her heart swell.

It took Quinn a long time to confess to personal weaknesses—Mercedes knew that from experience. So seeing her admit something like that meant that she really did want to talk about whatever had happened to her—she just wasn't there yet.

"I can understand that," Mercedes replied and Quinn gave her a shaky smile. "How about you go get dressed, call your mom, and then have breakfast with my family this morning?"

Quinn looked surprised at the invitation, but she agreed anyway. "That sounds wonderful," she replied. Mercedes grinned at her, before she shooed the blonde into the restroom. Mercedes took the time to make her bed and throw all of her dirty clothes down the laundry chute.

Finished with that chore, she made her way downstairs and towards the sun room.

The sun room was located on the far right of the house—and one of its walls was made entirely of glass. In the mornings, the sun beamed brightly into the room—which was where it got its name.

The other three walls were painted white with a clear coating over the top—when the sun hit the walls though—the coating shimmered and shined. It was breathtaking to look at. In the middle of the room was a large oak table with matching chairs.

The Jones' family had used that room for Sunday morning breakfasts since they moved to Lima. Her mother said that it was a way to remind yourself of the beauty of the world and there was no better way to start off a Sunday morning.

When Quinn lived here—the sun room had been her favorite place to just sit and think. She had woken up early constantly and she would watch the sunrise while in her pajamas. Mercedes had asked her why she loved the room so much and Quinn told her that it felt like starting over—seeing the sun come up out of the darkness gave her hope that she would get past whatever was wrong in her life.

Mercedes had wondered many times where _that_ Quinn had disappeared to over the last year.

Her train of thought was interrupted when her mother called her name.

"Mercy," Delia greeted as she walked into the room—carrying a platter of breakfast foods in both hands. She moved past Mercedes to place the platters in the center of the table, before she turned to her daughter with a bright smile on her face. "Good morning, my love," she said as she embraced Mercedes.

Mercedes loved hugging her mother. She always felt so warm and comforting—and she smelled like lavender and chamomile; a scent that soothed Mercedes no matter where she was. Delia squeezed once, before she let go and looked her over.

She brushed a curl off of Mercedes' cheek as she spoke, "You look beautiful, my love. Did you sleep well?"

Mercedes nodded. "Yeah, though I had a friend hogging the covers on my bed."

Delia blinked in shock. "A _friend_—wait, was it the person who rang the doorbell last night?" she asked and Mercedes nodded, but before she could tell her mother who it was—Quinn walked into the room and Delia gasped.

"_Quinn?"_ she questioned in disbelief as she looked between the two girls. Mercedes answered her unspoken question with a nod and a huge smile lit up her mother's features. "Sweetheart, how are you?"

Delia was across the room in moments and she had Quinn wrapped up in a hug. "Wow," she said when she pulled back, "You look beautiful." Quinn had a sad smile on her face as Mercedes' mom brushed her blonde hair behind her ear. Mercedes had to grin at the interaction.

Delia had loved the pregnant, overly hormonal Quinn almost immediately upon meeting her. Quinn had been perplexed by the warm welcome—and even more so when Delia did everything in her power to make sure she was comfortable. The first week—Mercedes had laughed herself to tears every day. And by the second week, Quinn had gotten used to all the love and acceptance that her mother showed her without request.

She soaked up the attention like a sponge. It helped that Quinn and her mother shared a love of oatmeal raisin cookies, romantic comedies, and Will Smith. They'd bonded instantly once the conversations got started. It made Mercedes smile every time she'd heard the two giggling over something, before she was roped into joining.

She knew that her mother had worried and missed the blonde girl. She had asked about her on many occasions and Mercedes was sad that she didn't have very good answers. Quinn—whether she knew it or not—had become part of the Jones family.

"I'm alright, Mrs. Jon—"Mercedes couldn't help but snicker at the stern look her mother shot Quinn, who instantly corrected herself, "_Delia_. I've just been a bit busy this past year."

Mercedes knew that her mom didn't believe that for a second, but she was grateful that her mother was tactful enough to see that it wasn't the right time to call the blonde on her bullshit.

"_Oh_," Delia said suddenly, "You would drop by on the one weekend David is off at a dentistry conference in Michigan." If Delia was disappointed, Quinn looked crushed.

Quinn and Mercedes' dad had clicked the moment she'd come in the door with Mercedes—all blonde, frail-looking, and pregnant. Her daddy was protective over all women, but he hated the way Quinn had been dismissed by her father. Quinn had attached herself to him almost immediately and David fathered her like nobody's business.

Most people would've been jealous of their friends having their parent's affection, but Mercedes knew damn well that her parents loved her to no end and they showed her just as much as they showed Quinn.

So, the fact that Quinn had been practically adopted didn't bother her at all. "I'll have to tell him that you stopped by," Delia told the blonde as she led her to the table, "Will you come by again soon?"

Quinn froze at the question and both women noticed the tears that flooded her eyes. Mercedes fought every instinct within her not to ask, and she shook her head at her mother when Delia opened her mouth to say something. Her mother looked dismayed, but she kept her mouth shut.

Quinn finally recovered. "I-I would love that." She replied and Delia looked gleeful.

"That's fantastic, my love," she said and Quinn shot her a soft smile as she sat down in the chair closest to her. When Delia left the room to get Trey, Annabelle, and Jasper, Mercedes sat down next to the blonde.

"Are you okay?" she asked and Quinn nodded at her. "Do you _really_ plan on coming back again?"

Quinn met her eyes. "If you'll have me," she replied with such sincerity that Mercedes couldn't help but give her a bright smile.

"Of course we—"Mercedes was cut off by a loud cry from the doorway.

"_Quinn!"_ Annabelle shrieked as she flew into the room. The blonde girl had only just stood to her feet when a curly-haired blur crashed into her with a squeal. Quinn laughed loudly. It was the first time that Mercedes had heard Quinn laugh like that in a while.

The blonde was greeted just as enthusiastically by Jasper—except he toddled and tripped a couple of times on his way to her instead of running. And he couldn't quite pronounce Q's yet, so he ended up saying something that sounded like "inny!"

Trey, being the seven year old that he was, pretended like he wasn't just as excited to see her, but both Mercedes and Quinn could tell by the tight way he hugged her. Mercedes' older brothers would be taking final exams this week—so they'd all be moving back home while she was in New York.

They all sat down to a warm meal—filled with laughter and loud chatter. When it came to an end—Delia asked if Quinn would like to come to church with them, but the blonde declined—her mother would be picking her up in about five minutes or so. The kids looked sad at that, but Quinn gave them all hugs and promised that she'd come by again.

Mercedes and Delia walked her to the front door when her mother pulled up in the driveway. Quinn was pulled into a hug by Delia and she looked like she was about to burst into tears when the embrace ended. Mercedes was shocked when Quinn wrapped her in a hug.

"Thank you so much, Mercy," the blonde whispered and Mercedes tightened her arms around the girl's waist.

"You're welcome," she replied and Quinn stepped out of the hug. She walked down the steps and got into her mother's car with one more look at the two of them standing by the door. Mercedes and her mother watched the car disappear before Delia wrapped an arm around Mercedes' shoulder and pulled her into a sideways hug.

"Any idea what happened to her?" she asked and Mercedes shook her head.

"She wasn't ready to talk," Mercedes admitted and Delia leaned down to place a kiss on Mercedes' curls.

"She will be soon," her mom promised and Mercedes nodded in reply. "Come on, sweetheart—let's get ready for church."

The two walked inside and while Mercedes went to get jackets—her mother went to round up the younger kids. Mercedes tried to take her mind off of Quinn, but it wasn't working.

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><p><strong>May 8, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**The Music Shop**

**Lima, Ohio**

**1:16PM**

When Lynn walked into _The Music Shop_, she could tell that something was wrong. Jeff had come in this morning to install the new oak flooring in the restaurant space, and she could hear him banging around through the wall.

The only problem—there shouldn't be quite that much banging.

Lynn placed her bag down behind the counter and made sure that she had locked the front door behind her. _The Music Shop_ would be closed until the café was up and running. There were too many safety issues with all of the remodeling for her to have tried to handle both—and since it was pretty much only Jeff and herself doing all the work—she'd decided to close the shop down for now.

She pulled off her purple cardigan and tossed it onto the counter, before making her way through the newly made opening in the far left wall of the shop. They had cut out the spot for the two sets of double doors that would be put in to allow access between the restaurant and the shop, but they hadn't finished trimming it yet.

When the bottom of her tennis shoe hit the smooth new flooring that was spreading out across the room, a delighted smile crossed her features. _It looked beautiful._ She was amazed at their progress in almost two weeks. Everything had been stripped out and the walls had been repaired and the windows replaced.

Last week—she and Jeff had finally gotten the walls painted. The wall to the far right would have a bar in front of it—and it was the only wall with a prominent color. She had painted it a very dark purple and against the white oak flooring—it looked amazing. The rest of the walls were a soft mint green.

Lynn glanced up and saw Jeff near the middle of the room. She couldn't believe all that he'd gotten done since this morning. He must've been here super early.

He was on his hands and knees pounding away at the flooring—his features were twisted in intense concentration and she winced at the loud bangs that echoed through the empty room every time the hammer hit a nail.

"Jeff!" she called. He didn't seem to have heard her, so Lynn walked closer to him.

"Jeffrey!" she yelled and he dropped the hammer when he glanced up at her in shock.

The sudden silence was disconcerting—especially after all the loud noise. "Lynn," he said in surprise as he sat back on his haunches. "I wasn't expecting you today."

She gave him a smile. "I know," she said as she moved over to him. "I decided to stop in and see if I could help out."

Jeff gave her a sarcastic quirk of the lips. "I'm sure it had nothing to do with you trying to avoid doing your financial profile." Lynn couldn't help wrinkling her nose at him.

She had been avoiding that part of business and he knew it, but that wasn't the total reason she had been here today. She had actually planned on staying home and finishing that up, but when she'd gone to church this morning—something told her that she should come in today. And Lynn was far too used to those feelings to even consider ignoring them.

They usually put her exactly where she needed to be, but Jeff didn't need to know about that.

"I admit nothing," she joked and Jeff shot her an amused look as he grabbed the bottle of water that was in his toolbox. She watched as he took a long drink from the bottle before he used the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe the sweat off his face.

Jeffrey Evans was a very attractive man, Lynn admitted to herself. He had blond hair—a bit longer than she suspected he usually kept it because of the way he constantly moved it out of his face—and pale skin. He was very well toned and had the most gorgeous green eyes she had ever seen.

He looked like an older version of his son, and Sam was a handsome young man. But the scruffy hairs on his chin distinguished Jeffrey and Sam—Lynn had seen that baby face many times in the last couple of weeks.

"How long have you been here?" she asked—mostly as an attempt to distract herself from focusing on her friend's body, "You've made incredible progress."

Jeff didn't meet her eyes and Lynn finally paid attention to his body language. Even though he looked relaxed, he was also very tense. His expression was forced nonchalance and he was swallowing nervously.

"Jeff?" she asked in concern. "How long have you been here?"

"I got here about three this morning," he confessed and Lynn couldn't stop the worried frown from forming on her face.

"Why?" she asked as she dropped to her knees and sat beside him. "Is everything alright?"

"I couldn't sleep, that's all." He told her with a wave of dismissal and Lynn rolled her eyes. She could tell that he was lying. She just stared at him—her arms crossed. Jeff's eyes flittered to hers and he sighed. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"No," she said immediately and he slumped forward. Lynn's breath caught in her throat. Jeff looked so defeated and worried in that moment—Lynn didn't know what to do with herself.

"I can't afford the room at the motel anymore," he replied—his voice full of shame and guilt and such pain that Lynn wanted to wrap him up in a hug and protect him from the rest of the world.

"My savings account is completely _empty_—Sam's college fund is down to _fifteen _dollars and Stevie and Stacey's college fund has been overdrawn for two weeks."

"I found out yesterday that Elizabeth cancelled all of our credit cards," he said, "And the only reason I heard about it was because the bank called and informed me." His head hanging, Jeff laughed softly.

She couldn't tell if he'd done so to stop himself from crying or not, but she guessed that was why.

"I went in and talked to the motel manager late last night after the kids went to bed—hoping that I could talk him into letting me stay a couple days for free. Just until I could figure something out, you know," Jeff confessed—Lynn could hear the embarrassment in his tone and she could feel her heart breaking for the man. "_He laughed in my face_. He told me that if I couldn't pay—I had to be out by Monday or he would call the police and I could stay _there _for free."

Lynn was appalled. _How could someone be so cruel?_ She couldn't comprehend it—especially telling a man with three kids that he had to get out or go to jail. She had never been so ashamed of her society before. Such behavior was unacceptable.

"Jeff," she said softly as she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know what to do, Lynn," he told her—and the tears in his voice had Lynn's eyes watering. He turned to look at her and his green eyes were so tormented that Lynn felt her stomach twist. "I've been trying so hard to keep their spirits up—to keep them believing that everything would be alright. And now, I can't even give them a place with a roof over their heads. _What kind of father am I?_ What kind of _example_ am I to Sam, to Stevie?"

Jeff slammed his fist into the ground so hard that it cracked one of the wooden boards they'd been using for flooring. Lynn flinched more at the rage that took over his expression than the loud sound he'd made.

"I can't provide for my children," he growled out—seething anger and heartbreaking pain in his voice. "How am I supposed to face them tonight? How am I supposed to tell them that in less than forty-eight hours we're going to be _homeless_? There's nowhere we can go. I can't afford to drive back to Tennessee to stay with family, and I can't just up and leave this job that I have here. And _Sam_—God Sam, I can't tear him away from this place—he's never had that many friends before but now—" Jeff apparently was too restless to sit anymore. He stood up and starting pacing around on the steel-grated floor.

"Jeff—"Lynn tried to interrupt, but he was on a rampage.

"I've been _trying_ Lynn!" he shouted, "I've used my paychecks to put food on the table and pay for basic stuff they needed like soap and shampoo. I_ knew_ this was coming, but I didn't think it would be this soon. Sam is leaving on _Wednesday_ to go on the Nationals trip for Glee club, and I can't take him from that to ask him to work." Jeff stopped ranting for a moment to give Lynn a look of such desperate sorrow that she felt her heart rise in her throat and choke her.

"Did you know that he put in his request for time off _two days_ after they placed at Regionals?" Jeff asked her softly and Lynn shook her head. "It means the _world_ to him if he could go to this. And I can't—no _I won't_ take that kind of joy away from my son."

Watching him, Lynn felt a deep respect for him grow in the pit of her stomach. She could see how ashamed he was of not being able to provide for his kids—but she could also see that most of his pain and guilt and worry was for his children. He wanted the best for them so badly that he was tearing himself apart trying to fix this on his own.

That kind of determination was worthy of anyone's respect. Jeff was such a kindhearted man and his children were the sweetest things she'd ever met. He didn't deserve to go through this—_no one did. _

And it hit Lynn like a ton of bricks. The answer was so obvious that she couldn't believe that she hadn't thought of it before.

"Come stay with me," she blurted, before she could even begin to think about how Jeff would react. He froze mid-step and the look on his face was warring between disbelief and dismay.

"_What?"_ he gasped out as he turned to face her. Lynn took a deep breath.

"I said come stay with me," she repeated and Jeff started shaking his head.

"Absolutely not—"

"And why not?" Lynn demanded—her hands falling on her hips.

"You're my boss!" he cried and Lynn narrowed her eyes at him.

"_Jeffrey Evans_," she thundered, "I may be your employer, but I am your _friend_ first." She could feel herself shoring up for a fight. Lynn was sure that her eyes were flashing because Jeff suddenly looked both defensive and wary.

"I don't know about this," Jeff said and Lynn made her way towards him.

* * *

><p>Jeff had never seen Lynn pissed off before, and he was suddenly very happy that he hadn't. Her hazel eyes were filled with fire and her lips were a thin line as she stormed towards him.<p>

"Tell me your reasons," she said—her tone firm, "And I guarantee that I can dismiss every one of them." The challenge took him by surprise, but it didn't seem like Lynn was planning on backing down. He'd known that she was a strong-willed woman, but being face to face to it was something he hadn't been expecting.

But he wasn't a charity case and he wouldn't let her do so much for him—especially because he couldn't pay her back for it all.

"You're my employer—it would look wrong." He started and Lynn's eyes narrowed.

"That I am," she admitted, "but you're forgetting that this is _my_ business and I run it any way that I want. I don't answer to anyone but myself."

"I have three kids—how would they all fit in your house?" he asked.

"My house has five bedrooms," she replied, "You haven't been to my second floor."

"Sam is allergic to cats."

"Good thing I only have a dog."

"Stacey and Stevie are incredibly messy and like running around."

"That's what chores are for and I have a big backyard that they could play in."

_Damn it_—he didn't believe that she would actually argue him, but he could clearly see that she wouldn't give this up. He stared in her direction, unable to believe that he was even considering this.

"I can't pay you back for all this," he told her, ashamed and he was shocked when nothing but hurt filled Lynn's expression.

"Is that what you think this is about?" she asked softly, "Do you honestly think that I give a damn about your money, Jeffrey Evans?" He felt so guilty at the disappointment he could see in her gaze.

"If money was what I cared about—I never would have become your friend. If money was what mattered to me—I wouldn't be working right now—I would be married to the rich man that had proposed to me in college. If money was what I cared about—I would still be married to Davis," Lynn told him, "Money doesn't matter half as much to me as you seem to think it does."

Jeff looked away from her and Lynn reached out and grabbed his chin in one soft hand. "Look at me, Jeffrey," she said sternly and Jeff couldn't help but follow her insistent touches. When his eyes met hers—he was surprised to see the compassion and the anger in her gaze. "Am I arguing with Jeffrey Evans—_the father_ or Jeffrey Evans—_the man_?" she asked.

_What the hell did that mean?_ "There's no difference," he replied and she shook her head.

"There's a_ huge_ difference," she responded, "_Jeffrey Evans the father_ is the one I started talking to—the man who would do anything to give his kids the best that he could, but Jeffrey Evans _the man_—he's the one with some severely wounded pride and a compromised sense of self-worth."

Jeff was speechless as he stared at her. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm arguing with a man whose shame and guilt and _mistakenly_ lost confidence is affecting his good judgment," she replied—her tone was as sharp as a knife blade and her words cut Jeffrey to the core. It hurt to have someone he respected so much tell him that he wasn't thinking correctly, and it hurt even more to realize she was right.

"The main reason you don't want to do this is because you feel like I'm going to shame you if you can't pay me back," she told him and Jeff flinched. He hated that she could see right through him. Insecurities were_ insecurities_ for a reason—and Lynn was laying all of his out on the table for the world to see.

Well, it was just Lynn, but that almost made it _worse._ This was the woman who had brought him out of a never-ending shame spiral. She'd given him hope that he could build a better future for his children, and here she was offering him saving grace again. That sort of kindness was a rarity. To know that the person who had helped him so much could see straight through his bullshit was _humiliating_.

"And I'm going to tell you right now—I don't give a flying fuck about you paying me back."

Hearing such coarse words come out of Lynn's mouth had Jeff almost fainting from shock. His wide eyes looked directly into her scorching gaze as she stared him down. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

She was crying as she looked at him—her bangs falling over her forehead and eyes, but instead of making her look weak—it tripled the strength in her form. She wasn't going to walk away from this. "I want you_ safe_," she said, "I want your kids to have a bed to sleep in. I want them to feel like they have a _home_. I don't want you or your kids to worry about where you'll be tomorrow night."

She removed her hand from his face and stood tall in front of him. "_There shouldn't be terror in your eyes every night_. You shouldn't have to miss a meal because your children need food. I will _not_ sit by and watch as people that I care about live in misery. The people in my life wouldn't allow me to do so when I'd fallen into depression over Davis. _And I won't allow you to know that kind of shame and guilt and sadness_."

Lynn got right into his face. Her eyes were filled with righteous anger and compassion and sorrow. "Make no mistake Jeffrey Evans, I won't let you make yourself miserable because of some misguided pride," she told him—her eyes flashing. "I will argue with you until you can't take it anymore. But I promise that from this moment on—_you are not alone_ and you will not walk this path from poverty without my friendship. I have been _blessed_ beyond all comparison to get where I have in this life. And if giving you a helping hand will bring joy and happiness back into your lives—then _I will do it_."

Jeff couldn't breathe properly. Lynn's hazel eyes shined with tears as she met his eyes. "By the life and the breath that God has given me, _you and your family will not be homeless another day_." She said and Jeffrey wasn't able to argue with that.

He was blown away by the sincerity in her words. How had he met such a woman? How could anyone even begin to want to help his family? They were so far under that many would've run away from him by this point—but she was throwing herself in to this uphill battle completely. And for some reason, she had total faith that they would win. He couldn't even process that—much less compete with it.

Looking into her fierce eyes, Jeffrey said, "Okay." And Lynn beamed at him. Jeff couldn't decide if he had made the best or worst decision of his life, but it felt awesome to have found some sort light in this tunnel.

Now, he just had to find a way to tell his children.

* * *

><p><strong>May 8, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**The Motel Six**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:18PM**

Sam was fiddling with his guitar when his dad walked into the motel room. He hadn't seen the man all day long. Sam had been surprised to get a text from his dad saying that he'd gone into work early and would be back pretty late—Sam had heard him come in pretty late last night, but he'd fallen asleep soon after.

"Hey dad," he greeted as Stacey leapt off the bed to run to her father. He watched as his dad swept the seven-year old up into his arms—giving her hugs and kisses; he even rubbed his scruff against her soft cheek and she giggled at the tickling sensation.

Sam remembered when his dad used to do that to him as a kid. It had been the best part of his day—greeting his dad in the most ridiculous ways when he came home. That stopped when he turned twelve though—it wasn't exactly cool to run to the door screaming "Daddy!" when you were over four feet tall.

Plus, it would look kind of creepy for a seventeen-year old to do that. Sam shook off his thoughts as his dad lifted Stevie from where he was sprawled on the bed reading and tossed the boy lightly in the air.

Stevie let out a laugh when his dad caught him. He watched them converse for a moment, before his dad tossed the kid into the air again.

"Better be careful, dad," Sam teased as he played some experimental chords on his guitar. "You might pull something if you try to throw him too high."

His dad walked over and clipped him on the ear—causing Sam to smirk up at his father. "Watch it kid," Jeff said, "Your old man is in great shape."

Sam poked him in the stomach and said, "Uh-huh—you might want to lay off the Ramen for a while—it's starting to show."

Sam found himself in a playful headlock before he could blink. He started laughing as his dad took the guitar from his lap and placed it against the wall, before the wrestling match actually started.

Stevie and Stacey were cheering from the other side of the room as Sam tried to take his father down. He couldn't resist laughing when his dad tickled his stomach though.

"_That's cheatin'_!" he called to his father as he latched onto his dad's leg.

"Nope," Jeff replied, "That's what you get for acting like you have some _jokes_." Sam moved around and almost managed to pin his dad, but Jeff was too quick for him and he laid Sam out immediately.

The smug smile on his father's face as he let go and ruffled Sam's way too long locks made the teenager quirk his lips sarcastically. "Yeah, yeah," he said and Jeff smiled.

"You'll beat me one day, muffin head."

Sam stuck his tongue out at his dad and Jeff laughed. Sam made a move to stand up, but he saw his father's playful expression fade. Sam was really worried when Jeff said, "We need to have a talk, kiddos."

Stacey, Stevie, and Sam all looked at each other in confusion. Sam noticed the pain and guilt in his dad's eyes, and that concerned him more than anything. Jeff pulled a chair from the table to the edge of the bed and the three kids sat down in front of him when he plopped down into the chair.

Stacey crawled onto Sam's lap and Stevie sat next to him. Sam just placed an arm around his sister as she curled up into his side, but he stared at his father.

"Last year—when we moved," Jeff began quietly, "We didn't move simply because I got a promotion." Sam's brow furrowed in confusion.

"We moved because your mother was having an affair with one of her co-workers," And Sam's whole world started falling apart. It felt like he had tunnel vision. He listened as his father told them _everything_—from her cheating to their fighting and then to the fact that they would be moving in with Lynn. It took him almost two hours to get it all out, and by the end—his father and his little brother and sister were all in tears.

Sam felt numb. He didn't know what to think anymore. Or even how to feel. _His mother was a cheater?_ She didn't just abandon them because they were poor? Did she love them? _Did she ever love them? _

The thoughts racing through Sam's mind just kept getting darker and darker—until Sam was filled with an unspeakable rage. He watched blankly as his father comforted Stevie and Stacey—and as he put them to bed, Sam wasn't even aware of walking out of the room.

He hadn't heard Stacey call his name, or his father's agonized gaze on his back. He just walked out of the room and closed the door quietly behind him. It was at the forefront of his mind to just walk away, find his mother and give her a piece of his mind. He wanted to just get the hell out of here.

He couldn't even comprehend anything anymore. He wanted some sort of answer—revenge maybe, but the thought of his family inside that room, of his friends, _of Mercedes_ and Sam just couldn't walk away again.

He didn't make it past the porch when he felt his legs give out. Sam sat down heavily on the wooden steps and just stared at his lap. He lost track of time. He wasn't even aware how long he'd been sitting there, but when he heard the motel door open behind him—he didn't move.

* * *

><p>Jeff had been worried that Sam would walk away again, but when he saw his son sit down on the porch—his heart stopped beating out of control. The relief he felt was immense, but the guilt was overwhelming. His kids had looked heartbroken, and he knew that Stacey and Stevie understood what had happened objectively, but <em>Sam<em>—Sam had been cheated on before and he knew far more about it emotionally.

He had also been the most attached to his mother when he'd moved here. He'd spent seventeen years with her, and he probably felt betrayed beyond all belief. He cursed Elizabeth to deep hell inside his head as he tucked the twins into bed.

They fell asleep pretty quickly—as long as he didn't leave their sight. When he was sure they were out, Jeff got off the bed and walked to the front door. He opened it and walked outside—his keys in his pocket. Jeff closed the door before he turned to his son. He recognized the defeated posture and it made his heart hurt.

Jeff sat down next to Sam and waited. It didn't take long.

"Why the hell does she ruin everything for me?" Sam asked—his voice was a hiss of rage and despair. Jeffrey looked at his son and he recoiled internally at the hatred he could see in his son's green eyes. "Every time I'm close to being happy with my life—she does something to take that away from me!"

Sam's fists were clenched and Jeff wanted to howl at the unfairness of it all. His children didn't deserve this type of pain. And Sam was in_ pain_—a horrible, emotional torment that was sucking the faith right out of his son. Jeff wished he could take it away.

"I've found people who love me and who care about me—for who I am, and I get so close to just accepting it in my life, but she just takes that away from me by being so fucking selfish!" Sam growled, "I hate feeling so afraid and guilty every day. She's got me terrified that you're going to walk out on us too."

"_Jesus_," Jeff breathed in horror—he had been afraid that his children felt that way, but to have that fear acknowledged and validated; it took everything in him to not break into tears. "Sam, _I'm not going anywhere_."

"I know that!" Sam protested—his voice broken. Jeff saw the tears spilling over his son's lids and his heart bled with pain. "_I know_, dad. I want to hate her so badly—but I can't stop remembering how she was before all of this—and now I'm thinking that she never cared about us at all. How could she be so selfish? How could she not know that this would hurt us? Why would she do this, dad?"

Sam was looking to him for all of the answers to questions that Jeffrey himself didn't know the response to. He felt like his heart was in his throat. "She called me last weekend," Sam confessed and Jeff felt disbelief and murderous rage fill his body.

"She did _what_?" he demanded and Sam looked at him.

"She called, but I didn't answer," He admitted, "I was so scared to hear what she had to say that I just ignored the call."

"Did she leave a voicemail?" Jeff asked and Sam shook his head. Jeff couldn't believe the nerve of that woman. She called his son instead of _him_—the son that she had stolen from and left to discover her disappearance. The disgust he felt towards the woman he'd been married to for so long was no longer disquieting, but _justified_.

"I don't want to feel like this anymore," Sam whispered and Jeffrey pulled his son into an embrace. Sam clutched him like a drowning man finally finding a life raft. The raw pain he heard in Sam's cries made Jeffrey roaring angry. Nobody hurt his children like this and got away with it.

He was going to have to look into that divorce stuff tomorrow. He'd be damned if that woman had any claim over his children. He wouldn't let her hurt his kids anymore. Elizabeth was going down and she was getting the hell out of their lives—_for good_.

* * *

><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until next time! :D<strong>


	19. I Don't Love You Like I Did Yesterday

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter.**

**Hey all! I'm going to California for the first time this weekend-so there won't be any updates until Monday of next week. I'm going to try and post one before I leave Friday morning, but it might not happen. Haha. But to make up for it-I'm writing out a super long chapter (chances are it'll be about 20+ pages instead of the usual 13-15) and it'll be packed full of Samcedes and JLynn. These next two chapters have been envisioned in my head since Chapter 1. I'm so excited! **

**We're almost to the NEW YORK episode, people. Who's stoked? **

**Last thing: I was wondering if someone could create a banner for this story that I can post on Tumblr. As a prize, the winner will get the first New York chapter a day in advance. :) Just post your design on Tumblr and PM a link to me! **

**My tumblr website: iamtellnoone (follow me!) **

**And you can find me on twitter too! Username: StephanieITA (I love to talk, haha.) **

**Happy reading! :D**

* * *

><p><strong>May 9, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:46AM**

Mercedes walked into the school practically dancing with excitement. Auntie Lynn had called her last night to let her know that the Evans family would be moving into her house this morning. She was so happy for them. It was about damn time that they got out of that motel room—and even though she hadn't been able to do it herself; Mercedes was glad that her aunt did.

She had actually been planning to ask her parents if they could move into the pool house—but when she realized her feelings for Sam; she didn't think that would be appropriate and she doubted her parents would go for two teenagers dating in the same house together.

She would've forced her hand if they got kicked out, but Lynn had taken care of that without a word of input from Mercedes. But now she could finally give Sam the gift she'd been creating over the last month. He was going to love it!

Mercedes speed-walked down the hallways to get to Sam's locker—she couldn't wait to see him this morning. Truthfully, she had missed him on Sunday. She had gotten used to talking to him everyday—last week was an exception, but he had more than made up for it with that kiss—and she wanted to tell him about her aunt's house.

They would get to spend time together, regardless of whether she saw him this morning or not—there was Glee club afterschool and she'd offered to give him a ride to Lynn's house this afternoon while talking to her aunt.

Mercedes rounded the corner and spotted Sam's bright blond locks from afar. He was wearing a dark green long-sleeved shirt with horizontal white stripes and a pair of light wash jeans. The shirt was a bit snug and the sleeves were pushed up to his elbows—Mercedes thought he looked sexy.

She stared at him for a moment as he tossed books into his locker—still unable to believe that he was into_ her_, but she wasn't going to let that disbelief stop her from being with him. She walked forward with a huge smile on her face.

"Sam!" she said as she reached him. She wasn't expecting him to tense at the sound of his name. He turned to look at her and she was taken aback by the look in his eyes. She had seen it only once before—about four weeks ago when his mom walked out. That look threatened to stop her heart.

"Hi Nala," he replied softly. Sam reached out and touched her cheek—seemingly unfazed by the fact that they were standing in a busy hallway where anyone could see them. Mercedes' breath caught in her throat when his fingertips brushed her skin. _Holy crap, this guy had her in knots. _

The brief touch almost paralyzed Mercedes, before she responded to it by leaning softly into his hand. Sam gave her a sad smile when he pulled away a few seconds later.

"Blondie," Mercedes began, "I thought you'd be happy. No more motel—a room to yourself, a computer? What's got you so down?" She watched as he put his notebook into his backpack and tossed his brown bagged lunch into his locker. Sam looked at her for a second.

"How'd you find out about that?" he asked—his brow furrowed and Mercedes gave him a teasing look.

"Lynn is _my_ aunt," she said, "Not by blood, but by love. That woman adores me, and she knew we were friends so she called me up—asking what your favorite color is and everything."

Sam's eyebrows rose in surprise and Mercedes was happy to see the spark of interest in his eyes. "You know my favorite color?" he asked and Mercedes gave him a sarcastic quirk of the lips.

"Yes," she said, "It's red."

Sam blinked at her and she decided to answer the unspoken question in his green eyes, "You told me during lunch a few weeks ago—it was like one of the first things we talked about." Sam's slight smile meant the world to her; even though she wanted to blush now that Sam knew she had the tendency to retain everything he told her about himself.

Great memory seemed to come with the whole crush on the best friend thing.

"At least I'm not the only one," Sam said as he zipped up his backpack. Mercedes lifted an eyebrow at him and he shrugged. "I'm pretty sure that I know every trivial thing that a person should know about you."

Mercedes had to grin at his confidence—even though she could clearly see the blush rising on his cheeks.

"Like what?" she questioned. She was curious to see if he actually did know all that he said he did. Most guys didn't really listen every time a girl talked, but Sam wasn't most guys.

Sam turned to his gaze to her; his left hand still resting on the shelf of his locker. "Your favorite color is green. You love spicy Barbecue ribbed chips—the natural ones instead of Lays. You can barely stand oatmeal raisin cookies, but you love sugar cookies with colored frosting. You hate cupcakes. You love to swing. You love the _Die Hard_ movie series and you have a secret weakness for romantic comedies. Your favorite food is tater tots _and_ chicken nuggets—though you never admit to the last one. You hate _McDonalds_, but you can't get enough of _Wendy's_. Your favorite video game is _Call of Duty_ and your current favorite song is "Halo" by Beyonce—though you love Demi Lovato's music, but you rarely talk about it."

Mercedes was gaping by the end and Sam was giving her the most intense look she had ever seen. She could hardly believe that he'd remembered all of the little things about her that she'd been telling him over the last few weeks.

Sam looked slightly amused as he closed his locker door. "I do listen to you when you talk, Mercedes," Sam said softly as he stepped closer to her. She couldn't help but look up to meet his green eyes. They looked so sad and so loving at the same time that it took everything in her to resist pulling his head down and kissing him. "I don't think I've ever been this interested in a girl's life before. I drive myself crazy wanting to know more. And I _enjoy_ every second of it."

It was official—they needed to change the subject before Mercedes' heart beat out of her chest or she jumped Sam in the hallway. For a dork who supposedly had no game—Blondie knew how to use his words to induce some serious dirty thoughts and feelings.

"And if you don't want me to kiss you in the next minute or so, I suggest you take two steps back," Sam said and Mercedes' eyes widened. _Damn it Blondie!_

Taking those two steps backwards was the most difficult thing the diva had ever done in her life—resisting him felt like she had run the world's longest race.

She wanted those lips on hers and she wanted them now!

Mercedes had to forcefully calm herself down and focus on the problem at hand: Sam's sadness.

"Okay," she said shakily—desperate to regain her bearings. Macking on Sam while in the school hallway was a _bad_ life choice. Now, she just had to tell herself that over and over again. "Why aren't you excited to go stay with Lynn?"

She'd known that he avoided the question before—he did a pretty good job of it too, but Mercedes was used to calling people on their bullshit. And she knew how to read Sam like a book. By the sigh he gave, Sam knew the jig was up as well.

"I _am_ excited to stay with Lynn," he replied as he shut his locker door. "I like being around Lynn. I-it's a long story, and we really don't have the time to talk about it before—"The bell rang in the middle of Sam's sentence and he finished lamely, "the bell rings."

Mercedes couldn't help but see the sadness and anger in his eyes. He needed someone to talk to, and she made the first potentially bad decision of her life. "Let's skip first period," she said suddenly and Sam gaped.

"Are you serious?" He asked. "You've never cut class!" She kind of wished that she hadn't shared that little tidbit of information with Sam. He'd teased her good naturedly about the fact that Mercedes hadn't skipped class a single day in her life. The only reason she missed school was because she felt sick—and she had to be bedridden. So, she was an academic nerd—to each their own.

"I know that, Blondie!" she hissed at him, before she grabbed his hand and pulled him down the now empty hallway.

"Then why are we doing it?" he questioned and Mercedes stopped in her tracks. Sam crashed into her back, before she turned around to look him in the eye.

"Because you need to talk about this," she replied, "One missed class period—where the teacher naps anyway—isn't going to kill me."

The gratitude she could see in Sam's eyes made her positive that this was the right thing to do. He nodded at her and she felt his fingers thread through hers. The action caused butterflies to skyrocket through her stomach and her face felt extremely warm.

_Damn good looking blonds. _

Mercedes turned on her heel and continued pulling Sam forward. "And I know you're only okay with this because you can probably get notes from one of your friends in that class," Sam whispered.

_Busted._

The look of embarrassment she gave him over her shoulder had Sam laughing softly. She had known that she could ask her friend Charlotte for the notes from class, but she didn't want to admit to it. Mercedes had to smile at his amusement though.

She pulled Sam into the auditorium. No one ever used it besides the Glee club anyway.

It felt _right._ This was their spot—the place where their friendship first began. They both felt safe here. Mercedes and Sam were still holding hands when they sat down together on the edge of the empty stage.

Mercedes tugged at Sam's hand until he followed her unspoken directions and laid his head in her lap. She ran her free hand through his hair and it wasn't long before Sam started talking. He told her everything about his mom and how he was feeling towards her. He told her about his dad and the motel manager and moving in with Lynn. He just spilled everything that had been on his mind lately.

Mercedes just listened. She ran her fingers through his hair and just made sure that he knew that he had her undivided attention. On the inside, Mercedes was pissed as hell.

The more she learned about Elizabeth Evans—the more she wanted to go and cut the bitch. She couldn't believe that a parent could do that to her children. And she hated seeing how it affected Sam. _He was so hurt_—so hurt that she knew it pained him to even think about.

Mercedes didn't have a clue as to what to do about it and it was driving her insane. She cared so much about him, but she was powerless in this situation. She was mature enough to admit that as much as she sympathized with him—she couldn't _empathize_. She had no idea how it felt to be abandoned by someone so important.

She didn't have words to help him through this. The only thing she could do was stay by his side and be there for him. But in times like this—when his green eyes were clouded with tears—that simply being there didn't feel like it was enough.

* * *

><p><strong>May 9, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**The Motel Six**

**Lima, Ohio**

**8:14AM**

Jeffrey pulled into the parking spot at the motel and got out of the truck feeling world weary. He smiled though, when he spotted Lynn sitting on the hood of her car. She was wearing a snug lavender tank top and a pair of dark blue jean shorts with some white Toms on her feet. Her bangs were pulled out of her face with a sparkly purple clip and she was wearing those pearl stud earrings again.

She grinned when she saw him and hopped off her car. "Hi darlin'," she greeted as she walked towards him and wrapped him in a hug. Jeff held her tightly for a moment—happy that Lynn was such a tactile person. When she stepped out of the embrace she gave him a look full of understanding.

"How'd it go last night?" she asked and Jeff gave her a sad smile.

"Lots of tears," he admitted—the sight of his children looking so distraught and hurt was burning a hole in his mind, "They were really hurt about everything. Sam was angry and he felt betrayed. I can't even begin to think about what I'd do to that woman if she ever came back."

Lynn touched the side of his face and Jeff let out a deep sigh. "Everything will get better," she promised, "It might take awhile and there will be plenty of tears, but you're going to get through this—_we're _going to get through this."

He had to smile at her confidence. He was thankful that one of them had it. "Step one is to get you the hell out of this hotel room," she began as she moved away from him and put her hands on her hips. "And step two is me giving that douche bag manager a piece of my mind." There was an evil glint in Lynn's eyes that had Jeff laughing and slightly afraid at the same time.

She started to march off, but Jeff grabbed her arm. "As much as I'd like to see you bitch out the motel manager—I think us moving is more important. He's not even worth your time." He told her and Lynn pouted for a moment.

"I had my whole rant planned out too," she grumbled causing Jeff to laugh as he led her into the motel room. It was the first time that Lynn had been to the motel, and he could see the sympathy on her face as soon as she walked inside. But she didn't say anything; she just shook off the sadness and clapped her hands together.

"I brought a ton of boxes with me—they're in the backseat of my car and trunk," Lynn said as she glanced around at the random piles of stuff along the walls. He was kind of embarrassed, but it wasn't as if they'd had the time or money to buy boxes for moving. "I also have sharpies, duck tape, labels, and cleaning products."

Jeff stared at her for a second. "You used to this kind of thing?" he asked and Lynn laughed.

"The storage in my shop has been organized and reorganized multiple times since the day it opened," she told him, "I _always_ have this stuff. " Jeff was amused by that fact, and Lynn smacked him on the arm.

"I know you're making fun of me in your head, so you can stop it right now." She told him and Jeff chuckled. They journeyed back outside to get the boxes from the car, and Lynn carried in her basket of moving supplies.

They got down to work immediately. Lynn set up and labeled four large boxes with Sam, Jeff, Stacey, and Stevie on each one. They decided to go through clothes first and anything too damaged was tossed onto the trash pile just outside the door.

It took them about an hour to go through everyone's things—Lynn had a ball laughing at some of the underpants Jeffrey had. He of course blushed like an idiot whenever she found his boxers.

Jeff knew that Sam would be just as mortified when he found out Lynn had seen all of his underwear. They spent the next two hours packing knick-knacks and things that Jeff wanted to keep—but he separated the stuff by child—everything they owned went into their own personal set of boxes. In the end—everyone ended up with a large box of clothes, a medium box of toys or sturdy personal effects and a small box of breakable items.

Lynn and Jeff huffed and puffed getting the nine larger boxes stowed in the back of Jeff's truck, and Lynn carried the smaller boxes to her car's trunk. They spent one more hour—picking up trash, cleaning out the fridge and kitchen, making the bed, cleaning the floors; until the room was spotless.

As Lynn packed up her stuff, Jeff went to go check out of the motel. He gladly handed the key over to the motel manager with a disgusted smile on his face. Jeff walked out of the man's office with his head held high and when he saw Lynn standing by her car—her curls blowing slightly in the wind and a grin on her lips—he really felt like his life was changing for the better.

* * *

><p>Unpacking with Lynn was <em>hilarious.<em> He had known she was organized, but she was fretting over doing laundry and all kinds of crazy stuff. He couldn't believe that she wanted to talk about chore lists as they hauled boxes up the stairs.

Apparently she had taken his advice yesterday about keeping it systematic and age appropriate, because the chart she showed him was _legit._ He had to admit that he was impressed by it. None of the kids got more than about twenty minutes of chores a day, and none of them were crazy like wash the ceiling or something.

Not that he'd expected that of her, but you never knew. They were common things—like take out the trash, put dishes in the dishwasher or take them out, clean the bathroom—and no one had the same chores every day; they all cycled through them. Lynn and Jeff were on there too, which surprised him, but he thought it kind of adorable—especially since she was fidgeting nervously beside him like she was afraid she'd upset him.

He only gave her a sideways hug and told her that it was great. The relieved sigh she let out as she slumped into the embrace made him laugh. Then she had shown him all that she'd done last night. She picked out a room for each of them—Sam's was red; Stacey's was a light blue and purple; Stevie's was green and Jeff's was a deep burgundy. Their names were on the doors, and she had apparently gone out to the store and bought things that matched the rooms—since she usually kept white sheets on everything.

All Jeff knew was that Stevie and Stacey would flip out when they saw their rooms. Lynn had gone all out with flowers, and these cool retro design stickers and a double sided pink and orange bed spread. She'd put an outrageous number of decorative pillows on the bed.

His little girl was going to freak out—she would love it; he knew it. When he saw the soccer and softball posters on the wall though, he asked her about it. Lynn looked mortified when she revealed that she'd pretty much interrogated Mercedes about them last night.

He just stared at her in shock, before he swept her up into a hug. Lynn was too kind for her own good sometimes. As if letting them live in her home for free wasn't enough—she had to make them feel as though it was their home too.

Stevie's room was a science fanatic's heaven, and she admitted that Mercedes had something planned for Sam's room so she'd left it alone—except for buying a plaid bedspread and pillows.

When all of the boxes had been put in the correct rooms—Lynn started doing laundry. And Jeff headed out to go pick up Stacey and Stevie from school.

* * *

><p><strong>May 9, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**3:21PM**

They had two more Glee club meetings before they left for New York on Wednesday morning, and they still didn't have any songs written. Mercedes could tell that Mr. Schue was getting nervous about it—but he also seemed distracted. She couldn't tell if she was pissed that everyone had more important things to do than write the songs they'd be performing for Nationals, or if she was mad at herself for being one of those people.

She glanced over in Sam's direction. He was sitting quietly beside her, a frown marring his features. They'd ended up staying in the auditorium until third period. Sam had wanted the redness of his eyes to go down before they left the room.

She still remembered his hand on her waist as he stopped her from walking out and how he had leaned down and ever so softly pressed his lips to hers. She could still feel the tingles that had raced up and down her spine. The kiss had ended too soon for her liking, but the bell had rung and they had to leave to get to class.

Seeing him now—he just looked angry. Mercedes looked away from him when Mr. Schue clapped to get their attention. The curly-haired teacher opened his mouth to say something, but Sam interrupted him.

"Mr. Schue," Sam called and the teacher glanced at him.

"Yes, Sam?" he asked and Mercedes watched his head rise to meet the teacher's eyes.

"I have a song that I'd like to sing," he replied and Mr. Schue frowned.

"That's great Sam, but we really need to focus on Nation—"Sam interrupted the man again.

"Please?" Sam asked—and Mercedes heard his voice crack. She apparently wasn't the only one because Mr. Schue nodded at him. Mercedes watched Sam stand up from the top risers and walk down the steps.

Instead of picking up his acoustic guitar—Sam grabbed the electric from the stand and shared a few words with the band members in the corner. He hooked it up to the amp, and stood in front of them.

"This song is called "I Don't Love You" by My Chemical Romance," he said and Mercedes' heart sped up in her chest. Did he mean her? Was he ending this before it even started? The tears sprung to her eyes so suddenly that she almost missed his next words.

"It's for my mother."

And Mercedes' heart stopped. She saw the shocked reactions from the other Glee club members, but no one had time to say anything as Sam started playing.

The chords sounded angry and sad at the same time. He didn't look at any of them as he began singing, "_**Well, when you go; **__**d**__**on't ever think I'll make you try to stay. And maybe when you get back**__**; **__**I'll be off to find another way**_."

Sam's face was twisted and Mercedes could feel his pain from where she was sitting. The expressions in the room varied between horrified and depressed.

"_**And after all this time that you still owe**_," he sang—his voice was shaking, "_**You're still the good-for-nothing I don't know. So take your gloves and get out;**__**better get out**__**w**__**hile you can.**_"

The music got even more intense and Sam's voice was almost a scream as he voiced, "_**When you go would you even turn to say**__**I don't love you**__** l**__**ike I did**__** y**__**esterday?**_" He strummed the guitar angrily and Mercedes could see his eyes welling with tears as he moved towards them. His movements were jerky and furious as he played.

"_**Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading**_," he sang, "_**So sick and tired of all the needless beating but baby when they knock you**__** d**__**own and out. It's where you oughta stay!**_" Sam's voice was raw and low as he continued, "_**And after all the blood that you still owe**__**. **__**Another dollar's just another blow.**__**So fix your eyes and get up**__**; b**__**etter get up**__** w**__**hile you can**__**.**_"

"_**Whoa, whooa**_," he yelled and the pain in his voice tore at Mercedes—she wasn't even aware of the tears that were falling from her eyes as she watched him sing his heart out. "_**When you go**__** w**__**ould you even turn to say**__**I don't love you**__** l**__**ike I did**__** y**__**esterday?"**_

"_**Well come on, come on!"**_He yelled and he flew into a furious guitar solo. He was stomping his foot on the ground in time with the beat and his dancing amplified the rage in his expression.

The music suddenly softened as he sang, "_**When you go**__** w**__**ould you have the guts to say**__**I don't love you**__** l**__**ike I loved you**__** y**__**esterday?**_" Sam's voice was soft and rough—she could see the tears streaming down his face. His green eyes looked so hurt that Mercedes knew that this was his way of dealing with it all.

"_**I don't love you**__**l**__**ike I loved you**__** y**__**esterday**_," he voiced—his voice full of heartbreak and despair, "_**I don't love you**__** l**__**ike I loved you**__**y**__**esterday**_." When he played the last note, Sam's expression completely crumbled.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, before he put the guitar down and walked from the room. Everyone in the choir room was crying. They had all felt the murderous rage and pain that Sam had been feeling, but the only one who knew the whole story felt like she was falling to pieces.

Trying her best to hold her tears in, Mercedes grabbed Sam's forgotten backpack and her own bag, before she walked out of the room. She didn't say a word to anyone else as she left.

* * *

><p>Mercedes found Sam sitting on the sidewalk by her BMW. She walked over to him and knelt down in front of him, before she pulled him into a hug. And then she couldn't stop crying. "I thought you were talking about me when you first started," she admitted through her tears and she felt Sam tense.<p>

"_No_!" he told her firmly as he pulled back to look into her eyes. "That song wasn't about you at all—"Mercedes interrupted him.

"I know—I just got so scared when you first started talking—"

"Nala, no, _absolutely not_," Sam looked freaked out and incredibly guilty as he pulled her back into his arms. "I'm so sorry—I didn't even think."

They were both panicking and freaking out and babbling that Mercedes couldn't help but choke out a laugh as they clutched each other. Sam glanced at her in surprise. "We sound like a couple of crazies," she told him with a giggle. Sam froze, before he started laughing too.

When they calmed down, Mercedes asked, "What made you do that?" And Sam avoided her gaze.

"I couldn't keep it in anymore," he confessed quietly, "There's so much hurt and anger inside me that I had to let it out somehow—and I chose the only surefire way I wouldn't end up severely injured or dead."

"I'm glad you did," she said, "I prefer you both uninjured and alive. Plus, you playing the electric guitar is _sexy_. I call dibs on private shows." Her last sentence was said with a teasing grin on her face.

"_I was crying_!" Sam protested in amusement and Mercedes quirked her lips at him.

"Well, no crying during private shows, okay?" she replied and Sam let out a laugh.

Mercedes couldn't resist burying her head in his shoulder. Sam always smelled so good—like a mixture of Irish Spring and deodorant, but there was a soft scent that was purely Sam. She couldn't describe it, but it made her nose twitch in joy every time she was close enough to inhale it.

"Are you _sniffing_ me?" Sam asked—his voice bemused and Mercedes blushed as she looked up at him.

"Yes," she replied, "Got a problem with it?" Sam laughed lightly.

"Not really," he told her, "but this may be a problem during football season. I'll have to take multiple showers after practice."

Mercedes' heart skipped a beat. He was thinking about them as a couple in the future? Well, three months away, but in high school time that was like ten years. She couldn't help but beam at him.

He grinned back. "We should probably move soon if we don't want to get caught," he told her and Mercedes pouted. She didn't want to move—who knew being held by someone was so comfortable, but she knew he was right.

They got themselves off the ground and Mercedes unlocked the doors of her BMW. "Get in, Blondie," she said as she walked around the vehicle, "I'm taking you to Lynn's house."

Sam did as told. He tossed his backpack into the back seat and did the same for Mercedes as she started the truck. They both buckled up and Sam looked over at her. "What's her house like?" he asked and Mercedes smirked.

"You're gonna love it!" she told him as she backed out of the parking spot, "And she has this gorgeous dog named Marley—the most adorable dog_ ever_. Reminds me of you, actually."

"A dog reminds you of _me_?" Sam questioned in disbelief.

"Well, he's got light colored hair and he's cuddly and—you know what—I don't have to explain this to you," Mercedes said—she was grateful for her chocolate complexion, because she would've been bright red if she hadn't been.

"You can't just say that I'm cuddly—and _not explain_ the rest of it," Sam argued and their conversation fell into teasing and bickering throughout the whole drive.

* * *

><p><strong>May 9, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**4:11PM**

Sam's first impression of Lynn's house was that it felt _homey_. Mercedes had a key to her front door, so she let him inside and Sam just stood in the entranceway—looking around at everything. It was very different from the Jones Estate.

The house only had two floors for one thing, but he liked it. The front entranceway spread out about fifteen feet of cherry oak flooring and it led to an incline that had a hallway going along both directions.

Square pillars were spaced evenly around what Sam figured was the living room space, and the hallway tapered off into an archway on the far right that led to the kitchen and the hallway faded into another archway on the left side, but Sam could see a staircase through the opening that led to the second story.

Off to his immediate right was a small bathroom, and that was just what he could see. Mercedes took him around to a basic tour of the house—he liked it more and more with every room he found. Lynn liked warm colors—deep purples, browns, tarnished gold, dark oranges.

He thought it strange, but he felt safe in her house.

That could've also come from the fact that he hadn't been in a place so large since he spent the weekend at Mercedes' house. She led him upstairs and when he saw Stacey and Stevie's rooms he was surprised at how well they fit his siblings. It only made sense when Mercedes admitted to telling her about them.

Sam appreciated the fact that Lynn had gone through so much trouble to make them feel at home. He also noticed the half-way unpacked boxes in the kid's rooms and he couldn't wait to see his.

When he opened his door and saw the walls—he was happy. One wall had a pattern of evenly spaced red stripes and the rest of the walls were a solid red. The bed had a blue, gray, black, and red plaid comforter set on it And he saw the boxes in the corner of the room—along with a basket full of freshly folded clothing.

"Did she-?" Sam stuttered and Mercedes laughed at the look on his face.

"Yeah," Mercedes replied, "She probably washed your clothes—and packed some of them too. You'll probably get some more whenever she finishes the next load that we found washing."

Sam blushed furiously. He couldn't believe that Lynn had seen his unmentionables! There was enough blackmail in that to last him a lifetime—and crap, she probably saw his numerous Batman boxers.

He looked at Mercedes, dismayed and quite humiliated. She just burst into giggles as he slumped down onto his bed. He forgot his embarrassment when he noticed how soft the queen bed was and he took the time to sprawl out on it as he glanced around.

The desk in the far corner with a lamp and an empty bookshelf next to it; the shelves above his bed that were still empty; the open closet that had packs of new hangers hung on the bar; the cherry oak dresser in the far right corner next to a window that stretched all the way across the wall with the stripes.

He even had his own personal bathroom! The disbelief was setting in as he just looked around in wonder.

Sam took it all in. "It feels so weird," he admitted and Mercedes quirked an eyebrow at him in confusion. "It's been so long since I've been in a room for myself—that it's strange to realize that I don't have to share the same rickety old bed with three other people. And our stuff doesn't have to be shoved against the walls."

He felt Mercedes' compassionate gaze on him and he gave her a smile. "I'm so grateful that I don't even know how to begin saying thank you," he told her and Mercedes tugged on a lock of his hair.

"Lynn isn't expecting anything from you," she replied, "As long as you keep working as hard as you do to make your life better—and her knowing that you will be safe and fed every night, I promise that that is thank you enough for her."

Sam smiled at her, before his gaze was caught by a large box in wrapping paper. "What's that?" he asked and Mercedes followed his gaze to the corner. He saw her eyes light up before she grinned down at him.

"That's my present for you," she told him and Sam's eyebrows shot up, "I've been working on it since I found out about your situation."

_What on earth could have taken that long?_ He stared up at her and Mercedes just gave him an excited grin.

"I told myself that I would give it to you whenever your family moved into a living space," she said, "And now that you have—I thought it was a good present for you."

He looked between her and the gift-wrapped present for a few moments. "You should open it," she encouraged him and Sam nodded. He took his backpack off his shoulder and put it on the desk chair, before he made his way to the present.

It was a huge box, but it wasn't heavy. He lifted it easily and placed it at the foot of his bed, before he tore into the wrapping paper eagerly. Mercedes laughed at his enthusiasm.

And when Sam got to the gift on the inside—he wasn't gonna lie—he hadn't expected to see what appeared to be twenty or so rolled up posters. He lifted one out of the box and untied the ribbon wrapped around it. The tube unrolled itself and when Sam turned it over to see the front—he yelped.

_Sweet Avatar!_

Sam couldn't help gaping. He couldn't be seeing what he thought he was. Sam glanced over at Mercedes in disbelief and she started laughing at the look on his face.

She had gotten him a collector's edition _Star Trek_ poster! Sam was trying really hard to keep his inner dork under control as he gingerly laid the poster down on the bed, before he pulled out another.

Each poster had a different sci-fi theme—and they were all of Sam's favorites: _Star Trek_, _Star Wars_, Spiderman, Batman, Superman. His excitement was pretty much through the roof when he got to the last one—the biggest poster in the batch—and when he saw that it was an _Avatar _poster—Sam actually jumped in the air screaming, "Yes!"

Mercedes was dying of laughter especially when he looked at the bottom of the box and saw _Avatar: The Collector's Edition_ DVD and an autograph from James Cameron on the cover.

Sam was so happy that he was struggling to hide his tears as he held the DVD gently.

"Mercedes," he choked out—he couldn't believe that she had done this for him. He couldn't believe that she remembered all of his sci-fi addictions.

Sam was speechless. He placed the Avatar DVD on his desk, before he walked over to Mercedes and pulled her into a fierce embrace. "Thank you so much, Nala," he told her and Mercedes wrapped her arms around him.

"No problem, Sam," she replied and Sam finally let her go. He stared into her sparkling brown eyes and he couldn't resist leaning forward and kissing her.

Her lips were just as soft as the first and second time they'd kissed, but this time he wasn't thinking about anything but how good she felt and smelled and how amazing she was. He held her hips in his hands and used his tongue to swipe across her bottom lip.

Mercedes jerked away with a gasp, and Sam blinked at her in confusion. She looked terrified and shocked.

"What was _that_?" she asked and Sam's eyebrows shot up.

"I was kissing you," he said slowly and Mercedes stared at him.

"But—your_ tongue_—oh my god," she said—and Sam could see the panic in her eyes. It took him a minute, but he finally figured out what was wrong. He almost gaped at her, but he resisted.

_He should've known_. Mercedes had admitted that she'd never dated anyone before—how could he have not figured out that she hadn't kissed anyone either.

"You've never French kissed anyone before, have you?" he asked and Mercedes' expression swiftly changed to dawning comprehension and then extreme embarrassment. She looked away and shook her head.

"I'd never been kissed by anyone before last Thursday when _you_ kissed me," she confessed and Sam's heart clenched at the shame he could hear in her tone. He stepped closer to her tense form and grabbed her hands.

"It doesn't matter, Cede," he told her honestly and Mercedes shot him a look. She looked like she was about to burst into tears of humiliation.

"Yeah," she snapped, "It doesn't matter that I just freaked out when you tried to make out with me. I'm so pathetic that I didn't realize what was going on until I pulled away."

"Mercedes stop," Sam said firmly as he leaned over to try and catch her eyes. "I don't care about that."

And he really didn't. It didn't matter to him that she'd never made out with anyone before. He just wanted to be with her.

"I'm such a child," she whispered and Sam released one of her hands to touch the side of her face. When she didn't respond to his touch, he applied pressure until she turned her face towards him.

"You're _perfect _the way you are," he told her honestly and Mercedes looked at him in surprise. "At some point in everyone's lives—they'd never been kissed before either. It doesn't make you pathetic or childish." Mercedes looked surprised—and Sam was happy that he could make her see that she wasn't alone.

"I freaked out when I first made out with a girl," he admitted sheepishly—he could feel his cheeks turning pink and Mercedes gave him a small smile. "It just means that I'll have to teach you."

He could feel her embarrassment, but also how grateful she was that he didn't walk out of the door because of this. "Are you serious?" she questioned as she met his eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her nose.

He laughed when her eyes crossed and her nose wrinkled. "If I wasn't serious—I wouldn't have said it," he told her and Mercedes' brown eyes danced. He couldn't help the outbreak of butterflies that blasted in his stomach. He wasn't sure what he had done right—but if he could get that look; he hoped he did it again soon.

Their moment was interrupted by a door closing downstairs and a voice called, "Mercy, darlin'! Are you here?"

Sam and Mercedes looked at each other for a moment, and Sam took the chance to kiss her softly once more. Mercedes grinned at him when the kiss ended.

"I look forward to those lessons, Sam," she told him quietly and Sam's eyes widened at the rush that spread through his body after she spoke. He didn't know what it was about Mercedes Jones but she had him wrapped around her finger and tied up in a knot.

He wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts. Until next time! :D The lyrics in this chapter belong to the song "I Don't Love You" by MCR.<strong>


	20. Give Me A Reason

DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter.

Sorry it's late! I suffered from an extreme case of post-vacation exhaustion and writer's block. Haha. I'm leaving for a week in Iowa in less than 24 hours and I still haven't packed. Lol. I'll try to update while I'm at my brother's house, but I can't make any promises. Lol. Happy reading!

* * *

><p><strong>May 9, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**4:47PM**

Lynn wrapped Mercedes into a hug as soon as she appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "I've missed you, sweetheart," she told the girl and Mercedes laughed.

"You saw me at church yesterday, Auntie!" she replied and Lynn just squeezed her a bit tighter.

"That was a long time ago, darlin'," Lynn said and Mercedes smiled. Lynn pulled away from Mercedes and looked up at Sam, who was standing awkwardly on the stairs. She beamed at him and he blushed before giving her a smile back.

"Sam!" she greeted as she opened her arms to him. Sam walked into her hug with pink cheeks and Mercedes couldn't help but laugh.

Her aunt would be good for the Evans' family. She was so loving and accepting and motherly; just what they needed right now. She watched as Lynn pulled away from Sam and asked, "Have you seen your room yet, darlin'?"

Sam nodded. "I hope you like it—I only picked that one because the walls were red and Mercy told me that was your favorite color," she rambled and Mercedes had to bite back a laugh. It was so obvious that Lynn was just as nervous as Sam was about this whole situation.

She babbled when she was excited and nervous. "It's great," Sam replied, "Thank you for all this—"

Lynn held up a hand. "Don't start that now," she told him, "We were friends before this and we're friends now. I don't want you to walk around here kissing my bottom constantly for doing something that needed to be done."

Sam blushed, but he grinned at her. "Okay," he told her and Lynn smiled.

"What have you two been up to?" she questioned and Mercedes' eyes narrowed at the twinkle she saw in those hazel eyes. Sam's blushing distracted her though.

"I gave him his present," Mercedes piped up and Lynn glanced at her.

"The one with all the posters?" she asked and Mercedes nodded. "Did you like it?" she inquired of Sam, whose green eyes lit up with excitement.

"It was the best present ever!" Sam told them. He opened his mouth to say something else, but they were interrupted by the sound of a dog barking.

"Marley!" Mercedes exclaimed as she rushed over to the glass doors that opened to the backyard. She hadn't seen Marley in forever. The golden Labrador retriever was nosing the glass—most likely trying to get Lynn's attention, but when Mercedes got closer—the dog started barking like crazy and pawing at the glass.

She heard Lynn laugh from behind her as she pulled open the glass door. The dog came clambering inside noisily and practically pounced on Mercedes.

It was embarrassing to know that she was just as excited as the dog. She dropped to her knees and Marley wasted no time in giving doggy kisses as Mercedes pulled her into a hug.

She forgot about her audience as she cooed at Marley and scratched behind her floppy ears. She was brought back to reality by Sam sitting down next to her on the ground; Marley—being the curious dog that she was—trotted over to Sam to investigate this new person.

"She's sniffing me like I'm an alien," Sam said and Mercedes laughed. She watched as Marley circled Sam—sticking her head over Sam's shoulder and sniffing his back and chest and hands. She was being very thorough in this investigation.

"She hasn't been around very many people besides my family and Lynn—I don't think she's ever seen a white person before," Mercedes told him causing Sam to laugh, "So you kind of are like an alien."

"She seems to like me so far," Sam replied as Marley practically crawled into his lap to sniff at his hair. Sam rubbed his fingers through her soft fur and placed a kiss on the dog's head. Marley cocked her head to the side before she nosed Sam on the mouth. He leant away from her with a chuckle.

"I don't kiss on the first date," he told the dog and Marley barked at him. Mercedes couldn't help but smirk at the thought that he'd certainly kiss _before_ the first date if their interaction was anything to go by. "I'm Sam—and I hear that you're Marley."

He was talking to the dog as if he could understand her barking. Mercedes thought it was cute and Lynn apparently did too—by the way she was grinning from where she was standing. Mercedes and Lynn watched Sam and Marley get further acquainted for a few moments, before Lynn spoke up, "Have you guys done homework?"

Mercedes shook her head and Sam said, "Not yet—we just got here a little while ago."

"Well," Lynn began, "how about you two get your homework out of the way while I go do some more laundry?"

At the mention of laundry, Sam stopped playing with Marley and his cheeks turned red. Mercedes laughed heartily at his embarrassment. Lynn eyed them curiously for a moment, before Mercedes replied, "That sounds good, Auntie."

"Are you planning on staying for dinner, Mercedes?" The woman asked and the chocolate skinned diva shook her head.

"Mama is making a big dinner for my brothers' return home tonight," she replied, "I was ordered to be home by seven o'clock to help out."

"I forgot they were coming home today!" Lynn muttered, "I'll have to make them some of those chocolate chip cookies they like so much. Can you take a container home with you, darlin'?"

"Of course," Mercedes said and Lynn nodded.

"Alright—well, I'll leave the two of you to your homework," she told them with a smile, "I'm going to start those cookies and then the laundry; if you two need anything just holler for me."

Mercedes and Sam watched Lynn turn on her heel and move into the kitchen. Mercedes looked back over at Sam, who was absently rubbing Marley's head. Sam seemed to be good with animals and children. She wasn't really surprised.

"Let's go grab our books," Mercedes stated as she stood from the floor. Sam followed her lead after giving Marley another hug. "We can study outside on the patio table—it's nice out."

Sam nodded before he followed Mercedes up the stairs.

* * *

><p><strong>May 9, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**5:14PM**

"Do you think we should tell anyone?" Sam asked suddenly.

The question had been eating at him for the last couple of days. They weren't an official couple yet, and they hadn't even gone on a date, but they had kissed and admitted their feelings for one another. That meant something—_didn't it_?

"Tell anyone what?" Mercedes replied as she looked up from her Biology homework.

They had been working on homework for a total of about fifteen minutes before Sam got distracted by his own musings. He wasn't ashamed of how he felt for Mercedes, but he hadn't wanted to say anything until he was completely positive about _what_ he felt for her. But now—the situation had changed.

"About us," he said and Mercedes' eyebrows rose in surprise.

Things were different now. He lived with her aunt! That had to have changed the rules somehow. Their growing relationship would be more difficult to hide—especially because she and Lynn were so close, and Mercedes lived about ten minutes away. He felt weird that he'd be lying to Lynn if they had to explain something away. Just the thought filled him with guilt.

"Sam," Mercedes said—and he heard the undercurrent bite in her tone, "_We_ don't even know what _we are._ I mean—how are we supposed to tell someone else when we can't even define ourselves?"

Sam hid a wince. He was positive that Mercedes cared about him in a romantic way, but that didn't mean that she didn't want to be more than whatever it was that they were. She deserved the girlfriend title more than anything, but Sam was holding off.

Somewhere inside her—he knew that she was nervous about his hesitancy, and it made him feel like a jerk, but it also made him more determined to get this right.

"I'm working on it, Cede," he replied softly and Mercedes' brown eyes closed as she let out a sigh.

"I know you are, Sam," she told him, "but that doesn't make this waiting game any less terrifying for me. I just want an answer—one that comes with a title: friend or girlfriend."

His stomach clenched and Sam looked away from her. The silence between them became tense, but Mercedes broke it before an argument could begin. "I'm sorry," she said, "I don't want to rush you, but—even though I don't have any other prospects—I'm not going to wait forever."

Sam felt his eyes water. _Damn it_. He just wanted to figure his feelings out first. Or at least that was the excuse he kept telling himself.

"Give me until Saturday," he said and Mercedes stared at him.

"You want me to wait until the day of Nationals to get an answer?" she asked incredulously and Sam nodded. In his head, he was totally freaking out. "Okay," she replied, "We won't let this bring us down anymore. So no more talking about this until Saturday."

Sam smiled at her and she smiled back. He was relieved that he'd gotten time, but panicked that he had no idea what to do when Saturday came around. He really needed to talk to someone about this.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they did their homework together.

* * *

><p><strong>May 9, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**11:54PM**

Lynn was flipping through a huge book of fabric samples when Jeff ambled into the living room wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a black v-necked t-shirt. He sat down next to her on the floor and she noticed the plate in his hands.

She stared at it for a moment and Jeff blinked at her. "What is_ that_?" she asked—her voice tinged with disbelief and Jeff's eyebrows rose.

"It's a sandwich," he replied slowly and Lynn felt her lips twitch.

"That looks more like a mess than a sandwich, Jeffrey," she replied as she stared at his plate. The bread looked mutilated and there was lettuce everywhere.

"Hey!" he protested, "This is culinary genius on two slices of bread."

"It looks like it went through a chain saw massacre," she told him in amusement and Jeff pouted at her. She rolled her eyes as he picked at the mangled bread.

"I can kind of see it," Jeff said as he examined his sandwich. "I'm thinking more _Jeepers Creepers_ action here, you know—intense birdman pecking."

Lynn couldn't help but laugh and Jeff chuckled too. "You are ridiculous," she told him as she resumed flipping through her fabric samples. Jeff munched on his sandwich in silence for a few moments.

Lynn got absorbed in her work for a minute until she felt Jeff peer over her shoulder. "What are you doing?" he asked and Lynn jumped at the sound of his voice.

"I'm trying to find a fabric for the chair cushions," she replied, "but none of these are what I want. None of them feel right for the theme that I'm going for."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, Lynn," he told her, "You've done a great job so far."

Lynn sat back with a sigh. She knew he was right, but she sometimes hated finding things by accident. It made her panic and worry and stress about things not getting done when they needed to be done and she was not a fan of that feeling.

She rested her head against the suede sofa cushion as Jeff ate his sandwich beside her. Speaking of Jeffrey, she wondered where he had been that afternoon. He'd left saying he was going to pick up Stevie and Stacey, but he hadn't returned until right before dinner.

But she didn't feel that it was her place to ask. She wasn't his wife or girlfriend—she was his friend and Jeff was a grown man who could do whatever he wanted.

"Stevie and Stacey really love their rooms," Jeff said suddenly and Lynn grinned. Seeing their faces light up with wonder and joy made every cent that she had spent worth it. Stacey had even hugged her tightly when she found the brand new softball and mitt in her night stand. It made her feel warm inside that they felt comfortable in her home and she was happy that she'd been able to make their day. "They told me to tell you thank you again."

"I'm really grateful that you've done all this for my kids, Lynn," Jeff told her—and she heard the sincerity in his tone. "I don't know how I can possibly repay you."

Lynn waved him off. "I've got this all figured out," she said, "You and your family can live in my house for free until next January. I will pay for everything until then. In January, if you haven't saved enough to get your own place, I'll charge you four hundred a month to cover rent, bills, and food."

Jeff stared for a moment. "You're going to let us stay here for _free_ for seven months?"

"Yes," Lynn replied, "Sound good to you?"

"It sounds _great_," Jeff said with a nervous chuckle, "but a little bit crazy. How are you going to afford to pay me, open a brand new café, feed and house four other people, and take care of yourself?"

Lynn sighed. Maybe she should've told him about this sooner. "I don't see why it matters, Jeff," she said, "but I didn't spend seven years being idle you know."

How could she phrase this without him flipping out? "I own over a third of the Google Corporation and Apple, Inc." Jeff's jaw dropped and his eyes practically bugged out of his head.

She couldn't help but giggle as he choked out, "Say that again?"

"Before I found out about Davis' affair—I was really into the stock market," she admitted, "And I thought those companies had promise so I purchased a bunch of their stock when it was cheap. After Davis divorced me those corporations skyrocketed and I earned thousands within days. I don't have to work a day in my life, but I don't think money makes you happy and I want to. So no worries about that kind of stuff, okay?"

Jeff still looked like he'd been struck by lightning. "Why is it that you keep surprising me?"

"I would be boring otherwise," Lynn joked and Jeff shook his head with a rueful smile on his face. She was happy to see that he looked a little bit less guilty about the situation. Lynn refocused on her work as Jeff made quick work of his sandwich.

"I dropped by a law consultation firm today after I picked up the twins from school," Jeff confessed and Lynn looked over at him. "I had some questions about divorcing a wife who'd abandoned her family—especially because I have no idea where to find her."

That made sense. And for the first time, Lynn started to wonder about his divorce-could he even get divorced without both parties present? The dread built quickly in her stomach.

"And what'd they say?" she asked. Jeff let out a bitter chuckle.

"I outlined my potential case—abandonment, adultery, robbery, emotional abuse," he said, "And they told me that there was legally nothing I could do without her here."

Lynn closed her eyes—_damn it all._

When she reopened them; she could clearly see the frustration and anger on Jeffrey's face. Lynn dropped her fabric book and scooted closer to him until they were sitting side by side. "Are they positive that there's nothing you can do?"

"Well, there's one thing—but I'm not sure that I can," Jeff admitted and Lynn rubbed his arm soothingly.

"What is it?" she asked in concern and Jeff looked at the empty plate in his lap.

"If I actually try to locate her and still come up with nothing—I can present my attempts to a judge and he will decide if I can sign the divorce papers without her signature."

"That doesn't sound so bad," she told him and Jeff nodded.

"You're right, it doesn't," he replied, "The only problem is that I'm sure I could find her if I tried hard enough—I just _don't want _to find her."

Lynn wrapped her arms around Jeff in sympathy. Elizabeth had stomped all over his emotions, but to get away from her—he would have to confront her and he didn't look like he wanted to even think about the woman—much less have to actively search for her.

Sometimes she wondered if the Evans family would ever get a break.

* * *

><p><strong>May 10, 2011 (Tuesday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:03AM**

"What is all this?" Jeff asked as soon as he stepped into the kitchen. Lynn was in front of the stove wearing a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, a fitted light yellow t-shirt that had cool-colored leaves stitched up the sides, and some silver Toms.

He eyed the row of plates beside her on the counter and he noticed the toast and—_was that bacon?_ Jeff walked over to her and his eyes bugged out when he saw the crazy awesome looking breakfast she had made.

"It's breakfast, darlin'," Lynn said as she cooked up the last of the scrambled eggs and started separating scoops onto plates. Jeff stared as he watched her turn off the stove, run some cold water into the pan and put it in the sink.

"You cooked us breakfast?" Jeff repeated—still in shock. "_Why_?" he asked.

Lynn smacked him with the towel she was drying her hands on. "Would you stop gaping, Jeffrey?" she chided, "You and your kids need a balanced breakfast to start off the day. And I like cooking so there's nothing wrong with me preparing a meal."

"_Bacon_ is a part of a balanced breakfast?" he asked incredulously and Lynn quirked her lips at him.

"It's turkey bacon," she replied and Jeff smirked at her.

"It's still bacon," he said, "And you are totally in mommy mode right now."

Lynn's jaw dropped slightly and her hands fell on her hips. "I am not!" she protested, "I'm just helping out a friend's family. _Everybody has to eat_."

Jeff just stared at her in amusement. Lynn threw her hands in the air and said, "Stop smirking and help me carry these plates into the dining room." Jeff did as he was told, but he still smirked whenever her back was turned.

As Lynn set the table, Jeff went to round up the kids. It didn't take long to get them downstairs and seated at the table. They said grace and the meal was consumed quickly—with loads of thank yous from his children to Lynn. Sam complimented her to high heaven though and Lynn's hazel eyes were glowing with joy by the end.

"Alright guys—time to pack lunches and—"Jeff started, but Lynn interrupted him with a sheepish smile.

"I packed a lunch for them," she admitted and Jeffrey could barely contain his laughter. She shot him the stink eye and said, "Not a word from you!" He had to bite the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from laughing.

Lynn rose from her chair and herded the kids into the kitchen where she handed each of them their lunches—Sam got a plain new lunch box though. "There's a turkey sandwich, yogurt, a cookie, some veggies in a Ziploc and a bottle of water." The kids were staring at her in shock and Jeff was fighting to hold back his appreciation.

She was such an amazing woman. He couldn't believe that she was doing all this for his family—and no matter what she said; being a mother came naturally to Lynn. He watched her be embraced by Stacey and Stevie—and he couldn't imagine the happiness they felt at being able to eat real food for lunch.

The meager portions had saddened them often and to have a real lunch in their lunch boxes—it must've been a dream come true.

Lynn's fingers ran through Stacey's hair as the girl clung to her for a moment. "Darlin', you've got some serious split ends going on here," she said in concern and Stacey pulled back. Lynn knelt in front of his little girl and examined her hair. "It's getting pretty long, isn't it? And this damage could slow down your hair growth."

Stacey was biting her lip nervously and Lynn finally noticed. "Will my hair fall out?" Stacey asked and Lynn shook her head.

"Oh no, sweetheart," she told her, "It just needs a good trim and some strong conditioning."

His little girl had never looked more relieved. "How about this?" Lynn began, "After dinner tonight—I'll trim your hair and get it all healthy again. How does that sound to you?"

_Lynn could cut hair?_ Stacey's mind was apparently thinking the same thing as Jeffrey because she asked, "You know how to cut hair?"

"Sure do," Lynn replied with a smile, "When I was in college—my best friends had hair just like yours and we took a salon class together to learn how to take care of it. I cut their hair for years after that."

Stacey's eyes were bright with excitement. "I'd love that!" she cried and Lynn grinned at her.

"Alright then," Lynn said before she looked over at Stevie, Sam, and Jeff. "I can give everyone a hair cut tonight—if you'd like me to."

This woman just never stopped being amazing. There were enthusiastic nods from around the room and Lynn laughed. "Tired of having hair flop into your eyes, boys?" she asked teasingly.

"I don't know how girls do it," Stevie complained and Lynn laughed again.

"At least now you'll have a stronger appreciation for all the crap girls go through to impress you," she told the boy causing Jeff to laugh and Sam to grin.

"_Girls?"_ Stevie questioned, "Impress me? Ha!" The seven year old looked disgusted. "Girls are nothing but trouble."

"I'm sure they say the same thing about you, Superman," Sam said as he walked past Lynn after giving her a quick hug. That started an argument that could be heard all the way out to his truck. Jeff chuckled as his three kids bickered with one another.

Lynn looked over at him, before she tossed him a lunch box. "I even made a lunch for you," she said with a smile, "And the sandwich hasn't been murdered."

Jeff laughed on his way out of the door.

* * *

><p><strong>May 10, 2011 (Tuesday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**4:43PM**

Sam had to rush to his locker after Glee club rehearsal today. His mind was completely focused on catching Mercedes before she got to her truck. His dad had reminded him this morning that he needed to pack for his New York trip because he was leaving tomorrow, and that was something that Sam hadn't even thought about.

And he hadn't gotten the chance to talk to Mercedes this morning, because by the time his dad dropped him off—the bell for first period had rung. He would've asked her during lunch but he got sidetracked by his English teacher wanting to talk to him about the rough draft of his final paper that he'd turned in last week.

Apparently, he'd done much better than normal, but there was still room for improvement and she told him that if he made a B+ on this next paper—he would get a B in the class.

And that would be a dream come true. Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten anything higher than a C in an English class; and it was all because of Mercedes' help.

Their conversation took a while so he had been really late to meeting Mercedes in the auditorium and he only had time to scarf down the delicious lunch Lynn had made him and ask her for a ride home before the bell rang.

Glee club was a frantic mess of attempted song-writing and Finn/Quinn stare downs. Whatever Finn had done to Quinn—she was pissed as hell. And that small girl was terrifying when she was angry. No one had been able to get off task—and yet, all of their songs sucked something fierce. Mr. Schue had been a raging ball of nerves by the end of the rehearsal and he just let them go home because they weren't getting anywhere.

Now Sam had to find Mercedes to beg her for some help with packing. After dumping the books he'd need for his homework into his backpack—which was all of them because the teachers had given them their make-up assignments for the days they would miss—and slammed his locker door closed before he speed-walked down the hallway towards Mercedes' locker.

He reached her just as Mercedes closed her door. "Cede!" he called and she looked over at him with a smile.

"Hey Blondie," she greeted and Sam came to a stop in front of her. "What's the rush?"

Sam needed a moment to catch his breath and he said, "There's something that I need to ask you." He was too busy trying to slow his heart rate to notice the disbelieving hope sprouting in Mercedes' eyes. "Can you please help me pack for the New York trip?" he asked.

Sam looked up at her with a pleading pout on his lips, and even though he hadn't see the hope—he certainly saw the flash of disappointment that went through her brown eyes. For a second his heart stopped as he tried to puzzle out what she'd be disappointed about, before it hit him.

_She thought I was going to ask her to be my girlfriend. Shit._ The guilt was crushing, but Sam pretended like he didn't notice as Mercedes gave him a sarcastic look. "Can't you pack for yourself?" she asked.

Sam shook his head. "You know I suck at packing, Cede." He told her. "Organizing anything is not my strong suit."

Mercedes sighed and told him, "Fine!"

Sam cheered.

"But I get to make fun of your comic book boxers," she finished as she started walking down the hall. And Sam deflated.

"_What? _Cede!" he protested as he hurried after her.

Their afternoon passed in teasing—Mercedes made good on making fun of his superhero underpants—and chattering about the upcoming trip. It only took them about forty-five minutes to pack everything, and Mercedes had to leave to go finish packing her own stuff—or that's what she told Sam after they'd finished. He could tell that she was actually hurt over what had happened earlier.

Sam had leaned over and kissed her gently—hoping to soothe that hurt, but he couldn't tell if he'd made things worse or better. Sam watched her walk out of his room and he couldn't get her disappointed eyes out of his head. He felt bad that he'd accidently led her on. He never intended to hurt her.

He apparently did a lot of things that he never intended to do around Mercedes Jones.

* * *

><p><strong>May 10, 2011 (Tuesday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**6:04PM**

"How much is thirteen plus twenty-two?" Lynn asked as she sat next to Stacey at the island in the center of the kitchen. She had left Jeff at the shop around three because he was in the process of cutting wood for the bar and she had gone to pick up the twins from school.

They had spent the last two hours playing with Marley out in the backyard and Lynn figured that they should probably get their homework out of the way before dinner. She had brought them inside and then she went to start on dinner.

Imagine her surprise when the two of them wandered into the kitchen with their notebooks and worksheets and sat down at the kitchen island. They had worked quietly—sitting a seat apart on the side of the island farthest away from the stove.

She had been preparing the sauce to make garlic bread for tonight's dinner when Stacey had asked for her help on math homework. So she'd been sidetracked for the last ten minutes with helping the two of them. She looked up when Sam walked into the kitchen though and it wasn't hard to tell that he was preoccupied by something that was worrying him.

She frowned a bit, but forced a smile on her face. "Hi, darlin'," she said and Sam glanced over at her. He gave her a small smile as he made his way over. "Is Mercy still here?" she asked.

Sam faltered for a moment, but he replied, "No. She had to go home and pack for New York."

So this did have something to do with Mercedes. She figured, but she decided that she'd rather talk to him alone than ask him right now. So she went with the new topic. "Are you excited?" she questioned and Sam's green eyes brightened.

"Definitely!" he told her, "I've never been to such a big city before. It's going to be cool to see one of the most famous cities in the world."

"I've been to New York before," Lynn replied, "I actually lived there for a year."

Sam, Stacey and Stevie stared at her. "You did?" Stevie asked in awe and Lynn had to laugh at the surprise on his face.

"How was it?" Sam inquired and Lynn smiled.

"Wonderful," she replied, "But it wasn't for me. I had fun staying there, but I've found a home in Lima. While you're there—if you get the chance—you should go to Rosalinda's café. It's fairly well priced, and the food is incredible. I'll give you their address in the morning so if you find yourself nearby—definitely go and tell them my name."

"They would remember you?" Sam asked dubiously and Lynn laughed.

"Of course," she said, "I still talk to the owner's every few weeks. I used to be their star performer."

"Performer?" Stacey asked, "You sing?"

"Sing and dance," Lynn replied, "Dancing was my specialty, though. I did quite a few shows during my stay there. Every weekend I would perform at their restaurant. They say that I put them on the map, but I think their food did that."

Stacey was beaming. Lynn's heart melted at the interest she saw in the little girl's eyes. "Do you remember any of the songs you did?"

"Of course I do, darlin'," Lynn said dramatically, "I am an _artist_!" Stacey giggled at her antics and Sam smiled. Stevie tried to hide his interest as he glanced between his homework and Lynn.

"Can you sing one?" she asked shyly and Lynn blinked. She hadn't expected that.

"Right now?" Lynn responded. She hadn't sung in a long while—at least not in front of others. And she wasn't quite sure if she still had it. But the hopeful look on the kids' faces won her over.

_Damn those baby faces._

"I guess, one won't hurt," she said finally and Stacey clapped her hands together in excitement. "But after that, I'll have to explain the chore chart and you guys need to get your homework done while I get dinner started."

Lynn turned around on her stool and hopped down to the floor. She closed her eyes and tried to find the beat of the song that she hadn't sung since she was twenty-two years old—and she couldn't believe that had been twenty-one years ago. She hadn't realized that it had been so long since she graduated from college.

"_**Are you listening?**__**Hear me talk, Hear me sing. Open up the door,**__**is it less, is it more?**_" she sang. It had been such a rush—to just pack up her things and move to New York City fresh out of college. That same rush filled her every time she opened her mouth to sing. It had been far too long.

"_**When you tell me to beware,**__** a**__**re you here? Are you there?**__**Is it something I should know? Easy come, Easy go.**__**Nodding your head,**__** d**__**on't hear a word I said**__**; **__**can't communicate, when you wait**__**, d**__**on't relate.**__**I try to talk to you**__**, b**__**ut you never even knew, so,**__** w**__**hat's it gonna be,**__** t**__**ell me can you hear me?**_"

Lynn's hips started moving as Sam drummed his fingers on the counter to match her lyrics. She grinned at him as she voiced, "_**Hear me, can you hear me? I'm so sick of it,**__** y**__**our attention deficit. Never listen, you never listen.**__**I'm so sick of it,**__** s**__**o I'm throwing on a fit**__**. **__**Never listen, you never listen.**_"

"_**I scream your name,**__** i**__**t always stays the same.**__**I scream and shout, so what I'm gonna do now**__**  
><strong>__**is freak the freak out, hey!**__**Whoa oh oh, Whoa oh oh,**__**Whoa oh oh, Whoa oh oh oh!"**_Lynn danced around the kitchen island—totally rocking out.

"_**Patience running thin**__**, r**__**unning thin, come again**__**. **__**Tell me what I get**__**; **__**Opposite, opposite**__**. **__**Show me what is real**__**. **__**If it breaks does it heal**__**? **__**Open up your ear**__**. **__**Why you think that I'm here? Keep me in the dark**__**. **__**Are you even thinking of me?**__**Is someone else above me?**_" Lynn tore up that song as she showed Stacey how to do the wipeout dance. The little girl was giggling, but she totally joined in.

"_**Gotta know, gotta know!"**_ Sam was bobbing his head to the music—and when Lynn did an epic hip shake, he burst out laughing. The smile on her face widened as she heard his amusement.

"_**What am I gonna do?**__**Cause I can't get through to you. So what's it gonna be? Tell me can you hear me?"**_

Lynn grabbed Stacey's hands and started dancing with the little girl who joined in periodically—not knowing the words but having too much fun to not sing along. "_**I'm so sick of it,**__** y**__**our attention deficit. Never listen, you never listen.**__**I'm so sick of it. So I'll throw another fit**__**. **__**Never listen, you never listen**_."

"_**I scream your name,**__** i**__**t always stays the same.**__**I scream and shout. So what I'm gonna do now**__** i**__**s freak the freak out, Hey!**__**Whoa oh oh, Whoa oh oh, Whoa oh oh, Whoa oh oh ohhhhhh..."**_ She finished the song with a punch in the air.

The three kids broke into applause as Lynn tried to catch her breath. She jokingly bowed. "That was so good, Lynn!" Stacey said and Lynn had to smile at the girl.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she replied, "but no amount of compliments is getting you out of that chore chart." Lynn cracked up when all three of them made the same put-out expression. She took the next few moments to explain who had what job and how the entire thing worked. By the end of her explanation, the kids were fine with everything.

The twins went back to their homework and Lynn moved to start cooking dinner. She was surprised when she saw Sam watching her—a curious expression on his face. "What are you making?"

"Spaghetti, salad, garlic bread, and brownies for dessert," she replied and Sam bit his lip.

"Can I help?" he asked and Lynn smiled at him. She could tell that he wasn't in the mood to do homework and there would be plenty of time after dinner for him to work on it.

"Sure, darlin'," she replied as she tossed an apron to him. It took him a minute to figure out how it went on, but he walked over once he got it tied. Lynn had gathered everything she needed. "Have you ever cooked before?" she asked and Sam shrugged.

"The most I've done is microwaveable Mac n' cheese and making sandwiches," he replied. Lynn looked at him in amusement. If his sandwich making skills were anything like his father's, then this would be an interesting evening.

"Alright, well," she began, "You always want to start with the thing that will take the longest to make and that would be the spaghetti noodles. Can you grab that bag over there?" She instructed as she filled the pot with hot water.

"Rotini noodles?" Sam asked and Lynn nodded. "You don't use regular pasta?"

"I'm not a big fan of the regular pasta noodles, unless they're angel hair," Lynn replied, "It's a personal preference." Sam shrugged again and Lynn talked him through putting the noodles in the pot, salting the water lightly and preparing it for boil.

Once that was done, she had him pouring tomato sauce into a sauce pan while she chopped green onions, bell peppers, onions, and tomatoes. Lynn tried to show Sam how to mince and dice, but he was far too nervous and clumsy. She thought her heart would explode when he almost cut himself. She took the knife away from him as she said, "Alright samurai Sam, I think your battle is over."

Sam was embarrassed, but he couldn't help but laugh at the joke. He expressed his disbelief that she even knew what a samurai was. The teaching continued and after an incident where the noodles almost boiled over—Lynn realized that Sam would need a lot of help in the kitchen because he was currently a terrible cook. He had totally freaked out; thinking he had ruined everything, but Lynn only laughed and told him to calm down—it happened to everyone.

He was well aware of the fact that he was a walking disaster in the kitchen. Lynn only encouraged him to keep trying after she talked him down from his embarrassment.

Sam asked a lot of questions and Lynn had to explain about how different vegetables flavored different things. She had him taste a lot of the raw veggies so she could show him the difference between sweet, tangy, and sharp.

She had Sam pull out the brown turkey and she had to explain that it tasted very similar to brown beef but it was much healthier. Lynn taught him how to season the meat before they put it in the skillet to cook. He was a bit disturbed that she added soy sauce and honey barbeque sauce to the mixture of meat and vegetables, but she reminded him about flavor.

When it started frying, Lynn had a ball laughing at the terror on Sam's face as she let him stir the meat with a spatula while she sliced a loaf of French bread to make the garlic bread. She turned on the oven and made her garlic sauce with freshly ground garlic and parsley leaves and unsalted butter.

She pulled out two long pans and finally relieved Sam of meat duty. She talked him through spraying down the baking pans, and placing each piece of bread on them. Then she showed him how to spread the sauce on each piece with her brush.

It took him a few minutes to get the hang of it, but he did well. He was grinning like a loon once the bread was in the oven and sizzling. She had him stir the noodles as she put the pot on simmer and her meat on low.

Then they worked on the sauce together. Sam was in charge of stirring as she added vegetables to the tomato sauce. She even helped him add spices. He looked so proud of himself when they put the sauce pan on the stove that Lynn couldn't help but smile.

Lynn had just walked from the pantry where she'd gone to grab a box of brownie mix when Stacey spoke up, "Sammy, can you help me with this? I don't know what it says." She couldn't have imagined the flash of shame that slid across Sam's face, but he put the spatula down and walked over to his sister.

Lynn opened the cabinet and grabbed a mixing bowl from the shelf before her apron was tugged on. She looked down and saw Stevie standing there with a hesitant look on his face. "I finished my homework," he said quietly, "Can I help you cook too?"

Lynn's heart completely melted. It was official. Jeff Evans had the most adorable kids ever. Those blue and green eyes threatened to break her heart every time she glanced at them. She couldn't understand how Elizabeth had ever been strong enough to walk out on them.

"Of course, sweetheart," she said brightly as she placed the mixing bowl on the counter. "Dinner's all cooking now, but you can help me make dessert."

Stevie gave her a small grin. "Brownies, right?" he asked and Lynn nodded.

"Can you grab me the carton of eggs, milk, and a wooden spoon from the drawer over there?" she asked and Stevie nodded, before hurrying to do as she asked. His eagerness was endearing, but her attention was drawn when she heard Sam reading.

He struggled with the larger words on the page and Lynn took a chance to glance at him over her shoulder. His face was pink and she could practically feel the shame and humiliation rolling off him in waves. She looked away before he could feel her gaze on him.

She had no doubt that he was dyslexic. She would have to talk to him later on. But for now, Stevie was coming her way with their ingredients and he deserved her full attention as well. He placed everything on the counter and without thinking about it—Lynn lifted him up onto the counter by his underarms.

Stevie stared at her for a moment, but he was quickly distracted by the brownie making. She had him read the instructions on the back of the box. Lynn thought reading was important and there was no better way to improve than to work on it in practical situations.

They slowly worked their way through each step, and by the time they got to the last step—Sam had helped Stacey finish her homework. She had Sam pull out another baking pan and he showed Stacey how to spray the pan down while Stevie mixed the ingredients in the bowl.

Lynn then had Stacey and Sam grab graham crackers from the pantry and fresh strawberries from the fridge. While Stacey and Stevie crushed graham crackers for sundae toppings, Lynn had Sam slicing strawberries. She watched him closely to make sure he didn't injure himself.

She poured the brownies into the pan and spread it around evenly before she put them into the oven. When all the dessert toppings were made—she had them washing fruit for a fruit salad and Sam chopping.

Lynn was making a nice salad with organic lettuce and seasoned croutons for everyone when a piece of pineapple went flying. It missed her face by a few inches and she glanced over to see Sam, Stacey, and Stevie gaping in her direction, looking chagrined.

"It was an accident, I swear!" Sam said right before Lynn burst out laughing. The kids looked relieved before they started laughing with her. Of course this was the moment when Jeff walked into the kitchen looking worn out.

"Daddy!" Stacey said excitedly as she hopped off the counter to run to her father. He scooped her up in his arms and Lynn smiled as Stacey started talking his ears off about everything they'd done today.

Sam picked up the pineapple as Jeff made his way over to the three of them with Stacey on his hip. Stevie gave him a hug from his spot on the counter as Lynn pulled the bread from the oven and placed each pan on counter protectors.

She placed a slice on each plate before putting the rest on a big plate as the Evans family chatted. She turned off the stove and made up the spaghetti by straining the noodles and putting the sauce on the freshly buttered noodles. Lynn mixed the meat in next and put it all in a bowl.

She scooped some onto each plate along with some salad. When the plates were done, she was surprised when Sam grabbed two plates and Stevie grabbed forks from the drawer. "Time to set the table, right?" Sam asked and Lynn gave him a soft smile as she nodded.

Stacey got glasses from the cabinet and filled each with ice and water. Lynn felt like a proud mother—except she wasn't their mom and she never would be. For some reason, that realization hurt much more than she thought it would.

While the kids set the table, Jeff stood next to Lynn. "It smells amazing." He said and Lynn nudged his shoulder.

"You're just hungry," she replied.

"Of course I am," he told her, "but that doesn't mean that my nose is suddenly deceiving me. It smells like heaven in a skillet."

Lynn laughed as she wrapped him in a quick hug. Jeff opened his mouth and Lynn held up a hand to stop him. "You thank me again and I will beat you with my spatula," she said sternly and Jeff chuckled.

"Okay," he replied as Lynn took off her apron and followed the kids into the dining room. Dinner that night was a fun affair. Even better than it had been the night before.

* * *

><p><strong>May 10, 2011 (Tuesday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**8:05PM**

Lynn was trimming Stacey's hair while Sam lounged on the floor doing his homework after taking the trash out. Stevie had loaded the dishwasher with Jeff's help and Stacey had wiped down the counter and tables. Lynn started another load of laundry and swept the floors.

She clipped and snipped and combed Stacey's hair until she was sure that it was cut evenly and all the split ends were gone. She cut Stacey's bangs before she washed and conditioned the young girl's hair in the bathtub while Stacey wore her swimsuit. While she was letting the deep-conditioner soak into Stacey's locks, Lynn trimmed both Stevie's and Jeff's hair.

When the excess hair was gone, both of them looked relieved. Jeff's was the shortest of course and he loved it when Lynn was done. Stevie conned Jeff into reading a book to him and Lynn had to wash Stacey's hair out before she could get to Sam.

So Lynn rinsed the conditioner out of the young girl's hair and she put some Moroccan oil in it to keep the shiny and smooth texture as she brushed and blow dried her hair. Stacey's golden hair was gleaming by the time Lynn was finished and the girl absolutely loved it.

She took a moment to admire her new hair cut in the mirror. "I look so pretty," she whispered and Lynn smiled.

"You have always been beautiful, darlin'," she told her and Stacey beamed at her before throwing her arms around Lynn in a tight hug. She returned the embrace, before Jeff looked at the clock. It was just after nine and the twins still needed to shower and brush their teeth.

He herded them upstairs to help them get ready; leaving Sam and Lynn alone. She led him outside to the same place where she had cut his father's and sibling's hair. It was quiet as she got started.

* * *

><p><strong>May 10, 2011 (Tuesday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**9:13PM**

Sam felt Lynn's soft hands massage his scalp as she tried to get a feel for his hair length. It had been so long since he'd had a hair cut that it felt strange and when he heard the first snip of the scissors—he had to blink away a bit of shock.

"There something on your mind, darlin'?" Lynn asked as she cut a couple of inches off his hair. His head felt lighter already and the rhythmic snipping of the hair shears was actually comforting to the chaos going on in his head.

He hadn't been able to stop thinking about Mercedes since she'd left earlier that evening. She had looked so sad that he hadn't asked her something else that afternoon. She had tried to hide the disappointment, but it had flashed through her brown eyes and Sam had seen it as clear as day.

It made his heart hurt. He felt so guilty about making her wait this long. He was so up and down with his feelings and his actions that he was surprised that she hadn't given up on him already. But to visibly notice that his confusion and hesitance was causing her such pain—it made him feel like the worst _not boyfriend_ ever.

And here was Lynn—the woman who had taken his mind off of his relationship problem by trying to teach him how to cook—asking if there was something on his mind. When did solutions to his problems ever appear so quickly?

Sam knew that he needed to talk to someone about all of this, and the person he usually went to was the reason he needed to talk to someone. He'd considered his dad, but his father didn't even know that he and Mercedes were into each other—much less about them dating or _not dating_ at the moment.

_Should he talk to Lynn?_ She had been there before when he'd spilled all his secrets a few weeks ago. She was known for giving great advice and she'd always been patient with him before. But would she hate him for tugging Mercedes' emotions around like this? What if she kicked them out because she was angry?

Sam shook that irrational thought off quickly. Lynn wouldn't do anything like that, and he had the feeling that he was over thinking this way too much. But Lynn was Mercedes' aunt; fuck, he didn't know what to do, and if he didn't figure this out now—he probably never would.

"Actually, yeah," he admitted softly as Lynn moved to the side of his head. She trimmed some more of his hair off.

"Want to tell me about it?" she questioned as she combed her fingers through his hair again. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and noticed that she was concentrating intently on his hair as she snipped away split ends. "Or would you rather talking to your dad?"

Sam felt like his heart was in his throat. He was so nervous. He really liked Lynn, and the last thing he wanted to do was make her hate him, but he needed to get this off his chest. She was his only option.

"I'd rather talk to you," he confessed—his voice shaking and Lynn paused for a moment to look down at him in concern.

"Is everything alright?" she asked and Mercedes' disappointed brown eyes flashed through his mind. He shook his head. Lynn frowned in concerned and her hazel eyes focused completely on him. "What's wrong, darlin'?"

"It's kind of a long story," Sam told her, "You might want to finish cutting my hair first." He was totally stalling. Sam was mentally preparing himself to get reamed out by Lynn, so he figured he might as well soak up her kindness while it lasted.

Lynn's frown deepened, but she resumed cutting his hair. It only took about ten minutes for her to finish it all up and she brushed the loose hair off Sam's shoulders and neck with a small towel.

"How about we go sit in the porch swing?" she asked and Sam nodded. He stood from the chair and glanced at his reflection in the mirror. His hair looked great—almost exactly like he'd had it when he first moved to Lima. He was quite impressed.

Lynn was already seated by the time he shuffled over and sat next to her on the floral cushion. They swung in silence for a few moments as Sam tried to gather his thoughts. "I don't know where to begin," he said sheepishly and Lynn gave him a gentle smile.

"The beginning is often the best place," she replied and Sam nodded. He took a deep breath and let it all out. He told her from the beginning about how Mercedes had apologized and about all the things she had done for him. He told her about cleaning, and prom shopping. He talked on and on about prom and about what had happened after. He told her about their fight and the funeral and him kissing her. He talked about his feelings for her, and that was the hardest part.

Lynn just listened quietly and idly pushed the swing back and forth with her feet.

"I just don't know how I feel, you know," Sam said—his fingers picking at the loose threads on his jeans, "I know that I care about her in a romantic way, but I'm not sure if it's because it just happened that way or if these feelings are coming from me being so grateful for everything she's done for me."

Sam couldn't meet Lynn's gaze. He was so frustrated with himself. "She deserves _certainty_. She deserves someone's whole heart. And I'm not sure if I'm the guy who can give it to her."

"You certainly took a risk," Lynn said, "talking to me about this." Sam froze. He couldn't decipher her tone. Was she pissed? Was she sad? He didn't know. "But I'm glad you did."

His eyes snapped to hers and she smiled lightly at him. "I've known about you and Mercedes since yesterday," she admitted and Sam couldn't stop himself from gaping.

"How-?" he stammered and Lynn laughed.

"I was home when the two of you came inside the other day," she told him, "I didn't hear you at first because I was out back feeding Marley, and when I came in—I heard voices so I went to say hi. Only when I saw you—your lips were busy doing something else."

Sam blushed furiously and Lynn smiled at him. "Are you mad?" he asked and Lynn shook her head.

"No, darlin'," she replied, "And no, I haven't told your father." Sam hadn't even thought of that yet, but now that she mentioned it, he freaked out for a moment before he realized what she'd said. The relief he felt had him slouching into the seat cushions.

Now that he knew she was okay with him having feelings for Mercedes—he really wanted her opinion on the situation. So he asked for it and boy, did she give it to him.

"I think that what you're saying is noble," Lynn began and Sam nodded, "Noble but_ stupid_."

He blinked at her in shock and Lynn's hazel eyes focused on him intently. It made him squirm.

"What you're telling Mercedes is an _excuse_, Sam," she told him, "And you can have a thousand excuses, but still no _reason_. I want the reason that you're making yourself and her miserable."

Sam looked at Lynn, speechless. "I-I don't know," he said and Lynn sighed.

"I think you're afraid," she started, "I think you're terrified that you're going to get into a relationship with a girl who you never dreamed you'd ever end up with and she's going to see the fact that you're homeless, and poor, and motherless and leave you hanging."

His heart rate picked up as Lynn spoke. He could feel his jaw clench. "I think that you're ashamed of the fact that your family is having money problems, and you believe that Mercedes deserves better than whatever you can give her."

"She does deserve better than whatever I can give her," Sam snapped and Lynn gave him a harsh look. The fire in her eyes smothered any thoughts of yelling at her immediately. Lynn was a small woman but she demanded respect like nothing he'd ever seen before.

"She deserves better than what you can _give _her, Sam," Lynn told him firmly and Sam's heart shattered and the tears flooded his eyes so quickly that he didn't have a chance to stop them. Hearing what he'd been so afraid of spoken out loud hurt much more than he'd thought it would.

He turned away from Lynn—not wanting her to see him burst into tears like the pathetic crybaby he was. Her hand on his cheek stopped him and she forced his gaze back to her.

"But Mercedes doesn't want what you can give her," Lynn told him softly and she wiped off the tears that had escaped his eyes with her thumb, "_She just wants you_."

Sam stared at Lynn. "I don't understand."

"You've been so concerned about what you can give Mercedes, but you're forgetting that she has every material possession she could ever want," Lynn said, "She doesn't need money or gifts—she just wants your company, your friendship and your heart. And every time you push her away—she's probably thinking that you don't want her for those reasons."

"That's not true at all!" Sam protested and Lynn shushed him.

"I know sweetheart," she replied, "but think about it from her perspective. You've been giving her one excuse—and not the reason. She's giving you time, and from what you've told me—she _really _cares about you. Mercedes doesn't put up with snubs from anyone; and for her feelings to not be affected by that—she has some strong romantic interest in you."

Lynn's hand left his face and he leaned forward until his elbows touched his knees. He buried his face in his hands and just tried to sort his thoughts. When Lynn's hand rubbed soothing circles on his back—he let out a sigh.

"I'm an idiot," he told her and Lynn patted his back.

"No, you're not," she said, "You're just a teenager who has had to face some hard times. And it's okay to feel confused. You've been through so much in such a short time that it makes sense that something like this would be difficult for you to process."

"So what should I do?" he asked as he turned his head to look at Lynn.

"Take things one step at a time, and be completely honest with Mercedes about how you're feeling," Lynn responded, "It's never easy to put your heart on the line, but I know that Mercedes won't let you down. You just have to have faith in that."

Sam scoffed. "Faith? What good does that do anyone?"

"A lot," Lynn said sternly, "When you have nothing left—all you have is faith. It may not be in God or in people, but you have to have faith in something. And it may not make you happy all the time, but it gives you something to live for."

Sam could see the honesty in her expression and he nodded in her direction. "Maybe I should give it a try," he replied.

"You never know until you do," she said. There was a comfortable silence between the two of them before Lynn spoke up again. "And Mercedes doesn't care that you have dyslexia."

Sam froze. How did Lynn know that he had dyslexia?

He stared at her and Lynn gave him a gentle smile. "I know all the signs, Sam."

"Were you a _doctor_ too?" he asked with a sarcastic quirk of the lips. He didn't mean to be rude, but he hated his dyslexia with a passion. It always made him feel subpar. And to have someone he respected so much know about his weakness was humiliating.

"No," she said with a pointed look, "_I _have dyslexia."

"What?" he demanded and Lynn met his eyes.

"There's a reason why I hate doing my financial profiles for work—it's because the numbers get mixed up constantly and it takes me forever to get through all of the paperwork," she said, "You're not alone in this battle, Sam. And you are _not_ stupid."

Sam avoided her eyes. "I can help you," she told him, "I went through therapy for years over this and I know lots of ways to make things better for you."

His embarrassment knew no bounds. Mercedes and Lynn certainly had a knack for seeing right through him. But to have someone offering free help; was it even possible that this would get better?

"Can you _really_ help me?" he asked and Lynn nodded.

"It's going to take a lot of hard work, but I know we can make this slightly better for you," she told him, "It's not going to drastically change anything, but it will make it easier for you to read and comprehend. The illness will still impair you, but you'll know how to work with it more."

She stopped talking and Sam was left with his thoughts. He could open his life to a world of embarrassment and frustration and allow Lynn to watch him stumble and fail through all this or he could reject her offer and suffer in silence.

Mercedes' words from a few weeks ago popped into his mind_. It takes more strength to ask for help than to suffer in silence._ He could choose the easy way out or he could try and do something about it. Before he spoke, his mind was already made up.

"Okay," he stated firmly and the encouraging smile on Lynn's features made his decision seem that much more correct. Somewhere inside he knew that he had made the right choice in opening up to her. Maybe it was time that he started facing those inner demons that he'd kept buried for so long.

"But first—"he said, "Can you help me plan a date for Mercedes in New York?"

Lynn's hazel eyes lit up with excitement and Sam grinned back.

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><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until next time! :D The lyrics in this chapter belong to the song "Freak the Freak Out" by Victoria Justice. <strong>


	21. New York, New York

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter.**

**Congratulations to 3 who won the banner competition! And here's the next chapter. Follow me on twitter! I love talking! Just ask Keeponsmiling. Lol. **

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><p><strong>May 11, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**Lima Allen County Airport**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:02AM**

Sam's stuffed duffel bag dropped onto the linoleum covered floor with a soft thud. The Lima Allen County Airport was small and inconsequential looking—Sam never would've thought that he'd be taking a plane to New York City from such an ordinary place.

He especially never thought that he'd soon be stepping off a plane from this airport and eventually asking Mercedes Jones to be more than friends. He'd never dreamed of being a competitor in a nationwide show choir competition either. Goes to show where small dreaming can get a person.

He glanced around the small space—eying the ticket counters and the small contingent of travelers shuffling wearily towards the escalator that led to the airport security checkpoint; or so the blue sign above the moving stairs said.

For a moment he wondered where his friends were, but he recalled Mr. Schue saying they would meet up after they got through the security checkpoint. Sam took a deep breath and focused his attention on his family.

Stacey was the first to fly into his embrace. She clutched him tightly and he lifted her off the floor. "I'm going to miss you, Sammy," she whispered and Sam placed a kiss on the girl's forehead.

"I'll be back before you know it, Sunshine," he told her and Stacey sniffled into his shoulder as he placed her feet back on the ground. Stacey let him go and stepped back until it was just her hands twisting in the leather of his McKinley letterman jacket. Her bright blue eyes were both sad and excited as she met his gaze.

"Love you," Sam said and Stacey beamed.

"Love you too, Sammy." She hugged him once more, before she stepped away from him. He watched as she walked over to their dad and buried her face in his stomach. Stevie walked up and shamelessly hugged Sam.

"I thought you were too old to hug your brother?" Sam teased and Stevie blushed.

"That rule only applies when I'm around my friends," the seven-year old replied, "And when I'll see you in less than a day." Sam tried his best to bite back his amusement at that, but he knew he'd failed when Stevie rolled his eyes.

"Love you, Superman," Sam told him and Stevie swatted at Sam's hand as he ruffled the boy's locks.

"Yeah, yeah," Stevie groused, "Love you too." Sam laughed as his brother walked away. Jeff let go of Stacey and Sam come closer and hugged him.

"You be careful," His dad said gruffly as Sam embraced him. "Listen to your teacher and you know, sing your heart out or whatever."

It was obvious that his dad didn't really know what to say, but he appreciated the sentiment—even if it was awkwardly stated. "Okay dad," Sam told him before he let go.

"I love you muffin head," Jeff said and Sam gave him a sarcastic quirk of the lips.

"Love you too, dad."

Sam finally reached Lynn—who was standing next to his father. Before she could open her mouth and say anything; Sam had pulled her into a tight hug. She laughed.

"Thank you," Sam whispered, "for everything." He let her go after that and she gave him the softest smile Sam had ever encountered. He looked at them for a moment longer, before he turned around and hefted his duffel bag onto his shoulder.

With one last wave over his shoulder, Sam walked up to the escalator and got on. He made sure he had his driver's license and plane ticket in his hand as he rode to the top. As soon as he stepped off, he could see the Glee club. They were milling around in the small airplane shops, but Mercedes was standing by a huge potted plant sipping what looked like coffee.

He handed his ID and ticket to the security guard on duty and waited impatiently until the guy signed it and gave it back. It was torture going through the check point. Taking off his jacket and shoes and everything felt like it took forever—especially because he really wanted to talk to Mercedes.

As he walked through the metal detector, he finally got a clear view of her. And she looked beautiful. Sam hurried through putting his stuff back on, but he was slowed down by someone suggesting he gate check his bag—due to its size.

It took him a few moments to fill out the tag and slap it onto the duffel strap, but he was finally free to go talk to her. He sped over to her and dropped his bag right next to her. She looked up startled, but she smiled when she saw him. Regardless of the consequences, Sam swept Mercedes into a huge hug.

She gasped a bit before chuckling into his shoulder. _Man, she felt so nice._

He pulled back from her and asked, "What are you wearing?" Mercedes blinked at him before she glanced down at her outfit.

"It's my New York inspired outfit," she told him, "You like?"

"Yeah," Sam said, "but why'd you change your look?"

"We're about to go to one of the most famous cities in the world!" Mercedes told him with a laugh, "I can't just wear my normal attire."

"Why not?" Sam asked in confusion, "You're beautiful—you don't need clothes to make you that way."

The look on Mercedes' face was one of disbelief, adoration, and gratitude. "Thanks Blondie," she said softly.

_What did he say to deserve a thank you_? Sam nodded at her—unable to comprehend what just happened.

_Girls_; he'd never understand them.

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><p><strong>May 11, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**Flight 1746**

**Lima, Ohio**

**8:34AM**

Sam had been fidgeting since he sat down in the seat next to her. Mercedes had been surprised to see that they got seats next to each other, but she was happy about it. She watched as he fastened and refastened his seatbelt—tightening the strap more and more each time he glanced out of the window.

He had looked nervous when they first boarded the flight, but now he looked as though he was going to start hyperventilating. She waited to see if he would calm down, but when Sam picked up the emergency flight information card for the fifth time—she decided to interfere.

She grabbed his wrist as he fiddled with the card, and Sam looked over at her. "What's wrong, Blondie?" she asked, "You look like Armageddon is approaching outside of that window."

"I'm fine," he said and Mercedes' eyebrows rose. Normally she would accept that, but Sam's voice was an octave higher than it usually was. And he didn't comment on her Armageddon reference—now, she knew something was wrong.

"Sam," she said," Are you going to tell me what's _actually_ wrong? Or do I have to start guessing?"

Sam's green eyes avoided her gaze and she watched as a blush spread across his cheeks.

"Sam?" Mercedes asked and he let out a puff of breath.

"I'veneverflownbefore," he muttered and she gave him a quirk of the lips.

"Blondie say _what_?" she questioned and Sam's pink cheeks darkened to a bright red.

"I've never flown before," he admitted—his embarrassment heavy in his tone, "And I'm kind of freaking out."

That made sense. She felt bad that he was so scared. It definitely wasn't Mercedes' first time flying anywhere. On average, she got on about eight flights a year—not including return trips.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," she said softly as she tugged the emergency card out of his hands.

"Then why do they have all these signs and flippin' _emergency cards_ everywhere?" Sam hissed and Mercedes knew she had to calm his panic. "In case of a crash landing, water floatation devices can be used." She grabbed his hand and entwined their fingers as the plane started moving.

"It's just a precaution," she replied, "In case anything does happen they want you to be prepared. All airlines do this. It doesn't mean the plane is going to crash."

_Bad choice of words_, because she was pretty sure all Sam heard was plane and crash.

He paled and Mercedes hid a wince. "Listen—I've been in tons of airplanes and I'm still alive and kickin'," she told him quickly as Sam's breathing got shallower, "You trust me, right?"

Green eyes stared at her—slight panic blossoming in them, but he nodded firmly. "Everything is going to be just fine, Sam," she said, "You can hold my hand the whole time."

It took him a few moments, but Sam finally said, "Okay." She had never heard his voice so shaky or terse before, but he was still talking so that was good. His breathing had finally returned to normal when the plane began takeoff.

He squeaked and slammed his eyes closed as he tried to bury himself in his seat. Mercedes tried _really hard_ not to be amused at the sheer terror on Sam's face. She had never seen Blondie so out of it before, and his expressions were hilarious.

When he let out a whimper, a snort escaped Mercedes. One of Sam's eyes opened to shoot her a dirty look—which only made her laugh harder. He looked like he was going to say something when the pilot spoke over the intercom, "We're almost at 32,000 feet and it'll be a smooth ride with some slight turbulence when entering New York."

Sam's expression was disbelieving as he mouthed, "_32,000?"_ before he said, "And what the hell is turbulence?"

"We'll be flying over bad weather which may cause the plane to jerk around or bounce," she responded.

"Planes aren't meant to fucking _bounce_!" Sam stated in absolute horror. The look on his face had Mercedes practically falling out of her seat laughing. She heard some snickers from the Glee club members around them, except for Kurt—he looked like he wanted to puke from fear.

"Sam, look out of the window," Mercedes urged as soon as she could control her amusement.

"_Hell to the no_," the blond refused.

"Trust me," she said, "It'll be worth it."

Sam looked torn between fear and curiosity, but Mercedes' giving him the puppy dog eyes won him over. He inched his sliding cover open and hesitantly glanced out of the window. Mercedes could tell when he finally caught sight of the sprawling city below, because he gasped.

She leaned over his shoulder to stare out with him as the plane turned itself on a diagonal. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked and Sam nodded.

"I never thought it would look like this," he confessed, "Makes me wonder if this is what God sees every time he looks at us."

"Why?" she questioned—turning her head to look at the side of his face. His green eyes were full of wonder. She hadn't seen such awe in a long time.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Because now I can understand why he would love us so much," Sam replied quietly, "It's not perfect and it has its problems, but there's so much _more_ to it. Something that beautiful would be impossible to walk away from."

She could feel her insides melting and she knew that she needed to step back from Sam before she did something stupid—like kiss him on an airplane in plain view of everyone else.

Blondie may not know it, but he had some intense game. And he'd definitely won Mercedes over.

* * *

><p><strong>May 11, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**Times Square**

**New York City, New York**

**11:54AM**

Mercedes had never seen anything more beautiful in her life; the lights, the billboards, the buildings, the_ people_. Everything was just amplified here. The sight of Daniel Radcliffe's grinning face on the sign advertising his Broadway show made her heart flutter with excitement.

She could see bakeries and sushi restaurants, concert halls, and huge corporation towers. All of it took her breath away. She stared left and right—unable to find just one thing to look at for more than a few seconds.

Sam's laugh on her right hand side finally attracted her attention though. "You're going to get whiplash if you swing your eyeballs around any faster," Sam quipped causing Mercedes to smack him on the arm.

She shot him a glare before her gaze was drawn to a bus passing by with Katy Perry's face on it. The group had arrived in New York not forty minutes before. It had taken them what felt like forever to get their bags from baggage claim and then escape into New York City by bus.

Everyone had begged Mr. Schue to have them dropped off in Times Square, because the hotel was within walking distance. He had agreed—mostly because they needed a break for lunch any way. A hungry Finn was not a pretty sight.

"Can you believe it, Sam?" Mercedes breathed in awe, "The McKinley High Glee club _is in_ New York City. We're going to _perform in New York City_!" Her excitement was building so high that Mercedes couldn't help but squeal as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

Sam was staring at her in amusement, but he soon cleared his throat and stopped her with a soft touch on her shoulder. Mercedes paused—watching as the others walked to the sandwich vendor and began placing orders. She wondered why Sam would stop her now as she looked over at him.

Her eyebrows rose as she noticed how nervous he seemed. And for a moment, she wondered why he was blushing. She hadn't seen him do anything embarrassing. But now that she was looking—she realized that Sam had gotten a haircut.

"When'd you get that done?" she blurted and Sam blinked.

"Get what done?" he asked and Mercedes tugged on a strand of his freshly cut locks.

"Oh, my hair," Sam said, "Lynn cut it last night. What do you think?"

He looked hot, but that was probably inappropriate to say at the moment. She searched for other adjectives, but Sam's inquiring look made her rush.

"It looks sexy," she told him and then she was blushing right along with Sam.

_Good job Mercy, that was so much better than hot. Damn hormones._

"Thanks," Sam replied with a shy smile, but his green eyes were dancing with amusement. It was nice to know she could give him some confidence in spite of her mortification. She couldn't believe she had called Sam _sexy_—the fact that he was didn't bother her; she just didn't say stuff like that out loud.

There was silence between the two of them for a few seconds as Sam buried his hands in his jean pockets and shuffled his feet. She was sure that he had stopped her for something otherwise he wouldn't have done it.

"Was there a reason we aren't buying lunch at the moment?" Mercedes teased; still trying to figure out why he'd stopped her. Sam looked surprised for a moment before he spoke.

"Uh, yeah," he stammered and suddenly the nervousness reappeared. "I wanted to ask if you would—go on a date with me? Tomorrow afternoon?"

Mercedes felt her jaw drop. She had dreamed of Sam Evans asking her out on a date since prom and here he was—finally making a move.

"A _real_ date?" she asked and Sam nodded.

Her heart was pounding around in her chest and there was a legion of butterflies doing the mambo in her stomach. The joy and excitement was choking her and she could feel her eyes watering.

Sam, on the other hand, looked like he was about to pass out from panic.

"Yes!" Mercedes cheered and Sam fairly slumped in relief. "_Yes_, a million times! I would love to go on a date with you tomorrow afternoon."

Sam was bright red, but his green eyes were sparkling with happiness. She couldn't believe that this was _actually happening_.

It felt like a fairytale, but better because it was_ real_ and it was with Sam. And she had the perfect dress to wear!

For a few seconds they couldn't stop grinning like a pair of loons, but Finn called them over and they had to rejoin the group before anyone got suspicious.

Mercedes felt like a Christmas elf on crack as they walked to the sandwich vendor. She was so hyped up and excited that she decided that New York would be the beginning of a different lifestyle.

She wasn't going to hang at the back anymore. She had her dignity and her family and her friends and the greatest not-yet boyfriend ever—it was time she lived her life to the fullest.

_Thank you, New York City!_

* * *

><p><strong>May 11, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**The InterContinental Hotel**

**New York City, New York**

**3:52PM**

Sam had been doodling idly on his notepad for the last three hours as he listened to the horrendous attempts at song writing that were being passed around the room. He had been ecstatic when Santana declared it break time and he'd been able to convince Mercedes to move closer to him.

He told himself that it was because of the puppy dog eyes he kept shooting her behind Brittany's back, but he knew it was most likely because of the obnoxious number of texts he kept sending her asking if she would please, please, _please_ sit next to him.

His excitement for their date the next day was driving him to distraction. He and Lynn had stayed up pretty late planning it—and she'd helped him buy everything he needed, but he still had trouble believing that this was _actually_ happening.

Mercedes Jones was going on a date with _him_—a homeless jock with dyslexia—in less than twenty-four hours. Just the thought of it put an idiotic grin on his face; he'd already gotten some cross-eyed looks from Rachel and Tina because of his expressions.

At first, Sam thought if she was sitting closer to him—it would be easier to concentrate because he didn't have to swing his head around to keep glimpsing her, but he now realized that was a mistake.

She was sitting about a foot away from him on the edge of the bed. And he could smell the lilies and cinnamon.

He was pretty sure that he hated her hat—mostly because he couldn't see her hair and Sam would freely admit that he was slightly obsessed with the way it fell across her neck and shoulders.

He had to put his hands in his lap to stop himself from tugging the hat off her head. It didn't help that her hand was _right there_.

_Damn it._

Sam made himself look away as Brittany started singing. He finally listened to the lyrics of her song and his eyebrows furrowed. _She couldn't possibly be singing about a cup, could she?_ He glanced around the room and saw the same confused and disbelieving expressions on everyone else.

It was the look on Mercedes' face that almost made him laugh though. Her head was cocked to the side and her eyebrows were furrowed. He watched her nose wrinkle and her lips quirked sarcastically. Her whole expression said, "_What the fuck?"_

He had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from cracking up and hurting Brittany's feelings.

Mercedes glanced over at him and the amusement blossomed quickly on her face. As soon as Brittany turned around they fell into silent fits of laughter. _What would he do without Mercedes?_

Their giggles continued throughout the ensuing argument between their friends. Sam leaned over to Mercedes and whispered, "How much you want to bet that we're out of here in about two minutes?"

"What's the point of betting when I know it's gonna happen?" she responded and Sam grinned at her. He saw her straighten up and nod when Quinn looked in their direction; she glanced at him afterwards and he smirked in her direction.

She stuck her tongue out at him and he couldn't help but snicker. When people stood up to put on coats, he and Mercedes scrambled to follow them. They walked with the group as they filed out of the hotel room.

"We should check out the shops in Times Square," Mercedes said and Sam glanced at her. From what he'd seen as they came inside—most of those places were designer shops and he was barely able to afford the sandwich they'd eaten for lunch much less anything from those stores.

Mercedes looked up at him when he didn't respond. She must've seen the dubious look on his face because she spoke, "Don't worry, Blondie. I don't want to buy anything."

"Really?" he asked—_what girl didn't want to shop?_

"Yes, really," she replied with an indignant huff, "_I'm not Kurt_. I don't buy outrageously priced clothing when I can get something just as cute from Torrid." She nudged his shoulder with hers and finished, "It's not like designers like making clothes for anyone not Santana-sized anyways."

Sam eyed her—looking for any type of insecurity. When he didn't see any—he smiled as he nudged her back. "I prefer _beautiful_ over any particular size anyway," Sam told her and she glanced over at him.

The gratitude in her eyes was enough to make him blush. Feeling her pinky wrap around his only heightened the color in his cheeks as the group stepped outside and onto the streets of New York.

He hadn't even been there a whole day and he already loved this place.

Sam and Mercedes followed the group around Central Park, but the group slowly split into little groups. Somehow—Sam and Mercedes ended up with Mike, Tina, and Artie as they strolled around Times Square—just watching the people, taking pictures in front of statues and cracking jokes.

It was a great way to spend their first evening in New York City, but Sam was incredibly anxious about tomorrow. The date he had planned for Miss Mercedes Jones was awesome, if he did say so himself.

Sam grinned as they made their way back to the hotel.

* * *

><p><strong>May 11, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:32PM**

Lynn was in her usual place—sitting on the floor of the living room—but this time she was working hard on knitting a new sweater for Delia. She hummed to herself as she made each stitch—singing old Elvis songs and imagining herself performing one of them on stage.

She wondered how Sam and Mercy were doing. Lynn hoped that they were having a good time in New York. It made her laugh every time she thought about Jeffrey's face when the plane took off.

He had panicked the moment Sam disappeared on the escalator—telling her that his son would be murdered or robbed. It had taken her twenty minutes to stop him from marching up the stairs and demanding that Sam came home.

He acted like such a tough guy, but he was softer than a Pillsbury dough boy. She knew he was freaking out—Sam had never been in a different city than his father before and it was quite the experience for Jeff. She was sure that he would recover his wits soon enough.

That was why she told him to head to the shop and work on the restaurant. Working hard seemed to help him focus and straighten his thoughts out.

Lynn had picked Stevie and Stacey up from school. Stevie—whether he said it out loud or not—was very attached to his brother and she could tell that he didn't like Sam not being at home. Stacey was just heartbroken.

The poor thing made it through school, but as soon as she saw Lynn she burst into tears. She had wasted no time in scooping the child into her arms and trying to calm her down. It had taken her ten minutes to get the little one to sniffles, and she decided to get them home.

After all that crying, Stacey conked out in the car and Lynn put her in bed. She let Stevie do his homework in his room. Around five—she brought him a snack and she hadn't seen or heard from him since then.

She hated to see them so down, but Sam needed to live his life. He would be going to college in a year, and she hoped the kids would fare better than this trip.

Lynn's internal musings were interrupted by the sound of her name being called from behind her. She looked up and saw the top of a blonde head over the back of the couch.

"I'm over here, darlin'," she said and the head turned in her direction. She watched the small figure make its way around the couch. She wasn't surprised to see Stacey—or the fresh tear tracks on the little girl's face.

Lynn smiled at her and Stacey looked at her in confusion. "What are you doing?" she asked and Lynn blinked, before she realized that the girl was asking about her knitting.

"It's called knitting," she replied, "You ever tried it?"

Stacey shook her head. "I've heard of it, but I've never seen it before." Lynn made a snap decision and she patted the floor next to her.

"Come on," she said, "I'll show you." Stacey bit her lip, but she plopped down next to her on the floor. Lynn dug around in her kit and pulled out two knitting needles. It only took a few moments for her to explain the entire process to the small child. Stacey was very attentive.

It took her a few tries to get the stitch correctly, but when she did—Lynn's heart skipped a bit at the bright smile that crossed her face. "I can't wait to show Sammy!" Stacey exclaimed, and Lynn winced when her entire expression crumbled.

"You really miss him, huh?" she asked as Stacey's lips trembled. The blonde girl nodded before the tears started falling again and Lynn pulled the little girl into her embrace.

"How about we give him a call?" Lynn suggested and when Stacey's watery blue eyes looked up at her with hope—her heart fell into her stomach.

She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out her phone. Quickly she searched through her contacts until she found Sam's number.

"After we call him, how about we make him a present for when he gets home?" she asked as she handed the ringing phone to Stacey.

Her eyes lit up. "Can we make him a beanie? He loves those!"

And Lynn smiled. "Of course we can, sweetheart."

Stacey looked like she was about to say something else, but Lynn heard Sam's voice on the other end of the line saying, "Hello?"

"Sammy!" Stacey squealed and Lynn had to choke back a laugh at her excitement. She heard Sam chuckle on the other end. "Let me go get Stevie!"

Stacey looked at her with pleading eyes and Lynn nodded. With a shout of joy, the small girl leapt up and took off for the stairs—chattering into the phone the whole way.

Watching her—Lynn's throat constricted. She would never experience that type of childish joy from children of her own. Living with the Evans' children was bittersweet, but she wouldn't change it for the world.

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><p><strong>May 11, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**The InterContinental Hotel**

**New York City, New York**

**10:05PM**

After getting off the phone with his younger siblings—Sam had been in an excellent mood. He had been a bit annoyed by the conversation between the Glee guys about Finn and Rachel beforehand, but talking to Stacey and Stevie cheered him up.

And as he watched Finn do everything in his power to make Rachel happy—he was glad that he'd found a girl like Mercedes. She didn't ask him to change things about himself to make her happy. She wasn't demanding or jealous—well, she could get jealous but never about dumb things.

She trusted him with her heart and he couldn't be happier with how beautiful and amazing and laid back she was. High maintenance really wasn't his thing. He loved being with a girl who could play sports and video games just as well as a guy yet still rock a dress like nobody's business.

He was just so damn blessed that it made him smile as he watched Finn get burned by Rachel once again. He wiped the grin off his face because he felt bad for the guy, but damn if it didn't make him more excited for his date with Mercedes tomorrow.

He wondered how in the hell a homeless jock from Tennessee could have ever found a woman like Miss Mercedes Jones? But he wasn't about to complain.

_Man, he couldn't wait until tomorrow!_

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><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! :D Until next time. <strong>


	22. So Beautiful

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter. Lyrics belong to Superchick's song "So Beautiful".**

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><p><strong>May 11, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**Times Square**

**New York City, New York**

**11:53AM**

Mercedes and Tina walked arm-in-arm down the street. They giggled as they sidestepped other pedestrians dressed in various clothing—it went from business suits to neon colored dresses; Mercedes was having a ball commenting on the bold choices many of them made.

It had been a spectacular morning. She and Tina woke up to Rachel being hauled off into New York by Kurt and not much later, Puck had come to their room and swept Lauren off into the city for a day of mischief.

She and Tina had a good laugh over the amount of trouble those two would get up to when let loose in a city like New York. Brittany and Santana had gone to get breakfast, and as soon as Mercedes finished getting ready for the morning—Quinn had taken over the bathroom.

After fifteen minutes—she knocked on the door to see if the blonde was okay. She got a half-assed response about washing her hair. So Mercedes left it alone—deciding that Quinn would come to her when she was ready.

Quinn still hadn't come out when they left almost twenty minutes later. She and Tina decided to go exploring in New York, because nobody was working on the songs anyway. It didn't help that Mercedes was ashamed of the fact that she hadn't spent much time with Tina since the situation with Sam started.

But being with her now—cracking jokes and laughing—it didn't feel like it had been almost two months since they'd hung out together.

"New York is so beautiful," Tina gushed as she stretched out her hand to lightly touch one of the many designer store windows that was along the street. Mercedes eyed the manikins that stood behind the glass and had to grin at the strange mixtures of feathers and sequins. Kurt would love that place. "I don't see how anyone would choose _Lima_ over this place."

The Asian girl gave Mercedes a dubious look and she laughed.

Mercedes had told Tina many stories about her aunt's life in New York City, and the girl still couldn't believe that she'd moved away from all this to stay in Lima, Ohio. Mercedes didn't really understand it herself, but she respected her aunt's decision—after all, if she still lived here, Mercedes would barely know her.

"I'm sure she had her reasons," she replied with a shrug.

"But can you imagine living in all of this fabulous _all the time_?" Tina asked, "I think I would die." Mercedes grinned at her friend. If only she knew what Mercedes' house was like.

"Can we go get some lunch?" Mercedes questioned, "I'm hungry."

"Girls got to eat," Tina cheered. "Why don't we go to that old café that your aunt used to work at? She said it was close, didn't she?"

"Yeah," Mercedes agreed, "And she said that the food was bomb too."

She had talked to her aunt this morning after calling to ask what places were good for sightseeing. Lynn had all the underground city secrets, and Mercedes wanted to see the _real_ New York—not just the things tourists saw. Lynn practically gave her a list of things to do.

They had rode the subway and buses and walked all over the place this morning. And everything they saw was incredibly beautiful—Mercedes and Tina took so many pictures that Tina's camera was full and they were relying on Mercy's digital now. She would have to remember to do a memory dump before her date with Sam.

_And sweet Avatar_, if she wasn't excited about their date today—as in less than six hours. Sam had asked her to be ready by five for their date, and it was tearing at her to keep her excitement at bay.

She wanted to spill the beans and just talk about it with somebody, but she wanted things to be official between she and Sam before she started talking him up to her friends. She was thinking about so many things—her outfit, her hair, would he ask her to be his girlfriend? Would they kiss again?

God, bless her, but she wanted him to kiss her again. Mama had standards, but could anyone really blame her? Just thinking about it had fireworks flying around in her head and stomach. And yeah, she was still humiliated over freaking out when he tried to French kiss her, but practice makes perfect right?

And even though he'd given her a time—Sam was being tightlipped about where they were going. For a few moments, she wanted to try and coax the truth out of him, but then she realized that this was her _first _date and this was also Sam.

She wanted it to be a surprise, because that made it all the more special—and she knew that because it was with _Sam_ that it was going to be amazing anyway.

They had their issues, but he was an incredible guy. She felt blessed that he was even giving her the time of day. Sam could have any girl he wanted without even trying, but he chose _her_. And as she and Tina strolled up to the doors of the dainty Rosalinda's café, she hoped that she didn't mess it up.

"Welcome to Rosie's café," A young man greeted as soon as she and Tina stepped in the door. Mercedes glanced around the place and had to admit that it was cute. The walls were a soft yellow and the tables had cherry oak circular tops. Instead of chairs—each seat was an armchair with yellow and vertical lines as a pattern.

There were autographed pictures of celebrities lining the walls and the whole front wall was made of glass. But what really caught their eyes was the stage that stretched across the back wall—it had lights and microphones and a large television screen behind it. There was a black baby grand piano sitting on the marble flooring to the left with a vase of bold purple violets in the center.

A pianist was playing soft jazz music on the piano. The whole place had this old Hollywood air that made a grin appear on Mercedes' face as the waiter spoke, "Would you like a seat near the window or the stage?"

"Which view is better?" she asked over the sound of the music. The waiter shot her a grin.

"The one right in front of me is pretty amazing," he said with a wink. Mercedes' jaw dropped slightly. This guy was not flirting with her. Tina's amused grin on her right hand side suggested otherwise.

Mercedes could not believe this. Of course, as soon as she has a man—the boys start coming to her yard. Well, honey, sorry for you, but you're too late.

"We'll take the window seat, thank you," Mercedes responded tactfully. Tina started giggling at her snub and the waiter nodded as he picked up two menus and escorted them to a table. Once they were seated and they ordered drinks—both had waters—the waiter walked off to go help someone else and both of them started laughing.

"I can't believe he pulled that cheesy pickup line and expected it to work," Tina said in amusement. She leaned forward. "He's cute though. You should see what happens."

Mercedes laughed at her friend. "I prefer a guy who comes up with his own material, thank you," she replied—in her head she was totally thinking about Sam telling her, "_You must be my Marauders' map, because I've found everything I need since I got you._"

That line had her flustered for hours. She couldn't believe that he'd said that yesterday when they were only a foot away from Mike, Tina, and Artie. She'd wanted to kiss him so badly, but she resisted. Just thinking about it had her face heating up.

Before the stupid grin could form on her face—she looked at the menu. It only took a few minutes to decide what she wanted—and she definitely wanted their biscuits and gravy; good thing they served breakfast all day long.

She flipped the menu over and saw the advertisement for karaoke. "Hey did you see this?" she asked Tina, and the dark-haired girl looked up at her curiously. "There's an ad on the back for all day karaoke."

Tina gave her an interested look as she flipped her own menu over to see it. "Do you think people ever sing in the morning?" the girl asked and Mercedes shrugged.

"What are you-?" Mercedes started to ask, but the waiter popped up before she could finish her sentence.

"Have you ladies decided what you want or do you need a few more minutes?" he asked. Tina and Mercedes shared a look, before Mercy spoke first.

"I think we're ready," she said, "I'd like the biscuits and gravy."

"I'd like the vegetable pasta," Tina told him, and they both handed over their menus. Mercedes debated with herself for a quick moment, before she decided to just go for it. Life change, remember Mercedes, _life change._

"Is there _really_ all-day karaoke?" she blurted to the waiter. He paused and nodded.

"Of course," he said, "Not many do it before happy hour, but the option is always there. We've only had a few brave souls willing to stand under the spotlight in the middle of the day."

Mercedes looked at the waiter before she glanced at Tina. The girl's eyebrows were raised. "I think we should do it," Mercedes stated and Tina's jaw dropped a little.

"Wha—_sing_?" Tina stuttered, "Right now? _Here_?"

"Well, yeah," Mercedes replied.

"_Why?"_

"Why not?" she said, "We're in _New York_, Tina—for _five _days. When are we ever going to get the chance to say that we sang karaoke in New York City in the middle of the day again?"

Tina blinked in shock and Mercy could see the hesitance warring with that irrefutable fact. "We can have our own solos," she said and Mercedes grinned.

"That just makes it an even more obvious choice," the chocolate-skinned diva replied. Tina put her napkin on the table.

"I'm in." They both laughed, before Mercedes turned back to the waiter.

"We'd like to sing now, please," she told him and the waiter smiled.

"Follow me then, ladies," he said.

The nervous energy built in her stomach as she and Tina were led to the stage. She couldn't believe that she was actually about to do this. The eyes of the other patrons were following them—she could see the interest shining in their gazes.

"Why did you talk me into this again?" Tina asked under her breath as the chatter of the other guests picked up as the waiter spoke to the guy at the piano.

"Because we both secretly want to be rock stars, and _damn it_—I'm going to have my moment right now," Mercedes replied. Tina grinned.

"Good point."

They were handed microphones and a songbook. It took them about five minutes before they chose "So Beautiful" by Superchick. It felt like the right song for this moment. It wasn't until they were both onstage and facing the restaurant that they realized how many people were there. Pretty much all of the tables were filled—and the place was a decent sized restaurant—only one or two empty in between each place.

From her spot—she had a clear view of their table and the streets of New York. When the music started playing—it got really quiet and Mercedes could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

Tina was looking just as panicked as her, but this was_ it_—she was not going to let this opportunity to walk away from her_. Oh, hell to the no._

Mercedes grabbed Tina's hand with her own and they shared a shaky smile—before they opened their mouths and started singing along with the lyrics on the screen, "_**We are a thousand voices strong**__**. **__**We are each girl who sings this song**__**. **__**We are a beauty that's our own**__**."**_ The words were so powerful that they touched something inside of Mercedes, "_**And we are**__**, a**__**nd we are**__**so beautiful."**_

She sang by herself for the first verse, "_**We are light**__**. **__**We were born beautiful.**__**We were meant to be more then these shadows of girls,"**_ and she could feel that_ something_ building stronger than her nervousness. They had truly picked the perfect song for them. Her body moving to the beat, Mercedes pulled the microphone from the stand and voiced, "_**They cut us down to size.**__**Afraid we'll change the world?**_"

She could see the smile forming on Tina's face as she started getting into the song too. Mercedes continued singing—her voice growing stronger with each line. "_**But we'll fight for your right to be beautiful girls.**__**If every girl could see her beauty,**__** w**__**e would be an army!**_"

Mercedes was full out dancing now as she and Tina sang the chorus again, "_**We are a thousand voices strong!**__**We are each girl who sings this song!**__**We are a beauty that's our own!**_" The clapping started so suddenly that it took Mercedes by surprise, but when she looked over and saw Tina leading everyone it made sense and she couldn't help but beam at her friend. "_**And we are**__**, a**__**nd we are**__** s**__**o beautiful!**_"

The instrumental solo played and she and Tina danced together onstage—completely getting into the performance. She laughed when Tina shook the hair out of her ponytail and tugged the microphone out of the stand as she began her solo. And girl sounded some kind of amazing.

"_**We**_ _**have dreams we were born to fulfill. We were meant to be more than just fairy tale girls**_," she sang as she walked towards the edge of the stage and diva-ed herself to the max—head swinging, hip shaking, body rocking, and knees bouncing. "_**We are the colors so bright**__**-**__**each beautiful girl.**__**We are the stars in the night**__** a**__**nd we are changing the world**_!"

Her hand was thrown out to the side as she danced her way to the opposite side of the stage—her and Mercedes switching places. Mercedes encouraged the audience as she smiled and danced. "_**When every girl can see her beauty we will be an army**_!"

Mercedes rejoined Tina in the song and their voices rang with power and joy as they chorused, "_**We are a thousand voices strong!**__**We are each girl who sings this song!**__**We are a beauty that's our own! And we are, and we are so beautiful**_!"

Mercedes and Tina walked off stage and into the audience where people were dancing in their seats. They got down in the aisles as the instrumental played in the background. Tina was getting down on her side of the room—hair flipping and shimmying like a mad woman, but she looked good doing it. Mercedes was shaking what her mama gave her and loving every moment of it.

"_**So beautiful!"**_ Mercedes sang and tossed her locks all about her head, before pulling some serious dance moves that got her a cheer from the audience.

"_**So beautiful**_!" Tina voiced as she twirled her hips causing the cotton and lace black dress she was wearing to flare.

"Sing it with us!" Mercedes cheered and to hear the enthusiastic clapping and echoing of their audience made the blood rush through her veins. Man, if this was what it felt like to be a rockstar—then Mercedes knew what she wanted to be after school. "_**We are a thousand voices strong!**__**We are each girl who sings this song!**__**We are a beauty that's our own!**_"

Mercedes and Tina danced their way back to the stage and when they got under the stage lights—they jumped together with the beat of the song. "_**And we are, **__**a**__**nd we are**_," they sang loudly and powerfully. They threw a fist pump in the air as they yelled the last line, "_**So beautiful!" **_

They broke into laughter as they hugged each other in joy. Mercedes' eyes watered when they both turned to look at the room and saw every person in the restaurant on their feet—clapping and cheering.

The pixie haired girl at the front table was screaming, "That was _awesome_! That was so _ridiculously awesome_!"

It took Mercedes a moment to recognize the girl, and her heart almost stopped. She and Tina had performed in front of Emma Watson!

_Holy shitballs! _

When Tina's eyes almost popped out of her head—Mercedes knew that her friend had seen her too. They looked at each other in disbelief before both Mercedes and Tina started screaming.

_Only in New York City would something like that happen._

_Could this day possibly get any better? _Their standing ovation continued as they walked off the stage—getting nods and smiles and pats on the back as they made their way to their table. When they passed Emma though, they just had to stop and ask for a photo.

She was just as happy to meet them too, though. "This is going on my twitter! And I hardly ever tweet things, but you two were bloody fantastic!" she gushed.

Tina was blushing and Mercedes was freaking out. She freakin' loved New York City, and Sam was going to flip his shit when she showed him this picture. He was such a Harry Potter fanboy—though he did love Avatar more.

The two friends sat down at their table—still laughing like idiots and fangirling over Emma Watson. Their meal was full of giggles and excited chatter.

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><p><strong>May 11, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**The InterContinental Hotel**

**New York City, New York**

**2:57PM**

They talked up a storm as they made their way back to the hotel room. The morning had been so incredibly epic that Mercedes was afraid nothing could make her happier.

As soon as they stepped out of the elevator—Tina was swept into a twirling hug by Mike.

Mercedes smiled as the boy tossed her giggling friend over his shoulder and walked back into the elevator. "Bye Cede!" Tina called through the closing elevator doors. "Love you girl!"

"Bye Tina! Love you too!" Mercedes yelled back and she shook her head as the doors shut. They were such a cute couple. Mike was crazy and he made her laugh every time they talked. She was so happy for Tina having found a guy that treated her like a princess.

She walked down the hall and was less than three feet away from the girls' hotel room when the door swung open. Santana and Brittany had an arm through each of Quinn's and Mercedes noticed the tear tracks on the blonde's face.

She didn't mention it though, because Santana said, "Bye Wheezy!"

"Where are you guys going?" Mercedes asked and Brittany smiled.

"We're going to a hair salon," she replied, "I _love_ hair salons."

Mercedes gave a soft laugh at that, before replying, "Well, have fun."

Santana was already dragging Quinn and Brittany down the hall. "We will!"

"Bye Mercy!" Brittany called over her shoulder.

Mercedes sighed as she stared at the back of Quinn's bowed head. That was a bucket of worms she didn't want to open in the middle of her high-on-life wave, but Quinn was family and she had to get to the bottom of this.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. She dug through her purse frantically when she recognized the ringtone she had selected for Sam. When she lifted it out of her bag—it was already on the second verse of "Play that Funky Music White Boy".

She answered it quickly as she scanned the keycard in the hotel door. It opened with a click as she said, "Hey Blondie." Mercedes stepped into the room and dropped her bag on the table next to the door.

"Hi Nala," Sam replied and her nickname put a cheek-painful smile on her face as she kicked off her shoes and plopped down on the bed.

"What's up?" she asked.

"I was calling to let you know that I would meet you at five o'clock on the front steps of the hotel," he said and Mercedes had to bite her lip to hide her squeal. She glanced over at the clock and realized that she and Tina had been out for longer than she first thought. It was almost three o'clock in the afternoon.

"Should I wear anything in particular?" she asked as she mentally went through the outfits she'd brought with her.

"You can wear whatever you'd like," Sam said.

"Even pajamas?" she teased.

"I bet you'd look awesome in pajamas," he replied immediately, "You could make the footie pajamas look sexy."

Mercedes laughed. "Boy, _please_," she told him, "I'm not going on this date in my pajamas."

Sam chuckled on the other end. And damn if he didn't sound sexy as hell. Her heart was pounding in her chest. "I should let you get ready."

"Okay," she replied.

They hung up with soft goodbyes and Mercedes let out a short scream of excitement. She took the liberty of enjoying her alone time in the suite by jumping on the bed and doing a happy dance. Then she realized that she had less than two hours to get ready and decided to get down to business. But not before she started uploading her pictures from her camera and onto her laptop.

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><p><strong>May 11, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**The InterContinental Hotel**

**New York City, New York**

**4:53PM**

It took her what felt like forever to get ready—shower, shave, washing and drying and doing the hair, moisturizing, putting on makeup, and then getting dressed, but looking at herself now—it was worth every minute of it.

She wore a soft blue cotton dress that had an empire waist formed by a dark blue silk band tied under her cleavage that ended in a bow at her back. It also had a sweetheart neckline with two wide straps that stretched over her shoulders. The dress led down to a blowy A-line skirt that stopped just above her knees. Her flats were a pair of metallic gray ballet flats that had ribbons tied up to her calves.

Mercedes' hair was down and curled loosely. Her bangs draped across her forehead softly and she wore silver stud earrings with no other jewelry. She smiled before she packed her phone and wallet and room key into her purple pea coat pocket. She slung it over her arm after spraying a light lily scented perfume onto her wrists and neck.

She glanced at herself in the mirror once more, before she opened the door and walked out of the door. When she stepped out of the elevator, she saw Mr. Schue at the bar. Mercedes hurried past him—hoping to everything that was holy that he wouldn't see her.

She was giggling to herself when she stepped out of the door. As she turned towards the steps she was blasted in the face by a gust of wind that had her eyes watering. Once her vision cleared, she saw Sam and her breath was taken away.

He wore a pair of fitted charcoal gray pants and a white button-up shirt that clung to the muscles of his arms and back. _Holy cow, he was sexy._

Was she really about to go out with a man that could double as a super model?

Mercedes couldn't believe her luck.

If the way Sam looked wasn't enough to bring her to her knees, then the bouquet of sunflowers in his hand was. She couldn't believe that he'd remembered her favorite flower and she had to admit—seeing Sam's jaw drop and his green eyes glow with admiration as she moved closer—gave her a confidence boost like no other.

* * *

><p>Sam couldn't stop himself from staring at her. He'd noticed her right away as she walked out of the doors of the hotel—giving the doorman a soft smile before starting down the stairs. That <em>dress<em>, _her hair,_ the evening sunlight making her skin look like it was glowing—_sweet Avatar_, he was sure he was dead.

The way the blue of her dress made her complexion shimmer or maybe that was some special lotion or something, but fuck all if she didn't look like an angel in that dress; an angel with some seriously sexy curves.

He made an effort to not be a pervert, but Mercedes' boobs looked like two perky spots of _awesome_ in that dress. It hugged her in all the right places and made those right places look like the most incredible places on the face of the earth. Sam didn't even understand his own thoughts—there were no words to describe her as she walked closer to him—the smile on her face outshining the sun.

Her_ legs_ in those shoes and the way the dress blew in the slight breeze and how her hair tumbled over her shoulders in those pretty curls that weren't ringlets, but were just the right amount of curly that Sam liked on a girl. Her nose ring glinted in the light and her face looked beautiful.

He was literally speechless as he studied her. She stopped one step above where he was standing and Sam couldn't speak as he looked into her brown eyes. They were sparkling with joy and he would do anything to keep the look on her face just the way it was.

She looked perfect to him—_for him_. He didn't want to stop looking. But he remembered the flowers in his hand—her favorite he knew—that Lynn had helped him get at a discount over the phone last night. And he jerked his hand up—almost hitting her in the face.

She laughed as his face turned bright red with humiliation. "Sorry," he muttered, "but uh, these are for you."

The smile on Mercedes' features widened slightly as he gently handed them to her. "Thank you," she replied, her voice soft, "They're_ beautiful_. No one's ever gotten me flowers before."

Sam's throat tightened at that admission. _How had this spectacular creature not been taken?_ Seeing the excitement and awe on her face made him even more determined to make this night amazing for her.

"Well, now you can never say that again," Sam told her before taking her right hand in his and lifting it to his lips. He placed a soft kiss on her knuckles and said, "You look stunning tonight, Mercedes. I'd be jealous of myself if I was any other man."

Mercedes looked flustered before she let out a laugh.

"Boy, you are too much," she replied—her voice shaky. He could tell that she was trying to maintain her composure, but the tears in her eyes said it all. Being told you were beautiful by family was completely different than someone else saying it and seeing her gratitude was enough to convince him that he needed to tell her every day. _She deserved it._

Gently he tugged her down the steps before he released her hand. Once she was beside him, he extended his elbow and said, "Shall we?"

The amused glint of Mercedes' brown eyes wasn't his only clue as to how much she was enjoying this, but it was definitely his favorite. She placed her hand into the crook of his elbow with a smile before they walked forward down the rest of the steps.

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><p><strong>May 11, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**High Line Park**

**New York City, New York**

**5:22PM**

They had been walking for twenty minutes—Mercedes' brain going into overdrive. She couldn't believe that all this was happening to her. Sam had been the epitome of sweet since she'd seen him. He'd made her laugh and smile the whole time, and even though he was being gentlemanly—he blushed every time she complimented him.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going, Sam?" she asked finally—the curiosity was killing her. It was too early for dinner, or at least she thought, but they seemed to be walking away from the higher-priced restaurants.

"Well," he said as he walked her across a crosswalk and then he stopped. "We're here." Mercedes blinked and looked up at the entranceway. There was a fancy sign declaring the area and beyond it she could see what looked like an old railway made into a garden.

"Welcome to High Line Park," Sam told her as he walked her through the wrought iron gates. "Lynn told me that Central Park was great, but this place was where the real beauty was."

Mercedes was a tad skeptical and it said a lot to her about their relationship when Sam noticed it.

"Just give it a chance?" he asked and seeing the pleading look in his eyes had her nodding before she'd even thought about it.

And as they walked through it—Mercedes found herself falling in love with the place. It was gorgeous beyond all words. The rusted railways and the greenery that grew in between each bracket contrasted each other and the beauty of it was ethereal.

She felt like she was walking in a fairytale as Sam told her all about his day. He had her laughing when he said that he'd hung out with Finn and the two of them actually managed to have a legit good time.

"What did you guys do?" she asked.

"We went down to Madison Square Garden and were able to go inside and look around," Sam replied, but a blush was slowly appearing on his cheeks and she knew he was holding back.

"Uh-huh," she told him, "I'm sure that's _all_ you two did."

Sam's blush darkened. "What do you mean?" he responded.

"All I'm saying is that before today—you didn't have much to say about Finn and when you did not much of it was great," Mercedes began, "but now, you're practically singing him praises. I'm just a bit suspicious of the sudden change."

She glanced over at Sam, and his cheeks were bright red. He could never lie to her with a straight face. "We _might have_ taken brooms onto the ice and used a pair of socks as a hockey puck to pretend like we were rivaling teams in the NHL."

Mercedes couldn't stop herself from laughing and Sam's blush turned an even darker shade of red. "I'm a nerd," he said, "I know."

Mercedes grabbed his hand and tangled their fingers together. "But you're my nerd," she told him, "And I wouldn't want you any other way." Sam grinned down at her and Mercedes felt her own blush building as their eyes met for a few moments.

She wondered if she should kiss him or if he would kiss her, but the moment was broken when another couple burst out laughing. They shared a smile as they continued walking. As they moved along, their conversation picked up again.

Sam told Mercedes about the last few days of living at Lynn's house and how his little brother and sister missed him— and that they constantly asked Sam about her. Mercedes had to smile at that. She loved his siblings to pieces. She and Stacey were practically BFFs. The little girl took every chance she got to talk about her friends and all the boyfriend/girlfriend drama going on at her school.

Of course, Mercedes had thought that didn't start until at least high school, but she knew that she was a late bloomer and had no place to judge. She just made sure that Stacey knew that she had her whole life to worry about boys and dating— and that she should enjoy her childhood.

Mercedes was grinning at Sam by the time he stopped mooning over Lynn and how amazing she was.

"You totally have a cougar-crush, Blondie," she teased and Sam froze.

"I do not!" he replied quickly, "She's just really pretty and smart and—"Mercedes burst out laughing and Sam stopped himself.

"You're digging yourself into a mighty fine hole there, Sam," she told him in amusement and Sam's cheeks turned red again. She wondered how many times she could get him to blush tonight.

"I kinda did when I first met her, but now," Sam started, "now, I just really respect her."

Mercedes couldn't help but feel her heart swell at his words. "Lynn is incredible."

"She's been through so much and even though she's not perfect—she works so hard," Sam admitted—swinging their entwined hands between them, "And she's something to look up to. I mean—even without you having told me her story; she was this amazing woman, but interacting with her after hearing all that she's gone through—I just can't help but be in awe of her."

Their conversation continued as they moved through the park—seeing the coastline from the edge of it all. Mercedes turned around once they reached the end—and watching the sunset over High Line was breathtaking. Sam squeezed her hand.

"It's symbolic, you know," he told her quietly. Mercedes looked up at him—she could see the pain in his eyes. "This old railway was broken down and abandoned—it wasn't wanted and served no purpose, but someone extraordinary came along and decided to make it beautiful—even more beautiful than it was before."

He looked so inspired—so in tune with his feelings that Mercedes felt her own heart break for him. She understood his symbolism. He thought that old railway was _him_, and it made her look at this park in a completely different way.

"It gives you hope, doesn't it?" she asked and Sam looked down at her. Those green eyes threatened to fill her with so much emotion that she felt her knees wobble—there was love, happiness, anger, sadness and hope in his gaze. She could feel it all the way down to her toes.

"Yeah, it does," he replied, "It makes me believe that my life will change for the better—even though it will be slow and painful and I'll have people try to shut me down and tell me it's impossible. You have to have faith in something, right?"

Mercedes stared at him and Sam leaned forward to place a soft kiss on her lips. Just that momentary kiss set her whole body on fire. Her heart pounded as he rested his forehead against hers. "It'll be a long way before your life is made whole again, but you can do it, Sam," she whispered and Sam smiled slightly.

"I'm with you, aren't I?" he asked rhetorically, "So it seems like I'm off to a great start." And her heart exploded. _How was this guy even real?_

God had blessed her ten times over when he brought Sam Evans into her life. She couldn't resist rising onto the balls of her feet to place a kiss on Sam's mouth. No one could've resisted—it was impossible.

They stepped out of their embrace and headed towards the exit of the park—Sam's arm thrown over her shoulders and her arm around his waist. Sam glanced down at his watch as Mercedes sniffed the bouquet of sunflowers in her free hand.

She still couldn't believe it.

"Wow, it's almost eight thirty," Sam said in surprise.

"Excuse me?" Mercedes questioned—her tone full of disbelief. _Had they really been walking around High Line Park for that long? _

Sam showed her his watch and she gaped. No wonder she was hungry! Sam bit his lip as he glanced around. "How about we get some chicken on a stick for dinner and hail a cab to our next destination?"

Mercedes blinked. "There's _more_?" she asked incredulously.

Sam beamed. "We're about to head into the main event."

Mercedes had such an incredible time on their stroll through the park that she couldn't imagine anything better, but apparently Sam had something else prepared.

She couldn't stop laughing as he hurried her over to the street vendor to get some food. As they ate their chicken—which was crazy delicious—Sam flagged down a cab.

Now _that_ was amusing to watch. It had taken him multiple tries to get their attention and Mercedes had a ball laughing at his various positions and arm swings and yells.

Sam ate his chicken quickly once they got into the cab—he whispered the destination to the cabby so Mercedes couldn't hear. She had a good time pouting about that, but their ride was only about five minutes long.

When they stepped out, Mercedes found herself gasping in surprise.

* * *

><p><strong>May 11, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**Classic Harbor Line**

**New York City, New York**

**9:16PM**

"You bought tickets to a Skyline cruise?"

Mercedes' exclamation had Sam grinning like an idiot as he handed the tickets over to her. He couldn't have imagined her more shocked—she was gaping and her eyes were extremely wide as she glanced between him and the tickets now held in her hand.

"_Sam!"_ she fussed, "These must've cost a fortune! Wait—_forty-five dollars apiece_! Samuel Evans!" She slapped him on the arm with the pair of tickets in her hand.

"Cede, it's fine," he said with a laugh as he caught her gesturing hands while she ranted. "Living with Lynn allowed me to actually keep my last paycheck," he told her, "it was more than enough to cover this whole date."

She looked a little calmer, but she still seemed dubious. "Why on earth would you do all this for me?" she asked, "The park was great. I loved every second of it."

"Yeah," Sam replied, "but this was your _first_ date. You don't deserve great—you deserve incredible. And I wanted to give that to you; _just this once_."

Sam watched her expression completely melt and she gave him a smile of fond exasperation.

"Boy, when did you get so good with words?" she teased lightly.

"I have some amazing inspiration," he quipped and Mercedes laughed, before he leaned forward and kissed her again. He just couldn't get enough of her lips and her scent. He was a goner—and he knew it.

They walked to the loading area—hand in hand. Sam gave the guy at the gate their tickets and they walked onto the cruise ship. It was huge and lit up and just spectacular. He and Mercedes were staring around at everything in awe. It was fairly empty for such a popular tourist attraction, but it was the middle of the week and not really a vacation period of the year.

It made the experience even more incredible. He led her over to the railing of the ship and they looked out over the water—their breath already taken away by the view. New York City was a magnificent city in pictures, but to see it up close and personal was awe-inspiring.

And as the Night cruise began in full—Sam and Mercedes were like a pair of hardcore kids on a sugar high as they chattered about everything they saw. They took cute pictures, serious pictures, but there were lots of funny pictures.

Mercedes even got one that made it look like Sam was spanking the Statue of Liberty. It had the two of them in hysterics for the longest time.

They were in a fairly isolated area so they figured their ridiculous antics were fine. The cruise crew was playing the top 40 hits softly over the ship's sound system and Sam couldn't resist dancing to it. Mercedes giggling every time he pulled out a ridiculous dance move.

He loved making her laugh—it was his personal brand of heroine. When "Just a Dream" by Nelly came on, Sam couldn't resist twirling her into his arms. She had placed her purple pea-coat on a chair of the ship—her bouquet lying atop it as soon as they settled on the ship.

He watched her dress flair around her hips as he swung her into his embrace—she laughed as they slow danced across the deck of the boat. Her brown eyes were alight with laughter and joy as he waltzed her across the wooden flooring. He couldn't take his eyes off of her.

This whole night had been magical—beyond everything he had ever thought it would be. And Sam wondered why the hell he had waited so long. Their dance ended and Sam decided to go get them something to drink for the last twenty minutes of their cruise.

* * *

><p>Mercedes leaned against the railing of the boat—just staring at the city lights. Everything was so beautiful, so perfectly aligned that she felt like God was standing right next to her saying this is your gift for waiting so long.<p>

Her first date felt like something that only happened in the movies—the conversations, the handsome guy, the rockin' outfit, and the events. Sam was just_ so_—_she didn't even know._

Never in a million years would she have thought that she'd end up on a City Lights Cruise in New York City with a hot blonde sci-fi nerd. It was so far from her thought process that she was still stunned by everything.

She wanted to pinch herself just to make sure she wasn't dreaming. It sure felt _real_—especially when a cup of hot chocolate was placed in front of her face and she felt her back hugged by warmth.

Sam's lips pressing into her bare shoulder made Mercedes grin like an idiot—her shoulder continued to tingle even as he rested his chin there and kissed her cheek.

"Hello beautiful," he whispered and Mercedes' eyes closed in ecstasy. She would never get tired of hearing that from him.

Hearing it from her dad and brothers and mom was wonderful, but hearing it from the guy you wanted to kiss senseless every second of the day—that was _priceless_ and it made her heart flutter like crazy every time he did it. "I bought us some hot chocolate," he told her excitedly. She laughed as she wrapped her hands around his holding the mug.

"I can see that," she replied, "Where's yours?"

"I got one for us to share," he replied sheepishly and Mercedes turned her head to glance at him.

"Presumptuous, are we?" she joked, "What if I didn't want to share my hot chocolate with you?"

"In my opinion, you've been sharing the hot chocolate ever since we've kissed," Sam responded with a smug grin, "You're the hottest chocolate I've ever tasted."

That had her snorting. "You are one crazy white boy, you know that," she told him. Sam grinned in response.

"You know you like it, Nala," he said as he pulled his hand away from the mug and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her cheeks got warm when he pulled her into his chest and placed a kiss at the junction between her neck and shoulder.

"Yeah, a little bit too much," she muttered, "You're going to have me quoting Avatar soon." That had Sam laughing into her shoulder.

They shared the hot chocolate in a contented silence—Sam holding Mercedes close for the rest of the ride. The mug was emptied and placed on the chair next to Mercedes' bag. It was when they could see the docks again that Mercedes felt Sam's arms tighten around her, before he let go.

He gently turned her to face him and she looked up into his eyes—and she had never seen them so _warm_. His hands fell on her waist and he leaned his forehead onto hers. Mercedes was self-aware enough to admit that she was nervous and terrified at the same time.

The look in Sam's eyes was bordering on an intensity that Mercedes had never seen directed at anyone before. Her heart was pounding and her palms were sweaty, and she felt like her legs were about to give out on her, but nothing had ever felt so scary or _right_ before.

"Oel ngati kameie, Nala," Sam whispered—and even though she didn't know what that meant; her heart fluttered as he continued, "Nga lor si oe neu ne lu hu nga." She'd always thought it dumb to know a fictional language, but hearing the vowels roll off Sam's tongue made her change her opinion.

In this moment it was perfect, because it was such a Sam thing to do. She wouldn't have wanted anything less. "What did that mean?" she asked quietly and Sam smiled slightly at her.

"I see you, Nala," he translated—the emotion in his tone and his face and his eyes was driving Mercedes crazy as he spoke, "You are beautiful and I want to be with you."

His words had her eyes watering. "Sam," she whispered, but he stopped her with a glance.

"You have brought me through things in the past month that I never thought I'd have to deal with," Sam told her—the sincerity in his voice had her knees weakening, "And you've helped me change and discover just how good I can be. You make me want to be better than I am. You don't let me give up hope, and I have been so _blind_ as to how incredibly _perfect_ you are for me."

She bit her lip because she could feel the tears choking her. Her heart was on the verge of exploding in her chest. "You're so different from me—we have completely opposite perspectives and yet, you understand me and respect me like no one I've ever met before. I find myself amazed by every little thing you do and I want that in my life for as long as I can possibly get it."

Oh, what the hell, she was totally crying. She was so happy that she couldn't contain it, but she needed to hear those words. Would it—was this really happening to her? Mercedes Jones? The woman who was forever alone? Was she actually standing on a cruise boat with the guy of her dreams?

God was _good_—_he was really good. _

"So, Mercedes Nala Jones," That got her to crack a smile—only Sam would through that in there, "Will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?"

And there was nothing but joy coursing through her as she blurted, "_Hell yes!"_

Sam laughed—his cheeks were pink, but his smile was huge, before he leaned forward and kissed her deeply.

She still tensed a bit when she felt his tongue sweep across her bottom lip, but she didn't back away from it. Mercedes would never admit it in a million years, but she had totally researched how to French kiss after that embarrassing incident.

So she remembered the instructions and opened her mouth slightly. And good God, tongues were amazing, but that shit did feel weird too. Not that she was complaining—she could damn well get used to this.

He tasted like mint and chocolate and marshmallows and she wondered what she tasted like to him, but decided to push that thought away or she would freak herself out. When he finally pulled away, her knees were wobbly.

He caught her in his arms with a laugh. "I've never actually made a girl's knees go weak before," he teased and Mercedes poked him when she straightened up.

"I'll learn to resist you soon enough," she replied and Sam's green eyes twinkled at her.

"I hope not," he said and Mercedes smiled at him. They were distracted from their conversation as the boat docked.

Mercedes slid on her coat and the two of them hailed a cab. When they got to the hotel—Sam stopped her at the bottom of the steps. She smiled up at him. "Tonight was beyond perfect, Sam," she told him and Sam blushed.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he replied, "but I'm happier that I can call you my girlfriend now."

She had a _boyfriend_! _Holy shit!_ Mercedes was tempted to break into a happy dance right then and there, but she refrained. It would happen as soon as she was alone though, she just knew it.

"What should we tell the others?" she asked. She and Sam hadn't even thought about that. They were bound to have noticed their disappearance, and if they suddenly reappeared at the same time—then they were both busted. Especially since Kurt was in her room—her best friend could smell a lie from ten stories away.

"I could tell the guys that I got lost," Sam said with a shrug, "I mentioned that I wanted to go sightseeing around the city when I left."

Mercedes wracked her brain for a few moments before she got an idea. "Kurt knows that my aunt used to live here. I could say that I went to go visit Kate and Isabelle—a couple of her old friends. I've actually met them before."

Sam smiled. "Sounds great," he replied, but then a confused expression fell over his features. "Why are we hiding this from them? I'm sure they'd be happy for us."

Mercedes looked away from him. As much as she loved her friends—she wanted this for herself for a little while. Maybe that was selfish, but she'd never had this before and now that she did—she wanted it to be just hers for now. And when she explained that to Sam, he was perfectly fine with it.

He leaned forward and kissed her goodnight before he headed inside. That sweet kiss sent chills down her spine.

She followed him a few moments later. _The night was perfect beyond all words._

She totally did her happy dance in the elevator.

* * *

><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until next time! :D <strong>


	23. Hey, Soul Sister

**DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter. There are scenes transcribed from "GLEE" and I give them all credit for those parts. And Drop Dead Diva is awesome. :)**

**I apologize for the long delay. I've been crazy busy lately. And this is the first part of FRIDAY in New York. There were two more parts that I wanted to post on here, but I don't have time to write them right now. If I'm lucky-I'll be able to get the rest up tonight, but I can't promise anything. But as a spoiler: the next part will have JLynn and Sam/Finn friendship! I hope you enjoy the chapter. **

* * *

><p><strong>May 12, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**The InterContinental Hotel**

**New York City, New York**

**11:26AM**

Somehow, Mercedes found herself alone in the girls' hotel room with Quinn. Lauren had been up and out on the town with Puck by nine in the morning, and Tina and Mike had skedaddled into the beyond by ten.

Santana and Brittany were with the others in the boys' room. Quinn had been in the bathroom when they departed twenty minutes ago, and Mercedes had plopped down in the armchair to read.

That was how Quinn found her almost ten minutes later.

Mercedes was getting really into her murder mystery novel. She was pretty sure that Ryan was the killer, but it could also be Brad. She was trying to puzzle it out in her head when the sound of footsteps caught her attention.

"Mercy?" Quinn asked softly and Mercedes looked up from her book. The blonde looked nervous as she stood in front of her. But then again, Quinn had been acting weird all year long. Mercedes still wasn't quite sure what she thought of the situation, but something fishy was definitely going on.

"Are you busy?" she questioned and Mercedes' eyebrows rose in curiosity. Quinn's green-eyed gaze was avoiding looking directly at her. And her hands were wringing together.

"No," Mercedes replied, "What's up?"

"Would you like to go get lunch with me, then?" Quinn asked, "I think it's time we talked."

It took everything within her to keep her jaw from dropping. _Quinn was finally ready?_

Wait, Quinn was finally ready! That was a _good_ thing.

But it also scared Mercedes, because the blonde looked incredibly tired and pale and extremely stressed. Maybe talking to someone wasn't just a choice—but it had become a _necessity_.

"Of course," Mercedes agreed as she shut her book with a slight snap.

Quinn swallowed hard before she gave a terse nod and turned on her heel. For a moment, Mercedes stared after her, but then she sat her book down on the desk and slipped on her black flats before she stood and followed Quinn out of the door of the hotel room and into the hallway.

* * *

><p><strong>May 12, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**Camden's Cafe**

**New York City, New York**

**11:43AM**

Sitting in an isolated booth across from an exhausted Quinn Fabray was not a new experience for Mercedes, but sitting across from an utterly defeated Quinn Fabray definitely was.

Even when pregnant, Quinn had _fire_. She wouldn't take shit from anyone and that was one of the things that Mercedes both loved and hated about her friend.

But this Quinn looked like she'd lost her spirit and Mercedes didn't like it.

She didn't like it at all.

"I love your hair," Mercedes said and Quinn gave her a tired smile as she self-consciously ran her fingers through her short blonde locks. "It looks amazing on you, Quinn."

"You think so?" Quinn asked, "I'm not sure about it just yet, but it's different and I like that."

The conversation sort of died after that, and they went through ordering their food in an awkward manner. It was _that_—more than anything—that made Mercedes realize just how far apart they had grown.

_Before this year, they'd never had any awkward silences. _

Quinn had always been a chatterbox, but only when she felt completely comfortable with someone. And that someone had been Mercedes.

It made her heart hurt to realize that she and her soul-sister weren't on the same page. And that pain drove Mercedes into action.

"Quinn," she said and the blonde looked up from where she was idly twirling her spaghetti noodles around her fork. "You brought me here so we could talk. I'm a little confused as to what I'm doing here if you're not going to say anything."

Shock bloomed in Quinn's green eyes and Mercedes felt a twinge of guilt, but it was true. There were other things she could be doing besides getting ignored by her friend—like writing music, or making out with Sam, or cuddling with Sam—who she hadn't seen all day.

He'd sent her a text this morning—simply saying, "Good morning, beautiful!"—and it had put the biggest grin on her face. It was like an instant shot of caffeine to know that last night hadn't been a dream. _Sam Evans was really her boyfriend!_

A smile was threatening to break across Mercedes' face, but Quinn speaking tore her from her thoughts. "You're right," she whispered as she set her fork down on her plate. "It's a long story, Mercy."

"We've got nothing but time, girlie," Mercedes replied with an encouraging smile on her face.

"I don't even know where to begin," Quinn admitted—her voice low and her eyes on the abandoned plate of spaghetti in front of her. "There's just so much and one thing leads to another—and I—I'm _terrified_ that I'm going to spill all this to you and you'll be disgusted with me."

Mercedes couldn't control the horrified expression that momentarily spread across her face. She would never just up and leave someone for being honest with her.

Quinn should know that—she _had_ to know that.

"Girlie," Mercedes spoke, "We've been through a lot—_both together and apart_. I'm not going to let anything put our friendship on hold ever again." She reached across the table and grabbed Quinn's hand. The blonde looked on the verge of tears, and she hadn't even started talking yet. Mercedes finally realized that this was probably going to be worse than she'd first thought. "I am_ not_ going to lose you this time, Quinn."

Quinn gave her a watery smile of gratitude as she squeezed Mercedes' hand.

"Okay," she replied shakily. Mercedes didn't say anything as she watched Quinn struggle to regain her composure. "After Regionals—everything was _fine_. Beth was a beautiful and healthy baby, but I felt like something was missing, you know."

Quinn bit her lip and Mercedes stroked the back of the girl's hand with her thumb hoping to give her some form of comfort. "I asked the doctors about it while I was still in the hospital, and they said that it was normal to feel a degree of loss after a baby is born," Quinn said, "but I didn't feel right anymore. I wanted to know how Beth was—hell, _where she was _would've been fine, but Shelby had adopted her right away and she moved. I was anxious all the time and I couldn't stop crying—the doctors said it was the leftover hormones from my pregnancy."

The shame on Quinn's face broke Mercedes' heart. She looked so guilty and saddened that she wanted to wrap her friend into a hug, but she could tell that this wasn't the right time.

"I stayed that way for a week—the anxiety, the constant crying—my mom called it the baby blues and she didn't leave my side. When they released me from the hospital and I went home—I felt a lot better. Things were going well for a couple of weeks—until I looked at my body in a mirror." Quinn's voice cracked. "I had been avoiding it since I went home. I didn't want to see what pregnancy had done to me."

"It felt like a house had sat on my chest," she told Mercedes, "I _hated _what I saw. I was nothing but a failure and a _slut _and a horrible person. _Who gives their child away?_ It served me right." Quinn's fingers were gripping Mercedes' hand and the pain blossoming in her green eyes was enough to make Mercedes' stomach churn unpleasantly.

Hearing that Quinn had thought of herself that way for even a moment was enough to make Mercedes raging mad. Her friend was _beautiful_, and God, she wished she could say something to her to make her believe it.

"I wanted to take everything back," Quinn said, "I wanted my body, my virginity, but I really wanted my baby. I didn't want Shelby to have her. She belonged with _me_—I'm her mother. And then I got depressed. I wasn't happy. I didn't like doing anything anymore. I felt worthless. I was hardly ever hungry. I obsessed over my body and every imperfection I could find. I stayed that way for almost two months, before my mom dragged me into the clinic to see a doctor. She was scared that it was something far more serious. And she was right."

The tears brimming Quinn's eyes slipped down her cheeks. "They diagnosed me with postpartum depression."

Mercedes—as much as she wished she knew everything—had no idea what that was. She'd briefly heard it mentioned before but it had never been that important to her. Seeing how it was affecting Quinn had her wishing that she knew more. She felt so useless at the moment, but from what she was listening to—that was the last thing Quinn needed to hear.

"Everything was complicated, and knowing that I had a mental disorder—that just made everything worse," Quinn whispered, "I was placed in therapy for the remainder of the summer and I was all over the emotional landscape. I switched between worrying about Beth and how she was and if she'd ever want to know me—and then _hating_ her. She made me _crazy_—it was all her fault that I was no longer attractive or that I was a mother at fifteen. It was all her fault because I wouldn't have had postpartum depression if she'd never existed. _Beth made me a freak_."

The horror was threatening Mercedes' composure. She stared at her friend, aghast.

_How could Quinn have thought those things and never noticed something was wrong?_ How did someone deal with this? And looking at Quinn, Mercedes could tell she was regretful. The girl looked tormented at the revelation of her own thoughts. Compassion flared inside Mercedes' heart.

"On and _on_ it went," Quinn admitted shamefully, "Everything was spiraling out of control—my bad days outnumbered my good days and my mom was doing all that she could. Nothing worked—so I took matters into my own hands. I worked out every day—I just knew that if I got back to where I was sophomore year then everything would be just fine."

"So I worked out like crazy and when school started—I re-auditioned for the cheerios. Seeing myself in that uniform—made me hate myself all the more, but I would do this so all this madness could stop. It didn't work. I got my position back. I was top bitch again, but I still felt worthless and ugly. Then Sam came along."

Mercedes' heart froze in her chest. She knew that Sam was hers, but she also knew that he and Quinn had been serious at one point. She didn't know if that fear would ever completely go away.

"I figured that it was perfect," Quinn said with a bitter laugh, "He responded to my teasing and he made me feel a momentary rush of attractiveness, but no matter how much I teased him sexually and no matter how wonderful it felt when he called me beautiful—it wasn't enough to make me feel good about myself."

Hearing this was painful for Mercedes. She saw how much Quinn had meant to Sam, and even though she could understand why Quinn had treated him the way she had—it didn't stop her from being pissed off about it.

"Then the whole Finn thing happened and that added a whole new level to everything," Quinn told her, "To be wanted by one guy wasn't enough but maybe two would fix everything. Instead, it only added to the misery when Sam dumped me for Santana after he found out I was cheating and Finn was still mooning over Rachel."

"I was set back so far, and then prom came up and it was the only way," she said, "I had to have that crown. Having the title—it would prove that I was wrong about myself; that I was still beautiful and worthy of being loved—" The pain broke through Quinn's walls and she let out a soft sob that made Mercedes bite her lip in order to prevent herself from crying.

She reached out and grabbed Quinn's other hand in her own. _Jesus, give her strength, but she had no idea what to do._

"And when the truth came out about Lucy—I just snapped," Quinn stated through her tears, "My mom took me back to the doctors and they said—good news, no more _postpartum _depression, but we believe that you have lapsed into a severe depression based on your mental evaluation. So I became severely depressed _because_ of my postpartum depression. And then on prom night—Finn got into a fight with Jesse and I_ knew_ he was still in love with Rachel, but I thought that this once—someone would choose _me_ over her."

Mercedes watched Quinn emotionally crumble in front of her eyes and she didn't know what to do. There wasn't anything she could do. _How was someone supposed to approach this situation?_ Maybe she could've helped earlier, but there was nothing she could really do now—except be there for Quinn.

"Nothing has been the same since," Quinn said with a shaky inhale, "I've been taking meds off and on since the day after Prom and when Finn broke up with me—I couldn't handle it alone anymore. I needed someone to just love me so badly that day, and _you_—"

When Quinn's teary green eyes met Mercedes' anguished brown ones—Mercedes felt her heart swell. "You did that for me. You didn't push and you didn't turn me away. I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am for that. If you hadn't taken me in that night—there's a good chance that I wouldn't be alive right now."

And Mercedes shattered. For a moment, Mercedes pictured a world without Quinn Fabray and she couldn't see _anything_. The pit of her stomach fell to her toes and the emptiness she felt rose like bile in her throat.

"_Quinn_," she asked—the tears already making their way down her cheeks. Quinn was suicidal? Her soul-sister was so depressed that she was ready to take her own life? How could she have missed this? Mercedes thanked God that she had let Quinn into her home with open arms.

"You saved my life," Quinn said—her fingers entangled with Mercedes'. "More than once—_you saved me." _

"Why didn't you _say_ anything?" Mercedes whispered, her voice broken. The things her heart was doing shouldn't be possible. It felt like it was being broken and healed at the same time. "I love you! I've always loved you. We're _sisters_, girlie."

Quinn's lips trembled and Mercedes was fighting desperately to control her own emotions. Hearing about Sam and then hearing about why Quinn had behaved the way she did—it was tearing her apart. To know that she had been _right there_—she had been so close to Quinn and still had no idea what was going on in her life; it made her miserable.

"I was so scared, Mercy," Quinn replied, "I was _terrified_ that if anyone knew what was going on in my head and my life that everyone would hate me more than they already did. And I was so ashamed of everything. Your opinion means so much to me that I started having panic attacks at the thought of telling you and having you leave me."

Mercedes could understand, but God it hurt to know that something like this had been kept from her. The silence between the two of them was only broken by the sound of Quinn's soft crying.

"I_ love_ you, Quinn," Mercedes said firmly. Quinn's green eyes stared at her and Mercedes continued, "You are my sister and you will always be my sister. _Promise _me—that you won't keep anything like this from me again."

Quinn nodded quickly—the tears falling quickly. "I love you too, Mercy."

"Have you been taking your meds lately?" Mercedes asked and Quinn slowly shook her head. "Why not?"

"I feel _crazy_," Quinn replied, "I don't want to feel like less of a person because of some stupid depression."

"_It's not stupid_!" Mercedes bit back, "And you _are not_ crazy."

Quinn looked taken aback by the stringent tone in Mercedes' tone, but Mercedes didn't care.

She wasn't going to let her friend walk this road alone. She was going to learn everything she could about this whole thing and then she would figure out a way to help Quinn.

"You are _not _alone in this anymore," Mercedes whispered fiercely and the gratitude and love in Quinn's green eyes said everything that Mercedes needed to know.

* * *

><p><strong>May 12, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**The InterContinental Hotel**

**New York City, New York**

**2:43PM**

When Mercedes and Quinn walked back into the hotel room—both of their faces had been cleaned of tears, but they still looked exhausted. It didn't help that they walked right into the middle of a loud argument between Rachel and Santana.

"You heard the man, Berry!" Santana yelled—her Spanish accent thicker than ever, "Why are you being so dumb?"

"We don't know if it's true or not, Satan—Santana!" Rachel corrected herself as soon as the murderous glint brightened Santana's eyes. Mercedes had to forcefully stop the amusement from crossing her face, but Santana's next words stopped her cold.

"Mr. Schue is leaving, Pinocchio!" she hissed, "So I suggest you get over yourself and take your pompous attitude elsewhere!" Rachel looked incredibly hurt, but Mercedes was stunned by what had been said about Mr. Schue.

Her jaw had to be on the floor. Quinn didn't seem to be doing any better as she stood there in shock. The argument continued between Rachel and Santana, but it was only when Santana raised her fist to swing at the shorter girl that Mercedes came back to her senses.

"What the hell is going on here?" she demanded and the harsh tone made Santana freeze mid-swing. Heads snapped in their direction and Mercedes narrowed her eyes. "Anyone want to fill me in on why you guys think Mr. Schue is leaving?"

She gazed at each of them in turn, but her eyes lingered on Sam the most. He shot her the most loving look she'd ever been on the receiving end of and it took everything in her to not rush into his arms and sob into his shoulder.

This couldn't be happening. _Please let this be just one huge misunderstanding. _

"The vocal adrenaline coach told us earlier today," Kurt interjected, "It's even announced online. We checked." Kurt looked like he couldn't decide between being mad or distraught. Either way, he looked like he was on the verge of tears. And Mercedes didn't like it.

"What if we're wrong, guys?" Mercedes asked. "The internet is not infallible, and Goolseby is our opponent's director! He could be trying to get us upset and distract us from the competition."

"That's two sources, Mercedes—"Santana tried to say, but Mercedes put her hand up in the air. She knew it was rude, but this was turning out to be a craptastic day and she didn't have the patience to deal with any unnecessary drama.

"You can't just take everything at face value!" Mercedes snapped, "Goolseby has no allegiance to us—he just wants to win. And there's like two websites that actually care about Broadway and I don't read either of them—so you know what—I do not believe a word of this until we hear it from Mr. Schue."

Santana looked angry, but Rachel leapt into the conversation. "See! That's exactly what I was saying—"Mercedes ignored the full blown argument as she stalked over to the window. All she could hear was everyone yelling and fighting behind her until she felt a warm hand tug on her fingers.

Mercedes looked up and gave Sam a half-hearted smile. He shot her a look of concern. "Girlfriend," Sam whispered and the term had her mood brightening. She would never get used to being called that. "You look like you need a hug—and I promise to give you one as soon as we're out of no man's land."

"I would love that," she replied softly and Sam grinned as he squeezed her hand.

"Be strong, Nala," he said, before he let go and went to the other side of the room—plopping down on the floor next Artie, who was sitting silently in his wheelchair. Mercedes turned around and then whistled—really loudly.

"Everybody! Please, shut up!" she said and they all blinked at her. Sam was trying and failing to hide a grin. "Let's just wait until Mr. Schue gets back before we jump to conclusions."

Nobody seemed to know how to respond so the room got silent. Mercedes trudged over to the bed and sat down. They waited in complete silence for almost ten minutes when they heard the sound of a key card swiping through the reader. Soon enough, the door opened.

"Alright guys who's ready for some New York city pizza?" Mr. Schue said as he hobbled into the room—his arms full with a tower of pizza boxes. When everyone just stared at him solemnly, his eyebrows furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"We heard," Quinn replied softly—her hands wringing together in her lap.

The confusion that stole across Mr. Schue's face was genuine as he asked, "About what?"

"About you leaving to be on Broadway," Mercedes stated.

Mr. Schue's momentarily stunned expression made Mercedes realize that the vocal adrenaline director hadn't been lying. The rush of tears that sprung to her eyes made her turn her head away from him. She caught Sam's worried eyes staring at her, but she looked over at Tina when her friend grabbed her hand.

Tina appeared just as heartbroken as Mercedes was. If there had been any other moment when she wished Sam was sitting right beside her—this was it. She loved her friend but Sam just calmed and reassured her like no other.

Mr. Schue sighed heavily as he placed the stack of pizza boxes onto the counter. "Look, I haven't made up by mind about anything."

"We get it," Kurt said—but his voice was a pitch higher than normal, "And we're happy for you." Mercedes didn't believe him for a second. She knew Kurt Hummel and how much fondness he had for Mr. Schue. And Mr. Schue looked incredibly skeptical as well.

"You deserve it. You've inspired us in so many ways and so, this is just another." Rachel told him-her voice was sad though.

"I don't understand," Mr. Schue replied, "Who told you guys?"

"Goolseby, "Tina answered and Mr. Schue's eyes flashed with outrage. Mercedes saw Mike's eyebrows shoot up at the teacher's reaction.

"You okay, Mr. Schue?" Mike asked slowly as if he was afraid of getting yelled at.

"I'm not going," the teacher declared—Mercedes turned to stare at him in disbelief. "I'm staying with you guys." She couldn't believe this. He was going to give up Broadway—his number one dream for his whole life—because of them? It didn't feel right.

Sure, she would've missed Mr. Schue, but it was only for the summer and she didn't feel like he had to stay with them for this. There had to be something else. "I had my moment on that stage—and it was _glorious_, but you and I have some unfinished business to take care of. And get out your notebooks! It's time to get to work."

When everyone just kind of sat there staring—Mr. Schue clapped his hands together loudly and said, "Come on; this is Nationals, people!" People started pulling notebooks from everywhere until Mr. Schue let out a laugh as Puck hugged him tightly.

Mercedes couldn't help but smile when Sam was the next to glomp onto the teacher. It turned into a huge group hug soon enough. And it was a great moment—Glee club had actually become a family.

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><p><strong>May 12, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**The InterContinental Hotel**

**New York City, New York**

**5:47PM**

A little bit over three hours later—they had the first song written and the music almost perfected. Everybody was in full work mode, but Mercedes needed a moment. There were so many things and so many emotions going on inside of her that she felt like she couldn't breathe.

She stood up abruptly, causing Tina and Quinn to look at her. "I'm going to go get some ice," she said, "I'll be right back." Tina shrugged and Quinn nodded.

Mercedes let out a sigh of relief as she grabbed the empty ice bucket from the counter and made her way out of the door. When it closed behind her—she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. For a couple of minutes—she just stood there with her head tilted back against the wall.

So much had happened today. She was happy that she and Quinn were close again, and she didn't feel right about keeping her and Sam a secret from her soul-sister, but hadn't she said last night that she wanted this for them?

_Life was such a pain in the ass sometimes._ Mercedes was distracted from her thoughts as the hotel door opened again. She started walking briskly down the hall so she wouldn't blow her cover.

"Cede! Wait up!" When she heard Sam's voice from behind her—she froze mid-step. She turned around to see him jog lightly down the hall to meet her.

"Sam?" she asked bewildered, "What are you doing?"

He didn't say anything until he'd pulled her into a full embrace. "I told you I'd give you hug." And it felt wonderful. Sam's scent was amazing and he gave great hugs. It was exactly what she'd needed after a day like today.

He pulled back to look down at her. She met his green eyes for a moment, before he leaned over and kissed her sweetly on the lips. All the tension from the day just melted away as he moved his lips over hers. His kiss was so tender that she felt her hands drop onto his shoulders and pull him closer.

She couldn't resist playing with the short hairs on the back of his neck. He kissed her once—twice—more before he pulled away completely.

"This whole day has been hell in a hand basket," Mercedes breathed as Sam placed his hands on her waist. She watched his blond eyebrows furrow as he studied her in concern.

"I haven't heard that one in awhile," he replied and Mercedes let out a slight laugh. Sam's hands squeezed her waist gently. "What's wrong, Nala?"

"It's such a long story and it's honestly not my place to tell you," she answered and Sam nodded in understanding, "but I really do want to talk to you about it."

"Sweetheart, I get it," he responded and Mercedes turned into goo. No one had ever called her sweetheart in such an affectionate way before. God, she was so into this boy. "Besties before testes."

She couldn't help but laugh. "You watch Drop Dead Diva?"

"I might have seen a few episodes..." Sam admitted with a blush.

"You've watched all the seasons, haven't you?" she asked as she brushed strands of hair out of his eyes. She wanted those green orbs on her with nothing in the way—even though she did love his blond locks.

The red of Sam's cheeks said it all. Mercedes cracked up. "We'll have to watch the new episodes together sometime." Sam grinned in agreement.

Truth was—Quinn and Mercedes had watched that show every Sunday night. They both loved it! Her mother had even enjoyed it, but most of the time—it was just Quinn and Mercedes. It had been a bonding factor for them. Now, every time she watched the shows—it just wasn't the same.

"Thanks for cheering me up, Blondie," Mercedes told her boyfriend. Sam smiled.

"Thanks for letting me cheer you up, Nala," Sam replied. Mercedes rolled her eyes as she stepped out of the embrace.

"You should get back inside," she said, "They'll get suspicious if we're both gone for too long. Wait—how'd you get out here anyway?"

"I pretended like I had a phone call," Sam replied. She let out a huff of amusement.

Sam leaned over and gave her one last kiss before he turned to go back to the hotel room. She watched him disappear into the room with a grin on her face.

Even though her day hadn't been as wonderful as yesterday—she was definitely blessed with good people in her life. And she couldn't bring herself to complain.

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><p>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until next time! :D<p> 


	24. Color My Friendship

**DISCLAIMER: On first chapter.**

**I'm sorry this chapter is so late! Real life has been kicking my ASS. I'll try to have the next chapter posted by this Sunday. It's COMPETITION TIME in the next chapter! And some awesome Samcedes stuff will be going down. Thank you for being so patient with me. And I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. **

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><p><strong>May 12, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:23PM**

"It's a Friday night," Lynn said suddenly. Jeff looked at her from his plate of homemade fried chicken and mashed potatoes. His eyebrows rose on his forehead.

"Yeah," he replied, "And yesterday was Thursday." The smartass comment got him a cloth napkin to the face from the lady sitting on his right at the head of the table.

"Don't start thinking you're funny," she responded with a sarcastic quirk of her lips.

"I've got jokes," Jeff told her—mock-indignantly.

"No," Lynn said, "You telling jokes is a joke."

"Way to shrink a man's ego, Lynn," Jeff replied with a laugh. She shrugged at him and then laughed when he pouted at her.

"I'm just saying that maybe we should do something." Her brows were furrowed slightly as her hazel eyes studied her plate. He could tell that something was bothering her. She had this ring of sadness around her that was growing each day.

He didn't like it. And he really didn't like the fact that there was nothing he could do about it at the moment—considering he had no idea what it was. He hoped she would talk to him.

"Like what?" he asked before scooping another forkful of potatoes into his mouth. _Man, this woman could cook like nobody's business._ He thought he'd experienced good southern cuisine in Tennessee, but Lynn sure knew how to bring the flavor to her food.

"I don't really know," she said with a sigh as she ate her green beans slowly. Stacey and Stevie ate their food silently. They were still missing their brother something fierce. Jeff knew they were attached to Sam, but he hadn't seen it firsthand.

He was missing his kid too. Jeff had to forcefully stop himself from calling Sam every hour to make sure that he was safe. Lynn had played a big part in taming his overprotective tendencies, but damn—it was hard. They all looked quite pathetic sitting here with frowns on their faces.

"Why don't we all have a movie night?" Jeff blurted. It was simple and something they could all do together. Get the kids and Lynn out of reality for a little while.

Lynn's hazel eyes stared at him, before she smiled. "That sounds like a wonderful idea! We can shower and put on pajamas before watching it." Jeff laughed at her enthusiasm.

"What do you guys think?" Jeff asked his kids. Stevie and Stacey traded a look, before they broke out into grins. Yep, he was a genius.

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><p><strong>May 12, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**9:17PM**

Watching his children laugh was something Jeffrey would always cherish. Their faces would brighten and their eyes would light up—it was like watching the past year disappear in the blink of an eye.

It eased his heart to know that his children could still find joy in simply being _children_. He didn't know what he would do if Stacey and Stevie grew up too fast.

It also soothed him to know that his kids were cuddle bugs—_all three of them_. He was actually pretty sure that Sam was the worst, but Stacey gave him a run for his money.

Stevie was snuggled on his right side. The boy's legs tucked underneath him and his head nestled in the crevice of Jeff's shoulder and pectoral.

Feeling his son's heart beating against his side filled him with so much love that it was hard to contain. The baby fine blond hair was soft under Jeff's fingers as he ran his fingers through it.

He would never understand how Elizabeth had been able to walk away from them. Leaving for work in the morning made him sad sometimes. Kissing them goodbye when he dropped them off at school was difficult. Jeff couldn't decide if his attachment was good or bad—but he knew it had worsened since this whole debacle with Elizabeth had started.

There wasn't a day that went by that he worried about how they were reacting to everything. So much had changed in such a short time that he wondered about how they were coping. But hearing Stevie's childish laughter as the characters on the screen got into an argument suggested that his children were going to be just fine.

He placed a kiss on his son's head and smiled when Stevie shifted closer in response. Jeff looked up and over at his little girl. He would be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat when he saw her.

She was practically sprawled out across Lynn's lap. Her head was on Lynn's left thigh, her stomach in the cushions of the couch. Stacey's right hand clutched the fabric of Lynn's pajama pants as she laughed along with her brother. But it was Lynn's fingers threading through his little girl's hair that had him finally understanding.

He could clearly see the love and sadness in her expression. It must have been torture for her—to see what she was missing with her own children and know that she'd never experience this. His heart broke for her.

Lynn had taken such good care of his children in the last couple of weeks. She helped them with their homework. She helped them pick out their clothes for school. She cooked them hearty meals and she often came with him to read them both bedtime stories.

She was teaching Stacey how to knit, for Pete's sake. How could anyone leave a woman like Lynnette Orchid behind? _Why would anyone want to? _

Seeing the tears brimming in her eyes made his heart constrict. She loved so much—and cared for so many people. Hell, if she hadn't helped Sam that day—Jeff had no idea where they would be.

Would he still be with a wife who wanted nothing to do with him or his family anymore? Would they be living on the streets? The bleak reality his family might've faced sent chills down his spine. Jeff kissed his son's head again in response to his thoughts.

He would've never forgiven himself if he had let them fall that far. Sam going into that shop had changed their lives. Lynn was a walking blessing. She wasn't perfect, but he couldn't say that he wanted her to be that way.

For the rest of the movie, Jeff held Stevie close and prayed that Lynn would be okay. When the credits rolled, Stevie was passed out in his embrace. He leaned forward a bit to make sure, and had to chuckle at the open-mouth his kid was sporting. Gently, he lifted his son into his arms—trying his best not to wake him.

Stacey was awake but only barely. Lynn hefted the girl onto her hip and Stacey latched on. She buried her small head into Lynn's neck and Jeff noticed Lynn blink away tears before she moved around the couch and upstairs. Jeff followed her silently.

He opened Stevie's door with his foot and tugged the covers back on the bed with one hand. Jeff laid his son on his bed and tucked him in. He leaned over and placed a kiss on his kid's cheek and whispered, "Love you, sonny."

"Love you too, dad," Stevie responded blearily. It was the cutest thing ever—not that Jeff would say it aloud. Jeff moved back from the bed and softly closed the door behind him. He walked over to Stacey's room—seeing the door cracked open.

Lynn wasn't in the room when he poked his head inside, but his little girl was tucked into bed, her stuffed bear under one arm and her night light on—just the way she liked it. Jeff couldn't resist going over and giving his little girl a kiss. She was one third of his world. His only little girl and he knew that she had him tied up in knots.

All she had to do was cry and he wanted to give her the world. It was a testament to how incredible his children were that she hadn't abused that power—even though he knew she was aware of it.

Jeff was about to stand when Stacey's sleepy voice reached him. "Why was Lynn so sad, daddy?"

Jeff froze. _How was he supposed to answer that question?_ He hadn't even realized that Stacey had noticed.

"She just loves you a lot, sweetheart." Jeff replied after a moment. Stacey looked too tired to argue, so she just agreed.

"Love you so much, daddy," she told him and Jeff felt the weight lift off his shoulders. _God, his kids were something else._

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Jeff stayed until she fell into a deep slumber. And when he walked back downstairs—he wasn't surprised to see Lynn sitting on the couch—her knees pulled to her chest and her head on her knees.

Jeff knelt down in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. It only took a minute for her to peer at him over her knees. Seeing the tears streaming down her face shook him to his core. Jeff didn't say a word. He just opened his arms to her and in one motion; Lynn had fallen into his embrace.

The sobs that shook her made his heart burn with rage and sadness. No one deserved this type of heartache—especially not a woman that loved with everything she had. Feeling her pain—Jeff couldn't stop his own tears from escaping.

In a way, they were both grieving. They grieved for a life they once had and now it had been irreversibly changed.

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><p><strong>May 12, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**The InterContinental Hotel**

**New York City, New York**

**10:12PM**

"Finn, what the hell are you doing?"

Sam blinked rapidly. For the life of him, he couldn't process exactly what was going on in front of his face, but he kind of figured that he needed to understand—for his sanity.

Everything had been normal—until Finn walked into the room and sat down next to Sam on the bed. That didn't freak him out, but Finn wrapping his arms around Sam in a tight hug definitely threw him off his game.

"I was giving you a hug." Finn said as he pulled back. Sam gave him a dubious look.

"As nice as you are Finn," Sam said slowly, "I'm not really into having a sausage fest."

Finn's eyebrows sunk into a confused furrow, until he translated what Sam had said into Finn speak. And the horrified expression on Finn's face almost made Sam choke on a bark of laughter. The gangly teen leapt off the bed with red cheeks and a nervous laugh.

"No!" Finn protested. "It's not like that at all—I mean," Finn looked and sounded so flustered that Sam took pity on him. He waved the teen off with a light laugh.

Finn's mouth snapped shut immediately, but Sam could clearly see his mortification as he slumped into the armchair across from the bed. "Shit, this is so stupid."

Sam heard the mumble as clear as day. "What's going on dude?"

Finn wouldn't meet Sam's eyes. "I was just—I don't know—trying to make up for being a giant douche this whole year." The admission looked painful for the guy—if the pinched expression on his face said anything. He couldn't lie and say that he wasn't surprised—he really hadn't been expecting an apology from Finn for everything, but it was appreciated.

"I lied to you, made fun of you, wished that you got hurt by Grilled Cheesus and I stole your girlfriend," Finn voice was mostly sheepish, but there was sincere regret and anger to be heard. "I did you wrong, man."

"Nobody is perfect, Finn," Sam began, but Finn held up a hand. He stopped talking as the guy leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees.

"I did the exact same thing to you that Puck did to me," he said, "And it just made everything worse." Finn's head bowed and his fingers clutched at the strands of short dark hair atop his head. Sam winced. Some of his tugging looked painful. "And I don't even know why I did it. I can't even begin to understand why I'm so stupid. I've asked Kurt about all of it, but he says it's the flannel rooting ignorance in my brain or something dumb like that."

Sam had to smile a bit at that. Kurt was the master of snarky wit. He and Professor Snape would've been good friends.

"You talked to Kurt?" Sam asked. "Is that why you've been extra friendly and huggy?"

"He said that it's easier to show regret when being nice to someone or physically affectionate—and I hugged you; because I sure as hell wasn't gonna kiss you or anything."

"Finn, I don't need you to go all sappy on me, man." Sam told him, "All I need is an apology."

"No hugs?" Finn asked.

Sam shook his head.

"What about ice cream?" Finn questioned. Sam's eyebrows shot up.

"You have ice cream?"

When Finn lifted a plastic bag of ice cream pints from the floor, Sam couldn't stop laughing. Their relationship was far from repaired, but Finn was making an effort and that was more than Sam had even hoped for.

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><p><strong>May 13, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The InterContinental Hotel**

**New York City, New York**

**7:52AM**

"You know, prolonging the inevitable doesn't make it go away." Mercedes told Quinn as the blonde stepped out of the shower. Quinn wouldn't meet her eyes as she towel-dried her shortened blonde locks and then got herself dressed.

Mercedes allowed the silence to continue as she did her hair and brushed her teeth, but she decided enough was enough when Quinn practically ripped some of her hair out as she brushed it.

The diva snatched the brush out of her friend's hand and Quinn stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"You're going to break all your hair off if you keep doing that," Mercedes told her sternly, before gently untangling Quinn's damp hair with her fingers. Quinn didn't say a word as Mercedes softly brushed her hair.

"This won't be an easy road to travel, Quinn," Mercedes said softly. Quinn's green eyes rose from her lap and met Mercedes' stare in the mirror. "At some point, you're going to hate everything even more than you already do now."

"So what's the point?" Quinn snapped. "I'm already miserable. I don't need to add to it."

"Because even then you have the other side to look forward to," Mercedes responded.

"Haven't you heard that the grass isn't always greener on the other side?"

"Where you are right now the grass is freakin' black," Mercedes cracked, "There's only the possibility of a lighter color on the other side."

Quinn looked slightly ashamed after that. "What if I change, Mercy? What if I'm more unlikeable than before?"

"Someone wise once told me that people change and you can't stop that. You have to learn to forgive and forget—and yeah, that means working on the relationships that you damaged with people, but the only place you can go from rock bottom—_is up_. If you don't give _yourself_ a chance to _love you_, then no one else can. "

For a long moment, Quinn and Mercedes were stuck in a heavy silence—Mercedes praying that she had said enough to get Quinn to try. This was going to be even harder than she'd first thought. Her soul-sister was in the cracks at the bottom of the barrel and it wasn't going to take just some hugs and good times to help her find her footing again.

It reassured her when Quinn shakily reached out and pulled the prescription bottle out of her purse. She hesitated for a moment, but then she dry swallowed the two tablets quickly. Mercedes continued brushing Quinn's hair and once finished, the two shared a hug that expressed everything that they couldn't say at the moment.

They walked down the hallway to the elevators with their fingers entwined.

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><p><strong>May 13, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The InterContinental Hotel**

**New York City, New York**

**8:26AM**

"Dude, why would I want mousse in my hair?" Finn sputtered as he dodged Kurt's outstretched hand.

"So your hair will remain moisturized throughout the day," Kurt replied with a deep sigh. He looked woebegone about his brother's lack of style. Sam thought he would start crying soon if he didn't stop laughing.

"It looks like whipped cream," Finn snapped back—the wary look on his face and the distrustful glares he kept shooting the hair product in Kurt's hand was hysterical to Sam. "You're not trying to prank me or anything?"

"Oh my Gaga, Finn," Kurt said—his bluster making him glare at the taller boy, "Why on earth would I prank you right before we go to a Nationals competition? That would be stupid!"

"You've never tried to put mouse in my hair before!"

"It's _mousse,_ Finn!" Kurt retorted, "And you've never asked me for help with your hair before."

Artie, Puck, and Mike had left a few minutes before and Finn had been fretting over his hair in the mirror. Sam had jokingly suggested that he ask Kurt for help—he didn't think Finn would actually do it! The brunet boy had come in a hurry with a bag full of hair products.

Kurt had trimmed Finn's hair, but as soon as he whipped out the hair products—arguments had begun. Finn started by claiming that he wasn't a girl and didn't want any of that crap in his hair. And now, Sam was dying because Finn and Kurt arguing were way too hilarious.

"I said no, Kurt!" Finn protested, but he was blindsided when Kurt stepped closer to him.

"If you don't sit your tall self down _right now_, I will get my scissors and slice your hair off."

Finn didn't look like he knew what to do.

Kurt seemed mad enough to spit nails, so Finn let out a gusty sigh and plopped down on the bed. In seconds, Kurt descended upon him.

Five minutes later, Finn was admiring his hair in the mirror and Kurt was staring at him smugly. Sam just laughed as he ushered them out of the room. Kurt and Finn had a completely different relationship than he had with his siblings, but watching them together made him miss the munchkins something fierce.

But he shoved that to the back of his mind—his lady was downstairs waiting for him and probably looking more beautiful than ever. The thought of her put a big smile on his face, and he was happy that Finn and Kurt had launched into another bickering session, because his expression was probably far too sappy to be normal.

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><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear what you guys thought! Especially about the developing SamFinn friendship and the burgeoning Finn/Kurt relationship. Quinncedes will seem a bit odd for awhile, but things will change. Until next time! :D **

**Also, what are your thoughts on Season 3 so far? **


	25. Fly Me to the Moon

DISCLAIMER: On First Chapter.

Enjoy! This is one of my favorite chapters so far! :D

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><p><strong>May 13, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The InterContinental Hotel - Lobby**

**New York City, New York**

**8:47AM**

Sam couldn't believe that this was _it_.

Sure, they had arrived a couple of days before, but it wasn't the same. It was like a slap upside the head to realize New Directions had fucking _made it—_they were about to compete at a National Show Choir competition. The disbelief and pride Sam felt about being a part of something so incredible nearly overwhelmed him.

He could vaguely hear Kurt and Rachel's excited voices talking about how well they were going to perform, but Sam couldn't for the life of him get past the fact that he was actually_ here_—and wearing a pressed black button down shirt, a black vest, black pants, and a white tie that Mr. Schue had bought him.

He would have to thank him for that again later.

But right now, Sam was surrounded by his closest friends—some he'd even call family—and he was standing at the doors leading into a room filled to the brim with mingling people. Not only that, but in a few short hours—he'd be on that stage, under the bright spotlights and singing his heart out.

_Was it egotistical of him to really want to win?_

To prove to Jacob Ben Israel and all those people who had constantly put them down for the last few months that they were awesome. He would love to shove a trophy in their faces and say, "_Look at me now, bitch!"_

The satisfaction would be worth any sort of punishment he received.

He could hear all of the chatter going on around him and it finally clicked for him. He was doing what he loved, and despite all of the confusion and heartache this last year had caused him—he couldn't bring himself to regret the choices he'd made.

Mercedes' laughter brought him out of his thoughts. He couldn't help but smile as he spotted her out of the corner of his eye. She was standing with Tina and Mike—the three of them laughing hysterically. Her smile nearly blinded him.

_She was so beautiful_. Her brown eyes, her hair, her heart—it was all breathtaking and the fact that she was dating him of all people just blew him away. He stood there for a moment—the happiness he felt lightened his worries—and Sam knew he should stop staring, but she was just so _pretty_.

That halter dress with the black and sparkly beads, and her black ankle boots that cut off at the base of her calves—Sam just wanted to pull her in his arms and kiss her, but not only would Mercedes kill him for busting their secret wide open—he would be ashamed of such an inappropriate display. His momma had taught him better than that—even if he could hardly stand the thought of her right now.

He watched her laugh again—her head tossed back and her hair falling over her shoulders.

"You need to stop, Mike," she joked through her laughter, "The last thing we need is for someone to overhear you trash talking."

It was strange to date someone so independent. Mercedes didn't _need_ him—she had made that very clear before they even started dating, but she _**wanted**_ to be with him. It was so different from what he was used to with girls like Quinn—who seemed to flounder if they didn't have a boyfriend to latch onto.

Mercedes hated being victimized, but she also hated being crowded. And he liked that she didn't need him to be her boyfriend. There was just something wonderful about being_ desired _and not just a necessity. He didn't feel like an obligation and Sam was pretty damn sure that he could get spoiled if he felt like this forever.

Sam felt a grin sliding onto his face just as his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He jumped a little—it wasn't like he was expecting anyone to call him. He heard Mercedes, Tina, and Mike break out into peals of laughter again just as he fished his phone out of his pants pocket.

When he saw Lynn's name flashing across the screen—he beamed and quickly answered. Lynn had become a close confidant. She was hilarious and honest and caring. His gratitude knew no bounds—and he loved that Stacey and Stevie liked her just as much as he did. She had helped him get together with Mercedes, after all—and that was something he would never be able to repay.

"Hey Lynn," he greeted cheerfully as he walked away from the rest of the glee club. Sam didn't go far, but he found a quiet corner to stand in that was out of sight of his friends and away from the blather of the crowds moving through the entryway. He stood in front of a wall made out of windows and stared out at the city.

It was like watching a movie with no sound. People wearing all kinds of clothing passed each other without a second glance. Cabs drove past and buses puttered around street corners. Women with shopping bags in one hand and the other clutching an oversized bag—or a child—moved past.

"Hi Sam," Lynn replied—he could hear the exhaustion in her voice and it made him frown a bit. Lynn had never sounded tired or anything when he was there. _Was something wrong?_

"Lynn, are you okay?" he asked and Lynn chuckled on the other end.

"I'm quite alright, darlin'," she told him, "Don't you worry about me. I've just got some things to work out over here, but everything is okay."

"Are you sure?" Sam questioned warily—if anything happened to her or his family, Sam didn't know what to do. Lynn meant so much to him already. "Are you sick? Are Stevie and Stacey sick? Is my dad okay?"

His panic was building the more he thought about everything that could possibly be wrong, but Lynn snapped him out of it quickly.

"Samuel, stop and listen to me," she ordered—and even through the phone the sharp authority in her voice demanded his respect and complete attention. "No one is sick and I promise that I'm okay. It was just a long night—we'll talk more when you get home, but for right now, I don't want you to spend another second of your trip to New York worrying about me. Okay young man?"

Sam let out an explosive sigh, but he grudgingly agreed.

Lynn sounded happy about that when she spoke next. "So how's your trip going? Your competition is today, right? How's everything with your songs? Anything exciting happen? Are you safe? Eating your vegetables every day?"

Sam laughed at the role reversal—he knew exactly what she was trying to weasel out of him, but he wasn't giving in that easily.

"The trip has been amazing," Sam told her honestly, "I've been to places that I've only dreamed of going. I played hockey on an official arena. I've sang in Times Square. It's like a dream come true. Oh, and the food here is _amazing_. Mr. Schue took us to a sushi restaurant last night and it was delicious!"

Lynn laughed on the other end of the line. "New York does have its' niches—sushi being one of them."

"And yeah, our competition is today," Sam said, "To tell you the truth—I'm scared to death of getting on that stage and tripping over my own two feet. I'm not the most graceful dancer. And what if I forget the lyrics or the dance moves—"

"Sam, stop psyching yourself out," Lynn responded directly to his growing anxiety. He didn't understand how he always ended up showing his insecurities around her. "You're going to perform like the amazing star that you are, and you're going to rock those dance moves."

Sam laughed. "I'm pretty sure I've told you about how awful my dancing skills are."

"Yes, you have," Lynn replied, "but Mercedes didn't seem to mind those dance moves at prom."

And there she was—hedging again. The barely contained curiosity in her voice was incredibly amusing. He knew what she was eagerly poking at without saying, but teasing her was so much fun.

"I guess," Sam agreed, completely ignoring the blatant invitation to tell her about him and Mercedes. "But we just finished writing the songs yesterday and choreographing everything—I just hope I have everything down."

"Darlin', you're going to be amazing," she told him, "Just have faith in yourself and get on that stage with nothing but love of singing in your heart. It'll take you further than you think."

Once again with the good advice—Sam didn't know what he would do without these constant spouts of wisdom in his life. "What's going on over there? Stacey's recital is next weekend, right?"

"Yeah," Lynn answered, "She's crazy excited about it. I'm sure she'll tell you all about it when she comes back inside. The twins and your father are giving Marley a bath right now—and I'm inside watching as Jeff tries to hold the dog in place while they scrub her. I find it hilarious that your father is genius when it comes to architecture and math, but he hasn't figured out that he could leash Marley to the tree and put her in the tub."

Sam couldn't stop laughing for a minute or two. Lynn was giggling by the time he stopped chortling. "Is she driving you crazy with rehearsing?" Sam questioned.

"Not yet," Lynn said, "She always says that 'Sammy will help me more when he gets back', but she has taken to singing with me every day while I'm cooking dinner. And she asked me to show her some notes on the piano, but she's young and she's obsessed with taking care of Marley. She's the first one ready to take her out for a walk in the evenings."

"Sounds like my sister," Sam replied—he couldn't mask the fondness for his little sister. He missed those kids. "How's Stevie?"

"Wonderful," Lynn told him, "His math teacher told him about this kids forensics camp that they have in Pennsylvania over the summer—so he's been trying to recruit me to his side before asking his dad. Like_ I_ can convince your father to let his eight year old go study the basics of homicide for two weeks in another state."

Lynn sounded amused and fondly exasperated. Sam laughed. "Do you know how long it took me to stop him from marching back into that airport and taking you back home?" she said, "And you're eighteen years old. There's not a chance in hell that he's going to let Stevie out of his sight for that long at eight years old."

That sounded like his dad. Jeffrey Evans was a wonderful father—but that also meant he was protective. He would probably let Stevie go, but only after some serious convincing. Sam was a bit sketchy on the idea too—he understood why it would be a good opportunity, but Stevie being away for that long and so far away? Sam wasn't sure if he could handle his little brother going on that trip.

"We'll have to see on that one," Sam responded and Lynn suddenly groaned.

"Okay," she said, "Are you gonna tell me or not?"

Sam smirked. "Tell you what?" he asked innocently.

"Tell me how_ everything_ went?" Lynn replied.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lynn," Sam retorted with an amused quirk of the lips.

"_Samuel Evans_!" Lynn exclaimed in mock-anger. Sam laughed at her impatience. He finally decided to put her out of her misery. She had helped him after all.

"Everything was," Sam took a moment to search for words, but nothing fit. That first date with Mercedes was a thing of dreams, the moments that only happen in the movies—it sounded like a fairytale. "Everything was _indescribable."_ That word seemed to partially explain how he felt.

"She loved every minute of it," Sam said softly, "She looked beautiful. We laughed, we ate, and it felt like we were right where we were meant to be. It was the best night of my life." Sam heard Lynn sigh happily on the other end of the line.

Images of Mercedes from that night were burned into his brain—he wanted to relive that night over and over again, but he also wanted to move forward, because moments even more amazing awaited them—_he just knew it_.

Sam glanced around himself to make sure that he was alone, before saying, "I asked her to be my girlfriend." The smile that spread over his face was sappy as _fuck_. Just seeing his reflection on the glass made him disgusted, but he liked it. "And she said yes."

Lynn's squeal made his smile widen. His cheeks almost started hurting. But then he remembered that Mercedes hadn't really wanted anyone to know just yet. "Can you keep it quiet for a little bit?" he asked, "Cedes didn't really want anyone to know about us just yet."

"Of course, darlin'," Lynn agreed immediately, "but you do plan on telling your dad soon right? I'm happy for you and I think you and Mercedes will be fantastic together, but I don't want to overstep my bounds in anything like this—your father is my friend too."

"I know," Sam replied—he could respect that, "I don't think we're going to keep it secret for long—just until we get comfortable with the relationship ourselves."

"I'm so happy for you, Sam!" Lynn said exuberantly. Her excitement made him smile. "I'd love to talk more, but your siblings are heading inside, so I'm gonna let you talk to them, okay?"

"Sure thing," Sam replied, "I'm always up for talking with the munchkins."

Sam heard the faint sound of a door opening and then loud voices and laughter. Lynn's voice was muffled as she spoke for a moment, but then there was the sound of two joyous cries and he was sucked into a conversation with his little brother and sister.

Talking to them one at a time was like controlling a hyperactive squirrel, but _both_ of them was a nightmare. Somehow he managed to hold a conversation with both of them for about ten minutes when he heard someone call his name.

"Hey guys, hold on one second, okay?" he said into the phone, before he turned to look over his shoulder. He blinked when he saw Mercedes standing there with a slight smile on her face.

"Cedes, hey," he greeted, but that was a mistake because there was an explosion of noise in his ear.

Sam winced as he pulled the phone away. Stacey's loud scream of "_Mercy_!" was way louder than he'd been expecting. "Stacey wants to talk to you," Sam said—still rubbing his ear.

Mercedes looked confused for a moment, before she laughed as she moved to his side and took the phone out of his hand. Sam watched as her eyes lit up after she'd said hello. Mercedes started grinning almost immediately, and Sam was mesmerized. He listened as she talked her way through a phone conversation with both of his siblings like a pro.

It had taken him years of experience to master that skill and Mercedes was doing it like it was easy. He smiled down at her in amazement. It warmed his heart to know that his siblings liked her so much, and he loved that she was so close to them already.

Sam spared the empty area around them a quick glance, before he stepped behind Mercedes and placed his hands on her bare shoulders. She looked at him askance for a moment, but Sam just grinned at her. Her skin was so soft and smooth and he loved the feeling as he ran his hands lightly down her arms until her reached her elbows.

Without hesitating, he tugged her lightly until she stood against his chest and then he wrapped his arms around her waist—listening to her talk. He placed his chin down on her shoulder and turned his head until his head was basically buried in the junction of her neck and shoulder.

Sam placed a soft kiss there and then he placed another just behind her ear. The pride he felt couldn't be tamed as he heard the momentary hitch in her breath. She stumbled over a couple of words, but recovered brilliantly.

Sam felt like a BAMF. He made Mercedes stutter. _There was no greater feeling. _

She smelled like lilies and cinnamon and he loved it. Sam placed his chin atop her head and just let the conversation flow over him. It wasn't until speaker phone was turned on that he had to pay attention to something besides how wonderful Mercedes felt in his embrace—that he spoke.

They talked for almost half an hour—the four of them plus Lynn and his dad occasionally. It was bittersweet when the conversation had to end. Sam and Mercedes needed to rejoin the group in a few minutes. Stacey and Stevie sounded so upset that they wouldn't get to see the performance, but Sam promised to make it up to them somehow.

When Mercedes finally pressed the end button, Sam missed his family more than ever, but his homesickness was pushed to the back of his mind as Mercedes slowly turned around in his arms. She looked up at him with those big brown eyes of hers and Sam couldn't resist leaning his forehead against hers.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked quietly and Mercedes smiled.

"I've been ready for this my whole life," she sassed and Sam chuckled as her arms went around his neck. When he felt her fingers comb through the hairs on the back of his head, he smiled.

"Is it bad that I want to compete, but I really don't want to let you go so we can walk over there?" he questioned. Mercedes gave him a fond look.

"Stop being a sap and let's go kick some show choir ass," she said before she took her fingers from his hair and gently stepped out of his embrace. Sam grabbed her before she could walk even two steps.

"Not before I do this, though," he told her. Mercedes didn't even have time to form a confused expression before Sam had attached his lips to hers. And by golly did she taste as amazing and felt as soft as she did before. Mercedes didn't fight him at all.

Their lips moved together—slowly but surely and Sam didn't want to stop, but they really did have to go. He pulled away with one more soft peck to those lips of hers. Mercedes' eyes were glazed slightly and she didn't say anything, but the smile on her face told him everything he needed to know.

* * *

><p><strong>May 13, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Lynn's House **

**Lima, Ohio**

**9:46AM**

As soon as Lynn hung up the phone, Jeff clapped his hands and said, "Upstairs kiddos! You both need to shower and put on clean clothes. Then it's time for chores—so make sure you put the clothes in the dirty laundry basket before you bring them downstairs."

They both looked on the verge of whining, but Jeff made sure to nip that one in the bud. He gave them a stern look that had both of their mouths snapping shut without a word of complaint coming out.

"Okay daddy," Stacey said, before she grabbed her brother's hand and tugged him towards the stairs. Lynn wanted to laugh really hard when she saw Jeff melt into a puddle of goo at his daughter's words.

She waited until the two were out of sight before saying, "Is it _daddy_'s girl or _girl_'s daddy?"

The quip made Jeff laugh. "I'm not even sure anymore," he replied, "That kid has me wrapped around her finger."

"More like she has you hog-tied and put in a frilly basket," Lynn cracked and Jeff gasped in mock-anger.

"You're gonna get it for that one," he said and Lynn laughed.

"I'm so scared," she cried, "Jeffrey's gonna come after me with his bows and lace."

"No," he replied, "I'm gonna come after you with my dirty doggy water soaked shirt and dog hair covered pants."

"_Don't you dare_!" Lynn stated as she backed away from the blonde man—just now realizing that he was covered head to toe in dog hair and dirty water soaked his shirt through. Jeff just shot her a playful smirk.

She took off running when Jeff reached out to grab her. She dodged his hands and he chased after her.

"You better not even think about it, Jeff!" she told him as she ran around the kitchen counter. Jeff halted on the opposite side and tried to circle around to get her, but Lynn went the other way.

"I'm not thinking, Lynn," he told her with a devious grin, "It's totally going to happen." He sprinted around the counter, but Lynn made it to the other side without him catching her.

"You are not touching me with those clothes on, Jeffrey Evans!" she whisper-yelled at him.

"Can I touch you without them?" he joked and Lynn couldn't keep her jaw from dropping as she burst out laughing. Her face was warmer than the morning sun, and she thanked God that she was black, because she would've been bright red otherwise.

"Was that a sincere offer?" Lynn asked—knowing that she was totally crossing into flirting territory, but she wasn't about to shut him down. It's not like she hadn't considered the fact that Jeffrey Evans was an extremely attractive man.

"Were you going to say yes?" Jeff retorted.

"What if I did?" she said.

"Then hell yeah I was offering," Jeff quipped and Lynn couldn't stop laughing. Jeff was blushing too, but he had a playful grin on his face.

"You're gonna have to catch me first," she shot back, before Lynn darted out of the room past a gaping Jeff. She heard him chase after her only moments later, but he wasn't quick enough to stop her from sprinting outside into the backyard.

The two of them ran circles around each other. Lynn made Jeff chase her back and forth across the backyard—neither of them giving up. They trash talked the whole time—both of them breaking out into fits of laughter every few minutes.

"_Damn_ woman," Jeff exclaimed about twenty minutes later as he slowed down to a stop. He wiped the sweat off his face with the bottom of his t-shirt, but then he cringed when the foul smell of the dirty water got into his nose. Lynn was practically in tears of hilarity after seeing his expression. "You run like a freakin' gazelle."

"I ran track for years, Jeffrey," Lynn told him, "And I run in the mornings—how do you think I stay in shape?"

The perverted grin he shot her made her laugh. She really didn't want to know what his first thought had been. But she let out a short squeal when he suddenly rushed towards her; Lynn darted to the left, but Jeff blocked her path.

And before she knew what was happening she was swept up into his arms—Lynn let out a groan of dismay and then giggled when he spun them around in circles. He only collapsed when they were both dizzy as hell. Lynn found herself sprawled on top of Jeff—her back to his chest.

She would be lying to herself if she said that Jeff didn't feel muscular and toned and sexy. Eventually she made herself roll off of him and she landed on her stomach right next to him. He gave her a sparkling grin that made her roll her eyes.

"Now we both have to shower!" she complained playfully.

"I do smell kind of awful, don't I?" he questioned.

"Yes!" Lynn replied, "You need a shower—with _extra_ scrub."

"It's your dog's fault!" Jeff responded, "Marley is one hyperactive puppy, and don't think I didn't see you sitting on the couch laughing at me earlier."

Lynn laughed again. "Yeah, that's because you didn't even think to leash the dog to the tree and then put her in the tub."

Jeff silently gaped at her for a moment; before he let his head fall back in the grass and facepalmed. "I'm an idiot," he admitted—Lynn chuckled—"How did I not even think of that?"

Lynn laughed again and Jeff joined in sheepishly. A few seconds later, Lynn hefted herself off the ground and offered Jeff a hand. "I need to shower and you _definitely_ need to shower. Stacey and Stevie are probably done with their baths by now and chores will take them forty-minutes max. So up and at 'em!"

Jeff groaned but he accepted the help up.

They walked inside together in a comfortable silence. The flirting from earlier hadn't been forgotten, but Lynn didn't know how to bring it up yet—not saying anything was probably wise because she had no idea what she was doing with Jeff.

He didn't speak until she was about to step inside her room—which was down the hall from his. "Oh, and Lynn," he called to her. She glanced over at him and he gave her a kind smile. "I have a surprise for you later tonight—so don't make any evening plans, alright?"

Then he walked inside the room and closed the door before she could even gather her obliterated thoughts. Lynn gaped at the empty hallway for a moment—filled with wonder and curiosity, but eventually she walked into her room to shower. She'd get some answers later—when she didn't smell like wet dog.

* * *

><p><strong>May 13, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The InterContinental Hotel – Room Four**

**New York City, New York**

**10:33AM**

Rachel and Finn are going on in twelve minutes. And Sam's emotions kept switching between heel-clicking excitement and knee-weakening terror. The confidence boost from talking with his family had all but disappeared as soon as he and Mercedes had been sucked into the bubble of Glee members once more.

Puck was constantly telling himself that he was a bad ass and nothing was more bad ass than him. Lauren was watching him with a raised eyebrow—nothing she'd said had worked so far to calm him down. Quinn was sitting in a corner by herself; and she looked really conflicted. He didn't know what was wrong, but that wasn't his problem at the moment.

Artie and Mr. Schue were talking about something. He couldn't hear from his position on the other side of the room, but they were both really animated.

Rachel and Kurt were going over scales. Tina, Mike, and Finn were going over dance moves again. Sam had no idea what Santana was whispering in Brittany's ear, but the blonde would giggle every few seconds.

And Mercedes was laid down on the couch—her eyes were closed and her hands rested on her stomach. She looked relaxed and Sam found himself moving towards her. He lowered himself to the ground and plopped down right by her chest. Mercedes' eyes opened and she looked surprised but happy to see him so close.

"Hey boyfriend," she whispered and just hearing her say that made him happy.

"Hi girlfriend," Sam replied just as quietly. Sam met her eyes and Mercedes gave him a twinkling gaze in return.

"I meant to tell you earlier," Mercedes said, "but _someone _distracted me." The pointed look she gave him made him laugh softly. "Anyway, I think you look _smokin'_. All black and that white tie—you're looking mighty fine."

Sam felt the blush flare across his face before he could even attempt to fight down the embarrassment. He would be lying if he didn't sit up a little straighter after that though. He liked knowing that Mercedes found him attractive—especially when he had trouble taking his eyes off of her.

"Well, I think you look stunning," he replied and Mercedes shot him a grin.

"Thanks Blondie," she responded.

"No problem, Nala," he said, before facing forward again. Sam leaned his head back until it fell against the edge of the couch. He twitched when he felt a hand carding through his hair.

"Isn't this risky?" Sam asked—he didn't care if anyone knew about them, but he knew that Mercedes did. And her practically petting him in a room full of their friends probably wasn't a good decision if they wanted to keep this a secret.

"No one's paying attention," Mercedes told him as she gently scratched his scalp. God, if that didn't feel good. Sam let his eyes fall closed and he just enjoyed the sweetness of the moment.

"You're much nicer about hair than Kurt is," Sam blurted and he heard Mercedes laugh quietly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Finn asked Kurt for help with his hair this morning, and they were having this really loud argument the whole time," Sam told her before he reenacted the whole conversation. Finn with a deep voice and Kurt with a high pitched one. Mercedes was dying of laughter by the time he finished.

"That sounds exactly like them arguing," Mercedes choked out between giggles. "They're ridiculous!"

"At least I'm not the only one who thinks so," Sam stated with a wide grin. He watched her roll around in the couch cushions and he couldn't help but smile.

"Speaking of ridiculous," Mercedes said once she'd finished laughing. "I met Emma Watson yesterday."

"YOU _WHAT?"_ Sam exclaimed. He was pretty sure that he'd almost given himself whiplash when he snapped to attention that quickly. He could feel his eyes bugging out of his head as he stared at a chuckling Mercedes.

She wouldn't tease him with something like this. "Did you really meet Emma?" Sam asked and when Mercedes nodded—Sam felt his inner fanboy swelling to the surface. She had met Emma Watson who played Hermione Granger. Mercedes had practically met the smartest witch of her time.

Sam didn't know what to do with himself. Mercedes' snorting brought him out of his wonderland. "Sam, you look like you have stars in your eyes."

"You met Emma Watson," Sam said reverently, "What happened? Were you singing? I bet you were singing. Your song is like a siren—it just attracts people. Did she talk to you?"

Mercedes was smiling, but she happily explained everything that went down. Sam was so flustered by the time that she finished that he didn't know what to do or say anymore. They probably would've talked more, but the stage hand came back to let them know that they were performing in three minutes.

Sam hefted himself off the floor and then he helped Mercedes off the couch. Everyone else started filing out of the room; Sam and Mercedes at the back. Before they walked through the doorway—Sam brushed his fingers against hers and that was enough for them.

* * *

><p><strong>May 13, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The InterContinental Hotel – Main Stage**

**New York City, New York**

**10:48AM**

Mercedes was still in disbelief of the giant cluster fuck that had gone down onstage not thirty seconds ago. She couldn't believe Finn and Rachel—and while she was all for them being together and being in love—she was not happy that they decided to have their dramatic moment on the Nationals stage. The only thing she could do was perform her heart out and make up for what could potentially cost them the trophy.

So when the music started, Mercedes made sure to focus on what made her happy—her family, her friends, her boyfriend—and the zing of energy she felt race up her spine couldn't be dismissed. She glanced over at Sam for a brief moment—taken aback by the smile that spread over her features when she saw him gazing back. He winked at her, before he settled into position.

Mercedes thought he looked sexy in everything he wore, but she would have to get her man in form-fitting black clothes more often.

Full of joy, she couldn't resist getting into the music as soon as the opening notes started playing.

Her hips moved to the beat as she stomped her foot. Sam gave her a dorky grin as she spun past him. She couldn't help but be amused by how hard he was dancing. He looked like he was having a great time. She moved with her friends back and forth across that stage like a true diva. She could tell that they all had a great time. And the satisfaction she got from the audience's reaction was overwhelming.

The performance felt far too short for Mercedes' liking. When they ended on a dramatic note—the excitement was still surging through her veins—and her fist was still thrown in the air. The screams of the audience had her laughing and yelling along. Nothing had ever felt more right.

It was only made better when she was blindsided by Sam. He hefted her in the air and Mercedes let out a surprised laugh, but she hugged him back. Sam pulled away after a few seconds—the audience still cheering around them and their fellow Glee members exchanging hugs. His hand stayed on her waist as she stared up at him.

His green eyes were shining—they didn't carry the burden of poverty or concern that was usually there. He seemed happy—_truly happy_ and Mercedes could barely breathe because of how wonderful that made her feel. She loved making him smile, but the fact that Sam could feel like this without her help—Jesus, it did things to her heart and stomach.

She could tell by the way he kept glancing down at her lips that he wanted to kiss her. And she would be lying if she said she didn't want him to do so, but now was not the time or place. She gave him a smile and the loving grin she got back in return made her heart swell.

Sam gently brushed her hair behind her ear, but his fingers traced down her cheek and across her bottom lip. It only took about four seconds, but it felt like forever before he dropped his hands and stepped away from Mercedes.

This whole not-jumping Sam thing was going to be way harder than she'd first thought.

Blondie had some intense game, and the fact that he didn't even realize it made him even sexier. She stared after him as he trekked across the stage and wrapped Puck in a quick hug. She was distracted by a giddy Tina only a few seconds later.

She didn't notice a suspicious and shocked Quinn watching the whole time.

* * *

><p><strong>May 13, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**6:05PM**

"Are you going to tell me what this surprise is or not?" Lynn demanded as Jeff finished tossing his sheets into the washing machine. She had been trying to get the truth out of him all day, but Jeff just laughed it off.

Him and his son—they were too much alike. Lynn pouted when Jeff didn't answer her. She stood there waiting patiently as he glanced down at his watch and said, "Yep."

She blinked in surprise as Jeff gently steered her out of the laundry room. "Stevie! Stacey! Grab your bags and come downstairs!" he called to them. Lynn's brows furrowed as she heard the two of them thundering out of the living room where they had been watching cartoons and both of them raced upstairs.

"What's going on?" she asked, completely bewildered. Jeff gave her a sly smile as he snatched his keys off the hook by the door and grabbed his wallet—stuffing it into his pocket.

"You're going to go upstairs and get all dressed up and I'll be back," he told her.

Lynn stared at him.

Her confusion only increased when Stacey and Stevie slid past her—backpacks thrown over their shoulders. "Dressed up? What do you mean? And where are you going?" Lynn asked slowly.

Jeff shot her a wink. "Trust me, okay?"

Lynn studied him for a few moments before she nodded hesitantly and Jeff beamed. He ushered the kids out of the door saying, "Be ready in forty five minutes!" Lynn was gob smacked to say the least, but there wasn't anything she could do.

She had no idea what was going on here, but it had been awhile since she got all dressed up for anything. _Might as well go with the flow. _She headed upstairs—already debating outfits in her mind.

* * *

><p><strong>May 13, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**6:56PM**

Jeff burst through the door—excitement building in his chest. He was wearing a brand new suit that was black with white pinstripes and a cerulean blue dress shirt and shiny black shoes. He looked pretty darn good if he said so himself.

He hoped Lynn liked her surprise. It had been last minute to say the least, but he was grateful that it had all worked out in his favor. Jeff checked himself over in the mirror one last time—before he walked to the bottom of the stairs and called, "Hey Lynn, you ready?"

"I'll be down in a second, Jeffrey!" she replied and he couldn't stop the huge grin from spreading across his face.

Jeff hadn't done anything like this before. He and Elizabeth had a very calm, very easy relationship, but Lynn meant so much to him already and he'd learned so much about her. She was very different from his soon to be ex-wife, but she had become his best friend.

And he loved that they were such good friends. She deserved a night to just relax and be happy. And Jeff hoped that this would be it for her.

He was ripped from his thoughts by the sound of her footsteps coming down the stairs. Jeff's jaw dropped when he saw her. He'd always found Lynn cute and adorable. He knew she was attractive, but he'd never called her sexy out loud or in his mind.

The Lynn he was looking at right now was _sexy as hell._

She was wearing three inch black heels that had black satiny ribbons threaded all the way up her calves. Her dress stopped a little past mid thigh. She was wearing a black dress with a halter top that had straps wrapping around her back and criss-crossing in the back. The whole dress looked like it was made of lace with a solid black fabric beneath. It was form fitting and Lynn's figure was _heart stopping_.

Jeff wasn't a pervert, but the sweet heart neckline put Lynn's chest on display in a very elegant way, and _damn._

She curled her hair again and it looked amazing.

"_Sweet baby Jesus and my momma's grits_," Jeff muttered—he was still gaping and he knew he looked like an idiot.

Lynn laughed and Jeff stared at her mouth which was glossed in this soft pink lipstick that he wanted to kiss. _And holy crab cakes, where was all this coming from?_

He hadn't had sex in a looonnnnnggggggg time. He and Elizabeth stopped being together when things started going downhill in Tennessee, but he wasn't a douche-bag. He wasn't even going to attempt to be with Lynn unless there were some serious feelings there. She meant too much to him and his family.

But at the rate they'd been going—he wouldn't be surprised if it did happen.

"You look incredible," he told her honestly and Lynn beamed. Her hazel eyes were sparkling and Jeff couldn't help but blush.

"You look mighty spiffy yourself, Mr. Evans," she replied. Jeff blushed even harder, but he extended his elbow to her. She shyly took it with a bright smile.

"Thank you," he said, "Shall we go?"

"It'd be my pleasure, kind sir," Lynn responded, "Are you going to tell me where we're going?"

"Nice try," he said with a laugh, "but not yet."

The pout Lynn gave him had him grinning smugly at her. She hit him with her clutch purse and he laughed as he escorted her out of the door and to his truck.

* * *

><p><strong>May 13, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Vanilla Almond Restaurant**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:27PM**

When they walked into the restaurant, Lynn's face lit up. _Vanilla Almond_ was on the outskirts of Lima, but it had a great reputation. It had decent pricing, and was rated five stars by restaurant critics all over the world.

The entire inside was soft white and lacy and there was a live band playing in the corner—mostly old tunes, but they were really good. Lynn was already dancing as she glanced around at everything. Jeff congratulated himself for choosing a good place to take her for the evening.

The host walked over with a kind smile. "May I help you?"

"Oh," Jeff said suddenly. He blushed as Lynn gave him an amused smile. "Yeah, I have reservations for two under Evans."

The host beckoned them over to the podium and he flipped through a leather bound book. He said, "Ah, here you are sir." Then he pulled two brown leather menus from under the podium and said, "I'll escort you to your table."

Lynn was still staring around at everything as they were led to their table. She brightened even further when she saw that their table was right next to the dance floor and pretty close to the band, but not so close that they couldn't talk to each other.

When they were seated, Lynn smiled at Jeff. "This place is beautiful!" she said happily, "But how did you find it? And where on Earth are the kids?"

"They're at David and Delia's house," Jeff admitted and Lynn blinked. He laughed at the nonplussed expression on her face. "I called David earlier this morning and asked him to help me out. I told him that you needed a break and they were like of course she does—she works too hard. So we schemed and I decided that a night of good food—that you _didn't _cook—and music was what you needed."

Lynn stared at him for a moment, before she said, "Thank you, Jeffrey."

"It's no problem," he replied, "You've done so much for me and you're such a wonderful addition to my family that I wanted to show you that it's not one sided."

Lynn looked both moved and completely speechless, but the smile she gave him after a moment of silence made his heart beat faster. They were interrupted by their water coming over and asking them what they'd like to drink.

Dinner passed in a flurry of conversation and wonderful dining. Lynn ordered Athenian pasta with shrimp and Jeff had a sirloin and mashed potatoes. Lynn ended up stealing food off his plate though and he had to bat her sneaky fork away from his steak more than once.

She got him back though when he tried a bite of her pasta and it was freaking delicious. And she wouldn't let him have anymore. They only had one glass of wine because they had to drive home, but the one they did have was delicious.

It was a meal full of laughter and joking and just plain ridiculousness. Lynn shared stories about her college years and Jeff told her some stories about his children. Sam would hate him for all the potential blackmail he'd given Lynn, but he didn't care. Jeff hadn't had such a good time in a long while.

It was only when the live band started playing "Fly Me to the Moon" by Frank Sinatra that the two of them stopped talking. Lynn's eyes lit up and Jeff smiled. He was a bit bemused to see her dab her mouth with her napkin, before she stood up.

Lynn walked around the table—looking even more amazing than she did when she'd first walked down those stairs—and offered him a hand. "Jeffrey Evans, will you do me the honor of being my dance partner?"

Jeff stared for a moment. "Is it okay if I suck?"

She laughed. "I won't judge," she replied, "I promise."

And with that, Jeff took her hand and stood up. The two walked onto the dance floor and with a rush of bravado, he swung her into his arms. She looked surprised, but happy. The dance was cheesy to the max, but Lynn just laughed it off as she sang the song.

It wasn't perfect—Jeff stumbled a couple of times, but Lynn just beamed at him and they kept going. He even managed to spin her a couple of times which got her to laugh. They danced for almost an hour—the band going into Diana Ross renditions and even some Whitney Houston.

Jeff couldn't remember ever having so much fun on a dance floor. Lynn could dance circles around him and he knew that her swiveling hips had caught the eye of more than one man in the room, but she paid them no attention.

The laugh she let out when Jeff bust into the sprinkler was _glorious_—her head was thrown back and her smile was blinding. When she looked at him again, her short curls fell across her forehead and her hazel eyes were dancing. Jeff's breath caught in his throat just looking at her. And when she did the mashed potato and then the tootsie roll—Jeff knew he was in trouble.

Lynn swung her hips from side to side and danced around him in a tight circle. She was beautiful and funny and captivating and he never wanted to stop making her laugh or smile.

Jeff was pretty damn sure that what he was feeling was way more than friendship or at least the _beginning_ of more. He hadn't felt anything like this when he'd married Elizabeth. He'd been happy and he loved her, but _this_—these feelings were something he'd never experienced.

Jeff felt like he was high every time she laughed at his antics or grinned at something he said.

_Lynnette Orchid_, even her name sounded beautiful in his head—he had no idea what he was doing, but he didn't plan on stopping now.

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><p><strong>May 13, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The InterContinental Hotel **

**New York City, New York**

**8:11PM**

Almost all of New Directions had gone out for dinner with Mr. Schue—however; Rachel had sequestered herself into the bathroom out of shame and probably, fear.

Santana was still seething, but at least she had come down from full Spanish to switching between English and Spanish. Trying to claw Rachel's face off had made her hungry apparently. Mercedes had been relaxing in the empty room—all of the other girls having gone downstairs to eat a late dinner.

Soon enough though she'd gotten bored and went to find Sam in the boys' room down the hall. She raised her hand to knock, but the door swung open. She and Finn blinked at each other in surprise.

"Hey Mercedes," he said quietly, "Are you hear to cuss me out too?"

Poor kid had practically gotten whiplash when Santana turned her sharp tongue on him. The Latina had done a number on his confidence; that was for sure.

Mercedes had even winced at some of the things that were said. It had all been put to an end though when Rachel burst into tears—or when Santana had leapt at Rachel and the boys had to hold her back from attacking.

She felt kind of bad that she had been enraptured by Sam's biceps as he held onto the girl kicking at Rachel, but she was honest with herself—she was pissed about the loss too.

"No," Mercedes told him finally. The tall boy looked relieved. "I'm sure you've been yelled at enough already."

Finn gave her a helpless shrug. "I screwed up," he admitted, "I deserve it."

"So what are you going to do next time we're on a competition stage?" Mercedes asked. And Finn blushed.

"Stay far away from Rachel's lips," he replied with a laugh. Mercedes winked at him.

"Look at that—learning from your mistakes already," she stated, "No need for yelling from me."

Finn smiled. "I'm heading down to grab some dinner. You want to come with?"

"Nah," she replied with a shake of her head, "I'm not hungry. I'll just head back to my room."

"Oh," Finn responded, "Well, Sam's inside if you're bored. He wasn't too hungry either."

Sam was in the boys' room after all. _Score for Mercedes!_

"Thanks Finn," she told him as he opened the door wider to let her in.

Not giving herself a chance to second guess anything—she wrapped the tall boy into a warm hug. She wasn't surprised when he hugged her back.

"Everything will cool down," she said with a smile after stepping away. She couldn't be mad at him anymore—especially not when she could clearly see how guilty he felt. Finn was a sweet guy. He didn't make the best choices all the time, but he _did_ care. He just needed to learn some tact.

"For now though, I suggest you give Santana _at least_ five hundred feet. And don't trust anything she gives you. She'll calm down soon enough," Mercedes advised and Finn nodded in reply.

"Thanks Mercedes," he responded.

"No problem, Finn."

She watched him walk out of the room and then she gently closed the door. Mercedes turned around and walked into the actual bedroom—where she saw duffel bags and clothes everywhere. But she didn't see Sam anywhere until she glanced at the double doors that led to the balcony and spotted his tall form leaning against the railing.

Mercedes slipped off her shoes and walked to the door wearing her patterned socks. She had showered and changed clothes not soon after everyone had left. She was wearing a gray cotton dress with a comfy white sweater. She had left her hair down and straight, but she still brushed it out with her fingers.

It was slightly ridiculous to worry about what she looked like, but Sam was her boyfriend and she liked looking good for him. She walked outside after double checking her appearance in the mirror one more time.

She could tell he heard the door open because he tensed, but Sam didn't turn around. "I already said I wasn't hungry, Finn," he said—his voice was slightly exasperated. Mercedes smiled.

"I'm sure I would care if I was Finn," she teased and Sam's head snapped around.

"Cede, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"I got bored sitting all by my lonesome in the girls' room," she replied as she closed the glass door behind her and walked over to him. He looked happy to see her.

"Isn't Rachel still in hiding?" he inquired with a laugh as he stretched a hand out to her. Mercedes took it with a soft grin. Sam entwined their fingers and tugged her closer.

"She is," Mercedes agreed as she was gently brought into Sam's personal space, "She's locked herself into the bathroom. It took me forever to convince her to come out so I could shower, but then she went right back in."

Sam shook his head in amusement. "Well, I'm glad that you came here," he said causing Mercedes to beam at him. The things this boy did to her heart should be illegal. "I actually thought about calling you, but Finn was in the room still and I really don't think I would've been able to resist epic cuddling time with you."

Mercedes laughed. "We've never cuddled before!" she said.

Sam shrugged. "So?"

"So how do you know that it will be _epic _cuddling time if we've never cuddled before?"

"_Because everything with you is epic_," Sam said absentmindedly, "Talking is epic. Eating is epic. Even doing homework is epic." Mercedes gave him a sarcastic quirk of the lips that had Sam laughing as he grabbed her free hand in his other one and tangled their fingers together. "Hand holding is epic. Hugging is epic. Laughing is epic."

He swung their locked hands a couple of times before lifting them both to his face and kissing the back of each of her hands. Mercedes' heart was pounding.

Sam held their hands in the air as he leaned forward. "_Kissing_ is epic."

"Is it really?" she breathed.

"Oh, yes," Sam agreed, "Your soft, sweet kisses drive me crazy."

"I don't know," she whispered as she looked up at him from beneath her lashes, "I think I'm going to need more proof than hearsay."

Sam smiled and Mercedes blushed like crazy. She couldn't believe that she was flirting this hard, but Sam was responding and Mercedes didn't regret anything.

"I'm all for gathering more evidence," Sam said, before he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was slow and sweet and sensual. Mercedes felt Sam place her hands on his shoulders before he released her fingers and dropped his hands to her waist. He pulled her closer to his body and Mercedes felt heat travel from her mouth and spread through her entire body.

_Everything was kissing Sam Evans and nothing hurt. _

Her whole body was tingling as he kissed her—his lips moving in sync with hers; his tongue sweeping across her bottom lip and the soft nips of teeth he threw in every few seconds. She felt like she was going to explode. They would release, breathe and go straight back to kissing. _Was this making out?_

Was she supposed to feel electrified and hypersensitive everywhere his hands touched? Her brain was a mess of hormones and she felt like something short-circuited when his lips trailed down the side of her neck.

He kissed her again and Mercedes felt something deep in her body burn white hot and she let out a gasp of shock. Sam stopped kissing her abruptly and looked at her in concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked breathlessly. Mercedes found herself significantly aroused by the sight of his mussed hair and the bright redness of his lips. _Fuck all if her boyfriend wasn't sexy._

"Yeah," she practically hummed, "I just think we should—slow our roll a bit."

Sam looked slightly sheepish at that. "We were getting pretty intense, huh?"

"A little," Mercedes replied. She was embarrassed to admit that while she was horny as hell at the moment—the fact that her body was responding so intensely scared the shit out of her. She nibbled on her bottom lip a bit and looked down—unable to meet Sam's eyes.

"Hey," he said immediately, "Don't clam up, Nala. Talk to me."

He already knew about her significant lack of experience, but it was still humiliating to talk about this aloud. She promised herself that she would be mature about this though, and mature people who were ready for relationships talked about this kind of thing.

"I just wasn't expecting it to be so _extreme_," Mercedes said with a sigh. And Sam nodded. "I'm so not used to any of this stuff and it kind of took me by surprise how good it feels." She was blushing by this point and Sam was giving her a grin.

He leaned his forehead against hers and said, "And it scared the shit out of you, didn't it?"

"Yes," she responded and Sam kissed her forehead as he pulled her into his chest. Mercedes laid her head down onto his left shoulder and relaxed into his hold.

"That's normal," he told her, "And I'm glad you told me. We'll go slow on everything and if you ever want to stop, just tell me, okay?"

Mercedes nodded into the side of his neck. "Thanks Blondie," she whispered and she felt him kiss the top of her head. She smiled.

"Why were you out here by yourself anyway?" she asked after a few moments of silence. Sam gently turned her around until her back was to his chest.

"Look at the view," he said quietly and Mercedes glanced out. Her breath was taken away. It was beyond beautiful—almost as amazing as the view they'd had on their tour. New York looked like a wonderland with all of its twinkling lights and skyscrapers. "It reminded me that just because we lost the competition doesn't mean that we lost completely."

Sam wrapped his arms around her from behind and Mercedes leaned her head against his when he placed his buried his face in her shoulder. "We would never see anything like this in Lima and to know that we've come so far in the past year—it just showed me that we _won_. I got the experience of a lifetime. I finally stopped being an idiot and now I'm in a relationship with a spectacular woman," Sam told her and Mercedes couldn't help but turn her head an place a kiss on the side of his head. She felt him grin into her shoulder before she turned back to look out at the view again.

Her head fell against his once more. "I'm disappointed that we didn't win, but I'm happy Mercedes," he confessed, "I'm _really happy_."

Those words lifted her heart. She was so happy for him. He deserved to be happy and she was glad that she was a part of making him that way. Sam and Mercedes stood there for a long time—talking quietly about what they were going to do when they got back to Lima. They only split apart when Sam's watch said ten minutes after nine and they expected the others to start showing up.

Sam walked Mercedes to the door and helped her put on her shoes. They shared a soft kiss goodbye before he opened the door and watched her walk down the hall. He only closed it when she'd vanished into her room after shooting him a bright smile and a cute wave.

* * *

><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until next time! :D<strong>


	26. Never Been Called That

**DISCLAIMER: On first chapter.**

**Whew! This took forever! Next chapter will have the end of the NY episode and the Glee club will be back at McKinley! I'm so excited! Happy reading!**

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><p><strong>May 14, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**Lima Allen County Airport**

**Lima, Ohio**

**9:22AM**

Sam wouldn't say it out loud but he was happy that they were back in Lima. It probably had something to do with the fact that he hated airplanes and he hadn't been able to sit next to Mercedes on this flight. He was also affected by the stony silence between the members of the group. Their little section of the plane had been drop-dead silent the _whole_ flight.

Santana kept shooting daggers at Rachel with her eyeballs. Rachel looked like she was going to burst into tears every three seconds. Finn had been trying to make himself invisible in his seat next to Mercedes.

It was _not_ a fun experience.

Sam slowly walked down the aisle—a few people in front of Mercedes—as the plane emptied. He briefly paused to ask about his gate checked bag, and the flight attendant told him to wait in the stretch of hallway past the gate door.

When he exited the plane and stepped to the side of the procession of people walking out—Sam looked at the worker in the orange vest standing there.

"Will my bag be out soon?" he asked politely, but he wanted to get the hell out of there.

The airport worker gave him an apologetic look. "It'll be a few minutes, sir. They're having a bit of trouble with the belts for baggage claim. So they're waiting on opening the luggage hatch until they get that sorted out. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

Sam let out a sigh and shook his head. "Not your fault, but thanks for letting me know."

He dropped his backpack onto the ground at his feet and slumped against the wall—might as well get comfortable during the wait.

It was only when he scrubbed a hand across his face that he noticed Mercedes standing there.

"Cede?" he inquired, "What are you still doing here?"

She stepped closer to him—dodging the last couple of stragglers exiting the plane.

"I saw that you weren't with us before I walked out of the gate doors," she admitted. Sam smiled at her as she moved closer—standing less than a foot away. "Is everything okay? Where's your bag?"

Her concern was endearing. Or maybe he was just a sap whenever it came to her. He didn't really care either way. "My bag is still in the luggage hatch," Sam told her, "They're having some trouble with baggage claim stuff so they're holding off unloading anything until they get the situation sorted out."

Sam glanced around him. There were at least eight other people there, but they looked significantly more annoyed with the delay than Sam did. One woman was harassing the poor airport worker—he was trying his best to calm her down, but it was clear that the guy had no idea what to really say.

It pissed him off to see adults being so inconsiderate and selfish. He had always been taught to be polite, because you never knew what your kindness could do for a person. Other than the bitchy middle-aged woman tearing into the airport worker, there were some random passengers and their children—he didn't see any other glee club members.

"Is everyone else gone?" he asked.

Mercedes raised an eyebrow at him. "Did you really think any of them would stick around?" she replied, "I felt like I was in the middle of the cold war during that whole plane ride. Every time something made a noise—I ducked."

Sam laughed at that. "What? Did you expect biological warfare to be unleashed?"

"No!" Mercedes groused and Sam laughed again. "But Satan looked incredibly pissed—I didn't trust her not to throw anything."

"The only things that she could've thrown were food," Sam replied, "You were afraid of a twinkie and a bag of chips?"

Sam clearly remembered the Latina ordering—Santana had sounded angry and the flight attendant had been clearly intimidated.

Mercedes hit him on the arm for that joke—causing him to laugh.

"It's not funny!" she protested. "Why don't you try sitting next to Finn when he's trying to hide in his seat, but can't because he's too tall. He kept begging me to protect him."

Sam had to bite the inside of his cheeks to stop from laughing. Mercedes looked like she wanted to smack him again.

"I'm sorry for your plight, Cede," Sam told her. "Protecting a giant and hiding from junk-food-weaponry must have been _terrifying_."

Mercedes used both hands to smack him this time. Sam scooted away from her—laughing.

"_Abuse!" _he called.

"Damn straight," Mercedes said as she hit him again. Sam chuckled, before he caught her hands with his. Mercedes wasn't giving up that easily though. She twisted and fidgeted in his grip and the two of them ended up play fighting right there against the wall. Sam eventually trapped her against his chest and tickled her sides.

Mercedes burst out laughing immediately and squirmed around in his embrace—trying her best to get away from his wiggling fingers.

"You give?" he asked in her ear.

"No!" she cried, "_Sam Evans_, you better stop!" She was giggling the whole time though and Sam couldn't help grinning. She let out a snort when he hit a particularly sensitive spot and Sam laughed.

Mercedes blushed furiously.

"You give?" he asked again.

"_Fine_, yes," she choked out between laughs. Despite wanting to keep her squirming body close, Sam released her. She leapt away from him like her pants were on fire.

Sam chuckled as she gasped to catch her breath.

"I'm going to get you back for this, Blondie," she told him with a shake of her fist in his direction. Sam leaned his shoulder against the wall and smirked in her direction.

"I'm looking forward to it," he replied.

When Mercedes calmed down again, she moved closer warily. And when Sam stretched a hand out to her—she froze and eyed him suspiciously.

"You're not going to tickle me again, are you?" she asked.

Sam smiled and said, "No, I'm not."

She still looked a bit hesitant. "You promise?"

Sam laughed. "I promise I won't tickle you."

She waited a couple more seconds, but she eventually grasped his offered hand. Sam entwined their fingers and tugged her just a little bit closer. Mercedes brushed a hand through his hair—it had apparently gotten mussed during their play fight. He closed his eyes, just enjoying the feeling of her warm fingers combing through his hair. He missed her hand when it disappeared after she was done.

"Do you want me to wait with you?" she asked quietly.

Sam glanced at his watch—noticing that it was almost 9:30 in the morning. He might be here for awhile and he didn't want to keep her from her family. "As much as I'd like that—I know your mother is probably wondering where you are."

"And your family isn't?" she teased.

"Good point, but I think I'll be alright," he replied, "It shouldn't take too much longer, I hope."

Mercedes gave him a soft smile. "Okay," she responded, "I guess I'll head out." Sam squeezed her fingers within his.

"Text me when you get home?" Sam asked and Mercedes smiled up at him. Her brown eyes were dancing under the fluorescent lighting and Sam fell for her all over again. She was wearing this sleeveless denim blue dress that fell a little above her knees and a pair of tan wedge heels. Her hair was down in soft waves and she had a sparkly head band in her hair.

"Sure thing," she replied, before she stood on tiptoe and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Sam thought this was his favorite kiss ever. It was the first one that Mercedes had ever initiated. And he couldn't help but beam at her when she pulled away a couple of seconds later.

He also couldn't resist pulling her to him and kissing her again for a longer, but just as tender moment. She grinned up at him shyly when he pulled away.

"Bye Blondie," she told him.

"See you later, Nala," he whispered as he squeezed her fingers before letting her go. Sam watched her walk away from him with a smile on his face so big that it made his cheeks hurt. He didn't notice that everyone else in the hallway had been watching him and Mercedes interact with amused smiles on their faces.

Sam was trapped in his thoughts until about ten minutes later—when their bags were finally brought to the gate. He grabbed his duffel bag and hauled ass out of the gate door.

He couldn't wait to see his family.

As soon as Sam speed walked from the escalator drop off and around the corner into the main lobby—he heard a loud cry of "_SAMMY!"_ He would recognize Stacey's voice anywhere.

The smile that stretched across his face was huge. And he turned around just in time to see a streak of blonde fly towards him. Sam dropped the duffel bag that he'd waited almost twenty minutes for on the ground—before he knelt down and opened his arms for Stacey to crash into.

She collided with his chest with enough force to potentially knock him over, but Sam balanced and then stood up—spinning him and the small child in a circle. She was wrapped around him like a tentacle—her legs around his waist and her arms fastened around his neck.

He held her close and kissed the side of her head. "Hey sunshine," he greeted. The beaming smile she shot him warmed his heart. _Yeah, he had definitely missed them._

His attention was drawn away from Stacey when Stevie buried his face in his shirt and threw both of his arms around Sam's waist.

"Superman," he laughed as he dropped his free hand atop Stevie's fine blond locks. He couldn't contain his smile if he'd tried. "How are you guys?" he asked as he ran his fingers through his little brother's hair before wrapping an arm around the kid's shoulders and hugging him to his side.

"I missed you," Stacey told him before she placed her head on his shoulder. "Lynn taught me how to knit! I have a surprise for you when we get home."

Sam grinned at her. "Can't wait, kiddo," he said brightly. The bright expression in his sister's eyes cheered him even further.

"I have to show you the game Lynn bought me last week!" Stevie said—his blue eyes staring up at Sam. Even though he didn't say it—Sam could see how much Stevie had missed him in those eyes of his. His little brother was something else, but he could understand not wanting to appear weak in front of anyone else. Stevie was so much like him that it was a bit disconcerting at times.

He stood there with both of his siblings physically attached to him in some way for almost five minutes—just listening to the two of them chatter. It was only when his dad dropped a hand on his shoulder that Sam paid attention to anything else.

"Hey muffin head," Jeff said, "It's good to see you alive and well." And Sam knew that his father meant it—exactly the way he'd said it. He instantly recognized the careful eye that ran over him to make sure there were no unusual markings or bruises on him. His dad did the same thing every time Sam left for longer than a day.

That protective gene must run in the family, because Sam did the same for Stevie and Stacey.

Stacey reluctantly dropped from his hip and slid to the floor. Stevie let go of Sam's waist and stepped away. And Sam was instantly pulled into a hug by his dad. He huffed out a laugh, but he embraced his father back.

Sam pretended like he didn't notice the watery eyes that peered back at him when his dad finally let go. "You alright, kid?" Jeff asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah dad; I'm alright."

That seemed to be enough for his father. Sam glanced around—expecting to see Lynn, but he was surprised to find that she wasn't there.

"Where's Lynn?" he questioned and Jeff smiled.

"At home," his dad replied, "Crazy woman insisted on staying home and making breakfast. She said that 'He'll be hungry when he gets home, Jeffrey. And I know _you_—you'll act like a starving whale if you're not fed within two hours of waking up in the morning.'" Jeff used a ridiculously high falsetto to imitate Lynn—it sounded nothing like her which made it even more amusing.

Sam couldn't help but laugh, because despite the disgruntled expression on his dad's face—they both knew it was true. Nothing got between Jeff Evans and his food. Sam could see the fond amusement sparkling in his dad's eyes. Lynn had them all pegged. And the bickering she and his dad could do every morning was beyond hilarious.

Mercedes got a kick out of listening to his stories about them when he recounted the events at school.

"Well, I am hungry," Sam told him and Jeff grinned as he clapped him on the shoulder.

"Then let's get home," Jeff responded as Sam hefted his duffle bag off the ground. Jeff extended his hands to the twins—and the two immediately grabbed one each. Sam followed as they began making their way out of the airport. His phone vibrated just as they walked through the automatic sliding doors.

He dug it out of the pocket of his jeans and saw that it was a text from Mercedes. He would never live it down if anyone saw what he had her under in his phone. _Mercy-Mine_ was a nickname that he only called her in his head—and even then rarely. He had debated between Nala and Mercy-Mine, but eventually Mercy-Mine had won in the end.

Nala was a name only he called her and he wanted no one else to know it but them. It was theirs through and through. And he wanted it to stay that way.

Sam grinned at the picture of them he had made his phone background.

It was from their first date—at High Line Park—Mercedes was standing behind him; her head peering around his right shoulder and she was smiling brightly up at him and he was giving her this amused grin back in return. He loved that picture. It was just so random and silly—and so them.

He felt like it captured the essence of their relationship. Neither of them had to be more than they were. There was no pressure. It was just them. He shook off the sappiness of the memories and opened the text message.

It read,

**Sorry we missed you! We had to hustle if we wanted to get to church on time. Mom and Dad say hi though. I'll call you later, Blondie. 3.**

Sam smiled and waited until he'd tossed his duffel into the back of his truck to reply.

**Don't worry about it, beautiful! Have a good Sunday. :) **

He had just buckled in the passenger seat of the truck when his phone vibrated again. His dad started the truck and pulled out of the parking space as Sam read her response.

**Beautiful? I could get used to being called that, Mr. Evans.**

He grinned at that. He would make sure that she would get used to being called beautiful. No one deserved it more than she did. He was baffled by how no one had noticed how amazing she was before now. Before he could censor himself, Sam typed out a quick reply.

**I call it like I see it, Ms. Jones. ;)**

He waited eagerly for her response and he wasn't disappointed when less than a minute later; his phone vibrated in his hand.

**Boy, you're too much, you know that?**

Sam could picture her cheeks warming and her rolling her eyes in fond exasperation. He briefly wondered how she was getting away with this in the middle of church before Sam texted her back.

**Of course! I have to be something special if you're dating me.**

When he got her response—he couldn't help but chuckle. She was so modest, but at least she wasn't shutting him down.

**I swear, you're going to make me grow a complex.**

Sam debated what he should send her, and he finally decided on a flirtatious joke. He liked flirting with Mercedes—she didn't respond the way most girls did. She actually understood most of his innuendos and comparisons. He told her,

**You shouldn't swear in church. That's against the rules.**

The reply was teasing and Sam almost crowed in amusement. He never did this kind of thing with any of his past girlfriends. Mercedes said,

**Blondie, I don't think I'm going to get smote for saying, "I swear."**

Sam was opening a new message to reply before he even finished laughing. He had sent it without considering whether or not Mercedes would understand the reference or not.

**You never know. Dean Winchester is positive that all angels are dicks.**

Her response was immediate and Sam should've known better than to doubt Mercedes' knowledge of all things science fiction. They had very similar tastes—but very different personalities. It made him like her even more. Sam hadn't even thought that was possible.

Her text read,

**Dean Winchester is positive that most supernatural beings are dicks. Your argument is invalid.**

Sam was smiling so hard that he was developing a cheek cramp. The pride he felt at the moment was practically bursting out of his chest as he texted her back.

**Haha. You are totally a sci-fi nerd! My girlfriend is better than any other girlfriend.**

Mercedes' two word response had him chuckling again.

**Damn straight.**

Sam wasn't oblivious to the curious look his father was giving him out of the corner of his eye, but he was far too invested in replying to Mercedes to really care.

**Now, you're definitely going to get smote. You cursed in church.**

Mercedes replied and he could almost envision her teasing smirk as he read her reply.

**Text-cursing doesn't count.**

Sam's lips quirked in sarcastic amusement as he typed out a response and then sent it to her.

**I'm not trusting that one. I might have to salt your ass whenever I see you again.**

It took her a few seconds to reply, but she did and there was no way Sam could stop the laugh that bubbled out of him.

**Do that and I'll introduce you to my iron fist.**

He sent her a quick text in reply—still fighting to control his amusement. Jeff was looking askance in his direction and Sam avoided his gaze at all cost.

**LOL. My dad has to think I'm crazy. You have me grinning like an idiot over here.**

It took a minute or two for Mercedes to respond this time, but what she had to say made him laugh again.

**Haha. I'm texting you from behind my bible. I definitely look like I'm heavily in the spirit.**

He responded jokingly. This was way too fun.

**We're going to hell, aren't we?**

Mercedes' answer was just as funny as the one before it. God help him, but he liked this girl.

**Nope, just you. You lured me into temptation with your manly wiles.**

Sam replied quickly.

**What can I say? I've got game.**

When he read her text, Sam could picture her snickering behind her bible. It made the smile on his face widen even more—if that was possible.

**Hahahaha. More like no game.**

He texted her,

**I got you didn't I?**

It took Mercedes another minute to respond.

**Good point. Lol. I really need to go.**

Sam replied as fast as possible. He only considered how needy it sounded after he'd pressed send.

**You still gonna call me later?**

But Mercedes didn't seem to see it that way, because she responded within seconds.

**Definitely. :) Bye Sam.**

His last text to her was short, but he could wait to talk to her again. That phone call wouldn't come quickly enough.

**Bye Cede.**

Sam had never wanted to kiss her more than he did at that moment. He smiled softly as he put the phone down in his lap. The picture of him and Mercedes had his thoughts running rampant in his mind

"Interesting conversation, Sam?" his dad asked in amusement. Sam's gaze snapped to his father—a blush heating up his face. But despite his embarrassment—Sam couldn't stop grinning.

"_Very_ interesting conversation, dad," he replied before he shoved his phone into his pocket and leaned against the truck door. Jeff eyed him when they reached the stop light.

"Will your dear old man be enlightened as to who you're having very interesting conversations with?" Jeff asked—his voice mostly teasing, but there was quite a lot of curiosity too.

"I'll think about it," Sam replied. He was serious. He would think about it—he just didn't mention that he already knew that he wanted his dad to know, but he wanted to talk to Mercedes before he told anyone else about the change in their relationship.

Jeff laughed a bit. "Alright," he said, "Well whenever you want to come clean—you know where to find me."

Sam smiled to himself. "I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

><p><strong>May 14, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**10:01 AM**

Lynn had pretty much convinced herself that she was being an idiot in the short amount of time between Jeff and the kids leaving to go to the airport and now. As she used her spatula to flip the turkey bacon on its side, her thoughts were stuck on Jeffrey.

Specifically his warm hands with their callused fingers and how he had smelt of slight spice mixed with a soft, earthy scent that drove her crazy. Last night had been amazing. He was goofy, but intelligent and even though they shared a lot of common interests—they were so different.

Lynn blushed as she flipped over some more pieces of bacon. His hands on her waist and how they pretty much engulfed her small hands when he'd twirled her around—it had felt so magical, so unreal that Lynn thought she'd dreamed it at first.

But then she felt the ache in her feet from standing in heels for so long and the remains of her makeup smeared on her face—she had been so tired that she just kicked off her shoes, shucked off her dress and passed out the minute they'd returned home.

Jeffrey was amazing—attractive, genuine, smart, and kind, and was Lynn developing a crush on her friend? She hadn't had a crush in years. And Davis, _the bastard_, had been her first everything. First crush, first boyfriend, first date, first kiss—first time; he'd literally been her introduction and conclusion to the dating world.

She hadn't so much as kissed another man since her divorce and the idea of getting involved with such a wonderful man and screwing it up due to inexperience was humiliating and terrifying.

And what was she thinking anyway? _What if Jeff didn't even like her that way?_

Lynn was snapped out of her thoughts as the sizzling bacon popped loudly, and she pulled away with a sharp hiss of pain.

Lynn pulled the skillet off the heat and switched it off, before she hurried over to the sink and doused her hand in cold water. The sting made her wince, but she ignored it in favor of cursing her distraction in her head.

Her heart felt like it was in her toes. Jeff would never want to be with her—she was a klutz, and a mother of two children who hated her. How he could even possibly be attracted to her she didn't even know. She was too thin and she always looked tired. She'd cried on him more than once and she was a general mess.

Her heart carried the weight of her whole world—he could never love someone with that much baggage. The thought stung a lot more than she'd thought it would. In such a short time, Jeff had come in and changed her—without even trying.

Lynn considered how incredible it would be if they could get past all her baggage, but there was still the fact that he was married; he and his wife hated each other and were separated, but they were legally married and she would _never _be the other woman.

Lynn knew firsthand how painful that was. And even if he did get divorced, Lynn didn't know how to fall in love. She couldn't even say that she had been in love with Davis when they got married. He had just been safe—everything she had known and she thought that_ that_ was love.

Lynn pulled her hand out of the cold water and examined her fingers. There were only a couple of blisters developing from contact with the hot grease—it could've been much worse. She started plating the food, before she thought something that made her almost drop the bowl of fruit she'd chopped up and refrigerated last night.

Oh, sweet Jesus, what about sex? She hadn't had sex in what—_nine years_? Anything she did would be like returning to virginal status. She didn't even know if she and Davis had had_ good_ sex, anyway. She'd researched online what generally felt good, but Davis had never lasted too long—and Lynn didn't think she'd had an orgasm more than a few times during their whole marriage.

Her face felt hot. Maybe she hadn't been sexy enough? Did she even know how to be sexy? Was there like a guide book for sex that she could read?

Lynn started feeling tingly all over at the thought of Jeff—in all his attractive glory—being with her in _that_ way and how gentle he would be. But she shook those thoughts away as she finished putting food on all of the plates. Lynn managed to not think about it as she set the table and started cleaning up the kitchen.

Jeff was out of her league by light years. She and Jeff—they had no chance. And the crushing feeling that accompanied that realization made her heart break.

Her eyes were on the verge of watering when she heard the front door clang open. Lynn forcibly pulled herself together and placed the last washed dish into the dishwasher. She heard Stacey's sweet voice and Stevie's laughter. Jeff was saying something to the kids and Sam was laughing.

She washed her hands quickly—only wincing once when she rubbed a blister too hard. She had just dropped the towel to dry her hands when she was swept into a bear hug from behind.

Lynn let out a startled gasp and a laugh as Sam twirled her around in a circle. "Samuel Evans! You put me down right now young man."

Sam chuckled as he set her down on her feet and Lynn turned to smile at him. He looked ecstatic—his blond hair fell across his forehead and his green eyes sparkled.

"Hey darlin'," she greeted, but she was pulled into another hug by the tall teen. Lynn laughed again as he hugged her tight. When he let her go, Lynn opened her mouth to ask him about his trip, but she froze when Sam whipped his phone out of his pocket and showed her the picture he had as his background.

The joy that swept through her had her jaw dropping. The picture was the cutest thing she'd ever seen and she had never seen her niece look so exuberant. She beamed at Sam. "Wow, where was this taken?"

"It's from our first date," Sam replied quietly, "When we were at High Line Park."

"Why are you whispering?" Lynn asked—before her eyes widened. "Wait—you still haven't told your dad?"

Sam blushed, but he shook his head. Lynn gave him a look. "I'm talking to Mercedes tonight and I'll ask her before I tell anyone else."

"Fine," Lynn said with a pout, "but once it's out in the open—I get free rights to fangirl over your relationship."

Sam laughed at that, but Lynn was dead serious. He just didn't realize it yet. Their conversation ended when Jeff walked into the kitchen—sniffing loudly.

"Is that _burnt_—Lynn did you burn the bacon?" Jeff asked in disbelief. Lynn blushed, because she knew he was teasing. It was just embarrassing because thinking about him was the reason she had burnt the bacon—he just didn't need to know that.

"I can't be a star chef all the time you know," she retorted playfully and Jeff laughed. Sam grinned at them both, before he joined Stacey and Stevie at the table—where the twins were already going to town on their breakfast.

One thing was for sure—the Evans family loved their food.

"I don't expect you to be," Jeff replied honestly as he walked closer to her. His scent filled her olfactory senses and Lynn thought she was going to go a little crazy. She was torn from her thoughts by his exclamation of "What the hell, Lynn?"

She blinked at him. "What's wrong?"

Jeff's response was to grab her hand gently and lift it to his face. He eyed the blisters with discontent for a few moments. "How'd this happen? Did you run cold water over it?"

"Ah, I got distracted while I was cooking the bacon and some of the grease popped. And yeah, I ran cold water over it," she answered. Jeff was still holding her hand—but his thumb was gingerly tracing patterns over her knuckles.

The feeling was sending sparks of desire all over her body and she didn't quite know how to respond.

Her brain hadn't felt that rush of sexual interest in a long time and now it was like, "_What the fuck is this?"; _and subsequently freaking out in her head.

It was not helping her self-esteem for her attraction to her friend to skyrocket like this.

"Do they hurt?" he asked and Lynn numbly shook her head.

She had to bite the inside of her lip to stop herself from reacting when Jeff placed a soft kiss near one of her blisters. His lips felt soft and slightly chapped and Lynn had never wished that she could kiss him before, but now—she would give just about anything to have those lips on hers.

Jeff met her eyes—his own expression disconcerted—before he gingerly let her hand go. They went to eat breakfast—and all Lynn could think about was how good Jeff's ass looked in his jeans as she followed him into the dining area, but at least her hand didn't hurt anymore.

They ate and talked—the kids tripping over themselves to tell their stories to Sam. Jeff listened with an amused smile on his face and Lynn was stuck in a state of heart break and horniness. It was only when Stacey asked him about his competition that she was drawn out of her thoughts.

Sam seemed to deflate a little after the question and Lynn frowned. "We got placed twelfth."

"That's good though!" Lynn told him, "Weren't there over seventy-five show choirs participating?"

Sam nodded and replied, "Yeah, but you had to place in the top ten to carry onto the next round."

_Damn._ That must've sucked something fierce. To get so close and then have it ripped from you? Two more places and they would've been there. Lynn gave Sam a sad smile.

"Did they say why?" Jeff asked slowly. Stacey looked angry and sad.

"No," Sam responded, "but it probably had something to do with the fact that Finn decided to declare his love for Rachel by kissing her after their duet—_on the competition stage_."

Lynn's jaw dropped and she blurted, "They what?" That was so unprofessional that Lynn didn't even have words. The New Directions were lucky that they didn't get placed lower than they did because of that.

"Yeah," Sam said with a deep frown, "Everyone else was mad too. Santana almost clawed Rachel's eyeballs out."

Jeff choked out a laugh and Lynn couldn't keep the amusement off her face. "You're going to have to explain that one," she said with a grin and Sam laughed.

It took Sam about five minutes to tell the story—complete with impressions of each girl, but it took them all about twenty minutes to stop laughing over it. It just got better when Sam told them about the plane ride. Conversation continues around Sam's trip and all of the things he saw while in New York. It's obvious that he's carefully avoiding all mentions of anything that could incriminate him and Mercedes.

Lynn wanted to laugh, but she held her tongue. Sam was a great kid.

"Well," Jeff said as he wiped his mouth with his napkin, "We've got a whole day on our hands and after chores—we have no plans. Any suggestions?"

There was a moment of silence as Sam, Stacey and Stevie glanced at each other.

"Baseball?" Stevie offered and Sam beamed.

"I'm down with baseball," Sam told them. Lynn sank slightly in her chair as smiles crossed the Evans' faces. She was not a big baseball player—meaning she'd never played in her entire life. Running, that was her thing—hitting a ball speeding towards her face with a skinny pole was _not _okay.

She hoped they would conveniently forget that she was there, but no such luck. She knew the exact moment when Jeff's eyes locked onto her. "Lynn, you want to play?" he asked.

Feeling her face heat up slightly, Lynn avoided his eyes as she stacked her dishes. "No, I'm good. I'll get some laundry done, wash up the dishes, and clean the bathrooms—you guys can play without me."

Jeff's eyebrows rose on his forehead, but it was Sam who responded. "You're going to scrub a toilet instead of having fun and playing baseball outside with us?"

"We all have things to do," Lynn replied as she stood from her chair. Maybe if she made a quick escape—she wouldn't have to answer any more questions.

"But isn't it daddy's turn to clean the bathrooms?" Stacey asked, "I'm sure that's what it said on the chore chart."

Damn her perfectionist tendencies for making that chart. Jeffrey was smirking at her. She gave him the stink eye. He laughed.

"Kids, why don't you head up and get your chores done?" he said, "And change into some clothes you don't mind running around in."

Three different noises of acquiescence filled the room as the three kids rose and took their dirty dishes into the kitchen. Both Lynn and Jeff listened to the clang of dishes being put in the sink and the sound of chatter as the three of them headed towards the stairs. Lynn picked up her plate as Jeff stood from his seat.

"Why don't you want to play?" he questioned in amusement as he gathered his own dishes.

"I've never played before," Lynn admitted with a blush.

Jeff stared. "Are you serious?" he asked. Lynn gave him a look of fond exasperation before walking into the kitchen. He followed her.

"Yes, I'm serious," she told him as she placed her dishes in the sink. "There's something inherently wrong about letting someone launch a ball at my face and then trying to hit it with a skinny pole."

"First off, it's called a bat," Jeff replied as he placed his dishes in the sink too, "And you can always duck."

"Absolutely not," Lynn refused and she was ready to defend her decision until Jeff touched her arm.

"Give it a chance?" he asked, "Please?" The soft look in his green eyes had her melting before he'd even finished the sentence.

"Fine," she grumbled. Jeff grinned down at her—and feeling the blush heat up her neck, Lynn swatted him on the chest. "But you're teaching me how to play! And if I get a black eye, I demand a back rub."

Jeffrey laughed—his deep tenor felt like it set off an explosion of her ovaries. Why was this man so sexy? Lynn mentally bitch-slapped her attraction.

"Fine," he agreed, "I'll give you a back rub if you get injured."

Lynn nodded, before shooing him out of the kitchen. "Chores, old man," she told him with a teasing grin.

"I am not old!" he retorted, and Lynn gasped when he slapped her ass. Jeff left quickly before Lynn could retaliate. Her face felt like it was on fire.

It totally wasn't wrong if she considered that a back rub might be worth getting hit with a baseball. It wasn't her fault that Jeffrey was so damn attractive.

* * *

><p><strong>May 14, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**11:24 AM**

Sam wanted to laugh at the expression of terror and dismay that crossed Lynn's face when she was finally called up to bat after Stevie and Stacey had both gone. He could see the amusement on his dad's face as he coaxed her to the plate and showed her how to stand—the whole thing just made him laugh; especially when Lynn tried to hit the ball and failed miserably.

His dad tried to hide his laugh, but he wasn't very successful because Lynn tried to kick him. He scooted away from her with a mischievous grin. And Sam didn't want to say anything, but he was pretty sure that they were flirting—oh Christ, his dad and Lynn were _flirting_.

For a moment his mind drew a pretty big blank. What if his dad and Lynn had something going on—? Sam shook his head to clear those thoughts away. He had no idea how he felt about the whole situation and he didn't even know if there was really a situation to think about in the first place.

Sam shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind—telling himself that he'd think about it later.

He was drawn from his inner musings when Lynn finally hit the ball and Sam let his instincts take over as he bolted after the ball.

Sam heard Lynn saying, "I did it! Yes!" and his dad's laughter.

* * *

><p>Jeff watched Lynn do a little dance—her hips swinging, arms flailing and shimmying her shoulders—before he pointed out that she should probably run to first base before Sam got her out. With a gasp, she took off running—only she took the bat with her on her mad dash to the homemade base.<p>

Jeff almost died laughing. Lynn realized her mistake, but not until she stood on first base and was staring at the object in her hand with shock. Jeff watched as she looked up from the bat in her hand and over to him—the embarrassment on her face was enough to make him burst out laughing again.

He wasn't the only one. Stacey was giggling hysterically and Stevie's face was red as he looked anywhere else but at Lynn. Jeff knew that he wanted to laugh so badly. It was only when Sam trotted over to first base and his expression shifted to incredulity that Stevie splayed out on the ground and giggled.

Jeff could tell that Lynn was blushing as Sam said something to her that made her smack him playfully on the arm. His son's laughter was bright and cheerful—it helped that Lynn couldn't contain her own amusement.

Once their giggles settled, the five of them got into the game. Sam, Stacey, and Stevie ran circles around he and Lynn, but Lynn eventually started enjoying the game—once she accepted how horrible she was at it. She managed to hit the ball at least once every time she was up to bat, and one time she scored a homerun. Everybody cheered—even the kids who were playing against them.

Lynn's happy dance was a frequent occurrence during the game. And Jeff wanted to hit himself, but he thought it was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. Trash-talking was a must between him and his eldest son. The sound of a ball cracking against a bat, pounding footsteps, loud laughter, and cheers were the sounds that filled Lynn's rather large backyard for over an hour.

Marley, the attention whore that she is, joined them mid-game—and she chased everyone running throughout the whole game. Her happy barking made Stacey beam. In the end though, the kids won the game.

Sam was glowing by the time Jeff suggested grilling some hot dogs for lunch. Three cheers went up and Marley chimed in with her barking.

"Alright, go get cleaned up then," Jeff said with a grin, "Wash the hands, the face—"

"And put on some more sun block." Sam finished for him. "We know dad." Jeff flicked his son on the forehead as Sam walked by.

"Smart aleck," he told him fondly.

"Old man," Sam replied.

"Girly hair," Jeff retorted.

"What was that? The sound of your joints creaking?" Sam said. He wisely ducked and then picked up the pace when Jeff reached out to grab him. "Don't hurt yourself now, dad."

"Go get cleaned up, muffin-head," Jeff responded, "Before I take you to the carpet."

"Yeah, you could take me," Sam said over his shoulder, "But you can't get back up once you're down."

Jeff playfully shook his fist at his son, and Sam laughed before heading inside the house after Stevie and Stacey; their chatter still loud and happy. It warmed his heart to see them so joyful. Jeff was sure that there was nothing more incredible than seeing them happy.

He looked over when he felt Lynn's hand on his arm. "They're going to be okay, Jeffrey," she told him quietly—and the confidence in her voice wormed its way into that box of doubt that he'd buried deep in his heart.

It was a constant fear that he carried with him every day. That something was going to happen and it would be like pushing the reset button on all the progress they had made. So much had changed in the past couple of months and he worried for their emotional state.

"I know," he admitted—his voice more gruff than he'd been hoping for. "But I'm well aware that this whole thing is nowhere near over—and I just pray that we can make it through this. They've lost so much in so little time and it's hard to not worry about how they're coping; Sam especially. Everything he's known has been ripped to pieces in front of his face, and I feel like he's done an admirable job of making it through, but Lynn," Jeff had to pause for a moment.

He remembered the sight of his son's anguish and rage—it burned a whole through his heart and sometimes it made it difficult to fall asleep at night. "You didn't see his face—_his eyes_—after I told them about Elizabeth cheating." Jeff looked over at her and her hazel eyes were swimming with concern and compassion. "That's not something you recover from within days or even years—I'm well aware that there will be backlash, and I'm praying that when the time comes, I can do right by him."

"You're not alone, Jeffrey," Lynn stated as placed her forehead against his shoulder. "I won't let you go through this alone, and if you ever need someone to talk to—I'm here."

Jeff's heart thumped with gratitude. He could do nothing besides shift his body so Lynn's head fell onto his chest and he wrapped an arm around shoulders. She returned the embrace by moving her arms around his waist. Jeff placed a kiss on the top of her head and he felt her grip tighten in acknowledgement.

"You're with me?" Jeff asked; he didn't want to admit that he needed the reassurance.

Raising three kids, divorcing the woman he'd been married to for years, being homeless and jobless and so _fucking angry_—it was a lot to do by himself; and now that he had someone willing to stand at his side—he found himself slightly desperate to not have to do it on his own. He would if he had to, because he loved his kids, but God had introduced this woman into his life for a reason and he wasn't one to walk away from the answer to his prayers.

Lynn lifted her head from his chest. Green met hazel as Lynn freed one hand and lightly touched the side of his face. Freshly-shaven, his cheek was ultra sensitive to her touch—at least that's what he told himself.

Her hand was warm and soft and smooth; it felt like pure comfort and love and acceptance had bled into him with a graze of her fingers.

"I'm with you." They stared at each other for a long moment, before they pulled away at the same time. Jeff needed to get his grilling supplies.

"Time for the grill master to make his debut," Jeff said as he gathered the bag of baseball equipment from the ground. Lynn laughed.

"Yeah, but I'm going to make some vegetables to go along with it," Lynn replied. Jeff looked scandalized.

"You're _what_?" he questioned. "This is a barbeque—no healthy crap allowed."

"Then you're about to be disappointed, because all I have is whole wheat buns, and low fat hot dogs," Lynn said with a grin. Jeff groaned.

"That's it—you can't go grocery shopping alone anymore."

"Wha—_why not_?"

"You're trying to make my family health nuts—and that's not acceptable."

"Are you seriously bitching over some vegetables?"

"Low fat hot dogs, Lynn?" Jeff retorted, "What is that even?"

"Something you apparently need more of, Mr. Tubby."

"You did not just call me fat!"

Lynn only walked into the house, giggling.

"Lynn! _Lynn, I'm not fat!"_

His response was Lynn's loud laughter as she walked upstairs. He put the bag in the garage and then followed her upstairs—grumbling under his breath.

* * *

><p><strong>May 14, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**5:01 PM**

His Pandora turned on—Otis Redding was a recent obsession—and the music pouring lightly through his computer speakers, Sam dropped onto his bed with a relaxed sigh. His hair was still wet from his shower and it was nice to be in clothes fresh from the laundry after playing around all day—not that he was wearing more than his plaid pajama bottoms and boxer briefs.

Today had been a break from responsibility and his normal life—it was glorious. Breakfast, baseball, lunch, and board games with his family were a nice way to relax and reconnect. He felt more like himself than he had in awhile.

Sam stretched out across his bed and just let the music flow over him. He must have dozed off for a bit, because he was awakened by the sound of his cell phone ringing. Sam quickly rolled towards his oak nightstand beside his bed and grabbed his cell.

When he saw Mercy-Mine flashing across the screen, a smile nearly split his face. He answered on the second ring.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hey Blondie," Mercedes' voice from the other end was soft but just as wonderful as he remembered.

"Hi sweetheart," he replied—a blush staining his cheeks, but man did it feel good to call her that. He could practically feel Mercedes' blush through the phone. At least he wasn't the only one nervous about screwing this up.

They had talked on the phone before, of course, but that was as friends and their relationship was definitely no longer platonic. It was exciting and nerve-wracking, but that was the best part of dating someone new—someone that made you giddy by just existing. It had never been this strong before, but Sam should've expected it—it was Mercedes Jones after all.

"Uh, wow," Mercedes stammered, "Never been called that one before either."

Sam chuckled lightly. "I promise you'll get used to it, because I'm not gonna stop."

"I don't want you to," she replied, but she sounded just as happy as she was flustered.

"What are you up to?" he asked as he rolled over onto his back and rested his head on his pillows.

"Not much," she told him, "Oh! Well, my mom is making her peach cobbler for dinner tonight because my brothers have been pestering her for it. It was pretty funny. They all unleashed the puppy dog eyes on her."

"Your mother is a food goddess," Sam said with reverence—his tone making Mercedes laugh. "Her cookies were to die for—I can hardly imagine how her peach cobbler would taste."

"It's amazing—sweet, slightly spicy, and crunchy crust on the outside," Mercedes responded. Sam's mouth watered.

"I don't think I could handle it," he stated and Mercedes laughed again.

"We'll see if I can save you a piece," she told him.

"Um, I'm pretty sure that all the awards go to you for that. Did I say that you're the best girlfriend ever? Because you are."

He could picture her rolling her eyes in fond exasperation. "And Quinn is going to spend the night over here tonight," she said.

Sam blinked, but he remembered Mercedes telling him how important Quinn was to the Jones' family. He was happy that they were reconnecting, but it was slightly weird that his ex-girlfriend who cheated on him was practically sisters with his current girlfriend.

"That's great," he replied, "Did she go to church with you this morning?"

"No, she called earlier today and we decided to hang out tonight which turned into having a sleepover," Mercedes answered, "It should be fun, but it's been a while since Quinn and I spent girl time together."

"You're amazing," Sam told her, "I'm sure everything will work out fine."

"Thanks Sam," she replied.

"No problem, Nala," he responded.

"Now what did you do today?" she asked, "Besides you know—getting me to sin in church."

Sam laughed. "Well, Lynn made breakfast and then we all played baseball. My dad and I grilled hot dogs and Lynn made this amazing macaroni and cheese to go with it. We were forced to eat some vegetables, but it was still delicious."

Mercedes laughed softly, and Sam continued, "I kicked my dad's butt at monopoly and poker. And Stacey cleaned our clocks when we played Candyland. Lynn won when we played Last Word and Stevie dominated Chutes and Ladders."

"Stacey beat you at Candyland?" Mercedes crowed in amusement.

"That girl kept getting the best cards," Sam rebuffed, "I'm pretty sure she was cheating!"

Mercedes just laughed. "Gamer extraordinaire got spanked by a seven-year old," she choked out through giggles. "That should be on a sign somewhere."

Sam pouted, but his smile won over his put-out expression. He bit his lip. Best ask now.

"Hey Cede," Sam began, "I was wondering how you'd feel if I told my dad and Lynn about us dating?"

Mercedes fell silent for a moment and Sam's heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. _Shit_, he had gone and ruined everything—at least that's what he thought until Mercedes answered.

"I was going to ask you if I could tell Quinn," she said.

They were quiet for a moment before they both cracked up. Now that that was out of the way—the conversation steered towards more general topics; like Stacey's upcoming recital and final exam day. Mercedes told Sam all about church that morning, and Sam recounted stories about Lynn's abysmal baseball skills.

They talked for almost two hours. It was only when Mercedes was being called down for dinner that they had to hang up.

"Do you want to meet at the Lima Bean for coffee before school tomorrow?" Mercedes asked.

"I'd love to," he replied. He could practically see her smile. They were silent for a second. "I wish I could kiss you goodbye right now."

Mercedes' breath hitched slightly and Sam felt a slow grin spread across his face. "I wish I could kiss you right now too, Sammy."

_Nope_, his heart did not just do the dougie in his chest. His face was not bright red and he did not feel the tingle of arousal in his groin.

"I guess we'll have to make up for it tomorrow, huh?" he replied quietly—not wanting to break the heavy mood that had settled over them.

"I guess so," she responded—her voice sounded wrecked and Sam swallowed with difficulty. How the fuck was he going to survive this relationship if she could make him hard over the phone without even doing anything?

"Goodnight Mercy-Mine," he whispered, but Mercedes apparently heard him very clearly.

"Mercy-Mine?" she rasped, sounding slightly shocked. His blush spread from his cheeks and down to his shoulders. _Shit._

"Just another nickname I have for you," he told her. Mercedes laughed softly.

"Is it bad if I like it?" she asked.

"Not at all," he replied with a grin.

"What happened to Nala?" she questioned.

"That one will only be used when in your company," he replied immediately, "_That_—that's our secret. The moment I realized how stunning you were, but Mercy-Mine, I don't care who hears it. Not that I'm going to shout it or anything, but—"

"It's alright, Sam," she responded with light amusement coloring her tone. "I get it, but I really have to go."

"Night," he told her.

"Goodnight... _Txe'lan_," she whispered.

Sam made a shocked sound in the back of his throat, but Mercedes had hung up the phone before he could say anything. He knew that word. _It was Na'vi._

Sam was fluent in Na'vi and Mercedes said something in a fictional language that she hadn't given two fucks about before he told her about his love of Avatar.

If he hadn't been hard before—that certainly did it.

Mercedes spoke to him in Na'vi.

The private nickname she'd created for him was in _fucking Na'vi._

Quinn had thought his obsession dumb. Santana had mocked him for it. He'd gotten so much shit from people because of his love of the movie and the world within it, but Mercedes Jones—diva extraordinaire—learned something for him.

He had no words for what he felt.

His heart was doing the crip-walk in his chest. And the rest of his organs were doing the electric slide. He had never felt this awesome before. More than ever, Sam felt like he had been blessed by God when that diva stormed into his life with all the compassion and love of million worlds.

He knew what she called him now.

_Txe'lan_ and he knew very well what it meant.

He was her _Txe'lan_, which meant 'my heart' in Na'vi.

* * *

><p><strong>May 14, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**Jones Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**9:07 PM**

Quinn showing up at Mercedes' house again had brought the party to the Jones' Estate.

Mercedes' dad had been overjoyed to see her again, and the blonde had been practically dog piled by Jason, Derek, Kyler and Joshua. It was a family reunion of epic proportions. Dinner had been full of loud chatter, laughter, and tons of stories.

Quinn inhaled the peach cobbler like it was the last thing she'd ever eat. Mercedes barely managed to save some to give to Sam the next day. She literally had to fight her brothers for it. When Mercedes told her mom who it was for though, her mom stood up and laid that act-right on her brothers and like a badass took a whole chunk without having to protect herself from anything.

If she wasn't still soothing her wounds from being poked by Josh's fork—she would've been amazed and slightly jealous. _It was official—her mother was a BAMF._

Quinn had been no help the whole time—she had been laughing hysterically while chowing down on her dinner. Mercedes pouted at her soul-sister.

It was like old times. Quinn teasing and trash-talking alongside Mercedes—her divatude making its reappearance as she and Mercedes made a stand against her four older brothers. Mercedes' parents were bickering at the table, and the younger kids would throw in random comments that had them all cackling.

For a while, everything was as it should be. Quinn helped with dinner clean-up; still chatting with Mercedes' father about everything that came to mind. Seeing the indulgent look on her dad's face had Mercedes beaming.

It was nice to see Quinn practically glowing under all the love that was being thrown at her. What was even nicer—sitting on the basement floor in front of the gigantic television; wearing pajamas with their hair up in ridiculous ponytails and chowing down on Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream. Of course, Drop Dead Diva was playing on the screen and Mercedes didn't realize just how much she'd missed this.

"Oh for the love of—_Grayson!_ Get rid of that ho!" Quinn cursed at the screen—it made Mercedes giggle. "Jane is right there!"

The two of them groused and bitched throughout the whole episode. It was great; just what Mercedes needed. Only when the credits roll did she and Quinn stop laughing. Her blonde friend leaned her head against Mercedes' shoulder and let out a soft sigh.

"We have to start doing this again," she said. Mercedes smiled as she rested her head atop Quinn's. "I didn't realize how much I missed this—_us_—until now."

"I agree," Mercedes replied, "Life hasn't been the same without you."

And it was true. When Kurt transferred to Dalton at the beginning of the year—Mercedes had needed Quinn, and when her friend wasn't there; it felt like the initial loneliness eclipsed everything else. For a long time, Mercedes had been angry at Quinn for abandoning her.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to express how sorry I am about that," Quinn told her softly. The diva could hear the sincere regret in her voice. "I should've gone to you, but I was too stubborn and after everything happened with Finn and Sam—"Mercedes tried her best not to react to Sam's name, but she still tensed slightly. "I was too ashamed to ask you for help. I thought you would hate me."

"Quinn, I've never hated you," Mercedes admitted, "I was pissed, yeah, and there were quite a few times when I wanted to shake you and ask you what the hell you were doing, but I never hated you—I honestly don't think I could."

Quinn sat up straight and tucked her legs beneath her. "Sophomore year—you meant the world to me," the blonde whispered, "You took me in when no one else could even look me in the eye—much less wanted me around. I became a part of your family."

Mercedes stared at the side of Quinn's face—taken aback by the tears she saw. "Family is something I never understood. My mom, my dad, and I—we were strangers living in a pretty house together. Outside of the house, we were perfection. I was the straight A student, a cheerleader, blonde, religious and pretty. My mom was a house wife who carried herself with grace and elegance. My dad was a business man—full of confidence and wealth. But we knew nothing about each other."

Sniffling slightly, Quinn wiped the tears off her face—they were instantly replaced by others.

"And with my dad gone, I figured that things would change. I won't lie because for a while, they did. My mom and I actually talked, but then my diagnosis came and I guess she couldn't figure out what to do or say. We barely speak to each other anymore, but I _know _that she loves me. That's a huge improvement. She worries about me constantly, and she tries so hard to make it seem like everything is perfectly fine."

Mercedes' heart broke for her friend. She scooted closer to Quinn. The blonde turned her head to look at Mercedes. She had seen this type of pain in Quinn's eyes not too long ago, and it hurt her even more now than it did before. Quinn was so vulnerable and God, Mercedes wished she could make it better.

"But it's_ not_ Mercy," Quinn said—the flood of tears deepening and her voice cracking with emotion. "Nothing is fine. I'm not okay, and I don't need her to act like I'm not broken, because _I am_! I want her to acknowledge how much this hurts her—so I don't feel like I'm so alone—like I'm not torturing myself by believing that I'm unfixable."

Quinn was barely holding herself together, and Mercedes wasn't far behind her. Heart racing, tears gathering, and her stomach clenching—she wrapped her arms around her friend. It was all she could do.

"Delia has been more of a mother to me than my real mom has. She knows my favorite foods and songs. She talked to me—showing me that my problems were real and that things could change. She taught me about love—and how much loving people can hurt. Delia has always been honest, and I need my mom to do that for me. Why won't she, Mercy?"

"Have you told her all of this?" Mercedes asked gently and Quinn shook her head.

"I wouldn't know where to start," she answered.

"We'll figure it out, Quinn, I promise," Mercedes responded. Quinn nodded into Mercedes' shoulder and melted into the embrace. They were quiet for a few minutes—the silence comfortable.

"When I saw Finn kissing Rachel—I thought I would be jealous." Quinn admitted—the topic change threw Mercedes for a loop, but she wasn't going to stop her friend from talking.

"You weren't?" Mercedes asked—she was surprised. She had wondered how it would affect Quinn, but she hadn't wanted to say anything.

"Surprisingly," Quinn replied with a slight laugh, "_No."_ Quinn gingerly removed herself from Mercedes' hug and wiped her face clean of tears. "I waited for the rage to come, or the sadness, but all I felt was _disappointment_—and not because he kissed Rachel, but because he kissed Rachel on the stage and that could count against us."

Mercedes gaped. She hadn't expected that one at all. "Really?" she blurted, before snapping her mouth shut.

"Yeah," Quinn replied, "Honestly, I think I was fooling around with Finn because he was a way for me to try and love myself again. I don't think I was in love with him—I don't think I ever was."

That was a lot to take in at once. All the fighting and tears and drama between Finn, Rachel, and Quinn had been for nothing, but in a very distant and twisted way—Mercedes could understand her reasoning.

"What also surprised me was when I saw Sam," Quinn said slowly—and it caught Mercedes' attention. Please God, don't have Quinn falling for Sam again. "And how affectionate he was with _you_ after our performance."

Mercedes' heart was in her throat. She knew Quinn well enough to know when she was fishing for information. What should she say? _What could she say?_

"What do you mean?" Mercedes asked nonchalantly. Quinn gave her a look.

"I mean that I dated Sam for three months and I know what he's like towards a girl he has feelings for," Quinn said bluntly. Mercedes couldn't quite prevent the shock from crossing her face and Quinn didn't look like she wanted her to. "I can also tell that you returned those feelings. You don't let just _anyone_ brush your hair behind your ear."

The silence between them was thick. Mercedes stared at Quinn and Quinn stared at Mercedes.

"We've been dating since last Thursday," Mercedes finally told her and a smile tugged at the corners of Quinn's lips.

"Unofficially how long have you been together?"

"Since prom," Mercedes admitted. She was surprised by the squeal that Quinn let out. "Are you—_happy_ about this?"

"Of course!" Quinn replied, "Just because my love life is shattered on the floor and filled with more holes than swiss cheese—doesn't mean I don't want my sister to be happy."

"But what about liking Sam?"

"Cede, we've already gone over this," Quinn sighed in exasperation, "Yes, it's weird that you're dating my ex boyfriend, but we both know that I only dated him so I could make myself feel better. And, I will admit that I was fond of him—he was adorable, but he deserved so much better than me. _And he got it_."

Hearing those words from Quinn had her tearing up.

In some way, Mercedes had constantly felt inferior to Quinn—her beauty, her popularity. She had never completely felt like she could compete against someone like her. And to have Quinn say that she—Mercedes Jones—was _better_ than her; it did things to her heart.

"Thank you Quinn," Mercedes replied.

"No problem," the blonde said with a smile. "Now—_spill!_ I want to hear about everything."

"Wha—_Quinn!"_ Mercedes sputtered as embarrassment spread across her face.

"He better have taken my soul-sister on an epic first date," Quinn sassed—she was wearing Mercedes' patented hell-to-the-no face. It made her laugh. "If he didn't we're going to have some problems. And _Breadstix_ does not count."

"Quinn!" she said in amusement, "You really want to hear all the sordid details?"

"There are _sordid _details?" Quinn squeaked. "Now you have to talk. I want to know about the first kiss, first hug, everything. He has kissed you, right?"

Mercedes blushed furiously at the word kiss. "Well, yes, but—I" Quinn cut her off.

"Sam's a really good kisser, and he better have turned up the heat for my girl," Quinn said, causing Mercedes' face to heat up even more. "Please? Pretty, _please_ girlie?"

Mercedes was torn between embarrassment and fond amusement as she stared at Quinn's ridiculous pout. She gave in with a sigh. And she would never admit it, but it was awesome to be able to squeal over everything with someone else.

Mercedes told Quinn about _everything_. Her gasps, giggles, and comments made the stories even more hilarious. Their girl talk lasted long into the night. They both passed out on the couch around one in the morning.

* * *

><p><strong>May 14, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**10:12 PM**

"Hey dad," Sam said as he poked his head into the office area where Jeff and Lynn had been discussing something. They both looked up at him. Lynn smiled and he smiled back. "I was just coming to tell you I was heading up to bed."

"Oh," his dad replied, before he glanced at his watch. "Um, would you mind if we talked for a bit before you head up?"

Sam blinked. He wondered what his dad wanted to talk about, but he nodded anyway. His eyebrows rose when Lynn and his father shared a telling look. She sighed slightly.

"I'm going to go make some tea and head up to bed. We can work on the rest of this in the morning," she told them both with a grin. Lynn waited until his dad nodded at her, before padding from the room with a soft goodnight after giving both of them a hug.

His dad didn't speak until after Lynn had left the room, and the conversation they had threatened Sam's happiness. While he'd been gone, his father had apparently established a game plan for tracking down his mom. His father told him all about filing for divorce and what he had to do to make it happen.

His emotions by the end were all over the place. Was he happy that his mom—Elizabeth was going to be out of the picture? Was that something he should be happy about?

He was furious with her and he pretty much never wanted to see her face again, but she was still _his mom_. She had raised him and loved him and somewhere deep down he still loved her, but he didn't know if he was ready for this.

And Stevie and Stacey—god, how would they react? The whole situation was strenuous. He could feel his dad's concerned gaze watching him as he tried to process all the information. Sam couldn't wrap his mind around it completely.

He just wanted to go to bed.

"I appreciate you telling me, dad," Sam said finally, "but I really don't know how I feel about it all. Can we talk more some other day?"

His dad looked relieved and worried. "Of course, kiddo. I just wanted to keep you in the loop. We're in this together."

Sam didn't think he could've loved his dad more if he tried. "Thanks dad."

"Why don't you head up to bed? We've got a long few weeks ahead of us. Lynn meant to tell you this earlier, but the restaurant—with some hard work and elbow grease should be ready for opening in the next five or six weeks."

Sam smiled. "That's great!" he said honestly as he stood up. "But night dad."

"Goodnight Sam," his dad responded. Sam turned around and had almost walked out of the room, before he remembered that there was one more thing he had to do.

"I also meant to tell you," Sam said as he glanced at his father, "that Mercedes and I are dating now."

He would be lying if he said that he wasn't nervous about his dad's response. Which is why he was relieved to see the huge smile that crossed his dad's face.

"That's _fantastic_, son!" he said, "I thought it was her you were texting earlier, but I didn't want to put my foot in my mouth."

Sam laughed. "Good call."

"She's a great girl, Sammy."

"I know dad," he replied, "I know."

* * *

><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until next time. :D And just for fun, in your reviews could you tell me where you see JLynn heading? Thanks!<strong>


	27. Soothed Hurts

Disclaimer: On first chapter.

ENJOY.

* * *

><p><strong>May 15, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**Lima Bean Café **

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:27AM**

Sam had just pulled into a parking space when he spotted Mercedes climbing out of her BMW. She wore a pair of dark skinny jeans and a sunflower yellow shirt with a halter top. The top of it looked structured with a sweetheart neckline and a thin strip of brown silk formed an empire waist. The rest of it was layered and blowy and it fluttered softly in the breeze.

Sam liked that she wasn't wearing a cardigan today because he could see her shoulders and soft skin. She had on a pair of dark brown ankle boots and her hair tumbled over her shoulders in some pretty curls. Sam thought his lady looked _spectacular_. It made him slightly self-conscious about his v-neck white t-shirt, jeans, and green chucks.

He even put on cologne today—something that earned him a smirk from his father at the breakfast table. Why Sam was suddenly worried about how he looked in front of Mercedes was a mystery—she had seen him in various states of disarray before and she hadn't cared; Lynn assured him that it was the whole new relationship thing.

Without wasting any more time, Sam turned off the ignition of his truck and stepped out after opening the door. He tucked his wallet into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, before closing the truck door. He had just locked his doors when he felt a touch on his arm.

Sam glanced over and smiled when he saw Mercedes standing next to him. She looked even prettier up close. Her eyelids were dusted with this gold shimmery stuff and for some reason her brown eyes stood out even more than normal. Her lips were glossed in this soft pink that drove Sam crazy—all he wanted to do was _taste_ it.

"Hey beautiful," he said softly before he leaned over and placed a kiss on her mouth. She tensed a little, but then he felt her smile slightly as she kissed him back.

"Hi Sam," she greeted as soon as he pulled away. She stepped away from him and he frowned. He caught on though when she sent a meaningful look towards the windows of the coffee shop.

He nodded in her direction. Sam shifted to toss his keys into his backpack and when he turned around—he caught Mercedes staring. A blush lit up his face, but he sent her a smug grin. Mercedes gave him an embarrassed smile, but she shrugged at him. "I have a thing for guys in white t-shirts and jeans—especially if he's blond and calls himself my boyfriend."

After that sassy comment, she turned on her heel and walked towards the coffee shop. Sam's face was red, but his grin was smug and appreciative.

He followed after her for a moment—shamelessly admiring the view—but caught up to her quickly enough.

"Are you ready for the last week of junior year at McKinley?" he asked and Mercedes laughed.

"I'm ready for it to be the last week," she said as Sam opened the door to the coffee shop, "but I'm not ready for the exams that are coming up on final exam day. I haven't studied half as much as I should have the past couple of weeks because of a _certain_ someone."

Sam couldn't help but smirk at her as she breezed past him with a pointed look. He let the door swing closed behind him as he followed her in.

"It's not my fault that I'm so attractive," he teased.

"Yeah, it's not my fault that someone decided to smack my ass with yellow paint and then lay one on me either."

"You _liked_ it—"

"Oh, look who's here!" The sound of Kurt's voice interrupted their flirting abruptly. Sam and Mercedes glanced over at the same time—quickly enough to see Blaine turn around in his chair to look at them. Sam inconspicuously took a step away from Mercedes.

"Hey guys, what are you doing here?" Blaine asked; his voice reflecting his cheerfulness. Sam stared a bit—Kurt's cheeks were red and Blaine looked like he'd been slapped by the sappy romance monster.

They both seemed utterly blissed out and his mind totally went to inappropriate places before he made himself remember that they were in a café and couldn't have possibly done some of those things.

Mercedes seemed to be frozen in a stupor. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, before he made this strange hand movement that had no purpose. It looked even weirder once he realized how pointless the gesture was and aborted it halfway through.

"Oh, just getting a coffee," Sam said weakly—he was _horrible_ at lying.

The judging look Mercedes shot him told him just how unconvincing he'd been. He gave her the judgment eyeball back—it wasn't like she'd said anything either.

"We ran into each other in the parking lot," Mercedes blurted—her voice way calmer than Sam's had been, but she still sounded off. Sam was positive that this wasn't going to end well for them or their secret relationship. If it wouldn't be a dead giveaway, Sam would've facepalmed.

_How did they expect to keep this on the down low if they both sucked at lying? _Sam was distracted from his thoughts by Blaine speaking up.

"We're on our way to pick up some sheet music for my Six Flags audition tomorrow," he told them—and he sounded excited, but nervous.

"Whereas I'm spending my summer composing my musical Pip Pip Hooray, a Broadway musical about Pippa Middleton," Kurt said with a bright smile in their direction. Sam tried to match that name to anything he knew, but it was not working.

Who would name their child _Pippa_ or whatever?

"I-uh," Sam stuttered trying to come up with something that sounded potentially intelligent, but he decided to just tell the truth especially after he spotted the amusement on Mercedes' face, "I have no idea who that is, but it sounds totally awesome."

Mercedes laughed, jokingly nudging him in the side. He nudged her back quickly—a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he glanced down at her. She let out another soft laugh before saying, "We'll see you in class."

Kurt waved as Mercedes turned away and Sam gave him a nod in return before following her—Blaine's chatter growing faint as they walked towards the counter. Once in line, Mercedes peeked over Sam's shoulder, worry creasing her brow.

"You think they know?" she whispered as she eyed Kurt and Blaine.

Sam gave her a look that was both amused and confident. He glanced at Kurt and Blaine—the two were stuck inside their own little bubble of romance—before he brought his gaze back to Mercedes.

"I don't think anybody knows," he told her honestly. Facing forward, he felt her capture his hand and entwine their fingers. "At least nobody besides the people we've told."

"You're right," she responded. There were three people in front of them in line.

"How did Quinn take it?" Sam asked as they stepped forward. He looked over at her and blinked at the bright smile on her face.

"She had suspected since Nationals," Mercedes replied, "Your little hug on stage was enough to make her curious. And your cheesy hair brushing behind the ear move made her suspicious."

Mercedes was totally sassing him and making fun of him at the same time.

"That move was _not_ cheesy," he protested with a squeeze of her fingers. "That was _suave_."

Mercedes shot him a sarcastic quirk of the lips. And Sam stuck his tongue out in her direction.

"You totally fell for it!" he said, "You wanted to kiss all up on _this_."

Mercedes laughed. "Boy, don't even," she said, "I've got more self-control than that."

Sam hummed mockingly under his breath and Mercedes elbowed him in the side. "_Hey!_ No abuse. And don't even think I won't get you back for your little snicker fest when we were talking to Kurt."

Mercedes gave him an innocent look as they stepped forward. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You were totally making fun of me for not knowing who Peppa Middle-whatever was," Sam answered. Mercedes cracked up.

"_Peppa_, Sam? Really?"

"Isn't that her name?" he asked confused.

"No, it's Pippa," Mercedes told him, "Didn't you watch the Royal Wedding?"

"Um, no," Sam replied, "I may like some girly TV shows, but I'm not about to waste precious time watching someone else's wedding."

"You are such a boy," Mercedes teased and Sam wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"You like it," he said causing Mercedes to laugh again as they stepped up to the front of the line.

He listened to Mercedes order a French Vanilla/Mocha latte with whipped cream and cinnamon. He ordered the same because it sounded delicious. While they were waiting in line for their order, after Sam had forcibly paid for both their drinks, Sam stepped close to Mercedes and turned towards her slightly.

She smiled at him and he smiled back. "Hey, can you come over after school today?" he asked softly.

Mercedes blinked, but she nodded. "I won't be able to come over until around dinner because Tina, Mike, and Artie and I are going to the cookie shop to do homework together. You're free to come with if you'd like."

Sam was pleased with the invitation, but he had already promised to start working with Lynn today on his dyslexia. He told Mercedes as much. "So after dinner then?" he questioned for clarification.

"Yeah," she responded, "Is there any particular reason?"

Sam wanted to talk to her about the divorce. He wanted an outside opinion and he trusted Mercedes to be straight with him. She had always been a good listener and given him good advice before. And she was his girlfriend; he wanted to share these things with her.

"I kinda just want to spend some time alone with you again," he admitted—his cheeks pinking slightly. "It was really nice being able to talk like we did Saturday night." He debated bringing up what he actually wanted to talk about, but he decided that it would do nothing but worry her during the day. It could wait.

"In that case," Mercedes replied—her expression happy but shy, "I'd love to."

Sam grinned, but he was distracted when the barista called their names. He hurried over to grab both cups. Once he had them in hand, he gave one to Mercedes and they started walking out of the door. Sam, in order to stop himself from kissing her, took a sip of his drink.

The gasp he let out startled Mercedes, but she burst out laughing at the delighted look on his face.

"Holy crap, that's _good_!"

Her laughter was heard in the café until the door swung shut behind them as they walked outside.

* * *

><p><strong>May 15, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**McKinley High School – Choir Room**

**Lima, Ohio**

**3:14PM**

Their cheers filled the choir room to the brim as they got lost in the excitement of placing twelfth at Nationals. It wasn't a perfect thing by any stretch of the imagination, but they had made it that far—and that was just as much of an accomplishment as winning.

Mercedes eyed their trophy from her spot beside Puck and she could clearly see the cracks in their little group. Rachel and Finn were back together—Mercedes didn't even want to get started on that relationship. Puck and Finn had never been the same since the whole Quinn ordeal.

Santana was still pissed and she didn't look pleased to be in the same room as Finn and Rachel. Brittany was oblivious to Artie's longing stares from beside her, and Sam and Quinn—well; she had her own thoughts about that relationship.

She knew that they were friends, but Quinn had never told her if she'd actually talked to Sam about everything. And even though that was a whole cluster that she didn't want to step into—she was overjoyed to have her soul-sister back in her life and a sexy boyfriend to boot. She just wanted the New Directions to be the family that they always claimed to be—a family that didn't tear each other down or stab each other in the back.

Mercedes promised herself that she would try her best to make it happen.

* * *

><p><strong>May 15, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**McKinley High School – Choir Room**

**Lima, Ohio**

**5:06PM**

Their celebration had lasted the entire two hours reserved for Glee. Santana and Brittany left after the cake had been eaten. Finn ducked out of the room about ten minutes after Santana—Rachel at his side. Kurt had followed the two of them with an eye roll—Finn was his ride for the week after his precious truck had broken down on a weekend drive to Dalton to visit Blaine.

Sam watched Puck and Lauren say their goodbyes before he was pulled out of his thoughts by Mike tossing a friendly arm over his shoulders.

"Are you coming with us to _Cookiez_?" Mike asked, "We're gonna head over and do some homework."

Sam grinned at his friend. "I'd like to, but I have plans already."

Sam could willingly admit that he had dyslexia, but he hated the fact that it caused him so much grief. As if school wasn't hard enough by itself.

Mike wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "You have _plans_?" he asked—a teasing quirk on his lips. "What kind of plans? And do they involve a pretty girl?"

Sam blushed, because he did have a crush on Lynn at some point—though he would never tell Mercedes that—but it definitely was more of a friendship thing now.

"Yes, they involve a girl," Sam said as he playfully pushed Mike off him, "but it's nowhere near what you're thinking."

Mike hummed in response which earned him a hard punch to the shoulder from Sam.

"It's a tutor," Sam told him, "One who's supposed to help me with my dyslexia and English homework."

"I'm just playing, man," Mike replied as he fist-bumped Sam. "Good luck with your tutoring stuff!"

Sam gave him a nod as he moved over to Artie and rolled him out of the room rapidly. Sam laughed when he heard Artie shouting, "Mike! _Stop!_ You're going to kill me—_shit!"_ There was a loud crash and a swell of laughter.

Sam chuckled when he heard Mike shout, "It's all good! Nobody's hurt!"

"Your driver's license should be revoked!" Artie joked loudly, "If you can't steer a guy in a wheelchair down an _empty_ hallway—I'd hate to see what you're like behind the wheel of a car."

Tina rolled her eyes as she heard the beginnings of a scuffle. "I'm going to go break up the bitchy wonder-twins," she told Mercedes—her amusement and irritation spreading through her eyes, "Meet you by the car?"

Mercedes laughed and nodded. Tina waved goodbye to Sam while he walked over to his chair and grabbed his backpack. He turned around just in time to see Mercedes release Quinn from a hug. He walked over to them.

There was a beat of awkward silence between the three. Sam knew that Quinn was informed about the change in their relationship, but he didn't know how she was going to react if they did anything romantic-ish in front of her.

"Can I walk you two ladies out to your cars?" he asked politely. Mercedes opened her mouth to say something, but Quinn beat her to it.

"Actually," she began, "I was hoping that we could talk, Sam."

Sam blinked at her. Mercedes looked slightly confused, and Quinn would barely meet his eyes. "Uh, sure," he agreed slowly—looking to Mercedes for help, but she seemed just as confused as he was.

Deciding that he didn't care about what Quinn would say, Sam turned to Mercedes and smiled at her. She looked just as beautiful now as she did when he'd last seen her this morning. Her lips weren't freshly glossed, but Sam hadn't kissed her since this morning and he wanted one—Quinn or no Quinn.

Sam leaned over towards her and he felt his lips twitch when her eyes popped wide open in surprise. She clearly hadn't expected him to kiss her, but she didn't back away when he finally came close enough to drop a kiss on her mouth. He saw her eyes dart momentarily to Quinn, but she looked back at him as soon as Sam their lips touched. It was soft and sweet and it had been less than a day, but he'd missed the feeling of her lips on his.

Jesus, he was such a sap.

Sam pulled away after a few more seconds and pressed his forehead against hers for a moment.

"I'll see you tonight?" he asked and Mercedes smiled.

"Yes," she replied before she stepped away from him. "Bye Sam, bye Quinn."

"Bye Cede," Sam called after her as she walked out of the door.

"Bye Mercy!" Quinn said.

Once Mercedes was gone—and the door shut behind her—Sam turned to Quinn. The blonde was wringing her hands together nervously and she looked a bit freaked out. Sam just hoped that this didn't get anymore awkward than it was right now.

He and Quinn were friends, but that was before he started dating Mercedes—someone she identified as her soul-sister. It almost felt like breaking the cardinal rule of never dating the sister of an ex-girlfriend. And they hadn't talked in almost a month and a half now.

The awkward silence finally got to him.

"It's been awhile since we've talked, huh?" Sam stated uncomfortably. He had no problem with his ex-girlfriend as a _person_, but he had never expected to be talking to her like this for a really long time or maybe _never again._

"It's been awhile since we've been alone in the same room," she replied dryly. Sam sensed something in her voice, but he couldn't quite decipher it. It put him on the defensive.

"Why are you talking to me?" he asked. Quinn looked faintly shocked at his bluntness—he had never been one to abruptly demand answers.

"I need you to understand what I did."

He really didn't want to open that box of hurt. Yeah, Sam was over her, but being cheated on would mess with anybody's feelings.

"_What_—did you finally grow a conscience?" Sam cracked—his tone was anything but joking.

Quinn looked like she'd been slapped.

_Okay, that was harsh._ He had been unnecessarily cruel with that one, but he really didn't want to have this conversation. She hadn't apologized or said a word about it after she'd done it, but _now _she wanted to talk about it?

"I've always had a conscience, Sam," Quinn told him, "I just didn't listen to it."

"Quinn," Sam sighed, "Can we _not_ do this?" He scrubbed a hand over his face. "We're _good_. We're friends. I'd like to move along now."

"Sam, we can't just keep pushing this subject away like it never happened," Quinn responded—a twinge of frustration in her voice.

"We've been doing fine so far," Sam retorted, "I don't understand why you're bringing it up now." His voice was harsher than he'd intended. She was scraping at wounds that had just healed over and he didn't like it. _Would he ever catch a break?_

"We're not _fine_." Quinn said, "You want to hate me, Sam—or maybe you do hate me. We've acted like nothing was wrong for months now! And we both know that it's not. I know I hurt you, and I know I—"

"I tried to talk to you about it a few days after I found out!" he told her sharply, "You remember _that_? When you first found out about my parents living in a motel and you came over? I wanted to talk about it. I begged you to tell me why and you were the one who acted like nothing fucking happened. So don't say _we_—_**we**_ didn't start this whole charade—_you did."_

"I know that, Sam," Quinn responded angrily, "I was being an idiot! I should've listened to you and I should've explained myself. I wasn't ready then. I was too confused and too hurt to—"

She was interrupted by Sam slamming his fist down on the piano next to him. The discordant sound of the keys tore through the choir room. Quinn gasped and Sam couldn't bring himself to care.

"I can't believe you!" he told her, "You have the nerve to stand in front of me and tell me how _hurt_ and _confused_ _**you **_were?"

"Sam—"

"I gave you _my world_, Quinn!" Sam snapped, "I told you I _loved you_. I practically worshipped the ground you walked on! I allowed you to make fun of my quirks because I cared about you so damn much. I bought you a promise ring! And you threw it all back in my face like it was _nothing_."

"I—"

"_You cheated on me,"_ he said—barely resisting the urge to snarl the words at her. "There's not much more for me to understand there, Quinn."

He couldn't stop his lip from curling in disgust, and he felt a momentary flash of triumph at the hurt and regret in her eyes. Any satisfaction was almost immediately replaced with shame when his brain registered the sheen of tears over her green eyes.

His dad had always told him that revenge was cold and empty—and the swell of guilt he felt in his stomach proved his dad right. _Damn_; sometimes Sam hated being a good person.

"It's not what you think, Sam," she protested. Sam's good mood was pretty much gone by this point and he didn't like it.

"Not what I think?" he snapped, "You attached your lips to another man's while you were still with me. I can't fucking help but notice that that is _exactly_ what I was thinking. Tell me I'm wrong."

The look he shot her was _cold_. She gave him a sharp look in return.

"You're not wrong," she said, "I did kiss Finn—"

"And you_ lied_ to me!" Sam hissed at her, "You lied to my face when I asked you to be honest with me."

"I can't take back what I did, Sam!" Quinn shot back at him—her tone was furious. She looked pissed as hell standing there with her fists clenched and her green eyes teary, but angry.

"You broke my trust, Quinn!" Sam shouted—his patience suddenly gone. Quinn didn't seem to know what to say to that.

Sam was pissed. He hadn't wanted this to happen—all the things that he'd kept under lock and key; everything he'd felt about Quinn and how she threw him away for something she considered better. But now that it was out there—there was very little chance of him being able to reign it all in.

"_What?"_ Quinn's voice sounded quiet following Sam's yell.

"You didn't just break my heart, Quinn," Sam told her—he could feel the tears burning at the back of his eyes. His throat was tight and his voice was cracking—she had practically destroyed him when she walked all over him. He had invested his everything into that relationship. "You took the trust I gave you and you just_ shit_ on it."

Quinn's eyes were watering hard now and Sam could see her fingers clutching the fabric of her dress. "Sam—I," Quinn started, but Sam shook his head at her. She stopped speaking.

"You killed _everything_ I thought was good about myself, Quinn," Sam told her softly—her gasp sounded loud in his ears. "You made me feel _inferior_ and like I would never be good enough for you—no matter how well I treated you. I trusted you with my heart and you threw it away like it didn't mean a _goddamn thing_ to you."

The horrified look in Quinn's eyes made him want to cry. His heart was remembering how painful it had been to admit that Quinn was cheating on him and those memories burned in his chest.

Sam refused to cry in front of her.

He didn't want to waste another tear on the tragedy that was their relationship.

"Look, Quinn— what do you want from me?" he demanded, "I told you we were cool, and I stayed the hell out of your business with Finn. I may have forgiven you, but that doesn't mean I'm going to forget."

"I don't want you to!" she snapped—and her words took him by surprise. She stared at him, her jaw set stubbornly and a fire flickering in her eyes. He had never seen that look on Quinn before.

She looked _determined_. Determined to do what, he didn't know.

"I don't get it," Sam told her honestly.

Quinn let out a choppy grunt as she threw her hands in the air. "I want you to remember how it felt when I walked all over you—and your offer of happiness," she said, "I want you to remember _everything_ you felt, because now you know the difference between infatuation and what could one day be _love_."

Sam stared. _Quinn was insane._ What the hell was she talking about?

He was taken aback when she stomped over to the row of empty chairs and plopped down in one.

"Sam, I know you're with Mercy," she said softly and Sam bit his lip in worry. Was she going to do something stupid? He knew how much it would hurt Mercedes if she did. "And Mercedes is everything that _I'm not_."

The admission looked like it broke her heart.

The gentleman in him wanted to go over there and comfort her—the poor girl looked like she was on the verge of tears—but the boyfriend in him was like _hell-to-the-no_. He had to know what her intentions were before he gave her any kind of opportunity.

"She's kind, compassionate, strong, smart," Quinn said, "Mercedes is an independent and joyful woman." Sam could completely agree with all of that. He thought the same. "And I have a feeling that the two of you are going to be amazing together."

She looked straight at him. "I have a long road to travel before I can be anything like Mercedes," she said.

The look in her eyes was forceful—Quinn looked ready to battle. He was so used to a passive and pliant Quinn that it was disconcerting to see such ambition. Sam was proud of her—this change had something to do with Mercedes; he was sure of it.

His lady had a gift for instilling hope and value into those who wanted to give up.

"And it's going to start with you," Quinn finished.

During her words, he had relaxed, but after hearing that—Sam tensed again.

"What does _that_ mean?" he asked.

"It means that I'm going to tell you why I did what I did," Quinn admitted, "The _whole_ story."

Sam gazed at her, and he sensed nothing but honesty coming from her. And there was a hell of a lot of fear, but she hid it well.

"You can walk away now," Quinn told him, "but if you decide to stay—I'm going to trust you with a part of myself that is vulnerable to everything right now."

"I could use this against you, you know," Sam said quietly—Quinn glanced up at him. "I have every right to do so after the way you treated me. Can you accept that?"

Sam saw the flash of terror in her eyes and the sudden swell of tears before she looked away. Her response would make or break his decision.

"I-I know," she replied shakily, "but I'm going to tell you anyway. I owe you that much."

For a moment, Sam seriously considered just walking out of the room. He didn't have to give her anything and there was nothing stopping him from leaving this part of his life behind and moving forward with Mercedes. But there had always been a part of him that wanted closure—he'd always wondered why he had never been enough for Quinn. The speculation had driven him to near tears many times, and here she was—offering absolution even with the knowledge that he could be spiteful.

Sam stared at her—her hands were in her lap, head bowed. She looked just as immaculate as she always did, but there was a sadness that radiated from her that he hadn't paid attention to before. He'd seen that type of sadness and despair before—in his own eyes after his mother walked out on their family.

He knew what it felt like to have everything ripped away from you, and as angry and hurt as he was—Sam never wanted anyone else to feel that way; especially not someone he called his friend.

With a sigh, Sam moved over to Quinn and slowly sat down beside her. She looked up at him, green eyes wide and Sam pulled his backpack off his shoulder.

"I'm listening," he said and Quinn sucked in a shaky breath as her eyes filled with tears.

She started talking—her voice clogged with sadness and regret. Each word trembled as she told him about having Beth and the days after. She was crying by the time she got to her postpartum diagnosis and she was sobbing as she told him about her severe depression and why she'd treated him and Finn like they meant nothing.

Sam's heart ached for her—or maybe it hurt for himself—because he had fallen for a girl too damaged to appreciate love and now he understood _why_.

A relationship was the last thing Quinn had needed at the time and he hadn't seen that, which made this whole disaster partly his fault—and she still wasn't ready to have someone love her. She needed to love herself first and the self-hatred he could feel coming from her told him that she had a long way to go.

When Quinn told him about wanting commit suicide after the funeral—Sam's anger was completely obliterated. Quinn could barely talk anymore because she was crying so hard, and Sam couldn't stop himself from pulling her into his embrace.

Her whole body vibrated with the force of her sobs and she clutched his shirt. "_Jesus_, Quinn," Sam whispered into her hair; rocking her lightly and rubbing his hands up and down her back in an attempt to give her some comfort.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," she cried, "_I am so sorry."_

"Shh," he told her, "It's going to be okay, Quinn. You're going to be okay. You have Mercedes and me and you don't have to go through this alone anymore."

For over twenty minutes, Sam tried his best to sooth a distraught Quinn and when her crying finally slowed down into hiccups and sniffles—Sam pulled back to look at her. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy and tear tracks mixed with eyeliner crisscrossed along her cheeks.

She looked miserable and the pain in her eyes made him feel like the biggest douche on the face of the planet for having talked to her that way even though he knew his anger was justified.

"Will you ever be able to forgive me?" she asked—her voice thick with residual tears.

Sam had to think for a moment. "I already have, Quinn," he told her, "but I—it's going to take a lot longer for me to be able to trust you again."

"Do you understand now?" she questioned, "You know that I didn't mean to hurt you?"

"Quinn," Sam responded as he moved away from her. Quinn used the sleeve of her sweater to wipe her face clean. She frowned at the black mark now on the cloth. "Even if you were sick—you still went into a relationship not caring how it would affect me. I understand_ why_ you did it, but you were also aware of what you were doing and illness doesn't release you from taking responsibility. I feel for you. I wish none of this had happened to you, but you dated me to try and correct your problem—not because you cared."

"I—I really I didn't mean to hurt you, Sam."

"I know you didn't _mean_ to hurt me, but you did. And then you did nothing to fix it afterwards."

Quinn looked down at her hands. "Will we ever be able to be friends again—_real_ friends?"

"I think so," Sam replied—he was uncertain to say the least. He wasn't angry anymore, but hurt didn't just evaporate with an explanation even if it was a _good_ one. "It'll take time, but I'm willing to try—if _you_ are."

Quinn gave him a weak, but sincere smile. "I'm definitely willing to try."

Sam glanced at the cheap watch he still wore on his wrist and he cursed. "_Crap!_ I am so late!" he said as he practically leapt out of his seat. Quinn looked startled by his sudden panic.

"Sam—"

"I'm sorry Quinn, but I have to go!" he told her as he threw his backpack onto his back. "I was supposed to meet Lynn for tutoring almost an hour ago. _Shit!_ I hope she's not mad."

Quinn blinked. "Wait—_Lynn?_ You mean Mercedes' aunt?" she questioned, her tone bewildered.

"Wha—oh, yeah! She's not her aunt by blood, but my family is living with her and my dad works for her."

"Oh—okay," Quinn stammered as she stood up from her chair, "I'm glad for you."

She obviously hadn't been clued into that part of the story. "Maybe we can talk about it later?" he asked and Quinn gave him a smile.

"I'd like that," she replied.

"Bye Quinn!" he said before he hastened towards the door. Quinn's voice calling him again made him pause to look back at her.

"Be_ good_ to Mercedes," she told him, "or I'll rip your balls off."

Sam gaped at her. That was the last thing he had expected her to say. It just sounded so _un-Quinn_ like that it threw Sam for a loop. He could tell she meant it though and he was glad that she cared about_ something_.

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied, before he shot out of the door and sprinted down the hall.

Lynn was going to be so pissed.

* * *

><p><strong>May 15, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**6:11PM**

Sam jumped the steps to the porch and skidded to a halt in front of the door. He used his key to unlock it and then made his way inside. The lights were on, but it was quiet in the house. He didn't hear Stevie or Stacey making a racket anywhere, but Lynn and his father's cars were both in the driveway when he pulled up.

Sam hung his keys on the hook against the wall and made his way down the hallway. He stopped when he heard the sound of someone putting the dishes away.

"Lynn?" he called.

"In the kitchen, Sam!" she replied and he made his way towards her—his backpack still on his shoulder. Sam greeted Lynn with a kiss on the cheek as soon as he walked into the kitchen.

She gave him a look.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he told her with an apologetic glance. They were supposed to have started studying at 5:30 that afternoon because Glee club ended at five, but he hadn't accounted for being pulled aside by Quinn. "Quinn needed to talk to me about some stuff."

"Is she alright?" Lynn asked as she wiped her hands on a dish towel.

"No," he replied honestly, "but I think she will be."

Lynn gave him a concerned look, but she didn't pry. He was grateful for it. She knew the whole story about Quinn already, and he honestly didn't feel like talking about it anymore at the moment.

"Where are Stacey and Stevie?" he asked as he dropped his backpack on the counter. Lynn gave him a stack of dishes to put away as soon as he turned around. He pouted and she gave him a sarcastic quirk of the lips as she moved away.

"They're with your father," she told him. Sam put the dishes down on the counter and opened the cabinet. "They both finished their homework really quickly, so they took Marley for her walk and Jeff decided to go down to the park so the two could play on the playground."

Sam quickly finished putting the dishes away and Lynn smiled at him. "Let's get started on that homework," she said. Sam nodded and grabbed his backpack. He followed her out of the kitchen and into the downstairs office.

There were two large tables in the center of the room and bookshelves lined the walls. Two armchairs were rested in front of the large window—Sam knew from experience how comfy they were. Stevie, Stacey, and Sam generally did their homework in here because it had a very calm, but studious air. Each white oak table had four matching chairs around it, and Sam plopped down in a chair.

Lynn brought a laptop, two pairs of headphones and a workbook over to the table. Sam pulled out his mechanical pencil as Lynn sat down in the seat next to him. She had him open the workbook.

"We're going to start with a pre-test at the beginning of every session," she began as she went through the pages, "There are about a hundred or so in this book alone and this is stage one. It'll take us about a year to get through all three stages. Every day, we'll do one or two sessions depending on how you're feeling, okay?"

Sam gave her a nod. "Are you sure you want to do this kind of thing with me for a _whole year,_ Lynn?" he asked. "That's a lot of time that you could be using for something else." She looked at him with a fond smile.

"Yes, Sam," she replied, "There's nothing I'd rather do than help you."

The honesty in her expression had Sam swallowing hard. He was so thankful for everything that she'd already given him and his family. To have her help him with something that had caused him shame his whole life—it touched that place in his heart that had been wounded so badly when his mother left them to suffer.

"Thank you," he told her and Lynn pulled his head towards her. She placed a kiss on the side of his forehead.

"You're welcome, Sam," she responded, before she picked up with the instructions. "So, a pre-test at the beginning of each session and a post-test at the end—just so we can gauge your improvement. I don't want you to be disappointed if your results stay the same or if they're less than what you were expecting." Lynn made sure to meet his eyes and he knew that she was serious.

"This isn't going to be easy," she said, "You're going to get frustrated and you're going to hate looking at something and not knowing how to change it. But you will improve and it will get better. I want you to promise me right now that you won't quit."

That was a hard pill to swallow. No one liked failure—especially not him, and Lynn was telling him bluntly that there would be lots of it. He didn't like it, but he didn't want to sit back and do nothing. He hadn't been raised to quit—his dad had never given up on them and he would be upset if Sam gave up on himself.

"I promise."

Lynn beamed as she flipped to the pre-test in the workbook. She handed the book to him and he got to reading as she opened the laptop and set up the program. The pre-test was a basic paragraph that he had to read silently, then read aloud. Once that was done—he had to listen to a recorded version of the paragraph and speak it along with them into the microphone on the headset.

It was one of the most _humiliating_ things he had ever done—he stumbled over words and the recording would pause until he said the highlighted word correctly.

Sam almost cried when the score popped up on the screen, but he saw Lynn sitting right there next to him. He didn't want to say anything at all. He was so _ashamed_. He tore his gaze away from the screen—he knew what failure felt like, but he hadn't expected it to be this hard to swallow.

Sam felt Lynn stand and walk away, but he was surprised when she sat back down next to him—another workbook in hand and she opened a new window on the laptop screen.

Sam's vision got blurry when he realized that Lynn was working on _math_—something she'd struggled with profusely because of her own condition. That was the most amazing thing anyone had ever done for him. He could hardly believe it. Sam watched her shoulder her way through the practice test. Her score was higher than his, but not the greatest.

Lynn sighed heavily and Sam made a snap decision. He scooted closer to her and made a tentative move to help her—she accepted his offer with an appreciative smile. For over an hour, they worked together—the session was exactly what Lynn had warned him about; frustrating, disappointing, and Sam balked at the idea of going through this again tomorrow, but he knew that Lynn would support him through it all—and he would do the same for her.

They stopped after completing one session each. The two had been wrapped inside their own world for the past hour—and hadn't even heard his dad and Stevie and Stacey return. Sam helped Lynn put the books away and he shut down the laptop.

His brain hurt and he still had to review for his exams on Friday.

"Good job today, Sam," she told him with a bright smile as she opened her arms for a hug. He stepped into her embrace and felt himself relax into her warmth. She was so loving and encouraging and her hug was reassuring.

"You too, Lynn," he told her. She let him go and turned around to walk out of the room.

"I think I'm going to go help your dad cook dinner," she said, "Knowing him he hasn't added one vegetable to the meal." She looked exasperated, but amused. Sam laughed, but then he remembered about his after dinner plans.

"Uh, Lynn," Sam stammered as she took a step out of the door. She looked back at him, her eyebrows high on her forehead. "I was wondering if it was okay for Mercedes to come over and hang out for awhile after dinner tonight?"

Lynn blinked, before she grinned. "Of course, but make sure to let your dad know."

Sam nodded and Lynn vanished out of the doorway. He was excited to see his girlfriend again, but he actually needed to study first—or Mercedes would kill him.

With a groan, Sam pulled his notebook out of his backpack and trudged over to the armchair. He dropped down into the soft cushions and started studying. At least he was comfortable—and would see his lady in less than an hour.

* * *

><p><strong>May 15, 2011 (Monday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**8:19PM**

Dinner had been a quick affair of green beans, mashed potatoes, and steak. Lynn, of course, made a salad to go along with it. She put extra carrots on his dad's plate just to spite him after his dad claimed that she was trying to turn him into a rabbit.

It was pretty funny. He got to hear all about Stacey's recital rehearsal and Stevie's science class. Since he had some chores to finish—Sam put his dishes in the sink and practically ran to collect the laundry and start the washing machine. He filled Marley's empty food bowl and gave her fresh water, before he tidied up the library again and put away all of his text books and backpack.

Sam made sure his bed was made and that there were no clothes on the floor. He had just finished making sure his room was clean when he heard the doorbell ring.

"_I got it!"_ he yelled as he ran out of his room and practically slid down the hallway in his socks. Sam pounded down the stairs and had to stop to catch his breath before he opened the door.

He glanced up to see his dad trying not to laugh and Lynn was practically dying as she giggled into a couch cushion. They were turned around, sitting on their knees and peering over the back of the couch—Stacey and Stevie were copying their position in between two of them. They had a direct view of the front door.

"_Excited_, are we?" his dad asked—the teasing glint in his eyes made Sam want to crawl under a rock and die. Stacey was smiling and Stevie was snickering into his hands.

Sam blushed furiously which made Lynn laugh harder. He turned away from them and straightened his t-shirt. Sam would never admit to running his fingers frantically through his hair before he opened the door, but his dad clearly saw him because he let out a bark of laughter.

_Oh, the embarrassment_. It was so worth it though when he opened the door and Mercedes gave him a warm smile. He couldn't resist smiling back at her. "Hi Sam," she said and he opened the door wider to let her inside.

"Hey Cede," he replied as she stepped past him. He shut the door and turned to face her. He was taken aback to see the kissy faces his whole family was making at them and Sam slapped a hand across his face.

Mercedes laughed loudly at his reaction—and probably at the bright red blush he could feel spreading across his cheeks.

"Lord, it's starting already," she bemoaned and Sam let out an embarrassed chuckle as he peered at her through his fingers. There was an expression of slight embarrassment on her face, but she didn't seem to care too much. She pulled his hand off his face and smiled. "I expect it'll be much worse when my family finds out."

He groaned at that observation, because it was probably true. "I'm pretty sure the playfulness comes _after_ the death threats," he told her, "Quinn already threatened to rip my balls off if I wasn't good to you."

"Sam!" Mercedes exclaimed as she poked him hard in the stomach. "Kids are present."

He laughed at the disapproving expression on her face. "I was quoting your friend! Why am I getting abused?"

"Because you said it around Stevie and Stacey!" she retorted, "And honestly, it's not like_** I**_ won't hurt you if you aren't good to me."

Sam blanched slightly. "Eh, good point."

Mercedes laughed at the look on his face, before she turned on her heel and walked towards the living room. Sam followed her. Greetings and hugs were exchanged over the back of the couch. Sam and Mercedes were both blushing with all of the teasing comments and jokes being told.

Sam finally got the courage to ask to leave about ten minutes later. "Dad, can we go up to my room?" he asked.

Jeff's eyes zeroed in on him and Sam had to resist shrinking back.

"Leave the door open," he told them both—"_Wide _open."

Sam saw Lynn touch his dad's arm and his father relaxed slightly. "No hanky panky, you two!" Lynn said and Sam's face felt like it was on fire. He saw Mercedes blush from the corner of his eye. They both nodded quickly.

"We're trusting you," Lynn said.

Yeah, they both got the message loud and clear—_fuck this up and you'll be watching the wiggles with Stevie and Stacey for a date. _

Sam kissed Stevie and Stacey goodnight, before he absently offered his hand to Mercedes. He felt her hand grasp his and he pulled her along behind him—up the stairs and into his bedroom.

"Make yourself at home," he told her before letting her hand go.

He made sure to prop the door open—all the way against the wall—as Mercedes placed her backpack and keys on his desk. She kicked off her ankle boots with a relieved sigh.

"Such a long day!" she said as she stretched her arms above her head. "It was fun, but I'm ready for summer."

Sam smiled at her, before he crawled onto his bed. Mercedes stared at him when he stretched a hand out to her.

"What are you doing?" she questioned warily.

"Cuddle with me?" he asked and Mercedes let out a huff of laughter.

"You are the only teenage boy who would blatantly ask someone to cuddle with them," she said in amusement. He shrugged.

"I ask for what I want," he replied and Mercedes shook her head in fond exasperation, but she took his hand and made her way onto the bed. Sam pulled her into his embrace and laid back against his stack of pillows.

The stress of the day just drained away as he held her. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, and she was warm and she smelled heavenly. "This is nice," she said into his chest. Sam kissed the top of her head.

He felt her start playing with his fingers and he had to smile. "I promise my hand is the same as it was yesterday."

She laughed. "You have nice hands," she told him as she weaved their fingers together. She looked up at him and he couldn't help but kiss her.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," he whispered. Her brow furrowed in concern at the telling look on his face.

"Go ahead," she replied.

"My dad told me that he was going to start looking for my mom," he said, "The court won't let him legally divorce her until he's provided significant proof that he attempted to look for her and came up empty."

"Jesus, Sam," Mercedes breathed—her brown eyes filled with worry. "That must've been hard to hear."

"Definitely not my idea of pleasant," he stated dryly. "I just—I don't really know how I feel about it. On one side, I'm glad the lying, cheating bitch will be out of my life forever, but on the other side—she's my mom. This is the woman who raised me to respect people and to love life as it was, but she's also the woman who broke those same morals and then abandoned us because she couldn't handle the stress anymore."

"Sam," Mercedes said, "I can tell that this has you all conflicted, and I'm not sure what to tell you."

Conflicted was definitely a word for what he was feeling. He closed his eyes when she placed a kiss on the underside of his jaw.

"Think of what will be the best thing for your family," Mercedes told him, "What will make them the happiest—what will make you the happiest? Is holding onto this hatred really going to do you any good in the long run?"

"No," he admitted, "but I can't just drop it like it doesn't hurt me."

"I'm not asking you to," she responded, "I just want you to accept that she hurt you and then stop giving her the power to do so. You deserve to be happy and no, it won't come immediately, but you do have the strength to cap off her ability to hurt you emotionally."

"Sometimes I wish I had come home early enough to stop her from leaving that night," Sam said, "I wonder how different our lives would be."

"There's one reason that I'm grateful for Elizabeth leaving," Mercedes stated—causing Sam to gape at her.

"What's that?" he questioned.

"My relationship with you," she replied, "I believe we would have gotten closer as friends, but I don't think any romantic feelings would have developed for a long time."

Thinking about it now—she was right. He broke the day she sang that song to him, and without that sudden trust—he wasn't sure their relationship would've taken the same course. It was a scary thought to think that he might've passed this up.

"In that case—I'm glad too." Mercedes smiled at him before placing her head back down on his chest and resuming her play with his fingers. They just cuddled for a long time—Sam eventually told her all about his conversation with Quinn and Mercedes told him about her similar encounter in New York. He listened and laughed when Mercedes recounted her afternoon with Mike, Tina and Artie. The stories she told had them both giggling. When it was nearing eleven o'clock, Mercedes reluctantly got up to leave.

Sam walked her to her car—their hands entwined.

"Will you be my date to Stacey's recital this Thursday night?" he asked after she'd tossed her backpack into the passenger side seat. Mercedes beamed.

"I'd love to," she replied.

Sam let her drive away after a sweet goodnight kiss. He watched until her tail lights disappeared around the corner. Sam walked back into the house with a large grin on his face.

* * *

><p>Tell me what you thought! Until next time! :D Have a good weekend!<p> 


	28. Something Called Progress

**DISCLAIMER: On first chapter.**

**This chapter was ridiculously long. 31 pages! Ahhhh! Happy Reading! :D**

* * *

><p><strong>May 17, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**Lima Bean Café **

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:07AM**

Mercedes watched Quinn sit down across from her—her hand wrapped around a cup full of green chai latte and the other holding her brown leather messenger bag.

The blonde looked happier, somehow.

She could tell that her soul-sister was still hurting something fierce, but it seemed that talking with Sam had granted her some relief. Mercedes sipped her warm drink and smiled at Quinn.

"You look hot today, girlie!" she told her, "Any particular reason?"

Quinn laughed as she dropped her bag's strap on the back of her chair. "I've got to look good on our dates!" she told Mercedes and the diva laughed. "I can't have anyone assuming that my girl is with someone else."

"Better be careful with that," she replied, "Sam might get jealous."

"Please," Quinn sassed with a snap of her fingers. "I have _dibs _on all of your fabulous."

Mercedes smiled. She loved being friends with Quinn again. She had missed their easy banter, their coffee dates before school—though Quinn had nothing but flavored teas while pregnant; she'd just missed _Quinn._

She didn't have many girl friends—Tina was her only constant. It was something that she needed more of in her life. And Quinn did look stunning today.

She was wearing this navy blue cap sleeve dress that had splashes of white all across it. The dress fell about an inch or so above her knee and she matched it with a pair of white and cork wedge heels. She had her short hair down, but one side was braided back and she'd pinned a white bow there.

Mercedes sipped at her drink, before she decided that it was now or never.

"I'm going to tell my family about Sam and I tonight," she blurted. Quinn stopped mid-drink and gawked at her over the rim of her cup.

Mercedes watched in amusement as Quinn swallowed quickly before setting her cup down on the table.

"_You are_?" she asked—the blonde looked torn between happiness and shock. "I thought you were going to keep it a secret for awhile."

"Well, I am," Mercedes admitted, "Just not from my family. I'm not ready to tell anyone else in Glee about us."

"What brought this on?" Quinn questioned. "You seemed pretty adamant about not letting anyone in a few days ago."

Mercedes looked away. She had been thinking about this for awhile. "It's not something I decided lightly, Que," she told her. Mercedes was taken aback by the bright smile that spread over Quinn's face. "What?"

"It's just—you haven't called me Que in almost a year now," Quinn replied, "I didn't realize how much I'd missed it." Mercedes gave her soul-sister a soft look. She had missed it too. "Anyways, _continue_!"

"Oh," Mercedes stammered, "Uh, well—I've been thinking about it a lot. This whole thing with Sam; it's my first _real_ relationship. I never thought I'd be here having to make a decision like this and I wanted to keep it close. So I knew that it was _mine_ and no one could take it from me."

That fear still existed. Mercedes fiddled with her cup as she spoke, "But after talking to Sam on the phone and hearing how _proud_ he was to be with me, it made me realize that I was acting like he was something shameful and that's the farthest thing from the truth. I'm just so nervous about how people will react—or if, uh—"

"Or if someone is going to come along and take him away from you," Quinn finished and Mercedes froze. Though tense, she nodded and Quinn let out a sad sigh.

"I will kick anyone's ass if they try to get between you and Sam, Mimi," Quinn told her and the rush of tears that came to Mercedes' eyes made her blink rapidly. "You and Sam—the two of you were friends before you got together and that's something that creates a good relationship. I think that you and Sam are going to blow us all out of the water."

"I'm so nervous about what they'll say, though." Mercedes said, "It's not like I've ever dated before and now I have to tell them that I'm dating a smokin' hot blond guy?"

Quinn laughed. "I think they'll be overprotective, but didn't you say that they liked Sam?"

"Well, yeah," Mercedes replied, "but that was before any cuddling, dates and kissing was involved in our relationship. I don't know what my dad is gonna do."

Quinn bit her lip in amusement as she sipped her latte. "I'm not too worried about Papa Jones," Quinn told her, "He knows how to get his point across without physical harm."

Mercedes shot her soul-sister a sarcastic look that was full of dismay and amusement. "Mama _adores_ Sam. He'd won her over like ten minutes after they met. It doesn't help that he's great with kids."

"In my opinion," Quinn said, "the only ones you're going to have to worry about are your brothers."

The groan Mercedes let out had Quinn cracking up. "_Ugh_, Que! Why'd you bring them up?"

"Because you already know that they're going to be ridiculous!" she responded in amusement. Mercedes just pushed her coffee to the side and buried her face in her arms. "And once they find out where Blondie has had his lips—_oh man_, they're going to kill him."

"I'm so glad you're enjoying this!" Mercedes whined from the safety of her arms. Quinn laughed again as she placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sure they won't be too bad about it," Quinn tried to reassure her, but the laughter she heard in her friend's tone just killed it.

"They are not allowed to kill Sam before we do—uh,_ things_." Mercedes protested as she sat back up. Quinn gaped at her and Mercedes felt herself blush furiously.

"Mimi!" Quinn squeaked, "Are you thinking about doing the dirty with Sam, _already_?"

Though her face felt like it was on fire, Mercedes met Quinn's eyes with a sassy quirk to her lips.

"You've seen Blondie!" she said, "I don't know how you resisted thinking about it."

"Honey, I promise that I thought about fornication with Sam Evans _many_ times," Quinn admitted—her face bright pink, "Not even I'm that strong."

"And how did you resist temptation?"

"There's a reason my hands are so strong, Mimi," Quinn cracked and Mercedes' jaw dropped. They both burst out laughing at the same time.

"Are you really considering having sex before you get married?" Quinn asked Mercedes—her tone was serious, the playfulness from earlier completely gone.

Mercedes didn't know the answer to that question. She had always thought that she would be the good Christian girl and wait until her man put a ring on it, before losing her virginity, but then again—she had never really thought that any man would want to be with her in that way.

"I don't know, Quinn," she replied, "I've always thought I would—but now—" She took a moment to pause and gather her thoughts.

Mercedes could clearly remember how her body had reacted to Sam's kisses and his hands on her skin. How could anyone resist something like that?

"Sam and I are just starting out," Mercedes said finally, "I think I'll wait a little bit longer before I seriously think about sex."

Quinn nodded. "If you ever need to talk—I'm here. And I wouldn't mind coming over tonight when you tell your parents about Sam."

"Thanks Que," she replied with a grateful smile, "Come over before dinner and you can sleep over—_again_."

Quinn laughed. Mercedes let the topic drift to the back of her mind as the two of them gathered their things and made for the door.

She had little to no experience in sexual ways—the idea of sex or topic of sex surely wouldn't be that important so close to the beginning of her and Sam's relationship. She told herself in three months or so—she'd revisit the thought.

* * *

><p><strong>May 17, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**McKinley High—Main Hallway**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:25AM**

Sam had just opened his locker door when someone called his name.

He glanced over his left shoulder and gave Finn a nod when he spotted the tall teen weaving his way through the crowded hallway in his direction. The brunet sidestepped a pair of girls who were giggling and he hustled over to Sam's side.

They greeted each other with a fist bump and a one-armed hug. "What's up, man?" Sam asked, turning most of his attention back to grabbing his books for class out of his locker.

"Not much, dude," Finn replied as he leaned his back against the lockers, "but I remember you saying something about being interested in cars."

"Yeah," Sam agreed as he shoved his English textbook into his backpack, "What about it?"

"Well, yesterday—some old guy dropped off this trashed car; and I mean _trashed_. Burt and Kurt are going to be working on rebuilding it as a fun thing and I thought you might want to see it."

Sam stared at Finn. "You really need to work on your delivery, man," Sam told him in amusement. Finn looked confused. "You sound like you just asked me out on a date, dude. And as handsome as you are—I'm not interested."

"_Wha_—shut up, man!" Finn protested when Sam started laughing. He shut his locker door.

"It's not my fault that you seem like you want to get your horizontal groove on with me," Sam said—his tone joking. Finn's face was bright pink when he swung at Sam. Sam ducked and moved down the hallway laughing.

"So you want me to come over and check out this car thing?" he asked and Finn nodded. The two of them fell into step as they dodged various students.

"Yeah," Finn replied, "it looks like it might be a big project and I know that Burt really wants to do it. But we don't have to just do that—we've got a nice set of hoops in the backyard and we can play some basketball if you get bored."

Sam shrugged. "Sounds like a good deal to me," he answered. Finn seemed a bit weird—like there was something he wanted to say but didn't know how to. Or maybe Sam was just overanalyzing everything because his mind was really on Mercedes and how he hadn't really seen her in the past couple of days.

With school, Glee, work, his sessions with Lynn, and studying for his exams—they hadn't been able to do more than talk on the phone for a little while and share a couple of kisses during their lunch in the auditorium. It didn't help that Stacey was practically begging him to rehearse with her for her recital.

He was happy that he would get to see her tomorrow night even though he'd be sharing her with his family. Maybe he'd be able to sneak in a kiss or two when no one was looking. Sam tore himself from his thoughts and said, "I can come over around five—"

Sam was interrupted by a hand falling on his shoulder. He and Finn both stopped. Sam glanced up and over at Coach Beiste, who had a stern expression on her face.

"Evans," she said, "You still haven't cleaned out your athletic locker yet."

Sam blinked. In the chaos of everything that had been going on this year, he had completely forgotten about it. "Crap," he said under his breath, "Sorry coach."

"It's fine, kid," Coach Beiste replied, "Just get your crap out of there soon. The locker room is smelly enough—I don't need the extra corn chip smell. It's putting me off my frito pies."

"You know what a frito pie is?" Sam asked in shock—most people had no idea what that was. It was a Southern dish.

"Of course I know what that is, Evans," she replied. Sam grinned at his coach.

"I'll clean it out afterschool today," he told her. She nodded and patted him on the shoulder, before moving down the hall. Sam turned back to Finn. "I can't believe she knows what a frito pie is!"

"I'll pretend like I know what that is so I don't feel left out," Finn replied and Sam laughed.

"I'll have to show you man," Sam said, "You would love them!" Their conversation ended when the bell rang and the two split to go to homeroom.

* * *

><p><strong>May 17, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**Lynn's House—Downstairs Study**

**Lima, Ohio**

**9:06AM**

Jeffrey was tired before he even started. There were so many places that Elizabeth could be, but with the money she stole from them—she could've gone anywhere. What if she wasn't even in the country anymore?

He shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts. Being negative right now would get him absolutely nowhere and _this_—this needed to happen. He wasn't going to allow her to have any control over his kids.

_Or any control over him. _

Jeff dropped the four large files full of bank statements, overdue notices, and bills onto the desk with a loud sigh before he tipped it over and started sorting. It took him half an hour just to separate everything into different piles and then he started organizing by date.

Jeff sat his desk and called every company asking for information. He got yelled at, hung up on, and kindly asked to forget about receiving their services again. Apparently Elizabeth had been as rude as possible to all of them when she cancelled their shit—so another point to her for killing that route for him.

He'd worked for three hours and ended up with nothing except a raging headache and a pile of crumpled papers. When the last company offered him no information, Jeff slammed his phone down onto the desk and massaged his temples. He would have to file individual requests to get information from all of those companies now—which would take twice as long because they had to be cleared through the court first.

Frustrated wasn't even close to describing how he felt. It was this strange mix of resentment, anger, and irritation—and Jeff just wanted to _hit_ something. He left the mess of papers on his desk and changed into some workout shorts before grabbing a v-neck white tee from the drawer.

A long run would be nice and he could take Marley with him.

He slammed his way out of his bedroom and made his way downstairs. Jeff tugged his white t-shirt over his head as he approached the back doors that led to the backyard. He opened the door after grabbing Marley's leash from the doggy basket in cabinet under the stairs.

"Marley!" Jeff called out. "_Marls_! Want to go for a run with me, girl?"

The sound of a dog barking made him smile as the golden retriever tore around the side of a tree. Her ears were flopping like mad and her tail was wagging so fast that she practically created a new trade wind.

Jeff had to chuckle as she bounded over—her brown eyes bright. Marley almost crashed into Jeff's legs causing him to laugh as she skid to a halt next to him and started barking and sniffing. He rubbed his hand across her head and scratched that spot behind her ears that he knew she liked.

Her tail wagged even faster.

Jeff clipped her leash onto her collar and then led the dog into the house. He bent over to grab a chew toy, some doggy treats, and a ball then made his way into the kitchen. He tossed a bottle of water from the fridge into a small backpack along with Marley's things—and almost grabbed a bag of chips from the snack cabinet, but he spotted a note taped onto the door from Lynn.

It read, "**An apple a day keeps the old age away!"**

Jeff smiled and shook his head, but he did grab a granny apple from the fruit basket on the counter instead. He looked down at Marley, who was following him around the kitchen, and grabbed another bottle of water. Jeff stuffed a small bowl into the bag as well.

It didn't take Jeff long to swing the bag over his shoulders, turn off all the lights, lead Marley out of the house and lock the doors. Before he knew it, he was jogging down the street at a steady pace—Marley trotted alongside him; her strides healthy and even. He let all the feelings from this morning drift away as he got lost in the rhythmic pounding of his shoes hitting the pavement.

Jeff didn't know how long or how far he ran—his mind was blissfully blank the whole way, but he found himself at a park that was about four or five miles from his home. He blinked in surprise as he slowed to a stop.

Marley circled him—nudging him with her nose as he stretched. Jeff walked them over to a big oak tree and plopped down in the grass. He pulled out his bottle of water and took a long drink as Marley trotted around the tree—sniffing at everything.

Jeff took out the other bottle and the bowl and poured her some water. "Marls, I've got some water for you, girl!" he called and she came over immediately. Jeff smiled at the dog, before capping the empty bottle and putting it down beside his bag.

With a heavy sigh, Jeff laid out in the grass. His thoughts were definitely clearer now that he'd run off all of his anger. It was just like his wife to aggravate him on his only day off from work. Jeff was interrupted by Marley pawing her way over his chest. He laughed when she started licking his face.

"You love me, huh?" he asked as he scratched behind her ears. She nosed his chin and let out a soft whine. "I'll take that as a yes."

He huffed out a breath when Marley literally climbed over him and then rolled on her back next to him. She flipped back over and then laid down close to Jeff's side, her head resting on her paws.

Jeff started talking. "My wife is a pain in the ass, Marley," he told the dog, "Not only is she ruining my life, but my children's."

He told Marley his completely uncensored thoughts about Elizabeth, and how his job screwed him over and how he was sure that this divorce was a long time coming. He even talked about how happy he was that Sam was dating a great girl like Mercedes and how proud he was of all of his kids. Jeff asked Marley what he should do about his burgeoning feelings for Lynn.

He laughed when Marley just covered her eyes with her paws in reply.

"Oh, yeah, thanks for all that great advice," he told her.

She just barked at him.

* * *

><p><strong>May 17, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**Clarity—Back Office**

**Lima, Ohio**

**12:09PM**

Lynn sprawled out on the hardwood floor of her office and let out a loud groan of frustration. There was so much to be done! Furniture had to be ordered and shipping arrangements had to be made. She had to talk to the bank about the new set of pay-lines she wanted to set up. She had to figure out what the restaurant hours would be—and then she had to worry about hiring employees.

Lynn wanted to find some truly nice artwork, but she was torn between making part of the walls an art exhibit for the work of the students in the area or if she should go for professional work. The color of the curtains she'd ordered wasn't the correct one so she had to return those and re-order. She had to create the menu—and finding cooks was going to be another thing.

There was the opening night party to plan—she had to line up performances, make invitations, design the website, send out invitations, buy ad space in the papers—_on and on_ the list went.

Lynn's to-do list was already _ten pages_—single spaced. And then there was the music shop to worry about—she had been getting complaints about the sudden closure and she couldn't decide if she should reopen, but when was she going to have time to run the shop _and_ work on the restaurant?

Jeff had been ridiculously busy with all the remodeling—installing light fixtures, new doors, painting the outside of the shop, creating the sign, and working on the new piping and bathroom tiling. He was swamped in work—even with Sam's help.

She would have to talk to him about hiring some other people to come in and work with them. And she had to have a safety inspector come in. Jesus, the list just kept growing and that was just for Clarity.

She had stocks and bonds to maintain—and a meeting with her financial advisor coming up soon. The kids had lots of things they were doing—Stacey's upcoming recital and Stevie really wanted to do something with science this summer. She was already looking into dance camps for Stacey and swimming for Stevie—and she had found a bunch of cool books full of science experiments that he would love.

It would take a couple of weeks for them all to get here, but she figured he would enjoy it. And hopefully, she would be able to sign Stacey up for soccer and softball like she wanted. Lynn had even found these sports programs that Sam might even like, but she hadn't said anything to Jeff just yet.

There was the fourth of July party she threw every year to worry about, and the twins were turning eight in June. She really wanted to plan a birthday party for them—and she needed to plan it with Jeff.

She needed to talk to him about it before anything was decided. And her daily sessions with Sam were a drain on time, but she wouldn't give them up for anything. Taking care of them was difficult, but she loved every moment of it.

And lord, if her feelings for Jeffrey weren't getting stronger every day.

He had actually cut the grass yesterday—his shirt had come off half-way through—and Lynn had to tear herself away from the window. He was an incredibly attractive man.

There were so many things wrong with the situation. Yes, he was a man who had fallen out of love with his wife and they would be divorced soon enough, but he was still married. And what would he want with a practically virginal woman like her who wouldn't know how to be sexy if it slapped her across the face?

Jeff could have any woman he wanted, and she would definitely be on the bottom of that list. Feeling like she was depressing herself, Lynn let the notebook she was holding in her hand fall to the ground beside her.

She breathed deeply through her nose and just let her eyes close. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear the sound of approaching footsteps, but she did hear the huff of laughter from the doorway.

"What on earth are you doing, Lynnette?" Lynn's eyes snapped open and she tilted her head back to glance at whoever was standing in the office. She smiled when she recognized Delia.

"Nothing," she sing-songed as she relaxed back into her position on the floor and closed her eyes again. Delia laughed and Lynn heard her walk over. She only opened her eyes when she felt someone lay down next to her on the floor.

"This is rather comfortable," Delia said and Lynn laughed.

"No it's not," she replied.

"Then why are you doing it?"

"Because it's more fun than working on that God-awful list over there," Lynn responded. Delia sat up and grabbed the aforementioned list that Lynn had printed off and carried with her everywhere for the past two weeks. There were plenty of things crossed out and added on, but it still seemed never-ending.

"Good Lord, girl," Delia exclaimed as she flipped through the list. "No wonder you're stretched out on the floor. I would've gone to bed crying if I had all of this to sort through."

"Please tell me why I thought this was a good idea?"Lynn bemoaned dramatically.

Delia laughed and said, "I have a feeling that this was just a thought until a certain green-eyed blond teenager walked into your life."

Lynn responded with a laugh, because it was pretty true. Sam had her wrapped around his finger as soon as she'd seen the desperate expression in his eyes. It didn't help that she was crushing pretty hardcore on his father.

"Alright," Delia said as she tossed the list onto the desk and stood up. Lynn watched her walk towards her with a wary expression. "Come on, girlie. Let's take a break from all this and go get some lunch."

"Dell!" Lynn replied, "I don't have time for that. You saw the list. I brought a sandwich—"

"Absolutely not!" Delia protested as she held out her hands to Lynn. "You've been working day and night and you deserve a good meal. I know you've been cooking five-star meals for the Evans family and you need to eat food that you didn't prepare."

"Delia," Lynn began, but her friend gave her a stern look and Lynn stopped fighting. When Delia got that steely look in her blue-gray eyes, there was no arguing. She stretched her hands out to her best friend and let herself be pulled off the floor.

"Let me go clean up a bit and then I'll be ready to go," Lynn told her friend and Delia nodded.

Delia looked stunning in tan sundress with a square neckline and a pair of magenta pumps. Her hair was down and in some intense curls. Lynn walked to the bathroom quickly and checked herself over in the mirror. She was wearing an ivory lace dress with three-quarter sleeves and an A-line skirt. Her hair was down and straight and she finished the outfit off with a thick brown belt and a pair of brown leather ankle boots.

After making sure she was presentable, Lynn walked out of the bathroom and moved through the space until she found Delia waiting for her by the front door—Lynn's purse in hand.

"Where should we go?" Lynn asked as she shut off the lights and followed Delia outside.

"I'm thinking Athena's," Delia replied, "I'm in the mood for some Greek food."

Greek fries did sound quite delicious. Their choice made—Lynn allowed Delia to drive her over to the restaurant. It only took them about ten minutes to be seated and have their drinks ordered.

They spent awhile discussing Delia's work and how busy her schedule was going to become next year with the expansion, before their food was brought over. Lynn got in about five bites of this delicious shrimp and pasta dish before Delia started asking questions.

"How are you, my love?" Delia asked, "You've been working so hard that I've barely seen you outside of church."

"Dell, I'm fine," Lynn told her friend honestly, "I'm happy even."

Lynn ate some more, but she could feel Delia's eyes on her.

"You are happier," she admitted finally, "but you're not happy, Lynn."

"Dell—"

"No," Delia said, "I know you. And I know how you are when there's something troubling you."

Lynn sighed heavily. "I love having them in my home, Delia," Lynn told her friend, "I adore seeing them in the morning—getting hugs, having them ask for my help, but I'm scared that I'll become too attached and when Jeff leaves my house next year—that I'll never see them again."

Lynn was terrified. She loved them all so much already—tucking them in at night, talking their problems out with them, cooking them dinner, driving them to school—it was something she had always wanted and those children were ridiculously adorable.

"And I might have some feelings for Jeffrey that aren't strictly platonic," Lynn confessed and Delia's jaw dropped.

Lynn told her everything that she was feeling—her fears about loving the kids too much and overstepping her bounds; how she found herself really attracted to Jeff and how she was petrified because romance could do both great and horrible things to their relationship. It was a long discussion and lunch stretched from forty-five minutes to three hours, but she felt so much better afterwards.

Delia listened intently and gave some good advice. "Lynn, you're both grown and you've both suffered in the love department, but you are not too damaged to fall in love with a wonderful man like Jeffrey and he's not an idiot who would reject you because you don't have as much sexual experience as he does." She sat back in her chair and wiped her mouth with her napkin. "I say that you stop putting yourself down for what my dumbass brother did and accept that you're a beautiful, intelligent woman."

"I don't know how to do this dating or wooing thing, Dell!"

"Honey, I don't think you need to," Delia replied, "Just relax and let things go at their own pace. If he likes you—he's going to like you the way you are. If something happens between you two, don't run away from it."

"I don't want to get my hopes up," Lynn admitted.

"Love is all about hoping, sweetheart," Delia told her, "If you don't plant the seed—it's never going to grow."

Lynn had no response.

"You don't have to decide anything right now, Lynn," Delia said, "Just give it time, honey. I have a feeling that everything will work out exactly the way it's supposed to."

Even though they spent several hours together, it was still sad when their lunch did come to an end. Lynn felt like her thoughts were more organized, but her heart was more conflicted than ever. She went back to work on her list as soon as she'd hugged Delia goodbye.

Love was all about hope, but what if she wasn't able to wish for something that seemed so farfetched?

**May 17, 2011 (Wednesday)**

**McKinley High—Choir Room**

**Lima, Ohio**

**3:04PM**

Mr. Schue hadn't come into the room yet, but every Glee club member was already inside and seated. Sam was sitting in between Mike and Finn on the other side of the classroom—she had given him a good look-over when he walked in the room. Artie was in front of them.

His snug blue Hanes t-shirt and dark jeans looked quite good on him—his letterman jacket was just the icing on the hottie-cake. Quinn's nudge to her side had stopped her from practically drooling, but it was her soul-sister's laughing eyes that had Mercedes looking at everyone but Sam.

Quinn was sitting on her right and Tina was sitting on her left. Kurt was next to Rachel who was by Finn. Santana and Brittany were as far away from Finn and Rachel as possible—Santana could be in the same room with them now, but she was still angry. Mercedes was positive that Brittany just had Santana pussy-whipped—_literally_.

Puck and Lauren were whispering in the back row. Mercedes decided that it was now or never.

She stood up abruptly—interrupting the conversation between Quinn and Tina. "Mercy, what's wrong?" Tina asked with a worried frown.

Mercedes shook her head as she stepped down the risers from her seat and stood in front of the group. She cleared her throat loudly and they all stared at her. Sam's eyebrows were raised and Quinn had her head cocked to the side in bewildered interest.

"I was wondering if everyone would like to spend the night at my house on Friday to celebrate the end of school?" she blurted. Sam gaped. Quinn's eyes almost bugged out of her head and Kurt's jaw dropped. Everyone else just blinked.

"Would there be enough room for all of us?" Artie asked. Quinn had to choke down a laugh and Sam bit his lip to stop himself from cracking up. Kurt just kept staring. Everyone else was confused by their reactions.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure there's enough room," Mercedes replied with an amused smile.

"Is this okay with your parents, Mercedes?" Rachel asked primly, "I know that my fathers wouldn't have approved of our party this year at my home."

"Shut up, hobbit," Santana snarked, "Your party was only good because we got plastered. It probably would've been better if your parents were there and _you weren't_."

"_Excuse me_?" Rachel asked indignantly as she turned to face Santana.

Santana opened her mouth to say something else in reply, but Brittany grabbed Santana's arm. The Latina exhaled loudly and turned away from Rachel.

"Yes, Rachel," Mercedes replied, "I've cleared this with my parents. And no, there won't be any alcohol, Puck."

She had seen him lean forward to say something, and he sat back with pout after her response. She rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.

"I've got to clear it with my parents first, but if they say yes, I'm in," Mike told Mercedes. Finn and Kurt shared the same sentiments. Rachel grudgingly agreed after Santana and Brittany said they would both be there.

"I'm in," Sam said without hesitation and Mercedes had to bite back the sudden smile that threatened to cross her face. He was giving her a proud smile and Mercedes couldn't help but blush.

"You already know I'm there," Quinn responded with a knowing grin. Mercedes shook her head, but smiled when Tina and Artie said they would ask their parents, but would go if they were allowed.

"I'll give you my address right now," Mercedes told them, "Be there at eight o'clock Friday night. You can tell your parents that it will be supervised because both my mom and dad will be home. And you'll all be fed." She then rattled off her address and everyone scribbled it down with the notable exception of Quinn, Sam, and Kurt.

Mercedes finished just as Mr. Schue walked into the classroom.

She smiled at him, before she walked back to her chair and sat down. She felt Quinn entwine their fingers and she smiled when she felt the reassuring squeeze. Mercedes blushed after Quinn laid a kiss on her cheek.

"What was that for?" she whispered and Quinn flashed the screen of her phone to Mercedes. The diva read it quickly after she realized that it was a text from Sam to Quinn. He must have sent it when she wasn't paying attention.

**Give my lady a kiss for me? So proud of her. **

Mercedes glanced over her left shoulder and gave Sam a bright smile. He grinned right back at her. Mercedes faced forward to listen to Mr. Schue, but she squeezed Quinn's hand again. Her soul-sister leaned her head onto Mercedes' shoulder and Mercedes rested her head atop Quinn's.

Happy didn't even begin to describe her mood.

* * *

><p><strong>May 17, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**McKinley High—Boy's Locker Room**

**Lima, Ohio**

**4:26PM**

Sam stared at the mess that was his athletic locker—dirty socks, cleats he hadn't used in months, random clothes, and a bunch of papers that he was pretty sure used to be his playbook. Disgusted with himself, Sam pulled out the clothes first—gagging when the sweaty stench filled his nostrils. He hurried over to the showers and dumped them on the floor before covering them in someone's abandoned Axe body wash.

He scrubbed them all separately and together until they weren't stiff or smelly anymore. It took him like ten minutes to complete that task. Sam took his time—making sure to rinse everything individually until all the soap suds were gone. Then he wrung all the clothes out until the majority of the water was gone. Once finished, he laid them across the tile wall to let them dry until he had to leave.

Sam washed and dried his hands quickly before moving back to his locker. He picked up the mess of papers and looked through it all—some were random drawings that he'd done and Sam wasn't sure if he wanted to keep those or not—so he put them aside. After he'd thrown away all the crap and reorganized his playbook, Sam shoved it into his backpack. He turned back to his locker and picked up the cleats.

Oh yeah, they were _nasty_. Dried mud and grass were in between all the spokes on the bottom and there was dirt caked everywhere along the sides. Angry at himself for not treating his stuff right, Sam picked up the old toothbrush he'd found on the bottom of his locker. Holding the cleats in one hand and the body wash and toothbrush in the other—Sam went over to the sinks and turned on the water. With a sigh, he started scrubbing.

One minute in—Sam realized that this would take a while, but he kept going. Fifteen minutes later, he had one shoe cleaned. He was so into his work that he didn't hear the locker room door opening or the sound of someone walking inside.

"Sam?"

His head swung towards the door when he heard his girlfriend's voice calling his name. Sam was sure that he was imagining it—there was no way that Cede would be in the boy's locker room, but he saw her walk through the doorway with a shifty look in her eyes as she tiptoed inside.

His amusement skyrocketed. She was trying to be sneaky while wearing a lavender dress with thick straps and a square neckline. Her dark purple and white striped cardigan wasn't helping.

"I'm the only one in here, Mercy," he said—and he laughed when she jumped at the sound of his voice. He glanced her over again—and the sight of her black chucks that went all the way up to her knees made him grin. Her hair was down in that curly/crimpy/wavy thing that she did—it was his favorite hair style on her.

Sam thought she looked _gorgeous_.

"Jesus, Sam!" she cried—her hand over her heart. "Some warning next time would be nice."

"Was I supposed to like bang on the wall or something?" he replied and she gave him the stink eye. Sam laughed again, before he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I ran into Finn, who told me where you were after I said I needed to get something from you. I had been waiting by your locker so I could say goodbye, but you never showed up," she answered as she came closer to him. Sam felt a twinge of guilt for that—he had completely spaced on letting her know that he wouldn't be there, but Mercedes didn't seem angry or anything.

"Are you sure that no one else is here?" she asked—her eyes peering around warily as though she expected Coach Beiste to leap out of a corner and write her up.

"Why are you so paranoid, babe?" he teased as he absently scrubbed at his shoe.

"Umm, _hello_," Mercedes responded—her tone disbelieving, "_Female_ in the boy's locker room. I could get written up or even worse, _suspended_ for being here."

Sam laughed and said, "Mercedes Jones—an academic by day and rule breaker by afternoon."

"_Don't make fun_!" she said as she poked him on the shoulder.

"I'm positive that no one else is here but me," Sam told her—it was funny but she did seem really worried. He didn't want to upset her. Sam knew how important school was for her, and how much of a goody-two shoe she actually was. She wasn't willing to take shit from people, but she liked being the good girl most of the time.

He wouldn't lie. It was really hot that she would break the rules for him.

Mercedes eyed him for a moment, but she did relax after a few moments.

"Well, I didn't sneak in here for nothing," she said with a playful sparkle in her brown eyes, "Are you going to greet me _properly_ or not?"

Sam's eyebrows rose and he almost grabbed her for a kiss—before he remembered that he was up to his elbows in muddy water and dirty soap suds.

He floundered for a minute—cursing his hands in his mind, before Mercedes' laugh registered.

He looked at her, before leaning towards her—his hands still in the sink. Mercedes laughed a bit but she rose up to meet his lips in a soft kiss.

It was only a soft peck and Sam wanted more, but he had promised he wouldn't push her—and he was a man of his word. He pulled back with a hum of content. He smiled down at her.

"Hello sweetheart," he said. Mercedes' face lit up and she grinned at him.

"Hi Sammy," she replied shyly and he did not expect that name to make him blush. His sister called him that. His brother called him that. His dad called him that same name, but Mercedes says it and it's completely different. Sam straightened up and leaned over the sink again.

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously and Sam lifted a dirty cleat out of the water.

"I didn't clean my locker out after football season so I have to do it now," he answered, "And I'd forgotten a ton of stuff in there. My cleats were _filthy_—which is why it's taking me so long to clean them up."

Sam started scrubbing vigorously—wanting to be done already.

Mercedes wrinkled her nose as she leaned against the wall. He worked in silence for a few minutes until he said something that had been kind of on his mind for a while now.

"Can I ask you something?" he inquired as Mercedes pulled the straps of her backpack off her shoulders and dropped it onto the ground.

"Anything, babe," she said absently as she opened the front pocket of her bag and stuffed her phone and keys inside.

"I was thinking that instead of just playing football next year," Sam started causing Mercedes to look up at him, "that I could play some other sports too." She straightened up and stepped closer to the sink—turning to put her back against the wall—but she stood far enough away that she wouldn't get splashed with any of the dirty water Sam's hands were in.

Mercedes looked faintly surprised. "Like what?" she asked—he didn't hear any disapproval in her voice, just curiosity. Sam scrubbed off a particularly stubborn piece of dried mud and grass before he answered.

"Basketball," he said slowly, "and baseball."

"Any particular reason?" she asked after a few moments of contemplative silence.

"I don't know," he said with an indifferent shrug. Mercedes gave him a look that had Sam feeling slightly defensive. "_What_? I don't."

"You do know," she replied matter-of-factly, "Otherwise you wouldn't have said anything."

Sam avoided looking at her. He'd had this discussion with Quinn last year—before everything financially went to crap, and she'd shut him down almost immediately. She'd told him that baseball players and football players didn't get along and when was he going to spend time with her if he did all that. Being shutdown once was quite enough—he didn't even want to present such an option to Mercedes.

When Mercedes just stared at him expectantly, Sam sighed.

"I played all three in middle school and at the beginning of high school, but when we moved out here—I just got too busy. I considered it last year, but we didn't have the money for the fees or the equipment."

Sam finally finished scrubbing his cleats clean. He turned off the faucet and shook as much water from both of them as possible. He placed them on a bench and then washed his hands again. Sam dried them on a towel hanging from the rack.

Picking up his cleats, Mercedes followed him as he walked back to his now empty locker.

"So, this is something that you really want to do?" Mercedes clarified and Sam nodded. "Then I say, go for it."

Sam paused in his perusal of his locker to stare at her. "Are you _serious_?"

"Of course!" she responded, "Did you expect me to not encourage you?"

"Well, no," Sam sputtered, "but—it's just with three sports, school, work, and Stacey and Stevie—you might not see me as much as you'd like to."

"Sam," Mercedes said, "I don't _own_ you. I don't tell you what to do. We're together because we _want_ to be—and it makes _both of us happy_. I'm going to support you when you do things that make you happy. Your life doesn't revolve around me and I don't expect or want it to."

Sam had never been told that before. Most of his girlfriends had been just the opposite. He stared at Mercedes for a long while before he beamed at her.

"You are the best girlfriend ever," he told her. She blushed in response.

"I am not," she protested as Sam grinned at her—finally shutting his locker door.

"No, you are," he replied, "You really, _really_ are."

Without missing a beat, Sam leaned over and dropped a kiss on her lips. It was just as sweet and innocent as the first one, but when he pulled away—her brown eyes were glazed over and her cheeks were flushed. For Sam, that changed _everything. _

Sam brushed his lips against hers once again—and again and again until he was pressing them against hers in a full kiss. The little gasp Mercedes made when his tongue traced her bottom lip pushed all the right buttons. He gently pressed her against the lockers—his hands falling on her waist and squeezing softly as she opened up to him.

Her hand dropped onto his shoulder and he felt her other one cup the side of his face before somehow both of them ended up in his hair. Her unintentional tugging pulled a soft groan from him before he could prevent it.

His girlfriend was one hot lady.

Breathless, lips pushing and pulling and _sucking_, tongues entwining and twisting—it was the hottest thing Sam had ever done. He kissed his way down the side of her neck—feeling gratified when Mercedes' back arched and her head fell against the lockers. Sam nipped and licked his way down to her collarbone—being careful to not leave any hickeys.

He wasn't stupid—he knew her brothers would fucking kill him if he left a love bite on her. Making out with Mercedes was way better than he had ever imagined.

Lifting one hand from her waist, Sam gently pushed the thick strap of her dress out of the way—placing kisses all the way down from her next to her shoulder.

"_Txe'lan_," she practically moaned when Sam sucked gently on the area beneath the strap of her dress. She tugged on his hair when Sam used his tongue to lick across her shoulder and back up to the underside of her jaw. He felt her shudder gently under his attention and his hand slipped from her waist to her thigh.

He wasn't expecting to feel smooth skin coming into contact with his palm. Her dress must have ridden up sometime between that first kiss he'd laid on her and now. She let out another sweet, sensual sound and clenched her thigh.

And _oh fuck_, he was harder than a rock in less than a minute. Sam—stock full of arousal and hormones—tugged Mercedes' hips closer before he captured her lips in another kiss. Both of them were forceful this time and Sam couldn't help but think that for never having done this before—Mercedes was a _natural_.

He pulled back to catch his breath and he glimpsed Mercedes. She looked wanton and _wrecked_. Her lips kiss swollen, chest heaving and brown eyes glazed over with lust—Sam swooped back in and kissed her senseless.

He was taken aback when Mercedes' hips twitched and Sam groaned against her lips. The grind he gave in return was completely involuntary, but Mercedes' gasp of, "_Sam_" and the breathy sound she released almost _broke_ him.

Sam came back to his senses when she bucked her hips against his almost painful erection. He literally had to fight through the haze of pleasure to realize that this was _not right_. Mercedes deserved more than to be dry-humped against the wall in the boy's locker room. He shuddered when Mercedes ground her hips against him again. He gasped, before he caught her hips in his hands.

"Mercy, we need to stop," he rasped.

Mercedes made this mewling noise of discontent that tested Sam's restraint. If they had been dating for longer than a week—he would be all over this. If Mercedes hadn't told him four days ago that making out scared the shit out of her—he would be okay with this, but that was what happened and he wasn't about to give his girl an orgasm and then have her scared shitless or avoiding him.

He would rock her world one day, but that day was _not_ today.

His body did not agree with him, but his mind and heart were like _**hell-to-the-no**_. Mercedes deserved more than a quick romp, and when he did it—he would make her scream.

"Baby, _please_," he said, when Mercedes tugged on his hair. Sam finally forced himself to step away from her. "We can't do this here," he told her softly, "And I know this is not how you want things to go down, but I swear that if you pull me into another hot kiss like that—I'm not sure if I'll be able to stop myself."

Mercedes shook her head and Sam saw awareness drift back into her brown eyes. She immediately blushed. She looked a mess, but a sexy one. Her dress was askew and her sweater was hanging off her shoulders. Sam groaned and turned away from her—trying to calm himself down.

He heard her shift around behind him and when Sam could finally think straight—he looked back to see that she had fixed her clothes again and was standing there nervously. She looked mortified and she couldn't meet his eyes.

"Don't shut me out, Nala," he told her and Mercedes sucked in a deep breath.

"I'm so embarrassed," she replied, "I had no idea—_wow_." She let out a soft laugh.

"We're just going to have to work on controlling this," Sam said as he moved closer to her. "It's your fault for being so damn pretty."

Mercedes rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. "I'm sure it has nothing to do with the sexy blond guy kissing all up on a girl. How do you expect me to control myself?"

Sam grinned at her, before he grabbed her hand and tugged her along with him. They sat down on the bench together—Sam straddling the bench so he could face Mercedes completely. He opened his arms to her and Mercedes laughed.

"You are such a cuddle monster," she told him—even as she leaned against his chest. He shifted closer and then wrapped his arms around her waist. Sam heard her sigh as he lightly massaged her side.

"I don't hear you complaining," he responded.

"And you never will," Mercedes replied. He gave her an amused smile when she tilted her head back to glance up at him. "I'm telling my family about us tonight."

Sam wasn't quite able to stop the rush of terror he felt from appearing on his face. Mercedes burst out laughing.

"Sam, _your face_, oh god," she said with a snicker. He poked her in the side—causing her to squeak. She batted his hand away, but Sam stopped her with a kiss. Their lips moved together for a moment—and then two more—before he pulled away. She gave him a smile.

"Everything will be_ fine_, Sam," she said.

"Says _you_," he replied, "I know how _I'm_ going to react when Stacey starts dating and it's _not_ cute. I expect much of the same from your brothers and your father."

"At least you won't see them until Thursday night." Mercedes cracked with a laugh and Sam had to grin. "I have to handle the interrogation on my own!"

"They're going to have extra time to think up questions for me," Sam protested, "So I can guarantee that I'm going to have it worse."

Mercedes opened her mouth to say something else, but Sam's cell-phone let out a shrill sound—telling him that he had a text message. He fished it out of the pocket of his jeans and winced when he saw that it was from Finn.

**Dude, where r u?**

Sam was confused for a split second, before his eyes spotted the time. "Damn, we've been in here for over an hour!" Mercedes blinked at him.

"What? That can't be right!" she protested. Sam showed her the phone and she let out a sigh of dismay.

"Ugh," Sam huffed as he dropped his head on top of Mercedes'. "I was supposed to meet up with him almost twenty minutes ago."

"What for?" she asked as she lifted her hand to cup the side of Sam's face. He pressed a kiss into her palm before she shifted so her hand sat on the back of his neck. Her fingers trailing along his nape had Sam relaxing even more into their embrace.

"Play some basketball," he replied, "We talked about it this morning."

"Have you guys worked everything out?"

"If you're asking whether or not we've cried over tubs of ice cream and shared secrets," Sam joked—Mercedes tugged on his hair, making him chuckle, "Then yes—we have."

"_What?"_ she responded and Sam grinned.

"Finn asked Kurt how to make it up to me—and Kurt told Finn that pints of ice cream never failed. So he bought some and we ate it because we weren't going to let ice cream go to waste."

Mercedes laughed long and hard. Sam just watched her twitch around in amusement until she'd calmed down. It was a pretty hilarious situation to think about.

"I would love to stay and chat with you for longer," Sam said into her curls, "but I have to go. I'm already late."

Mercedes ran her fingers through his hair once more, before she straightened up and Sam let her go. He stood from his place on the bench as Mercedes walked over to the sink to grab her bag. When all of their things were gathered—Sam turned off the lights and stuck his head outside of the door to make sure the coast was clear.

Seeing that the hallway was empty, he ushered Mercedes out of the locker room, both of them giggling. Sam held her hand the whole way out of the school. He even walked her to her truck—the student parking lot almost completely empty.

"I guess we have to say our goodbyes here, huh?" Mercedes asked as she looked up at him.

"I'll call later tonight," he promised and she smiled.

"I'd like that," she replied when Sam stepped closer. Her brown eyes were sparkling and he could feel a grin forming on his face. Sam leaned down and kissed her.

He held her car door open for her after they'd separated and Sam waved as she drove away. His girlfriend was amazing. He felt his phone vibrate with another text, and he hustled over to his truck. He really needed to stop being late to things!

* * *

><p><strong>May 17, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate **

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:21PM**

Mercedes was a nervous wreck. She couldn't believe that she was about to announce to her whole family that she was dating Sam. It boggled her mind. Three months ago if someone had suggested that she'd even be _dating_—much less have a caring boyfriend—she would've directed them to the Lima County Psychiatric Ward, but now it was very real and her family was about to find out.

She sucked in a deep breath; letting the sound of her Whitney Houston CD flow through her room. Mercedes had been working up her courage since she got home. She'd been cycling through all the divas who inspired her—Aretha, Diana Ross, Jennifer Hudson, Beyonce, and now Whitney.

It was helping to keep her mind off of the quickly approaching dinner, but she would be grateful when Quinn got here. Mercedes' head snapped up when she heard the doorbell ring. With a quick grab of the remote control from the bed—Mercedes shut off her music and hustled out of her room.

She heard her little sister's loud squeal and then laughter before she'd made it downstairs. Mercedes had never been happier to see Quinn's blonde hair and bright smile before. She was standing next to a duffel bag and Annabelle was on her hip. Mercedes watched as the two traded kisses.

"Quinn!" she said—the relief had to be quite apparent in her tone because Quinn looked amused and Josh seemed confused.

"Hey Mercy," the blonde replied as she bounced Annabelle in her arms.

"Do you want to take your bag up to my room?" she asked and Quinn nodded. Mercedes watched as Quinn handed Annabelle off to Josh, before she picked up her bag from the ground and tossed it over her shoulder.

The two girls didn't say another word until they'd made it up to Mercedes' room. As soon as she shut the door behind them, Mercedes turned and said, "I am _freaking_ out."

Quinn laughed as she tossed her duffel onto the floor. She kicked off her shoes and then took a running leap onto Mercedes' bed. Mercedes had to laugh when Quinn started jumping around on the bed, before she finally fell to her knees and bounced to a stop.

"I always wanted to do that when I was pregnant," Quinn told her and Mercedes rolled her eyes as she walked over to the bed. Quinn reached out and pulled her onto her bed as soon as she was close enough. "I can tell you're freaked out, Mercy. Downstairs, you looked at me like I was the second coming of Jesus."

That startled a giggle out of Mercedes. Quinn laughed. "Do you really think they'll be okay with it?" Mercedes asked a moment or so later.

"I think they'll be protective," she replied, "but they'll be happy for you."

Mercedes was still worried, but they didn't have any more time to discuss it—her mother's voice rang through the intercom on her wall. "Mercy, Quinn, it's time for dinner."

The panic Mercedes momentarily felt rushed through her body and she stared wide-eyed at the wall. Quinn snapped her out of it by waving her hand in front of her face. "Come on, Mimi," Quinn said, "We'll get through this."

Mercedes grabbed Quinn's hand and let the blonde practically drag her downstairs. Before they entered the dining room—Mercedes drew in a deep breath to calm her nerves. Quinn gave her a reassuring smile as they walked side-by-side through the door.

Josh, Kyler, Derek, and Jason were already seated at the table and they were having a loud debate with her dad about some baseball game that had been on television that day. Quinn greeted her mom with a big hug. Mercedes took the time to lift Jasper from the ground where he was playing with some toy blocks and place him in his high chair.

"Love you, Mi!" he told her with the cutest smile ever. Mercedes' heart practically melted and she couldn't resist giving her baby brother a kiss. She ruffled his hair, before moving around the table and sitting down across from Quinn, but next to Trey.

Her mother sat down to the right of her father and clapped her hands. "Hush boys," she ordered, "It's time for Jesus."

Everyone shut up immediately; even Jasper stopped playing with his toddler-safe utensils. They said grace before every meal and her mother had made it clear that Jesus time at the table was not to be trifled with. Mercedes found the routine comforting. It was something Quinn had grown to enjoy.

As her father recited the prayer for the evening, Mercedes felt a wave of peace wash over her. For that moment—everything was alright.

"Amen," was chorused around the table when the prayer was finished and the chatter picked up almost instantly. Food was passed around the table; her brothers resuming their bickering match about the baseball game. The good thing was that her mom had all of them schooled. Even while talking—no one was rude, they never spoke with their mouths full, and they all waited their turn to speak.

It was hilarious to realize that her mom—as short as she was—had all four of those boys on lock.

She just hoped that her mom liked Sam enough to use that power to stop them from killing her boyfriend. Mercedes ate her dinner in relative silence—her mind running a million miles an hour trying to figure out the best way to break the news. None of them ended well so far.

She had just visualized a particularly bad one when she realized that it was silent. The Jones' family dinners were _never_ silent. She looked up from her plate and blanched when she realized that they were all staring at her.

"What?" she asked.

"I asked if you were alright," Kyler said with a frown, "You didn't answer me."

"Yeah, Mercury," Jason told her, "You were looking a bit ill."

Mercedes swung her eyes to Quinn, who gave her a tiny smile back and a nod. She didn't miss the sudden suspicious looks that were gazing between her and Quinn.

"Is there anything wrong, my love?" Her mother questioned and Mercedes could hear the worry in her tone. She knew she couldn't escape it now.

"No, Mama, I'm fine," Mercedes replied as she sat down her fork, "but there is something I want to tell you guys."

And despite her reassurance that she was fine, they were all looking concerned now. Man, she loved her family.

"Uh," she started, but she stopped when she felt her cheeks heat up. Kyler's eyebrows were high on his forehead and her dad was frowning slightly. Mercedes closed her eyes, told herself to suck it up and just say it. "I'm dating Sam."

Delia's eyes widened and there were five dropped jaws around the table. Quinn took a drink of water to hide a laugh.

"_Sam_? Sam Evans?" her mother questioned, "The blond teen who stayed over with his family a couple of weeks ago?"

Mercedes nodded and was taken aback when her mother practically bounced in her seat. "Oh, Mercy! He's a very handsome young man and so sweet t—"

"Ma! You're okay with this?" Josh protested and her mother shot him a look.

"And why wouldn't I be, Joshua?" she asked.

"Because he's a _boy_ and he's going to have his hands all over my little sister!"

"Oh, hell naw!" Derek stated in outrage.

"I'll kill him," Kyler added.

"How long have you been together?" Jason demanded.

"Almost a week now—officially," Mercedes replied.

"Has he felt you up, yet?"

"Ky!"

"Quinn, you dated him—was he a man-whore?"

"_Josh!"_

"He's my first boyfriend—I'm not going to go toss off my clothes and do the dirty with him after a week of dating."

"You better not do any shit like that until you've been together for a _thousand_ weeks."

"_Preach!"_

"Derek, language!"

"A thousand—try, _never_!" Jason looked on the verge of getting pissed.

"How are you going to talk Jason? Don't think I forgot about that skank you brought up in Mama's house," Josh said.

"Don't bring Candy into this—"

"Her name was _Candy_?" Kyler couldn't contain his laughter and Jason looked mortified.

"Damn, she sounds like a prostitute—"

"Was she a hooker?"

"What's all this talk about a hooker up in your mother's house?" Mercedes' father did not look amused.

"Airing a brother's dirty laundry at the dinner table, Josh—that just ain't right man." Derek stood up for his older brother. Jason just looked like he wanted to crawl under a rock and cry.

"How about I bring up Tequila?"

"Don't bring that into the conversation!"

"_Alcohol_, Josh? You—"

"No, ma, Tequila was a _girl_."

"She smelled like some cheap alcohol though."

"Don't you disrespect women in my house, Kyler!"

"Sorry, ma—"

"Anyways, has he kissed you yet?"

"_Kissing_? Hell naw, he better not have—they've been together for a week."

"If I remember correctly, you've done much more than kissing during the first week of all of your relationships!"

"_Difference_—I don't have a va-jay-jay."

"Are you guys _dating_ or has he asked you to be his girlfriend yet?"

"Hold up—they were in New York together."

"When did all of this go down?"

"Stop!" Mercedes finally yelled—her patience shot and her temper through the roof. "Sam and I have been together for less than a week. We've been 'dating' since Prom. We kissed the day before Jean Sylvester's funeral and it was _amazing_. Yes, I am his official girlfriend. No, he hasn't felt me up, but I can hardly wait until he does. He calls me beautiful and sweetheart and he accepts me exactly the way I am. And tomorrow night, he's taking me as his date to Stacey's recital. Good enough for you? If it's not, then you can all kiss my perfect black ass, because I'm not leaving him."

There was a moment of poignant silence, before rapturous applause broke out at the table. Mercedes gaped. Her expression of shock only grew more intense when Kyler dropped his hand on the table and said, "All y'all owe me ten bucks!"

"_Excuse me_?" Mercedes demanded—she was beyond indignant.

"Did you really think we hadn't seen _that_ love connection waiting to happen?" Derek replied as he grudgingly slapped a ten dollar bill in Kyler's outstretched hand.

"We knew that Sam was falling for you almost two minutes after we met him in person," Jason said as he followed Derek's action and handed over a ten. He took the liberty of smacking Kyler across the back of the head though. "Oh, Cede—I can't believe you told them about my Avatar obsession. And then you were both giggling and blushing and all flirty-like." His tone was teasing.

"It was _sickening_," Josh said as he threw his money at his twin.

"Hallelujah!" Kyler agreed as he gleefully waved his wad of cash in Mercedes' direction.

"You guys _bet_ on this?" Mercedes asked in disbelief. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw her father hand Kyler a ten.

"Of course, baby girl," he rumbled, "The moment I saw the two of you interact it was obvious."

Quinn was too busy dying of laughter to respond when Mercedes stared in her direction. When her mother reluctantly handed over a ten dollar bill, Quinn actually fell on the floor—guffawing.

"_Mama!"_ Mercedes cried—she was completely mortified. She had been worrying herself sick about this revelation and her family had already figured it out.

"What?" Delia responded, "Your fat-headed brother only won because he was right about you spilling the beans today. I had bet on tomorrow."

"Ma!" Kyler exclaimed when he heard her speak. Derek, Josh, and Jason were all hooting with laugher. Mercedes saw her dad try to hide an amused smile, but it didn't work too well.

Mercedes sat back in her chair with a huff as Quinn righted herself in her chair. The blonde's eyes were watering from laughing so hard.

"I love this family," Quinn said as she wiped her eyes, "_So much_."

"You all suck," Mercedes told them—her expression pouty.

"We could've been angry, you know," Josh said.

"No one said anything about the boyfriend getting off easy!" Kyler protested. "I still plan on putting the fear of God into him."

"You couldn't put the fear of God into a limp noodle," Josh retorted.

"And there we go with the hate!" Kyler replied. "First my older brother, then my ma, and now _my twin_. You need to stop ragging on a brother because he won the bet. I could take you down and to China town any day of the week."

"That's racist!" Jason threw in, "Why do you have to take him to China town?"

"_It rhymed_!"

"You're going to put down the entire Chinese culture for a rhyme?" Jason cracked, "Dishonor on you! Dishonor on your _cow_—"

"You would be the dude to quote Mulan at the table."

"That was legitimately one of the best Disney movies ever," Jason replied.

"Mulan was _crap_," Derek retorted, "A Bug's Life is where it's at."

"Get outta here with that declaration! Nobody even knows what that movie is."

"You know not of what you speak!" Josh commented in all his nerd-wisdom, "We all know that Monsters Inc is the_ shit_."

"Joshua!"

"Sorry ma—"

"False!" Quinn objected, "Lion King is the best Disney movie ever. All arguments are invalid."

"Damn Que," Josh said, "Just throwing out the trump card like that."

"Yeah," Kyler agreed, "You didn't even fight for the victory. You're just like _boomshakala_—ain't nobody about to own this but me."

"Why fight when I could just stop the conflict at the beginning?" Quinn responded—her eyes were shining with amusement.

"I would like to offer up Toy Story as a counterpoint," Mercedes said, "because that movie is legendary."

"Preach!" Derek said causing laughter to circle around the table. "She's got you there Quinn. Toy Story was _legit_."

"Woody does not defeat Mufasa!" Quinn protested.

The debate picked up from there—even her parents got involved—and dinner passed by in loud exclamations and laughter. When the meal ended, everyone took their plates into the kitchen and Mercedes stopped her mom.

"Are you sure that you're okay with me dating Sam?" Mercedes asked and her mother wrapped her in her arms.

"Sam is a wonderful young man," Delia said, "And what I saw between the two of you could be magical. I will be okay with Sam Evans until the day you tell me that he's not good for you."

"I love you, Mama," Mercedes said.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Mercedes walked back into her dining room with her mother and was immediately hugged by Quinn. "I told you it would be fine," she said.

Mercedes opened her mouth to respond, but she was distracted by her phone ringing. She glanced down at it and smiled brightly when she saw Sam's name flashing across the screen.

Josh walked by and immediately groaned. "Uh-oh, I know that look," he said, "The boyfriend is calling!"

Mercedes blushed furiously, but she answered the phone after glaring at her brother. "Hey Sam," she said—and her words caused a chorus of cat calls and teasing to start up.

Her face feeling like it was on fire because of the embarrassment. It just got worse when Sam started laughing. Mercedes left the room to talk with her boyfriend—no amount of humiliation would stop her from that.

* * *

><p><strong>May 17, 2011 (Wednesday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**11:07PM**

"Jeff, what do you think of this pattern?" Lynn called as she walked down the stairs—binder of fabric textiles in hand. She looked up when she didn't hear an answer.

Her brow furrowed when she realized that Jeff wasn't in his usual places this late at night. She put down her binder and walked around the bottom floor in an attempt to locate him. It was only when she stepped out into the backyard that she finally found him.

He was sitting underneath the big oak tree. Lynn made her way over to him.

"Hi darlin'," Lynn said and Jeff glanced over at her. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," he replied. Lynn sat down next to him and crossed her legs beneath her.

"Are you alright, Jeff?" she asked and Jeff let out a chuckle.

"That's something I've been asking myself all day," he confessed and Lynn couldn't stop herself from placing a hand on his arm.

"What do you mean?"

"It's a long story," Jeff replied and Lynn scooted closer to him.

"We live together, Jeffrey," Lynn said in amusement, "I've got nowhere else to be."

He shot her a smile and Lynn had never been happier that her levity went over well. He seemed to have needed the lightness of the moment. Lynn listened as Jeff explained all that he had been doing today. Her heart ached for the frustration she could hear in his voice. She didn't know how long he'd been talking, but he asked about her day and she couldn't stop herself from spilling.

They ended up laughing when Lynn admitted to falling on the floor because she was so overwhelmed. Lynn didn't know how it happened, but she ended up under Jeff's arm with her head on his chest. They were cuddling together and it was the most amazing thing Lynn had ever experienced.

When Jeff's fingers started running through her hair—Lynn couldn't resist burrowing into his side even more. His embrace was warm and loving and everything she thought it would be. He was leaning back against the tree and she was pressed against his side—their legs tangling together.

This was so wrong, but it had never felt more right.

"You are certainly more fun to talk to than your dog," Jeff told her in amusement and Lynn laughed into his chest.

"What does that mean?" she asked as she tilted her head back to look up at him.

"Marley and I had a heart to heart in the park," Jeff admitted and Lynn had to bite her lip to stop from laughing.

"I've found that my dog gives very good advice," Lynn teased, "Her barks give you a lot of insight."

Jeff laughed. "I was fonder of the doggy facepalm."

Lynn smiled and said, "She did the paws over the face?"

"Many times," Jeff said.

"That's one of her signature moves," Lynn told him, "Just wait until you say something and she plays dead. That's a real emotional booster, there."

They both shared a smile. Their gazes lingered together and Lynn felt her heartbeat speed up. She tore her eyes away before she could do something embarrassing like try to kiss him. Lynn and Jeff lost track of time as they laid there—just talking and joking about anything that came to mind.

It was one of the best nights of Lynn's life. She hoped that Jeffrey felt the same way.

* * *

><p>I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until next time!:D<p> 


	29. Make It So

**DISCLAIMER: On first chapter.**

**This chapter is LONG. LOL. And a lot of plot lines begin, but I'm excited! Happy reading! :D I'm gonna go pass out now. LOL.**

* * *

><p><strong>May 18, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate—Mercedes' Bedroom**

**Lima, Ohio**

**6:05AM**

Mercedes slammed her hand down on the beeping alarm clock and let out a groan of annoyance.

Waking up so early in the morning had always been the part that Mercedes hated about being a high school student, but she had a long day ahead of her and it was time to get a move on. It usually wasn't this hard to get out of bed, but she and Quinn had stayed up really late studying for their final exams and finishing up their final English essays.

They hadn't gone to bed until about two in the morning—the math study guide had been killer and the two of them had argued over the easiest ways to solve a few of the problems.

Mercedes still wondered what teacher would request a ten page analysis of Brave New World from a high school student, but that's what she got for taking the advanced class. She didn't even want to think about her workload the next year—she would be taking all AP classes.

Shaking off the brief consideration of just quitting school and being a bum, Mercedes sat up in bed and scrubbed a hand across her eyes. She finally realized that the lump in bed beside her hadn't so much as moved an inch since the alarm clock went off.

"Que, wake up," she said. There was no response from her blonde friend, so Mercedes leaned over and shook her shoulder. Quinn gave an incoherent protest and burrowed further into the blankets.

"_Que!"_ Mercedes said, "You need to wake up, girlie. We've got to get ready for school."

Quinn responded by pulling the blankets over her head. Mercedes had to smile because all she could see of her friend was a sleep-rumpled tuft of short blonde hair sticking out of Mercedes' comforter.

"Quinn, get up!" Mercedes told her with a poke of the girl's shoulder.

"G'way," Quinn groaned from under the covers.

"We have to be at school in an hour and a half and you take forever to get ready!" Mercedes replied, "So get up."

"How the fuck are you so _fuckin'_ cheerful this early in the fucking morning?" Quinn growled—she still didn't surface from beneath the blankets though. Her voice was muffled, but Mercedes could tell she was pissed—she just thought it was hilarious to hear her friend be so vulgar.

"_Ooh_," Mercedes mocked, "Quinn being profane—_I'm so scared_."

"Leave me alone, Mercy!" the blonde shouted from under the covers. Mercedes laughed when the girl rolled over onto her stomach and splayed out in the bed.

"Grumpy Quinn was one part of living with you that I _didn't _miss—though it is pretty funny."

"I'm ignoring you, and going back to sleep," Quinn replied. Mercedes shook her head.

"Quinn, _get up_!" Mercedes told her, "I'm serious."

There was silence and Mercedes felt her patience thin. "If you don't get up right now, I'm going to _make _you get up."

Quinn remained stubbornly silent and Mercedes rolled her eyes in exasperation. She crawled over to where Quinn was laying motionlessly on the bed.

"I'm warning you Quinn," she said, "Get up!"

When Quinn didn't say another word, Mercedes raised her hand and slapped Quinn hard on the ass. The loud yelp that the blonde emitted made Mercedes laugh, but she just raised her hand and smacked Quinn again as the girl scooted herself up on the bed—fighting to get from under the covers.

"_Mercy!"_ she yelled after the third slap on the butt.

"I told you!" Mercedes retorted as she smacked Quinn again. Quinn stopped fighting with the covers and desperately tried rolling away from Mercedes' swinging hand.

"Mercedes! Stop it—_**OW!**_ Holy shit!" Quinn screeched when Mercedes' hand smacked her again.

"Get up!" Mercedes said before letting out a loud war cry.

"I'm up—_oh my god_, stop it, you savage!" Quinn scrambled from beneath the covers, but Mercedes hand clipped her rear once more before she could completely get away.

Mercedes was practically tackled by Quinn—the blonde was hell-bent on revenge. They both went down onto the mattress with shrieks of laughter.

"Next time, you'll take your ass out of bed, won't you?" Mercedes stated breathlessly as they wrestled around on the bed.

"I can't believe you just _**spanked**_ me, Mimi!" Quinn said—her tone full of amusement, disbelief and indignation. "What am I—_five_?"

"You were acting like it," Mercedes cracked, before Quinn took a pillow and smacked her with it. Mercedes couldn't stop laughing over the whole situation—and soon, both girls were laid out on the bed in fits of giggles.

Still breathless from laughing so hard, Mercedes looked over at Quinn. "You ready for your doctor's appointment this afternoon?"

Quinn sucked in a deep breath. She was quiet for a moment before saying, "I'm never going to be ready, Mercy." She turned her head and their eyes met. Quinn was still terrified and Mercedes could do nothing but show her support and compassion.

"I just have to do it and hope I don't freak out while I'm at it," she admitted. Mercedes nodded and reached for Quinn's hand. Their fingers entwined briefly—and she gave a reassuring squeeze. "There's no lower feeling than knowing you're crazy—"

"Stop that!" Mercedes admonished. "You need help, Quinn—that doesn't make you crazy."

"No, but it does make me emotionally unstable—which is as good as crazy," Quinn replied. Mercedes, even though she wanted to, couldn't really refute that statement.

"I'll be right there with you the whole time, Que," she told her friend and Quinn nodded.

"I know, Mimi," Quinn replied. They let go of each others' hands just before Mercedes rolled off the bed—and practically dragged Quinn off the mattress too. She escorted the blonde to the bathroom, before making her way to her closet. It was going to be a long day.

There was school, the final Glee club meeting of the year, Quinn's doctor's appointment, and Stacey's recital. As she rifled through her clothes to find an outfit—Mercedes wondered when her calendar had gotten so full.

And she really hoped they had time to get coffee before school.

* * *

><p><strong>May 18, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**McKinley High School—Biology Classroom**

**Lima, Ohio**

**9:43AM**

Mercedes glanced over her study guide—making notes in the margins as the teacher reviewed the material once more before the exam tomorrow. She had finished hers almost three weeks ago—when Mr. Carson had first given them out. Despite having it pretty much memorized, Mercedes brought it to class every day and took more notes—just in case she missed something.

Sam was in this class with her, but he'd been assigned to a table two rows behind her and on the opposite side of the room. They weren't allowed to switch lab partners, so that's where he'd been all year long.

It kind of sucked, because now that they were together—she wished he was sitting by her. But she was also grateful because she could actually pay attention in class. Sam being next to her would be detrimental to her attention span.

Mercedes scanned the next question under the topic Mr. Carson was lecturing about and nodded at every point the teacher listed as he talked. It was all on her paper already. She couldn't prevent the satisfied smile from crossing her face when she realized that she had every part of his answer written down.

That smile slipped a bit though when he said something new about the next question though. Mercedes picked up her pencil and hurriedly scribbled down what he was saying. She listened closely to the rest of his explanation in case she'd left something else out.

She had the rest of it correct though, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Mercedes had just flipped to the next page of the study guide when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She jumped lightly—the feeling unexpected and she startled her lab partner, Chloe with the abrupt movement.

Giving her friend an apologetic smile and receiving an indifferent shrug in return—Mercedes fished her cell phone from the pocket of her sweater. She blinked when she saw _Txe'lan_ flash across her screen. She couldn't believe Sam was texting her during class! His icon was a picture of him from when they first went to Paradise Park together. His crooked smile was just as cute in photo form as it was in person.

She slid the unlock button across the screen with the pad of her finger and a smile crossed her face when she saw the background of her phone. It was a picture of her and Quinn from last night—Quinn was standing behind Mercedes with her head resting on Mercedes' shoulder and both of them were laughing.

She pushed the fond memories aside and opened the text from Sam.

_**Stop freakin' out, Nala.**_

Confused, Mercedes texted him back.

_**What are you talking about, Blondie?**_

She tried to refocus her attention on the teacher, but Sam replied really quickly.

_**You started scribbling really fast for a second there. And you didn't look happy about it.**_

Mercedes pursed her lips and typed out a reply, before setting her phone down. She needed to pay attention.

_**I missed an answer. Kinda like I might right now because someone is texting me!**_

Sam's reply was almost immediate though.

_**It was one answer, and probably not even a whole one**_.

After reading his response, Mercedes shot her boyfriend an exasperated glare over her shoulder. He gave her that cute smile in return and she turned around to calm the swarm of butterflies that had spread through her stomach at the sight. _Damn that boy and his attractiveness_. She texted him back rapidly.

_**You still lose points for not answering the question completely!**_

Sam's return text was short and to the point.

_**Cede, you have an A.**_

She replied,

_**...what does that have to do with anything?**_

She could practically picture Sam shaking his head in amusement as she read his response.

_**It means you don't have to worry about missing ½ a point.**_

Flustered, she typed out a reply and pressed send.

_**Sam, I can't just stop paying attention in class!**_

Sam took a minute or two to respond and Mercedes thought she'd finally won, but her phone vibrated again—not two seconds after she'd picked up her pencil.

_**You finished that study guide the day Carson gave it to us.**_

She didn't get a chance to respond before her phone buzzed with another new text message.

_**And you probably already have it memorized.**_

Slightly indignant—even though it was mostly true—Mercedes answered his text.

_**I do not!**_

Sam responded just as quickly.

_**What is question 19?**_

Without even thinking about it, Mercedes answered his question in her text and tacked on another at the end.

_**Which of the following is found within mitochondria? Why?**_

Sam's texted her back immediately.

_**You didn't even look at the paper to tell me that.**_

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment when she realized that it was true—she hadn't so much as glanced at her study guide that was splayed open on the desk. But she wasn't going to let him win that easily.

_**How do you know?**_

Sam responded.

_**I'm staring at you, beautiful.**_

Mercedes turned her head and glanced back at Sam again. He literally was staring at her—one of his blond eyebrows raised high on his forehead and an amused grin was on his face. His green eyes were sparkling with a little too much laughter for Mercedes to not blush. She moved her gaze back down to her phone, her face hot as she texted him back.

_**...**_

Sam replied immediately.

_**LOL.**_

Mercedes rolled her eyes as typed out her snarky response.

_**Liar! You didn't laugh at all!**_

It took a few seconds before Sam's reply lit up her screen. Mercedes couldn't restrain the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

_**You can't call me on that! That's like a texting party foul. No one actually laughs when they say LOL.**_

Feeling slightly flirty, Mercedes responded.

_**That statement is FALSE, Mr. Evans. I'll have you know that I've LOLed for real many times.**_

His reply was just as teasing. Mercedes felt her cheeks get warm for a different reason this time as she read his text.

_**Uh-huh. I call BS.**_

Mercedes answered in a joking manner.

_**I call BS on you calling BS!**_

When she read Sam's reply though, she blanched momentarily, before she felt her face heat up again. Yeah, he'd won that round of flirt-texting.

_**...I'd really like to kiss you right now.**_

Blushing furiously, Mercedes replied. She couldn't believe she was doing this in class!

_**That's playing dirty, Sammy.**_

Sam's text came not two seconds later.

_**I don't mind getting dirty.**_

_Holy crap_—she hadn't been expecting that. It was so wrong to be turned on in the middle of class. What if someone saw her, or if someone figured out what was going on? She eyed her lab partner before leaning away slightly. She responded quickly.

_**Sam! You need to stop!**_

Sam's response though was anything but serious.

_**When I get you alone...**_

Mercedes' face was on fire. The kind of naughty thoughts that were floating around in her head right now did not belong in an 11th grade Biology classroom. Sam was trying to kill her, she decided.

_**OMG, we're in class. Stop it!**_

Sam seemed to finally listen to her this time though, because his text was funny enough to make her have to choke down a laugh.

_**At least you're not in church this time.**_

Her shoulders still shook though, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing as she texted back.

_**LOL. Jesus would've protected my virtue.**_

Sam started their little flirting session up again though.

_**Does that mean it's fair game now?**_

Her jaw dropped and she responded immediately.

_**NO. Samuel Evans!**_

She couldn't believe that this was happening to her.

_**Come on Lady, you know me sending you suggestive texts gets you all excited.**_

Was she practically sexting Sam? This was quite the unexpected occurrence and she would never admit to actually liking what was going on right now—even if she knew she should be listening to her teacher.

_**...I admit nothing.**_

Sam's reply had her lips tingling and that tightening feeling in her stomach was back. She shifted nervously on her chair as she read his reply.

_**I would love to kiss your mouth, your neck—your skin is so soft, Nala.**_

What was a girl supposed to say to _that_? Thanks? What she actually replied didn't seem too coherent—it matched her thoughts exactly.

_**Well, then—umm, Sam.**_

And boyfriend totally went there. It was official—she was turned on in the middle of Biology class. This had to be some sort of cosmic joke gone bad. His reply made her blush.

_**You always smell so good.**_

She responded quickly—hoping he would stop, but at the same time—really hoping he wouldn't.

_**Sam!**_

Sam's text had her face on fire and her eyes nearly bugging out of her head in shock. She slapped a hand over her mouth as she gaped at her phone—the surge of arousal she felt took her by surprise as she read his text.

_**I love that little sound you make whenever you're really feelin' my kisses.**_

Chloe looked at her askance, but Mercedes waved off her concern. The diva reread his text—and decided to take a chance. She couldn't believe what she was about to do, but Blondie needed a good dose of his own medicine and Mercedes was pretty sure that she knew how to do it. She replied.

_**Alright, you want to play dirty—I can play as dirty as you'd like, Txe'lan.**_

She peered back at him over her shoulder when she didn't receive a response two minutes later.

She found Sam staring at her—his green eyes practically smoldering. Her body reacted immediately and she had to stop herself from gawking.

Mercedes spun around again—feeling a mix of surprise, desire, and _satisfaction_.

It was gratifying to know that she could turn Sam on—there was a power in it that she hadn't really been expecting to ever encounter or appreciate. She might have to investigate this a bit more.

When the bell rang—Sam had pretty much recovered from his sudden onset of lust, but Mercedes was ready for revenge. She wasted no time in slapping him on the arm when he walked past her table.

"That was for making fun of my nerd tendencies!" she told him, before she hit him again. "And that was for distracting me during class!"

"You done with the abuse?" Sam asked—his tone teasing.

"Not yet," she replied.

Mercedes chased a laughing Sam out of the classroom—determined to get in a few more licks just for good measure.

* * *

><p><strong>May 18, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**McKinley High School—Choir Room**

**Lima, Ohio**

**3:02PM**

Mercedes walked into the choir room—still laughing over the joke that Sam had just told her. As soon as she stepped across the threshold, Artie yelled, "I'm gonna be all up in yo' crib on Friday, Mercy!"

Mercedes blinked in surprise, but then she laughed when she saw the gangsta sign Artie was throwing. Finn tore himself away from his conversation with Rachel to smile at her.

"Yeah—my parents said Kurt and I could go too," Finn told her. Mercedes nodded with an excited grin. She glanced over at Sam—and she beamed when she saw the smile on his face. Sam touched her arm lightly, before he moved across the room to sit down by Mike—the two exchanging a fist bump and a grin.

"I gladly accept your invitation, Mercedes," Rachel said and Mercedes bit back a laugh when she saw the look Tina shot the girl.

"I'm there!" Tina stated as Mercedes walked over and sat down in the empty seat next to Quinn. "And Mike is coming too." Mercedes put her bag on the floor near her feet before smiling at her friends.

"I'll be there, but I have to leave at midnight," Lauren said, "Early bus to wrestling camp the next day."

"I still can't believe you're ditching me for a month," Puck complained—Lauren responded with a pissy look.

"It's four weeks—I'm sure you can survive that long."

"I can, but Puckosauraus is not sold on this idea."

With wide eyes, Mercedes decided to intervene before she learned a little bit too much about Puck and Lauren's relationship. "I'm just glad everyone can come!" she interrupted the couple's bickering, "Be there at eight tomorrow night. If you get lost—just call me."

Mercedes got affirmative nods from everyone else—except Mike who sent her a pair of thumbs up. She smiled at his goofiness, but didn't have time to say anything as Mr. Schue strode into the room.

"Alright guys," he said with a clap of his hands, "Our last meeting of the year! Can you believe how far we've come?"

It may have been a slightly bitter thought, but Mercedes was sure that they could've gone farther if Mr. Schue wasn't so stuck in his ways. He had pretty much everyone convinced that without Rachel or Finn—they'd lose and Mercedes didn't think that was fair for anyone.

"We got all the way to Nationals this year—and I'm positive that we'll get there again next year and win it all," Mr. Schue told them. "We're going to have to work harder this fall to get back to where we were, but we can do this!"

They never prepared on time for anything and sometimes Mercedes wished she could do more for the group. There was a reason she stopped asking for solos—who wouldn't after being shut down so many times? Mr. Schue was a nice man, but there were moments when Mercedes wondered if he knew what he was doing.

"Since this is our last meeting—I was hoping we could sing one more number and then we could all hit the road early," Mr. Schue said, "It's been a long year, but come back ready to start fresh in the fall."

With another wide grin and a clap of his hands, he asked, "Anybody have any song ideas?"

There was silence in the room as everyone glanced around at each other. It wasn't until Sam slowly raised his hand that everyone found something to focus on. Mr. Schue nodded at him.

"Does the song have to be—I don't know—relevant?" Sam asked and Mr. Schue laughed a bit.

"I guess not," he answered and Sam smiled.

"Well, I have one," he replied.

"Well, come on down Mr. Evans," Mr. Schue announced and a sweeping motion of his arms. Sam stood up and made his way down the risers until he touched the ground. He walked over to the wall and picked up his acoustic guitar.

Sam made his way back to the middle of the room. Mercedes watched as Mr. Schue clapped a hand on her boyfriend's shoulder. She wondered what song he was about to sing.

"What song do you have for us, Sam?"

"Summertime by New Kids on the Block," Sam responded and Mercedes could tell he was blushing when chuckles started floating around the room.

"Let's hear it, then!" Mr. Schue said before moving quickly to his seat.

"Artie, I'm going to need your help with this, man," Sam told his friend and Artie dutifully rolled his way over to Sam. Puck stood up and grabbed his guitar.

"I want in on this—boy band tunes always make the ladies hot," Puck said as he stood next to Sam. Mercedes watched Sam laugh at his friend, before he started strumming chords on his guitar.

Artie clapped to the beat and he started speaking when Sam nodded at him. "_**Lima Ohio 2011. Come on!**_"

Mercedes heard Brad start playing the piano and Sam's guitar playing picked up. Mercedes couldn't help but sway in her seat as he started singing, "_**Do you remember**__** o**__**r should I rewind to that summer when you caught my eye?**_"

Out of the corner of her eye, Mercedes saw Finn get out of his seat and move over to the drum set. Sam looked up in surprise when the percussion started and his singing got louder as he continued, "_**I played it cool. The weather was hot—you had the beauty and the beach on lock.**_"

Mike joined the boys on the floor and started dancing along with Artie, who added background vocals to the next verse as Sam sang, "_**With your flip flops, half shirt, short shorts, mini skirt-walkin' on the beach, so pretty! You wasn't lookin' for a man when you saw me in the sand,**__** b**__**ut you fell for the boy from the country." **_

"I _**was like, "hey, girl, can I get your number?"**__**I remember what you told me too, "Don't call after ten."**__**But you know that I did,'cause I couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you,"**_ Puck took this verse from Sam and totally rocked out. Mercedes was full out dancing by this point. She clapped her hands to the beat as the boys played.

Quinn, Tina, Brittany, Santana, Rachel, and Lauren joined her as she clapped. They all cheered when the boys sang the chorus together.

"_**I think about you in the summertime,**__** oh, oh! **__**And all the good times we had, baby. Been a few years and I can't deny,**__** oh, oh. **__**The thought of you still makes me crazy! I think about you in the summertime,**__** oh oh!**_" Mercedes was out of her seat by the time the chorus was almost done—the boys had done the cutest dance move together and she couldn't stop laughing.

Sam stepped out front and sang, "_**I'm sittin' here in the sun with you on my mind.**__**You're my, my summertime."**_ He was staring directly at her as she danced towards him—the other girls had joined her—adding in harmonies as the song continued.

Mercedes shook her hips and did a partial body roll right in front of Sam. She bit her lip when he stared her down—she backed away when he stepped towards her, dancing. His green eyes sparkled.

Sam and Mercedes danced around each other in a circle—her chest shimmying and her hips rocking as he sang, _**"Do you remember? I'll never forget—touchin' your body all soakin' wet. The water was cool. The feelin' was hot—kissin' on you while the ocean rocked.**_"

Sam swung his guitar onto his back and took the chance to grab her hand and spin her in a circle. Mercedes laughed as she twirled—Artie and Puck picking up the vocals, "_**In your strapless sundress—kickin' back, no stress. As long as we was together,**__**'cause we were feelin' young love.**__**And we couldn't get enough.**__**Baby, I could reminisce forever."  
><strong>_

Sam grabbed her other hand and danced with Mercedes—pulling her only a little closer than what could be taken as platonic. At the moment though, Mercedes didn't care—Sam's green eyes were bright and less than three feet from her and the smile on his face was mesmerizing. He spun her around again, before letting her go with a quick squeeze of her fingers.

Sam pulled his guitar back around front and literally jammed on his guitar in front of her as she moved her hips and shoulders to the beat. Quinn joined her and the two danced back to back, but Mercedes' eyes were on Sam the whole time, especially once he started singing again, "_**And now I'm like—Hey, girl, don't you know I miss it?**__**And I wonder if you miss it too. Never thought it would end 'till it did. Now, I'm here and I can't stop thinkin' 'bout you."**_

The song wasn't really relevant to their relationship, but Sam singing and playing guitar was fucking attractive and Mercedes didn't want it to end.

"_**I think about you in the summertime,**__** oh, oh! **__**And all the good times we had, baby. Been a few years and I can't deny,**__** oh, oh. **__**The thought of you still makes me crazy! I think about you in the summertime,**__** oh oh! **__**I'm sittin' here in the sun with you on my mind.**__**You're my, my summertime!"**_ Sam rocked out on his guitar, before he moved over to the guys.

They formed their line again—the girls singing harmonies as Sam waved for the musicians to stop playing. Acapella—they all sang, "_**Break it down—Summer ended,**__** w**__**inter started,**__**it got colder,**__** w**__**hen we parted ways (I like this part)**__**. **__**As the seasons change.**__**(Bring it forward, bring it back)**__**Winter melted. Spring I felt it. Summertime will never be the same,**__**(Without you, my summertime)—My summertime!"**_

Sam went really high on that last note and Mercedes couldn't stop smiling. The boys had done this whole boy band type dance—complete with turns and switching lines. They all did the Carlton in time with the clapping and it was the cutest thing Mercedes had ever seen.

The music picked up once again and this time—all of the guys sang the chorus, "_**I think about you in the summertime,**__** oh, oh! **__**And all the good times we had, baby. Been a few years and I can't deny,**__** oh, oh. **__**The thought of you still makes me crazy! I think about you in the summertime,**__** oh oh! **__**I'm sittin' here in the sun with you on my mind.**__**You're my, my summertime!" **_

The final note ended with several harmonies and a vocal run from Artie. Cheers and laughter went up around the room as they fell into a massive group hug—practically dog-piling Sam in the middle.

The rest of the hour digressed into taking tons of pictures with Mercedes' digital camera and just laughing over anything and everything. It reminded Mercedes of why she loved Glee so much, and she swore to herself that they would get their victory next year—even if she had to make it happen herself.

After many hugs and lots of goodbyes, the meeting finally ended—almost an hour earlier than usual. Sam took the liberty of walking Mercedes and Quinn out to Mercedes' car. Mercedes blushed when Sam lightly grasped her fingers as they walked side-by-side towards her BMW—her blush only deepened when she saw the knowing look on Quinn's face. Mercedes didn't let go of his hand though.

When they finally reached the truck, Mercedes unlocked the doors and Quinn immediately tossed her messenger bag into the backseat before climbing into the front passenger seat. Mercedes walked to the opposite side of the car—the driver's side facing away from the school. Sam followed her.

She turned around to put her bag in the backseat and was taken aback when Sam grabbed it from her and did it for her. She wasn't used to chivalry, and she had a feeling that Sam wasn't going to stop no matter what she said.

"I can do that on my own, you know," she told him—her hands on her hips.

"I know," Sam agreed, "but that doesn't mean I can't do it for you sometimes."

"I don't want a manservant," Mercedes retorted as she opened the door of the truck.

"You don't have one," Sam replied, "You just have a very willing—very Southern boyfriend."

"Uh-huh," she said as she gave Sam a look of fond exasperation. "You're not going to stop, are you?"

"Nope," Sam answered and Mercedes laughed lightly.

"I would date the only guy who remembers chivalry," she muttered as she turned to climb into the truck. Sam's hands on her shoulders stopped her though and he shifted her until she was facing him again.

"I was raised on chivalry," Sam told her, "So I guess you're just going to have to get used to it."

"It might take me awhile," she admitted—Sam smiled in response.

"I wouldn't expect anything else," he replied, before he leaned forward and captured her lips in a kiss. It was strange to realize how addicting kissing Sam was. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed his lips until now.

They hadn't had a second alone at all today—they were always around someone else and that didn't work well for people in a secret relationship. She wondered why they were still keeping it a secret, but it didn't feel right to tell everyone just yet.

But at some point, Mercedes knew that she wouldn't want to restrain herself from kissing Sam in front of their friends—and that time seemed to be rapidly approaching.

The kiss ended with another soft brush of the lips. Sam brushed a curl out of her face and ran his thumb across her cheek in a gentle caress. The movement was so sweet that it literally brought tears to her eyes—she had never thought she'd have this and the things she was feeling were even more intense than she'd expected.

It felt like a dream—a dream that she never wanted to wake up from.

Oh yeah, that time was coming quickly. The longer she was with Sam—the more she wanted the world to know that he was hers and no one else could claim him.

"Bye Sammy," she whispered—her hands clutching the front of his letterman jacket.

"I'll be at your house around seven tonight, Mercy-Mine," he replied just as softly before he pecked her on the lips once more and stepped closer to her body. Sam leaned past her to shoot Quinn a smile and the two shared a fist bump over the armrest.

"Bye Quinn," he told her before pulling out of the truck.

"Bye Sam!" she called back. Mercedes laughed as Sam tugged her close and placed another kiss on her lips. She brushed the hair out of his face and couldn't resist pulling him into another kiss.

"Go, before someone sees us!" she told him as she moved out of his grasp. Sam hugged her again and then relented. Sam waved, before he jogged down the line of cars to get to his truck.

Mercedes finally crawled into the vehicle and shut the door behind her. After fastening her seatbelt, she turned to see Quinn leaning forward on the arm rest—the smug smirk on her face said everything.

"Mercy-Mine?" she teased and Mercedes blushed. Quinn cracked up. "You've got it bad, Mimi!"

"Shut up!" Mercedes groaned as she started up the vehicle.

"I'm serious!" Quinn told her, "He's got it bad too. You guys are good for each other."

Hearing that from her soul-sister put a smile on Mercedes' face. She wasn't completely there yet, but she was almost ready to fully believe that Sam Evans had chosen her. It was a spectacular feeling. She was moved from her thoughts though by Quinn giggling.

"_Sammy_," she said—her tone full of teasing and amusement. Mercedes blushed furiously.

"It's his name," she protested and Quinn just made a fake noise of agreement.

"I know—it's just I thought that I was going to have to vacate the premises with the way the two of you were kissing all over each other," Quinn joked.

"Que, _stop_!" she said in embarrassment. _How many times was she going to blush today?_

Mercedes backed out of her parking spot as Quinn snickered into her hand.

"Not that I wouldn't watch, because sexy times with you and Sam would be hot as _hell_—"

"Quinn, if you don't shut it—"

"_Ooh_, you guys would make a beautiful human chocolate swirl—"

"_Quinn Fabray!"_

* * *

><p><strong>May 18, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**Cadence Clinic—Herald and Meyer Offices**

**Lima, Ohio**

**4:11PM**

Pulling into the parking space in front of the clinic had the atmosphere in Mercedes' truck changing swiftly from playful to terrifying. The smile on Quinn's face died a tragic death and she seemed to shrink into herself.

Mercedes was disturbed by the sudden change in her friend, but what could she do?

She silently turned off the engine and unbuckled her seatbelt. She looked over at Quinn and followed her eyes to the brick that lined the outside of the building.

"Que?" she asked softly—reaching out with her right hand to touch Quinn's arm. When her hand came into contact with her friend's bare arm—Mercedes could feel her trembling.

"I—I'm okay," Quinn said and Mercedes could tell that she was lying. Her hands shook as she unfastened her seatbelt. Mercedes watched her climb out of the truck before she opened her own door and stepped out of the vehicle.

Quinn was standing next to the hood of the BMW—she looked like she wanted to bolt in the other direction. Without anything else she could do, Mercedes took off her dark blue knit sweater and tugged it over Quinn's shoulders.

Quinn's green eyes stared at her—a fine sheen of tears and fear glossing her orbs.

"Put the jacket on, Que," Mercedes said—her voice was thick with uncertainty but she wasn't going to walk away now. They had come so far and Mercedes would be damned if she didn't stay strong for her soul-sister. "It's always cold in doctor's offices and I know you get cold easily."

Quinn put her arms through the sleeves of the sweater and her fingers immediately started twisting the fabric at the hem. Just looking at how distraught Quinn seemed to be had Mercedes near tears, but she couldn't break down now. Quinn needed her.

_There was time for crying later. _

She grabbed the blonde's hand and they walked up to the clinic doors together.

The inside was bright and welcoming—with yellow furniture, sunflowers, and huge windows. The receptionist at the desk gave her a smile and Mercedes nodded back as she walked Quinn over to the check-in counter.

"Hello girls," the receptionist greeted and Mercedes responded with a quick hello. "How can I help you today?"

Quinn didn't respond and Mercedes nudged her. She gasped a bit, before clearing her throat and saying, "Oh, I-I have an appointment with Dr. Herald."

The lady nodded and Mercedes watched as she did some clicking around on her keyboard. She glanced around the room—disconcerted to see that she and Quinn were the only ones in the waiting area.

_Maybe they just weren't busy today?_

"Do you have your health insurance card?" the receptionist asked. When Quinn just stared at her—not answering, Mercedes decided to take charge. She turned to her friend and touched her arm. Quinn looked at her with those scared green eyes and Mercedes had to bite down the lump that suddenly rose in her throat.

"Que, why don't you give me your wallet and I'll get everything worked out?" she said. Quinn handed the wallet over and Mercedes said, "You can sit down and I'll be there in a minute, okay?"

Without a word, the blonde walked over to the row of chairs against the wall and sat down. Mercedes breathed deeply—trying to calm her own emotions. Seeing Quinn like this was hard. She turned her attention back to the receptionist who was giving her a sympathetic look.

"Is she always like that?" the lady asked in a hushed voice—she looked incredibly concerned.

"Not at all," Mercedes replied—her heart heavy. The difference between the Quinn on the ride over here and the Quinn that was in the room right now was astronomical. "What do you need me to do?"

It took Mercedes about ten minutes to fill out all of the paperwork and get Quinn all checked in for her appointment. When she was done, the lady told her that the doctor should be ready for her soon.

Mercedes left the counter with a nod and made her way over to Quinn. "You're all ready to go," she said with false cheer as she sat down next to her friend. The two of them sat in silence—Mercedes not knowing what to say and Quinn was lost in a maelstrom of her own emotions.

When the nurse walked out of the back room and said, "Quinn Fabray?" Mercedes made to stand up, but Quinn's pale hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

She looked over to her friend and Mercedes thought her heart stopped for a moment. Quinn's expression looked ashen—the terror in her eyes unmistakable.

"Mercy—"Quinn choked on the sob that rose in her throat and Mercedes sat back down, "I-I can't do this."

Her breath was quickening and Mercedes saw her pupils dilate—and shit, _was Quinn having a panic attack? _

"Quinn, it's okay!" Mercedes said hurriedly as she grabbed onto Quinn's shaking hands. Quinn's breathing sped up—the tears falling from her eyes at a rapid pace as she shook her head.

"I-I can't do this," she gasped, "I want to go home—please take me home?"

Quinn was shaking violently and Mercedes couldn't get a good grip on her friend. She didn't know what to do—_what should she do?_ Mercedes slid off her chair and onto her knees.

She knelt before Quinn and tried to hide her own panic.

"Quinn_, breathe_!" she urged her friend, but Quinn's chest was heaving and she grew more pale by the second. Mercedes was desperately trying to calm her but Quinn wasn't listening—no matter what she said.

She turned around looking for something that could help. When she spotted the nurse staring at them—rage exploded in her chest and she shouted, "You're a fucking nurse! Don't just stand there. _Help me_!"

Mercedes looked back at Quinn when she heard the sound of a clipboard dropping onto the ground behind her. "Quinn, calm down! It's going to be okay," Mercedes said—her own heart pounding faster the more Quinn cried and hyperventilated.

"Quinn, look at me—_I'm right here_!"

She was so helpless. What could she do? WHY COULDN'T SHE FUCKING DO ANYTHING?

"Carol, get Dr. Herald," Mercedes heard the nurse yelling, before someone was suddenly on the ground next to her. "What's your name?"

"Mercedes—why are you asking _me _questions? _Help her_, damnit!"

"You're familiar to her—I'm going to need you to keep calm as well or we'll be dealing with two panic attacks," the nurse replied and Mercedes could see her point, but she was still pissed and she just wanted Quinn to stop looking like she was about to pass out on the floor.

"Fine, just _do something_!" she told the nurse in a harsh whisper. They were interrupted by the arrival of a tall man in a white coat and blue scrubs.

He knelt next to them on the ground and said, "Julia, I've got this. Can you help her friend calm herself?"

"_Excuse _me?" Mercedes demanded—who was this douche-bag that thought he was going to make her leave Quinn by herself right now? "I don't know who you are and I'm not leaving her—"

"Your emotions are amplifying the situation," Julia replied quietly, "Just let the doctor handle this."

Mercedes was reluctant and Julia could tell. "I promise that she's going to be alright, Mercedes." With one last look at her friend, Mercedes allowed Julia to help her off the floor and move her a few feet away.

"Quinn?" the doctor said—his voice was calm, soothing even—something stable in the midst of Quinn's loud gasps and crying. "I'm going to need you to listen to the sound of my voice."

"I-I can't—"

"Yes, you can," the doctor replied just as calmly as before. "I know you're scared and I know you don't know what to do. Just listen to my voice, okay?"

Quinn nodded rapidly.

"In your head—I want you to count with me. Don't think about anything other than the numbers I'm saying," he instructed. And Mercedes was amazed by his composure.

He started counting backwards from fifty and as each number passed—Quinn's breathing calmed little by little—her tears slowing. When he got to thirty-one, Quinn's voice—low and shaky—joined his.

When they reached zero, Quinn was talking normally and breathing calmly again. Her face was streaked with tears, and her skin far too pale—but she wasn't shaking anymore. The doctor waited until Quinn opened her bloodshot green eyes, before he said anything else.

"I'm Dr. Eric Herald," he said as he stretched out a hand to her. Quinn shook it hesitantly. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Fabray." He gave her a kind smile.

"Why did Dr. Sholtz leave?" Quinn asked. Mercedes stared between the two of them—wondering what was going on. Mercedes hadn't even thought about the fact that Quinn was seeing someone other than her usual doctor.

"He opened his own practice," Dr. Herald replied, "And your mother decided to shift your family's clientele to me because he moved out of state."

Quinn nodded and she looked over at Mercedes. The lump reappeared in Mercedes' throat and she rushed over to Quinn. The blonde hugged her tight and Mercedes had to fight to keep all of her emotions put away.

Julia handed Quinn some tissues when they let go of each other. "How about we go get you checked out?" the doctor offered and Quinn bit her lip. She nodded though.

The two of them followed Dr. Herald into the backroom—and then into a treatment room. He ran through all of the diagnostic checks and read through her file— Quinn finally asked for a referral to a psychiatrist.

They discussed the previous prescription she'd been given—and Dr. Herald told her that he wanted to get a new analysis done and that she should finish the medicine regiment she was on now, but they'd retest once it was gone and see if they could take her off some of the medications.

He happily gave her a referral to a psychiatrist that was about a forty minute drive away. Mercedes grilled him about everything he said—his treatment methods, his degree, his opinion of this psychiatrist. She wanted to make sure that Quinn was getting the best possible.

Mercedes could go her whole life without ever witnessing Quinn having another panic attack—and it still wouldn't be enough.

"I must admit, Miss Jones," the doctor said with a chuckle, "I've never been questioned so extensively before—my med school application was easier!"

Mercedes blushed when she realized how intense she was being, but she wasn't about to apologize for it. "I just want Quinn to have the best treatment possible," she replied, "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Not at all," Dr. Herald responded, "I'm always happy when my patients have friends and family that care enough to ask questions."

Mercedes just nodded at him—maybe she'd have to change her opinion on his douchebag status after all.

Mercedes asked about different ways to deal with panic attacks and both the doctor and Quinn looked taken aback. Dr. Herald recovered quickly though and had the nurse print off some information for her.

Quinn and Mercedes left with a ton of new information, another appointment scheduled for the end of the summer, and Quinn's assessment appointment with her psychiatrist scheduled for the next week.

When Mercedes pulled up in front of Quinn's house—the two shared a long and tight embrace.

"I love you, Mercy," Quinn said.

The burning behind Mercedes' eyes was intense. "I love you too, Que."

Mercedes watched Quinn go inside her house before she drove away and headed straight home.

* * *

><p><strong>May 18, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate—Entrance Hall**

**Lima, Ohio**

**5:32PM**

Mercedes stepped through the front door of her house—wondering how the hell she was going to pull herself together emotionally before Sam came to pick her up. She closed the door behind her and walked towards the stairs.

Unfortunately for Mercedes—her mother chose that moment to walk out of the downstairs playroom.

"Sweetheart!" Delia said with a smile, "How was school?"

Mercedes tried to fight it—she really did, but as soon as she looked into her mother's loving eyes—she couldn't keep the tears at bay anymore. Her expression must have completely crumbled because her mom was instantly alarmed.

Mercedes threw herself into her mother's embrace and Delia wrapped her up tight.

"Mercedes, _baby girl_," Delia said as Mercedes just cried into her mother's shoulder. "Come here—let's go sit down in the sitting room."

Mercedes let herself be led into the sitting room—still clinging to her mother. As soon as they sat down, the whole story came pouring out. She told her mom about Quinn and why she had been so off last year—she told her mother about the doctor's appointment and Quinn's panic attack.

"Mama, I've never felt so helpless before," she cried, "I don't know how to help her."

"Mercedes," Delia said as she framed Mercedes' face with her hands—her thumbs brushing away all the tears. "You don't need to do anything else than be there for her. You're doing a great job of encouraging her and just loving her—that's what she needs from you."

"But what if she has another panic attack?" Mercedes asked, "What if I'm the only one there and I can't do anything—"

"There will always be those questions, my love," Delia remarked, "But you just have to take each day as it comes—we can't predict the future, but _you _don't need to _fix_ Quinn. That's not your responsibility. _**Quinn**_ needs to help Quinn—she has to learn to love herself again and she's got a rocky road in front of her. The only responsibility you have is to be her friend and encourage her to keep moving forward even when the pain seems too much."

Mercedes sniffled—she was exhausted and her eyes felt heavy. She'd felt far too many emotions in one day.

She laid her head down on her mother's lap and just let herself relax as her mom ran her fingers through her curls. "Do you want me to call Sam and let him know that you're not feeling up to going tonight?" her mother asked softly.

"No," Mercedes replied, "I'm still going. I'd just like to take a really short nap before I go get ready. Is that okay?"

"Of course, sweetheart," her mom responded, "Just relax. I'll wake you up by six."

Mercedes was already drifting off. "Thanks mama," she mumbled before fell into a light slumber—it really had been a long day.

* * *

><p><strong>May 18, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate—Driveway **

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:02PM**

Sam fiddled with his tie as his dad turned into the driveway of the Jones Estate. He was so nervous, petrified, or was he anxious?—he didn't know, but he was dreading the moment her family saw him.

She'd told him that it was all good and that they were even happy about them dating, but there's a huge difference between _knowing_ that someone was dating your daughter and then _encountering_ the person dating your daughter.

He hadn't seen the Jones family since the weekend before Prom Week. He'd heard all about them while talking to Mercedes, but he hadn't been over to her house since his whole family had stayed the weekend.

And now they all knew that they were dating—_shit; maybe he should just go home?_

Sam glanced at Stacey and her excited face made that thought shrivel and die a quick death. She'd been looking forward to performing for him and Mercedes since she found out about the recital in April. He couldn't take that away from her—no matter how scared he was that he was about to die.

His dad turned off the ignition of the car and Stevie and Stacey practically crawled over each other to get out of the car.

"Guys, be careful!" Lynn called after them as she stepped out of the passenger side of the vehicle. His dad got out too, and Sam opened his door slowly.

He double-checked his reflection in the mirror to make sure that his white dress-shirt was wrinkle free and that his black dress pants looked okay. His dad clapped him on the back and Sam jumped away in terror.

Jeff chuckled as Sam's cheeks turned bright red. "It's going to be okay, son," Jeff reassured Sam as they walked up the steps to the large front door. Stevie and Stacey were standing on each side of Lynn—they had rung the doorbell already.

"That's easy for you to say," Sam whispered nervously, "I've never met a girl's dad _and_ brothers before. I don't think Quinn's mom counts in this situation."

Sam could tell that his dad tried really hard not to laugh at his plight when he squeezed his son's shoulder. Before Sam was ready, the door swung open and Jason stood there with a bright smile on his face.

"Jay!" Stacey cried as she leapt at him. He swung her into a hug before settling her back on the ground. Jason hugged Lynn and Stevie and his father, before his eyes focused on Sam.

"Hi Jason," he greeted the other boy. Sam's eyes widened when the smile fell off Jason's face.

"Come on in, Sam," he said calmly and Sam gulped, before walking past Jason as quickly as possible. As soon as he stepped into the entrance hall though, Mercedes' whole family stared directly at him.

Sam felt like his whole body blushed bright red as he stood there—shifting from foot to foot anxiously.

"Um, hi?" he stammered, trying and failing to hide his embarrassment.

Kyler glowered in his direction and Josh's eyebrows were furrowed deeply. Derek's arms were crossed and a stern frown was on his face. Sam felt like crawling under a rock and dying, but he closed his eyes and reminded himself that he _liked_ Mercedes—he had never found anyone so amazing and smart and beautiful in his whole life—and he wasn't about to let her family intimidate him into backing away from being with her.

Sam opened his eyes—feeling a tad more confident, but still terrified at his predicament.

Sam gave everyone a half-smile and he couldn't help but bite his lip when Derek let out a soft growl. Delia smacked him upside the head though.

"_Rude as hell_," she remarked—making Derek's expression turn contrite, "You don't growl at _any_ guest, young man."

"Yes ma," Derek replied. Delia nodded sharply, before turning to face Sam.

"Hello sweetheart," Delia said with a cheerful smile as she walked to him and wrapped him in a hug. Sam blushed, but he hugged her back. She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked him over. "Well don't you look handsome?" she asked and Sam found himself ducking his head in slight embarrassment. "Did you cut your hair?"

"Uh, yes ma'am," he answered, "Lynn did it for me."

"Well, it looks fantastic!" she replied, "No wonder Mercedes fell for you."

Sam was torn between beaming and wanting to sink into the floor. "She actually likes it?" he asked—Sam was sure that she did like it, but Mercedes had high standards and even though she didn't care what he looked like—he wanted to look his best for her.

Their conversation was halted when a heavy hand fell on Sam's left shoulder. With a gulp, Sam looked up into David Jones' eyes and couldn't figure out his expression—was he mad? Was he sad? _Was he ready to shove a shot gun down Sam's throat and blow him to oblivion?_

"Can we talk in private for a moment, Sam?" David asked and Sam was sure he completely blanched.

"Uh, yes sir," he replied—and Sam wanted to slap himself for letting his fear bleed into his voice. Sam glanced back down at Delia and cleared his throat lightly. "Excuse me, Mrs. Delia."

She gave him an encouraging nod, before stepping away. David let go of his shoulder and walked away. Sam followed him—his fingers drumming against his legs as he walked after the man. Sam just had to remind himself about how much Mercedes meant to him and how much he wanted to be with her as he stepped through the door of the man's office.

* * *

><p><strong>May 18, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate—David's Downstairs Study**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:09PM**

The click of the door shutting behind Sam sounded incredibly final in the silence of the office. He bit his lip anxiously as Mr. Jones sat down in an armchair and then motioned to the one next to him.

Sam sat down immediately. He was disconcerted when David just stared at him for about two minutes. Sam fiddled with his hands and picked at the imaginary lint on his pants legs. He was completely zoned out—which is why David's voice made him jump in his seat when the man finally spoke.

"I have three daughters, Sam," David said, "Mercedes, Quinn, and Annabelle—you dated Quinn for three months and then she cheated on you. And you've already had to turn down Annabelle's advances." David looked incredibly amused by the fact that Sam got hit on by a seven-year old.

Sam blushed, but David didn't give him a chance to respond. "So technically, you're on your third strike," David told him, "Quinn isn't my baby girl by blood, but she's been practically adopted into this family and I consider her one of my children. She broke your heart—and she was wrong for that, but I get the feeling that there was some significant hurt."

Sam looked away, but he answered David's unspoken question. "There was a lot of hurt after what Quinn did to me, Mr. Jones," he said, "I've talked to your daughter about it—long before we actually started dating; it was one of her main concerns about having feelings for me. Mercedes refused to be a rebound—and I respect her for that. I've also talked about this with Quinn. We discussed what happened between us and our hurt feelings were made known. I can't say that we're friends yet, but we're working our way to it."

David nodded and said, "Look, Sam, I like you. You're a good kid—and you've had to grow up faster than any child should. I can see that you understand the value of trust and love and I'm glad that you know these things—but I'm not happy about the way you had to learn it."

"You and me both, Mr. Jones—"

"Call me David, Sam," he replied and Sam nodded. Sam watched nervously as David leaned forward in his chair and said, "My only worry about you and Mercedes being together has to do with the _way _you learned the importance of relationships."

"I-I don't understand, sir—"

"Sam, your mother walked out on your family and _shit _on all your feelings," David said bluntly. Sam winced and looked away. He tried his best not to think about her and what she'd done to his family, but it seemed that he'd never be able to escape her mistakes.

"That kind of thing," David implored, "it can lead to _bitterness_. And bitterness is more potent and more dangerous than rage. And the way you and my baby girl feel about each other can lead to some kind of forever—and I don't want my daughter to be stuck in a forever with a man who's bitter about his own mother."

"Are you suggesting that I might hurt her one day?" Sam questioned—the very thought horrified him.

"Sam," David said, "Maybe I should tell you about my life—"

"David," Sam interrupted, "Mercedes told me."

That fact seemed to be a blow to Mr. Jones' composure. He sat back in his chair as if he'd been slapped. "That's not a story she's told anyone," David said slowly.

"I wanted to know_ her_—what made Mercedes who she is," Sam replied, "And you are big part of that."

"How do I know that you aren't going to hurt my daughter?"

"Sir," Sam said slowly, "I can't promise you that I won't hurt Mercedes. She is a very strong, _very opinionated_ woman—and I'm not used to a woman who'll verbally bitch slap me if I do her wrong, but please know—that I'm _never _going to try and hurt her. My mom—she's a bitch if I've ever known one, but her leaving was the reason I discovered how amazing your daughter is and that's something I could _never be bitter_ about."

Sam prayed that David could see how genuine and honest he was being. The two sat in a contemplative silence for about five minutes—Sam was sure that he had fucked up his chances of being with Mercedes. He was about to slap himself when David finally spoke up.

"I give you my blessing to date my daughter," David told him and Sam couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. "You're a great kid, Sam, but I have plenty of combat training and a whole storage locker filled with guns—so don't do anything stupid."

"You have my word, David."

* * *

><p><strong>May 18, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate—Entrance Hall**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:22PM**

When Sam walked out of David's office—a blinding smile stretched across his face; the hard expressions on the faces of Mercedes' brothers dropped. They all approached him with varying smiles and laughter.

"You hurt my sister and I'll _end_ you," Kyler threatened, before he pulled Sam's head into a headlock.

"Don't make me kill you," Josh said with a hard punch to Sam's shoulder.

"We're friends, Sam," Jason told him, "but I will shove my basketball up your ass if you fuck my sister over."

"You already know that I'll slap the taste out ya mouth if you do anything stupid," Derek said gruffly.

It just digressed from there. Loud jokes and hilarity ensued as they pretty much dog-piled Sam. He couldn't stop laughing as they talked. Somehow, Sam ended up leaning against the wall next to the stairs—hearing Josh give him the low-down on Dragon Age: Origins. It trailed into a discussion about playing a game of basketball some day.

He was distracted from the conversation when he heard the sound of heels tapping against the hardwood of the staircase. Brows furrowed in slight confusion, Sam glanced up towards the stairs and his breath caught in his throat.

Mercedes looked _stunning._

She was wearing a sleeveless white dress with a turtle neck—an empire waist created by a caramel brown belt with a bow in the center. She had a black cardigan on over the dress and she rocked a pair of sexy black heels that had straps criss-crossing the top of her foot and ending at her ankle.

Her hair tumbled over her shoulders in waves and her brown eyes were framed by her thick-rimmed black glasses. Of course, Sam being the nerd that he is—found the sexiest part of her outfit to be those glasses.

He couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Whoa," he breathed and Mercedes finally spotted him. Her eyes lit up and she smiled brightly as she quickly walked down the last few steps. Sam moved over to meet her. She stepped onto the ground and did a twirl before she grinned up at him.

"You like?" Mercedes asked—smoothing her hands down the sides of her dress and looking down at her outfit. She glanced back up at Sam.

"You look amazing," Sam told her honestly. Her brown eyes practically sparkled behind her lenses. "Is it new?"

"No," Mercedes replied, "I've had it for awhile, but I never had an occasion to really wear it. I figured tonight was a good time."

"Cede, you don't need an occasion to wear that dress," Sam said—and he grinned when she blushed in response. "You _look_—_**and those glasses**_—just—_wow_."

Mercedes laughed at the blush that rose on his face.

"Blondie," she said in amusement, "You've seen me wearing glasses before."

"Not when you were wearing a dress! I thought you were pretty before, but _dang_—girl, you gots my heart going _boom-boom-boom_," Sam sing-songed as he danced around her in a circle. Mercedes watched him with a look of fond incredulity, before laughing when he finally came to a stop beside her.

"Boy, you did not just sing a song from Zenon."

"Why not, babe? _You're my supernova girl_!" he told her as he tossed an arm over her shoulder.

Mercedes rolled her eyes in amusement. "Why are you such a nerd?"

"Says the girl who can quote DC comics like they're song lyrics," Sam retorted.

"Don't hate, Sam! It's not my fault you're fond of that _trash_ they call comics over at Marvel—"

"Hold up there, Cede—don't _disrespect_ the comics. Even if you are pretty, you can't get away with all that."

"Wanna bet?" she asked as she gave him a coy look. Sam stared at her—those dancing brown eyes peering up at him from behind her lashes—and yeah, he was blushing.

"Uh, maybe not."

Mercedes laughed—causing Sam to smile down at her.

"You do look beautiful, Cede," he told her and she blushed.

"Thanks Sam," she replied. They stared at each other for a moment, before their flirting was broken up by a loud cough.

Face red with embarrassment, Sam tore his eyes away from Mercedes. The room was filled with teasing smirks. He ignored the knowing looks as he grabbed Mercedes' hand in his—their fingers entwined and he led her out of the house.

As soon as they were outside, Sam pulled Mercedes into a kiss. Their lips moved together—their tongues brushing, before Sam pulled away slightly. They stared at each other before Mercedes pulled Sam into another kiss.

"Beautiful," he whispered against her mouth and Mercedes gave him a smile when they separated. The two stepped away from each other as the front door opened behind them, but Sam kept her hand in his as they headed to the car.

* * *

><p><strong>May 18, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**Cedar Crest Elementary-Auditorium**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:46PM**

"Um," Mercedes said in disbelief, "these kids have quite the hookup!"

She was amazed by how nice the elementary school auditorium was. It was on par with the one at McKinley, but a bit smaller. The entire place was really nice. Mercedes stared around the room—her hand still grasping Sam's as they walked down the middle aisle. Jeff, Lynn, and Stevie were in front of them.

"I know, right?" Sam replied, "I went to Stacey's dress rehearsal last night and I was surprised too. The acoustics are amazing."

"How was she?" Mercedes asked. She had heard a lot about Stacey's recital but she still had no idea what was actually going to happen.

"She's a diva in the making," Sam cracked—making Mercedes giggle. "She's really good actually. She's good at keeping notes and she actually sings on key. Sunshine just needs to learn the notes."

"Have you talked to her about joining a choir?" Mercedes asked curiously, "I know that my church has a fantastic children's choir and they get vocal lessons from their director—which I may not have mentioned before, but is now_ me_!"

Sam shot her a proud smile and kissed her on the cheek. "I didn't even know you were applying for the position," he said. Jeff found seats for five in the first row. He sat down with Stevie in between him and Lynn. Mercedes sat down next to Lynn and Sam next to her.

Sam tossed an arm over the back of her chair and Mercedes leaned into him as she started speaking again, "Well, I wasn't really considering it, but my choir director emailed me just before you came here and asked if I would be interested. I start in two weeks."

"I'm sure you'll do an amazing job," Sam replied, "You're certainly qualified with your background in competitive music."

"I hope so," Mercedes said, "I don't want to let anyone down."

The two of them talked softly about songs that she was considering doing for the recitals, but they got quiet when the lights dimmed in the room and the curtain rose. It was a night full of surprisingly good and shockingly bad performances, but they were all incredibly cute.

Stacey's rendition of "Walking on Sunshine" was the highlight of the show. Her bright yellow dress, bouncing curls, and cutesy dance moves added to the energy of her performance—but her voice was spot on and she just owned the stage.

She got a standing ovation—the five of them being the loudest in the room. The smile on Stacey's face was blinding as she did a curtsy and ran offstage.

"Yeah," Mercedes whispered to Sam as the next act came on, "She's definitely a diva in the making."

* * *

><p><strong>May 18, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**Zuca's Creamery**

**Lima, Ohio**

**9:48PM**

The group of six poured into the ice cream shop. Stacey was still glowing from her performance and Lynn decided to treat everyone to ice cream for such a job well done. Stacey talked Mercedes' ears off about the rehearsals and picking her dress and performing.

Sam just smiled when his girlfriend listened intently to everything his sister was spouting. They ended up staying in the store for almost an hour, before Stevie started yawning. Jeff decided that it was time to get the munchkins to bed—they did have school tomorrow after all.

Mercedes pointed out some of her favorite stores to Sam on the drive home—talking about how they had great sales but good quality at the same time. That was one of the main reasons—Sam hadn't noticed the way they were heading.

When he recognized the familiar surroundings he didn't say anything. They all stepped out of the car when Jeff pulled up in front of Lynn's house. Mercedes gave hugs to Stevie, Stacey, and Lynn while Sam was pulled aside by his dad.

"What's going on?" Sam asked and Jeff gave him a stern look.

"It's a school night, muffin head," his dad told him, "You've got a full day of exams tomorrow, so be back to this house by midnight."

"I don't get it," Sam replied. His dad put the car keys in his hand.

"It means that I'm giving you an hour to be alone with your girlfriend," his father responded, "It's not much, but I know this week has been hectic for you and I figured you'd want to see her."

Sam smiled and hugged his father. "Thanks dad."

"You're welcome, son," Jeff replied, "_**Midnight**_!" He reminded Sam once more before he walked away. Sam gave his siblings both a hug and a kiss, before sweeping Lynn into a bear hug. She laughed at his antics before heading inside.

Mercedes looked at him in confusion and Sam escorted her back to the car. "We have less than an hour," he told her and Mercedes beamed.

* * *

><p><strong>May 18, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**Paradise Park**

**Lima, Ohio**

**10:51PM**

Sam and Mercedes were relaxing in the backseat of the car—all the windows in the car were rolled down. Mercedes was laying in between Sam's legs—her back against his chest and his arms around her waist.

"Are you ready for exam day tomorrow?" she asked and Sam let out a snort.

"I never feel ready for exams," Sam replied, "but I've never studied this much in my life. I think you're rubbing off on me."

"Do you expect me to be sorry about that?" Mercedes joked and Sam chuckled.

"Nope," he answered.

"Good, because it won't ever happen," she told him. "I might look over my notes again when I get home—"

"Why don't you sleep instead?" Sam said, "You work too hard."

"I barely work at all," Mercedes replied, "I'm getting a job for next year—and with Glee club, yearbook, and now choir director—"

"Plus all your AP classes—"

"Yeah, senior year is going to be awesome!" Mercedes said and Sam laughed.

"You're the only person I know who is excited about getting more work," Sam told her.

"I just like feeling productive—," Mercedes protested, but Sam shut her up with a kiss.

"I like it," he said once their lips separated. "It makes you, well,_ you_."

"I'm glad you can appreciate my inner nerd," Mercedes replied with a smile.

"I_ really_ appreciate your inner nerd," Sam said, "But I'd also like to ask you if you'd go out with me on another official date next Friday night?"

Mercedes' brown eyes sparkled in the moonlight shining through the open window. "I'd love to," she replied.

They spent the next twenty minutes just holding one another and trading soft kisses every now and then. Sam drove Mercedes home and walked her to her door.

It was bittersweet wishing her goodnight, because he hated to see her go, but there was the slumber party to look forward to the next evening.

* * *

><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! :D Until next time! And spoiler for next chapter: There will be Kurtcedes. :) <strong>


	30. A Doormat No More

**DISCLAIMER: On First Chapter.**

**I know you guys are missing the JLynn, but they'll be in the next chapter. :D I promise! **

* * *

><p><strong>May 19, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**11:57AM**

Mercedes thought her brain was going to melt inside her skull. She'd taken four of her seven exams so far and she was sure that she was going to pass out from academic exhaustion. On every test, she worked up until the last second they'd been given—and Mercedes had practically convinced herself that she had failed every one of them.

She was standing in the doorway of her classroom—reviewing her notes for her next test as she started walking down the hallway. She glanced up at the people she passed from time to time, and they all looked either ready to cry or say fuck it and leave.

Mercedes was a _dangerous_ mix of both.

She had calculus, history, and English left. They were her three hardest exams—and she had never felt less prepared. She scanned the notes for her calculus test as she reached her locker, but before she could try to open it—her papers were taken out of her hand.

"_Hey!"_ she exclaimed as she tried to grab the papers back. She turned to see who had stolen them and wasn't surprised to see her boyfriend standing there with a shifty look in his eyes.

"Sam, _what are you doing_?"

"Saving you from self-destruction," he replied.

"I'm a _girl,"_ Mercedes said in annoyance, "not an explosive, but if you don't hand over those notes—I'm going to give you the worst cuss out you've ever heard."

"_Touchy_, aren't we?" Sam remarked—and Mercedes shot him the stink-eye. "This is exactly why you need to take your mind off studying."

"I have a calculus exam in an _hour_, Blondie," she sassed back. Mercedes was_ not_ amused. She was going to fail this test and it was all going to be Sam's fault. "I need to study!"

"You've been studying practically every day for the past month, Cede," Sam told her, "And you know this stuff. I know that you understand everything in these notes."

"Sam—"

"_Mercedes,"_ Sam mocked and Mercedes stomped her foot before turning on her heel and storming away. She was on the verge of a total meltdown. Her eyes were burning with tears and her head was hurting—and she let out a squeak of fear when she was abruptly tugged into the empty auditorium by Sam.

"Samuel Evans!" Mercedes cried as the door shut behind her. She was _pissed._ "What the hell do you think you're—"Her words were cut off by Sam attaching his mouth to hers. For a moment, she considered pushing him off because this was still wasting precious time to study, but Sam's tongue traced her bottom lip and she opened her mouth to him with a soft moan.

He pulled her closer by the hips and Mercedes' hands ran up his neck until they tangled in the hair at the back of his head as he deepened the kiss. Making out had totally become her favorite pastime—Sam's lips were a _godsend_.

How she had lasted this long without doing this; she didn't know—she would never be able to _**not**_ kiss Sam.

Sam kissed her until she was breathless.

And when they broke apart for air—Sam kissed down the side of her neck; his lips tickled her skin and it made her giggle. "Are you still mad at me?" Sam asked, his lips brushing against her ear. Mercedes laughed softly.

"I forgive you for pulling me into the auditorium," she told him, "but you're still in trouble for taking my notes."

"I'm not giving them back to you," he replied and she glared. Sam just kissed her frown away with soft brushes of his lips against hers. "And I'm not apologizing."

"Sam, I'm gonna _fail_—"

"No, you're not, babe," Sam retorted, "You just need to relax and take your mind off this. You've been working like a crazy woman all morning—some down time is good for you."

Mercedes sighed. Sam obviously wasn't going to let this go. "Are you sure that I'm ready?"

"I've never met anyone more prepared," Sam said honestly. Mercedes kissed him again.

"Fine," she relented, "What do you want to do for—"Mercedes took a moment to grab Sam's wrist and look at his watch, "—the next fifty minutes?"

"Everyone in Glee is meeting outside for lunch in five minutes," he replied with a smile. Mercedes nodded and made to walk out of the auditorium, but Sam stopped her.

"What?"

"I said_ five_ minutes," Sam told her, "that means I get two minutes to kiss my girlfriend breathless again."

Mercedes blushed, but she didn't argue with his logic.

* * *

><p><strong>May 19, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**12:16PM**

Mercedes showed up next to the group sitting in the middle of a shaded patch of grass with Sam a few feet away from her. She had to laugh when she saw that Finn was literally stretched out on the ground. Sam hustled over and dropped down on the ground to sprawl out next to Finn.

"My brain hurts," Finn complained. Mercedes smiled as she sat down next to Quinn. Santana's head was in Brittany's lap and Brittany was running her fingers through her hair.

"I'm surprised your brain functions enough for you to feel anything," Santana cracked, "Much less pain."

"_Rude as hell_," Mercedes said sharply. Santana looked up at her from Brittany's lap and Mercedes quirked her eyebrow. "Yeah, I just called you out."

"Wheezy, I thought we were friends!"

"We are friends, _Santana_, but you seemed to have dropped your human form and summoned _Satan_ back to the surface—I will never be friends with that," Mercedes told her—and Santana seemed surprised by how confident Mercedes was being. She just harrumphed, before turning her face back down and letting Brittany stroke her head.

Puck's loud groan of agony as he flopped face first onto the ground distracted them from the strange power shift that had just gone down. "I'm quitting," he exclaimed, "You're just going to have to learn how to love a dropout, Zizes." Once he finished speaking, Puck face-planted in the grass—successfully making the whole group laugh.

"You're not dropping out, Puckerman," Lauren responded as she laid down in the grass as well—her head next to Puck's. "If I have to suffer, you will too."

"I don't see why you guys are so stressed out," Brittany said, "I just guessed."

The judgmental looks everyone shot her went over her head, but Santana glowered—daring them to say something. By now though, all of them had learned to leave it alone. Brittany was _Brittany _and she wasn't ever going to change.

"This is cruel and unusual punishment," Artie remarked—taking a moment to flop in his chair. Tina patted his hand in sympathy.

"It's better than an entire week of exams!" Mike replied, "At least it's only one day of torture and then it's all over."

"I'm not sure I'll make it that far," Finn protested. "I just want to run away screaming at this point."

"Just think about the awesome time you're going to have at Mercy's house tonight," Quinn suggested and Sam waved a hand in the air as if agreeing.

"Speaking of," Kurt piped in, "Can I invite Blaine to this shindig? I haven't seen him since last Saturday and you guys seemed to get along well when you first met."

Mercedes wouldn't deny that she was a bit hurt. When was the last time she had hung out with Kurt? He didn't seem to remember that one, but Blaine—going a week without seeing Blaine was just unacceptable. She bit back the negative response that she wanted to respond with.

"That's fine," she replied—a bitter taste lingered in her mouth, but she'd smile like she always did and shoulder onward. Kurt beamed—as if Blaine being there would make this evening worth going. She tore her eyes away from him; there was no need to upset herself with the lack of friendship on his part.

Mercedes met Sam's slightly worried eyes and she gave him an almost imperceptible shake of the head. He nodded at her, but she knew he'd ask about it later.

"What exactly will we be doing?" Rachel questioned as she rested her chin on Finn's stomach.

"You'll see when you get there," Mercedes responded, "The options are_ limitless_."

Quinn bit back a smile and Sam coughed loudly. Everyone looked at the three of them suspiciously, but no one asked any more questions as they began eating their food and just trying to recover from all that had gone down that morning.

Somehow—funny you-tube videos came up and all of them ended up crowding around Mike's laptop and watching stupid clips. The Beyonce clown had everyone in stitches. The atmosphere had lightened significantly, but when the bell rang—all of them groaned.

It made them laugh because everyone had made a similar sound, but they trudged off to their next exams dejectedly. Sam parted ways with Mercedes after a soft brush of the fingers and a whisper of good luck.

* * *

><p><strong>May 19, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**McKinley High School**

**Lima, Ohio**

**2: 54PM**

Sam had turned in his textbooks. His regular student locker was cleaned out and all of his tests were finished. His junior year was over and he would be lying if he said that he didn't sprint out of the doors of McKinley and yell in a joyous manner.

Sam stood on the steps of the school and raised both arms slowly by his side. He punched a fist into the air and shouted, "Freedom!" He was surprised when he heard Mercedes' laughter from behind him.

Sam turned to face her—the smile on his face growing so wide that it hurt. "Cede!" he said as she walked to his side.

"You are crazy, Blondie."

"It's the last day of school, finals are over, and I've got awesome plans for the night!" Sam replied, "What could possibly make my day better?"

"Well, you could always come over to my house and help set up for the party," Mercedes offered and Sam shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

"No can do, Cede," he told her as he slung an arm over her shoulders. "I'm hitting the gym with Puck, Mike, Finn and Artie at four today."

She stared at him—the expression on her face incredulous. "You're going to the gym for _fun_?"

"Working out is a good time," Sam replied, "And plus, I've gotta look sexy for my lady." Sam flexed the bicep of his free arm and grinned when Mercedes stared for a moment, before rolling her eyes.

Sam poked her in the side and Mercedes laughed as she wiggled away from him. He reached out for her again, but stopped when he spotted Quinn walking towards them. "Hey Mercy," she said in greeting as she wrapped his girlfriend in a tight hug and planted a kiss on her cheek.

Sam was jealous for a moment, but he shook it off—knowing that she'd let him kiss her in public soon enough. He gave them both a smile and walked in between them. Sam tossed an arm over both of their shoulders as they walked down the stairs.

"I have to take off," he said, "I need to change into my workout clothes and then head over to the gym. I'll see you ladies tonight at the party."

Sam got twin kisses on the cheeks from both girls causing him to blush a bright red. It was really bad that he almost turned his head and kissed Mercedes right then and there. Sam knew she would kill him if he did, because that would bust their secret relationship wide open.

He let them go and waved goodbye before he walked briskly to his truck. He would have to work off a lot of excess energy today—so hopefully he could control his desire to kiss Mercedes tonight.

* * *

><p><strong>May 19, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**Jones Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**3: 22PM**

Mercedes and Quinn walked into the Jones Estate, laughing. "Que, you are so wrong for that!" Mercedes told her friend as they walked towards the stairs—Quinn was holding her duffel bag and messenger bag in her hands.

"He looked like someone stole his cookies when he couldn't kiss you!" Quinn protested. "You need to let go of this whole secret relationship thing."

"I'm not ready for everyone in Glee to bring themselves into my relationship with Sam," Mercedes retorted as they started up the stairs. "We're having a good time together without all the drama of people sticking their noses where they don't belong."

Quinn shot her a look. "It's true that they'll probably be interested, but they respect you, Mercy. And they're not going to disregard that to mess with your relationship."

"People in Glee _respect_ me?" Mercedes asked in disbelief as they stepped off the landing and walked down the hallway. "_Since when_? And why wasn't I notified?"

"They do," Quinn replied—her voice much less certain than before. "They just have a strange way of showing it."

"Yeah—they don't show it at all," Mercedes cracked as she opened the door to her bedroom. "Do you want to keep your stuff in your room or mine?"

"I'll just keep it in yours for now," Quinn responded, "We won't be in the bedrooms tonight anyways."

"For some reason—I doubt that statement," Mercedes said, "No one chooses to sleep on a couch when I have a huge bed like this upstairs."

"Well—you might want to take down all these pictures of you and Sam that you finally framed and put up," Quinn replied as she dropped her duffel on the floor. Mercedes glanced around her room and blushed.

She had finally gotten around to printing off all the pictures from their New York trip and she had taken great pleasure in framing all of them and putting them up all over her room. Quinn lifted the biggest framed picture from her bedside table and waved it in Mercedes' direction.

"This picture of you and Sam practically kissing might be a dead giveaway," Quinn joked and Mercedes rolled her eyes as she dropped her backpack on her desk chair. She unzipped it and pulled out her binders and notebooks.

"I'll put them away," Mercedes said as she unloaded her things and walked over to her bookshelf. "I can't believe how much summer homework they give out for AP students!"

"You're the crazy who's taking all advanced placement courses," Quinn replied as she started taking frames off the wall and stacking them on the bed. "Do you have a box I can put all of these in?"

"Uh," Mercedes said as she flipped through her folder for AP World History—the assignments were long and detailed and she was sure she would die this summer. She had seven classes like this and the summer homework was intense. "There's this big patterned box on the top shelf in my closet—all the way in the back by my winter dresses. It should be large enough to fit all of them."

"Alright," Quinn said before moving across the room and entering the overly-large walk-in closet.

"And I'm not crazy!" Mercedes yelled after her. Quinn's laugh echoed from the closet, before she came back out carrying the big box.

"You're the only person I know that's going to be taking all AP courses," Quinn replied, "They're too much work."

Mercedes sighed and finished putting all her school stuff on the bookshelf. She and Quinn moved around her room—taking down all the incriminating pictures of her and Sam.

"I want to do a lot of things with my life, Que," she said, "And I'm not sure exactly what that is."

"I thought you wanted to go into a field of science?" Quinn asked as she put about five more pictures in the box. "You said you were interested in forensics."

"I am, but now I'm leaning more towards biology and maybe even studying fashion," Mercedes replied, "I still want to do something with music, too."

"Is there a university that offers all three?" Quinn questioned as Mercedes put the last of the pictures into the box. It was practically full—and Mercedes didn't think her room felt right without her pictures of her and Sam. It was strange to think that he had become such a constant presence in her life that it felt wrong to hide him away.

"I haven't thought too hard about that," Mercedes admitted, "I know my mom is going to start talking to me about them this summer. Do you have any idea about what you want to study?"

Quinn laughed—the sound a bit derisive. "I never truly thought I'd be going to college," she told her, "After everything that's happened—I don't feel like I deserve it."

"Quinn," Mercedes said as she closed the lid of the box and hefted it off the bed. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"I don't want to get ahead of myself, Mercy," Quinn replied, "I need to think about _now_—and how I can get better before I lose myself in dreams of the future."

Mercedes motioned with her head to follow her as she walked back into the closet. "I understand that, Que—you getting better should be your top priority," she said as she and Quinn lifted the box up onto the shelf again and pushed it back into the corner, "but you should also have dreams—they make getting better seem worth it."

"I don't even know, Mercy," Quinn responded.

"All I'm asking is that you _think_ about it," Mercedes stated—making sure that her eyes met Quinn's gaze. It was quiet for a moment, before Quinn nodded.

"I'll think about it," she answered and Mercedes pulled Quinn into a hug.

"Let's go get this place ready for a party!" she said when she stepped back from her soul-sister. Quinn brightened and they skipped out of the room together. Quinn pushed Mercedes in the shoulder once they walked out of her door and then took off running down the hallway.

"Quinn!" Mercedes shouted before chasing after her friend. They ran down the stairs—Quinn giggling and Mercedes cursing her playfully. Quinn jumped the last two steps of the staircase and Mercedes watched when she turned to run, but crashed face-first into Mercedes' father's chest.

Mercedes burst out laughing as Quinn blushed a bright red. David just chuckled, before Quinn threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. He lifted her off the ground when he returned her embrace.

"What are you two little ladies up to?" he asked, setting Quinn back on the floor.

"Cleaning up and cooking for the party," Mercedes answered as she moved to hug her dad. "We've got so much to do in so little time!"

"I'm still not sure about this group sleepover thing," David replied.

"You were fine with it when I asked!"

"That's because I momentarily forgot that the boyfriend was included in this deal," he said and Mercedes blushed.

"Daddy!" she protested—Quinn started laughing.

"I agree," The blonde said, "They are quite _interested_ in each other."

Mercedes smacked Quinn on the arm and she laughed. "Quinn!"

"Alright, alright," David said, "I'll let you two get back to work. But I'm keeping a stern eye on Blondie."

"I don't think you have to worry, Papa Jones," Quinn told him, "Mercy still hasn't told the others in Glee about her and Sam dating—so they can't do anything coupley without looking suspicious."

"Yeah," David replied—his tone still skeptical. "I'm still keeping an eye out."

David walked away after kissing both girls' foreheads. The two shared an amused look before they took off for the kitchen. As soon as they walked in they found Josh sitting a huge cardboard box on the floor. He glanced up and smiled. "You and your party supplies, Mercy!" he complained, "Ma has us carting enough food to feed an army out of her car."

"Is there anymore?" Mercedes asked.

"No—this is the last box," Josh replied. He motioned to the dining room as he stood up. Both of the girls glanced into the room—surprised to see all of the boxes all over the counter.

"Where's everyone else then?" she questioned.

"Jason, Derek, Kyler and I are heading to a friend's house tonight," Josh replied, before he moved over to hug both girls. "We thought about staying in and crashing your end of school celebration, but we thought it would be better if we didn't incite the wrath of the little sisters."

Quinn laughed—squeezing him tighter, before she let go. "Good life choice," she said, "There's going to be enough reactions from everyone who hasn't seen her house."

"Yeah, those moments are always hilarious," Josh replied as he stepped away from them. "I'll see you girls later! Have fun tonight, but not too much fun."

"Bye Josh!" Mercedes called as he jogged out of the door.

"Bye!" Quinn said. Delia walked inside right after the Josh walked out.

"Hello girls," she said as she placed her purse down on the marble countertop.

"Hi mama," Mercedes greeted before walking over and giving her mother a kiss.

"Hello sweetheart," she said. "Hi Quinn."

"Hi Mama Jones," Quinn said as she received a hug and a kiss from Delia as well.

"Are you girls ready to get some stuff done?" she asked with a smile and both Mercedes and Quinn nodded. "Why don't you turn on some music and we can get to work!"

"What about everyone else?"

"Well, your brothers are gone for the night, and Annabelle, Trey, and Jasper are spending the night with Lynn and Jeffrey. So the only ones in the house tonight are me and your father—and I say that all work should be accompanied by music—especially when you're preparing for a party."

Quinn and Mercedes laughed at the same time, before Delia turned on the house wide sound system by flicking a switch. They walked into the entrance hall and Mercedes unlocked the shallow cabinet on the wall. Inside was a smart screen with a huge iTunes playlist on it. The girls stood there and debated on what music to play before they settled on one of Mercedes' dance mixes.

The music swelled from the speakers and it put a smile on their faces to hear the entire house filled with sound. And then they got to work. Mercedes and Quinn carried boxes down into the basement while Delia started rolling dough for the homemade pizzas they'd be making later on tonight for dinner.

For three hours, Quinn, Mercedes and Delia cleaned and organized foods out into an array. Mercedes made sure that all of the batteries in the remote controls were brand new. They sang and danced and cracked jokes at each other as they moved about the large house—vacuuming, dusting, and making sure things were put away.

Mercedes had to fold like three loads of laundry and put them all away. Quinn was given Annabelle and Trey's laundry while Mercedes was stuck with her brothers' clothes, including their underwear. She folded a pair with a grimace on her face.

"You_ nasty_," she muttered—making Quinn snort into one of Annabelle's dresses as she tried to smother her laughter. Mercedes solved that problem by tossing some at Quinn's head.

"Ew!" she said in disgust as she flung the pair away from her body. "Mercy!"

"That's what you get for laughing!"

The two ended up snickering, but they stopped playing around when Delia walked past the room. They quickly finished the laundry and took it upstairs to the different rooms. When they were finally finished with the cleaning—they were pulled into the kitchen to cook and form the pizza dough and chop toppings.

* * *

><p><strong>May 19, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**Jones Estate**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7: 24PM**

When everything was done, Quinn and Mercedes had about thirty minutes to shower and change out of their dirty clothes, before people started arriving. Quinn actually went to her room this time—so they would be ready before anyone got there.

Mercedes showered quickly and got dressed—putting on a pair of gray sweat pants and a v-neck black t-shirt that had a shower of glitter crossing her torso in a diagonal. She did her hair in that curly, crimpy, wavy style that Sam loved so much, and slipped on a red cardigan with thin horizontal white stripes all across the red fabric.

Mercedes put on facial lotion and chap-stick and decided that was well enough. She slipped on a pair of black socks and her thick-framed glasses. She knew she was a tease, because Sam loved her hair like this and he also loved her glasses, but she'd make it up to him after everyone left the next day.

Once dressed, she spritzed herself with some light perfume and then left her bedroom after cleaning up after herself.

She met Quinn downstairs—the blonde's hair was still damp from her shower, and she wore a cotton gray t-shirt with some plaid pajama shorts and her blue sweater. The two of them sat in the living room—Mercedes' nerves acting up as the time passed by. Her cell phone rang and she immediately answered it.

"Uh, Mercy," Tina said into the phone, "I'm not sure that you gave us the right house..."

"Are you standing outside a huge mansion with an ornate door?" Mercedes asked.

"Yeah," Tina replied slowly. "Mike and Artie are here too. Should we run before the owners call the cops?"

"You're at the right house," she responded with a giggle. "Gimme a second."

When Mercedes opened the door—three faces stared back at her, completely gob-smacked. Their eyes only got wider when they focused on the large entrance hall behind her. "Come in, guys," she said. The three of them traded looks for a moment, before Mike rolled Artie through the door and Tina followed them.

"_Oh my god_," Tina said—her voice practically a squeal.

"This is your _**house**_?" Mike and Artie said at the same time—both of their voices reflecting the disbelief that both of them were feeling.

"Yeah," Mercedes answered. Quinn came out of the living room—sliding across the marble floor on her socks. She whizzed past them and caught herself against the front door.

"Finn and Rachel called me, well_ you_—asking if they were in the right place and Kurt and Blaine are with them. Puck and Lauren are here too!" she called out to them, before she opened the door. The new arrivals all wore the same incredulous expressions that Mike, Tina, and Artie were wearing—with the exception of Kurt, who had already seen her house.

They came inside and the staring continued. Mercedes decided to let them regain their bearings before she said anything—it was quite the shock to see just how rich Mercedes was.

The doorbell rang again and Quinn opened it—Santana and Brittany were standing there, gaping.

"Wheezy, this is your house?" Santana exclaimed as she stepped inside—taking the time to drop her backpack on the ground next to the door. "_Girl,_ why have I not been invited over for dinner? We needs to keep up the multicultural swag—this segregation of our persons is no longer acceptable. _Okay?"_

Mercedes laughed at her friend's speech. "You're welcome at my house, Santana—as long as you remember to leave Satan at the door when you walk in."

"That can be arranged," Santana replied, before pulling Mercedes into a hug. Brittany clapped her hands—apparently enjoying the display of friendship. Mercedes smiled at them both when the Latina pulled away.

Santana's show of friendship seemed to pull everyone out of their stupor. She was passed around for hugs and all of the bags ended up in a pile next to the door.

"Where's Sam?" Finn questioned and Mercedes' brow furrowed in slight worry. She hadn't heard from him since she saw him at school, but he promised that he'd be here.

"He should be here soon," Mercedes replied—not allowing her concern to show itself. "Why don't I give you guys the grand tour?"

There were nods all around. Mercedes turned on her heel and started walking away, but the doorbell rang. She stopped and Quinn came forward. "I'll take them," she said before she started walking down the hallway. Everyone followed her except Mercedes.

Mercedes watched as Quinn pointed out the kitchen and the living room and downstairs playroom before she hustled to the door and opened it slightly. Sam smiled down at her, but she held the door closed.

"You're _late_, Evans," she whispered and Sam chuckled—he dropped his bag on the porch and leaned his forehead against the door; sliding as close to Mercedes as possible.

"Annabelle wouldn't let me go!" he said, "It's your fault for having your little sister like me so much."

"So not only were you late—you were cheatin' with my sister," Mercedes joked—Sam blushed.

"She's so cute though!"

"Give me one good reason why I should forgive you and let you inside?" she asked.

"I brought kisses," he replied.

Mercedes playfully narrowed her eyes at him. "Chocolate kisses or real Sammy kisses?"

Sam dug around in his front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a handful of chocolate Hershey kisses. "I've got both," he told her and she laughed. Mercedes glanced over her shoulder to see where their friends were—and seeing their legs disappearing upstairs made her realize that the coast was clear.

She opened the door enough to slip outside and she left it open a crack. She turned around and was immediately pulled into a kiss. She hadn't kissed him since that surprise mack-session in the auditorium at lunch today and she'd missed his soft lips on hers.

They pulled away slightly—barely any space between their mouths. "I'm getting way too addicted to kissing you," she told him with a smile.

"And I'm getting a bit pissed that you're wearing your hair like that and your glasses," he replied, "You know how I feel about you in those two things."

"Yeah, I know," she responded—a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. Sam gave her the judgmental eyeball—she laughed.

"You_ tease_!" he told her. "You know I won't be able to kiss you once we walk inside and you did it anyway."

"I'll make it up to you tomorrow," she answered and Sam pulled her into another kiss.

"Damn right you will," he said gruffly. Sam kissed her cheek and then her ear and held her close for a moment longer.

"We should go in before they get suspicious," Mercedes replied and Sam nodded. He kissed her one last time, before stepping away from her. Sam grabbed his bag and swung it over his shoulder as Mercedes walked inside the house. He followed her and shut the door behind them.

Sam tossed his bag on the pile next to the door and hung his sweater up on one of the coat hooks near the door. They chanced holding hands until they reached the staircase before they went up and caught up to everyone else. Between Quinn and Mercedes the tour of the house went quickly—everyone exclaiming over Mercedes' bedroom and how awesome it was. It was only when Mercedes showed them the basement that things got _ridiculous_.

Lauren had carried Artie down the stairs before Mercedes could tell her that there was an elevator, but the joyous cries that rose made her laugh instead of thinking about it too much.

She hurried down the stairs just in time to see Puck fall to his knees in front of the television. Finn was literally crawling to the shelves of games along the wall. Artie had up his gospel hand and Mike couldn't speak. He just gestured towards all of the game consoles and Mercedes was sure that his eyes were _sparkling_.

Mercedes had to do a double take towards Finn, because she could've sworn that his shoulders were shaking.

"Finn—are you _crying_?"

"How could you keep this from us, Mercy?" Finn asked—his voice thick and Quinn burst out laughing. Santana had been dying from giggles since they'd walked into the room.

"_That's it_—Mercedes' house is heaven and Jesus lives in the basement. This basement is Jesus' bedroom." Artie's voice was emotional and his hand hadn't stopped waving since he'd entered the basement.

"Is it bad that I want your TV to be the new torah? You know, so I can worship it." Puck was actually _hugging_ the television.

"It's just so beautiful—_I can't_," Mike said—his voice high-pitched as he stared at the shiny PS3 on her shelf.

Mercedes thought she was going to die from laughter. "Oh, hells yeah!" Santana cheered—"Wheezy has a pool table and a space for me to kick some ass at ping pong?"

"I don't think I can leave," Finn moaned dramatically as he ran his hands along the spines of all the video games. He made a high-pitched sound in the back of his throat. "I might have to move in."

Mercedes laughed. "Boy, you need to stop!" she told him, "We have to get upstairs—there's food to make!"

"We're cooking?" Santana asked—her hip cocked. "What kind of five-star joint is this that we can't get any service?"

"This is a house," Rachel replied, "Not a hotel."

"No one asked you—"

"Satan is not welcome in my house, Santana!" Mercedes interrupted before her insult could be finished. Santana's lips pursed and she shot Rachel a condescending look, but she stopped talking.

Mercedes wasn't playing any games tonight. It was going to be an evening of fun without drama. She was determined to make it so.

"And you guys need to decide whether we're sleeping down here or piling in my bed upstairs," she said.

"Bed!" Santana replied immediately, "Does anyone really think I'm going to give up the chance to sleep with Queen of the Natural Knockers?"

Mercedes blushed furiously as everyone cracked up. "I say bed too!" Brittany said, "I've always thought Mercedes would be the best cuddler. Her boobs look awesome." The blonde fist pumped and Mercedes thought she was going to die of embarrassment.

"Bed it is, then," she responded trying to ignore the snickering that was going on between her friends. "Now, come on—homemade pizza time!"

She led the way upstairs—everyone following behind her. Finn had looked torn about leaving the games, but he was too hungry to stay. Artie was carried upstairs by Puck this time—Mike had his chair in hand.

Mercedes told them about the full house surround sound system that had been installed on their way to the kitchen and instantly Santana, Artie, and Puck were in front of the smart screen. She rolled her eyes but she lead everyone into the kitchen—her parents were already there, putting pre-made dough onto matte paper that rested on the countertop.

"Everyone this is my mother, Delia Jones," Mercedes said in introduction, "And this is my dad—David Jones."

Greetings chorused around the room before Mercedes introduced them each. "This is Mike, Finn, Tina, Blaine, Lauren, and Rachel. And of course you know Kurt, Quinn and Sam," she said. Everyone either shook her parents' hands or waved. "The three missing are Santana, Puck, and Artie, and they're bickering over the music."

Delia laughed—and only laughed harder when the argument between the missing three got loud enough to hear through the open doorway.

"Puckerman, you and that squirrel that lives on top of your head needs to get out because we are not about to play some honky-tonk music from a guy who couldn't figure out that his skinny ass needed bigger pants!"

"Aerosmith is _classic_, Satan! I don't understand why your opinion means more to this selection!"

"If y'all don't shut up and turn on some Michael Jackson, I'm going to go all Lima Crippled on each of your asses!"

"_MJ_, Wheels, really?"

"Think very carefully about the words that you're about to speak Santana, because you insult my King and I will run your ass over with my wheelchair—_**multiple times**_."

"We need some Latino/Spanish influence up in this mug," Santana replied.

"The last time the Spanish influenced anything—over a million people died," Puck retorted, "That should be a warning sign."

"Don't make me cuss you out, Puckerman! Nobody insults my heritage without getting smacked. Talk shit—_get hit_."

The argument was suddenly drowned out by the sound of Michael Jackson's _Billy Jean_ playing. Mercedes couldn't stop giggling—apparently Artie had won that round.

"We'll leave you kids to it," David said as he escorted his thoroughly amused wife out of the room. They got a round of goodbyes, before Mercedes grabbed the bowl of tomato sauce.

"Pizza time!" she said, before she grabbed a piece of dough and started spreading sauce. Her actions caused a stampede as everyone went to different pieces and different toppings. Ten minutes later—they were all laughing at the different combinations people had created.

Santana, Artie, and Puck had joined them by this point and they were all jamming out some Usher—something all three could agree on. The pizzas didn't take long to bake and before two hours had passed—all of them were downstairs in the basement; chowing down on pizza, soda and the snacks that Mercedes and Quinn had set out earlier.

The conversation flowed between everyone smoothly—and once they were done; the boys washed their hands and immediately went to the video games. Somehow, Mercedes had been dragged into the video game tournament when the girls decided to play some pool.

The cussing and trash talk started almost instantly when Sam and Finn challenged each other.

"You fucker—_**that's cheatin'**_!" Sam yelled as Finn threw an arm out, blocking his vision. Because of the distraction, Finn won the round. Mercedes had to bite back a smile—no one would ever forget that Sam was from the country, but when he was mad, his accent came pouring out.

_It was such a turn on. _

Sam came back with a vengeance the next round and kicked Finn's ass. They played two more rounds—both of which Sam won and Finn traded places with Mike. Mercedes watched in amusement as the cussing started up again—this time from Finn cheering Mike on and Puck was telling Finn to take his shit elsewhere.

The game truly started though when Puck challenged Mercedes and she _kicked his ass_. The "_Daammmmnnn_, yo' ass got tore up!" from Artie had them all cackling. Puck was just staring at the screen in shock.

"Where the hell did that come from?" Mike asked—his jaw nearly on the floor. Sam was still laughing.

"Marry me, goddess!" Finn cried before he sprawled out on the couch and put his head in Mercedes' lap. She laughed—running a hand through his hair. She saw the look on Sam's face from the corner of her eye, and laughed harder.

"How were we in a relationship and I didn't know about the epicness of your inner badass?" Puck asked—eying her from his place on the floor next to her legs.

"You had your head shoved too far up your ass to realize how amazing this lady was," Mercedes responded primly and Puck groaned in dismay.

"Why was I so stupid?" he asked dramatically. Rachel walked around the side of the couch and eyed the way Finn was laying across her lap.

"What's going on here?" she asked—a dubious smile crossing her face.

"I've discovered my eternal love for my goddess," Finn joked, "You're shit out of luck, Rachel."

Mercedes couldn't help but laugh at the look on her face. Finn was saved from a tongue-lashing by Quinn rolling over the back of the couch. "I'm ready to kick some ass at Call of Duty," Quinn told them and they stared at her. "_What?"_

"_You_ play video games?"

"I lived in this house for months," Quinn said, "If I didn't learn to play video games just because of this amazing room, then I would've learned because Mercy has four brothers and I'm not about to let someone walk all over me."

"The revelations of today are too much," Puck said—biting his knuckles as if he was in pain and Mercedes laughed.

"Y'all need to stop," Mercedes told them.

"Can we play something for all of us?" Rachel asked—she was still eying Finn's position in her lap, but Mercedes kept at it. It would be good for her to learn some humility.

"Just Dance!" Santana yelled as she tossed the game into Sam's hands. There were shrugs all around and they decided to play the Wii version.

And the tournament began. Santana lost to Brittany, Mercedes then beat Brittany. And the most surprising one of all—Artie smoked Mike. It made everyone laugh for a good ten minutes, before Puck turned on Party Rock Anthem and it turned into a giant dance party.

Grinding, popping and locking—everyone was on everybody; even Rachel got into the action.

The songs changed—the bass pounding and they all ended up in a tight circle—cheering and fist pumping. It was quite exhilarating and hilarious, because Artie was fist-pumping from his chair right next to them.

When the song changed to Jesse McCartney's _Leavin_', people couldn't help but sing along. And somehow Mercedes ended up right in front of Sam—grinding. His hands were on her hips and they moved together, before Mercedes was pulled away by Quinn.

"Your _girlfriend_ is showing," the blonde whispered and Mercedes blushed, but they continued dancing—she made herself stay far away from Sam for the rest of the song.

It wasn't long before Lauren had to take off and everyone wished her a safe trip home. The kiss she gave Puck was X-rated and Mercedes had to look away to stop blushing. She caught Sam's eye and blushed furiously when he winked at her with that sexy half-smile on his face.

Once she left, Quinn got restless.

"I'm seriously ready to kick somebody's ass at video games," Quinn whined as the music was turned down and everyone started to catch their breath.

"I accept your challenge!" Mike responded. "Partner game?"

"Wii Tennis match," Quinn replied, "Santana wanna be my partner?"

"Sure thing, girl," she answered as she strolled to the front of the room. "I'm about to go hard on this game, Twinkle Toes—don't cry when I'm done."

Quinn walked after her—an amused grin on her face as Mike practically towed Puck to the front of the room.

"I'm going to get some more cold water from upstairs," Mercedes called to her friends—she received a chorus of thank you's from everyone as they settled on the couch and on the floor while Quinn set up the Wii.

Mercedes laughed softly to herself at her soul-sister's antics, before turning to walk upstairs. She was surprised when she almost ran directly into someone. "Oh!" she said, "Kurt, I didn't see you ther—"

"So, Mercy, when were you going to tell me about you and Sam?" Kurt asked bluntly—and for a moment, Mercedes was too taken aback to really react. _How did Kurt find out?_

If she wasn't so surprised—she would've been mad; _in fact_—she didn't like the _expectant_ tone in his voice.

Mercedes stepped back from him and narrowed her eyes. "When were _you_ going to tell me that you'd moved on to whiter pastures in the Land of Best Friends?" she asked—her voice was snappish and Kurt looked surprised at the rejoinder.

"_What?"_ he sputtered, "What are you talking about, Mercedes? I'm your best friend—"

"Oh, really?" Mercedes retorted, "You're such a_ great_ friend of mine that it took you until now to remember that I existed? Some friend you are." She moved to step around him—not wanting to get anymore upset than she already was, but Kurt's hand on her arm stopped her.

"You're being ridiculous—I have a boyfriend and other friends besides you. It's stupid to think that I can hang around you every second of the day—"

_**Oh, hell to the no. **_

Mercedes put her hand up—directly in front of his face and Kurt stopped talking. The look in her eyes had to be mutinous from all the rage she was currently feeling.

"You know what's _ridiculous_?" Mercedes said—all the dejected feelings that she'd stuffed away at the back of her mind just rose up like a tidal wave. "The fact that you're pulling me away from my own party to demand some sort of information about my life when you could've known if you had spared a lick of attention for me, but no—it was all Blaine this and Blaine that and Rachel this and Rachel _fucking _that."

Kurt looked hurt, angry, and confused, but Mercedes was on a roll. "What has Rachel ever done for you? Besides constantly putting you down the first year—acting like you weren't good enough most of the second, and being a general pain in the ass, but all of sudden she's your new best friend?" Mercedes told him, "What was that? You should explain _that_ to me before you go asking about my life."

"We have similar interests, Mercedes," Kurt replied, "You never made it known what your plans were for the future and Rachel was just there—she has the same dream as me, but that doesn't mean that I'm not your best friend."

"If you were my best friend, where the hell were you during prom week?" Mercedes questioned—tears were threatening to spill over her eyelids and she really wished they wouldn't—she didn't want to cry. "If you were my best friend, how come I haven't spent a _minute_ alone with you since you came back to McKinley? I fought for you. I threw you a welcome back party. I've supported you in every way that I possibly could and yet you still dropped me for the pretty boy with brown eyes and the wannabe Barbra Streisand."

"I was at a different school! I can't just ignore Blaine—"

"You apparently can't do _anything_ without Blaine, Kurt! You couldn't even come to my party without him!" Mercedes snapped and Kurt's eyes widened. "Do you know how much that hurt? It's like you were telling me that I wasn't enough to make you happy!"

"That's not true, Mercedes," Kurt whispered—his voice a harsh combination of exasperation, anger, and sadness. "I just haven't seen him since last week and I wanted him to get to know my friends."

"You haven't seen him since last—"

"I love him, Mercedes," Kurt interrupted. "I really do, and being away from him is hard."

Mercedes shook her head at his statement—he wasn't going to budge on the Blaine topic—she didn't even see why she was still arguing with him anyway.

"So what's your excuse for Rachel? What's your excuse for being completely absent from my life for the past few months? I was in the bed right across from Rachel—and yet, she's the one who you snuck out for a day on the town."

"I didn't think you'd—"

"Save it, Kurt," she stated and he fell silent. Mercedes didn't want him to finish that sentence, because she might start swinging or worse—crying because he'd hurt her feelings once again.

That day at her locker when he'd told her she was substituting food for love—she'd gone home and cried; feeling completely unloved and humiliated. Kurt had the ability to make her feel lower than dirt at times and he didn't even realize it.

Mercedes glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one else had seen the argument between the two of them. They were all distracted by the foursome playing an intense game of Wii tennis—their cheering happy and sometimes quite vulgar.

She turned her head back and looked up at him, her vision blurry from the tears she was holding back as she spoke, "I used to accept people walking in and out of my life like I was a revolving door, but not anymore." Kurt seemed even more upset at her statement, but she didn't give him a chance to interrupt.

She continued, her voice growing stronger even as her resolve to not cry weakened, "I deserve better—I deserve the best, and it took me awhile to get here, but I'm not going back to the spineless, _convenient_ best friend that I used to be. You want to be in my life? I suggest you give me a _reason_ to let you back in."

With that, Mercedes brushed past a shocked Kurt to walk up the stairs.

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><p><strong>May 20, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Jones Estate-Kitchen**

**Lima, Ohio**

**12: 21AM**

If there was one thing Sam hated—it was when Mercedes was upset.

He'd hated it before they were together, but now that they were dating; seeing her so emotional made him want to punch something, preferably the cause of her tears—but he couldn't exactly sucker-punch Kurt without having some questions asked.

He'd seen the whole argument between the two. Mercedes' back had been to him, but he could tell when she got angry because she tensed and Kurt's facial expressions said a lot about the words they were exchanging.

Sam had seen the way she checked over her shoulder—and the hurt on her face almost made him leap out of his seat and go to her. He'd resisted—_barely_—but only because he knew that she'd be even more upset if he blew their secret out of the water.

So he waited and watched—and when he saw her hurry up the stairs; Sam knew he wouldn't be able to resist going to her. He stood up and quietly slipped away—before hopping two stairs at a time all the way up to the main floor.

The entrance hall was quiet when he walked out of the small hallway leading to the basement stairs, but he could hear faint sounds of someone rummaging around in the kitchen. He walked through the archway just in time to see Mercedes toss a water bottle into a basket so hard that it flipped the wicker container over.

"Fuck!" she said as she impatiently righted the basket—placing it back on the counter. She turned to get another bottle from the fridge and Sam realized that she was crying—and she was crying hard.

"Cede," Sam said and she jumped in fright. Sam smiled at the sight of her wide eyes and the hand she'd thrown over her heart, but it dropped when her eyes flared with recognition and she turned away from him

"Sam," she replied, "You shouldn't be up here." Mercedes wouldn't look at him—even when he walked all the way into the room and moved closer to her.

"What happened, sweetheart?" he asked and Mercedes stopped for a moment.

"You should really learn how to not scare people when you make an entrance," she said—it was a feeble attempt to change the subject, but Sam wasn't about to fall for it.

"Cede," he said again and she gave him a sharp look.

"You really should go back downstairs, before anyone notices that both you and I are missing," she told him. Sam rolled his eyes and stepped closer to her.

"I don't care about that," he responded, "I want to make sure you're alright."

"Well I do care about that," Mercedes snapped at him, "And I'm _fine_." She tossed two more bottles of cool water into the wicker basket.

"What happened, Nala?" he questioned—his voice quiet. The name seemed to quell the rage she was feeling for a moment.

"_Kurt_ happened, that's what." she told him. Sam was grateful that she'd opened up to him, but he still didn't have any idea how to comfort her.

"You're gonna have to expand on that one, sweetheart," Sam said, but Mercedes pretty much acted like she didn't hear him.

"I should put dye into his conditioner—see how much he likes it," she muttered and Sam had to bite back a grin. His lady seemed to have some prankster blood in her. He'd have to save those questions for a later time.

"Mercedes—"Sam tried again, but she ignored him.

"He hasn't been in my life for the past _three _months—why the fuck would I tell him about_ us_?" she asked Sam—her crying restarted. And suddenly it all made sense in Sam's head. Kurt must have asked her something about them—and she hadn't responded well; neither had he from the look of their conversation.

"He is your best friend," Sam replied slowly. Mercedes gave a bitter laugh at that statement before wiping the tears off her face. He thought that they'd finally start talking about it, but Mercedes turned away from him and walked back to the fridge.

"I don't want to talk about this—it doesn't matter." She told him over her shoulder—and Sam almost gaped at her. He couldn't decide if he should be annoyed or not.

"You're _crying_ and you're angry—_**it matters."**_

"Sam, I said I don't want to talk about it!" she retorted defensively and Sam felt that annoyed feeling take root and grow.

"I'm your _**boyfriend **_Mercedes, not just your _friend_," he stated, "Don't shut me out when you're feeling hurt!" His voice rose a little on the last line, and Mercedes' eyes watered—the hurt and anger in them sparkling back at him from her brown eyes.

"Oh, so now you're mad at me too." She violently tossed four more bottles of water into the wicker basket on the counter and Sam moved over and grabbed her shoulders. He turned her around—so he could meet her eyes.

"I'm mad because you keep holding things back, and you don't have to do that—you don't have to fight every battle alone or solve every issue on your own."

"I'm not some needy damsel, Sam," Mercedes whispered.

"I know you're an independent woman, but this is a **relationship**—_our relationship_ and I want it to work. You can't have a relationship when only one person is sharing." His words were softly spoken, but they obviously touched Mercedes. She fell into his chest—his arms automatically wrapping her into a comforting embrace.

She hugged him back and tried to stop crying. Sam knew that it would take her awhile to adjust to having someone there for her like he was, but he cared for her enough to know that she was more than worth the slightly strenuous adjustment period.

Her arms wrapped around his neck as she looked up at him. "I'm sorry for being so annoying tonight," she told him through her slowing tears. Sam just kissed her.

"Don't worry about it, Cede," he replied, "I understand."

"Can we just have a good time tonight and talk tomorrow when everyone leaves?" she asked him and Sam nodded.

"Of course," Sam responded, before he pulled her even closer and kissed her again. It only took a couple of minutes for Mercedes to clean herself up while Sam finished putting some cold bottles of water in the basket.

He helped her with it all the way down the stairs and then made a ninja escape when they reached the basement landing. She went straight to their cackling group of friends—apparently Santana and Quinn had won—with the cool water while Sam snuck down the hall to the basement bathroom.

He waited a minute before coming back out and rejoining the party. It was a fun evening—they took tons of pictures, and of course there were lots of incriminating videos recorded, many lewd jokes being told, and there was rarely a moment when someone wasn't laughing.

Kurt and Mercedes didn't speak for the rest of the night though—Sam kept a close eye on that situation. And as they all decided at five in the morning that it was time for bed—he walked next to a sleepy Mercedes and whispered, "Don't let them fool you, sweetheart. Santana and Brittany can cuddle you tonight and Finn can propose to his goddess all he wants—I know that you're with me. And I was the first boy you ever slept with."

The wide eyes Mercedes shot him made his little speech less embarrassing. He winked at her, before falling to the back of the group—knowing that it was true. That night, when she'd come crying to him, they'd fallen asleep together in the back of her BMW—and he would forever be the first boy she'd slept with.

It was a fact that put Sam at ease when Santana cuddled into his girlfriend's arms—or when Puck got the spot at her feet.

They all lay sprawled across her bed—Mike having put Artie near the headboard so he wouldn't get rolled on by anyone. It was a peaceful night for Sam—he felt safe and happy and he hoped the feeling would continue to grow throughout the summer.

* * *

><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until next time! :D <strong>


	31. The Return of the Teenager

**DISCLAIMER: On First Chapter.**

**In the next chapter, shit's gonna go DOWN. LOL. You guys might recognize a scene in this chapter. Happy reading! :D**

* * *

><p><strong>May 20, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Jones Estate—Entrance Hall**

**Lima, Ohio**

**12: 42PM**

Since everyone had gone to sleep so late last night—none of them had even stirred until after eleven this morning. Mercedes' mom had prepared a huge meal for them all—and Delia had clearly recognized that her guy friends could eat because she cooked enough for a literal feast.

The sad thing—it was all gone about thirty minutes after they'd sat down at the table; like _**gone**_.

There wasn't a food item left on the table once they were finished eating.

The good thing—her mother was crowned top chef of the Glee parents. She'd gotten so many compliments that Mercedes was sure that she'd be glowing from pride for the next year.

It was hilarious. She'd clearly remembered that Rachel was a vegan—Mercedes had told her many times as a reminder. And she'd made a whole meal for her friend—Rachel had been taken aback but grateful. She'd even said, "Thank you."

That was certainly a first. Shocked expressions had spread around the table, and Rachel blushed in response. They'd quickly gone back to eating once Puck stole a biscuit off Finn's plate. Pandemonium had ensued. Nobody took Finn's food.

But now—everyone had cleaned up and brushed their teeth and helped clean up the kitchen; and they were all leaving. Mercedes gave everyone warm hugs, promising them that they'd hang out again soon. The only one she didn't hug was Kurt—she wasn't ready to deal with that right now. She gave him a half-hearted wave though and he left without a word.

Blaine hugged her though—something that surprised her, but she awkwardly hugged him back. He left after telling her goodbye. Quinn was the last one to head out—she was catching a ride home with Santana and Brittany. The blonde left after embracing Mercedes tightly and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

Mercedes closed the door after Santana's tail lights vanished from the end of her driveway and made her way back into the kitchen where her mother and Sam were.

"—don't need to do that, Sam." Her mother was saying as Mercedes walked into the kitchen.

Her boyfriend was carrying a stack of dishes to the sink and getting ready to wash them. "I know, Mrs. Jon—I mean Delia, but I was taught manners and it's rude to eat and then not offer to help clean up."

Mercedes saw her mom began to say something, but Mercedes interrupted. "Give up, mama," she said—drawing their attention to her, "He won't budge on this chivalry thing."

Her mother harrumphed, but she relented.

Mercedes watched in amusement as her mother eyed Sam dubiously and said, "If you can run some hot water and put all the dishes in the sink—you'll have helped enough. I just soak them for a bit and then put them in the dish washer."

Sam still looked hesitant. "Are you sure?" he asked and Delia nodded. Sam quickly did as she asked. He received a hug and a kiss on the forehead from her mother once he finished.

"You're such a sweet boy," Delia told him, "Thank you for your help."

"Anytime," he replied—the smile he shot her mother made Mercedes melt on the inside. Sam was such a charmer.

Sam walked towards Mercedes and offered her a hand.

"Can we go outside and talk for a bit?" he asked softly and she nodded. It seemed that she wasn't getting out of this discussion, after all.

Their fingers entwined and Mercedes led him out of the kitchen and wound her way through the house until they came to the door that opened out to the backyard. Once they moved through it, Sam shut the door with his free hand and they started walking.

* * *

><p><strong>May 20, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Jones Estate-Garden**

**Lima, Ohio**

**12: 56PM**

Sam stared at Mercedes—and she stared back.

"Will you tell me what happened?" he asked and Mercedes groaned inwardly. She really didn't want to talk about this, but Sam was right—they were in a relationship and it wasn't fair of her to act like she couldn't talk about her issues.

She leaned back against the big evergreen tree and sighed. "Kurt asked me when I was going to tell him about you and me dating."

"How'd he find out?" Sam asked his brow furrowed.

He was sitting in front of her in the grass; his legs spread out in a V as he leaned back on his hands. Mercedes had each of her legs thrown over each of his and they were sitting close enough that Sam's feet were by her hips.

She wasn't quite sure how they'd gotten in this position, but she could stare at Sam in his thin but fitted navy sweater and his light blue jeans. He had on a red baseball cap and Mercedes found it a little bit too attractive for her own good.

"I don't know," she replied, "I didn't even think to ask—I just kind of went straight to anger. I asked him about why he ditched me for Rachel and he told me that that wasn't true."

Just thinking about that made Mercedes roll her eyes in annoyance.

It took awhile for Mercedes to explain the entire argument in detail—Sam kept asking her questions to clarify things and she'd basically recounted word for word what had been said.

When she was done, Sam was quiet. His green eyes studied her intently and Mercedes felt like squirming under his gaze. Sam silently looked at her for about a minute, before he leaned forward and placed his warm hands on her lower leg.

The heat from his palms had Mercedes blushing; especially when he started stroking her shin through the fabric of her gray sweatpants.

"You're gonna get mad at me in a few seconds," Sam told her—making her pay attention to the conversation again instead of the feeling of his hands on her legs and worrying about the fact that she wanted his hands on her_ bare_ skin.

She blinked at him in surprise and bit her lip when he gave her a serious look.

"Cede, Kurt was wrong to ignore you like he did," Sam said, "And he was wrong to come up to you and demand information without apologizing."

Mercedes nodded—she knew that already.

"But _you _were wrong too."

"_Excuse me_?" she asked in shock—Sam gave her a look and she glared back. "How was I wrong? He's the one who left me in the dust like I meant nothing."

"Let me finish," Sam replied and Mercedes crossed her arms and raised an expectant eyebrow.

"You were wrong because you didn't say anything either," Sam continued, "He can't read minds—and a friendship is like a relationship—just without all the nice kisses and cuddling."

Mercedes didn't want to be amused by that, but it was such a Sam thing to say that she couldn't help it. She was still mad even though he had a good point.

"You can't expect Kurt to know what's wrong if you don't tell him. And to be fair, we were spending a lot of time together too. So it's a bit hypocritical of you to try and accuse Blaine of stealing him away."

"But—"

"Cede," Sam said firmly—the authoritative tone in his voice both aroused her and annoyed her.

She hated that he could be sexy and tell her off at the same time. She hadn't encountered this side of him very often—and when she had; it was only for a minute or two.

"Kurt and Blaine care a lot for each other," he told her, "I can understand why you'd be upset about him not being there as often, but I know I act the same way about you—I've had to force myself to stop thinking about you because I'm spending time with others. I'd love to spend all day, _every day_ with you—but I don't because you might kill me if I tried and also because I know how to control the addiction to a new relationship."

Hearing that Sam thought about her all the time and wanted to be with her that much—it put a swarm of butterflies in her stomach, but they were dampened by the fact that she was just as guilty as Kurt was about wanting to spend so much time with her boyfriend.

The difference was that she and Sam were in a secret relationship and couldn't do that as much but if they were public—she might've become just as engrossed in their relationship as Kurt was in his.

"And it's not the same either—because Quinn has a lot of serious stuff going on in her life and you wouldn't ignore that for anything," Sam said, "I also know that you're not the kind of girl to ditch her friends to hang out with me."

He started caressing her legs again and Mercedes took in a deep breath.

"I don't agree with the fact that you brought Blaine into the conversation, but the Rachel thing—hell yeah, I'd be pissed off about that too."

Mercedes was surprised about his declaration. It must've shown on her face because he chuckled.

"What? Did you think I wouldn't agree with _any_ of it?"

"Well—I—uh, no?"

Sam laughed and said, "I get that part, Cede. His sudden friendship with Rachel came out of absolutely nowhere and you had every right to be upset that he seemed to forget about you and then picked her up as a replacement. That kind of kills his argument about not having as much time with him dating Blaine."

Mercedes still felt thoroughly chastised, but she smiled at him. "I don't know what to do from here, Sam," she admitted. "He was my best friend for a whole year—someone I could count on and someone I could trust, but he comes back and he's a whole new person."

"Have you ever considered that maybe Kurt's not meant to be your best friend anymore?" Sam asked softly. The thought brought tears to her eyes.

She had met Kurt at the beginning of her change from invisible to lead singer. He had been the first guy she'd ever become such good friends with. He was the first person to tell her that she was beautiful. To think that she might have to give up that friendship—it was painful to say the least.

"Sweetheart," Sam said, "I'm not saying it to be mean, but people _do_ change and sometimes you grow out of a friendship—that doesn't mean you won't be friends anymore, but you just won't be_ best_ friends."

"I understand what you're saying, Sam," Mercedes replied—her emotions making her voice shaky. "But I don't think that's happened yet."

"I think miscommunication might be the root of this problem," Sam answered, "And the only thing you can do is talk to him. Talk it out—admit the mistakes that you both made, and forgive each other."

Mercedes' heart was still hurting over the idea that Kurt and she could have grown apart so soon. And Sam noticed it.

"Come here," Sam said—patting her legs. Mercedes maneuvered herself around until she could crawl to him. She sat down in front of him—her back to his chest as he bent his knees on both sides of her body.

Mercedes let her head fall onto Sam's left shoulder as she placed her hands on his lower thighs. Sam took the liberty of lacing their fingers together before kissing the side of her head.

"It'll all work out for the best, Nala," he told her and she looked back at him—allowing him to place a sweet kiss on her mouth.

"I know," she responded before relaxing into his embrace once more. "I just—I feel like everyone's stepping stone. I'm exactly what they need for a short period of time, before they climb over me and reach the next best thing."

The confession hurt—it physically caused her heart to ache. It had been true for such a long time.

"My sophomore year—I had Kurt, Quinn and Puck," Mercedes told him—the memories of those happier times flashing through her mind. "Kurt was my first best friend. I thought we had such a bond, but then everything went downhill after he came out. Quinn was my soul-sister. I helped her all year and even welcomed her into my family after she'd treated me like shit all freshman year and at the beginning of sophomore year. And Puck—he was my first boyfriend, even if it was just a deal. We were friends, but he ditched me too."

It was quite the track record, really. "Do you have any idea how much it hurts to build what you think is a solid relationship with someone and then have them disappear without explanation?" She didn't want to cry again—she wasn't a crybaby and she would never let tears defeat her.

But having Sam hold her close—she felt safe and secure and so very _human_ in his embrace that she couldn't quite control all of the emotions roiling inside her. When he squeezed her and placed another kiss on the side of her head, Mercedes had to blink back tears.

"I was a loner most of middle school and high school," Sam admitted—Mercedes looked back at him and he gave her a sad smile. "Music was my outlet and comics were my best friends. It got better when I transferred to an all boys school, but I didn't know _friendship_ until I moved here."

"You spent a lot of time with your grandfather," Mercedes said softly and Sam's green eyes filled with tears. It broke her heart to think that he was still so pained by his grandfather's death.

"Definitely," Sam said as he pulled one hand away to turn his baseball cap backwards. He wrapped his arm around her waist again. "He was the one who introduced me to comics and he was also the one who taught me the importance of honor. I'm pretty sure that I grew up with the best father figures in the world."

"They were the reason I wasn't depressed in school—I knew that I'd always have someone to count on and play with when I went home," Sam told her, "But I had a few friends in school—I knew all about relationships, but what I wanted from a friendship was apparently very different from what others expected. So I didn't fit in too well."

Mercedes smiled at him as he blushed. "What I'm trying to say is—I know what you mean, but even with an explanation—it's never easy to accept. I understood that my grandfather was old and he'd told me many times before that all life ends, but I hated that he was gone. I understand that my dad had other things on his mind for the last couple of years—I understand even more now that I know what was really happening, but that doesn't make the disconnect that existed between us any less painful."

"It's been getting better though," Mercedes said and Sam nodded.

"Yeah," Sam replied, "He's just got this divorce thing with my mother hanging over his head and it's taking its toll—I know he's just pretending like everything is okay."

Mercedes wished there was something she could do to make the Evans family happy again—if she could kick Elizabeth out of existence; well, that would be nice too.

"I don't want to think about that right now," Sam told her and she nodded. It wouldn't help to discuss it anyway—there was nothing either of them could do.

"Who's your best friend right now?" she asked and Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Are you fishing for me to say you? Or was that a legitimate question?" he teased and Mercedes laughed.

"That was a legit question," she replied and he smirked in amusement.

"Well, besides you," Sam said making her grin, "I'd have to say Mike."

She could see that.

"Going from my old school to McKinley—it was a struggle. And I lost myself in my quest for popularity," Sam continued, "It was draining to go from having no friends to being popular, then to becoming a nobody again. But along the way—I made some of the best friends I could've ever asked for. I had to learn to love myself and that's still a work in progress, but I'm doing something right."

Sam leaned forward and kissed her softly. "I've got you, after all."

Mercedes smiled against his mouth and kissed him again.

"Do you think we should tell everyone else about us?" Sam asked once Mercedes pulled away. "Kurt and Quinn already know."

Mercedes thought about it for a moment, but it still didn't seem like the right time. There was still potential for drama to crop up and she wanted to deal with one issue at a time.

"Let's wait until this Kurt thing is dealt with," she replied, "I don't think I could take anymore drama in my life—not with Quinn's stuff going on too."

"I understand," Sam said, "I don't like it, but I understand."

"You're not okay with keeping it a secret anymore are you?" she asked and Sam sighed.

"I want to kiss you whenever I want to," Sam admitted, "It's getting harder and harder to control myself. I don't like feeling guilty about wanting to hold your hand."

"It's going to happen soon, Sammy," she told him before placing a kiss on his mouth. "I promise."

He smiled down at her, before they fell into another kiss—and then another—and quite a few more. Their lips were meshed together and their tongues twined around each other sensually. It wasn't the instant fire from the locker room, but a new and addicting type of _slow burn._

The affection she could feel from Sam's soft touches to her waist and cheeks and arms turned her on almost as much as his lips did. Mercedes actually felt like she knew what she was doing for once—and she liked having that kind of confidence.

The arousal she felt was still surprising, but it was more familiar and no longer terrifying.

Mercedes and Sam lost track of time as they got lost in kisses and caresses. It slowed to a stop though when Mercedes found herself so wound up that she'd need some alone time once Sam left. She broke away from his lips with a gasp.

"Okay," she said—breathless and overly warm. Sam's lips kissed their way down her neck and towards her shoulder. It was only when she felt him nip on this one spot that Mercedes let out a loud moan.

Sam froze in surprise for a moment, but she felt him grin into her skin. He started suckling that one super-sensitive spot on her neck—a place Mercedes hadn't even known _existed_ and she didn't want him to stop, and man did it feel good—_**too good.**_

Blushing, Mercedes clenched her thighs together when Sam nipped at her skin.

"I think we should sto—_oh!"_ Mercedes tried to say stop, but Sam moved his hand and it brushed the side of her breast.

"Shit," Sam said as he jerked his hand back. He stared at her aghast and Mercedes couldn't even be mad at him—she knew he hadn't done it on purpose. "I'm so sorry," he told her. Sam's face was bright red and he looked horrified.

"I-It's okay," she replied—still trying to recover from the sensations that had jolted through her. "But we should probably stop."

Sam nodded and Mercedes slumped back against his chest. They both took a moment to breathe and calm themselves down. "How about you help me put my pictures back up?"

"Pictures?" Sam asked as she crawled away from his embrace. Mercedes stood up quickly and stretched her back lightly. "What pictures?"

"I finally got the pictures from New York printed," she said as she stretched out her hands to Sam. Once his fingers gripped hers, Mercedes tugged until he was off the ground. He stood up and freed one hand to brush off the seat of his pants.

Their fingers entwined together as they started walking back towards the house. "I have a duplicate set for you," she told him. "I had my set framed and put on the walls, but I had to take them down because everyone was going to see my room."

"Did the pictures come out well?" he asked and Mercedes nodded.

"They look_ great_!" she replied.

Mercedes told him about all of her favorite ones that she'd framed and put up while they walked through her house and up to her bedroom. Sam's smile was practically glowing when he finally saw them in her box. It took them about ten minutes to re-hang all of the photos, and Mercedes gave him the container with his copies.

Seeing that it was nearing three o'clock in the afternoon, Sam had to get back home. They walked downstairs together, Sam holding his duffel bag in one hand and the other was grasping Mercedes' hand.

She carried his picture box under her other arm. Sam said goodbye to her mother and father as they passed the living room. Mercedes escorted Sam all the way to his truck and helped him put his things into the vehicle.

Sam opened the driver side door, before turning to Mercedes.

She hated to see him go, but he _did_ have a life outside of their relationship. With a smile, Sam leaned towards her and she rose up to meet him.

_Kissing him was never going to get old. _

"See you later, Nala," he told her with one last kiss to her lips.

"See you, Txe'lan," she replied as he climbed into the truck. The bright smile he shot her in return made her heart flutter. She waved as he drove off, before going back inside the house.

She needed to clean up her room again, and then take care of a problem caused by her boyfriend.

Good thing that she had nowhere to be for the rest of the night!

* * *

><p><strong>May 20, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Lynn's House—Living Room**

**Lima, Ohio**

**3: 07PM**

Sam walked inside the house and tossed his keys into the bowl next to the door. Duffel bag on one shoulder and box of pictures tucked under his other arm, Sam made his way towards the stairs, but he stopped when he noticed Lynn sitting in the middle of the living room floor.

Curious, he walked over towards her and when he spotted the tenseness of her form—he figured that something was wrong.

"Lynn?" he asked.

She jumped and her head snapped towards him. He was taken aback when he saw the redness of her eyes and the puffiness of her face. It was obvious that she'd been crying.

"Sam," she said—even her voice sounded thick, "Hi, darlin'. Sorry! I didn't hear you come inside. How was the sleepover?"

"It was great," Sam replied as he dropped his duffel bag onto the couch and placed the box on top of it. Lynn looked a _mess_—stressed and tired and it seemed like she was going to start crying again. He couldn't just leave her like this. "But are you okay?"

Lynn laughed softly; blinking back tears. "That depends on if you want the honest answer or the comforting one."

"I tend to prefer honest," Sam told her and Lynn smiled. She sucked in a deep breath and wiped at her watering eyes.

"I'm okay," she said, "I'm just stressing over all that I have to do before the restaurant opening." She stared helplessly at all of the papers spread out on the floor around her. "There's so much! And no matter how many things I cross off my list—it's like they come back multiplied by three. I've got interviews, applications, decorating, making the menu—and I still haven't figured out who I'm going to have perform that night. I have to finish this website by next week so it can get some sort of publicity, but I know nothing about HTML or web design and I—"

Lynn stopped herself abruptly and shot Sam an apologetic look. "I'm sorry for complaining. This is the last thing you need to be hearing."

"Stop," Sam said as he slid down to the ground beside her. "You and Mercy are so much alike." He muttered under his breath.

"Look, Lynn—you're _family_. You've been family since you took us in, and family helps each other out. Sometimes you just need to rant and rave about the crap that's going on in your life to make things doable. You shouldn't ever feel upset about that."

"But—"

"Wasn't it you who told me that asking for help makes you _stronger_?"

Lynn's mouth snapped shut and she stared at him, before letting out a huff of laughter. "Using my own words against me," she said, "I'm impressed."

Sam grinned and she combed her fingers through her hair. "Thanks darlin'," she told him and Sam nodded.

"If you need someone to help you with web design," Sam started, "I can design it, but I also know two people who can write the code. I mean, if you _want _the help."

"Would you _really_?" Lynn asked and Sam had to smile at the hopeful tone in her voice.

"Of course," Sam replied.

"That would be wonderful! And I'll pay," Lynn said and Sam nodded.

"I'm heading over to Mike's around 4:30 so I'll ask him and Artie then," Sam replied and she beamed. The turnaround was fantastic and even though he could tell that she was still really stressed—he could see that she felt much better now.

"Thank you so much, darlin'," she said as she pulled Sam into a sideways hug. He laughed but he hugged her back.

"I also got the New York pictures from—"

"_Ooh_! Can I see?" Lynn blurted. Her hazel eyes were dancing and Sam cracked up at her excitement. "Samuel!"

"Sorry," Sam said, "Your face was priceless." He laughed again when she playfully smacked him across the back of the head. "Hold on one second."

With a smile, Sam crawled over to his duffel bag and grabbed the box off the top.

He handed it to an eager Lynn and laughed when she waited impatiently for him to sit back down beside her. The two of them went through all of the pictures—laughing over some of them. Lynn's cooing when she saw some of the pictures had Sam blushing. It didn't help that she saw pictures of him and Mercedes kissing.

"I have frames in the garage if you'd like to hang these in your room," Lynn said when they finally reached the end of the pile.

"You have enough for all of these?"

"Of course not, sweetheart! But I do have about ten frames. The rest we can put in a photo album."

"What time is it?" Sam asked, "I have to leave at 4:15."

Lynn glanced at the watch on her wrist. "It's a quarter until four. That should be enough time if I help you."

Sam smirked in her direction. "You just want to avoid the cluster-fuck that's your restaurant planning."

"_Language,"_ Lynn scolded as she poked Sam on the arm. "But I won't deny that it's true."

"You are never allowed to scold me about procrastination anymore," Sam teased as they stood up from the floor.

"I'm the adult!" Lynn said, "I can procrastinate—you can't."

"That's not fair!"

"Life ain't fair," Lynn retorted. The two of them joked and laughed all the way to the garage—where Lynn showed Sam how to correctly frame a picture and then she taught him how to hang them when they went up to his room.

Sam left a couple of minutes late—he and Lynn had quickly put the rest of his photos in an empty album. He gave her a hug goodbye and he'd run out of the door after she told him to be home in time for dinner.

* * *

><p><strong>May 20, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Lynn's House—Living Room**

**Lima, Ohio**

**6: 01PM**

"Oh, _Jeffrey_!" Lynn sang as she practically danced down the hallway towards his bedroom. She felt much better after her emotional breakdown earlier today. Not to mention having help with her website project took a load off her shoulders.

Jeff had come home about a half-hour ago and went straight up to his room to shower. She felt that thirty minutes was enough time for him to get cleaned up before she went to finally talk to him about all of her ideas for the summer.

It helped that she'd gotten a lot accomplished within the last hour and a half. Her notebook and folder of brochures tucked under her arm, Lynn knocked on Jeff's door.

"Come in!" His voice was muffled, but he sounded fine. She opened the door with a smile on her face and poked her head inside. Her eyes roved around his room—eyeing the slight mussing of his bed sheets and the half full basket of clothes against the wall.

Lynn finally spotted Jeff sitting on the couch that was against the far wall of his room. He had a bunch of blueprints spread across the coffee table in front of him and there was a stack of books next to his feet.

He shot her a crooked grin that made Lynn's heart flutter. She forced down the butterflies that swarmed in her stomach and tried her best to avoid blushing. _He was just a friend_; a really hot friend that she wanted to get naked with but **shit**—_okay._

Lynn shook her head lightly, before walking into the room and shutting the door behind her.

"Hey Lynn," Jeff greeted as she walked inside. "You need something?"

"Yeah, actually," Lynn replied as she made her way over to him. She plopped down on the couch next to him, and turned to face him—sitting crossed-legged on the couch in her jeans and socks.

"I've wanted to talk to you about your summer plans for the kids for awhile now and I figured now was a good time."

Jeff looked a bit surprised, but he shrugged. "Well, I don't really have anything spectacular planned for them," he admitted, "I know Stacey might want to do some theater after her recital or something, but I haven't thought much about it."

"_Well_," Lynn said slowly, and Jeff gave her a look of fond exasperation.

"What have you done now, crazy woman?" he asked—his voice slightly teasing, but Lynn could tell he wanted to know. She bit her lip and handed him her folder. Jeff took it with a bewildered expression.

"I've been talking with the kids about their favorite things," Lynn said as Jeff rifled through the brochures—the look of confusion and surprise growing on his features. "And I know that they really want to do some stuff this summer. So, I took the liberty of looking around and finding some things that were affordable and that they could do."

She could tell that he wasn't exactly happy about it all by the tightening of his mouth. Her heart beating faster, Lynn started explaining her ideas—not even paying attention to the nervous wringing of her hands. "I know that Stevie hasn't done any sports before, and I figured that joining a club swim team would be good for him. It's hard work, but I think he'd be good at it. And Stacey—she loves dancing and singing and acting; and there's this wonderful theater camp for kids down at the community theatre this summer. Dance classes are very-well priced and I couldn't find a softball team for kids, but there's a club soccer team that she could play—"

"Lynn, stop," Jeff said—his tone was displeased and firm. It made Lynn wince when she heard it. The last thing she wanted was for him to be angry.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I can't afford all this," Jeff told her—the shame in his voice making her heart hurt. "You know that I can't pay for all of this!"

"You don't have to," Lynn replied, "I can pay for—"

"No!" Jeff snapped and Lynn was taken aback by the anger in his tone.

"Why not?" she questioned—her defensiveness making itself known.

"You're not my pimp," Jeff said, "I don't want you to pay for everything. I'm not okay with you paying for everything. I don't pay rent. I don't pay for food. You pay _me as your employee_. I just feel like a kept man and I don't want to feel that way."

Brows furrowed and indignant, Lynn shot Jeff a glare. "Are you telling me that it's okay for a man to take care of a woman, but a woman can't take care of a man?" She knew she sounded angry, and Jeff seemed to see that he'd offended her.

"No—I'm not being sexist, I just don't want you to pay for my whole life."

"Tell me now, Jeffrey—if the roles were reversed; would you care?"

"Lynnette, that's not fair!"

"No," Lynn protested, "What's not fair is that you think it's wrong for me to try and take care of you and your kids. It's not fair that it's wrong for me to want to make them happy."

"It's not wrong for you to make them happy," Jeff refuted, "I just don't want you to spend all your money on trivial things that the kids don't need, because that's not how I want to raise them! They've learned a lot about the true value of things and I don't want that to go away."

"I'm not giving them everything they want," Lynn replied—her anger dimmed. She could understand what he meant. "I just want them to have a good summer after the year they've had."

Jeff sighed heavily and slumped back into the couch cushions.

"And if you were the one with the money—you would be doing the same; because you love them." Lynn said, meeting his blue eyes. "I love them too, you know. And they deserve a great summer."

"You love them?" Jeff asked—a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Lynn blushed, but she nodded.

"Of course I do," she replied, "They're amazing children."

Jeff was quiet for a moment as they just stared at each other—hazel and blue communicating without words. Lynn loved how much Jeff adored his kids. They were his entire world and seeing that first hand made her that much more attracted to him. She was sure that he could read her feelings in her eyes, but she didn't know how to hide this—she couldn't even define what this was.

It drove her crazy in the best way possible.

"Okay," Jeff said and Lynn beamed at him. "I'll agree to it—if and _**only if**_ you let me pay for half of it. We're a family and I want us to act like one."

Lynn pouted, but it _was_ fair. She smiled when he opened his arms to her, though. "And families give each other hugs after fights." With a laugh, she got up on her knees to hug him—and squealed when he pulled her completely into his embrace.

Laughing as he buried his face in her neck, Lynn ran her fingers through his hair and held on tight. He smelled so good and he was so amazing and _who was she kidding_? Lynn was in love with this man. It made her tear up momentarily to think that he'd probably never feel the same way about her.

The longing for his lips on hers was overwhelming, and she wished that she could toss all of her principles out of the window and just lay one on him, but Jeff was too honorable and Lynn knew what it was like to be cheated on—she would** never **be the other woman.

Slightly heartbroken, Lynn allowed Jeff to pull her onto his lap as they browsed through her folder—discussing different options and potential costs for these summer programs.

His arms felt amazing around her waist—the muscles, the warmth, _the security_ she felt; it was something she'd never experienced before and it was magical for her. She never wanted to leave his embrace, but dinner needed to be cooked and they had to talk to the kids about the summer.

Life was going to be wonderful living with Jeffrey Evans, but Lynn would have to worry about the heartbreak later.

She just wanted to enjoy these moments with him. And as she chased him out of his bedroom after he'd cracked a joke about her eating one too many whole wheat buns—Lynn laughed and _loved_ and thanked God for a second chance.

* * *

><p><strong>May 20, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Lynn's House—Living Room**

**Lima, Ohio**

**8: 11PM**

Fifteen minutes after dinner, Sam wasn't expecting to be sitting on the floor of the living room with his brother and sister—let alone sitting across from his dad and Lynn, who were both wearing serious expressions.

The last time they'd had a family discussion, he found out that his mother was a cheating scumbag and he hadn't recovered from that one, yet. He really didn't want any more surprises.

"What's going on?" Stevie blurted and Sam glanced at him. The twins seemed to feel the same way he did; judging by the nervous expressions on their faces.

"We wanted to talk to you guys about this summer," Lynn said, "And what you wanted to do."

Sam blinked at them in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked and his dad grinned.

"Well, we've found some summer programs that you might be interested in doing," he replied as Lynn handed each kid a stack of colored brochures. Sam glanced down at his pile after hearing Stacey squeal in excitement.

"I can do a theater camp?" she asked—her voice high-pitched in joy. Lynn looked like she was about to die of happiness at the exclamation and Sam smirked when he saw her nudge his dad in the side.

Jeff gave her an amused look. And Sam shook his head before actually looking at his brochures. They were for a basketball, baseball, and soccer camp—each one lasted two weeks and they had tournaments, workshops, and holy crap—_he could win a trophy?_

Sam flipped through his eagerly—his excitement growing, but then he realized that there was no way he'd be able to do them. He worked during the times they were set and there was no way he could just quit his job.

Disappointed, Sam sighed softly and looked over at Stevie and Stacey. Both of them were chattering about everything and Sam listened as Stevie agreed to do guitar lessons, swimming and soccer. Stacey decided to do theater, dance, and soccer, but no swimming.

Seeing them so happy made him feel both better _and_ worse—he was glad they would have a great summer this year. They deserved it after everything they'd been through.

"I'm gonna go get some water," Sam said before placing the brochures on the ground next to his hip and standing up. He pretended like he didn't see the concerned looks his dad and Lynn shot him as he walked away.

He got a glass and filled it with ice and then water from the Brita filter as he listened to the conversation going on in the other room. Sam lingered in the kitchen until he heard Stevie and Stacey give goodnight hugs and kisses to his dad and Lynn.

"Night Sunshine," he said as Stacey ran into the kitchen and threw herself into his open arms.

He hugged her tight and she pulled away to smile at him. Her blue eyes glittered with happiness and the smile on her face made his heart lighten. "This is going to be the best summer ever!" she said and Sam nodded.

"You bet it will," he told her, before she gave him a kiss.

"Night Sammy!" she said, "Love you."

"Love you too."

Stevie's goodnight wasn't as excitable, but he was still really happy. Sam got a hug and a kiss from his little brother.

"Will you help me with soccer?" Stevie whispered—the nervous expression in his brother's eyes made him sad.

Stevie wasn't the most athletic person ever, but then again, he hadn't really tried before. Sam was sure that he'd be great.

"Do you even have to ask?" Sam joked and Stevie gave him that crooked grin that Sam was so known for.

Looked like that was an inherited trait as well—his father did the same thing all the time.

Stevie scampered off to bed and Sam huffed out a breath. He'd be working numerous hours at the pizzeria instead of having fun playing basketball. Sam probably wouldn't complain so much if he actually liked his job, but who said that he would ever be that lucky?

His thoughts were interrupted when his dad walked into the kitchen—Lynn following right behind him.

"Alright, kiddo," Jeff said as he clapped Sam on the back. "Let's talk, huh?"

Sam wanted to give an excuse as to why he couldn't but his dad was in complete father mode and there was no denying him when he was like that.

"Why don't you want to do the summer camps?"

"It's not that I don't _want_ to," Sam admitted—fiddling with the glass of ice in his hand. "It's that I don't have time to."

"What do you mean?"

"With all the hours I'm working at the pizzeria—I just won't have time to do any of them," Sam replied, "Between that and the restaurant, I can't do it."

"How many hours are you working?" Lynn asked—her hazel eyes alight with concern.

"Almost forty a week—if not more," Sam answered and he saw his dad's eyes close. "It's not that bad, dad. Honestly—"

"No, Sam," Jeff responded, "You shouldn't have to work that much as a kid."

"And you definitely don't need to anymore," Lynn added. Jeff nodded in agreement.

"We'll work this out, but first thing Monday morning—I want you to decrease your hours to _twenty_ at the most, but I'd prefer ten."

"_Ten?"_ Sam questioned. "How can I help pay for anything with only ten hours a week?"

"You're getting paid for the website design now," Lynn said, "And your hours at the restaurant will be paid from now on."

Sam didn't know what to say. He glanced between the two of them—not really able to respond.

The relief he felt was _invigorating._

"Are you sure, dad?" Sam asked, hesitantly. He wanted this to happen, sure, but he hadn't expected it to actually **happen**. "I can keep working—I don't mind."

"Son," Jeff replied, "you've done more than I could have or _should have _ever asked for. And you've done so with a maturity that's beyond your years. I hate that we've been in the position where you had to grow up so quickly, but I'm glad that we're at a place that we can finally let you be eighteen again."

The sound of his dad's voice was gruff and he knew that his father was emotional. Lynn apparently felt the same too, because her eyes were watering and she rubbed a hand across his dad's arm.

Sam stared at them for a long moment—gratitude and happiness sweeping through him. He'd never appreciated just how wonderful being a kid was until he'd had to be an adult and take care of his family. He wouldn't take it back for anything, but it had been_ really_ hard.

He hated that he could feel himself tearing up. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of his father.

* * *

><p>Jeff stared at Sam and he could feel his heart shattering in his chest as he watched his eldest son struggle with the relief he was feeling. It <em><strong>broke <strong>_him to realize that his son had been holding back all this fear and stress. He wished that Sam had never had to go through this, but they could both rejoice now that it was slowly but surely coming to an end.

Sam's green eyes flittered between him and Lynn. They were filled with disbelief, relief, and happiness. And the sheen of tears that was steadily gathering had a lump forming in Jeff's throat.

"I would really like to do the sports camps, Dad," Sam said and Jeff smiled at him. "But only if it's completely okay with the lesser income. I don't mind working."

"Sam," Jeff told his son firmly, "I want you to be my kid again. I only have you for the next year or so—and I'd rather you not go through senior year with this kind of burden on your shoulders. I'm proud of what you've done. I'm proud of what we've all done, but now is the time for you to live your life. I want you to be **happy**, muffin-head."

Sam blinked furiously and bit his lip. His cheeks were bright red and Jeff could tell that his son was on the verge of crying.

"I _do_ miss being a teenager," Sam admitted—his voice cracking halfway through and Jeff heard Lynn let out a whimper beside him. He glanced over in her direction and had to laugh slightly when he saw that she was already crying buckets.

She hit him in the chest. "Don't—make fun," she said through her tears. Jeff chuckled and kissed her forehead before slinging an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side.

"Come here kid," Jeff said—stretching an arm out to Sam. Blushing, Sam walked into the three way hug and Jeff could feel it when Sam started crying.

He hugged his kid hard and he saw Lynn's small hand rub the back of Sam's shoulders.

They stood there for a long time—just comforting each other. Jeff felt more at home than he'd ever felt in his life. And it was the best feeling in the world.

* * *

><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! :D And yes, some serious shit is going to happen in the next chapter. I can't wait to write it and post it and just see the reactions. LOL. I hope you enjoyed my correction of Sam's return scene from Season 3. ;P<strong>


	32. Broken Bridges

DISCLAIMER: On First Chapter.

Make sure that you pay attention to the dates/times in this one. It has a two-day time jump after the first section! Hope you enjoy it! :D

* * *

><p><strong>May 23, 2011 (Tuesday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**9:14AM**

It was a perfect day. The sun was shining, but it wasn't overly warm. The air was crisp and clean—it the best weather Jeff had seen in a long time.

He'd be damned if they all spent it inside the house.

"I think we should go outside and do something," he declared as he walked into the kitchen where Lynn was washing the breakfast dishes. She glanced over her shoulder at him—hazel eyes twinkling in amusement.

"Like what?" she asked. Jeff eyed the plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the counter next to her and figured that he could_ maybe_ snatch one. "Wha—_hey!_ I don't think so!" Lynn slapped the top of his hand when he reached for the chocolate goodies.

Jeff pulled away with a pout and she laughed.

"I made those to go with _lunch_," she said sternly as she rinsed the last plate in the sink and put it into the dishwasher.

"It's after breakfast, so technically it's almost lunch time."

"It's nine in the morning and we ate breakfast like ten minutes ago!" Lynn replied with a sarcastic quirk of the lips. "I can't believe you're already thinking about the next meal."

"It's your fault for baking cookies right after breakfast," Jeff responded—watching as Lynn dried her hands on a towel.

"It's your fault that you have a bottomless pit for a stomach," Lynn told him as she lifted the plate of cookies and put them one-by-one into the cookie jar.

"Stop cooking so well and then maybe I wouldn't eat so much!"

"You'd eat anything I put in front of you," Lynn joked, "You're like a human garbage disposal. The only one worse is Sam!"

"Don't hate because the Evans' family likes to eat," he replied. Lynn snorted and put the lid on the cookie jar. She walked over to Jeff and handed him the empty plate.

"Lick the melted chocolate off if you'd like," Lynn told him and Jeff tried really hard not to take that as a double entendre. _He'd like to lick the melted chocolate alright_.

It was cruel and unusual to have her looking at him like that. Her short hair pinned back. Her hazel eyes alight with mischief and those darn pearl earrings in her ears again.

_By golly, Lynn was a beautiful woman. _

With a wink, Jeff took the plate from her hands and licked every spot of melted chocolate off the surface. He hoped that it wasn't his mind playing games when he saw her eyes darken. Jeff knew he needed to stop when she bit her bottom lip.

They were playing with fire—stepping back would be a good life choice.

But her eyes were so _powerful _and he would never get enough of looking into them—the looks they were sharing should be illegal. Jeff hadn't felt this hot and bothered in a long time.

It did not bode well for him.

Finished with his impromptu dessert, Jeff turned away from Lynn slowly—finally breaking eye contact when he moved to rinse the dish off. He heard Lynn's soft gasp from behind him and he had to take a moment to recover himself.

He was a _married _man. He was filing for a divorce, but he was still a **married **man—and he couldn't cheat. He would never stoop to that level.

Jeff put the dish in the dishwasher and as he made to turn back around—he spotted the cars in the driveway. They were filthy.

"What if we washed the cars?" he asked suddenly—completely removing the potential awkwardness from what had just happened by changing the subject.

"What?" Lynn questioned the look on her face bewildered.

"We can wash the cars today," Jeff replied—liking the idea more and more. "That way we'll be productive _and_ we'll have some fun in the sun."

Lynn let out a laugh at that statement. "It sounds great, but can you please never say 'fun in the sun' **ever **again?"

"I thought that was the hip thing to say!" Jeff protested as he followed a snickering Lynn out of the kitchen.

"Yeah," Lynn tossed back over her shoulder, "If you're in a Mary-Kate and Ashley movie."

"That was just uncalled for!" Jeff said—his tone playfully indignant.

"True friends are honest with each other!"

"Oh, just go put on a bathing suit!"

He could hear Lynn laughing as she went all the way upstairs. He rolled his eyes in exasperation, before yelling, "Kids! Put on your swim suits! We're gonna have a carwash!"

There were twin shouts of joy and a hollered, "Okay!" from Sam that had Jeff chuckling. He made his way upstairs too—_where were his swim trunks again?_

"Lynn! Which drawer did you put my bathing suit in?" he asked as he walked into his room.

"How am I supposed to know?"

"You're the one who did all the laundry and put them away that first week we got here! I haven't exactly worn them since." Jeff stuck his head out of his door at the same moment that Lynn poked her head out of her doorway.

"Well, might I suggest you look in that thing called a dresser?" she sassed. "Good place to start."

"It's faster if you just tell me," Jeff said.

"It's _better_ if you just look."

They stared each other down, before Jeff sighed. "You're going to make me look, aren't you?"

"Is my name Lynnette?" she asked—her tone teasing and amused.

Jeff stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed. Lynn sent him a wink before disappearing into her bedroom and shutting the door. Jeff chuckled under his breath and went on the hunt for his swim trunks.

By the time he was dressed in his dark blue board shorts, Sam, Stacey, and Stevie were already downstairs waiting. Stacey looked adorable in her floral print one piece with ruffles on the sides. Sam had on a pair of green and white board shirts whereas Stevie's were orange and black.

"You guys put on sunscreen?" Jeff asked as he lifted Stacey onto his hip.

"Yes, daddy!" she answered, her arms hanging loosely around his neck. "Where's Lynn?" she asked.

"Probably being a crazy lady and taking forever to get dressed," he replied, making Stacey giggle.

"I heard that Jeffrey!" Lynn called down the stairs. She didn't sound like she was in her room though. Sam laughed at the contrite expression that took over Jeff's face.

"We're going to go get started outside!" he yelled back to her, before motioning the kids outside. Stevie and Sam instantly walked towards the door—which ended up being a race, of course. They practically toppled over each other to get outside.

"Okay!" Lynn answered, "I'll be out in a minute."

"A _real_ minute, right?" Jeff asked, "Not the minute that actually means a year?"

"Jeffrey!" Lynn replied—she sounded both amused and exasperated. Jeff and Stacey shared a laugh before he carried her outside into the sunshine. Sam and Stevie were already in the process of filling buckets for them to wash the cars with. He put Stacey down and she ran over to help the boys.

Jeff walked down the stairs, ready to go help them when the door opened behind him and Lynn walked out of the house—a stack of towels in front of her face.

Jeff thought it perverted, but Lynn was wearing a bikini and she was bending over to place the towels on the patio table—_holy shit._

Her ass was perfection.

She was wearing a conservative bikini—boy shorts and a halter. They were lilac and had a soft shimmer to them that Jeff found ridiculously attractive. The fabric molded to her skin and Lynn had some sexy legs on her.

When she turned around—he wasn't sure that he could find anything that wasn't attractive. Her abs were lightly defined and her quads were just amazing. Her chest made it painfully hard to concentrate.

_Was it even legal to be this attracted to someone?_

He'd thought that lace dress she wore a couple of weeks ago was hot, but _this_—this was taking the cake. He could feel his face getting warm as he stared at her. It took everything within him to tear his eyes off her body.

Lynn was blushing too. Why she was blushing, he didn't know, but damn—he needed to wash some cars now.

"Uh," Jeff stammered, before clearing his throat. "I'm gonna go help the kids." He tried to walk away nonchalantly, but he tripped over his own feet. Jeff saw the amusement flare in her hazel eyes and he just made himself walk away—that was smooth.

He could've slapped himself.

When he glanced over at her again, she was taking pictures of them all; a soft smile on her face. He grinned at her and she gave him a look over the top of her camera. Jeff opened his mouth to say something when he was abruptly doused in ice cold water from three different directions.

The look on his face had to be priceless because Lynn snapped a picture before she burst out laughing.

"You're all going down for that!" Jeff cried, before picking up the hose and spraying all three of them. It turned into all out chaos not seconds later. Soapy sponges were thrown and there was a wrestling match for the hose.

"Lynn, help!" Stacey squealed as Jeff sprayed her down with a war cry.

Stevie was distracted by Sam tossing rapid fire soap rags in his direction. Jeff was feeling like a champ, before he was blindsided by Lynn leaping onto his back.

"Get the hose, Stacey!" she called and Stacey attacked. Jeff dropped the hose and focused on the woman clutching him with her legs and arms. He had to focus on anything and everything besides the feeling of her warm skin—slick and soft against his. So he spun them around in circles. Lynn screamed when he reached back to tickle her sides.

Stacey started spraying Jeff in the face and Lynn was laughing—her hair dripping wet and water was everywhere.

Lynn finally dropped off his back when the sprinklers turned on. "You forgot to turn off the sprinklers, Jeff?" she asked over the sound of water and his kids' laughter.

"I didn't think about it!" Jeff responded and Lynn threw her head back, laughing.

Their conversation ended when Lynn pulled a soaked sponge out of nowhere and tossed it right at Jeff's head. It hit him in the face and she shot him the biggest troll face he'd ever seen. But he still thought it was beautiful.

Lynn ran when he chased her with a sponge in hand. It was complete water war and no one was safe. Stacey turned against Lynn and Stevie teamed up with Sam against Jeff. The cars didn't get washed—it ended up being an hour of ridiculous antics between all five of them.

Lynn's short hair was stuck to her face and ringlets were forming. She was soaked and the water only highlighted every muscle on her body. She looked stunning when she lifted Stacey into her arms and they spun around in circles together under the sprinklers.

Somehow, Lynn started belting "You Keep Me Hangin' On" and it turned into a water dance party. Jeff couldn't help but lift her into his arms in a fireman's carry and twirl them around in a circle. She laughed the whole way around and laughed some more when he placed her back on the ground—her back to his chest.

They stood there for a moment—just watching Sam, Stevie, and Stacey play around with the hose and pour buckets of water onto each other.

Lynn looked up at him over her shoulder and the world stopped for a moment.

Everything _important_ was in Lynn's dancing hazel eyes. Her long lashes with water droplets clinging to them just added to her beauty. She looked _flawless_—her skin smooth and soft and chocolate. Her hair was a mess of wet curls that stuck to her forehead and face and her neck.

He'd never wanted to kiss her more than he did in that moment.

Jeff dropped his forehead onto hers and let their eyes say everything that he couldn't. The understanding that blossomed in her irises set his heart on fire and he pulled her closer. Eyes closed, Jeff felt it when her hand reached up and cupped his cheek. Her fingers trailed behind his ear and along the line of his jaw.

Jeff would be lying if he said that he didn't press a lingering kiss to her fingertips when they brushed across his mouth. His face was warm and her touch left what felt like a trail of lightning across his skin.

He opened his eyes a moment later—his lips still pressed against her fingertips. Hazel met blue and Jeff smiled when a bright grin crossed her face. The wonder and love he saw in her eyes made his heart swell in joy.

For now though; it was all that he needed.

They parted and Lynn ran over to the kids again—swinging Stevie into her arms with a battle cry. Jeff laughed before joining them by grabbing Sam in a headlock. This led to another wrestling match, which Sam only won because the grass was slippery.

Their morning was full of laughter, screams, cold water and soap suds—in other words, they were all a soaked mess at the end, but Lynn set the timer on the camera and they all took a picture together. Stevie was on Sam's shoulders. Stacey was on Lynn's hip and Jeff stood in the middle.

They looked like a family. _They were a family_.

* * *

><p><strong>May 25, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**10:27AM**

Lynn had gone to work. Stevie and Stacey were spending the day at Delia's house and staying the night as well. Sam was at the Pizza Parlor—but he was only working until noon and then he said something about hanging out with Mercedes, Mike, Artie, and Tina at Mike's house. So he'd be gone for awhile as well.

Jeff had the house to himself for the foreseeable future. He'd purposely planned it to be that way. No matter how much he wanted it to be otherwise, he knew that he wasn't going to react well to this phone call.

The phone was taunting him by just sitting there—the number pad glowing and the screen lit. He'd been going back and forth between dialing numbers and then ending the call before it could even begin.

For a year, Jeff had lived with the misery that was his crumbling marriage. The disintegration had come so quickly that he hadn't had time to prepare for it or even realize what was happening.

And now he was on his last chance—the last leg he had to stand on. His wife had been gone for almost two months now, and the pain was like a festering wound; numb at times and then sometimes it was so agonizing that he had to fight to keep the tears at bay.

No one he'd called so far—practically everyone who'd been in their lives—had seen or heard from Elizabeth. They didn't know anything and with each day, that pit in the bottom of his stomach grew wider and wider. He'd known that this day would come. Of course, he prayed that he wouldn't have to do this, but Jeff had felt it the moment she disappeared.

He knew he was going to have to face _him._

The man that had ruined his marriage, his life, his kids' lives, and Jeff knew that this day was rapidly approaching. And here he was—with no other choice left to him. The courts were still taking forever on approving his requests. Their family and friends were just as clueless as he was.

Now, Jeff would have to face his worst nightmare—the one person on the face of the planet that he couldn't bear to think about anymore. He was going to have to call him and ask for his help.

The twisting of his heart was already starting. He could feel that old hurt being dragged back to the surface—more powerful and poignant than ever. He'd avoided this for so long, and it was Elizabeth's fault that he was going to have to sacrifice his time, his emotions because she'd given him no other choice.

Jeff stared at the paper in his hand. His name was committed to memory. Every moment of friendship that they shared was tainted with a hatred and resentment so powerful that it made Jeff feel disgusting inside.

**Christopher Wilkinson**, the paper read. The name made his insides twist. But he had to do it. He had to find her so he could end this torment forever. And he'd have to go through Chris to get there.

Clenching his jaw, Jeff glanced at the picture on his desk and the tears rushed to his eyes before he could stop them. It was the picture of Sam, Stevie, and Stacey sleeping in that old motel bed. Remembering how heartbroken they'd been made him realize that he had to do this for them.

They didn't deserve to have that constant fear in the back of their minds. They needed _closure_. And if _**he **_had to hurt to stop them from feeling pain, then he would do it. His kids were his everything—they were his life.

The paper crumpled slightly in his hand as he leaned forward to grab the phone. Eyes fluttering closed briefly, Jeff sucked in a shaky breath before he dialed the number from memory. He didn't even have to look at the paper to know the digits—it had been called so many times before.

The phone rang once, then twice, and a third time—when it started on the fourth, Jeff almost hung up but then the line clicked and he heard, "Hello?"

His heart clenched in his chest. He knew that voice. He'd grown up with that voice—when it was squeaky as a child and crackly during puberty. He could identify that voice in every stage of life.

"Uh, is anyone there?" The man on the other end asked.

And Jeff shook himself out of his stupor. "Chris?" he asked, his voice gruff.

There was a heavy silence on the other end and Jeff knew that Chris recognized him. He just knew it with every fiber of his being.

"_Jeff?"_ Chris questioned—the disbelief apparent in his tone. "Jeffrey Evans?"

"I'm surprised you remember me," Jeff said and he heard Chris swallow hard.

"We grew up together," Chris answered, "It's hard to forget about someone you've known your whole life." The rage was sudden. Chris had some nerve talking about how hard it was to forget someone. Where were those memories when he put his hands on Elizabeth?

"It's not hard to forget they're married when you fuck their wife though," Jeff snapped and Chris let out a sound of shocked discomfort.

Jeff felt like an asshole of the highest caliber. Chris _deserved_ his anger. He deserved to feel the same kind of pain that he'd caused Jeff, but making Chris hurt didn't make Jeff feel better—it only made him feel dirty.

"Jeff—"Chris began, but Jeff let out an explosive breath.

"_No,"_Jeff said, "I shouldn't have said that."

"You had every right to blow up at me," Chris replied. "I did you wrong."

Jeff had been waiting to hear an admission like that for months. The actual thing felt hollow and it didn't sooth any of his anger. That fact was disquieting. Pressing his palms to his eyes, Jeff fought down his emotions.

"I don't want to talk about this," he said, "I just need to know one thing."

"Anything," Chris replied, his tone subdued and incredibly guilty.

"Do you have any idea of where Elizabeth is?" Jeff asked. He prayed for a negative answer. He begged God to have Chris respond with a no. But the thick silence on the other end of the line broke his heart all over again.

_God, please don't let her have run to him. Just please._

"Yes," Chris said slowly. "She came here about three weeks ago—"

"She went back to you," Jeff whispered. His whole body felt heavy. He didn't know why he was surprised by this, but why? _Why would she do that?_ "She left her kids alone in a motel room and went back to _you_?"

"_God_, Jeff," Chris responded, "I sent her packing as soon as she told me what had happened—"

"She still fucking went to you, Chris!" Jeff growled. His hand balled into a fist and he banged the top of the desk in a fit of enraged hurt. "She didn't want any more of me so she went to you! She abandoned our children in a motel room and went to you!"

Angrier than he'd ever been, Jeff tightened his hand around the phone. "Is she still there?"

"No!" Chris said immediately. "I kicked her out once she told me what she did—I swear."

"Your word doesn't mean much," Jeff said—his tone dripping with derision. "Your promises lost all value to me twelve or so months ago. _Remember that?_ When you dicked around with my wife?"

"What do you want me to say, Jeff?" Chris asked. He sounded tired. Jeff was filled with animosity—Chris didn't have any right to feel tired. He hadn't lost anything.

_What did he care that he'd torn apart his ex-best friend's life? _

"Do you know where she is?" Jeff questioned.

"I wish I could tell you, but when I kicked her out; I didn't exactly ask any questions."

"Well this has been a great waste of my time," Jeff told him bitterly. "Thank you for nothing."

"I know it probably won't do you any good, Jeff," Chris said, "but I really am sorry for what I did."

The apology was something he'd wanted and just like Chris' other words—they did nothing to sooth the pain that was tearing at his insides.

"You're right," Jeff answered quietly; "It does me no good."

And then he clicked the end button on the phone.

Not that ending the phone call took away the rawness of his heart—in fact, it heightened it. A whole piece of his life—_his history_ had just been ripped away in the most brutal way possible. He felt incomplete and tarnished.

His best friend—_his brother_ had been the one to cheat with his wife.

_How could he have done that? _

Jeff didn't understand. He was past wanting to understand—he needed it. But he knew that it would probably never happen, because he couldn't get beyond the absolute rage he felt.

It crawled up his spine like a cancer—oozing and multiplying and filling him with hate. He detested feeling so angry, but it was so hard to let go. Rage was easier to deal with than pain, and the day that he broke apart—Jeff was going to shatter.

Furious, he stood out of his seat; the movement so harsh that he knocked over his chair. With a sound of uncontrolled rage, Jeff chucked his phone at the wall. It impacted with the hard surface and in a sudden explosion of splintered glass and hard plastic—it made a loud cracking sound as it fell to the floor.

Chest heaving and his heart pounding behind his ribcage, Jeff gripped his hair with both hands—trying to control everything he was feeling inside. It was too much. The pain of Elizabeth was enough to drive him to depression, but his feelings about Chris were close to the surface and it intensified every emotion he was experiencing.

He needed it to stop. He needed to do something that would take his mind away from the shit hole that his heart had fallen into. Mind made up, Jeff slammed out of his bedroom and went down to the kitchen.

He grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels from the liquor cabinet and took a large swig straight from the bottle. The alcohol burned a trail of liquid fire across his tongue and throat, but he swallowed it anyway.

The tears filling his eyes was because the alcohol hurt—it wasn't because he felt like his soul was being torn apart.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the betrayal and worthlessness he was feeling. Absolutely nothing, he tried to convince himself before he lifted the bottle to his mouth and took another drink.

_Absolutely nothing at all._

* * *

><p><strong>May 25, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**The Hudson-Hummel House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**11:43AM**

Mercedes didn't know what she was expecting when she pulled into the Hudson-Hummel driveway. All she knew was that she wanted to fix the broken bridge between her and Kurt. It had been almost a week since she'd talked to him.

She hadn't exactly received multiple calls from his end, but someone had to try and mend things. It would never be repaired if one of them didn't step up to the plate and make an attempt.

The only reason she'd actually worked up the courage to come over here was because Sam said that he was coming over here after he got off work to pick up his jacket from Finn. Apparently, he'd left it over here during one of the guy get-togethers they'd had the last couple of months of school.

So she agreed to meet him here, because she did need to talk to Kurt after all.

Maybe today hadn't been a good idea though. She had seen Blaine's car enough times to recognize it as the vehicle parked in the Hudson-Hummel parking lot behind Kurt's truck and beside Finn's pickup.

It looked like everyone was home, and Mercedes decided that it was now or never. She parked alongside the street and got out of her car. She made her way across the lawn—the soft grass tickling the tops of her feet over the straps of her bronze gladiator sandals.

She walked up the steps and took a moment to breathe before she pressed the doorbell. The sound of bells rang through the house and she heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming towards the door.

"I've got it, mom!" She knew it was Finn before he even opened the door. He blinked when he saw her standing there, but then he gave her a lopsided smile. "Mercy!" he said, opening his arms to her for a hug.

She was surprised, but she stepped into the friendly embrace. Finn let her inside and closed the door behind her. "Goddess, what are you doing here?" he questioned with a wink that just looked awkward. Mercedes laughed.

"Finn, I am _not _a goddess," she told him.

"You're _my _goddess," Finn corrected, "So you can't say that anymore."

She shook her head in his direction, but let it go. "Is Kurt here?" she asked and Finn nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "Let me go get him real quick."

Finn jogged down the hallway—his long arms moving by his side and Mercedes walked into the living room, placing her bag down on the chair. The Hudson-Hummel house was usually so warm and full of love. Coming here had been one of her favorite things to do before she and Kurt grew distant.

Now, it felt like she was out of place—as though she didn't belong.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mercedes spotted a picture of her and Kurt from sophomore year. They both had huge smiles on their faces and they were wearing their Cheerio uniforms. _What had happened to that? _She really missed her best friend.

Mercedes was distracted by Finn lumbering back into the room, Kurt on his heels and Blaine right behind him. She stared at him, then Blaine and then Finn, before she settled on Kurt's face.

He looked as nervous as she was, and she hoped that they could fix this. "Hi guys," Mercedes said with a half-hearted smile. She was taken aback when Blaine bounced forward and wrapped her up in a hug.

"Hi Mercedes!" he said, "It's lovely to see you again." His smile was genuine and he did seem happy to see her again. She hugged him back.

"You too, Blaine," she replied when he stepped away from her. The sudden silence in the room was awkward, and she could see Finn looking between them—a confused expression on his face.

"What's going on?" he asked slowly and Mercedes took a deep breath.

"Would you mind if I spoke to Kurt alone for a little while?" she questioned. Blaine shot her a concerned look, and gave another to his boyfriend. Finn looked even more confused but he nodded. Blaine practically dragged Finn out of the room after pecking Kurt on the cheek.

"Ugh, dude!" Finn complained, "Don't kiss my brother in front of me."

"That doesn't even count as a kiss, Finn," Blaine responded as they walked down the hallway and away from the living room.

"There was lip action going on," Finn replied, "It was kissing."

Their voices faded as they walked into the kitchen and Mercedes had to smile at their bickering. She turned her attention to Kurt though. He still hadn't said a word, and he was still on the opposite side of the room from her.

The distance between them felt like the Grand Canyon. But she shouldered forward—she wasn't going to leave their friendship in shambles like this.

"How are you?" she asked awkwardly. His silence was unnerving and he seemed just as uncomfortable as she was.

"I'm fine," he answered. "It's been nice not having to deal with school."

"Yeah," Mercedes said. The conversation died in the most awkward fashion—just like it had begun. They stared at each other, before Mercedes got fed up and threw her hands in the air.

"Are you going to even try and talk to me?" she asked. He hadn't made one move to repair their friendship—_not one._ But he thought he could stand there and make her emotionally grovel.

**Hell to the no. **

"What am I supposed to say?" Kurt retorted—an undercurrent of hostility in his voice. "You already said everything you needed to say at your party."

"What?" Mercedes asked incredulously. "I told you how I felt! I had every right to feel abandoned by you. The only difference is that this time—I didn't allow someone to stomp all over my feelings and then not make up for it."

Yet, somehow—_she_ was the one over here; initiating the conversation. She was always the one who had to rebuild the damaged area. The only one who had stopped taking her for granted and apologized for her mistakes was Quinn.

Kurt's brow furrowed. "Your accusations were unreasonable. Why should I be responsible for apologizing?"

"_Unreasonable?"_ Mercedes repeated, disbelieving. "I was wrong for bringing Blaine into the argument, yes, but nothing else I said was unreasonable."

"Everything you said was off kilter, "Kurt protested—stepping closer as his face turned red. Mercedes saw Blaine and Finn peek out of the kitchen doorway as their voices got louder. "I was asking you a question and you just_ blew_ up at me!"

"You think I didn't have a reason for getting mad?" Mercedes shot back—her voice crackling with anger.

By this point, Finn and Blaine had come back to the living room—the two of them looking worried and shocked by the argument going on in the room.

"Hey, maybe you guys should calm down," Finn suggested, but Kurt shot him a glare that made him shrink back momentarily.

"I have every reason for getting mad!" Mercedes told him. Her voice was hard enough to cut glass and she saw Blaine wince at the same time that Kurt's hands balled into a fist. Her heart was racing—she was so mad. "You treated our friendship like dollar store toilet paper—cheap enough to buy and discard whenever the hell you feel like it."

"I have not once said something like that," Kurt responded loudly.

"You didn't have to," Mercedes cracked—her arm motioning furiously in his direction. "Your actions said everything that I needed to hear."

"So what?" Kurt replied in exasperation—tossing his hands in the air. "We didn't hang out for a few days—"

"Days?" Mercedes said, "Try _months!_ You came back from Dalton and seemed to forget all about me in the wake of Blaine's serenade—something that I helped put together for you!"

"What's going on in here?" Ms. Carol asked as she made her way into the living room; Burt not five feet behind her. Blaine and Finn looked at her helplessly, but Kurt and Mercedes were on a roll—the emotions that had been building between them was on the verge of exploding and there was nothing strong enough to bring her back from the edge.

"I've hung out with you in the past few months. What about the sleepover before prom?" Kurt asked.

"You barely acknowledged me, Kurt," Mercedes said, "You had lots of advice for the girls with boyfriends, yet you know well enough that I was the only one there not in a relationship. Which is why I sat there in silence and at the time, I wasn't speaking to Quinn either, but she was there too. So I don't agree that it counts as hanging out with me."

"Like I said—_unreasonable_!" Kurt retorted, "You tell me that I don't hang out with you, but group stuff doesn't count."

"You haven't spent one hour alone with me since you got back," Mercedes told him harshly. "Where were you when I needed you during prom week? Who did you traipse around New York with?"

"So I can't have other friends—"

"I don't give a crap about you having other friends! You ditched me for _Rachel_!" Mercedes snapped. "_**Rachel fucking Berry**_! The one person you claimed to_ detest_ for over a year! How am I supposed to just get over that?"

The anger in the room was palpable. Mercedes' eyes were full of tears, but she didn't take her eyes off Kurt. His cheeks were flushed and his whole body was tense. He looked just as pissed off as she felt.

"I think we should take a minute to calm down before someone says something that they'll regret—"Burt started speaking, but Kurt talked over him.

"People _change,_ Mercedes. It wasn't fair of you to ignore that possibility!"

"No one is ignoring the fact that people _can_ change, but Rachel has been just as insufferable this year as she was last year. The difference is that she has a powerful interest in walking all over people to get to New York and you seem to have adopted that same outlook."

"What are you talking about—"

"Guys, stop—"

"You used to be _noble_, Kurt! You used to have some type of standards, but now—you're just as selfish as she is!" Mercedes was fired up. "You've turned into this preachy, self-righteous, cry-baby who's so deluded by his own _bullshit_ that you can't see what the hell you're doing to the people you call friends!"

"**Excuse me**? I'm _preachy_ and self-righteous?"

"The things you've said to me have torn me apart and you don't give a damn! _You still don't!"_ Mercedes retorted, "And have you even listened to half the crap that Rachel says to people?"

"She's just confident—"

"_No!_ There's a difference between confidence and cockiness and she's long past that," Mercedes shot back, "There was a time when you knew what that difference was."

"I was a lonely teen back then."

"Kurt, you're a lonely teenager now," Mercedes said, "Who do you hang out with on a daily basis besides Rachel and Blaine? You're so consumed in her bullshit that you can't see how your attitude affects people. The two of you are always talking about Broadway—"

"That's what I want to do with my life!" Kurt responded heatedly. "And I hang out with my boyfriend because _I love him_. You would know what that felt like if you had _anybody_ who was interested!"

His words were like a slap to the face. Ms. Carol's jaw dropped in shock and Finn's expression of upset disappeared. He'd been pissed at the badmouthing that was going on about Rachel, but as soon as Kurt's words registered—shock replaced the anger.

Blaine looked horrified as he stared at his boyfriend and Burt just looked supremely uncomfortable and disappointed.

Kurt froze as soon as he realized what he'd just said and his expression melted into contrition.

"Mercedes—"

"Don't," she told him—her voice was heavy with tears and her eyes were burning. The pain radiated from her heart and everything just felt—_numb._ "Just don't."

"I didn't mean that—"

"You don't_ mean_ a lot of things," she said—her voice sharp. "You didn't _mean_ to ignore me. You didn't_ mean_ to hurt my feelings. You didn't _mean _to leave me behind. A lot of people claim that they don't mean something—but if you said it; some part of you has been thinking it."

"Merced—"

"_Stop!"_ she shouted, "Just stop fucking talking! You've done quite enough." She grabbed her bag off the chair and turned to leave.

"So, you're just going to walk out?" Kurt asked, "You're going to drop two years of friendship?"

"You have some nerve!" she snapped, "_**I **_didn't drop anything! You're the one who conveniently forgot that I existed! I was wrong for not saying anything sooner, so this is partially my fault as well—"

"Finally, you admit that you were wrong too!"

The look of outraged disbelief Mercedes shot him made Kurt stop in his tracks. "You were waiting for me to admit that I was wrong so you'd have some point to argue with?"

Kurt's silence spoke volumes. The silence in the room was heavier than ever and Mercedes couldn't stop the tears from falling. She'd held them at bay this long, but he'd just broken the last of her strength.

The revulsion she felt was strong. She didn't even want to be friends with Kurt at this point. He'd changed into a male version of Rachel and she could barely handle one of those. Whatever they'd had two years ago was obviously over. Their bridge wasn't just broken—it felt collapsed on the ground and disintegrated.

The realization hit her like a solid punch to the gut. Kurt was never going to be her best friend again. Too much had been said—on both their parts—and that chasm between them wasn't going anywhere; anytime soon.

"You _disgust _me," Mercedes whispered before she opened the door and left—slamming it shut behind her.

She stormed down the steps; stumbling over the last one and cussing out loud when she fell. Tears all over her face, and gasping—she knew she looked a hot mess. When she heard the door open behind her, she scrambled to get herself off the ground.

She didn't want to talk to anyone right now.

"Mercedes, wait!" She heard Kurt's voice, but she ignored him as she stalked towards her car—digging around in her bag to find her keys. "Mercy, please stop!"

The sincerity and shame in his voice had her freezing. She let her bag drop to her side as she turned to face him.

"What do you want now?" she asked—her voice cracking. "Got something else you've been wanting to say?"

"No!" Kurt protested. She saw Blaine, Finn, Burt and Carol walk out of the house and stand on the porch—probably watching to make sure that they didn't get out of hand again. "I really didn't mean what I said. I was just so mad—"

Their conversation was interrupted by Sam's truck pulling up behind Mercedes' truck. He parked and hopped out. She saw it the moment he noticed something was wrong, because the smile on his face dropped and he hurried towards her.

Mercedes stepped away from Kurt to meet Sam and the concern in his green eyes soothed some of the hurt she was feeling.

"Sam—"

"Why are you crying?" he asked as his hand cupped her face. She felt it when his thumb brushed away part of the tear tracks on her cheek.

"I'm fine—"

"Obviously, you aren't," Sam replied, his voice hard. "Who made you cry—"Sam's sentence ended abruptly and she saw his gaze focus in on Kurt. The rage that flashed across his face startled her, and she barely had the sense of mind to grab him when he made a wild lunge at Kurt.

"Who the_ fuck_ do you think you are?" Sam growled as he made his way towards Kurt.

Eyes wide with shock, Mercedes clutched the fabric of his t-shirt as he tried to throw himself at the wide-eyed brunet standing not two feet away from Sam's fist.

"_Sam!_ Calm down!" Mercedes yelled as she dragged him backwards, but she could barely move him. Her boyfriend was strong as hell. "Finn, help me!"

Finn and Blaine rushed over as soon as Sam broke free of Mercedes' grasp. "I don't know who you think you are, but _nobody _hurts Mercedes!"

"Dude, what the **hell**—"

"_Sam, stop!"_

"I will beat the shit out of you if you even think about touching my boyfriend!"

"—_defended_ you to her the other day, but you're just going to make her cry?"

Finn had his arms clamped around Sam's waist, but the blond was still cussing up a storm. Mercedes didn't know what to do. She knew that Sam wouldn't be happy about her crying, but she hadn't expected his protective streak to rear its head like that.

Kurt looked pale and terrified as he stood behind Blaine, who was yelling right back at Sam. Blaine being angry just seemed to piss Sam off even more, and he managed to break free from Finn. Blaine shoved Sam, and Sam shoved him back hard.

"Blaine, _stop!"_

"**Sam!"**

Finn couldn't get a good grip on Sam again, and the blond boy was rushed by Blaine. He went down in the grass hard, and Mercedes screamed as Finn dragged her out of the way.

"Stop, guys, _stop it_!"

"Blaine, let him go!"

"_Sam, don't hit him!"_

Sam and Blaine were yelling before Sam pushed Blaine off him and reversed their positions. He was about to throw a punch before he was blindsided by Finn.

Finn literally tackled Sam into the grass and then the brawl really started. All five of them were yelling at each other. Mercedes was screaming at Finn and Sam to stop hitting each other. Kurt was hollering at Blaine about fighting and trying to tell Finn to let Sam go. It only stopped when Burt got into the middle of the fight and lifted Sam and Finn by the hair. Both of them winced in pain.

"I don't know what the hell is going on here," Burt said firmly, "but it ends right here and right now." He looked each of them in the eye before saying, "Take your asses into the house, and I don't want to hear a damn word out of any of you."

* * *

><p><strong>May 25, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**The Hudson-Hummel House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**12:33PM**

The atmosphere in the room was tense to say the least. Finn was pissed at Mercedes for badmouthing Rachel, and pissed at Kurt for talking to Mercedes the way he had. The bruise blossoming across his temple didn't help his demeanor much.

Blaine was mad as hell at Sam for trying to attack Kurt and he was angry at Kurt and Mercedes for yelling instead of talking. Sam was still spitting nails over the fact that Kurt made Mercedes cry and he was mad at Finn for blindsiding him.

He had a black eye—_again_—and he could feel a bruise growing along his side and across his back from where he'd hit the ground. Kurt was mad at himself for saying what he did to Mercedes and upset that Sam, Finn, and Blaine had gotten into a brawl.

Mercedes was pissed at them all—Blaine and Finn for getting involved where they had no place and at Sam for jumping into her personal battle with his fists swinging. She was ticked at Kurt because of the things he'd said, but she was also mad at herself, because she had been wrong with some of the things she'd said too.

Ms. Carol came into the room and handed an icepack to each boy with a bruise. The look on her face was disappointed as she handed Mercedes a damp cloth to wipe her face off. Mercedes took it with a grateful look.

She cleaned her face of tear tracks as Ms. Carol sat down on the loveseat next to Burt.

"Alright," Burt said, "We're going to work this out right now. Mercedes, start talking—and _only _Mercedes. I don't want to hear a word from anyone else until she's completely done. Do you understand me?"

There were various nods from around the room. Mercedes saw it when Sam winced as he gingerly put the icepack against the side of his eye. She put the cloth down in her lap and met Burt's eyes.

The whole story came spilling out. She explained about all of last year and how things had started falling apart with Karofsky and the constant bullying at McKinley. She told them all about how she felt when Quinn stopped talking to her and then Kurt just disappeared from her life. Every detail about how she'd felt abandoned and why came pouring out.

She was crying by the time she started talking about prom, and she was even more upset by the time she told them about New York and how it felt to have Kurt act like she didn't even exist.

Ms. Carol's eyes were watering and Kurt was crying by the time she was done. She couldn't even look at Sam, Finn, or Blaine—she could feel their concern without even glancing in their direction.

"Uh, Kurt—your turn, buddy," Burt told them once Mercedes finished. She had to wipe her face again by this point. And when Kurt opened up to them about the past year, she started crying again.

She'd known it was bad, but he had never told her all of it. By the time he finished, she was a mess, but she could understand more of what he'd done.

"Going to Dalton was like leaving hell and entering paradise," Kurt said, "I never meant to just drop you, Mercedes. I just got caught up in so much _perfection_ that I forgot about what was important—not only to me, but to my family."

Kurt looked her dead in the eye. "Rachel was _easy_. She fit right into that puzzle of my newer, happier life. She didn't challenge me—she didn't force me to think for myself or value something more than what society calls great. And you do that—it's not always simple to befriend someone who makes you do what's _right_ instead of what's easy."

"When I transferred back to McKinley, it was a wakeup call," Kurt told her. "One that I really didn't want. I'll admit that I clung to my friendship with Rachel because she was a piece of my puzzle while I was at Dalton, and I tried to hold onto the perfection I'd found there. Being your friend again—that would've been the end of a dream come true."

"So you avoided me?" Mercedes asked.

"It's hard to explain, but when you find happiness and peace—you never want to let it go."

"I understand, Kurt," Mercedes replied, "But happiness without true friendship is empty."

"I know," he responded, "I knew it then too. I just wasn't expecting you to open a can of whoop ass on me as soon as I tried to slip back into your life without apologizing for ignoring you."

"You took it too far," Mercedes said, "but so did I."

"I'm really sorry for those things I said, Mercy," Kurt told her—the tears in his eyes reflecting his sincerity and shame.

"I'm sorry too, Kurt."

They shared a weak smile and Burt nodded. "Blaine, you're up."

Blaine explained why he was so upset about Sam and how disappointed he was in Kurt for saying what he'd said to Mercedes. This succeeded in getting Sam's attention and the glare he shot Kurt could've burned through metal, but he didn't say a word.

Kurt shrunk back into his chair. Mercedes gave Sam the stink eye in response. When his eyes met hers, she shook her head at him. His jaw tightened but he sat back with an angry huff.

Sam didn't apologize just yet. He waited until after Finn had said his piece, before he started talking.

"I'm pissed at Kurt, because I know that he said something that hurt Mercedes. And I'm mad that I defended him to her after their first fight. No one makes my family cry and gets away with it," Sam said.

"Why do you get to go crazy over Mercedes, though?" Finn asked snidely, "She's my friend too, but you don't see me trying to punch some guy's lights out for making her cry."

"If someone made Rachel cry would you beat the shit out of him?"

"Yes," Finn replied. "But Rachel's my girlfriend. What does that have to do with you and Mercedes?"

The sharp look Mercedes shot Sam had him shutting his mouth abruptly. Mercedes glanced at Kurt from the corner of her eye and he mimed zipping his mouth shut. She gave him a grateful smile before looking away.

Sam sighed.

"Look, she's one of my closest friends. She was practically the main reason I got through everything going on with my family. Kurt helped, but not in the same way—and I'll do _anything _to protect my family."

Finn looked like Sam had grudgingly earned his forgiveness and respect with that statement. "Fine, but if you ever try to attack my brother again, I won't hold back."

"Like you were holding back anything this time, douche," Sam said. "Your punches are like love taps."

"Shut up," Finn replied as he shoved Sam's shoulder. Sam laughed as he fell over sideways on the couch. Finn cracked a smiled and held out a fist to the blond. "We cool?"

"We're cool," Sam said as they bumped fists. He winced when he sat up again and Mercedes shook her head in their direction. _Boys!_

It had taken them over two hours to talk everything out and apologize to everyone. They were forced into a group hug by Ms. Carol and Kurt hugged Mercedes tightly before she left with Sam.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Mercedes slapped Sam on the arm and walked down the stairs. He groaned loudly before following her to her vehicle.

"Oh, so you're mad at me now?"

"No, I've been mad at you since you showed up and threw yourself into a fight!"

"I'm not going to let someone hurt you and get away with it, Cede," Sam protested as she opened her truck door and tossed her bag into the passenger side of the vehicle. She swung around to face him and she could see the protective glint in Sam's green eyes.

"I'm not a damsel in distress, Sam," she told him, "I don't need you to fight my battles for me."

"I know you're not a damsel in distress," Sam replied, "but if you think for one second that I'm going to stand by while you get hurt—"

"People get hurt all the time—"

"I don't give a fuck about what other _people_ do, Mercedes," Sam exclaimed. His expletive stunned her momentarily. His body was tense and his green eyes were snapping with emotion. The black eye he had didn't take away from his attractiveness at all. She could finally understand what Quinn meant when she said that it was kind of hot.

"If Finn can protect Rachel and Blaine can protect Kurt, then why can't I protect you?" Sam asked, "I don't even know why you'd expect me to do anything _but _protect you."

"I don't want our relationship to be nothing but you defending my honor," Mercedes replied. "I can save myself."

"Yes, you can," Sam admitted, "but if you think that I'm not going to be right there to fight for you—then you're mistaken."

Sam crowded her against the side of the vehicle. His hands gripped her waist and he pulled her hips into his torso. The sudden contact was electrifying. And the hard expression on Sam's face was doing things to her heart that should be illegal. She could tell that he meant every word.

"I was raised to protect what I care about, Mercedes," he whispered, "It's a huge part of what my father taught me about how to be a man. I will not let you be hurt if there's something I can do about it."

"Sam," she breathed as he leaned forward and nuzzled his face into the side of her neck.

"Be mad at me for doing wrong," he told her softly, "Don't get pissed at me because I'm doing something that shows I care."

Mercedes' heart was on cloud nine. She knew that Sam cared, but no one had ever shown her such devotion before.

"Damn it," she cussed, "How am I supposed to be mad at you after that?"

Sam smiled against her skin, before lifting his head again. They looked at each other for a long moment. "I don't want you leaping into every disagreement I have with your fists flying," Mercedes told him and Sam rolled his eyes. "_I'm serious!_ I'm not used to having someone fight for me, and that's going to take time to get used to, but I'm going to need you to add some length to that fuse you've got or you're going to end up in jail."

She gave him a look full of sass that made Sam laugh. "And I don't date criminals," she teased, "Superheroes maybe, but definitely not criminals."

Sam smiled down at her, and Mercedes placed a hand on the back of his head to pull him down to her level. Their foreheads touched and Mercedes grinned at him.

"Forgive me?" he asked.

She didn't even answer verbally. She just pulled him into a sweet kiss—one that ended up being a lot hotter than she intended when Sam deepened their lip lock. Their lips moved together—their tongues twining. Sam's hands drifted from her waist and down to her hips. She felt her fingers tangle in the soft blond strands at the back of his head.

It was only when someone honked at them that they realized that they were getting a little bit X-rated in the middle of the street. Mercedes blushed furiously and hid her face in Sam's chest. Sam started laughing and waved to the car of college age boys as they drove past—whistling and catcalling. She glanced over his shoulder and laughed out of sheer embarrassment.

Sam looked down at her, his cheeks pink. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. She smiled up at him, before rising up on her toes to kiss him again.

Sam stepped back, and Mercedes saw him wince lightly as his side hit the door.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, "I'm just going to have quite the bruise."

"Let me see it," she told him and Sam shook his head.

"Cede, it's fine—"

"Samuel Evans!" she stated firmly and Sam sighed heavily.

He lifted the bottom of his shirt, and Mercedes had to force herself not to stare at his abs. She knew she'd been caught though because Sam was smirking at her. Rolling her eyes, Mercedes reached out and grasped his hips softly, before she made him turn to the side.

The area on his lower back and all along his left side was purpling in spots and the area looked slightly puffy and tender. He winced when she brushed her fingers across it.

"That looks painful," she told him and Sam shrugged as he dropped his shirt.

"I've had worse from football," Sam replied. "It'll be fine in a couple of days."

Mercedes was skeptical, but Sam didn't look too worried about it. "We should go," he told her. "We're already late for meeting up with Tina, Artie and Mike."

She had completely forgotten about that! She pulled Sam in for one last peck, before she climbed into her truck and buckled up.

"Meet you there?" she asked through the open window.

Sam nodded and walked towards his truck. Mercedes drove off down the street. When she pulled into Mike's driveway about fifteen minutes later, she got a text from Sam as he parked behind her.

_**I forgot my jacket again! Crap. **_

It was silly enough to make Mercedes' burst out laughing—especially when she glanced in her rearview mirror and saw Sam bang his head on the steering wheel of his truck.

* * *

><p><strong>May 25, 2011 (Thursday)<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**10:14PM**

Hellishly long didn't even begin to describe Lynn's day. She'd been at the shop since six in the morning and had left not ten minutes ago. She'd been interviewing potential employees since seven o'clock that morning and her brain felt like it was going to fall out of her head from exhaustion.

From her initial notes, Lynn had a good idea about who she wanted on her staff, but she'd go over her notes a couple of more times before making any hasty decisions. She'd also like to get Jeff's input on some stuff, but not tonight.

Tonight she just wanted to shower and fall into bed, because tomorrow was going to be a day full of reviewing notes, sending out emails and filling out new hire paperwork. Just thinking about it gave her a headache.

She walked inside the house, dropping her keys onto a hook and kicking her sandals off by the door. "Jeff?" she called as she walked down the hall. The house was silent and she wondered if he was asleep.

Making her way into the kitchen, Lynn's brow furrowed when she noticed that the door to the liquor cabinet was partially open. A gnawing feeling appeared in the pit of her stomach, and she peeked inside the cabinet—blinking when she realized that the entire bottle of Jack Daniels was gone.

Worried, Lynn walked around the first floor of the house; trying to find Jeff. He only drank when something was wrong—she knew him well enough to know that. And Sam wouldn't dare take it—if he did then he knew that his father would go insane.

Lynn stopped in her tracks when she thought about the place where Jeff seemed to like going if he had a lot on his mind. She turned around and hustled out into the backyard.

Lynn was unsurprised when she found him sitting by the Oak tree in the backyard—the bottle of Jack in his fingers and his legs were sprawled out over the ground. Jeff's head was hung and Lynn's heart filled with worry.

She'd seen him down and depressed and angry, but she'd never seen him so defeated. He'd seemed that way when he was sure that he and his kids would be homeless, but his posture was crumpled. He looked like he'd given up on everything—_including himself._

She hurried over to him. "Jeffrey?" she called as she knelt beside him. Lynn crawled on hands and knees to his side. She spotted Marley laying on Jeff's other side—the dog looked sad as could be.

"Darlin'," Lynn said softly, eyeing the bottle of Jack that was now three-fourths empty and the paleness of his face. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Jeff's eyes opened and Lynn had to choke down a gasp. They were red and puffy and his eyes looked _dull._ The pain she could see in his expression was crippling. She placed her hands on his cheeks as she moved closer to his side.

"Oh, Jeffrey," she whispered, before she took the bottle from his limp fingers. "What happened, sweetheart?"

"Lynn," Jeff said—his voice a wrecked croak. The sound was agonizing to Lynn's ears and even more detrimental to her heart. "What did—I do wrong?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" she replied, "You've done nothing wrong."

"'s not true!" Jeff exclaimed from his lax position. "'S not true."

"Why do you think you did something wrong?"

"'Cuz Liz-beth left me," he replied. "If I did nothin' wrong—why'd she leave? Why'd she take my heart and break it?"

Jeff lifted his arm and his hand fell on her wrist. His grip felt desperate and scared. "Why wasn't I enough, Lynn?" Jeff asked, "_Why?"_

"I don't know, darlin'," she admitted—her eyes filling with tears. Jeff stared at her for a moment, before his expression completely shattered. He tried to turn away from her, but Lynn wouldn't let him—she wouldn't let him suffer alone.

Jeff let out a sob when Lynn wouldn't let him go. She felt her heart break for him. He'd been holding this in for so long. Jeff had been wallowing in his anger for the past year and now that hurt had been thrown back into crystal clear focus. She was surprised that he hadn't broken before, but she wouldn't leave him.

_She'd never leave him._

Lynn pulled Jeff into her embrace and just held him as he sobbed—finally letting go of all his anger and letting himself feel the pain. She cried with him. She cried for him. She cried for all the pain he'd been feeling. And she cried out to God, because more than anything she wanted him to know happiness and find peace.

She wanted it all to be over. She didn't know how long they'd been out there, but she knew that he needed a bed. Jeff had to be exhausted and he was going to have a horrendous hangover in the morning.

Lynn managed to coax him to his feet—Jeff's arm slung over her shoulders and her arm around his waist. "Come on, Marley girl," she whispered as she held the partially empty alcohol bottle in her free hand. Lynn tossed the bottle in the trashcan before she opened the back door—Marley running inside the house.

Lynn got him over the threshold and shut the door behind them with one hand. She locked it before leading him to the staircase. She walked him upstairs; something that took forever because he kept stumbling over his own feet.

Lynn was too tired to go all the way down the hall to Jeff's room so she made a detour to hers. She led him inside, kicking the door shut behind her. With tired muscles, Lynn helped Jeffrey lay down on the bed.

She took off his shoes and wrestled his belt and jeans off his legs. Lynn was blushing the whole time—and when she saw that Jeff wore form-fitting boxer briefs she had to avert her eyes for a moment. Lynn knew he slept shirtless, so she helped him pull off his t-shirt.

Eventually though, Jeff was tucked under the covers about as comfortably as he was going to get.

She tip-toed over to her dresser and grabbed a fresh camisole, underwear and some sleep shorts.

As quietly as possible, Lynn showered, brushed her teeth, and got dressed in her bathroom. She shut off the lights and tried to walk out of her bedroom quickly so she wouldn't wake Jeff up.

She was almost to the door when he called out her name. "Lynn, that you?" he asked, his voice a tired slur. Lynn sighed but she made her way over to check on him.

"It's me, darlin'," she replied as she stood by his side. Jeff reached out and grabbed her hand—tugging her towards the bed. "Jeff, what are you doing?" The panic seized her heart. He wasn't going to do anything stupid, was he?

"Stay wit me," he said drunkenly—his voice bordering on a whine.

"_What?"_ she asked, "You need to rest, sweetheart."

"I know," Jeff replied, "but I—"

"You what?"

"I don't wanna be alone."

Her heart broke for him. The desperate need for comfort was shining in his green eyes and Lynn could never resist Jeff, especially not when she could see how much he was hurting. Knowing how much of her heart she was putting at stake here, Lynn let Jeff tug her into the bed.

She slid under the covers and was surprised when Jeff pulled her close—his arms wrapped around her waist. Lynn could feel his chest pressing warmly against her back. She could feel every heavy beat of his heart and she had to blink away fresh tears.

Laying here with him felt so right—she felt so secure and loved. It was heartbreaking, but perfectly so. Lynn placed her hand over Jeff's; their fingers entwining and she couldn't have imagined the kiss that he pressed to the back of her head.

She fell asleep in his arms—his soft breathing and steady heartbeat lulled her into a deep slumber. Neither of them had slept so contently in a long time.

* * *

><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until next time. :D<strong>


	33. My Fair Maiden

**DISCLAIMER: On first chapter.**

**Sorry about the long wait! This is the longest chapter I've ever written! Happy reading! :D**

* * *

><p><strong>May 26, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**Burt's Auto Shop**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:07AM**

Sam had been sitting in the cab of his truck long before Burt's Auto Shop opened for the day. He'd spent a lot of time last night mulling over the idea of working there and potentially being able to fix cars—something he was actually _good_ at.

Of course he had some concerns. The number one issue was that he'd almost beat the shit out of Burt's two sons not even twenty four hours ago. So, yeah—he was a bit iffy on the whole idea.

Drumming his fingers on the cracking leather of the steering wheel, Sam glanced at the shop. The store front was solid glass windows and he could see employees milling around between metal ramps and racks full of car maintenance products.

The glare of the sun was too sharp for him to distinguish facial features from where he was, but he knew Mr. Hummel was inside. Sam had seen the man drive up earlier this morning. Now, it was just a matter of actually getting_ out_ of his truck and asking for an application.

He sat in the cab of his truck, biting his lip anxiously and debating with himself. It would be a good decision if he applied to work at the auto shop. He knew cars and he wasn't sure how much more of that pungent pizza scent he would be able to handle.

Sam was sure that Burt would pay better too, but would the man be willing to hear him out after the fight that had broken out yesterday? It wasn't his fault that Kurt had been a jackass to Mercedes, but maybe he shouldn't have lost his cool—_what the hell was he saying?_ Kurt would've deserved every punch Sam threw for making Cede cry.

She refused to tell him what had set her off, but he knew it was bad—she didn't shed tears for nothing. Shaking the thought of Kurt away before he made himself angry again, Sam sucked in a breath and unbuckled his seatbelt.

He was not a coward and he wasn't going to hide behind his fear of rejection because of someone else's stupid mistake. Sam opened the truck door and slid out of the truck. He readjusted his hoody over his t-shirt and stuffed his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans.

Slamming the door closed, he checked his hair in the reflection of the truck window and nodded to himself before walking towards the doors of the auto shop. The bell above the door jingled as he opened it and Sam blushed immediately.

Why? He didn't even know, but there was something disconcerting about the pairs of eyes that swung towards him as he stepped inside. Keeping his wits about him, Sam walked up to the counter in the front of the room and glanced around the interior of the store.

From what he could see, Mr. Hummel had top of the line machinery in his store. The air smelled of oil and an unnatural clean scent that came from car products. The sight of a man sliding underneath the hood of a car was comforting for Sam's frazzled nerves.

Mr. Hummel's shop felt almost familiar and he remembered summer days when he and his dad tinkered around with an old vehicle in their garage in Tennessee. His shoulders relaxed as he stared around—looking at the racks of antifreeze, coolant, oils, and tools; Mr. Hummel definitely had some quality stuff in his shop.

Sam was startled out of his observations by a tall man setting down his wrench on the marble countertop in front of him. He jumped slightly and blushed when he spotted the amusement in the man's brown eyes.

"How can I help ya, kid?" he asked, a dirty rag swept between the man's oil covered fingers as he tried to clean off his hands. Sam looked him over. He wore a grayish-blue short-sleeved button up shirt over a stained white t-shirt. The bordered name tag on his right pectoral told Sam that his name was Anthony.

"Uh," Sam stuttered, "I was wondering if Mr. Hummel was in?"

Anthony's eyebrow ticked higher in a reflection of his surprise, but he didn't say anything. "Yeah," he told Sam, "Follow me. I'll take you to him."

The man motioned over his shoulder with his head and started walking away. Sam hurried after him. He glanced around at everything as they moved past cars up on the lifts. Everyone was hard at work and the sounds of people chatting set Sam at ease as Anthony led him to a glass door.

The tall man opened the door and stepped inside the hallway, before walking a few feet to an open doorway. Anthony leaned his shoulder onto the door frame and stuck his head inside the office.

Sam could make out the corner of a large wooden desk and a window around Anthony's frame. The name plate next to the door told him that this was Mr. Hummel's office and Sam's stomach tightened.

"Hey boss," Anthony said, "You've got a visitor."

"Tony, you know you don't have to walk Kurt back here every time he comes by—"

"It's not Kurt or Finn, boss."

"Is it Blaine?" Mr. Hummel asked—Sam could hear the curiosity in his voice and he was tempted to turn around and leave, but he wasn't about to walk away now. Mr. Hummel knew someone was here. It would be rude to backtrack now that he'd come this far. What was the worse he could say? No?

"Nope," Anthony replied, "Some blond kid."

"Send him in," Mr. Hummel responded and Sam watched Anthony nod, before stepping out of the doorway. Sam met the taller man's eyes for a moment, before he took a breath and stepped into the office.

The moment Mr. Hummel saw him, Sam watched the man's eyebrows fly to his hairline in surprise and a slight frown appeared on his face. That look did not instill hope.

"I've got it from here, Tony, thanks," Mr. Hummel told his employee and Anthony nodded before stepping out of the room. Sam watched the other guy leave from the corner of his eye, but was distracted by Mr. Hummel leaning back in his leather chair and resting his entwined hands on his desk.

"Have a seat, Sam," he said and Sam nodded.

He plopped down in the chair in front of the man's desk. "How can I help you?" Burt asked and Sam met his eyes.

"I'm here to ask for a job application," he blurted—there was no use in beating around the bush. Mr. Hummel looked even more surprised at the revelation than Sam had been hoping for. Burt was silent for a moment, a contemplative look in his eyes as he stared at Sam.

He squirmed in his seat under the intense look. Mr. Hummel wasn't a big man, but he was definitely intimidating. _Why was he constantly encountering guys who could squash him like a bug? _Mr. Jones was even more intimidating than Mr. Hummel, but the man was a giant teddy bear when it came to his daughters.

He needed to stop thinking about David when Mr. Hummel looked like he was going to propel Sam forcefully out of his office. Sam was preparing himself to be turned down flat when Mr. Hummel spoke. "You have the _nerve_ to come into my shop and ask for a job after you got into a fight with both of my boys?"

Sam winced—he knew that was going to come up, but when phrased that way it sounded much worse. Mr. Hummel had every reason to be suspicious and upset—he had launched himself into a brawl with Finn and Blaine and he'd have gladly socked Kurt in the eye; he still would.

"Yes sir," Sam answered; there was no reason for him to attempt to lie to the man. His feelings were his feelings and he wasn't going to stop protecting Mercedes because of where he was.

The serious look on Mr. Hummel's face made Sam uncomfortable.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't send you on your way," Burt stated, "I don't respond well to threats against my sons and I definitely don't respond well when I watch a nice kid instantly resort to violence."

"I'm not a violent person!" Sam protested, "He made Mercedes cry, and that's unacceptable to me."

"Damn straight, it's unacceptable," Mr. Hummel agreed. "I don't approve of the argument between Kurt and Mercedes—he said some awful things to her and I've already chewed him out for being callous and rude, but I want to know why _you _think you have the right to show up and throw yourself into a fight that you know nothing about? Mercedes has been like a daughter to me for the past two years, and I sure as hell don't plan on letting anyone hurt her—including you _and_ my kids."

"She's my girlfriend," Sam admitted and a flash of surprise moved across Mr. Hummel's eyes. "I will fight to protect my girlfriend. I was raised to defend those I love."

"And that's perfectly understandable," Mr. Hummel replied, "but violence is not always the answer. You can protect someone all you want, but you can't throw yourself into a physical fight every time they're hurt. If I did that, I'd be dead by now, because I'd have beaten every single one of those presumptuous assholes who insulted my son."

Sam felt more chastised than ever and he looked away from Burt; crossing his arms over his chest. He was grateful that his father had been in bed before he came home last night; otherwise Sam would've gotten the worst tongue-lashing of his life.

Lynn probably would've taken him over her knee.

That woman was small as hell, but she made him feel about two inches tall when she told him off. He hated disappointing her and he hated disappointing his dad even more. It wasn't like he could hide the black eye he was sporting or the swollen lip. They weren't as bad as he'd thought—Mercedes had made him ice everything while they were at Mike's house, but it was still obvious that his face had been hit with fists.

He knew he'd catch hell when he went home today and his dad and Lynn saw him.

"Mercedes has been hurt enough by people," Sam said after a few seconds of silence. "I've seen how much it hurts her to have people she calls friends walk in and out of her life as though she doesn't even matter. She's just gotten her confidence back and I'm not going to sit back and allow someone she loves to walk all over her heart again."

Sam met Burt's eyes—his jaw set. "I don't know what Kurt said to her, but I know it hurt her badly. She shouldn't have to run to him to fix the problems that _he _caused, and if there was a repeat of yesterday—I'd be a little bit faster at approaching him, because I'd love to punch him in the face for doing this to her."

"Let me ask you this—do you have a problem with my son being gay?" Burt asked suddenly, and Sam's brow furrowed at the random question.

"With all due respect sir, why would I care if Kurt's gay?" Sam responded. "I don't give a crap about his preferences. You like who you like—it doesn't affect me. I don't care if he's gay, straight, bi, or asexual—he _hurt_ Mercedes for no good reason and I won't let that fly."

"Sam," Burt said, "_I get it_. I really do. You care a lot about Mercy and she's an amazing, intelligent and beautiful young lady, but I've known her for years and I don't think she'd approve of you sucker-punching everyone in the world who pissed her off."

Sam couldn't quite hide his wince and Burt snorted. "She already told you off good, didn't she?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair and shot a half smile at Mr. Hummel. He could still hear her telling him off for butting in on her personal battles, but then he started thinking about the kiss she gave him after she told him off and Sam figured that it would be best to not go down that road right now.

"Yeah," he replied, "She didn't even wait until we left your property before she laid into me about it. I have a feeling that my dad is going to be a lot worse when he sees me, though. Lynn might beat me and then coddle me to death."

Mr. Hummel laughed and Sam shrugged. "You're living with Lynn? Mercedes' pseudo-aunt?"

"Yes sir," Sam replied, "She and my dad are close friends and she let us move in with her when we got kicked out of the motel room."

"She's one hell of a woman," Burt responded in amusement, "Terrifying as all get out if you piss her off. I've seen her tear the pride right off a man when he thought he could put his hands anywhere he wanted on her body. I thought that _my testicles_ were going to crawl back into my body and I was all the way across the store when she told him off. I'm pretty sure he left the store as a woman when she was done with him."

Sam laughed—Lynn was something else and he hadn't known her for long, but he knew that her bad side was not a place that he wanted to be. Once they calmed down from their laughter, Burt turned his chair to the side and stood up.

"Forget the application, kid," Mr. Hummel said as he made his way around the desk. Sam stared up at him, crestfallen. Burt laughed and dropped a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Come with me."

Sam followed him dejectedly out of the office and down the hallway. When they stepped out into the main area of the store, Mr. Hummel handed Sam a wrench. Sam blinked in confusion.

"Listen kid," Burt stated, "You're a nice guy, but you've got to get those protective instincts of yours under control. I understand just as much as the next person about how much you want to defend the people you care about, but you have to learn how to pick your battles. Kurt was wrong for what he said and I've made sure that he knows it, but the only two people who can fix that relationship are those two."

Sam nodded—his fingers tightening around the wrench.

"Now, go to that car over there," Burt said, pointing towards a red Toyota up on jacks already. "It has a flat tire and needs an oil change. Do those two things right, and you're hired."

Sam's jaw dropped, but he shook of his shock quickly when Burt's eyes danced in amusement. He nodded and Burt clapped him on the shoulder, before walking away.

"Thank you, Mr. Hummel!" he called after the man.

"It's Burt, Sam," Mr. Hummel replied over his shoulder. "Now get to work!"

Sam practically beamed as he sat the wrench down on a shelf. He pulled his hoody off, leaving him in a plain red t-shirt, before moving over to the car; only stopping to grab a rag on his way over.

It took him less than an hour to do what Burt requested of him. He'd taken the time to tighten the bearings on the other tires and fill them with air. When Burt came over to check on his progress, Sam waited with baited breath as the man double-checked all of his work.

"Let's go work out a schedule in my office kid," Burt said when he finished and a bright grin nearly split his face. He didn't care that he now had oil stains on his t-shirt or that there were black marks creeping up his arms from the dirty tire treads.

Sam and Burt worked out a schedule that allowed him to come in two days a week from one in the afternoon to five on Mondays and Wednesdays. He would also be getting paid $9.75 an hour after he filled out and turned in all the paperwork.

Now, he just needed to put in his two-week notice at the Pizza Parlor.

The best part was that he'd be able to participate in those sports camps now. Yeah, whoever said that he wasn't blessed was a damn liar. Sam left Burt's Auto shop with a folder full of papers he needed to fill out, but he had a new—and much improved—job and maybe even a new friend in Mr. Hummel.

He couldn't wait to tell Mercedes.

* * *

><p><strong>May 26, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**Lynn's House—Lynn's Bedroom**

**Lima, Ohio**

**9:12AM**

Jeff woke up to a pleasant warmth curled against his chest, but the unpleasant roiling of his stomach and the pounding headache that settled in completely overwhelmed the nice feeling of being in the same bed with someone again.

The fact that his bladder was precariously full didn't help matters. Jeff slid out of bed and stumbled directly into the nightstand. He stubbed his toe and let out a loud curse. The sound of his own yelling made his head throb.

Jeff swayed on the spot, still feeling drunk before he hurried to the bathroom in the most ungraceful manner possible. It couldn't even be called walking. He felt like he was doing a mix of hobbling, stumbling, and running as he moved to the restroom. It didn't help that everything was turned around because it wasn't his bathroom—he'd have to freak out about not being in his room once his bladder wasn't about to burst.

Jeff felt like he pissed out a waterfall, before he washed his hands in the sink. He finally caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and grimaced in disgust. He looked horrendous.

His eyes were puffy and red and his face was sickly pale. Jeff's hair was a rat's nest of tangles and he just looked like death warmed over. The sight was the last straw for his stomach, and Jeff found himself puking into the toilet.

His eyes burned at the acrid smell. _Had he just drank pure liquor with no food whatsoever? The_ entire day was fuzzy, but he knew that his hangovers usually weren't this bad unless he had done something stupid like that.

He upchucked into the porcelain bowl again—his stomach muscles clenching painfully as his body dispelled its' disagreeable contents. His head pounded worse than ever and Jeff knew that he was probably dehydrated to begin with, and this sure as hell wasn't helping anything.

"Jeffrey?" Lynn's sweet voice sounded from the bedroom and he groaned. He didn't want her to see him like this. He'd apparently been enough of an asshole last night if he was at this point.

What could have set him off like this?

"Jeff?" He heard Lynn's voice right outside the door this time. Jeff wanted to tell her to stay away; to not come inside because he was a pathetic fucker who did stupid shit like drink himself silly. The last thing he wanted was for her to see how broken and useless he really was.

But before he could tell her to stay outside, Jeff's gag reflex went into a frenzy and he started puking again. The door swung open behind him and he felt the rush of cool air blow across his sweaty skin. It was a moment of relief before he went right back to throwing up.

"Oh, Jeff," Lynn said and Jeff heard her shuffle quickly across the floor and to his side. She knelt next to him for a moment and her small hands rubbed his shoulders. She didn't even seem to be bothered by the fact that he was throwing up about a foot away from her; she just rubbed his back as he fought to get himself under control.

"I'll be right back," she said, placing a kiss on his shoulder before moving away.

Jeff heard her hurry out of the room, but his mind was torn between the tingles that spread across his skin from the feel of her soft lips on his body and the horrible roiling going on in his stomach.

The upset stomach won out in the end, but that kiss put up a damn good fight.

He didn't know how long she'd been gone, but it felt like forever. He was finally able to stop puking long enough to flush the toilet and slump against the wall next to the toilet. His whole body felt limp and sore. Now, he knew why he'd never been much of a drinker.

Lynn walked into the room with two glasses of water in hand, and a small bag hanging off her shoulder. She set the water on the sink and then pulled a can of ginger ale and a package of saltines out of the bag. He watched as she moved over to the wall of cabinets across the bathroom and opened a cabinet at chest height

. It was full of pill bottles from what he could see—Tylenol, Advil, children's meds, vitamins. Now he knew where she kept the chewable dinosaur vitamins she made Stevie and Stacey take every morning with breakfast.

She'd bought Sam his own bottle to put in his restroom. Jeff watched in a daze as she pulled out a bottle of extra strength Tylenol. His head was pounding. His mouth tasted horrible, and he felt extremely weak.

Lynn walked over to him, grabbing the glass of water off the counter and then sitting down next to him on the ground. She handed him some quick-dissolve Tums and the Tylenol, before helping him sip on the glass of lukewarm water. When he'd swallowed almost half of it, she got up again.

Lynn was wearing a purple tank top and skin tight black shorts that molded to her figure. Her short hair slightly wavy and wild, but Jeff thought she looked beautiful. He closed his eyes and tried to fight the nausea down again.

Jeff only opened his eyes when he felt a cool wet cloth being pressed gently against his forehead. He met her worried hazel eyes as she wiped his face down with the moist towel. Her lips were twisted into a frown and Jeff wanted to cry at the thought of upsetting her. He knew that he'd messed up last night. It made his current state that much more miserable.

"You scared me," Lynn whispered and Jeff stared at her. He felt her fingertips trace across the stubble on his jaw, before her hand disappeared. His heart broke at the expression on her face.

"What happened?" he asked—his voice raspy and it hurt to talk, but he had to know.

"You drank three-fourths of a brand new Jack Daniels bottle," Lynn replied, "_Straight_."

"Damn," Jeff cursed as he let his head fall gingerly against the wall.

Closing his eyes, Jeff felt the memories coming back the longer he thought about what had gone on yesterday—phone call, Elizabeth, Chris—_Christopher_. He'd called Chris and found out that Elizabeth had gone to him.

The pain came rushing back again, and Jeff scrambled back to the toilet as his stomach turned upside down from the emotional avalanche. He remembered exactly why he'd chugged a whole bottle of alcohol. Knowing that she went back to Chris—it just shattered him. He'd thought her leaving was the last straw, but finding that out; it killed him inside.

Jeff didn't even realize that he'd started crying until Lynn's hands gripped his shoulders and he felt her forehead rest in the center of his back. He puked again—the tears sliding down his cheeks hard and fast. He gripped the sides of the toilet as leaned over it. The more he thought about it—_about him and her_—the more it felt like his heart was collapsing in his chest.

How could she do this to him? She may not have loved him as much as he loved her, but they had always been friends. Why would she treat him this way? Why was he never good enough for her? Why did she have to find some way to destroy his happiness when he was just beginning to recover? What did he ever do to deserve this type of pain?

"You haven't done anything wrong, Jeffrey," Lynn said—her voice insistent and he could hear the tears caught in her throat. "You don't deserve this!"

He hadn't even realized that he'd been speaking out loud, but it didn't matter because Lynn was on a roll.

"Do you really think that I would care about someone who wasn't a good person after what Davis did to me?" Lynn asked her voice full of outrage. "If you weren't _good enough—_you wouldn't be in my house. If you didn't deserve my love, God never would've told me to bring you into my home and family and into my heart. So, you can stop that foolishness right now, Jeffrey Evans, because I won't let that harlot come into _my _house and tear you apart."

Jeff looked over his shoulder at her and was taken aback to see the fire burning in Lynn's eyes. She looked like she was torn between comforting him and going out to murder Elizabeth.

"If you think for one second that I'm going to let that bitch make your life hell—then you've got a lot to learn about how I operate. Let that woman step to me and I'll help her develop an intimate relationship with the concrete when I shove her face into the pavement," she said—her voice was almost a growl and the set look on her face had a stirring of arousal pooling in Jeff's stomach.

How could a woman as sweet as Lynn switch to protective lioness within moments was astonishing to Jeff, but it wasn't any less beautiful. And he didn't for a second doubt that Lynn would throw down if she ever met Elizabeth face-to-face. He'd pity the day that happened, because Elizabeth would get her ass handed to her on a silver platter.

On second thought, he'd love to see that shit. He might even take pictures.

Jeff was pulled from his amusement when he threw up again, but Lynn rubbed his back. He rested his forehead against his arm. "I'm sorry for getting so wasted," he told her and Lynn laughed softly.

"I probably would've done the same thing you did if I was in your place," Lynn replied. "Who wouldn't want to forget heartbreak like that?"

"So you're not mad at me?" Jeff asked as he peered at her. He watched as one of her eyebrows rose and her lips quirked in a sassy manner as she looked back at him.

"Oh no," Lynn said, "I'm pissed as hell at you right now. You could've given yourself alcohol poisoning! I'm just being nice because I understand _why _you did it, but that doesn't make me like it. Plus, you're being punished enough. You're going to keep puking until all the alcohol is out of your system."

Jeff groaned in dismay and Lynn chuckled.

"It's gonna be a _long_ day, buddy," she told him cheerfully, and Jeff cut his eyes at her. She checked him real quick. "Don't give me that look, mister. It's not my fault that you're going to be hella sick all day."

"Won't you take pity on a poor unfortunate soul, woman?"

"I'm sitting here, rubbing your back while you reek of alcohol and you're vomiting the most atrocious colors I've ever seen," Lynn sassed, "I'm pretty sure that I'm having pity on you."

Jeff choked out a laugh. "You've got a point there," he told her and Lynn smiled at him. "How'd we end up—ya know—_sleeping_ in the same bed?"

The amusement flared in her hazel eyes.

"What?" she teased, "You want to know if we did the horizontal tango?"

"If we did that," Jeff said, "You would be a lot less clothed and you'd have a lot more hickeys all over your body."

He couldn't believe he said that, but _damn_ if it wasn't true. Jeff would have licked and sucked all over that soft chocolate skin of hers like she was a freaking ice cream cone. He wasn't an idiot.

He wanted Lynn like he'd_ never_ wanted a woman before.

She was sexy and adorable and strong and intelligent. She made him laugh and feel safe. Lynn wouldn't let him get down on himself without helping him get back up to the top. She argued with him and made him see more than one side. Lynn was everything he'd ever wanted or needed in a woman, and he knew that he was falling for her.

_If he wasn't already in love with her as it was. _

Her hazel eyes opened wide and he could tell that she was blushing furiously, but she didn't object to his insinuation. The idea didn't look like it repulsed her. In fact, it looked like it _intrigued_ her.

"Maybe one day, we'll find out," she replied and Jeff stared at her. _Had she really just—?_ Yeah, she did. It was the first time either of them had admitted to feeling more than friendship for each other out loud and Jeff wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do about it.

He couldn't kiss her with vomit breath and he wouldn't because he was still married to Elizabeth, but fuck all if she wasn't a non-factor at this point. He was afraid that he was rushing into something. He didn't want to hurry into a relationship with Lynn and mess it all up. She deserved better, and if he was the _one_ for her—they could both hold out a little longer until he could give her the absolute best that he had to offer.

"One day," Jeff said softly, "We will."

The promise in his voice seemed to register with Lynn because the emotions swelled in her eyes. They gazed at each other for an unbroken moment. Everything they'd felt and all the things they'd kept inside for the past few weeks was at the surface—electric and burning as they watched each other. Their eyes said all they needed to for the moment.

He wasn't ready to trail into the far more dangerous territory of complete emotional enrapture that he had for her. The sexual tension they were playing with seemed perilous enough for the both of them. He knew it wasn't about sex for her, and judging by the way she was looking at him, she knew that he didn't think it was about sex either.

One day, he'd be man enough to tell her exactly how he felt—_and show her as well._

"Come on," Lynn said as she removed her gaze from his and scooted back from him.

"Where am I going?" Jeff asked.

"It always helps me to sit under the hot water in the shower when I'm feeling nauseous," Lynn replied. "Drink the water I brought you while I warm up the water. I'll go grab you some clean clothes from your room."

He was tempted to ask if she was going to join him, but Jeff was sure that he'd tested enough boundaries for the day. So he watched as she turned on the shower and tested the water with one hand. He could see the steam curling up from the water and he could feel his head clearing a little already as he quickly drunk both glasses of water.

Lynn walked back over to him with a fluffy purple towel in hand. She gave it to him, before ushering him towards the shower. "I'll be right back with some clothes and your toothbrush," she said, "Wash everything, please. You smell like you belong in the liquor cabinet."

Jeff laughed but he nodded. She nudged him in the side with her elbow, before scampering out of the bathroom. He stripped his boxer briefs off right when Lynn did an about-face and walked back into the bathroom.

She stood there in shock for a moment—Jeff's face was bright red.

He couldn't believe that Lynn was staring at him while he was butt-naked, but she certainly didn't look disappointed. The surge of pride that swept through him was powerful, but his face was still on fire.

"There's regular—uh—bar soap under the sink," Lynn stammered—her voice oddly strangled, "So you don't have to use my body wash." That was all she seemed to be able to get out before her embarrassment took over and she turned to hurry out of the room. She moved a bit too quickly, and managed to run into the door frame.

Jeff laughed and said, "I thought I was the one with a hangover!"

"Jeffrey!"

* * *

><p><strong>May 26, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate—Mercedes' Bedroom**

**Lima, Ohio**

**10:11AM**

Mercedes wasn't bored, but they'd been out of school for a week now and she was restless. It was nice not having to be up at six in the morning, and even nicer to have time to sit down and map out her study schedule for the summer.

She couldn't play around with her summer homework. Her AP classes were no joke for this semester and she had to stay on top of everything if she wanted to finish everything and get it done well.

With her homework schedule made, Mercedes was less stressed about all the assignments she had to complete—it was great knowing the deadline for something, even if they were self-imposed.

Mercedes clicked around on her computer—debating whether or not she should practice her skills on the violin or write some music. She'd already prepared her songs for the children's choir rehearsals for the next two months and she had a list of songs that she wanted them to sing for the summer recital.

This was what she got for being productive. Now, she had nothing to do—_and what was that?_

Mercedes pressed the back button to go back to the page she had just clicked past. She took a moment to look over the advertisement for a Lima Summer Camp Counselor position. Apparently, one of the staff members had dropped out not four days before the start of the camp and they needed someone to fill the spot.

It was only three days a week—Monday, Wednesday and Thursday—from nine to three. If she got it, it wouldn't interfere with her homework schedule or her choir practices. It would be nice to make money for herself, and getting job experience was always a plus.

Mercedes mulled over the idea for a moment longer, before she opened the application and started filling it out. There were quite a few questions and a couple of simple essay questions. It wouldn't take her more than an hour to do—and after checking the time, Mercedes knew that she had plenty of time to do it and her homework before her date with Sam that night.

A smile crossed her face at the thought; she had no idea what he had in mind, but she was excited. Her train of thought vanished when her cell phone started vibrating on her desk, and she picked it up after seeing Quinn's name flash across her screen.

"Hey Que," she said as she turned her phone on speaker and then started answering the questions on the job application.

"Hi Mimi," Quinn answered. "What are you doing?"

"Filling out a job application for a camp counselor," Mercedes replied.

"Oh," Quinn said, "Bored already?"

Mercedes laughed and replied, "No. I just want something other to do than choir and homework."

"You could try _doing_ Sam—"

"_Quinn!" _

The girl's laughter floated through the speakers of her phone, but Mercedes glared at it, her face warm from embarrassment.

"You know I'm kidding, girl," Quinn said, "but once you're done with your application—want to come to the mall with me? We need a date. I haven't seen you in forever!"

"You saw me last Saturday!"

"Exactly," Quinn replied, "_Last_ Saturday. That's too long. My brain is working again—you're not allowed to go_ four_ days without seeing my thuggish mug."

Mercedes laughed.

"Fine, I'll text you when I'm heading out. I need an outfit for my date with Sam tonight anyway—"

"Date?" Quinn exclaimed, "You have a date with Sam tonight and didn't update me? This is what I mean when I say that it's been too long. Unacceptable, Mimi."

"I understand, Que," Mercedes replied in amusement. "I'll see you in a little while."

"'kay, girl," Quinn responded, "See you then! Love you."

"Love you too," Mercedes said, "See you soon."

Quinn ended the call and Mercedes turned her attention to churning out her application. It took her about forty minutes to get it all done, and then she took an extra ten minutes to read over everything to make sure it was correct. Once finished, she submitted it; bookmarked the page then closed the browser and put her desktop to sleep.

Mercedes checked the time and then hurried to grab her purse off of the hook next to the wall. She slipped her phone in her bag and checked her reflection in the mirror. Her soft green cotton dress still looked adorable; the scoop neck and cinched empire waist highlighted her figure and her white keds still looked fly.

She fluffed her curls, and slipped on a white cardigan, before she texted Quinn that she was heading over right then.

* * *

><p><strong>May 26, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**City of Lima Shopping Center**

**Lima, Ohio**

**11:34AM**

Mercedes found Quinn standing in front of JC Penny's. She was wearing a black and white long-sleeved dress with a pair of bright yellow gladiator sandals and a long necklace with a shimmery yellow flower and crystals shaped like leaves.

"You look hot," Mercedes said and Quinn gave her a bright smile before pulling Mercedes into a hug. "Now I want to go home and change."

"You look beautiful," Quinn said as she put her arm through Mercedes'. "Now let's get to looking for this date outfit. We have lots of stores to move through and only a limited amount of time. When is he picking you up?"

"Seven," Mercedes replied and Quinn grinned as they started walking towards the department store. "But isn't your therapist appointment today at three?"

The question made Quinn's green eyes darken with anxiety, but she shook it off. "Yeah," she responded quietly, "It's at three today."

"How are you feeling? Is your mom going with you?" Mercedes asked—placing her free hand over Quinn's when the girl let out a bitter chuckle.

"No," she answered, "My mom wouldn't even let me finish the question before she said no. I don't think she's ready to accept my crazy just yet."

"Stop calling yourself crazy," Mercedes said firmly. "And I'm sure your mom will come around soon. Maybe she's just scared."

"I'm petrified," Quinn told her, "yet I'm going."

"As much as it sucks, _you_ have to go, but she can walk away from the problem," Mercedes said. Quinn stared at her—her gaze heavy and she sighed. "I don't like it either, but it's a lot easier to pretend that the problem doesn't exist when you can walk away from it."

Quinn was silent for awhile and Mercedes squeezed her hand. "If you want me to go with you, I will."

"I can't ask you to do that when even _my mother _doesn't want to—"

"You didn't ask," Mercedes said, "I offered."

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment as they rode the escalator up to the second floor where women's clothes were located. "I'd really appreciate it," Quinn replied and Mercedes kissed the girl's cheek.

"Then I'll be there."

"Okay," Quinn said with a bright smile, "enough of that crap. Let's talk about what you've been up to this week while we find this outfit of yours!"

Mercedes laughed at the excited expression on Quinn's face as she was dragged into the racks of clothing. "I talked to Kurt," she told the blonde as she flipped through some dresses. None of them were really her taste though, so she moved onto the next one.

"How'd it go?" Quinn asked—she was more than aware of the sudden distance between Mercedes and Kurt. Mercedes had spent an hour on the phone after Sam left her house last Saturday complaining about the argument between them at her party.

"Not well," Mercedes admitted and Quinn's green eyes narrowed.

"What'd he do?" she asked.

"Girl, it's a long story—"

"We're going to be here for almost three hours," Quinn interrupted, "And we've got nothing else to do but look for an outfit and let me get all up in your business."

Mercedes laughed at Quinn's statement, but she proceeded to tell her the entire story—from her going over to Kurt's house, their argument, the fight, and how they'd all been sat down with the Hudson-Hummel parents. Mercedes recounted her argument with Sam after everything had been over too.

By the time she was done, the girls had moved from JC Penny's with Mercedes buying this vertical striped cardigan—it had gold and yellow stripes and a faint shimmer to the fabric; Mercedes fell in love with it immediately. They were now in Torrid, and Quinn's face was a mix of shock, pride, and anger.

"Go Sam!" was the first thing that she blurted when she recovered her senses.

Mercedes stared at her and Quinn quirked her lips at her in return. "What? I wish he'd landed a hit on Kurt's smarmy little face—"

"Que!"

"Uh-uh, _oh no_," Quinn stated, "Don't you go protecting that damn uncoordinated elf—"

"Quinn," Mercedes said in exasperation, "What are you doing?"

"I wish I was there," Quinn replied, "I would've drop kicked him."

"_Seriously?"_

"He made you cry," Quinn said indignantly. "That douche is lucky that he's still alive. I'm mentally torturing him as we speak."

"He made a _mistake_—"

"He gets no redemption from you! He better apologize or he can stay the hell away from you."

"Quinn—"

"Don't _Quinn_, me! He better fix himself before he comes back around you."

"Would you stop—"

"I swear if he even looks at you cross-eyed, I'll kill him."

Mercedes eyed Quinn dubiously over the rack of dresses that she was angrily flipping through. Her jaw was set and she seemed to be extremely upset. _Was it bad to feel good that her soul-sister cared so much?_ If it was, Mercedes couldn't help it. She had gone so long without people noticing and caring about her feelings that having Sam and Quinn want to fight for her—it just surprised her.

A bubble of warmth and fondness grew in the pit of her stomach as she watched the blonde move from one rack to another.

"Thanks Que," she said softly and the girl's green eyes snapped to her in confusion.

"Thanks for what?"

"For caring," Mercedes replied and a look of understanding stole across Quinn's features. The two of them shared a telling look and Mercedes smiled at her best friend. She had missed Quinn, and she'd never been more grateful that they'd fixed their relationship.

Quinn went back to flipping through dresses and Mercedes was about to head over to the rack of shoes because she spotted some killer black and cork wedge heels from the corner of her eye. _And was that a ribbon?_ Mercedes turned to walk over when she heard her phone ring. She fished around in her bag and grabbed it from its pocket on the side.

She wasn't expecting to see Santana's name flashing across the screen, but she answered the call anyway.

"Hello?"

"Wheezy!" Santana replied, "Just the chica I was hoping to talk to."

"Considering you called me, San," Mercedes said in amusement, "I would be the one to answer the phone."

"Eh," Santana responded, "Semantics."

"Did you want something?"

"When do I _not _want something?" The rejoinder had Mercedes chuckling. She shook her head. Santana was a mess—hilarious and quite rude at times, but she was as messy as they came.

"San—"

"Fine, Aretha," Santana said dramatically, "I wanted to know if you were up to some fine dining at Breadstix tomorrow?"

"Uh, sure," Mercedes answered—she was a bit taken aback. It wasn't like Santana made it a habit to actually hang out with her. They were friends, but not particularly close. "What time? And is it just us?"

"Well, it'd be around noon, because I needs my sleep," Santana replied, "but I'm inviting all of the glee girls. And only the girls—I don't need to see any pissing contests around my food. So the penis parade is not invited and that includes Kurtsie. "

Mercedes choked on her laugh, but she was more than grateful. She had no desire to see Kurt's face anytime soon. And Sam and Kurt at the same table could be disastrous—not to mention Quinn might purposely poison the boy.

"Are you inviting Rachel?"

"Why would you bring the hobbit into this discussion, Wheezy?"

"She's a glee girl, too."

"I wouldn't count her as a girl—I think cockroach is a much better description—"

"_Messy _and outta line!"

"You don't like her neither," Santana responded—her voice reminiscent of a pout, "So I don't see why_ I_ get judged when you want to set her on fire too."

"Rachel isn't as bad as all that—"

"Bullshit! Don't make me start cussing in Spanish, because I will teach you about the hobbit."

"I still think you should invite her—"

"She's gonna say no, Aretha!"

"Well, then let her say no, but don't make yourself look like an ass for not extending an invitation. This way she won't have a leg to stand on if she complains about not being liked."

Santana let out a grumpy sigh. "Why are you always trying to get me to do right by people?"

"Because you're better than the bitch face you show everyone else."

"You barely know me!"

"I know enough."

Santana was silent on the other end for a moment, but she huffed out a breath. Mercedes grinned—she had totally won that conversation.

"Fine, I'll invite the hobbit."

"Thanks Santana."

"See you tomorrow, Wheezy," Santana said before she hung up the phone without giving Mercedes a chance to say goodbye. She didn't like Rachel but she wasn't going to ignore her existence. She knew what that felt like, and she'd be damned if she made the same mistakes that Kurt did.

Mercedes finally reached the shoe rack as she put her purse back in her bag. _They were perfect!_ She lifted them off the shelf and admired them, before she was distracted by a strangled gasp from Quinn.

"Mercy! Holy—_Mercedes!"_ Quinn whisper-yelled from across the room. Mercedes glanced over at her soul-sister and burst out laughing at the huge grin stretched across Quinn's face. The blonde lifted a hanger in the air as she hurried over to Mercedes.

The diva caught a glimpse of the dress in Quinn's hand and her jaw dropped slightly. It was _gorgeous._ Quinn looked smug when she came to a stop in front of Mercedes and she waved the dress in front of Mercedes' face.

"I think we found your dress for tonight," Quinn told her—the proud smirk was balanced by the excitement in her green eyes. Both of them let out a squeal of happiness before Quinn started dragging Mercedes off to the dressing room; Mercedes clutched the shoes in her hands.

* * *

><p><strong>May 26, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**Lynn's House—Dining Room**

**Lima, Ohio**

**4:49PM**

Jeff was still nauseous, but he was no longer dehydrated and his headache had pretty much vanished. Lynn made him drink a glass of water every half-hour to expedite the removal of alcohol from his body. He was grateful, but Jeff was sure that he'd never peed more in his life.

"Woman," Jeff protested as Lynn placed two more glasses of water in front of him, "If I drink anymore water, my liver will be so clean that it'll look like I got a transplant from a baby."

"Well, you're acting like a toddler right now, so it'd be fitting," Lynn retorted and Jeff side-eyed her indignantly. She shot him a sarcastic look and Jeff sighed heavily as he lifted the glass of water. He resigned himself to making another trip to the restroom in about fifteen minutes.

As he drank his water, they got back to work. They'd worked on the new hires all day long—Jeff reviewing the interview documents and resumes that Lynn showed him. Both of them had different opinions on who should be hired or not, and they bickered over each selection.

The good thing was that they were almost done with their selection process because Jeff's motivation to do anything was fading quickly. Stacey and Stevie were in the backyard running around with Marley. Delia had dropped off the twins around noon. Stacey had initially been reading a book and Stevie watched some cartoons, but they got bored quickly. So, playing outside was a good plan. The two of them could see the kids through the window as they worked.

Lynn and Jeff were on their final round of applicants when they heard the front door open and close.

"Sam, is that you, darlin?" Lynn called. There was a long moment of silence. Jeff glanced at Lynn, who shrugged and looked over her shoulder. "_Sam?"_

"Yeah Lynn," the teen responded, "It's me!"

"Are you gonna come in and say hello?" she joked. Jeff's eyebrows furrowed when he heard Sam let out a nervous chuckle.

"Um," he replied, "I'd rather not."

"What does _that_ mean?" Lynn asked—a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. She shot Jeff a confused look and he shook his head. He wasn't sure what was going on either.

When Sam didn't answer her, she said, "Sam, come here!"

"I've got some stuff to do before I head out—"

"That _wasn't _a question," Jeff said—making sure that Sam knew that he was crossing lines and it was not acceptable. There was the distinct sound of a sigh and then Jeff heard slow footsteps walking in the direction of the dining room. He and Lynn traded a disconcerted look before Sam's form appeared in the doorway.

His head was bowed—blond hair hiding his face from both of them—and he stayed in the doorway, his arms crossed. "What's up, guys?"

Lynn looked concerned and Jeff didn't know what to think. Had Sam seen him and Lynn sleeping together in the same bed? He didn't seem angry, but that was a definite possibility.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Lynn asked and Sam shook his head.

"I'm fine," he replied quietly.

"You don't seem _fine_," Lynn said, "Did you get in a fight with Mercy? You didn't break up did you?" Lynn sounded horrified, and Sam furiously shook his head.

"No!" Sam replied, "We didn't break up. We got into an argument, but we're good._ Great_, even. I'm—"

"Sam, look at me," Jeff ordered. He could have sworn that he saw something on Sam's face when his kid shook his head, but he wasn't sure about it. His eyes narrowed when Sam tensed. "_Now_, Samuel."

Lynn stared at him, confused, but then she looked back at Sam, who had finally lifted his head. She gasped when she saw Sam's face and Jeff stood out of his seat instantly—a thunderous cloud of rage overwhelming his vision.

"_Darlin'!"_ she cried, practically launching herself out of her chair—not even caring that her papers flew all over the table and fell onto the floor. "What happened, baby?" she asked as she hurried to him.

Lynn's hand's grasped Sam's jaw as she examined the giant black eye he was sporting and the busted lip. He didn't fight her off as she fussed over him with gentle fingers. Jeff made his way over to his son; he was going to rip the face off the son of a bitch who thought he could hit his kid.

"Who did this?" Jeff growled—reaching out with a soft hand to tilt Sam's chin upward so he could get a better look. Yeah, he had a real shiner over the side of his eye.

"No one did it to me, dad," Sam replied, "I got into a fight."

"_Samuel Evans_!"

"You did _what_?"

"Explain yourself, young man," Lynn demanded—her hands were planted on her hips and her hazel eyes were narrowed at Sam. She looked mad as hell; and for a moment, Jeff felt a flicker of pity for his son, before he remembered that he was pissed too. "What on earth could possibly make you get into a fight?"

Sam's jaw tightened and Jeff saw his hands clench. So, Sam was still mad about whatever had set him off.

"Mercedes—"

"What about Mercedes?"

"Kurt made Mercedes cry and when I saw her so upset; I just lost my cool," Sam admitted with a weak grimace. Lynn shook her head.

"Why would Kurt make Mercedes cry?" Jeff asked—_was he missing something here?_ He'd met Kurt many times before, and the kid could be a little bit much, but he didn't seem cruel. Why would anyone make Mercedes cry anyway? She was one of the sweetest people he'd ever met.

Lynn was frowning and Sam looked just as displeased as she did. Jeff eyed them both warily.

"Kurt was Mercedes' best friend," Lynn answered, "And they've been incredibly distant this year. It's been a problem since he transferred to Dalton and then came back with a boyfriend."

"Don't forget that he ditched Mercedes for Rachel's friendship," Sam said with a scoff. "Rachel's got her good moments, but she's got nothing on Cede."

Lynn looked like she agreed vehemently, but she kept her mouth shut—still shooting Sam the stink-eye. Jeff had never met Rachel, but he was sure that he'd be hard pressed to find anyone who was more wonderful than Mercedes.

Yeah, he was a huge fan of his son's girlfriend. Not that he'd ever say so to Sam, but he knew that she was good for him. He'd known it since she'd come over to their motel room with a home-cooked meal despite barely knowing Sam. Jeff had seen the romantic potential between the two the second Sam had seen her standing in their motel room, and how he reacted like a nervous wreck.

"Doesn't mean that you're not about to get chewed out for getting into a fight," Jeff told his son and Sam looked down at the ground—shame-faced. "I understand wanting to protect your girlfriend, son, but you can't always do that with your fists."

"Mercedes has already told me exactly how she feels about me getting into a fight," Sam replied, an amused smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "She was verbal and _very clear_ that she doesn't want me fighting her battles for her. In fact, she told me last night after we left Mike's house that 'she was a woman _before_ me, and she'll be one while she's with me, and I better not try to step to every clown that comes across her path or I'd be the one getting hit'."

Jeff spotted the flash of amusement that crossed Lynn's face. He also saw the pride in her eyes as she grinned to herself and then covered it up with a stern expression. He wanted to laugh too. Sam looked fond, exasperated, and amused all at once.

"Well," Jeff said—clearing his throat, "There's not much I can add to that, because you know she's right."

Sam looked sheepish. "You're telling me," he replied with a shake of his head. "It's going to take some time to get used to dating a girl like Mercedes."

Lynn couldn't quite hold in her giggle this time and Sam pouted. Lynn burst out laughing, before opening her arms to Sam and pulling him into an embrace. She stood on tip toe and kissed his cheek.

"She's a Jones woman," Lynn said as she smoothed some of the stray hairs on Sam's head. "She's strong and intelligent—you're going to have to get acclimated real quickly, because she may _compromise_, but she'll never change."

Jeff watched Sam close his eyes as Lynn examined the purpling and slightly swollen black eye he had.

"Let me go get some ice and I'll put a little ointment on that lip," Lynn said, before she stepped back from Sam.

His heart beat a bit faster. _She was such a wonderful woman._

"Thanks Lynn," Sam told her and Lynn smiled, before moving away. When they were alone in the room, Jeff motioned for Sam to have a seat. Sam slumped into a chair and Jeff sat in the one perpendicular to him at the head of the table.

Making sure that Lynn wasn't within earshot, Jeff grinned at his son and then held up a fist.

"Did you get in a few good licks?"

Sam snickered under his breath and met his dad's unspoken fist bump. "Yeah, a few, but I was double-teamed."

They smiled at each other, before Jeff got serious. Something had happened to set Sam and Mercedes off. He knew that his kid wasn't a hot head, unless he was in a highly emotional situation.

"Do you know _exactly _what happened?" Jeff asked and Sam shook his head.

"When I got there, Mercedes was already crying and I just pieced together what most likely happened and who caused it, before I went in fists-flying. I _know _it was Kurt. She told me that it was Kurt, who had made her cry, but she won't tell me _what_ he said."

Sam leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "I know it was bad though, dad. She looked _heartbroken_. Once I saw how hurt she was, things quickly escalated into a brawl with Finn and Blaine."

"Who stopped the fight? Mercedes?"

"No," Sam replied, "Burt Hummel did. He made all of us sit down together and talk everything out. Kurt has a reason for his story, but honestly—none of it makes me want to let him off the hook for making Mercedes feel that way again."

"I normally don't approve of violence," Lynn said as she walked back into the room and dropped a cloth-wrapped ice pack and a tube of Neosporin onto the tabletop, "but I kind of wish that you had clocked him good—_just once even_."

Jeff chuckled at the impish expression on her face as she turned to Sam.

"Tilt your head back a little, darlin'," she told him and Sam did as asked. Lynn gently placed the icepack on his swollen eye, before lifting the Neosporin and opening the cap. She applied it to the small cut on Sam's lip with gentle fingers.

"Do you have any other bruises?" she asked.

"There's a huge one along my back that hurts something fierce when I move suddenly, but other than that—I'm fine."

"Hmm," Lynn responded, "I've got some ace bandages upstairs and we can ice your side for awhile to keep the swelling and tenderness down."

"I've got a date at seven tonight," Sam said, "Icing bruises takes forever! And I still need to shower. I smell like transmission fluid and oil. I also have to cook some stuff for—"

Jeff grinned at his son. He seemed so happy and panicked at the same time; thinking that Lynn would make him miss his date with Mercedes. Judging by the twinkle in Lynn's eyes, she wanted to mess with Sam a little bit. She gave him a playful look and Jeff winked back at her.

"I don't know, Sam," she said with a shake of her head. "You're not going anywhere for the next two weeks. You're grounded."

His eye popped wide open and Sam sat up immediately. "I'm _what_?" he exclaimed—glancing between Lynn and him. Jeff was dying of laughter on the inside as Lynn shot his son a stern glare.

"You got into a fight and you think we're going to let you off scot free?" she asked. Sam looked like he was about to pass out from dismay.

"But—_Mercedes_—"

"You're gonna have to call her and cancel, buddy," Jeff interjected and Sam seemed to shrink in his seat. Lynn turned to walk out of the room in order to get the ace bandages from her bathroom. It was an extremely long silence, and Jeff thought his inner troll was enjoying the look on Sam's face a little bit too much.

When Lynn came back, she had Ziploc bags full of ice and bandages in her arms. Sam looked like he was about to cry.

"Sam, we're _kidding_," Jeff finally said and the joy that shot through Sam's eyes made him laugh. Lynn was laughing right alongside him.

"Put that ice pack down for a second and off with your shirt," Lynn ordered, "I need to see this bruise." With a relieved sigh, Sam stood up and did as she asked. The two of them sucked in a sharp breath when they spotted the large bruise that spread across Sam's side and lower back.

"When you said huge, I wasn't expecting this large!" Lynn said, before getting to work. "Ice back on your eye, Sam."

Jeff passed the ice pack to his son and Sam pressed it against his face. Lynn pulled a chair to Sam's side and began wrapping his torso in a thin layer of ace bandages.

"Why do you smell like cars?" Jeff asked as he leaned his hip against the edge of the table. Sam looked at him with his one open eye. He winced when Lynn pulled the bandages tight and she whispered a distracted apology as she pinned it together.

"I went to Mr. Hummel's Auto shop today," Sam answered, "And I applied for a job there."

"Why?" Jeff replied, "I thought we told you less hours, Samuel. Not go out and get another—"

"I applied so I could quit my job at the Pizza Parlor," Sam interrupted. "I got the job. He hired me for eight hours a week—four on Mondays and Wednesdays from 1 to 5. I already put in my two week notice at the Parlor, but they only need me to finish out my shifts until Sunday night, and I'm officially done with them."

Jeff stared for a moment, before he shot his son a proud smile. Sam blushed, but his face lit up.

"Congratulations muffin head," Jeff told him and Sam glared at him with one eye. Lynn was beaming at Sam until something obviously occurred to her.

"Ugh," Lynn groaned. They both stared at her. "I just realized that we need to go shopping."

_What?_ Jeff cocked his head to the side in confusion and Sam mirrored his expression. How did Sam's announcement and shopping go together?

"Well," Lynn added, "Now that you_ can_ do the sports camps, I assume you're willing to actually do them?"

Sam nodded slowly, before trading a look with Jeff. Neither of them had any idea where this was going. Lynn looked exasperated as she pressed a Ziploc full of ice to Sam's side and wrapped a bandage around it.

"You're going to need clothes for baseball, basketball, and soccer—plus new running shoes; and now I'm going to have to get you stuff to wear to work, because I'll be damned if you wear all your clothes to work and get them all stained. And I have to worry about dance and soccer stuff for Stacey and swim stuff for Stevie—"Lynn trailed off into muttering as she wrapped Sam's side.

Jeff was aghast and Sam looked just as taken aback as he did. _Was she really going to spend all that money on this stuff?_ Jeff laughed it off; there was no way he would be able to talk her out of it. Sam looked helpless, but he just held the icepack on his eye.

Jeff could see him praying that he'd be able to pick Mercedes up on time. Jeff was sure that he'd be fine. He watched as Lynn and Sam bickered over what clothes she needed to buy—an easy smile on his face.

They were certainly an odd family unit, but it was theirs and so far—it worked just as it needed to; if not better—

"Jeff, have you drunk anymore water?" Lynn's voice interrupted his train of thought and Jeff groaned.

"Do I really have to?"

"_Jeffrey!"_

"Do I really need any more ice?"

"I've barely put any on you—"

"If I keep going to the bathroom every thirty minutes, my privates are going to launch a protest—"

"I've got to get ready for a date in less than two hours—"

"You won't have a date if I ground your bottom—"

"But Lynn, you love me and Mercedes—"

"Jeff, drink the water!"

"Is it possible to get a water hangover?"

"Jeff!"

"I feel like a walking ice machine—"

"Sam!"

Oh yeah, they were definitely a family.

* * *

><p><strong>May 26, 2011 (Friday)<strong>

**Paradise Park**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:27PM**

Sam opened the car door for Mercedes—grateful that Lynn had allowed him to borrow her car for the night. He really didn't want his truck to break down on the side of the road somewhere. Though she was his girlfriend, this was only their third official date and he didn't want to leave that sort of impression in her mind.

Being poor was bad enough; he could at least be creative and show her a great time.

She slipped her hand in his and he helped her out of the vehicle. Sam couldn't help but let his eyes roam over her figure. She looked _stunning._

Mercedes was wearing a black lace dress that had a silky black layer underneath that stopped it from being see-through. The dress had a sweetheart neckline with three bronze buttons trailing down from the dip in the valley between her breasts to the top of the empire waist line. That area looked far too enticing for Sam to be comfortable with. The fabric of the dress ghosted along the line of her hips and it made her curves softer, but no less beautiful.

She wore a yellow and gold vertical-striped sweater over it; the fabric shimmering slightly in the moonlight. The colors made her brown skin glow. She was wearing a pair of cork wedge heels that had a silky black ribbon laced all the way up her calves. The ribbon tied into a bow just below the back of her knees.

Her hair was in light curls and her bangs had been clipped to the side of her head with a single bobby pin. It had taken every ounce of his will power to stop himself from gaping when he'd picked her up this evening.

Sam still wasn't sure how successful he'd been, but the twinkle in Mercedes' brown eyes told him that he'd done something right. He closed the door behind her and used his free hand to grab the picnic basket from the back seat of the car.

Then he nudged the back door shut with his hip, and twined his fingers with Mercedes'. She raised an eyebrow at him and he smiled back.

"Don't worry," Sam said, "I'll make this evening worth your time."

Mercedes laughed softly as he began leading her up the paved pathway towards the hilly side of the park. "I don't doubt that," Mercedes responded, "but I'm trying to figure out what's going on in that blond head of yours. Nighttime picnics seem to be more of Rachel and Finn's thing—"

Sam made a noise of discontent and Mercedes stopped talking abruptly. "I don't think so," he said, "Rachel wants a re-enactment of every romantic drama that she's ever seen." Sam stopped for a moment to turn around and look at his girlfriend.

She wasn't expecting the abrupt halt in motion and collided softly with his chest—a surprised expression on her face. Sam took the moment to stare into her brown eyes, before pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

"This," Sam said, "will be nothing as fake as what Rachel wants."

"Please don't talk about Rachel when you're about to kiss me," Mercedes said with a touch of sass in her voice. Sam blinked and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"But I wasn't about to—"

He shut up when Mercedes gave him a look of fond amusement and Sam grinned down at her, before he leaned over and kissed her—it was just as gentle as the first one, but longer.

He pulled back and Mercedes stood on her tip-toes to press another kiss against his mouth. He smiled at her in amusement. The playful twinkle in her eyes made his heart swell with affection for her.

"As much as I'd love to just stand here and kiss you all night," Sam whispered, resting his forehead against hers as she placed a hand on his chest. "There's food in this basket and I really don't think you'll appreciate it if I let it get cold."

Mercedes pouted and Sam chuckled. He placed a quick kiss on her lips, before turning around and pulling her along behind him once again. They walked in a comfortable silence as Sam led Mercedes to his favorite place in the park.

She looked dubious when they made their way through a slightly overgrown path through a patch of trees and shrubbery. "Are you planning on killing me?"

"Nope," he replied, "You're much cuter alive." Sam brushed a stray branch out of the way and let Mercedes walk past him onto the embankment. She glanced over her shoulder at him with a smirk.

"Good to know," she said. Sam only smiled and nodded his head towards the scene behind her. When she noticed—she gasped and he saw her jaw drop slightly.

The view of the city from the hills by Paradise Park was spectacular. The lights beamed against the darkness of the sky and it gave the whole area a surreal feeling. Sam couldn't help but grin at her astonishment. _Maybe this date would be just as perfect as he was hoping it would be._

* * *

><p>"How did you find this?" she asked—Mercedes was entranced by the sight. She'd thought that after New York, she would never get the chance to see a skyline as pretty. And this one wasn't a true comparison to the grandeur that was New York, but it was a part of home and that made it even more special to her.<p>

Sam walked past her—closer to the edge of the hill and he placed the basket at his feet.

"It was one of the first things I found when my family moved here," he admitted softly. Mercedes almost lost Sam's voice in the breeze, but she managed to hear him. Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she admired the figure he cut. He was wearing a short-sleeved navy blue t-shirt with a pair of light wash jeans. He had on his red chucks and a red hoody. Mercedes thought he looked extremely handsome.

"I was so angry to be pulled away from my friends," Sam said and Mercedes felt herself being drawn closer to his figure. "I didn't know why we were being moved here, but I wasn't exactly happy about suddenly being taken from my whole life. So, I walked around and ended up finding this place."

Sam reached out and gently grabbed Mercedes' hand. He tugged at her fingers until she'd moved in front of him and he wrapped her up in his arms. The feel of his heart beating against her back, his chin on the top of her head, and his arms around her waist nearly brought tears to her eyes. It still felt unreal to be in this situation, and she was going to enjoy the hell out of it.

"It's been my escape for awhile," Sam told her, "I didn't have to be anyone but Sam when I was here. I came here sometimes when the fights got really bad between my parents or if everything was just too much. I would just sit here and remind myself of the reason I woke up in the morning and smiled."

"Does anyone else know about this place?"

Sam chuckled softly and pressed a kiss to the back of her head. She felt the rumble of laughter move down his chest.

"Just me," Sam replied, "and now, you. I trust you to love it as much as I do." Mercedes' heart almost burst. _How was this boy real?_

Sam let go of her after placing another kiss on the back of her head. He walked over to the basket; flipping the lid open and he pulled out two blankets.

"Do you need any help?" Mercedes asked and Sam shot her a look. "What?"

"Go look around," Sam replied, "I'll take care of this. You don't need to be doing anything right now except being sufficiently impressed and being wooed by my awesomeness."

"Boy," Mercedes said with a laugh, "you are too much."

"You like it," Sam answered. He winked at her and the action made her smile. She walked away from him before she leapt on him and kissed him senseless. Even though his eye was still quite swollen, Sam looked as handsome as ever. It was kind of unfair.

Mercedes stared around the area—admiring the flowers and trees and the sheer number of stars that were visible from here. She had gotten so lost in her observations that she didn't notice Sam calling her name.

"Nala!" Sam said; she could hear the amusement in his voice as she whipped around to look at him. Her face was warm and she was sure that he knew she was blushing. Mercedes moved quickly to his side. He grinned down at her and she wrinkled her nose at his silent teasing.

"For you, my lady," he told her—his arm sweeping out to the side as he gestured to her surprise. Mercedes followed his movement with her eyes and she smiled when she spotted the blanket spread out on the ground. A glowing lantern sat next to the wicker basket Sam had carried, but it was the vase of sunflowers and the two plates full of food that brought tears to her eyes.

"Sam," she breathed in amazement. It was so cheesy, but it was also the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. He'd brought all of her favorite foods—chicken nuggets and tater tots. He'd also prepared green beans—a shared favorite of theirs. He even remembered her favorite flower.

"Are those cherry juice boxes?" Mercedes asked and Sam nodded, before she let out a laugh. There was a Ziploc of carrots next to each plate and apparently, snicker-doodles for dessert. It was the best mix of all their favorite things that she'd ever seen.

_What had she done to deserve a guy who was so incredibly sweet?_

With a bright smile, Mercedes stood on her tip-toes and pressed a kiss to Sam's cheek. He looked down at her, a nervous expression on his face.

"I know it's not as extravagant or amazing as New York was, but—"

"Sam," Mercedes interrupted him—placing a finger against his lips. Even with his black eye, he looked so beautiful to her. "It's _perfect_." Sam stared into her eyes for a moment, and she let him see everything she was feeling—appreciation, adoration, attraction; it was all for him. A slow grin spread over his face and Mercedes laughed at the way his eyes danced with pride.

"Shall we?" he asked, lifting a hand in front of her for her to grab.

"Yes, we shall," she replied, smiling as she placed her hand in his. Sam escorted her to her place on the blanket and helped her sit down. He spread the second blanket over her lap, before moving to his side of the picnic area.

They dug into the food almost immediately and Mercedes loved every single bite. They talked about their day as they ate—Sam making Mercedes laugh so hard during one of his stories about playing basketball with his dad that she barely avoided choking on a green bean.

Mercedes loved that Lynn seemed to make the Evans family so happy—her aunt was always wonderful. When Sam recounted his dad and Lynn's reaction to seeing him today, Mercedes had to put her food down because she couldn't breathe through her giggles.

Mercedes made sure to tell him about applying for the summer camp job and then she told him about her girl-date with Quinn and how the blonde reacted to the story as well. Sam's face was red by the time he heard Quinn's threats against Kurt. He looked so amused. It was good to hear him laugh.

Sam told her all about his adventure with Papa Burt. She was flattered to hear that Burt still considered her family, but thinking about him brought back her negative feelings towards Kurt, but she was happy that Sam now had a job he'd enjoy.

"Wait—are you still working at the Pizza Parlor?" she asked in concern. Yes, it was summer, but she didn't want Sam to overwork himself; especially not at a place that he didn't like. Sam updated her on how his boss was already in the process of hiring someone new, so they were letting him leave on Sunday instead of working for the next two weeks.

Mercedes was relieved and proud of him—she had all faith that he'd do a great job at the auto shop. They chatted about anything and everything that came to mind, and when dinner was finished; Mercedes helped Sam pack away the dirty dishes.

She was surprised when he crawled over to her and laid down close enough for their sides to touch. Sam opened his arms to her and she willingly laid down next to him—throwing the blanket over both their bodies. Mercedes rested her head on Sam's chest as he wrapped an arm around her waist and then put his other underneath his head.

"You are the cuddliest boy I've ever met, Sam," she told him in amusement. Sam lightly squeezed her side in acknowledgement.

"I regret nothing," he replied and Mercedes laughed. She could hear his heartbeat under her ear. It was strong and steady and it put a smile on her face. _How amazing was this boy?_

They laid there for awhile in silence—just holding each other. Mercedes had never felt more at peace than she was right now. Sam had changed her life. He wasn't with her every moment, but he gave her courage. He made her acknowledge her strength and he showed her that she could be Mercedes Jones, and still be loved.

Sam made Mercedes feel desirable and it was a feeling that was as new as it was exciting. He didn't even have to say anything anymore for her to know what he was thinking. All he had to do was look at her with those green eyes of his and she felt so many emotions that she thought she'd burst.

"Come with me," Sam said as he gently urged her to sit up from their prone position. Mercedes sat up, but she gave him a confused glance. Sam gave her a soft smile. "There's something I've wanted to do for awhile now."

Mercedes blinked in surprise—her eyebrows arching upwards. Sam looked bewildered for a moment, before he blushed furiously. "Nothing like that!" he protested and then his eyes widened even more. "Not that I don't want to do _that _with you, but shit—"

Mercedes giggled and he snapped his mouth shut; his face bright red in the glowing light of the lantern. "It's okay Sam," she replied, "what did you want to do?"

He still looked embarrassed, but he got himself to his feet and offered her both of his hands. "It's a bit of a walk, but I think you'll like it."

"I'm sure I will," Mercedes said as Sam lifted her off the ground. He pulled up both blankets and folded them quickly. She helped him shove them back into the picnic basket and he grabbed the lantern in his hand. Mercedes took the basket and then Sam entwined the fingers of their free hands together.

They walked side-by-side along the path they had come and down the hillside once again. Mercedes started recognizing the area again when they passed the lake and came to the big tree and picnic tables that they'd been at all those weeks ago.

Sam led her to the wooden table and placed the lantern down, before guiding her to the bench. Mercedes wasn't sure what was going on, but she sat down and let Sam take the picnic basket from her hands.

When he dropped to both knees in front of her, she would be lying if she said that her eyes didn't get huge. She had a hell of a lot of feelings for Sam, but Blondie was sipping on crack if he was about to propose and thought she'd say yes.

She gave him the benefit of the doubt and kept her mouth shut as he reached out for her leg. Mercedes face got hot when she felt his slightly rough fingertips on the back of her knee and she stared at him dubiously—and slightly turned on.

"Sam," she squeaked, "What are you doing?"

Sam's face was pink too, but he didn't stop when he undid the bow of her shoe's ribbon. He took his time unwrapping the ribbon from her around her skin. Mercedes felt like her face was on fire—she should not want to jump her boyfriend right now. He was just unlacing her shoe, and touching her skin softly—and shit, she was happy that she had shaved again right before this.

The thought of Sam possibly feeling her leg hair stubble put a grimace on her face, but it was replaced by a soft inhale when Sam's fingers brushed all the way down her calf and then he softly pulled her shoe off.

She would never be able to take her shoes off the same way ever again.

Mercedes lightly squirmed on the bench; certain parts of her body warmer than they should be. If the first side was bad, the second was worse, because now she was expecting the arousing effects of Sam's soft touches and it was driving her crazy.

She waited until Sam tugged off her shoe and placed both on the bench next to her, before she said something. "Alright Blondie," she asked, "What's going on?"

"We're going to go play," Sam replied, his voice much deeper than it was normally. He looked up at her and Mercedes had to swallow hard at the sight of the desire in his green eyes. It should be illegal to look that sexy with a freakin' black eye.

_What the hell, God? How was that even fair?_

"Play?" she blurted. "Play where?"

Sam was in the process of pulling off his chucks. "On the playground," he replied—an amused smirk crossing his lips. Mercedes wanted to kiss it off his face—_okay, what the fuck was wrong with her? Kiss it off his face? Really?_ That was some romantic stuff right there.

She blushed at her own thoughts. Thank all that was holy that Sam couldn't read her mind.

Sam nodded in the opposite direction of where they were sitting and she followed the motion. She remembered the playground from the first time they'd been here. Stacey and Stevie had played here—she could still hear the sound of their laughter.

Sam stood up from his spot on the ground—now barefoot. He put his shoes next to hers on the bench, before offering her his hands again. Mercedes took them reflexively and he pulled her up off the bench.

Sam held her hands as he walked backwards towards the playground.

"Why are we playing on a playground?" Mercedes asked skeptically, but she was totally eyeing the swing set over Sam's shoulder—

"Because you told me that swinging made you feel closer to God," Sam answered and Mercedes stared at him in shock. _He remembered that?_ "And if anyone deserves to feel that kind of joy—it's you, Nala."

This boy was_ perfect_. He may have imperfections, but Sam was perfect in every way that mattered. She opened her mouth to tell him such and then Sam disappeared from her view. He hit the ground with a loud curse and Mercedes almost fell too, but she managed to steady herself.

"_What—"_Mercedes exclaimed and then she started cackling when she saw the fallen tree branch that Sam had tripped over. His face was bright red as he lay sprawled out on the grass, and Mercedes was laughing so hard that she thought she was going to die.

"Are you—uh—okay?" she gasped out as she leaned over to help him back up. Sam looked disgruntled and slightly embarrassed, but he took her laughter in good humor.

"Now that I've been brought back down to earth," Sam said—making Mercedes laugh again. "I think it's time for me to kick your ass on the swings."

Mercedes gave him a look full of sass. "You really think that you're going to beat _me_ in a swing race, Blondie?"

Sam raised an eyebrow in challenge and Mercedes poked him in the chest.

"Bring it, Sam," she told him, before she hip checked him and sprinted towards the playground. Sam barely moved, but it was enough to distract him and allow her to get a head start.

"Cede!" Sam yelled and Mercedes laughed as she ran faster towards the swing set. She heard him start running behind her. She crossed from grass to sand sooner than she expected, but she laughed when she saw Sam blow past her.

"Sam!" she cried before throwing herself towards the swings.

The two of them spent over an hour racing each other on the swings, climbing the monkey bars, and sliding down the slide. At one point, Sam started pushing her on the swing and Mercedes had never felt so light or free before. Most of the time they were laughing or taunting each other—she foolishly thought that New York was the best, but every date with Sam seemed to be better than the last.

Mercedes thought she was going to die when he made her get on the spin-wheel, but he stopped before she could start feeling sick. It was only when she had climbed up the jungle gym to go down the slide again that the playful atmosphere changed into something different.

"How now, fair maiden?" Sam's voice called to her. She peered over the side of the jungle gym and smiled when she saw him staring up at her from the ground. His hands were in his jeans pockets, but the expression on his face was earnest.

"I am well, kind knight," she replied—playing along because it was Sam and only he would decide to do something like this. Her boyfriend was such a dork. She liked him that way. "How art thou?"

"I am no knight, maiden," Sam told her—his voice wistful and sad. "I am but the penniless son of a poor man." Mercedes leaned over the railing and stared down at him. He had to know that she didn't care about his money. She was with him because he was _Sam_. That was more than anything she could ever ask for.

"Riches do not make you worthy of my attention," Mercedes answered, "Honesty, courage, intelligence—those are the traits that I do seek. And you, kind sir, _you_ have them in spades."

"My heart quickens at the sound of your voice—I find that I am enraptured by your grace," Sam responded and Mercedes blushed deeply. This was the boy who said that he was horrendous in English class? Santana and Quinn needed to reevaluate their life choices if they thought Sam didn't have game. "Do you know how your beauty outshines the glistening moon? You have eyes as _deep _and as warm as a pool of melted chocolate—you own my affection."

Her fairytale moment—something she had dreamed of since she was a young child. Sam had given so much to her. He'd made her see how amazing being with someone could be.

Staring down into Sam's eyes, Mercedes heart felt as though it was filled to capacity. How could she care so much about one person? Was this _love_ that made her heart pound and her palms sweat? Was this _love_ that had tears gathering in her eyes?

"You have my heart," she replied and Sam's green eyes lit up as he smiled.

Heart-pounding, Mercedes moved along the railing—Sam following her as she moved across the jungle gym. "You are a handsome prince," she said as she climbed up a level, "even_ without_ the royal blood—your heart is pure gold—vibrant and shimmering."

She peered back down at him over the railing and Sam stared up at her.

"Do you truly think this of me? My value surely cannot be so great."

"_**Tears**_," Mercedes exclaimed as she raced up another two platforms. "Your glorious presence makes droplets of salt and affection build upon my lashes! How can such a wondrous being_ not_ see his worth? _Never before_ have I felt as much as I do now."

Mercedes finally reached the top of the slide and she looked down to see Sam standing at the end of it. Feeling like she was leaping off a precipice, Mercedes watched him with a steady gaze. It felt like she was making a decision here; what could possibly be so significant about sliding down this slide and being in Sam's arms?

Nothing changed, and yet—everything was different.

Without hesitation, Mercedes slid down and Sam's hands on her hips caught her in her prone position on the plastic slide. His body was leaning over hers, his knees pressed against the edge of the slide. Their gazes locked together and Mercedes felt her breath catch as he let his forehead touch hers.

His soft hair lightly tickled her skin, but it made her smile.

"I didn't get to rescue you," Sam whispered—his green eyes full of dancing with so many emotions that Mercedes couldn't decipher them all. She cupped his face with the palms of her hands, and Sam nuzzled his face into the touch—turning his head to press a kiss to her skin.

"I'm a _princess_," Mercedes replied softly, "Not a damsel in distress." His eyes flashed in amusement as they settled back on hers. The grin that spread across Sam's face made her cheeks burn.

"Do you really think of me that way?" he asked.

"Yes," she responded, "Do you think of me that way?"

"Absolutely," Sam answered. He was still smiling when Mercedes lifted herself to place the softest of soft kisses on his lips. Sam responded with a soft exhale and a tender smile, before he gripped the sides of the slide and brought their mouths together in another kiss.

Their kisses were slow and so deep that Mercedes had shivers over her entire body. His tongue twined with hers in a sensual caress that had her letting out a soft moan. Sam had kissed her hard before. They had made out several times by this point, but there was something electric about this time.

Mercedes felt as though she was on a slow burn as her hands went from his jaw and to his hair. Her legs spread and Sam's hips fell perfectly in between hers. Their kisses were still slow, but they set everything on fire. She could feel his warmth as he rested more of his weight against her.

She gasped when he finally detached his mouth from hers and trailed kisses down the side of her jaw and neck. Sam sucked on that one mystery spot he'd found last weekend and Mercedes' eyes rolled.

She arched her back and moved her head to the side—needing and wanting more of his mouth on her skin. Sam sucked at her skin and nibbled his way down to her collarbone, before Mercedes tugged on his hair and dragged his mouth back to hers.

Their lip lock was faster this time—lips meshing together and pulling apart for quick breaths of air. Mercedes' body was tingling. _What the hell was Sam's mouth doing to her?_ She'd never been so aroused before in her life.

Mercedes sucked on Sam's bottom lip as she moved one of her hands to his chest. Sam groaned and instinctually pressed his hips against hers. She let out a gasping moan when she felt him hard and hot against her—and there was nothing but clothing separating their lower body.

Sam's eyes snapped open, but Mercedes didn't let him move. "It's—okay," she said and Sam stared down at her. "It's okay." Sam waited a few more seconds and Mercedes was scared that he'd move away from her anyway. That was the last thing she wanted.

They had been together officially for two weeks, but they'd been 'dating' for almost a month now. And yeah, she was scared shitless, but she wanted him to touch her in some way. She wasn't quite ready for him to _see_ anything just yet, or go that far, but she was a horny seventeen year old girl and she wanted some kind of contact.

Mercedes was relieved when Sam's lips caught hers in another hard kiss and their passion returned with a rush that almost drugged her. She was surprised when Sam's hands moved back to her waist and then he fucking _lifted_ her off the slide.

She squeaked in fear—her legs automatically wrapping around his waist, but he held her steady as he turned them around and then Sam sat on the slide; Mercedes in his lap. She stared down at him in shock and Sam smirked at her, before he pulled her into another kiss.

This position really introduced Mercedes to how turned on Sam was and also how—ahem—large he was. She briefly wondered about how all that would fit if they had sex, but the thought practically burned her mind with lust. She shook it off and returned to the present.

Sam was making out with her now. She could worry about the logistics of sex later. The kiss heated up, and Sam's hands trailed up her sides over the fabric of her dress. It felt like he was burning her through the cloth and she leaned into his mouth even more.

She was putting her all into their kisses—giving back as much as she received from Sam. When Sam's hands drifted to the sides of her breasts, she moaned into his mouth and Sam's hips twitched under hers.

Mercedes, in a rush of bravery and arousal, removed her hands from Sam's hair and dragged Sam's hands all the way onto her chest. She almost died when his thumb brushed over the area where her nipples were pushing against the cup of her bra.

His hands felt like solid heat and her whole body was on fire. She'd never felt this kind of burn before—everything was hypersensitive and attuned to Sam's touch. She broke their kiss to gasp when he squeezed lightly and she pressed his hands harder to her.

Sam groaned and Mercedes shifted her hips at the sound. The sensations that tore through her put her in a daze. _What was this feeling?_ She had never felt so powerless, yet powerful before.

Sam's lips pressed against her collarbone and Mercedes whimpered as his tongue traced circles across her bare skin. He cussed when she ground her hips against his and then he pulled back.

"Mercedes," Sam said—his voice was husky and reminiscent of a growl. The sound made heat pool in her center. "We have to stop."

"Sam," she practically whined. She wanted more—she needed more. Her body was straining for that point just beyond the horizon. She wasn't sure that she could wait until she was alone. She wanted Sam; just Sam, but maybe her mind was clouded.

"Babe," Sam replied as he cupped her face. Mercedes was taken aback by the dark green coloring of his eyes and the desire that was flashing through his expression. "I can't go home after doing this with you and expect my parents—I mean my dad and Lynn to not notice."

A weird look crossed Sam's face for a moment, but Mercedes couldn't focus enough to really question it. Her thoughts were clearing slowly, and Mercedes knew that he was right. Walking into her house after, getting her grind on with Sam was bound to draw her brothers' wrath to her boyfriend. Sucking in a deep breath, Mercedes nodded in agreement and she let Sam's hands slowly move from her chest.

They shared another slow kiss, being sure to keep it PG.

"Are you sure that this was okay?" Sam asked as Mercedes slid off his lap. "I don't want you to think that you have to do something that you're not ready for."

He looked so worried, but honestly—she was more than fine with what had just gone down. She blushed furiously, but she gave him a smile. "I promise that it wasn't too much," Mercedes replied. "I might not have been ready for the actual, well, you know."

Sam blushed too as he grabbed her hand in his. "But, I liked your hands on me. I won't be scared forever and I'm seventeen, Sam. My hormones are as crazy as yours are."

Sam grinned in reply. "A girl that _admits_ she's horny?" he teased. "I got the woman of a lifetime."

"Damn straight you did," Mercedes said—rolling her eyes at the cheesy grin on his face. He looked sexy as hell though with his kiss swollen lips and his hair was a mess. They would definitely have to clean up in the car.

Mercedes put her shoes back on—both of them deciding that it was wise if Sam _didn't_ help this time and Sam slid his chucks on too. He lifted the picnic basket and they walked hand-in-hand back to Lynn's car. The drive back to her house was silent, but it was comfortable.

Mercedes felt at _home_ with Sam. There was no need for words.

Sam walked her to her front door after they'd double checked their appearances. He wrapped his arms around her waist and Mercedes returned the embrace with her arms around his neck. They stayed in the hug for a long minute—foreheads pressed together and staring into each other's eyes.

"You're beautiful," Sam said and Mercedes smiled at him.

"So are you, Blondie," she replied. Sam blushed lightly, but he grinned before pressing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

"Goodnight, Mercy-mine," he whispered against her mouth. Sam kissed her softly once more before stepping back. Mercedes' heart was in her throat. _He made her feel so wonderful._

"Goodnight, Txe'lan."

Mercedes watched Sam walk away, before she turned to go inside her house—blowing him a kiss goodbye when he sat behind the wheel of the car.

_World's greatest boyfriend: Samuel Evans. _

* * *

><p><strong>May 27, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Lynn's House—Living Room**

**Lima, Ohio**

**10:34AM**

His date with Mercedes had gone even better than he'd expected it to. It was bad that he'd had to take care of certain problems in the shower when he got home, but the memories of their kissing made things happen quickly.

Sam woke up at eight this morning, went for a run, and then he hit the gym with his dad. He felt energized and ready for the day ahead after he'd showered and got dressed in his work uniform.

He had to be at the Pizza Parlor by 11:30 and that left plenty of time for breakfast. It was nice to know that he only had two six-hour shifts left at that place.

Sam checked himself in the mirror—the black polo with the pizzeria logo on the breast pocket, the black dress pants and black leather belt with his red chucks. He looked decent enough. His slowly fading black-eye didn't help, but there was nothing he could do about it. Sam slid on his red hoody and grabbed his work hat off his dresser, before making his way out of his bedroom.

He hummed a song to himself as he walked downstairs. He rummaged around in the kitchen and grabbed a bagel, cream cheese, and pulled out the jug of orange juice from the fridge. While he toasted his bagel, he poured a glass of orange juice and he almost jumped when his little sister spoke his name.

"Sammy?"

He looked over his shoulder and smiled when he spotted her standing in the doorway—a bright grin on her face. "Hey Sunshine," Sam said as he turned back around to put the lid back on the container. Stacey walked over to him; her blonde waves falling over her shoulders.

She was wearing a pair of jeans with flowers printed up the sides and a light green t-shirt that made her blue eyes even bluer. Stacey wrapped her arms around his waist and Sam put his arm around her small shoulders as the toaster dinged.

Stacey rested her cheek against his side while he spread cream cheese on his whole wheat bagel.

"When are you going to sing on a stage again, Sammy?" she asked—peering up at him, a sad expression on her face. That look killed him inside.

"I don't know, Stace," he replied honestly, "but I promise that it'll happen as soon as I find a way."

Stacey sighed, but she nodded. Sam hated disappointing her.

"Are you going to work again?" she asked. "Besides Tuesday morning, I've barely seen you."

She looked so saddened by that and Sam felt guilt drop into his stomach. He had been spending a lot of time away from home. He had spent as much time as possible with Mercedes and then he'd been doing a lot of the website work with Artie and Mike. He'd been hanging out with his friends on a daily basis and with work, and going to visit Cede—he really had just kind of disappeared from their lives.

"Do you not like me anymore?" Stacey asked suddenly, her blue eyes wide as if the thought just occurred to her. Sam was taken aback by the question and he rushed to reassure her when her eyes filled with tears. "Did I do something to make you mad?"

"No!" Sam said as he dropped his bagel onto his plate. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her off his side, so he could kneel in front of her. "I'm not mad at you and I love you, Sunshine. Nothing will ever stop me from loving you, even _if _I was ever mad at you."

"I'm sorry, kiddo," he said, "I know I haven't been around lately, and it wasn't your fault at all—I just got caught up in my own life and stopped thinking of you guys all the time. I promise to make it up to you."

He had forgotten how attached Stevie and Stacey had gotten to him. They went from seeing his face almost every day and every afternoon—to barely seeing him. Sam felt like the world's biggest asshole. He had gotten sucked into the whirlwind of friends and romance that he'd momentarily forgot that the twins needed him—they were used to his presence.

He'd be fixing that one.

"Are you gonna be home this afternoon?" Stacey asked—her eyes lighting up. "We can play a game of Candy land—"Sam was about to say yes, until he remembered Mercedes' party that night. One he'd already promised that he'd go to when she texted him that morning.

He bit his lip and said, "Stacey, I—"A frown took over her expression and she backed away from him.

"You're not going to be here, are you?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but Stacey shook her head. "Leave me alone, Sam," she told him, her eyes watering.

Sam stood up. "Stace—"

"No!" she yelled before she turned on her heel and ran out of the room.

"Damn it," he said under his breath. _Good mood ruined._ He picked up his plate and walked out of the kitchen; only stopping when he saw Lynn sitting in the middle of the living room, papers spread all around her, but she was staring at him—her eyebrows raised.

"What was that about?" she asked and Sam sighed as he walked around the side of the sofa and plopped down.

"Me being an ass," Sam replied. She gave him a sharp look for his language and Sam blushed. "Case in point, but sorry, Lynn."

Lynn smiled softly in response. "What happened, darlin'?"

"She's upset because I've barely been around them for the past week—and she has a good point. I guess I forgot how close we got while we lived in that motel room."

"Sam," Lynn said, "I understand why Stacey's upset, but you can't live your life inside a house. Making an effort to spend more time with them would be wonderful, but you wouldn't be happy if you went back to how you were."

"They're my family!" Sam protested, "They're the most important thing to me."

"As they should be," Lynn agreed, which deflated Sam's indignation, "but you were being a parental figure then, and sweetheart, your depression was written all over your face."

Sam didn't quite know what to think.

"Sam, you should be proud that you stepped up to the plate when they needed you to. Your dad is. I am too. But, you weren't any more prepared or ready to be a parent then than you are right now. That kind of responsibility is a heavy burden to anyone. You're a teenager—it's perfectly acceptable for you to be too selfish right now to be a good parent."

"I'm not selfish!"

"I didn't say it as an insult, but darlin', it's impossible to be able to go from teenager to parent in a matter of days. Parenthood is difficult enough after you've lived your life and made the conscious decision to start a family. You are eighteen years old, and I want you to be eighteen years old."

"I still feel bad about ditching them," Sam admitted.

Lynn laughed softly. "That's natural and it's going to feel like that for awhile, but don't ignore your life to try and fill that parental role again. Unless you can honestly tell me that you're ready to pay bills, calm tantrums, punish them, and give up your life for theirs without having a single regret—then go ahead."

Sam swallowed hard. In the middle of the situation, it was difficult to do all those things, but he did so out of love and honestly, because he had to. Becoming a father at eighteen wasn't a choice he would make without those circumstances.

It almost felt shameful to admit it, but at the same time, it was a relief to acknowledge his limitations. When Sam shook his head, Lynn nodded and gave him a look of amusement.

"I understand, darlin'," she replied and Sam shot her a weak smile. "You're just going to have to talk with Stacey. Let her know that you love her, and maybe show that handsome face of yours around the house more often?"

Sam blushed at the compliment, but he nodded. "I might come home early from Mercedes' party tonight then. It's about time I reminded Stacey who the Candy land champion was, anyway."

Lynn laughed and Sam eyed her as she started scribbling something on her notepad. "What are you doing?" he asked, before taking a bite of his bagel.

"I'm trying to find someone to perform during the opening event," Lynn replied, her voice sounding distracted. "But everyone is either booked or it's too late to reserve them because of short notice!" A tick of frustration made her tighten her jaw and Sam paused mid-bite.

"When you say_ performing_, what do you mean?" he asked—a ridiculous idea forming in his head. Lynn kept clicking around on her laptop.

"Singing, dancing, spoken word, _contortion_," Lynn said, "I'd go for pretty much anything at this point." She stopped to give him a look. "This is why you shouldn't procrastinate!"

Sam grinned at her and she went back to her computer. There was a slim chance that it would happen, but what if he could get the Glee club to perform for Lynn's opening night? It would fulfill his promise to Stacey about seeing him sing on a stage and it would help Lynn out. It was worth a shot.

"What if the Glee club performed?" Sam questioned and Lynn froze. She turned towards him slowly and Sam shrugged sheepishly at the growing excitement on her face.

"Oh, that would be wonderful!" she exclaimed, "Do you think they would? It's two weeks away, so it'd be a bit of a time crunch, but that would be amazing if you could make it happen."

She talked as though the Glee club didn't do _everything_ last minute. Sam almost laughed, but he kept his amusement wrapped up tight. "I don't know for sure, but it won't hurt to ask."

"Thank you, Sam!" she said, clapping her hands together. "Let me know when you find out."

Sam nodded and replied, "They're all going to Cede's party tonight, so I'll ask then."

Lynn beamed at him, before she turned back to her laptop. A frown crossed her face, and she said, "Don't you have to be at work by 11:30?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, "Why?"

"It's five after eleven," Lynn responded in amusement.

"Crap!" Sam said as he stood up. Lynn opened her arms, demanding a hug, and Sam gave her one, before he ran out of the room to put his empty plate in the sink.

"Did you have any fruit with that bagel?" Lynn called to him. Sam blanched for a moment.

"Uh, _no_," he answered and he could practically feel Lynn's glare through the wall.

"I don't think I have to tell you what to do, Sam," Lynn sing-songed from the living room. Sam laughed to himself but obeyed her unspoken order. He dashed out of the kitchen, already biting into an apple from the basket.

"Take my car!" she said and he nodded, grabbing her keys off the rack. "I still have to get your truck fixed."

"Thanks Lynn! Bye!"

"Bye, darlin'!"

* * *

><p><strong>May 27, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Breadstix**

**Lima, Ohio**

**12:22PM**

"Before you sit down, Wheezy, I'm going to have to make myself clear," Santana drawled as soon as she and Quinn walked up to the table. Mercedes shot Santana a wry look, before flapping her hand in her direction. "I want the breadsticks," she said, "And I want them_ all_. I played nice at your party, and now I want my reward."

Quinn looked exasperated and Tina snorted as she dropped into the booth and slid all the way over to the wall. Quinn followed her.

"Whatever, San," she told the girl, "You can have the breadsticks."

"_All _of the breadsticks?" Santana asked, her eyebrows raised high on her forehead.

"You can have all of _Mercy's_ breadsticks," Quinn cut in as Mercedes plopped down on the cushioned bench and slid next to her. "You aren't touching my share."

The blonde shot Santana a sassy quirk of the lips that earned her an eye roll from the Latina.

"You needs all the breadsticks you can get, bean pole," Santana muttered.

"You aren't touchin' mine either," Tina said, "Mike always steals my share of the breadsticks when we come here, so I'm eating all of mine today!"

Quinn laughed at the serious look on Tina's face. Brittany bounced lightly in her seat next to Santana, before reaching out and putting her hand on top of the other girl's.

"Don't worry, Santana," Brittany said sweetly, "You can have all of my breadsticks and some of my soda."

"Thanks Britt-Britt," Santana replied—_and was that a slight blush on her cheeks?_ Mercedes shared a knowing look with Quinn, who bit her lip to hide a smile. She wondered why those two didn't just admit that they were together—but she couldn't exactly speak up about that; she'd be a hypocrite of the highest caliber.

"I don't see how you manage to eat all of those breadsticks and not look more like _Santa_ than Santana, anyway," Tina cracked and Mercedes almost died of sudden laughter. Quinn wasn't doing much better than her. Santana looked both surprised and offended. Tina was grinning.

"Oh, we get plenty of exercise," Brittany explained with a nod, "Sex burns a lot of calories—or that's what Santana told me."

Tina coughed and Mercedes' head was thrown back in laughter. Santana looked like she was about to pass out from embarrassment, and Quinn was crying.

"You done?" Santana asked snidely, once Mercedes managed to breathe properly again. "So now you guys know—Brittany and I get our lady kisses on. It doesn't mean that I'm _lesbian_." Mercedes was worried about the trepidation she heard in Santana's voice when she said that word. It wasn't like being attracted to girls was a_ bad_ thing. The self-hatred pouring off Santana's demeanor broke Mercedes' heart, but she obviously wasn't ready to say anything about it.

Mercedes tried to lighten the situation. "San, do you really think we'd care, even if you are?"

Santana's lip curled in response. "Finnocence and hobbit might have something to say—"

"Finn's _brother_ is as gay as they come," Tina threw in—a deadpan expression on her face. "He would be an idiot to try and point fingers—"

"Can we please_ not_ talk about Kurt?" Quinn snapped, "He's a full grown idiot that deserves—"

"Rachel has two dads; she wouldn't have a leg to stand on," Mercedes spoke up before Quinn could get lost in her rage. She shot a pointed look at the blonde, who huffed in response. Mercedes turned her attention back to Santana. "We can all see how much you care for each other, and_ if _you were together," Mercedes said, "there'd be nothing but happiness from my end."

Santana's expression was unreadable, but Mercedes let the topic drop when a waiter approached their table with a tray of breadsticks. The Latina's eyes lit up.

"Can you give us ours first, sir?" Tina said, "The breadstick-pirate over there will try to jack all my food if you don't."

The waiter looked taken aback, but he did as she asked. Santana looked pouty as Quinn and Tina pulled their breadsticks close and started munching immediately. Mercedes handed hers over to Santana at the same time as the waiter handed the girl her own plate. She looked like she was in heaven.

Brittany smiled when she got hers and she handed one to Mercedes, took another for herself, and then pushed the box over to Santana. The expression on Santana's face almost made Mercedes choke on her laughter as she ordered water for all of them.

"You guys just freaked the hell out of that poor waiter," Mercedes told them as soon as the waiter hurried away.

"She was going to steal my food," Tina protested around a bite of breadstick. Quinn didn't say anything but she looked like she agreed. Mercedes just laughed at them.

"Hey San, where's Rachel?" Mercedes asked after she finished her breadstick. The Latina rolled her eyes in response.

"The hobbit turned me down flat," Santana said, "_Like I said she would_. She said that she has ballet lessons all afternoon and that Breadstix doesn't have any vegan options that would satisfy her _palate_." The exasperated expression Santana shot Mercedes made her smile.

"It was nice that you invited her anyway," Mercedes responded and Santana flapped a hand at her.

"Yeah, yeah," she said.

Mercedes liked being here with all of them. She knew that Lauren was still at wrestling camp, but she would be back in two weeks. And it was sad that Rachel couldn't take one afternoon off her star-prep to be with them, but she wasn't going to let that ruin her day.

The waiter came back with waters for them all and another serving of breadsticks. Tina ordered a pasta dish. Quinn got their chicken parmesan. Mercedes got a seafood dish. Santana got a hamburger. Brittany ordered spaghetti with extra meatballs.

They handed their menus over and started talking before he even walked away. "So what's got Quinnie in a fit over Porcelain?" Santana asked, "Don't think I didn't notice the attitude you gave earlier."

Mercedes groaned as Quinn's eyes narrowed. "Kurt was being an ass hat," the blonde said and Tina stared.

"Quinn's _cursing_?" Santana asked, "Okay, now you've got to explain."

Mercedes glanced around the table, and when she saw the curious expression on even Brittany's face, she gave in. She spilled the whole story—even telling them what Kurt had said to her that made her cry. Tina's jaw dropped and Santana looked pissed.

She didn't quite know how to respond to the sudden friendship between her and Santana but she wasn't about to complain.

"We're cool, guys," Mercedes said, "I don't know if we'll ever be close again, but we'll be cordial." The admission nearly broke her heart, but as forgiving as she was—she'd never be able to forget the stab of his words and how much pain he'd caused her.

"_Fuck _that," Santana said. Everyone at the table stared at the girl. Santana looked like she was about to start pulling razors out of her hair again. "I will cut all of the hideous bags he owns into _miniature vaginas_ if he even looks at you cross-eyed." Quinn choked on her sip of water.

There was a moment of stunned silence between them. The comment was made even worse because the poor guy serving them had just brought their food to the table. Their waiter looked like he'd been slapped, before Quinn, Tina, and Mercedes cracked up laughing. Tina's whole body was shaking from laughter. Mercedes' chest hurt as she leaned weakly against Quinn's shoulder.

Brittany was giggling and the poor waiter looked mortified as he placed the plates of food on the table. Mercedes had never seen a guy move away so fast. She started laughing again—tears of laughter filling her eyes. Santana was smirking when Quinn laid her head down on the table and giggled so hard that her entire body vibrated.

Mercedes felt winded when she finally regained the ability to breathe again. Her ribs hurt and she had to wipe tears from her cheeks.

"_Vaginas,_ San?" Mercedes asked, before she snorted again.

"What?" Santana asked—her expression completely unrepentant. "There's no better way to horrify a gay man than to throw a vagina at him."

That set them all off once more, and Santana joined in. It took them ten minutes of giggles, snorts, and guffaws to calm themselves down. They started eating their food now that it was safe to attempt to swallow something again, and the conversation flowed easily between the five of them.

They definitely weren't short on laughter.

"I need to find my own thing," Tina said, "I love Mike and everything that his abs have to offer, but I definitely don't want to be the clingy girlfriend."

Santana expressed her agreement. "Unlike the hobbit—"

"Let's avoid Rachel talk," Quinn said, "I'd like to enjoy my meal."

"Why don't you take my dance class?" Brittany asked, slurping a long noodle into her mouth. Mercedes spotted the adoring expression Santana shot the girl, but she kept her observation to herself.

"You have a dance class?" Tina asked.

"Yeah," Brittany replied, "I teach there all the time during the school year. It's a hip hop class."

"I don't know," Tina said, "I'm not the best dancer—"

"Bullshit," Santana replied, "I've seen you gyrating for Twinkle-Toes during our performances. Some of that swag had to have rubbed off while you two were fornicating—"

"That doesn't mean I can hang in one of Brittany's dance classes—"

"I think you should all take my class," Brittany said. Four pairs of eyes focused on her in incredulity. She glanced at them all and shrugged. "_What?_ We'll get to hang out more. I get to see Mercedes shake her jelly and Quinn's always been able to drop it like it's hot."

Mercedes snorted and Quinn elbowed her with a playful glare. "When is your class?" Mercedes asked and Santana answered.

"It's Tuesday and Thursday evenings. I'm joining next week."

Quinn accepted—she didn't have anything else anyway and she did miss dancing. Tina took a little more convincing, but she agreed in the end. Mercedes had always wanted to take a hip-hop class, but she'd never had the courage to do so.

In the end, she decided to join too. Brittany was ecstatic and the conversation continued right along from there.

"You said you didn't want to be the leech in the relationship, Tin-Tin," Santana said—Tina looked like she couldn't decide if the nickname was offensive or not, "but you never said if Twinkle Toes was treating you right."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean is this another Finchel relationship or an actually decent relationship where two people care about each other?"

"That was low, San."

"The truth hurts."

"Uh," Tina said, "We're _great._ He's a wonderful guy. Mike treats me like I'm a princess—"

Hearing _princess _threw Mercedes' mind back to her date with Sam last night and their little moment on the slide. She could feel her face getting warm just thinking about everything she felt—she was so involved in her thoughts that she zoned out until Quinn poked her in the side.

She snapped out of her memories to see the knowing look on Quinn's face. Blushing, Mercedes turned her attention back to Tina, but the look didn't slip past Santana.

"_Pause_," Santana declared over Tina's gushing, "Are you dating someone, Wheezy?"

"What?" Tina exclaimed.

"You are?" Brittany asked.

Quinn bit her lip and looked away from Mercedes' glare. Her face was on fire.

"You know who it is, Que, spill!" Santana said, but Quinn laughed. She shook her head. Mercedes wanted to smack her. She was far too entertained by this change of events.

"Oh, _come on_!"

"You can't keep something like this from your girls!"

"Quinn, tell us!"

"I'm not telling, you guys," Mercedes replied to their incessant pestering. She was exasperated after five minutes of begging and pleading. "I will say that he treats me right and he's sexy as hell."

"Damn straight, he treats you right," Santana said, "You're Wheezy _and no one disrespects Wheezy."_

"Except you, apparently," Tina said.

"You've got balls, Tin-Tin, but I don't count. Friends can say what they want. Wheezy knows I respect the swag she has."

"Can we please drop this subject now?" Mercedes asked and the girls refocused their attention on her.

"As long as you tell us who it is soon."

"Fine," Mercedes answered and Tina nodded.

The subject changed when Brittany suggested that they have another sleepover, but girls only this time. They debated about dates and times until the end of lunch.

All of the girls paid for their meals and walked out together in a big group—joking and laughing as they made their way out of the door. Hugs were given out and they all promised to see her later that night.

Santana was the last one to pull Mercedes into an embrace and she said, "You knows I got mad investigation skills, so I'm going to find out who's the _lightning_ to my girl's chocolate thunder."

Mercedes moved away from Santana, an amused grin on her face and she winked at the girl.

"You can _try_."

* * *

><p><strong>Phew! This chapter took forever to write, but I hope it was worth it! REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until next time. :D<strong>


	34. Soft, Sweet, and Fire

**DISCLAIMER: On first chapter.**

**Sorry for such a long wait, but real life is currently kicking my butt! LOL. I hope you enjoy this chapter. :)**

* * *

><p><strong>May 27, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Lynn's House—Living Room**

**Lima, Ohio**

**2:44PM**

She could hear Jeff and Stacey giggling in the kitchen as she walked inside the house, clutching the mail in her hands. It was Jeff's turn to make lunch and after the drama that went on this morning, Stacey was coaxed into helping him.

She dropped all the letters in the mail sorter—each of them had a personal slot—and toed off her shoes. She put them into the closet by the door and dropped her keys onto the hook, before she went on the hunt for a little blond seven-year old boy—a box in her hand.

Lynn found Stevie curled up on the couch in the living room. Marley's head was in his lap as she stretched out across the cushions. The fingers of Stevie's free hand carded through the golden locks atop Marley's head. In his other hand, he held one of Sam's comic books and he was reading aloud to the dog.

For a moment, Lynn was hesitant to interrupt the scene. It was peaceful and Stevie seemed perfectly content where he was, but she had something for him. After a moment, she gathered her courage and rounded the side of the sofa.

He looked up at her when she came into his line of vision and he gave her that same crooked smile that drove her crazy when it was on his father's face. She couldn't help but return the grin.

"Hi darlin'," she said, holding the box in her hand as Stevie blinked at her.

"Hi Lynn," he replied—his voice so childlike, but so serious that it made her want to kiss his cheeks. "Did you need me to do something?"

"Oh no, sweetheart," Lynn said quickly—letting out a nervous chuckle. Why was she nervous? It wasn't like she'd never given something to a child before. But it had also been a long time since a child _accepted_ her gifts.

The thought brought a rush of tears to her eyes, but she blinked furiously. Stevie frowned.

"Are you okay?" he asked and Lynn laughed slightly.

"Of course," she replied, "May I sit?"

"Yeah," Stevie said and Lynn plopped down beside him on the couch. Gathering her courage, Lynn turned her head to glance at him. He was staring at her, his blue eyes curious.

"I have something for you," she said, lifting the box so that Stevie could see it. He looked surprised as his gaze flitted between the box in her hands and Lynn's face.

"But—I didn't do anything," he responded and Lynn's heart threatened to break. Stevie looked torn between guilt and excitement. No child should ever have to wonder like that.

"It's a gift, Stevie," she replied, her hand reaching out to brush his hair out of his face. She saw his hand clench the comic in his grasp as he tensed for a moment, but then he relaxed into the touch. Her heart swelled with affection as his cheek gently pressed against the palm of her hand. She could see it all over his face that he missed his mom.

Lynn had never thought about it before, but they had been cut off from maternal affection. All children craved their parents' love and from what Jeff had told her, they'd had that—until the family moved to Lima.

It must have been disconcerting to experience such a rapid change, and for once, Lynn was noticing.

"You don't need to pay for gifts," she told him as she leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead. "I'm giving this to you because I want to and I won't take no for an answer." Stevie still looked conflicted, but in the end his excitement about presents must have won out.

He gently closed his comic book and moved his hand from Marley's head. The dog lifted her head at the movement. Lynn handed him the box and held the comic book for him as he looked the present over.

It didn't look like anything special. It was still in the cardboard box that it was shipped in and it took Stevie a minute to get through the tape on it. When he upended the box, a thick book slid out—covered in a splash of stars and planets that faded into the various types of ecosystems on the planet as he turned from the back cover to the front.

When Stevie read the title, Lynn got the privilege of seeing absolute wonder cross his face.

"The Book for Every Beginner Scientist: Experimentation," he read aloud—the awe tingeing his voice made Lynn smile. "Is this what I think it is?" He asked, his blue eyes finding her face. His eyes were practically dancing with joy.

"If you think it's the book with over 500 experiments, 40 different types of science, and comes with 5 posters, then yes, you're correct," she replied. It took a minute for it to actually register, but the beaming smile that spread across his face made the sixty dollars she'd spent on it completely worth it.

His entire body was lit up with exuberance. "Lynn, this is awesome," he said—eagerly flipping through the pages. "I can't believe it!" Stevie stopped for a second and put the book down on his left side, before he stood up and moved to Lynn.

She was surprised when he threw his arms around her in a hug, but she gladly returned the embrace. When he pulled away, she was curious when she saw him bite his lip.

"Would you like to do one with me?" he blurted and Lynn grinned.

"I'd love to," she answered and Stevie smiled, before grabbing the book and sitting down next to Lynn, practically in her lap.

"We can choose one together," he said as he spread the book across his thighs. Lynn leaned back against the cushions, tossing an arm around the kid's shoulders as he leaned into the side of her body. Marley made a small whimpering sound and both of them laughed.

"Marls," Stevie called, using one hand to pat the cushion next to him. "Come here, girl."

The dog trotted across the cushions to where the two of them were sitting and plopped down right next to Stevie. The top of her head pressed against the side of his thigh as she curled up and relaxed. Stevie patted her head, before the two of them got to the serious task of finding an experiment to do.

Lynn listened as Stevie chattered and flipped through the pages. She was only distracted when she saw Jeff leaning against the doorway to the office. His green eyes were studying her intensely, but it was the hint of a smile that had her heart pounding. He looked so happy watching the two of them that Lynn longed to call him over and just kiss him.

His eyes spoke volumes and the satisfied smile on his face told her everything she wanted to hear him say out loud. But then he was turning away and walking into the kitchen, and Lynn refocused her attention on the little boy in her embrace.

She had a science experiment to do.

* * *

><p><strong>May 27, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate—Kitchen**

**Lima, Ohio**

**6:11PM**

Sam felt refreshed after driving home to shower. He traded his Pizza Parlor uniform for a pair of jeans, his Captain America t-shirt, red chucks and his letterman jacket. He hadn't encountered his little sister on his return trip to the house, but he figured it was for the best—he would come home early to hang out with them.

His fingertips tapped out the beat of the John Mayer song he was listening to as he turned into the driveway of the Jones Estate. He spotted Quinn's car in the driveway as he pulled up and parked on the side opposite hers. If he was leaving early, he needed to make sure he could get out of his parking space.

Sam unbuckled his seatbelt and turned the ignition of Lynn's car off. He ran his fingers through his hair and made sure he looked presentable before he got out of the vehicle. Sam made his way up the stairs to the Jones' estate front door and pressed the doorbell.

It only took a few seconds for the door to swing open and Sam found himself face to face with Mercedes' mom and a sleepy-eyed Annabelle on her hip. The girl's face lit up when she saw him though and Delia opened her mouth to say something, but Annabelle beat her to the punch.

"Sam-I-Am!" she yelled. Annabelle practically lunged out of her mother's arms—hands reaching towards Sam, who grabbed her before she could fall. Delia definitely looked startled at the abrupt motion, but she shot him a grateful smile when he swept the girl up in his arms.

"Princess Belle," Sam greeted as he held her against his chest with one arm. Her curls tickled his cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. "Excited to see me, huh?"

"Duh," the small girl sassed back. "You said you were gonna play dolls with me when you came to visit. Does that mean we can play now?"

Delia looked amused as she glanced between them—her shoulder against the frame of the doorway. Sam blushed at the twinkle in her eyes, before he answered Annabelle. "Well, I'm not sure I'll be able to do it today, Princess—but I'll be over here next week and we can play then. Is that okay, doll?"

Annabelle's expression was a bit disappointed, but she nodded. "Promise?"

Sam immediately offered her the pinky of his free hand and Annabelle giggled when she wrapped her small pinky finger around his. Sam shook their hands vigorously, making her laugh.

"I pinky promise to not break my word, yo," Sam said in a mock-whisper and the bright smile that crossed the girl's face made Sam's day. He wondered if she would remember the pinky promise rap that he'd taught her last weekend before he went to Mercedes' sleepover.

The sparkling amusement in the girl's grey eyes made him certain that she did remember and sure enough, Annabelle shook their hands as hard as she could—giggling every few seconds.

"Shake it like a dog and it means forever, bro," Annabelle finished for him—making Sam beam at her.

Delia laughed from the doorway and the two of them looked over at her. "Teaching my kid rhymes, already?" she asked in amusement. Sam blushed as Annabelle nodded, her arms going back around Sam's neck.

He shrugged sheepishly and Delia gave him a smile. "Come here and give me a hug," Delia said, stepping away from the door frame and opening her arms to him. Sam hugged her back with one arm.

"I'm assuming you're here to see Mercy," she said, letting go and motioning him inside. "She and Quinn are in the kitchen baking cookies before the rest of them arrive." Sam walked past her, Annabelle still in his embrace and Delia closed the door behind him.

Sam stopped and turned to look at her. Delia was eyeing him closely.

"I'm not sure if I should say anything about the black eye you're sporting or not," she said and Sam blushed. He shifted Annabelle in his embrace when he felt her little hand drop onto his cheek. He winced a bit when she touched a tender spot.

"I've been read the riot act many times—Burt Hummel, Lynn, my dad, Mercedes," he replied, "One more won't kill me."

Delia laughed. "I'm pretty sure Lynn told me that your father didn't scold you thoroughly when she called last night," she responded—her eyes twinkling.

"My dad's not an advocate of violence, and he's taught me enough for me to know that I shouldn't leap into a fight over just anything. Mercedes isn't just _anything_ to me, though and I think he understands that—probably more than anyone."

Sam knew his dad, and he knew how deeply he loved. Knowing what he did know about his mother's affair with his dad's best friend—he could understand the parallels that could be drawn between the two scenarios. It was nowhere near the same or the magnitude of his mother's offense, but best friends were a sore subject with his dad. Sam could understand the resentment.

He'd been surprised as well when his dad hadn't shouted out his eardrums and grounded him for the rest of his life. His dad had blown his top after Sam got into that fight with Karofsky. There was something going on, Sam knew that much. He wasn't sure of exactly what, but he was positive that his dad had a raging hangover yesterday.

He wasn't stupid, but he also wasn't going to worry about it right at this minute.

"Mercedes filled me in on what happened," Delia said. "And I'm not going to try and parent you, but if you ever need someone to talk to about that quick fuse—you know where to find me."

Sam hadn't expected an invitation to emotional conversation, but he'd take it in place of the tongue-lashing he'd been preparing himself for. From Mercedes' stories about her parents, Delia didn't play games when it came to discipline.

Sam nodded at her and she smiled. Delia clapped her hands together once, and beckoned Annabelle to her with a single gesture. "Alright baby-cakes, it's time to let Sam go see sissy."

Sam glanced at Annabelle's face from the corner of his eye when he felt her grip tighten. Her lips puckered together and her nose scrunched lightly.

"Now that's a whine face if I've ever saw one," he told her—startling the girl into looking at him.

"A _what-_face?"

"A whine face is what little girls get before they throw a tantrum," Sam said, "And sorry to tell you, but Princesses don't do that."

Annabelle's eyes narrowed at him. "What do they do then?"

"They do what their parents' tell them to do," Sam replied. "Being respectful is what makes a good princess."

The girl didn't look completely convinced, but she sighed and let Sam lower her to the ground. Delia looked even more entertained than she did before, and Sam blushed as he mouthed, "Little sister" to her as Annabelle walked over to her mother.

The older woman winked as she grabbed her daughter's hand. "Say bye to Sam and we'll go work on your princess costume."

Annabelle waved at him as she walked away. "Bye Sam-I-Am!"

"See you later, Princess Belle," he replied, "Bye Delia!"

"Have fun, Sam!"

The two of them disappeared up the stairs and Sam made his way to the kitchen. He didn't even get past the doorway before he heard his girlfriend and Quinn burst out laughing. A small smile made its way onto his face when he spotted a yellow-dress clad Quinn standing next to Mercedes behind the marble top island.

Their forearms were coated in flour and both of them were giggling. Mercedes looked incredibly cute in a bright purple dress that had huge butterflies printed sporadically across the fabric. Her hair was in loose curls with a sparkly black bow on the left side of her head. Her bangs fell to the sides of her face, and Sam grinned when he realized that she was wearing her glasses again.

From what he could tell—she wasn't wearing a drop of makeup and Sam thought she looked stunning. He leaned against the frame of the doorway and just watched as the two chattered loudly, mixing cookie dough and laughing every few seconds.

Eventually though, Quinn spotted him as she turned to spray down a cookie sheet. "Sam!" she said—a smile brightening her expression. Mercedes glanced up from where she was rolling dough and her whole face lit up.

Sam's stomach exploded in butterflies and he sent her a smile in return as he pushed off the wall and made his way over. Quinn put down her Pam spray to give him a hug that he returned. He let her go, shooting her a smile, before walking over to his girlfriend.

Mercedes wiped her hands on a dish towel, before Sam wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the floor.

"_Sam!"_ she said—her voice shocked and amused as he twirled her around before placing her back onto her feet. Mercedes laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Sam couldn't resist kissing her when she turned sparkling brown eyes up to him.

They pulled apart and Mercedes smiled up at him. "How long have you been here?" she asked.

"I got here about ten minutes ago," he replied, "but Annabelle kept me busy."

Rolling her eyes in fond amusement, Mercedes pecked him on the lips again before she turned in his embrace—going back to rolling dough. Sam shifted closer to her; keeping his arms around her waist as he rested his chin atop her head.

Her scent still drove him crazy.

"You've charmed every single one of my family members," Mercedes said—her voice a teasing whine. "Even Jazzy has started asking where you are."

Sam chuckled. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope," Quinn tossed in. Sam glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as she started spraying down trays. "He asked about you three times today."

"Well, I am cute and adorabl—_oof_," Sam grunted when Mercedes elbowed him in the side. "Why do you always abuse me, woman?"

"Because you should be helping us bake cookies, Mr. Handsy," she said, "Instead of talking about how cute and adorable you are."

"You could've just asked," he told her, pouting.

"Where's the fun in that?" she joked and Sam poked her in the side. She squeaked and he laughed before moving to the other side of Mercedes and grabbing a bowl of unmixed dough. He pulled off his letterman jacket, tossing it onto the chair at the kitchen table before turning his attention to the bowl.

"Wait!" Mercedes cried as Sam lifted the spoon to start stirring the batter.

"What?" he asked.

"Can you feed me some chocolate chips before you get all dirty?" she asked, an innocent expression on her face. Sam chuckled as he grabbed the bag of chocolate chips and pulled a few out of the bag. He gently popped them in her mouth and she chewed with a blissful expression.

"Thanks," she muttered around a mouthful of chocolate. Sam shook his head at her, before he began stirring. Mercedes went back to spreading flour on the cookie sheets.

"So, Sam," Quinn asked nonchalantly, "What happened to your face?"

His eyes snapped to hers and narrowed when he saw the look of amusement and concern on her face. He glanced at Mercedes and she was shooting Quinn the stink-eye. He raised an eyebrow at the blonde girl.

"Judging by Mercedes' expression," he replied, "I'm sure that you know already."

Quinn grinned at him. "Yeah, I do," she answered. "I like that you defended my sister. Keep it up and I may start accepting that you're dating my best friend."

"Am I supposed to be waiting for your approval?" he asked—he still didn't know exactly where he stood with Quinn. There was always a chance for things to get weird between the three of them, but something told him that Quinn was over their relationship. That didn't stop it from being nerve-wracking though.

They were still rebuilding the friendship that had been blown to smithereens. Trust was still an iffy thing between them. He didn't trust her as far as he could throw her, but he was going to give her a chance. They both deserved the opportunity to heal from past wounds.

For a split second, there was defensiveness in those green eyes of hers, but Sam watched her control her anger. She looked him straight in the eye and said, "If I didn't approve of you, you would've heard about it already."

The two eyed each other and Sam finally realized that Quinn wanted her sister back. She wasn't trying to sabotage them or make his life hell—she wanted to be healed from a broken heart and she was fighting for it. That was something he could understand.

Sam gave her a small grin. "Just don't go about throwing punches," he said, "I've had enough trouble trying to explain the one I've got."

Mercedes burst out laughing at the idea of Quinn giving Sam a black eye and the two of them joined in. The next half-hour passed slightly awkwardly, but it was a good time; a great starting point for friendship between them all.

About twenty minutes later, the cookies were baking in the oven and Quinn had gone upstairs to wash off the flour that covered her arms. Mercedes had cleaned herself up before putting the cookies in the oven, so Sam leaned against the marble counter as she puttered around the kitchen—putting away the sugar containers and wiping down the one surface that Sam hadn't already cleaned.

Smiling, she dropped the towel in the sink and turned her attention to him. They stared at each other for a moment, before Sam whispered, "Come here."

Mercedes moved over to him slowly and Sam reached out to tug her into his arms. She came willingly; her hands sliding up his biceps with ease. Sam squeezed her hips and pulled her close; until there was barely any space between them.

He leaned over and pressed his lips against hers. He heard her gasp softly as she kissed him back, but then she pulled away. Her eyes were narrowed suspiciously.

"You taste like chocolate," she said and Sam gave her an innocent look that didn't fool her for a second.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied and Mercedes quirked an eyebrow.

"Where'd you hide the bag of chocolate chips?" she asked, "You told me you put them away!"

"I did," Sam answered with a straight face. "I put them in my pocket."

"Sam!" Mercedes tried for stern, but a smile twitched at her mouth and her brown eyes were amused. "Did you eat them all?"

"No," he responded as he pulled the mostly empty bag of chocolate chips from his jeans pocket. "But I plan to."

Mercedes laughed and Sam couldn't resist kissing her on the cheek and then again on her mouth. She gave a soft moan that had Sam wrapping his arm around her lower back to pull her closer.

She pulled away again. "You're going to share, right?" she asked, her eyes meeting his directly. "I can taste the chocolate and I can't help but want some."

"Fine," Sam replied with a long-suffering sigh that earned him a sharp nip on his lip. "_Ow!_ Fiesty woman," he told Mercedes as her hands squeezed his arms. He rested his weight against the counter and spread his legs wider. Mercedes' hips settled against him and he pulled the bag in-between them—reluctantly letting her waist go as he opened the wrinkled plastic.

Sam snagged a few chocolate chips from the bag and Mercedes opened her mouth for him. Sam fed her the chocolate chips, alternating between her mouth and his. They chatted softly about their day—sharing giggles over how ridiculous feeding each other was, but they didn't stop.

A few minutes later, there were eight left in the bag and his fingers were coated in melted chocolate. Sam tossed the bag on the counter, before eating four of the ones in his hand.

"These are the last of 'em," he told her sadly as he swallowed his share. Mercedes watched as he lifted his hand. He popped one in her mouth and the other three quickly followed but his finger touched her lip by accident.

Now let's be real here, it had crossed Sam's mind about how Mercedes' mouth would feel on his body. He was eighteen and he had a sexy girlfriend, but he didn't dare bring that up in conversation this early in the game. She was so innocent and amazing and the last thing Sam wanted to do was make her feel pressured into something she wasn't ready for.

So, needless to say, when Mercedes' tongue licked the tip of his index finger by accident—Sam froze.

Mercedes looked startled by the action as well, and their eyes met. For a moment, shock and nervousness bloomed across her brown eyes and Sam almost moved away, but there was another tentative lick to his finger and he saw something in those orbs shift.

Sam suddenly felt extremely warm. He could feel his face flush as Mercedes licked his chocolate coated finger again and Sam would never admit to letting out a strangled gasp when she sucked his digit into her mouth and then swirled her tongue around it.

This was not the time or place to get an erection. Quinn could come back any minute. Her parents or brothers could walk in and then he would be _dead_—

Mercedes moved her hand to grab his wrist. She lifted it towards her face and then she licked his middle finger from base to tip.

Sam groaned and bit his lip hard when she sucked both of his fingers into her mouth and went to town. She made sure that every drop of chocolate was off his fingers, and Sam knew that she felt his hard on pressing against her hip. _How could she not?_

And the best part was that Sam could tell she _liked_ it. The desire in Mercedes' eyes let him know that she was enjoying making him react this way and Sam didn't mind at all.

When she finally let his wet fingers slip from her lips, a flare of shyness crossed her face, but Sam wasn't going to let her think that her actions weren't welcome. He grabbed her hips, pulled her flush against him and then attached his mouth to hers in a hard kiss.

Her hands moved from his shoulders to his hair in seconds and their tongues tangled together. She tasted like mint and the sweet chocolate that they'd just eaten and underneath it all was a soft spice that was all Mercedes.

Their lips came together and pulled apart and Mercedes was confident enough to take his bottom lip in her teeth and bite down softly. He growled into her mouth, releasing her hips and pushed off the counter with his hands. Sam spun them around until Mercedes was the one leaning against the counter and Sam kissed her ferociously—aroused beyond all belief.

She tugged at his hair and Sam ran his hands up her sides, skimming along the tender area where her breasts were and she gasped into the kiss. That was when Sam decided that they really needed to stop.

"Mercy," Sam rasped, tearing his mouth from hers. He glimpsed the devilish smile on her face before she leaned forward and nipped at the skin under his jaw. Without his consent he titled his head to the side, giving her as much room as she wanted to continue nibbling and sucking at the sensitive skin of his neck.

"_Mercy_," he said again and she pulled back to glance at him. Her eyes were hooded with desire and her long lashes practically did him in. She pulled his head forward and Sam felt her teeth tug at his ear lobe.

"Are you asking for it or asking for me?" she purred into his ear and Sam almost embarrassed himself by exploding in his pants. He didn't know where the hell this newfound confidence came from, but _damn_. He liked it, but two could play that game.

"Both," he replied as he slid his hand onto her left breast and squeezed. Mercedes gasped into his ear and he took the opportunity to press kisses to her exposed neck. His right hand slid up her thigh and then his mouth was caught up in another demanding kiss.

She gave as good as she had and it was almost too much for Sam to handle. How was he supposed to pretend like they weren't together when she did this to him twenty minutes before their friends came over? Did she really expect him to not want to kiss her or hold her hand or sit her in his lap or touch her when everyone was here?

It was time for that bullshit to end. He wasn't about to go another minute without being able to kiss her whenever he wanted to.

Sam broke the kiss and moved his hands back to her waist. She whined at the loss of contact and it almost obliterated his resolve, but she needed to hear what he was about to say.

"I don't want to hide this anymore," he told her. Mercedes' brown eyes flickered with desire, but he also saw the switch from confusion to understanding.

"You want to tell the glee club about us?" she asked.

Sam nodded, mentally shoring himself up for a fight. He wasn't expecting Mercedes to shrug and say, "Okay, we'll tell them tonight."

Sam's jaw dropped and Mercedes giggled at his expression.

"Two weeks ago, you would've shot me down like a bird in the middle of hunting season," he said in disbelief. "What happened?"

"It's time for us to come clean to them," she replied, "I was going to talk to you about it tonight anyway. I want to be able to kiss you whenever I want, and I figured since Quinn spilled the beans about me dating someone—it would come out sooner rather than later and I want it to be on our terms."

Sam blinked at her, but gradually a beaming smile crossed his face. He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her mouth.

"I think I really like you, Miss Jones," Sam said and Mercedes laughed.

"I hope so," she replied, "I think I really like you as well."

"How do you want to tell them?" he asked and an impish smile stretched across her lips. Sam was immediately reminded of his prankster feelings about this girl.

"Well," Mercedes said slowly, "I was thinking a little surprise wouldn't hurt them."

Sam laughed, but they started discussing plans—making sure to move into a more innocent position—her arms around his neck and his hands on her waist. It didn't change the fact that their lips were kiss swollen, but Mercedes fixed Sam's hair. Their foreheads pressed together as they talked softly.

Their embrace was only broken when the oven dinged and the doorbell rang at the same time.

* * *

><p><strong>May 27, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**Lynn's House—Living Room**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:55PM**

The kids' bath time was perfect for what Jeff had in mind.

Hearing the water start running upstairs, Jeff decided that it was the perfect time to talk to Lynn about an important issue. He found her in the backyard, cleaning up the leftover mess from their experiment with mixing cornstarch and water.

She was scrubbing the patio table down with dawn and a sponge when he stepped out of the doors. Under the lighting of the patio, Lynn's skin glowed a gorgeous brown and Jeff had to stop himself from grabbing her, pushing her against the wall and kissing the breath out of her.

Half of her hair was pinned back with a black clasp hidden amidst her ringlets, but a couple of curls were too short to be contained and they fell around her face. Framing those features that he found so beautiful—he wasn't surprised to see a clump of corn starch in her dark hair, but he was amused to see it streaked across her forehead.

She didn't seem to notice—especially when he cleared his throat and she glanced up at him with those distracted hazel eyes of hers. Lynn blinked at him, before she smiled and paused in her scrubbing for a second.

"Jeffrey," she said, "is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he replied as he made his way over to her. "The kids are upstairs taking baths. They seemed to know that if they got cornstarch on the furniture it would be their bottoms."

Lynn grinned at him. "What'd they do?"

"They tiptoed and pulled matrix moves every three seconds to avoid contact with anything," Jeff said in amusement. "They just seemed to forget they couldn't fly and left footprints all the way up the stairs."

Lynn burst out laughing and Jeff joined her. It was pretty funny to see them try so hard to keep everything clean, and then they forgot about their shoes. "At least they tried, right?" Lynn responded, "It's the thought that counts."

"Speaking of thoughts," Jeff said slowly, "the twin's birthday is coming up soon."

Lynn had gone back to scrubbing, but then she snapped to attention. "How soon are we talking?" she asked—her eyes huge.

"Umm, next Friday—"

"Jeffrey Evans!" Lynn hissed, smacking him on the arm with a damp hand. He laughed and tried his best to ignore the tingles that zoomed up his spine at the feel of her soft skin on his arm. "_Next week?_ How on earth did you not think to tell me something so important?"

She was outraged, but Jeff couldn't help but think that she was adorable. Her hands were on her hips and she was glaring up at him. Sometimes, he was sure that Lynn forgot how tiny she was.

"I knew it," he replied, "but I didn't really think about the fact that you'd probably be wondering until now. You're so close with them already—I just assumed you knew."

"Well, what's that saying about assumptions?" Lynn replied, her eyes softer. "Did you have anything in mind for them?"

"I was hoping to have a little birthday party for them," he answered and Lynn's face lit up.

He was in trouble. Jeff was going to have a hard time telling her no to anything. His heart was already melting at the sight of her excitement. Lynn practically did a little dance as she started talking.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" she said, "We can invite a few of their friends over and we can have cake—and oh no, I need to get birthday presents for the two of them; and maybe I should cook them a special breakfast—"

"Lynn," Jeff said and she stopped rambling to look up at him. "I don't want anything huge, okay? You've got enough on your plate with Clarity's opening coming up in two weeks."

"It'll be fine. There's not that much to do—" She paused in contemplation when Jeff gave her a look.

She smiled back sheepishly after re-evaluating her statement and he couldn't help but chuckle as he lifted his hand to wipe the dried cornstarch off her forehead. Lynn smiled in thanks and Jeff found himself leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her right temple.

"Let's keep it simple. No more than $200 on this party, alright?" he asked, his lips still pressed against her skin. He could feel her shudder in his embrace, before she leaned back to glance up at him.

Jeff's ability to breathe was gone. Her eyes looked so loving and so welcoming—full of devotion and caring for him, his family—_their _family. He couldn't have stopped himself if he'd tried.

His lips pressed against Lynn's in the gentlest of kisses—her mouth was soft and sweet and_ fire_ threatened to consume every atom of Jeffrey's body. He felt burned in the best way possible—their kiss chaste and innocent, but oh-so special.

He couldn't have imagined anything better.

"That wasn't supposed to happen," Lynn whispered—her eyes dazed from that brief contact.

"No," Jeff whispered, "it wasn't."

"Do you regret it?" she asked—their lips only centimeters apart. Jeff could make out each one of her eyelashes, but he was overwhelmed by the sheer joy in her expression. He could see the fear that this had ruined them, that she wasn't what he wanted after all reflected in those orbs.

But that was the farthest thing from the truth.

"No," he responded and Lynn's beaming smile was swept away by the second kiss he laid on her lips. It was just as sweet as the first, but much more passionate. He could've stood there and kissed Lynn forever.

She was wearing a white t-shirt, pearl studs, and ripped jeans. Her forearms were covered in drying soap suds and there were patches of cornstarch all over her clothing—clumps in her hair and on her neck.

Jeff was in a dark green t-shirt that had cornstarch stuck to it and cargo shorts. It wasn't planned. It wasn't fancy, but it was perfect—it was that moment for them. He would never regret kissing her right then.

Jeff wouldn't let his soon to be ex-wife destroy his life anymore. He'd been on self destruct since their marriage started collapsing and he'd foolishly allowed her to dictate everything, but not anymore. Lynn—she was what he'd always been looking for and he wouldn't let her get away.

Elizabeth be damned.

* * *

><p><strong>May 27, 2011 (Saturday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate—Basement**

**Lima, Ohio**

**8:37PM**

A burst of cheers broke out from the middle of the basement as an irate Santana protested against _Finn_, of all people, winning her hand in poker.

"I'm about to go _loco_ up in this joint," she snapped as Finn pulled her stack of chips into his own pile. Artie was still laughing, his head thrown back in amusement. Mercedes thought Sam was about to die, because he couldn't stop guffawing long enough to breathe.

All eleven of them were sitting around the large wooden table downstairs, playing cards in hand—drinks were sitting on coasters around the table, open chip bags and cookie wrappers were scattered everywhere. The only one missing from the group was Kurt, and as bad as it made her feel, Mercedes was relieved that he'd chosen not to come. She'd have to face him sooner or later, but her feelings were still raw and she needed some time to recover.

And this time, if he wanted to fix it—he was coming to her.

Her thoughts were pulled back to the game as Santana started mumbling under her breath in Spanish. She could tell that the majority were curse words, by her own translation and by Mike's wincing. He was the only one in the group who could speak fluent Spanish and he wasn't even taking the class.

"You're the one who assumed that I had nothing," Finn spoke up for himself and Mercedes shot him a grin. Weeks ago, Finn would've sat in silence. She was happy that he'd grown some balls lately. She wondered about the change in him, until she noticed Sam giving Finn a discrete fist-bump. _Boys._

"That's because you were doing the shart face," Santana exclaimed. "You always do that face when you have no clue what's going on."

"Really, Santana," Tina piped up in disgust, "did you have to go there?"

Mercedes had cringed at the term as well.

"I'm just keepin' it real, Tin-Tin."

"Well, I'm just keepin' it _rich_ over here," Finn said as he waved his cards in Santana's face.

Artie snatched his cards away and everyone passed their hand in so he could shuffle again. As he shuffled, Santana moved away from the table to the radio to turn on some music. Of course, she picked Nelly Furtado's No Hay Igual and started swinging her hips from side to side.

"Tin-Tin," she yelled as she swiveled her hips in a circle and dropped down low. "Come dance with me."

Tina looked startled for a moment, but she uncurled her legs from beneath her and moved away from Mike's side to stand up. Smiling, she walked over to the Latina and was instantly swung into a spin that had her ruffled blue skirt flaring around her hips.

Tina laughed as her back was put against Santana's front and the girl moved their hips together in a fast but sensual dance.

"I want in on this!" Brittany cheered from her seat before she ran over to the two girls and stood in front of Tina, who grabbed the blonde girl's hips and started grinding.

Puck looked mesmerized. Quinn was dying of laughter and cheering. Artie was dancing as he shuffled the cards and saying, "Get it! Get it!"

Mike looked as though he couldn't decide between confusion and attraction. Rachel looked completely shocked by the spectacle and Finn was grinning.

Mercedes was smirking as she turned her head to look at Sam. She was surprised to see him staring straight at her instead of the hot girl grind going on not ten feet away from them. She raised an eyebrow at him and he grinned.

"The sex show is over _there_," she whispered, indicating the three girls getting their dance on with a slight nod in their direction. Mercedes thought it was hot for sure.

"Nothing I haven't seen before," Sam replied and Mercedes eyed him. "Besides, I think the_ real_ sexy is sitting right here."

"Excuse me?" Mercedes sputtered—her whole face blushing. She'd been complimented by Sam, but was this dude really telling her that she was more attractive than Santana, Tina _and_ Brittany? Her boyfriend was crazy. "I'm not exactly shaking my butt to the beat over here."

"You don't need to shake that ass for me to know it's _more _than delectable."

"Boy!" Mercedes exclaimed, "You are a mess."

She started laughing, unable to control the giggles from the leering look that Sam was giving her. He tossed his arm over the back of her chair and leaned close.

"You don't know how sexy you are, Cede," he told her and Mercedes blushed furiously.

She was used to Sam calling her beautiful and pretty and amazing, but sexy was still awkward to hear—especially from a man that looked like Sam Evans.

"I thought it was your job to teach me," she replied with a wink and Sam gave her a panty-dropping smile. His green eyes twinkled at her and she couldn't believe that he was coming onto her this hard in front of their friends.

This wasn't part of the plan, but fuck all if Mercedes was about to stop him.

Sam didn't say another word. He just twisted his fingers in her hair and pulled her into a burning kiss. He must've still been on edge from earlier—well he wasn't the only one. Mercedes had been aching for his hands and his lips for the past hour. His tongue was in her mouth doing unholy things and she couldn't help but respond to him, her fingers twisting in the cotton of his t-shirt.

Her head tilted and Sam completely took advantage of the new angle to kiss her harder. She wouldn't have even remembered that they weren't alone if it hadn't been for Rachel's surprised scream.

Her eyes snapped open mid-kiss, but Sam didn't stop.

He did something to her lip with his teeth and tongue that had Mercedes seeing stars and she got lost in his kiss again. She could feel him smirking against her mouth, and his confidence was a turn-on.

He finally let up a few seconds later, and he dropped a peck on her lips before pulling away with a wink.

Mercedes' vision cleared, but she remained slack against Sam—breathing hard.

"Where did you learn how to do_ that_?" she asked in disbelief and Sam blushed, but he smiled.

"Do what?" he asked innocently. Mercedes smacked him on the chest.

"That thing when you bit my lip and then you—I don't even know, but it was good; _really good_."

Sam's face was still pink, but he was grinning. "I thought you'd like that," he said, "you seem to be really into biting and licking." His eyebrow quirked and it was Mercedes' turn to blush furiously.

"You liked it," she responded and Sam kissed her forehead.

"Hell yeah, I did," he replied. "I thought I was going to die when you started sucking—"

"WHAT?" Quinn's voice exploded through the bubble that Sam and Mercedes were living in and they both whipped around to stare at the blonde girl. Her face was bright red—with anger or embarrassment, Mercedes couldn't tell.

"I was gone for like fifteen minutes!" Quinn said, "If you talked Mercedes into some sexual act while in her parents' kitchen, I will_ kill_—"

"What?" Mercedes asked, flabbergasted. She replayed their conversation in her head and then blushed. It could sound like something else without all the details. "Oh my god, no! We didn't do anything like that," she told her soul-sister before the girl could launch herself over the table and kill her boyfriend. "I'll tell you later."

Quinn looked significantly calmer, but still suspicious. That was when Mercedes noticed the strangled sounds coming from Mike and Artie. Both of them were red in the face and couldn't meet her eyes. Finn was gaping and looked as if he finally understood Sam's anger a few days ago. Rachel looked horrified. Brittany was clapping her hands together.

Tina was crying and Santana was fanning herself.

"Well, _shit_," Santana said, "Wheezy and Trouty? That was fucking hot. How could you have not told me that you were dating, Trouty Mouth?"

"We didn't know how you guys would react," Mercedes admitted, "and I kind of wanted him to myself for awhile."

"I can see why!" Tina burst out—her chest heaving. "You guys are so cute."

"For fuck's sake, why are you crying? That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen. Trouty can get it."

Sam blushed and Tina glared at Santana. "I'm emotional because I know Sam will treat her right."

"He'll be _treatin'_ it, alright," Santana muttered and Mercedes found herself blushing again.

"We are not having sex!" she protested.

"Then treat yo' self," Artie said finally.

"And use his mouth to do it," Santana added and Mercedes thought she would die of embarrassment when the two high-fived over the table.

"Preach," Artie said, waving his hand in the air. "But yo, can I watch? Cuz'—"

"Hell yeah," Santana added, "The Tilt-A-Swirl over there would be hot. You guys sellin' tickets for that ride?"

Sam's face was bright red and Mercedes momentarily forgot how to breathe; the embarrassment was so intense. She shot both Artie and Santana the stink eye as they grinned at her.

Their friends looked like they were recovering slowly, because Mike started laughing. "So this is why you were so high strung when we talked about girls."

Sam gave his friend a half-hearted grin and nodded.

"Boy looks like you've learned lots of lessons," Santana told Sam as she nodded in his direction. The girl winked at Mercedes and said, "You're welcome."

Before they knew it, questions about when they got together, how they got together, and really personal things were asked in rapid succession. The poker game was abandoned for a game of ping pong and this time, Sam held Mercedes' hand.

The night descended into typical Glee club chaos. Tina and Santana duked it out over ping pong. The boys cheering from the sidelines and bets placed with juice and slices of pizza were taken.

Amidst the excitement, Sam made sure to ask everyone if they wanted to perform at the opening of Clarity. It only took a quick explanation and about five minutes before everyone was on board with it. They were all excited to sing and dance for fun again. The concern about rehearsal space was brought up, but Brittany offered to ask her boss if they could use one of the lesser utilized dance rooms. As a last resort, Mercedes' house would be their rehearsal spot.

It was only when they moved on to pool that things got interesting.

* * *

><p>The girls broke into teams and it was Mercedes and Tina playing against Quinn and Santana. All of them were fierce competitors, but it also the moment that Sam's attraction to Mercedes got him into a difficult situation.<p>

"We're playing strip-pool," Santana stated as she chalked up the end of her stick. Her nonchalant announcement had silence descending immediately. Sam was glad he hadn't taken a bite of his Doritos because he surely would've been choking, just like Artie was with his soda.

His eyes flew straight to Mercedes and he couldn't help it if his eyes drifted all the way down her body and back up. His girlfriend was _**fine**_, but she and Quinn were definitely at a disadvantage with their simple dresses.

"Pause," she said as she eyed her friend. Sam had to hold in a laugh at the judgmental look on her face. "What do you mean by strip-poker?"

"Just what it sounds like Wheezy," Santana answered and Mercedes did that little quirk of the head that told Sam that shit was about to go down if someone didn't tell her what she wanted to hear. He would know—he'd seen it quite a lot over the last couple of days.

"I'm going to need you to clarify," she responded and even Santana knew when she shouldn't push Mercedes, because she answered with less snark than she usually had. "It means that if the opposite team sinks a ball into a pocket," she said, "You have to strip off one item of clothing."

Sam watched as Mercedes' eyes took in the outfits of the girls around the table. None of them were wearing shoes. Santana was wearing a royal blue tank top with some short jean shorts. Tina was in a ruffled mini skirt with a white-shirt. She and Quinn were wearing dresses.

"What happens if we run out of clothes to take off?" she asked finally, "I only have three things on."

Something about that statement made Sam blush furiously. He was way too tempted by the fact that Mercedes only had on_ three_ pieces of clothing right now. Her dress, her bra and her panties—yep, he was a dead man.

"Then your boyfriend will strip for you," Santana replied—the devious smirk on her face let Sam know that she'd been thinking this up all along. Mercedes blushed furiously at the thought of Sam taking his clothes off for her.

He was a bit worried. They hadn't exactly gotten to the clothing removal stage in their relationship, but he clearly remembered how sexy she looked in that bathing suit she'd had on all those weeks ago. He hadn't been a blind man. Her breasts and her ass looked amazing in that swimsuit. He had been incredibly glad for the cold water of the pool.

Even if he hadn't been romantically interested at that point, he was still a dude. And Mercedes was sexy.

Quinn looked annoyed though. "What if we don't have a boyfriend?" she asked, dryly and Santana's smug expression didn't change.

"Puck can strip for you," she said, "but you don't needs to worry about that. We aren't going to lose."

"If Zizes hears about me strippin' for Quinn, I won't exist anymore," Puck said, "So keep your mouths closed, because this is one game I have got to see. Hot mama with no clothes on? My body_ been_ ready."

Sam couldn't have stopped the movement of his hand if he'd wanted to. His palm connected with the back of Puckerman's head and the slap was heard by all the girls. They looked in their direction as Finn, Artie, and Mike started laughing.

Puck rubbed his head. "Ow! What the hell—"

"Really, dude?" Sam growled. "You're gonna stand here and talk about my girl like that?"

"Are you kiddin'?" Artie piped in. "Those lady lumps have been the objects of my fantasies since I saw that chocolate goddess walking down the hallway freshman year. Don't even play like you can stake yo' claim on that Christ-blessed-figure I've been lookin' at for years."

Mercedes' eyes were wide and her jaw fell open. Sam could tell she was flustered, but he wasn't about to let anybody look at his woman.

"Artie, I'm warning you—"

"I've been worshipping the right and left hand of God since she wore that sky blue v-neck t-shirt sophomore year," Artie continued, "because only the _direct_ touch of Jesus could've raised those breasts."

Tina was dying—she was trying so hard to hide her giggles in Mike's chest but it wasn't happening. Mike wasn't much better. Quinn was crying tears of laughter and she couldn't look Mercedes in the face.

"Messy as hell," Santana said, her eyes lit up with laughter. Sam tried to be angry, but Artie's statements were true. His girlfriend was stacked.

"You just remember who that figure belongs to," Sam told his friend, "and if I see you touch my woman, be prepared to meet the real Jesus." He stared Artie down, the glare on his face intense, but Artie just sniffed at him.

"We alternate turns," Santana said—ignoring the fact that Mercedes looked like she was about to pass out from shock. Sam stared into her wide brown eyes; understanding that her mind was completely blown. She was sure that no guy had ever found her attractive and then she hears all this from Puck and Artie. It was quite a bit to take in during one night. Mercedes still looked incredibly embarrassed but also completely flattered at the fact that they'd all been talking about her—not Quinn or Santana or Tina, but _her_. She gave him a shaky grin and all Sam could think about was how adorable she was.

"The chosen other strips something off first and then the player does. Things should get fun, quickly with all the added_ distractions_."

"Wait, who's stripping for you Santana?" Finn blurted, his eyebrows furrowed. "And how come Rachel isn't playin—"

"No one wants to see Barbra-Boo-Baa naked except you," Santana snapped at him, "and—"

"I'll strip for San," Brittany said—raising her hand as though she was answering a question. Sam tried to ignore the subtle softening of Santana's hard expression as she whispered a thank you. He put his eyes back on Mercedes, who looked nervous despite the brave face she was wearing.

Sam winked at her and she rolled her eyes, inhaling deeply before she started chalking up.

"Are we clear on the rules?" Santana asked, but before anyone could say anything she pulled the triangle off the balls. "Good, let's get this shit started."

The game began with a ball break from Santana and for the first round; nerves must have gotten to them all because no one sunk anything. It was when Santana made a hard shot that knocked the striped six-ball into the corner pocket that the game picked up.

Artie turned on music and the game quickly got rowdy. Mike pulled his shirt off without a thought in the world. Santana and Quinn shared a high-five before it was Tina's turn. Her eyes flitted to Mike, who was flexing, before her mouth twisted into a smirk. She sunk the solid four-ball in the middle pocket and blew her boyfriend a kiss.

Sam laughed at the look on Mike's face at Tina's impishness. Brittany's shirt came off not a second later as Quinn walked up to the table. Mercedes raised her eyebrow at the teasing look on Quinn's face and Sam knew he was in trouble.

Sure enough, Quinn sunk the striped three-ball and Mercedes' eyes snapped over to Sam's as he grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head. He was blinded for a few seconds, but he did hear the gasp from his girlfriend as he tossed his t-shirt onto the chair behind him.

Her eyes danced across his chest and she bit her lip; the lust sparkling in her brown eyes. He could tell she was blushing; he was too, but her desire was a definite confidence booster.

Sam shot her a crooked smile and her eyes widened more, before she hurried to the pool table. It was her turn to shoot. The rounds continued and the boys got louder and more into the game as the clothes started coming off.

It was Quinn who pocketed the ball that signaled Mercedes' first foray into stripping, and Sam couldn't have stopped himself from salivating if he tried. Her face was a mix of embarrassment and nervousness as she slowly lifted the hem of her dress. He could tell when she decided to just do it, because she pulled it over her head and Sam was sure that his heart stopped beating.

She dropped the dress onto the floor and her curls fell against the smooth skin of her shoulders and back. Fuck all, if she wasn't sexy.

Mercedes was wearing a black corset type bra thing and her underwear were solid black boy-shorts. Her ass and breasts were things of legends. Artie and Puck were biting their knuckles and Sam was having a hard time breathing.

He didn't know if he could handle seeing anymore of his girlfriend's skin. She was too gorgeous. The way he was looking at her must've given her a confidence boost because she practically strutted towards the corner closest to him—where the white ball was.

Sam watched her lean over the table in what must have been slow motion and all he could see was the gorgeous skin of her back—a sliver of dark chocolate just big enough for him to lick showing up between the bottom of her corset tank thing and the top of her underwear.

Her ass was literally three feet in front of him and he couldn't have imagined the groan that escaped him as she readied her shot. His face had to be bright red by now and Sam was biting the shit out of his lip. He didn't even pay attention to the fact that his girlfriend sunk three balls with one shot.

Santana was cussing up a storm. Artie and Puck and Tina were cheering. Finn was laughing and Rachel was amused, but she hid it under a scowl. Artie cranked up the music even higher as Mercedes shot again, but missed.

She stood up; a bright smile on her face as she turned to go back to her partner, but Sam grabbed her hand and pulled her into his chest. She gasped and Sam thought he'd come to heaven because he could see straight down her top and those breasts looked even more heavenly from this angle. The game went on behind them as Sam wrapped his arms around his girlfriend.

"I think you might need to forfeit this game, Miss Jones," he said into her ear. Mercedes shivered in his embrace.

"And why's that?" she breathed, her brown eyes looking up at him. He could feel her hands trailing electricity across his pectorals over his shoulders and then his neck as she moved upwards from his waist and to his hair.

"Because the curves you've got are makin' me wanna worship your body from head to toe and the last thing I want is to do somethin' foolish before you're ready."

Oh, great. His accent was coming out now. He'd never known it was possible to get this turned on when she was wearing about the same as a swimsuit, but he was ready to burst.

Mercedes gazed at him and Sam stared back, before she pulled him into a kiss. He immediately responded to her lips, but he kept it brief. Embarrassing her or himself by throwing her down onto the pool table and fastening his mouth to her nether lips was not something she'd approve of—at least not until after he was done.

Sam pulled away and whispered, "Go finish your game. I suggest you win."

A slow smile spread across her face that made Sam's heart swell. "I plan on it."

He watched her sashay away from him, and Mike clasped a compassionate hand on his back as Tina slid her skirt off her hips—leaving her in a lavender underwear set. They shared a look of suffering as Tina leaned over to take her shot. Mike whimpered.

Mercedes and Tina won the game.

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><p><strong>REVIEW! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until next time. :)<strong>


	35. Talk To Me

**DISCLAIMER: On first chapter.**

**This story-after this chapter is about to move FULL SPEED AHEAD. In the next chapter, you're going to be seeing a ton of friendships, relationships, important plot lines and be prepared for some surprises within the next few chapters. I apologize for such a long wait, but this chapter proved difficult for me to write. It'll be interesting to hear your thoughts! **

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><p><strong>May 28, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**Lynn's House—Dining Room**

**Lima, Ohio**

**7:12AM**

"What we did was _wrong_, Jeffrey."

Lynn's voice was as unsteady as the rapid beating of her heart. She clutched the handle of the mug in her fingers and couldn't stand the pained expression that crossed Jeff's face. She looked away from him, feeling a mixture of helplessness and guilt.

She _wanted_ to be with him. The proof was there—in her heart, her mind, _her soul_. It wasn't a question of her feelings, but it was a challenge of her integrity. Oh yes; she hated Elizabeth Evans with a fiery passion, but she had never thought that she'd have stooped to the same level as that she-demon.

In her mind, when she put her lips on Jeff's yesterday; she had lost her moral high ground. It hurt her to realize that she had compromised all that she'd worked for in the past seven years with one stupidly _amazing_ kiss.

Her eyes burned with tears.

"So you do regret it," he said and Lynn's gaze snapped to him—her head already shaking.

"No," she told him, "I don't regret _kissing_ you, Jeff. I regret the _circumstances in which_ we kissed. I promised myself that I would never do what Davis did to me to anyone else and I—" Her throat felt clogged and Lynn clutched the mug in her hand tighter. "—I did that when I kissed you. It made a cheater out of both of us."

Jeff said nothing for one of the longest moments of her life.

"We're not them, Lynn," he replied.

"You're_ married_!"

"I'm as good as divorced," he snapped back, "I wouldn't stay with her if she_ paid_ me. There is no love in this marriage. I haven't seen her face in almost three months. I haven't slept with her in over a year and I haven't kissed her filthy mouth in far longer. That's not marriage. That's not even friendship. She is _nothing_ to me!"

Lynn couldn't help but stare at him. He'd never raised his voice at her before.

"Jeffrey, I'm sorry, but even in a loveless marriage—I will not be the other woman."

"Lynn—"

"I said no,_ damnit_!" she hissed, slamming her mug down onto the table top. "I am worth more than that. I deserve more than the shame that comes with being a_ mistress_."

"I understand," Jeff replied—his tone was hushed and he looked more resigned than Lynn had ever seen him. He wouldn't look at her, but she could tell by his clenched jaw that he was hurt and angry._ Why could she never get anything right?_

Lynn bit down hard on her trembling lip and she blinked away the tears. She was sure that her morals should be important. She couldn't throw who she was out of the window again. _She just couldn't. _Not even for Jeffrey, who was everything she'd never even dreamed of wanting, but everything she could possibly need.

The silence between them was strained, and it broke her heart to realize that she had probably just killed their whole relationship before they could even really begin. It wasn't fair. She didn't want it to be over. Lynn wasn't sure that she was ready for it to start either, but this couldn't be it—not the end of them. Not like this. She felt too much—too much for him and too much for his kids.

"So, I guess this is over huh?" he asked—his voice was rough and Lynn started crying. The heartbreak threatened to suffocate her from within.

This wasn't—it wasn't supposed to happen this way. Jeff meant so much to her, and because she was so stupid; she couldn't be with him for longer than a day. No wonder no man had touched her in years and now she wouldn't get the chance. She wouldn't get the opportunity to really kiss him or hold him, or be held by him.

"Jeffrey, I—", Lynn tried to speak, but everything was happening too fast and it was all wrong. She couldn't just let him go like this. They were meant to be together. She knew it. She could feel it with every fiber of her being. But what if they weren't ready yet? What if she was still too damaged to be in a relationship? **NO.**

Lynn sucked in a sharp breath and made herself focus. Davis was seven years in the past. He wasn't Jeffrey; he'd never measure up to Jeffrey. She had to remind herself that her marriage to Davis had been a poorly thought decision—a life where she'd had no confidence in anything but him. Lynn wasn't that girl anymore. She'd never let herself be that girl again.

So, she needed to fight for what she wanted, and the man she loved. If she just let this one thing destroy the beautiful relationship that she shared with Jeffrey then she wasn't worth his time. And Lynn would never let herself be worthless ever again.

"I don't want it to be over," she admitted and he looked at her. His eyes were red and she could tell that he was on the verge of crying too. "Oh Jeff, I want to be with you_. I do_. It's just—I can't be that woman. I can't be with you while you're still with her."

"That kiss," she said, "it was _amazing._ I wanted so much more. I still do. I want you to kiss me until I can't breathe anymore, but I can't do that until your marriage isn't hanging over our heads. When I'm with you, I want to be with _only_ you."

"I'm not perfect, Lynn," Jeff admitted, "I have trust issues. My pride can blind me sometimes. I'm more vain than I like to let on." Lynn giggled at the blush that turned his cheeks a soft pink in the sunlight streaming in from the windows. Jeff gave her a hesitant smile back. "I have raging protective instincts and when someone I love is threatened; I can blow my fuse_ real_ quick. I'm not the most patient person when it comes to sports. I cuss at the television when my team is playing like jackasses with sports equipment."

Lynn smiled at him, amused by his words and the scowl that crossed his face. His southern accent showed itself when he talked about sports—Lynn found it exceedingly adorable.

"I hate neck ties," he told her, "I feel like I've been collared like a dog. Corn on the cob is a pain in the hindpot to eat, and I hate how the kernels get stuck in my teeth."

Lynn laughed at that and Jeff grinned back at her, sheepishly.

"Not that I'm not enjoying this Jeff, but why are you telling me all of this?"

"I want you to know _exactly_ what you're signing up for," he said, "Sometimes I feel like you think I'm perfect, when I'm far from it. And then sometimes, I feel like you can see every flaw that I have. It's quite disorienting to comprehend. But—I want to be with you and I want you to be with me; strange quirks and all."

"If that's what you're worried about," Lynn replied, "then you can relax. I argue with you about vegetables every day. You suck at making sandwiches and you thought that blue jeans went in with the light clothes. If I didn't accept you as you are, I wouldn't have fallen for you. Yeah, there are things that you do that irritate me; like how you slice oranges horizontally instead of vertically or how you leave the bar soap on the sink counter instead of putting it back in the dish, but I like _you_, Jeffrey. If I didn't—we wouldn't be here now."

Jeff looked moved by her words. His expression flitted through so many emotions that Lynn couldn't decipher them all.

"Can you wait for me?" he questioned and Lynn's breath caught in her throat. He looked so desperate for her to say yes and Lynn wasn't surprised to find that she wanted to say yes too.

"You already know I will," she answered and Jeff stretched his hand across the table to her. Lynn's heart stuttered in her chest when his fingers laced with hers and he pulled her hand to his mouth—pressing a kiss to the back of her hand.

Feeling the heat from his slightly chapped lips against her skin had her heart pounding. Her fingers tightened around his and they shared a glance—one filled with the promise of so many things that Lynn couldn't even begin to comprehend. She wanted to kiss him so badly. Her lips tingled; remembering the sweet sensation of his lips moving over hers, his tongue tracing across her soft flesh.

She couldn't help the blush that heated her cheeks or the warm shiver that traveled across her body as they stared into each other's eyes. Jeff's green gaze was a beacon of longing. The way he was looking at her—Lynn didn't know how she could have ever doubted that he wanted her exactly as she was; _damaged and insecure, but loving_.

That said more than she could have ever asked for. The love she felt for him was overwhelming.

"Give me three weeks, Lynn," he told her. "And this is going to be _over_."

Three weeks suddenly felt like a lifetime, but Lynn nodded. She could wait.

* * *

><p><strong>May 28, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**Lynn's House—Second Floor**

**Lima, Ohio**

**8:46AM**

Waking up at a quarter till nine on a Sunday morning wasn't an ideal occurrence. Waking up that early on a weekend during the summer after staying out until one in the morning at Mercedes' house made the situation that much worse.

Sam couldn't quite say that he had much of a choice. They had church at eleven this morning, and he needed to talk to Stacey. He had felt like the worst brother on the face of the planet for leaving her in tears yesterday morning. They hadn't talked when he stopped home to change before heading to Mercedes' house that night either. And unfortunately, he'd gotten more than a little preoccupied with his girlfriend's lips and collarbone after the game of strip-pool had ended with her almost naked.

So his plan to leave the party early to spend some time with his siblings hadn't worked out as well as he'd hoped. But Sam couldn't—no; he _wouldn't_—avoid working this out with Stacey any longer. She may not be his entire world, but she was a huge part of it. The fact that Mercedes had smacked him for it after he let her know what was going on seemed to up the urgency of the situation.

She cared for Stacey just as much as Sam did—and she wasn't happy about him leaving the distance between the two of them, especially not if she was the cause. Sam didn't want Mercedes to feel guilty for something that neither of them had planned for.

With tired eyes, he sluggishly slid his way out of bed—running a hand through his mussed locks. He trudged into the bathroom and over to the sink, being sure to turn the tap onto cold. He splashed his face a couple of times to wake himself up and then patted his face dry with a fluffy red towel that was hanging off the hook near the sink.

He smiled when he inhaled the clean scent of the fabric softener and hung the towel back up to dry. Sam blinked at himself in the mirror and sighed before he moved out of the restroom to grab a t-shirt.

He pulled it on over his head before he made his way out of his bedroom and into the hallway. Sam walked towards Stacey's bedroom door with quiet footsteps. When he reached her room, he could hear her small body as she shuffled around—whispering under her breath. Sam was sure that she was playing dolls or talking to _Mr. Fluffy_; the stuffed rabbit she'd had since birth. It was a present that he'd given her when she was born. Actually, he gave it to both her and Stevie, but his brother had basically ignored the toy while Stacey latched onto it like a leech.

Its leg had been torn off and sewn on so many times that they gave up on hiding the stitches. Mr. Fluffy had a defected ear from being tugged on one too many times. He only had one eye and an absurdly pink nose amidst the caramel coloring of his fur. Stacey loved that rabbit. She talked to him all the time, usually when she was scared or incredibly upset. If she was having a conversation with Mr. Fluffy—then Sam knew that she was_ really_ hurt.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts and suck in a deep breath before he knocked on her door. All sounds inside the room stopped abruptly and Sam wanted to hide a wince. He knocked again to see if she'd respond.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Sam," he replied. A long, tense silence stretched for what felt like eternity before Sam heard her speak again.

"What do _you_ want?"

The accusatory tone in her voice broke Sam's heart. He rested his forehead against her door and sighed softly. "Stace, let me in," he said, "I wanna talk to you."

"What if I don't wanna talk to you no more?"

"Are you really going to be that way?"

_Silence_—an angry, hurt one that chilled Sam to the core. Oh, how he hated when she was mad at him. He turned and pressed his back against the wall next to her door, before he slid down to the ground. This was going to take awhile.

"Sunshin—"

"_Don't act like you care_!" she yelled back and Sam felt like the scum of the earth when he heard her start crying again. "You didn't have time for me before, so why are you here now?"

"You know that I love you," he replied, just loudly enough for her to hear his voice. As angry as she was, he knew that she was listening to him. "You also know that I'm not perfect—"

"I know that you're a giant butthead—"

"Is name-calling necessary?" Sam asked, amusement coloring his tone.

"Yes," she huffed back and Sam grinned to himself. She was still angry, but Sam found her rage cute. Not that he would tell her that now, of course.

"I didn't mean to ignore you, Stacey," Sam said, "That was the last thing that I ever wanted to do."

"I get it," she replied, "You have friends and a girlfriend now. What good does a stupid little sister do?"

"Hey," Sam told her, "don't talk that way. You're not stupid, and you're an awesome little sister. I'm really sorry that I've been gone so much for the past few weeks and I promise to spend more time with you and Stevie."

"You _**promise**_?"

Sam could hear her crying again and the hesitance in her voice killed him inside. He hated that he'd broken her trust so badly.

"I promise," he replied. There was a long silence, before Sam heard the doorknob turn slowly. He sat up straighter, crossing his legs underneath him as the door opened. Sam saw her blonde head poke out of the open doorway and she stopped when she didn't see him.

"Sammy?" she called, confused.

"Sunshine—"he said, startling her. Her head whipped around to glance at him and Sam's heart clenched when he saw the tear tracks on her cheeks and the puffiness of her blue eyes. He felt horrible when he realized that she was clutching Mr. Fluffy to her chest. "Ah, Stacey, come here."

She immediately burst into tears and Sam opened his arms to her.

The small girl practically flew into his chest—her bunny plastered against his shoulder as she threw her arms around his neck and clung to him. Sam pulled her into his lap, pressing kisses against her blonde hair and rubbing calming circles on her back.

"I know that it's not easy, Stacey," he whispered to her, rocking her gently in his arms, "and I know that you've gotten used to me being around you all the time, but we can't be that way forever. It doesn't mean I love you any less. It just means that I have to spend time with others, so I can grow up and be successful."

"I don't want you to go away," she mumbled into his neck. Sam felt her tremble and he hated doing this to her. She clutched him tighter. "I don't want you to spend time with anyone else."

"Why not?" he asked her, "This isn't the first time that I've had a girlfriend or other friends."

"I know," she replied, sniffling. "But you never looked at Quinn or Santana like you look at Mercy."

Sam's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You looked at Quinn like she was really pretty, and you and Santana spent so much time kissing that you never actually looked at her, but Mercy, you stare at her like she's special. You laugh and you make jokes—you're the Sammy that _I_ know around her. You never were that way around Quinn or Santana."

Sam wanted to blink at his sister in shock. Who knew that she was so observant? And what could he possibly say to that? A strange feeling twisted in his stomach—one that was unfamiliar and heavy, but amazing. He pushed it out of his mind.

"But why is that a bad thing?" he asked her.

Stacey pulled back from him, wiping her face with the back of her hand and clutching her rabbit in her hands. Sam tucked her hair behind her ear and then tugged on the lobe—making her scrunch up her nose and giggle.

Sam smiled at her and she smiled back.

"It's not a bad thing," she admitted, "I just—I don't want you to replace me with Mercy."

Sam's heart broke at the pain that crossed her small face.

"How could you possibly think that anyone will ever replace you?" Sam asked softly. Stacey stared up at him, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "You're my sunshine," he told her, "You light up my world like no one else can. I love you and I care about Mercy a lot, but it's in a different way. She'll never replace you. I have enough room in my heart for both of you. Okay?"

Stacey nodded and Sam smiled. "I'm sorry for being so mean," she told him and he chuckled, pulling the small child into another hug.

"We all have bad days," he said, "I'm just happy that we're alright now."

Stacey kissed his cheek before she snuggled into his chest. Sam rested his head atop hers. "Will you sing to me for a little while? I've missed your bedtime songs."

"Sure, Sunshine," he replied.

* * *

><p><strong>May 28, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**Eternal Baptist Church**

**Lima, Ohio**

**10:39AM**

Her phone rang just as she finished talking with Gail, the adult choir director, about the upcoming competition season. Taking a moment to excuse herself after her mother joined the conversation, she answered her phone.

"Hello?"

"Mercy," Brittany said from the other line, "they said yes!"

Blinking in slight confusion, Mercedes responded, "Who said yes, Britt?"

"My boss, duh," she replied as though Mercedes should automatically know what she was talking about. Brittany was a great friend, but sometimes her aloof manner was a tad bewildering.

"Your boss said yes about what?"

"About the dance studio!" she answered, "The piano room that I told you about last night—"

"Oh!" Mercedes felt like an idiot for forgetting that. "Yes, I remember now. And that's great!"

"We'll have to schedule to use the room, but he said we should be fine."

"That's wonderful, Brittany," Mercedes said, "I'll let everyone know. "

"Okay," she answered, "Bye Mercedes!"

"Bye Brittany," she replied and then ended the call. That was a fairly straightforward conversation with the blonde girl. From some stories she'd heard from Artie, Mercedes had been expecting something way different.

She caught sight of her twin brothers standing near a group of girls by the hospitality table and she rolled her eyes at the cheesy grin on Kyler's face. Mercedes almost burst out laughing when her mom made her way over and smacked them both upside the head.

"_Ma!"_ Kyler's protest was heard all the way over where Mercedes was standing.

"Boy, don't even," Delia replied sharply—Mercedes could practically feel the glare she was shooting the twins. Even across the room, the authority in her mom's voice made _Mercedes_ want to take a seat. "Both of you need to sit your butts in those pews and focus on **Jesus**, not his creations."

"Mama," Joshua started, "Jesus told us to _love_ our neighbors—I'm just tryin' to follow his commandments."

She watched as her mother reached out and snatched the lobe of her brother's ear. Josh faintly howled in pain. "Joshua Anthony Jones, Jesus also ripped a rib out of a man's side to create a woman. I promise that the rib I'll rip out your behind won't make anything quite so beautiful. You better take your tail over to that chair and follow _my_ commandments."

Kyler opened his mouth to say something, but Delia prevented that by grabbing his ear too. The twins looked mortified as the group of girls laughed at their predicament. Her mother didn't care though as she escorted both of them by the ear to the place where her dad was sitting. The fact that her dad was grinning at them in amusement made Mercedes giggle—her brothers' should have known better.

"It amazes me that Dell has those boys bobbin' and weavin' and trying to take a whole pew of seats after she lays the act right, but she still can't reach the top shelf in her own pantry."

Hearing the familiar voice behind her startled Mercedes, but the laughter that followed made her grin.

"Auntie Lynn!" she said, turning to face her aunt. She was greeted with a bright smile and open arms. "She does have a way of making the fear of God more real," she replied with another giggle, "How are you?"

"I'm good, darlin'," she replied as Mercedes stepped into the hug. "How are you, sweetheart?"

Pulling away, Mercedes smiled. "I'm alright," she said before she glanced over at Mr. Evans—Jeff, who was standing right next to Lynn. Stevie's hand was clasped in his father's, but Mercedes moved forward and wrapped the tall man in a hug.

"Hi Mercedes," he told her with the same crooked grin that Sam had. She briefly wondered where he was before shaking it off—she'd find him later.

"Hi Jeff!" she greeted, before she stooped down and opened her arms to Stevie. He gave her a shy grin, but he hugged her tightly. "Hello handsome," she told him and he blushed.

"Hey Mercy," he replied, "You look pretty."

She beamed at him and his face turned bright red when she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Jeff chuckled when she thanked him and straightened up.

"Talk about perfect timing," she said. Lynn's expression turned curious and Mercedes smiled. "I don't know if Sam told you or not, but the glee club agreed to perform at your opening."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Lynn replied, her hazel eyes sparkling. Mercedes didn't miss the fond look that Jeff shot her aunt, but she didn't say anything. That was certainly none of her business.

"Yeah, we're all excited too," Mercedes said. "We have a rehearsal space, but I needed to get some specifics about what you were looking for like what type of songs you want, how long you want the entire performance to be—"

"I think that's our cue to leave, buddy," Jeff fake-whispered to Stevie, who smirked. Lynn quirked her lips at him and Mercedes laughed when he gave her an impish grin in return. "We'll save you a seat!"

The two of them walked off and Lynn shook her head at them, before falling right back into conversation with Mercedes. They discussed details for about ten minutes and Mercedes had all the information that she needed.

"We'll most likely have to change some things, but I think we've got a solid idea to build on," Mercedes said finally, closing the note tab on her cell phone screen.

"You know where to find me if you have any more questions, darlin'," Lynn told her, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Mercedes' forehead. She gave her aunt a smile.

"Do you know where Sam is?"

Lynn shot her a knowing look. Mercedes blushed in response.

"He's around here somewhere," she replied, "He and Stacey were being all giggly about something in the car. I think Stevie's in on it, because he was excited when we first got here too." Lynn shook her head in amusement. "The two of them booked it from the car as soon as we pulled into the parking space—I don't even think Jeff had pulled the keys from the ignition before they were out of the door."

Mercedes laughed. "I'll talk to him after church then," she said, "Thanks Lynn."

"No problem, sweetheart," Lynn said before she turned and walked towards the pew where Jeff and Stevie were sitting alongside Mercedes' family. Jeff and her father were laughing about something and Stevie found himself between Annabelle and Trey; the three of them chattering loudly.

Deciding to not waste time, Mercedes pulled out her cell phone again and typed out a text to everyone. She kept it simple—giving the address of the dance studio that Brittany texted her, and telling them to meet the next day at 8PM. She also let them know that she'd fill them in on the details then.

It only took about two minutes to get responses from everyone. She was putting her phone in the pocket of her sundress when she heard Stacey's giggle.

Mercedes couldn't help the grin that crossed her face when she spotted her boyfriend walking inside the church, his hand gripped by a chattering Stacey, who was wearing a lavender dress with lace bands that stretched from top of her dress and fell over the A-line tulle skirt. Her dark purple flats sparkled as she walked inside and the matching cardigan she wore contrasted with the tumble of blonde curls that fell over her shoulders.

Mercedes was happy to see that Sam had worked things out with Stacey. She had no desire to come between the two of them. The two seemed closer than ever looking at them now. She knew instantly when she was spotted. Stacey's squeal of her name was enough of an indicator.

The small blonde practically dragged her brother in her direction, but she got impatient about ten feet away and let go of his hand to sprint to her. Stacey crashed into her side and Mercedes huffed out a laugh as the girl wrapped her in a tight hug.

"Guess what, Mercy!" she said, her blue eyes shining in excitement. Sam finally reached them and he chuckled. Mercedes thought it was unfairly attractive. "Guess! Please?"

"Give her a chance to speak, Sunshine," Sam told his sister, his voice low and amused. Mercedes was sure that her face was on fire. She certainly hadn't expected to have flashbacks to the previous evening when she saw him again. She knew things would be different between them, but _holy crap_.

Stacey pouted in his direction, but she stopped talking.

"What is it?" Mercedes asked—forcibly putting her attention on the kid wrapped around her. She had to remind herself that it was inappropriate to think sexual things about her boyfriend when his seven-year old sister was hugging her.

"Can I tell her Sammy?" Stacey asked and Sam laughed again. Mercedes stared at his lips and his shoulders in the crisp sage green button down he was wearing—boy was looking _fine_. His black dress pants were cut very well and his hair looked slightly windswept and his green eyes were twinkling as though he knew exactly what—_shit_. Sam was smirking at her.

She blushed furiously and he bit his lip to stop himself from laughing.

"Of course you can tell her," he replied softly and Mercedes wanted to melt into the carpet when she felt a shiver slip down her spine and pool in her lower abdomen. Was it just her or was it warm in here?

Why was he talking that way? In that low, rumbling, sexy voice that he'd used all last night as his lips traced patterns against the skin of her neck and shoulders and bust line—he knew it drove her insane.

She was gonna kill him after this. He had lost his damn mind if he thought this was okay. She was in _church._ Boy was sippin' on the wrong type of syrup if he thought she was down with being sacrilegious.

Mercedes needed some serious prayer for being adulterous in the house of God. Her mother would beat her with the bible if she knew what was going in her head right now. She gave Sam a stern look and he grinned at her, before she turned her attention to Stacey.

"Stevie and I are joining the children's choir!" Stacey exclaimed and Mercedes beamed at her.

"Really?" she asked, feeling truly excited. "That's great!"

"We're gonna be at rehearsal tomorrow," she replied, "And I can't wait. Sammy told us all about your awards for playing music and that you have the voice of an _angel_."

Mercedes raised an eyebrow in Sam's direction, grateful that it was his turn to blush. She smiled at him though. "You said that?"

"It's true," he replied, running his fingers through his hair. Mercedes practically drooled when it fell in a ridiculously attractive way across his forehead. It wasn't fair!

"I don't know about angel—"

"You have the best voice in the city of Lima, Cede," Sam said firmly, "Probably even Ohio."

Mercedes gave him a look that clearly told him what she thought about that statement. He gave her a look right back. "I'd say the galaxy, but then you'd really ignore me."

She rolled her eyes at him, ignoring the smile he was shooting her.

"I'm happy that you signed up," she told Stacey, "We're gonna have a lot of fun together."

Stacey beamed before she let Mercedes go. "I'm gonna go sit with Lynn and Belle, but I'll see you over there, Mercy."

Mercedes nodded and Sam tugged on one of Stacey's curls—making the kid scrunch her nose at him and bat his hand away from her hair. She turned on her heel and practically skipped over to the row where their families were sitting.

Mercedes watched her go until she felt an arm wrap itself around her shoulders. She turned her head to look up at Sam and found herself blushing at the intense look in his green eyes. "You look stunning," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Her blush deepened, but she turned into his embrace; resting her head on his shoulder and gripping his waist lightly. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric and she remembered how it had felt when he was laying on top of her—no fabric separating their skin.

She blushed so hard that she was sure that she was bright red, and she buried her head in Sam's chest. He laughed softly and she felt him wrap both arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head this time.

Sometimes, she forgot how short she was in comparison to him.

"This is so embarrassing," she mumbled and Sam's chest rumbled with another laugh. She was surrounded by his scent and his warmth and it was driving her crazy. She wanted to pull him into a kiss, but this was not the place.

She could already feel her brothers' gazes burning into her back.

"Your attraction to me is embarrassing?" Sam asked, amused. "I'd be more worried if you didn't want to be around me."

She pulled back to glare up at him and Sam winked at her. She quirked her lips at him in fond-exasperation and he grinned in response. "After yesterday, I'm sure that you are very aware of my attraction to you."

"I think I'll need some more evidence. If you do some poppin' and lockin' in a private show—"

"Boy, you need to_ stop_," she whispered to him, both irritated and amused by his antics.

"You like it," he replied, "and you liked it last night too."

That sounded so much worse than what they had actually done, but it put the desired flush in her cheeks. Sam chuckled again and Mercedes glared.

"Are you okay with what happened?" he asked and Mercedes hesitated enough to make Sam frown in concern. She hurried to calm him.

"I'm okay with it," she answered, "I just don't know what to do with all these feelings I'm having now." It was humiliating to admit, but she had promised to be honest with Sam about these things and from the understanding look on his face, she was glad that she had told him.

"We'll take it one step at a time," he replied, "and we'll go as slow as you want."

She nodded at him.

Mercedes had been thinking about something on this topic for awhile, but she was hesitant to bring it up to Sam. It sounded so stupid, but she thought it would help her a lot.

"Can you come over tonight?" she asked and Sam blinked at her, slightly surprised. "I have work training right after church, but I don't have anything after five."

"I know that Lynn is dragging my family to the mall to get new work clothes and stuff," Sam said, "And then I have my last shift at the pizzeria. It ends at ten. I can drop by then."

"That's fine," she replied, "I just want to spend some time with you and maybe talk to you about a few things."

Sam's eyebrows furrowed. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," she agreed, "I just—I want to talk to you about some stuff, but I'd rather not discuss it in a church."

Sam smiled, before he kissed her temple again. They stepped out of their embrace and her fingers ended up tangled with his. Sam kissed the back of her hand as they walked towards the seats where their families sat.

"I'm all yours tonight," he told her. Mercedes couldn't resist kissing his cheek as they stood at the end of the pew, hands still entwined. They only let go when they were asked to stand for the opening prayer.

* * *

><p><strong>May 28, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**City of Lima Shopping Center**

**Lima, Ohio**

**1:45PM**

"It's a button down shirt, Jeffrey," Lynn called into the dressing room, he could hear her foot tapping against the floor impatiently, "not an astronaut suit. What on earth is takin' you so long?"

"Hold your horses woman," he responded, his voice gruff with amusement, "I have a _delicate _form. I can't just rip my clothes off." The huff of irritation that she let out made him grin as he leaned against the wall of his stall—the shirt she'd been waiting to see on him for the past five minutes already on his body.

It didn't look half bad if he said so himself, but he needed some sort of payback for her dragging him to the mall. Making her wait twice as long as she needed to was quite entertaining—at least for him.

"_Delicate_?" she asked, disbelieving. "Even if you are _delicate_, it doesn't take you five minutes to put on a shirt—"

"I don't think I can figure out these buttons—"

"The buttons?" she cried and Jeff had to bite his lip to stop from laughing. "Are you _kidding_ me? You can build a skyscraper but you can't figure out _buttons_—"

"They're square—"he protested with mock-indignation in his voice and Lynn let out a frustrated grunt.

"_Squ_—you know what, I'm coming in."

Oh shit.

"What-? No, Lynn—" Jeff pushed himself off the wall as he heard her footsteps approaching and he started unbuttoning the shirt. _She was gonna kill_—the door banged open and Lynn stared at him.

Jeff stared back and then he gave her a sheepish grin as her eyes swept over the shirt that had clearly been on him for awhile and Jeff knew he was in trouble.

"Jeffrey Matthew Evans!" she snapped, her eyes narrowed in his direction as she stormed into the dressing room stall. "You've had this shirt on the whole time, haven't you?"

"Maybe," he replied, winking at her as his lips twitched into a grin. Lynn reached out and smacked him on the shoulder. Jeff laughed and she hit him again.

"You _conniving_ old man," she said, her hands dealing out a barrage of slaps to Jeff's chest and arms. He laughed as he dodged some of her blows and she chased him around the small stall.

"I ain't old!"

"You're so old even the dinosaurs wouldn't remember you!"

"Lynnette!" Jeff gasped in mock-affront and she giggled at the look on his face. "_So mean_!"

"You deserve it!" she replied, "I can't believe that you were hiding in here like a little kid."

"You call me old and then you call me a child, you can't have it both ways—"

"You're such a smartass—"

"Language, darling. We just came back from church—"

"Jeffrey!" Lynn howled, her eyes were twinkling with annoyance and more than a hint of amusement. Jeff knew he had her—she so wasn't mad anymore.

"What? I'm just sayin'. You listen and wave your hand when the pastor is preachin' and then you cuss me out for testing your patience—"

"You were being annoying—"

"Patience is a virtue—"

Lynn launched herself at him in an attempt to smack him again and he caught her hands with a laugh, before he lifted them over her head and twirled her around. Her back to his chest, Jeff brought her hands down before he let them go and his wiggling fingers tickled her waist.

Her shriek of laughter had Jeff chuckling and she immediately started fighting to get out of his grasp.

"Jeff-rey!" she cried through giggles as his fingers assaulted her waist and ribs. She was wiggling hard in his embrace and Jeff loved seeing her breathless with laughter. "Stop it!"

"Nope," he said impishly, before Lynn found enough strength to elbow him. The pain distracted him long enough for Lynn to make a break for it, but he caught her before she could get away.

Jeff grabbed her waist and spun her around. Lynn ended up pressed solidly against him, her hazel eyes bright with laughter and her cheeks flushed from all the giggling. The moment changed when her hands clutched his biceps and Jeff couldn't find anything about this embrace amusing anymore.

The desire to kiss her swept over his body like a tidal wave. All he could do was remember how sweet her mouth tasted and how soft her lips were. It pained him to know how much his body strained to make her understand the depth of his feelings for her and he couldn't do anything about it.

His thoughts were cloudy as he stared into her eyes. Lynn's desire to wait didn't seem to be faring as well as she'd hoped. It was practically impossible to deny what they had after the kisses they'd shared. To get a taste of her wasn't enough—Jeff wanted more; so much more. He wanted to kiss her everywhere—her mouth, her skin, her whole body. He wanted to taste her, make her cry out his name, but most of all, he wanted her to be his.

Lynn's lips were parted in shock and her eyes were wide—the hazel irises glowing with an explosion of emotion.

"Do you mean that?" she whispered, her lashes growing heavy with tears. Jeff hadn't even realized that he'd been speaking aloud, but he meant it—every word.

"Yes," he replied and Lynn swallowed hard—blinking away tears, but she didn't quite succeed. He brushed his finger across her cheek; erasing the path the tear had taken and Lynn shuddered in his arms.

"I will wait for the day that you can do all of those things to me, Jeffrey," she told him. "Three weeks won't be forever."

Jeff smiled down at her before pressing a kiss to her forehead—he would respect her wishes because he could understand. And it hurt to not kiss her, but he could wait; she wasn't going anywhere.

The two of them were distracted when there was a hard knock at the door.

"Um, sorry sir, but we don't allow couples to be in stalls_ together_." The voice sounded incredibly uncomfortable and Lynn and Jeff finally realized what it might seem like they were doing.

Lynn gasped and then blushed furiously, her hands covering her mouth in embarrassment. Jeff simply started laughing.

"We'll be right out," he replied and they listened as the store employee hurried away. Jeffrey grinned down at a red-faced Lynn before he pressed another kiss to her forehead. "Why don't you go check on the kids and I'll get dressed."

"Oh, _no_!" Lynn cried as she tore out of his embrace. "I left Stevie and Stacey sitting—I'm a horrible person—" Jeff didn't even get a word out as she ripped open the stall door and bolted into the hallway, frantically calling for the twins.

He didn't think for a second that his kids had wondered off without him or Lynn. They knew better than that, and when he heard them reply to Lynn and her sigh of relief, Jeff smiled to himself.

He started unbuttoning the shirt as he heard Sam join the group. Lynn's exclamation of, "What in _tarnation_ is that shirt you're holding, Sam?" He couldn't help but laugh when his son's confused voice asked why she was so upset at his clothing choice.

* * *

><p><strong>May 28, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**City of Lima Shopping Center**

**Lima, Ohio**

**3:42PM**

"Lynn, I'm going to be late," Sam groaned as she packed as many of their shopping bags into the trunk of the car. They'd lost track of time when Sam, Stevie, and Jeffrey wandered into the video game store as Lynn and Stacey went to look for dresses for the opening night of Clarity. The boys had gotten bored after about an hour of shopping so it fell to Lynn to find work clothes for Sam and sports clothes for all three kids.

Stacey had needed a leotard for dance class and ballet shoes, so that had taken over an hour to purchase, but Stacey loved everything she got—even the bright blue and black running shoes, Lynn had been sweet-talked into buying.

"Sam," she heard Jeff rebuke, "Hush up and put on your work shirt."

Lynn made sure to organize everything in the trunk as quickly as possible while Sam stripped off his church shirt and slipped his Pizza Parlor polo over his head. There was a reason that she'd made him wear his black slacks to church this morning, even though his charcoal gray ones would've gone better with his shirt.

Lynn slammed the trunk closed after placing their last purchase inside and then she hustled around the side and worked to get Stacey in her booster seat and buckled in. Stevie allowed her to fuss over his straps without complaint—the bag of grapes she handed the twins and the apple juice boxes probably helped distract them.

"Jeff, you can drive," she said as she made her way to the passenger side of the vehicle, where Jeff was pinning Sam's name tag on his shirt, or at least trying to. She shooed Jeff away from Sam, handing over the car keys before she stepped forward and helped Sam.

"Tuck your shirt in, darlin'," she told him as she fixed his shirt collar and buttoned it up for him.

Sam did as asked and Lynn started fixing his mussed hair. She turned to hand Sam his hat when she heard a shrill whistle from the parking lane across from them. Sam glanced over and Lynn lifted her eyes to see a car full of college age girls making kissy faces towards him.

"You've got some nice abs over there, hun," A brunette yelled, "Want to come show me how well they work?" She thrust obscenely from her position in the seat.

Sam's eyes widened in shock and his face turned bright red.

Her friends cackled with obnoxious laughter as Sam's ears turned red in embarrassment. He looked completely self-conscious as he turned away from them. Lynn's eyes narrowed when she saw the look in his green eyes. Sam was a _baby_ and they were over here hitting on him like they could toss out a five dollar bill for an all night favor. _**Oh hell to the no.**_

Stepping forward as the girls' statements got even more degrading, she watched Sam give an awkward look back at them and one girl had the audacity to call out, "Hey baby, can I have yo' numba?"

"You say another thing to my kid and I'll give you a _numba, _alright!" she yelled, pulling Sam behind her. "It'll be the number for the nearest ambulance to come pick your sorry tails up from the concrete and the other number will be for the cops to come and stop me from putting my foot in your mouths."

Sam's jaw fell open in shock, but Lynn didn't care.

"No one asked you, bitch!"

"You haven't seen the _bitch_ in me yet, girl," she snapped, her hands on her hips as she shot the snot-faced brats a cold look. "But you will soon if you don't put your foot on that gas pedal and take your butts away from my family."

"I ain't scared of you—"

Lynn let out a growl and the girl's bravado died an instant death. She paled before she sped away. Lynn watched them drive off, fury burning her insides and she turned to face Sam again. He stared at her, an unreadable expression on his face—and Lynn wondered if she'd gone too far.

"So this _numba_ you were talkin' about—"he teased.

She sighed in fond exasperation and Sam cracked a smile at her.

"Get in the car," she told him, pressing his hat against his chest. Sam took it with a laugh and stuck it on his head without even trying to fix his hair. She shook her head at him as she walked past to climb into the passenger seat.

Sam waited until she was buckled in to lean forward and say, "I've never seen someone so short be so scary—"

"Samuel!"

"You were like this terrifying midget—"

"Sam!" Lynn turned in her seat to smack him on the leg and he leaned away from her swinging hands, laughing. Jeff pulled out of the parking space as she continued to try and beat an impish Sam. When she finally calmed down, she turned to face the front of the car—Sam snickering in the backseat.

"For someone so small," Jeff said, "you sure do threaten a lot of people."

"What is _that _supposed to mean?"

"When you look bite-sized, it makes it hard to warn people how about how bad ass you are," he replied, "You're like the kitten that has an inner rampaging lion—"

"_Jeffrey!"_

"Ow, Lynn! Don't hit me while I'm driving!"

"You're not driving; we're at a red light."

"Evil, I swear you are."

"Suck it up, old man."

"Kitten breath."

"Dinosaur ancestor."

"The midget who lives."

"_Rude_."

"That all you got for me, Mittens?"

Lynn growled at Jeff and Stacey spoke up for the first time, "Angry kitty!"

Jeff and Sam almost bust a gut when they started laughing. Stevie laughed along with them and Stacey giggled at the put-out look Lynn was sporting. She sulked in her seat, arms crossed across her chest and Jeff chuckled. He held a hand out to her over their arm rest and she sniffed at him, indignant.

She felt it when he poked her in the leg and he gave her an amused look. "Okay, I'm very sorry, Lynn for teasing and laughing at you. I'm an idiot and you don't at all look like an enraged kitten when you're telling off a group of girls for coming onto Sam."

"I look like a _fierce _dragon," she told him, the humor of the situation hitting her.

Jeff side-eyed her, but he kept his mouth shut and nodded obligingly, though his lips kept twitching. "You are positively fiery," he agreed—she could hear the amusement in his voice as he spoke.

"And scary."

"_Very scary_."

Sam made a loud whipped noise from the backseat and Jeff shot him the stink-eye through the rearview mirror. The teenager grinned back at his dad.

Lynn wrinkled her nose at him and said, "Am I the most intimidating dragon ever?

"People _cower _before you," he told her, "Or at least college girls calling my son a 'hottie with a body' do."

Lynn's façade shattered and she burst out laughing. Jeff chucked with her and she giggled. Her fingers finally entwined loosely with his and Jeff squeezed her hand.

Somehow the radio was turned on and they sang obnoxiously for the rest of the ride to Sam's work. As soon as they pulled into the parking lot, Sam leapt out of the car after a quick goodbye kiss pressed to Lynn's cheek from over the back of her seat.

They waved goodbye. "Your dad and I will get his car and drop this one off in an hour!" she yelled after him. He shot her a thumbs up over his shoulder to let her know that he got the message before he walked into the door with one minute to spare.

Lynn felt Jeff's fingers tighten around hers as she rolled up her window. She smiled at him and sat back in her seat as they drove off.

Today couldn't have been a better day.

* * *

><p><strong>May 28, 2011 (Sunday)<strong>

**The Jones Estate—Pool House**

**Lima, Ohio**

**10:11PM**

Mercedes was rockin' out. Her hips swinging and singing along to the radio as she went over her lesson plan for her first children's choir practice tomorrow. Her training for camp had gone really well, and she got along wonderfully with all of her co-workers. It would be a long day full of children for her, but she was just as excited as she was nervous.

The pool house was her place—her studio for all things music and fashion. A spiral staircase, lined in twinkling lights led up to a second floor loft. She had her own mini recording studio upstairs to the far left side of the lofted space. To the far right was her fabric space—where rolls of fabric and a huge sewing machine and mannequins where half finished outfits rested. Kurt had loved coming here; the thought made her heart burn and she shook off the reminder of the shambles that their friendship was in.

The pool house had large bay windows, hard wood floors and the whole place was painted a soft lavender with beige, dark purple and midnight blue accents. Mercedes had the ceiling painted with twinkling stars and several of them were placed intermittently along the walls.

Her favorite spot was the corner where the lavender paint deepened into dark purples and eventually dark blue. The whole corner looked like the midnight sky had seeped into the room. It set the tone of the entire place.

There was another baby grand piano in the far corner of the room, and her large sectional couch had decorative pillows tossed every which way. It was like living in a dream—a separate planet where she could just be Mercedes.

On the first floor there was a large room that sat at the base of three sunken steps and it stretched into a bedroom area that had been cordoned off by sheer curtains, and heavier curtains layered behind it until it looked like a solid wall. Only a tied off space between the curtains revealed the king sized bed behind it.

It was a simple striped bed spread, but the explosion of pillows balanced it out. Mercedes loved her space almost as much as she loved her bedroom. The large windows on the side of the house were facing the glowing pool and Mercedes loved the tinting the color of the water gave the room—especially at night.

She hummed as she flipped through her notes and sheet music, making sure that she had everything put together. As she prepared for the next evening, Mercedes sporadically checked her phone for a text from Sam. He'd said that his shift ended at ten, but he still hadn't messaged her.

Mercedes shook off the slight worry and buried herself in her notes—she wouldn't be the girlfriend who needed to know where he was every minute of the day. She got so involved in her music that a loud knock at the door of the pool house made her jump; her hands almost dropping the papers in her hands.

Brow furrowed, she stacked them neatly on the coffee table in front of the beige sectional sofa that sat in the middle of the room and trekked across the hardwood floors towards the door. There wasn't a peephole at the door, but she knew that whoever it was would've had to go through the main house to get here; and the person would have to know how to wind their way through the pathways that led from the backyard to the pool house.

"Who is it?" she called through the door and she heard a familiar chuckle on the other side.

"It's Sam," he replied. A grin stretched across her face and Mercedes nervously brushed her fingers through her hair and fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt, before she pushed her glasses up her nose and opened the door.

Her breath was taken away.

Sam's green eyes looked unholy in the porch lighting and she couldn't stop her eyes from raking over his form. He was wearing a form-fitting black polo that had been un-tucked and a nice pair of black slacks that made his legs look sexy. His chucks peeked out from underneath his pants legs and Mercedes could barely take her eyes off the way his biceps shifted as he leaned against the door frame, one hand fiddling with his removed cap.

And lord, she couldn't even get started on how mussed his hair was—the way it fell into his eyes was practically her undoing.

"I brought pizza," he said with a boyish grin as he turned around and leaned over to grab the box. Mercedes' eyes landed on his ass and she felt overly warm all of a sudden. Sam didn't seem to even notice her distraction as he moved to face her, excitement in his expression. "My boss gave it to me for free! It's the stuffed crust supreme pizza that you like."

His happiness was infectious, but Mercedes was too distracted by how good he smelled and even more by how good he looked in that uniform.

Sam's grin was bright and his eyes were twinkling with pride as he continued, "She said that I've been an exemplary employee. She was sad to see me go, though."

Sam walked forward and Mercedes let him move past her into the pool house. She closed the door absently; her eyes locked onto his body as he stared around in awe, and then placed the pizza on the coffee table. She followed him as he turned to face her, his hands shoved into his pockets and sporting a bemused smile on his face.

"She said that I increased her sales by twenty-three percent," he told her, shaking his head in amusement. Mercedes watched in a daze as Sam pulled one hand from his pocket and ran it through his hair. "I don't exactly know how _I_ did that, but whatever—"

"Do you have any idea how _hot_ you are?"Mercedes breathed—what was wrong with her? Her hormones were having a rave in her vagina and her whole body seemed to tingle whenever she got a whiff of Sam's cologne. She had been attracted to Sam, because hello, boy was attractive, but it had never been this extreme from_ just_ staring at him.

But boy was working that pizza boy uniform. No wonder sales went up so much.

Sam looked taken-aback at her question and his cheeks turned red. "What?" he asked, glancing down at his clothes as Mercedes moved closer to him. "I'm not wearing anything special—"

"I don't know what it is about this all black outfit, but you look hella good," she told him as she stepped closer to him. Sam's surprise was written all across his face, but he looked pleased to see her attraction.

"I think this uniform has magic powers or somethin'," he said softly, pulling his hands out of his pockets to grasp her waist. Mercedes shivered when he tugged her against his body and her hands slid up his arms and over his shoulders. "I got hit on by a car full of college girls—"

"_Excuse me_?" That jealousy and irritation couldn't possibly be coming from her, could it? The amused grin on Sam's face answered her question, though.

"Lynn went all protective and cussed them out," he finished and Mercedes laughed at the thought of her aunt getting all riled up. She could imagine Lynn being defensive about those she cared for. "It was pretty hilarious—embarrassing, but hilarious."

"I hope you told them that you had a girlfriend," she said as his hands rubbed across her waist and lower back. She felt his fingers playing with the tips of her hair as he rested his forehead against hers.

"I didn't have to," he replied, "They didn't stand a chance against you."

Mercedes stared at him, before she lifted herself onto her toes and pressed her lips against his in a possessive kiss. Sam grinned against her mouth, but he responded by leaning into their lip lock—his grip on Mercedes' waist tightening as their lips meshed together.

Before she knew what she was doing, Mercedes found herself backing Sam against the edge of the sofa. When his calves hit the cushions, she pulled away from the kiss, breathing hard. Without a second of hesitation, she pushed Sam into the couch. He landed with a huff of surprise and he stared up at her—his lips kiss swollen and looking just as handsome as he had when he walked into the pool house.

She took off her glasses and placed them on the coffee table, before she straddled Sam's thighs and inched her way forward. When her face was directly above his, Sam's hands traced up her thighs—leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his fingers glided along her bare skin; he grabbed her hips and pulled her down into his lap. She stared into his green eyes, unprepared to see the darkening of his green eyes that was slowly but surely becoming familiar to her.

And she found it impossible to resist his kiss.

Their lips came together in a rush of fire that had Mercedes on edge. Her hands went to his mussed blond strands as he kissed her and she was incredibly aware of how tight his grasp was on her hips.

She didn't know how long they sat there—trading hot, wet kisses that made Mercedes quiver on the inside, but Sam's lips were addicting and the way he traced her mouth with his tongue had her cycling through a chorus of sounds that would've had Mercedes blushing if she wasn't an active participant.

Their hips ground together as their tongues twisted. Sam nibbled at her neck and suckled her collarbone—his hands grasping her breasts tentatively, but gaining confidence with each gasp she released.

A fire was licking its way up her body—each brush of Sam's hand, every kiss, and every graze of his teeth against her skin brought her closer and closer to a precipice and Mercedes was scared that there was no turning back as their grinding grew deeper and heavier. Hearing Sam groan when she twisted her hips a certain way was just as startling as it was powerful—his eyes rolled when she gyrated in a slow circle against the throbbing bulge beneath her crotch and a gasp left her lips when he dug his fingers into her waist and thrust his hips upwards.

Stars were dancing behind her eyes and she was quickly getting swept into a maelstrom of emotions and _fire_ and lust that had her thoughts clouded.

"Sam," she moaned as his thumb brushed over a taut cloth-covered nipple and she tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth until he caught her mouth in another passionate kiss.

She was so close. Their hips moving quickly, they ground against each other—gasping and kissing as Mercedes was tugged into a current that was overwhelming, _too much_, need more, **oh god. **

"Fuck Cede," Sam hissed as she lifted and dropped her hips—trying and _straining_ for it—it was _right there_. Her breathing was hard and every cell in her body seemed frozen in flames; she was burning from within.

"Sam," she sobbed breathlessly as their motions picked up a frantic pace, "_Sam_!"

His cheeks were dark red and he grasped her hips harder. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as they moved and got closer and **so close **and _holy shit_, Mercedes' whole world burst into a shower of stars as her body exploded in a fit of tingles and sensation.

She couldn't have controlled the wrecked cry that left her lips as her hips spasmed and her whole body shook from the force of her orgasm. The sound of Sam's groan had her blushing as her entire body went slack against his.

Sam was completely boneless on the couch and Mercedes couldn't find the strength in her to move. That is until she realized that she practically mauled Sam because of his _uniform_ and then she couldn't throw herself off the couch fast enough.

"Cede?" he asked, unsurely and she wanted to sink into the cushions and never come out. She was such an idiot and childish and _did she really just dry-hump the hell out of Sam?_

Cheeks flaming and her eyes huge, Mercedes couldn't bear to look at Sam after the concerned look that wiped any pleasure from his expression appeared on his face.

She was about to have a fucking anxiety attack—or die of embarrassment. Oh god, what had she done? On the verge of tears, Mercedes stood up from the couch and blushed furiously at the wetness of her underwear. She couldn't tell if she wanted to turn her back to Sam or her front—_what if there was a wet spot? _

She heard Sam stand up from his spot on the couch and his face was bright red too. "Let me go clean up really quick," he said and then he bolted to the bathroom. "Don't go anywhere!" he called through the door and Mercedes squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that the humiliation would just be a really bad dream, but it wasn't if the dampness of her crotch meant anything.

Blushing furiously, she ran into her bedroom and cleaned herself up—tossing the underwear into her laundry bin as though they'd scalded her. She pulled on a new pair of panties and pajama pants. She even threw on a zip up sweatshirt and then she quickly tied her hair into pigtails. Mercedes peered out of the curtains that led into the living area, and scampered over to the coffee table.

She'd just shoved her glasses back onto her face when the bathroom door opened. Sam's face turned scarlet and Mercedes' whole body felt hot with her embarrassment. She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes as she plopped down on the couch and tugged on the fabric of her jacket sleeve.

Sam sat down next to her, his shoulders brushing against hers and for a long moment, Mercedes couldn't find words—she kept remembering everything she'd felt and said and _did _and the self-consciousness made her mute.

Sam's ears were as red as his cheeks, but he seemed to fight through the awkwardness long before Mercedes had. "Okay, so," he said uncomfortably, his blond eyebrows rising as he cleared his throat, "That was—uh, _amazing_—"

Mercedes blushed, but she had to admit that a small ball of pride tightened in her stomach.

"—amazing and unexpected," Sam finished with an awkward glance at Mercedes.

They were silent for a moment and then Sam sighed. "I don't regret this," he said bluntly and her gaze snapped to him. Mercedes was shocked, but she had to admit that Sam looked adorable with his bright red cheeks and sheepish smile. "I loved being with you in that way, but I wish I had stopped it."

"How can you not regret it, but want to have stopped it?" she blurted and Sam's blush darkened, but a determined glint entered his eyes.

"You weren't ready for us to go that far," he replied, "I can tell that now, but things happened so fast that my brain didn't stand a chance."

Truthfully, Mercedes _hadn't _been ready for them to go so far. She admitted as much to Sam and the disappointed look that appeared on his face nearly broke her heart.

"Crap," he said, "I'm so sorry, Mercedes. I let things get out of control—"

"Hey," she piped up, "There were two people involved in this, you know." Her face was burning, but she wouldn't let Sam take the blame for something that both of them did. "It's just as much my fault as it is yours—"

"But I should've known better!" he protested, "Our hormones have been out of control all weekend, Cede and you talked about how nervous you were this_ morning_—"

"Sam," she said quietly, "We both lost our heads tonight. It's both of our responsibility. You've been taking care of these things the whole time we've been—uh—_intimate_, but you're a teenage boy and I don't expect you to be perfect."

Sam's face turned pink, and he looked down at his lap. Mercedes forced herself to take his hand. If she was going to have an adult relationship, then she damn well needed to act like she was an adult.

"What we did isn't that bad," she told him, "It wasn't the right timing, true, but I think we know that we should wait until the right time to do something so _intense_—"

Both of them let out an embarrassed giggle and Sam met her eyes.

"So you're not mad?" he asked and Mercedes shook her head, leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips.

"No," she said, "Are you mad at me for jumping you?"

Sam laughed. "I really don't think it's possible for me to be mad about that."

"I think I'm more embarrassed about the_ sounds _I was making than I am about what happened—"

"I thought you sounded sexy," he replied and Mercedes side-eyed him.

"There's no way that my _gasping_ was sexy," she retorted.

"It was hot," Sam responded, "especially when you whimpered my name—"

"Sam!"

"What?"

"Are we really talking about this?" she asked, incredulously and Sam raised his eyebrows at her.

"Why not?"

"It's _embarrassing_!"

"Well, it'll be less humiliating if we talk about it—"

"No."

"Cede—"

"I think it's time for pizza."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. Which slice do you want?"

"I liked your moaning—"

"Sam!"

"And when you moved your hips in circles against my co—"

"_Boy!"_

Mercedes' flustered countenance seemed to amuse Sam until she thrust a slice of pizza in his hand and he leaned back unexpectedly. She didn't miss the peculiar expression that crossed his face as he sat back up and then wiggled in his seat—his cheeks turning pink.

"What's wrong?" she asked him and Sam's ears turned red. He ate his pizza quietly and Mercedes frowned in concern. "Sam?"

He swallowed his bite of food—his cheeks bright red and mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?" she asked and Sam sighed.

"I said that my pants are uncomfortable."

"Why?" she asked before a thought occurred to her. "You, uh, _cleaned_ up, right?"

Mercedes tried to eyeball the crotch of his pants nonchalantly, but she didn't succeed. She saw enough to know that there wasn't a strange wet spot on his slacks, so they weren't ruined. Sam's face was half-amused and half-sheepish when Mercedes looked back up at him.

"Yeah," he replied, "but I had to make some _adjustments_."

Bemused, Mercedes blinked at her boyfriend and he shot her an exasperated look.

"What does _that_ mean?"

"It means that I'm not wearing any underwear."

With a gasp, her eyes flew back down to his crotch and then she tore her gaze away. The hilarity of the situation made her lips twitch, and her eyes watered with the effort to contain the giggles that wanted to escape her body.

Sam didn't look amused when she faced him again and he pouted while munching on his pizza. The put out expression on his face did her in and Mercedes collapsed onto the couch cushions, laughing.

The whole night was strange and awkward, but it was perfect and she couldn't wait to find out what adventures awaited her and Sam. This time, they would be more careful.

At the end of their time together, Sam walked Mercedes to the front door of the main house and made sure to kiss her softly.

"What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?" Sam asked, and Mercedes remembered what she wanted to talk to him about this morning.

"Oh!" she replied, before she grinned up at him. "Sex and watching videos together."

"You want to watch por—"

"No!" she refuted, "I want to watch _informational_ videos. I know you're not a virgin, but I am and I know practically nothing about it. I just thought it would be a good way to learn together without rushing into things blindly."

Sam's smirk was still too teasing and smug for her to approve of it, but he nodded his agreement.

"Gladly," he said, leaning down to press a brief kiss to her lips, "Night Cede." She stepped out of his embrace and held the door open as he stepped across the threshold.

She was about to return his goodnight when Sam spun on his heel and raised an eyebrow at her.

"For my own peace of mind," he said, "as far as orgasms go was the one I gave you closer to a 1 or a 10—"

"_Goodnight _Sam!" she hissed at him. Mercedes slammed the door on Sam's laughter and she huffed out a disbelieving breath. Her boyfriend was ridiculous—

"I'll take that as a 13!"

"Boy, go home!" she replied. The sound of him laughing made her smile and she finally heard him turn and walk away.

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><p><strong>REVIEW! Until next time! :D<strong>


	36. I Didn't Mean To

**Disclaimer: On first chapter.**

**Author's Note: So, it's been a while. Haha. This chapter is kind of that awkward transition back into a story, because I've had to get reacquainted with the characters. I've made some significant changes to the story line from this point forward, but I like it a lot more. The next chapter will be far more in-depth and we're about to delve into the heart of Newton's Law. We've been in the calm before the storm, but that time has come to an end. I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think about it. :) Happy reading!**

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><p><strong>Tuesday, May 30, 2011<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**5: 32pm**

She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there—immersed in paperwork that never seemed to quit, but she was getting closer and closer to being done with all of the new hire files. She picked up her checklist and mumbled to herself as she read through it all. She'd long since submitted the Opening Night event advertisements to the newspapers and local websites—her local news station interview was scheduled for Friday morning and the radio stations have been blasting the adverts for days now.

She had to get everyone on payroll and finalize the menu for the website, which was almost done. Her training schedule for next week was still in shambles. She had like four different companies coming in on Thursday to finish polishing floors, update the piping, furniture deliveries, and her new Chefs would be setting up the kitchens.

Lynn didn't even want to think about the process it would be to get the kitchen fully stocked and the small decorations that she'd only recently ordered. The stage still had to be built and installed, and she knew that the Glee club was working on a full night of entertainment for her guests, but they needed at least two days to rehearse in the physical space.

She felt like crying, because there was no way that she'd be able to do all of this on her own. Jeff was still in the process of constructing the design for the signs and they needed to replace the windows on the front of the store. Plus, he had to deal with the whole Elizabeth situation and that was just going to stress her out even more if she went down that road.

With a deep sigh, Lynn dropped her checklist onto the desk and folded her arms together before resting her throbbing forehead onto her forearms. In what only felt like seconds later, Lynn felt a pair of strong hands press softly on her shoulders. She blinked rapidly as she came out of her unplanned slumber and let out a soft breath when Jeff started kneading her tense shoulders.

"Have a nice nap, sweetheart?" he asked—his voice was teasing, but she could detect the hint of concern that lingered.

Lynn gave a hum of appreciation as he massaged from her shoulders, down the line of her spine and then back up to the back of her neck. "How long was I out for?" she asked, voice a little sleep-rough.

"I came to see if you wanted something to drink around two, and it's a little past five now," he replied. He was startled when Lynn sat bolt right in her chair.

"Stacey!" she squeaked, horrified because she was supposed to pick up the little girl from practice at three o'clock. Oh holy god, she'd forgotten a child. What if she thought she'd abandoned her like Elizabeth did? What if Stacey had been kidnapped or—

"Lynnette calm down!" Jeff said loudly—he had to talk over Lynn, who was on the verge of having a heart attack. "I picked up Stacey from dance. She's fine."

It took a moment for his words to register, but when they did, Lynn felt exhausted all over again as her adrenaline came crashing down. "Thank the lord," she breathed, "Are partial heart attacks a thing?"

Jeff laughed, but she felt him rub the back of her neck in soothing circles. Lynn relaxed into the touch—it had been far too long since a man had touched her in such a way.

"How's it going in here?" he asked, "You're not one to take spontaneous naps."

Lynn groaned her dismay. "I don't know if this is going to work, Jeff," she told him, "There's so much work to get done that—"

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. Loud laughter spilled into the room—it was distant, but Lynn knew the way her niece sounded when she was laughing and that sound was all Mercedes.

"Cede!" Sam's protest made Lynn smile fondly. "You're not supposed to _laugh_." He sounded put-out about whatever it was that had Mercedes in hysterics, but his statement only seemed to make her laugh harder.

Lynn looked up at Jeff as he chuckled under his breath. The sounds of rambunctious teenagers got louder as the two stampeded past the door. Lynn caught a flash of dark skin and another flash of blond hair as Sam and Mercedes walked towards the kitchen.

She shook her head as she listened to the two bicker.

"It was funny," Mercedes told him—still breathless from her giggling. "I just—"

There was a choked off sound that let Lynn know that whatever had happened was still too amusing not to react.

"You're a terrible girlfriend," Sam replied—and Lynn didn't need to see his face to know that he was pouting. Jeff laughed before turning his attention back to her.

"What do you need help with?" he asked.

"Everything," she admitted—tuning out the murmuring voices coming from the kitchen. "I need someone else at the store with me. I would ask Mercedes but she's got her own job now and with choir and the rehearsals, she won't have time."

"How about this—"Jeff began as he reached over her and started closing files. Lynn sat up, startled.

"Jeff, what?" she asked as he scooped everything up and stacked it all together.

"—you are going to take the rest of the evening off and get a game plan together. We'll ask Mercedes and Sam if they have any friends in need of a summer job, and we'll go from there."

Lynn wasn't particularly happy, but it did make sense. "Why can't I work for the rest of the night?"

"Maybe because you're exhausted and so stressed out that you're going to get nowhere," he replied. Lynn gave him a petulant look which made him grin. Her heart skipped a beat in there somewhere, and she admittedly held her breath when he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Let's go make some dinner," he said, "and figure out what Mercedes was laughing at Sam for, so I can laugh at him too."

Lynn snorted as he hauled her out of the desk chair. She flicked off the desk lamp, but allowed Jeff to lead her from the office by the hand.

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><p><strong>Tuesday, May 30, 2011<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**8:15pm**

"You were _never_ supposed to tell my dad about my twerk fail," Sam was indignant and Mercedes couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face.

"It's not my fault that you were told to stick to body rolls," she replied in amusement. Sam shot her a disgruntled look and she let out a huff of laughter. Mercedes carried the stack of plates into the kitchen—Sam trailing sulkily behind her.

"You can _still_ hear him laughing," Sam grumbled and Mercedes bit her lip to contain the giggles that wanted to escape. Jeff was still chortling in the dining room. She could hear Lynn trying to shush him while they wiped down the table.

Mercedes placed the stack of dishes on the counter and started scraping excess food into the trashcans. Sam poured leftover drinks down the drain and then he started a dish bath with warm water and soap.

Sam looked a bit embarrassed, but he definitely wasn't as upset about it as he pretended to be. Mercedes scraped the last bit of food off the plates and then she stuck them on one side of the sink. Sam started washing the dishes in earnest. Mercedes took to his other side, so she could stick the rinsed dishes into the dishwasher.

They worked in tandem—neither one feeling the need to break the easy silence. When all of the dishes were put into the washer, Mercedes put in the soap and then turned it on while Sam dried his hands and wiped down the counter.

She looked up at him. "You mad at me, Blondie?" she asked and he eyed her for a moment. He folded the hand towel and then turned to face her.

"No," he admitted finally, "I'm not mad." Mercedes met his pretty green eyes and enjoyed the soft look he was giving her. It still baffled her sometimes that Sam was attracted to her, but she was incredibly happy about it.

"Good," she told him, before she pulled him into a kiss by the front of his shirt. They kept the kiss light—a soft meeting of the lips that was meant to reassure, comfort, and provide a simple pleasure for both of them. The fact that her aunt and his dad were in the other room might have been a factor too.

Sam pulled away, but he pressed a kiss to her hairline. Mercedes leaned into his chest, before footsteps broke their spell and they stepped away from each other.

Auntie Lynn walked into the kitchen first, but Jeff was right behind her. He cracked a grin at his son and Sam's ears turned red. Mercedes found it adorable. Lynn put the tuberware containers into the fridge while Jeff leaned forward and whispered, "We need to go to the store to pick up some presents for the twins."

Mercedes was amused by the way Jeff's eyes kept flickering to the open doorway. As though the twins would magically sense that he was talking about them and presents in the same sentence.

"Would you be able to watch them for a little while if Lynn and I sneak out for some "grocery shopping"?"

Sam was giving his father his best "are you serious, right now?" face and Mercedes was trying not to choke on her own laughter.

"Dad, they go to bed at 9:15," Sam replied—he sounded long-suffering. "That's like forty minutes from now. I think I can handle making the twins get ready for bed."

"Well, you know—your girlfriend is here, I didn't want to make you have to split your attention." Jeff's sarcasm was practically tangible. Sam's cheeks turned bright red and Mercedes laughed aloud.

"Don't worry, Mr. Evans—I mean, Jeff," she corrected herself quickly when she saw him open his mouth, "I can't stay for too long. I've got work in the morning and Sam's got basketball practice."

"Alright then," Jeff replied—before he lowered his voice, "Lynn we should head out soon."

She had just put the last container in the fridge. Lynn turned around and nodded at him. Jeff looked at Sam and then Mercedes and she cringed internally.

"Now, I'm trusting you—"Jeff began, but he was quickly interrupted by Sam who realized what was about to happen.

"Dad, it's like _forty_ minutes!"

"Sam, I'm your father—"

"This is so not necessary. I can't believe—"

"You're seventeen, almost eighteen. I know what kind of temptations come along with having a pretty girl alone in a house—"

"Dad, _seriously_? We've only been dating for a few weeks. I think you can hold off on the sex talk for a little bit longer."

Mercedes' mind flashed back to what had happened in her pool house and she felt her whole face turn bright red. Sam's ears were crimson and he couldn't look at his father directly. Jeff stared between the two of them. Mercedes kept her eyeballs firmly on the floor, but she could practically feel his eyes assessing her.

"Fine," he relented, "but we're talking about this later. No funny business."

"Yeah, okay," Sam responded.

"I'm going to go say goodnight to the kids. We'll be back before midnight."

Jeff and Lynn exited the kitchen. Sam looked like he wanted to dive headfirst into oblivion and Mercedes felt overly warm.

"Well that was humiliating," Sam blurted and Mercedes laughed in agreement. She covered her face with her hands in an attempt to soothe the embarrassment of that moment. It didn't help when Jeff and Lynn left the house in a hurry—Lynn yelling for Mercedes to, "Resist the force!"

Sam turned around and plonked his head on the counter. Mercedes let out an embarrassed giggle. Her aunt was ridiculous.

The two of them stood there for a long moment, before Sam righted himself and yelled, "Stacey! Stevie! Shower, teeth and PJs!"

There were two affirmative responses from the twins and then a chorus of little feet running upstairs. One set continued down the hall, but Mercedes heard it when one of the twins came back down the stairs.

"Sam! Can I take a bath instead?" Stacey called back.

"Yeah, sure," Sam replied.

Stacey practically galloped back upstairs and to the bathroom. Sam shook his head in amusement. Mercedes allowed him to grab her hand and then escort her from the kitchen, flipping off the lights on their way out.

He walked her over to the living room—their fingers entwined. "Wanna watch a movie for a little while?" he asked. Mercedes watched the play of his muscles underneath his shirt and decided that she'd be bad for a few moments.

She tugged on Sam's fingers and he turned around—a quizzical expression on his face. She didn't give him time to say anything, before she pulled him into a hard kiss. Sam responded with surprise at first, and then with affection.

He pulled her close and opened his mouth to her. They traded intense kisses for a while, before Sam lightened things and pulled back. "I thought we were going slowly," he said.

"We are," Mercedes replied, "We won't take anything off or cause any—uh, orgasms, but kissing is fine. Kissing is _really_ good, actually."

Sam hummed in acknowledgement, before he stepped away. Mercedes let out a noise of complaint that had Sam grinning. He kissed her quickly, before he turned to the movie collection at the base of Lynn's entertainment system.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Giving us a cover story," Sam replied. He dug around until he found the Star Trek DVD and he took a few moments to get it started on the screen. Mercedes watched him as he stood up slowly and turned around to face her.

She let out a soft exhale when he pulled her into his chest with one sharp motion. "Now, where were we?"

Mercedes' gaze went to his lips before they went back up to his eyes. She leaned forward and kissed him without saying another word.

Mercedes wasn't sure how she ended up in the position she was in, but hell if she was going to complain. Sam's hands were on her waist, but her shirt kept slipping upwards and each time she felt the heat of his palms against her skin she felt like she'd lost her breath.

Her hands were twisted in the silky blond strands at the back of his head. His lips meshed with hers and she felt his teeth nip at her bottom lip. It drove her crazy when he did that, and she was pretty sure that asshole knew exactly what he was doing.

They kissed hard and fast. She could feel each swipe of his tongue in the hardening of her nipples and the way her center grew heavier with each passing second. Who knew that kissing would be so addicting?

It had been difficult to watch Sam learn choreography. Their set was organized so that everyone got a fair chance at singing lead in either a solo or a duet. They had two girls' numbers, two boys' numbers and three whole group performances. Rachel and Finn were going to be singing a duet. Quinn and Tina were doing a number and Sam and Mercedes had been chosen to do a duet together.

Sam may not be the best dancer, and he was freaking adorable trying to do the hip twists that Mike put in their routine, but her boyfriend was sexy as hell. He'd been wearing gray sweatpants and a black Nike shirt that clung to him like a second skin.

His muscles were moving and she could see it all through his shirt. It got to the point where Mercedes had to step outside and chug water to get herself under control. She was a teenage girl, so of course, she'd been horny before, but just looking at Sam did things to her body without him even _trying_.

And try as she might, she hadn't been able to get their little _activity_ out of her mind since it happened. She wanted to keep a lid on how heated they were getting, because while Sam was sexually experienced, Mercedes knew she wasn't ready yet.

But holy god, the way Sam was kissing her was making her rational thought fly out of the window.

Mercedes let out a soft moan when Sam trailed kisses from her lips and down to her sternum. Her eyes rolled when he scraped his teeth gently against her collarbone. She tightened her fingers in his hair, unwilling to let him move away from a spot that she didn't even realize was that sensitive.

Mercedes let her legs fall open and Sam's hips slipped in the open space. They both gasped when Sam's hardness rested flush against her and there may have been some involuntary hip thrusting, but Sam managed to pull away before things went any further.

Mercedes made grabby hands at him as he crawled to the other side of the couch, but she regained her senses a moment or two later.

"You are trying to kill me," Sam said—before he pulled a pillow cushion over his face and held it there. Mercedes laid on her side of the couch and tried to regain her breath. Her heart thudded in her chest when she caught sight of the tenting of Sam's sweatpants.

Her whole face got extremely warm, and she'd never admit it but there was a pleased smile twitching at her lips. It was nice to know that she could do that to Sam—that he found her hard to resist and that he wanted her sexually.

"_Me?"_ she asked, breathless. "You are never allowed to wear that shirt ever again."

Sam peered at her from under the pillow and he smirked. "Would you like me to take it off?"

"I think it'd be best if you kept your clothes on, Blondie," she replied, "I'm having enough problems as it is."

"Good to know," he said, before he dropped the pillow back on his face. They stayed in their separate corners until Mercedes could contain her hormones.

"Should we watch the movie?"

Sam sat up and Mercedes had to swallow twice, because Sam looked _wrecked._ His lips were red and kiss swollen. His hair was a mussed mess—_her fingers had done that_.

She stared at him, because she'd done good—damn good.

Mercedes came back to herself when she noticed the amused smirk on Sam's face. "Proud of yourself, Cede?"

She blushed which made him laugh as he scooted towards her on the couch. He smiled in her direction as he settled about a cushion away from her and then he held open his arms. "I don't think we have time to watch the movie before the kiddos come downstairs, but we can cuddle for a little while."

She willingly crawled into his embrace—burying her face into his chest as he wrapped her up in his arms. They sat there for about fifteen minutes—Mercedes sprawled across Sam's chest. They traded lazy kisses and spent their time talking about their day.

Their time together came to an end when Stacey walked into the living room dressed in a pair of pink pajamas—her damp blonde hair hanging against her shoulders. Mercedes laughed when Stacey jumped on top of them yelling, "Cuddle pile!"

The seven year old managed to wiggle her way onto Sam's other side—her face resting on her brother's shoulder and her back to the couch cushion. Sam shook his head in amusement, but he kissed the top of his sister's head and wrapped an arm around her.

Mercedes smiled when Sam squeezed her hip with his other hand.

"Whatcha doin'?" Stacey asked as she flitted her eyes between Sam and Mercedes.

"We were watching a movie," Mercedes responded, "but then we started cuddling and that was more fun."

"I like cuddles, too," Stacey said, "It's fun when daddy lets me sit on his lap and he reads me stories. It's nice when you have bad dreams, too."

Mercedes' heart melted in her chest. Those blue eyes were going to be killer when Stacey got older. "Definitely," Mercedes replied, "Sam's a good cuddler."

"He's okay," Stacey said, "but my daddy's better. Sam doesn't have the whiskers that daddy does. He rubs them against my cheek and tells me that it'll keep me safe from monsters."

Sam laughed and Mercedes felt the rumble echo through his chest. Something in her chest tightened because this moment was something she'd always wanted—easy, warm, and content.

"He used to do that to me too when I was younger," Sam admitted, "He called himself the Wizard of Whiskers."

Stacey giggled. Mercedes snorted, because that was cute as hell. She was pretty sure that everything nerdy about Sam had come straight from his father. Sam smiled down at her and she gave him a grin in return.

The moment was broken when the sound of Stevie descending the stairs caught their attention. She shifted so she could look at the small boy over her shoulder, and Mercedes could've sworn that she saw him frown. He didn't look like his normally enthusiastic self, but maybe he was just tired.

Mercedes turned her gaze from Stevie and back to Sam, who was staring at his little brother too. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly and he looked a bit confused when he met her gaze. Maybe she wasn't imagining things.

"I think it's time for some munchkins to get to bed," Sam said, before he tapped Mercedes lightly on the back. She understood his unspoken request and swiveled until her feet hit the hardwood flooring. Mercedes sat up on the couch, and Sam followed her—Stacey simply shifted until she sat on her brother's lap.

Sam scooted off the couch and stood with Stacey in his embrace—a forearm under her bottom and her little arms wrapped around his neck.

"Do you want to stay for a little while after I get these two settled?" Sam asked her, and Mercedes looked at the clock on the wall. She was about to say yes until she saw the downcast look on Stevie's face and decided that Sam's time might be better spent with someone else.

Mercedes shook her head in response. "Not tonight," she said, "I have an early day tomorrow, so I should head out."

Sam blinked at her, and Mercedes nodded imperceptibly in Stevie's direction. A look of understanding crossed his features and he gave her a grateful look. Mercedes' heart skipped a beat when he directed that lopsided smile at her.

She stepped forward and kissed Stacey's cheek. The little girl gave her a sleepy smile from where she was resting against Sam's shoulder.

"Bye Mercy," she mumbled and Mercedes laughed softly.

"Bye sweetheart."

Mercedes swept Stevie up into a hug—one that the little boy returned tightly, before he moved to his brother's side. He didn't say anything, which was also unusual, but Mercedes paid no mind. She just hoped that he felt better.

She looked at Sam and he grinned at her. Mercedes rolled her eyes in fond amusement, before she pressed a lightning fast kiss to his lips. Sam didn't look satisfied but that's all he was getting when his younger siblings were in the room.

"See you at rehearsal?"

"You know it," Sam replied, "Bye Cede."

"Bye Sam."

Mercedes grabbed her sweater and bag from the foyer. She left Sam standing there—his siblings attached to him in some way. She waved goodbye from the door and blew Sam a kiss before she walked outside.

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><p><strong>Tuesday, May 30, 2011<strong>

**Lynn's House**

**9:11pm**

Stacey was out like a light before Sam had even fully tucked her into bed. With dance, soccer practice, and theatre rehearsal—the little girl must have been exhausted. He brushed her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

"Love you, Sunshine," he whispered before he placed a brotherly kiss on her temple.

"Love you, Sammy," she replied—half asleep and slurred. Sam stared at her for a second, because this girl meant the world to him. He loved his siblings so much. He made sure to tuck her stuffed monkey under her arm and pulled the covers over her shoulders just like she liked it.

Sam turned on her nightlight. He checked to make sure that her window was locked before he pulled the curtains closed. He tip toed out of her room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

He made his way down the hall and then checked in on Stevie. He slipped inside the room and checked the locks on the window before he pulled the curtains closed. He was about to leave the room when he realized that Stevie's wide blue eyes were staring at him from his bed.

Sam almost had a heart attack, because he wasn't expecting that. He tripped over a toy and almost face planted on the floor. He was embarrassed, but Stevie's laugh made it worth it.

"I thought you were asleep, Superman," Sam said as he righted himself and then trekked over to the bed. Stevie just nodded—his eyes were droopy and tired, but something seemed to be bothering him. "You alright?"

Stevie opened his mouth to say something, but then he stopped. Sam's brow furrowed in concern when his little brother wouldn't meet his eyes, but Sam knew Stevie well enough to know that pushing him was going to make him shut down. He sat down on the side of Stevie's bed.

So, Sam waited him out. It didn't take too long.

"Our birthday's on Friday," Stevie said—his voice hesitant and unsure and Sam wished like hell that he knew what was going on.

"I know, buddy," Sam replied, "You're going to be eight! You're getting old on me."

Stevie didn't smile and Sam's heart dropped.

"What's wrong, Stevie?"

The little boy's eyes watered and he burrowed down into his blankets. "Do you—"Stevie started, but his voice cracked and Sam's heart was in his throat. "Do you think mom will come back?"

And holy god, he hadn't even thought about it. He'd been so consumed in his own life and Mercedes and moving forward that he forgot how traumatized his little brother and sister must be. How could he even begin to answer that question?

Sam sat in a stunned stupor—trying and failing to form words and he apparently waited too long, because Stevie's lip trembled and he burst out, "I'm sorry. It's my fault that mama left."

Sam's little peaceful bubble of reality shattered into pieces and he forgot how to speak. He was so choked by his own emotions that he doubted that anything he said would be comprehensible anyway.

"Stevie, no. It's not your fault—"

"But it is my fault, Sam!" Stevie was full out crying now, his blue eyes pained and accusing. "I asked her to buy me a new book because I'd read all the other ones and then she left! I'm sorry—"

"Stevie, _stop_—"

"I'm sorry, Sam," Stevie sobbed with his whole body and Sam tried to speak over him. "I didn't mean to! _I'm sorry._ Please don't hate me!"

Sam stopped trying to get his baby brother to listen to him, because the seven-year old's chest was heaving erratically and his whole body was bowing inward—like he wanted to crawl inside of himself and never come out again. He ripped the covers off of his brother and tried to pull him into his lap.

Stevie fought him—tooth and nail. He kept apologizing over and over again and it literally tore Sam apart to hear how much guilt he'd been carrying with him and _no one_ had noticed it—_he hadn't noticed._

"I didn't mean to," Stevie's pain came out in a river of tears against Sam's chest and Sam held him tighter as his brother clung to him. "_I'm sorry."_

Sam's chest burned as he clutched his little brother. He blinked away his own tears, but some of them slid into Stevie's baby soft locks anyway. He pressed kiss after kiss onto Stevie's head—just saying over and over that it wasn't his fault and that he loves him.

How had he never noticed anything? Had he really been so absorbed in his own world that he'd ignored his own brother? Stevie internalized things. Stacey broke down when she knew she had to, but Stevie waited until his emotions refused to be held back anymore.

Sam was crying as he pulled back. He made Stevie look at him. Those blue eyes—usually so full of wonder, innocence and sarcasm—were wounded. Something about Stevie had been broken irreparably and Sam hated his mother for doing it. She'd ruined something soul-deep in his little brother and Stevie thought that it was _his_ fault.

"_None_ of this was your fault, Stevie," Sam told him—his voice was practically a croak and Stevie's face scrunched up. Sam knew that he didn't believe him. "_None of it was your fault_. Mom made her choice to leave long before you asked her a question that every child has the right to ask their parents. This isn't your fault."

Stevie still looked skeptical, but he buried his face in his brother's shoulder and clung to him. "You don't hate me?"

The vulnerability in Stevie's voice hurt Sam. He responded by pressing a kiss to the side of Stevie's head. "Never," he said, "I could never hate you. I love you, kid. So much."

Stevie didn't say anything else beyond digging his small fingers into Sam's chest. Sam held him there until the kid passed out—either from physical or emotional exhaustion. Sam kicked off his shoes and then slid both him and Stevie under the covers.

Sam cradled his brother close—unwilling to let him go and think for one second that Sam didn't want to be right where he was.

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><p><strong>Please review! I love hearing your thoughts! <strong>


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Glee, Family, Romance