A/N: Hi, guys!
*what to say, what to say*
Okay, here goes. So this story is the result of a prompt I got from my Tumblr homey erchills. (She writes Samcedes stories, just like I do…they're full of fluff, and good times, and hilarious conversations and sometimes I wonder if maybe she's as cray-cray as me- go check them out and leave my girl a review). And anyway, she asked me for a Jesse St. James/Mercedes Jones romantic story. Now, at first, I was honestly concerned for her sanity. I mean…who don't know I'm all about Samcedes? And in those instances where I embrace the harem and pair Mercedes up with another dude, its always one of the NDs. I had no idea how to frame the story, and honestly…no desire to search my soul for a place where I could ever like Jesse.
But erchills is my girl for a reason. She gets it…understands that fanfic writing is all about possibilities. So I got sick with a summer flu, slept a lot and felt like crap; and when I recovered I started brainstorming my ass off. And I have to say, some elements of this story have me completely spellbound. I liked playing around in third person narrative, I liked trying to figure out how Jesse would say things, I liked coming up with possible scenarios for possible common ground. So I guess this story is now my new baby.
Don't worry, though…Chapter 13 of WIW is about three days away from being published. I have written my Mikecedes chapter of PN out by hand, and only need to get it typed, and I'm also working on a prompt for ZeeJack that ought to make everybody's hair sweat.
This story is gonna be 2 chapters long… and I don't have any intention of continuing it. But I also never say never. I hope you guys like it, and would appreciate a little review love if you do.
Thank you Anni! You know Jesse is messy as hell! I had to make 'em bond over shade!
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the characters of Glee.
You Just Never Know
January 3, 2013. Los Angeles, CA
Mercedes Jones arrived outside the door to her LA apartment, disengaged her burglar alarm, and entered her home for the first time in days. Dragging the luggage she'd just hauled halfway across the country, she simultaneously slipped out of the low heeled ankle boots she wore and closed the door. After shoving her bags out of sight and out of mind inside a nearby closet, Mercedes finally shrugged out of the fluffy red sweater and turtleneck she'd worn from Ohio and breathed a sight of relief. The ensemble, which had provided the young woman with an abundance of stylish warmth as she roamed the icy streets of Lima, was now cumbersome and awkward in balmy 77degree Los Angeles. She hung the sweater, then continued to remove sweltering layers from her exhausted frame. Once she was comfortable, the young woman spent a few minutes refamiliarizing herself with the place she'd called home for the last six months.
Mercedes reengaged her alarm system, passed through the foyer, and stopped in the middle of her tastefully appointed living room. She smiled at the tan leather sectional sofa and lounger, a belated graduation gift from her parents. Then she lightly fingered the dying petals from the bunch of red poppies that rested in her favorite vase. These flowers, which Mercedes usually replaced every week, complimented the tan and cherry red throw rug on the floor… The young woman gave them a sniff, grimaced, and turned to throw the dead blooms away. Finally Mercedes used the cable remote control to turn the television on to the R&B music channel for background noise and silently declared herself satisfied with this particular room.
Next, Mercedes crossed over into the eat-in kitchen…where she was immediately reminded of the hurry she'd been in, during her haste to arrive at the airport on time nine days earlier. Humming along with the television to the tune of Kelly Rowland's Kisses Down Low, she gathered the Pop Tart wrapper and coffee cup she'd left there and discarded them before repairing into the hallway.
As she passed the room where Noah Puckerman had once slept, Mercedes felt her first pangs of disappointment with her grown-up surroundings. Up until several days ago, Puck had been her roommate…They'd lived together and shared expenses on the expensive lakefront property. While Noah and Mercedes had a complicated history that included a short-lived romantic interlude and a fair amount of playful acrimony, the two friends were very well suited to living together after high school was over. Mercedes' parents had come up with a way of making sure that their daughter was taken care of while so far away, and at the same time allowed her some much needed independence. Dr. and Mrs. Jones paid roughly half the rent on the condo, which allowed a struggling Noah to live in a safe and clean environment while getting his fledgling pool-cleaning business off the ground. In exchange, he provided his high school friend with the kind of protection that a single girl in the city rarely has the opportunity to boast about. The best part of the arrangement was that the two friends had the luxury of learning the ins and outs of LA life as a team, while reminding each other daily of home.
Mercedes walked into the room and stroked the wood of the dresser that stood by the door. She opened the top drawer and viewed the contents, letting out a deep sigh. Then she walked over to the still un-made but fully sheeted bed and flopped down onto it. The room represented one more thing she would have to do.
How in the hell was it possible that Noah Puckerman, Mercedes pondered, badass of McKinley High School and the supreme derider of all things "Lima Loser," could end up back in Lima? Not that Lima, OH was a bad place to live, Mercedes allowed. But Puck had spent the last two months of high school before graduation trying to convince his friends to move with him to Los Angeles. He'd practically made a religion of coaxing his Glee-mates into coming along and sharing living expenses. How was it possible that the same guy so gung-ho on the West Coast now preferred the comfort of his high school bed? When did living at home and getting to know his little brother while working on a screenplay become more important to Puck than becoming a famous pool cleaner to the stars? And why was it all of a sudden so vital for him to engage with the aforementioned "Lima Losers," that he couldn't even be bothered to come and pick up his things? The worst part was…Mercedes suspected that Puck wanted HER to pack his things up and ship them back to him.
Baffled and frustrated, Mercedes raised an arm to her damp forehead and pondered her situation. Part of the reason, she knew, for Puck's departure was economic. He'd quite frankly made more money doing construction on film sets and scamming tourists than cleaning pools since he'd been in California. And under any other circumstances, running back to Lima, tail between legs, would have made a lot of sense. But in this particular case, Puck had options. The girl knew that her family would have been more than happy to subsidize her roommate for a short time, at the very least while he gained a bigger toehold on his finances. It would have been worth the money in the eyes of her parents, to keep the boy in the same as apartment as their daughter.
"Hell, I would have paid his half myself," Mercedes muttered to herself as she sat up and left Puck's domain so she could finally enter her own room.
Mercedes took one look at her own personal space and momentarily felt better; she welled up in pride while taking in all the changes she'd made over the last several months. When she'd arrived the room was as bare as Mother Hubbard's cupboard, with the exception of the clothes hanging in the closet. Her parents, who'd been so very willing to furnish her den and pay most of her living expenses, had surprisingly flat out refused to let Mercedes bring the furniture from her bedroom back home. If they let her do that, they had asked, where would Mercedes sleep when she visited home? She had little choice but to concede that particular point. So Mercedes and her parents discussed all of her options extensively before she left Ohio. Her parents were fine with allowing Mercedes to purchase a bedroom set on the emergency credit card they'd given her, however the list of stores they deemed suitable did not work for their stylish daughter. So they compromised and purchased her a chaise lounge she'd loved from their favorite leather store, along with bedding, a rug, and window dressings. Their daughter had stubbornly declared she was fine sleeping on that.
Mercedes had no room in her life or in her first adult home for anything purchased in stores with words like "2 Go" in the title; nor was she the type of person to find anything attractive about pieces everyone else in the world could also buy. She preferred one-of-a-kind things, items that said something about her specifically. And she was willing to sacrifice the paycheck she received for her work at an independent record label to get them. She'd lovingly combed antique shops, thrift stores, estate sales, and Craigs List over the past several months and eventually found a bed frame, a chest of drawers, two night stands, and a table and desk chair that she loved. Puck had come mightily in handy towards obtaining the mattress and box spring "at cost," as he had an "acquaintance" who often found deals of that nature. And a dozen or so of her new LA friends had all chipped in to help her paint the walls a gorgeous mauve color. Now that the six months of searching was over and her room had come together, Mercedes was happy she'd stuck to her guns. It finally felt like home.
The young woman flopped down once again, this time on her own oak four poster king size bed with full canopy, so she could think more about her roommate situation. Part of Mercedes frustration, she could admit, had nothing to do with the inconvenience of having to deal with her former housemate's belongings. Like her parents, she secretly loved the idea of having a strong man around to take care of her when she needed to be taken care of. It wasn't so much that the girl fancied herself a damsel in need of a prince, but it couldn't be denied that having a man around was nice. Puck took out the garbage religiously, volunteered to do all picture hanging and light maintenance, he killed any spiders that found their way into the shower, and took a lot of pride being responsible for putting Mercedes' massive bed together. Mercedes had never cohabited with a man before, but she definitely enjoyed certain aspects of the arrangement. But more than all of that, the girl had gotten used to having a familiar presence around. Mercedes felt like she'd brought a piece of home with her to LA, and knowing Puck would be around at night made even the suckiest days much better. However, like any resilient soul stuck in an unfortunate set of circumstances, Mercedes quickly made up her mind to quit wallowing and make the most of the hand she'd been dealt.
All of a sudden, Mercedes sat up and realized for the first time that some of her discomfort wasn't related to her former roommate at all. She was hungry…There was little to no food in the refrigerator, and she wasn't looking forward to her first solo trip to the grocery store. The young diva knew that once there, she'd more than likely purchase a week's supply of "soup for one" and Hungry Man dinners, and the thought alone was pathetic. Mercedes had always been a woman who enjoyed food, but her favorite types of dishes tended to be prepackaged and processed dishes that required little in the way of actual preparation. Puck had been the one who insisted the two of them purchase fresh ingredients; he was adamant that they'd save money chopping, slicing, and grating their own food as opposed to simply heating something frozen and supplementing it with pudding or yogurt. Puck informed Mercedes early on that the best food was food they prepared themselves, and told her point blank that she wouldn't be indulging her pre-school eating habits for as long as they lived together. It was the first compromise the two had made as partners.
Well now, Mercedes no longer had any reason to compromise. She knew what her shopping list would consist of whenever she did bite the bullet and go buy food, and she wanted to prolong the humiliation for as long as she could. So she made up her mind to spare a few dollars –after all, how else was she supposed to spend her Christmas gift money— on a nice meal for one in the restaurant of her own choosing. She got up, washed her face and hands, then changed into something more appropriate for LA weather. Then Mercedes left her apartment in search of her first dinner alone.
January 3, 2013. Los Angeles, CA
Jesse St. James got out of the yellow cab just outside his new place of residence in downtown LA. He clutched the handle of a rolling suitcase filled with interview and work appropriate clothing, a duffel bag stuffed tight with underwear and workout gear, a laptop bag filled with his computer and random office supplies, and a bottle of water. He dragged his cumbersome load up the staircase of the building, buzzed the super, and waited to be let inside. After he was admitted, Jesse searched for apartment 1A, and knocked on the door belonging to the manager of the property. Twenty-five minutes later, Jesse juggled his packages long enough to use his new key on the door to his home for the next three months.
This actually was not the first time St. James had counted himself among the legion of people who call Los Angeles home. He'd briefly inhabited the city as a college freshman two years prior, and took up residence in a UCLA dormitory. However, the young man had not exactly distinguished himself as a model student, and subsequently dropped out of higher learning. When that happened, he'd been forced to find a new place to live so that an actual student could move into his room…and what he learned about the living conditions of some LA "locals" had sent the man reeling.
His home on campus had been more than decent; clean, comfortable, furnished, and completely free of charge…courtesy of the full scholarship he'd been awarded by the school. He'd loved the neighborhood, and enjoyed taking in the nightlife and local tourist attractions. Jesse had spent a lot of time walking around the shops of the Beverly Center when he should have been in class or completing schoolwork. He'd found several random places to drink coffee and people-watch. And he often spent afternoons taking pictures with unsuspecting tourists who assumed he was famous because he told him he was. But when his lack of academic standing caused Jesse to lose said scholarship, he'd been forced to take the monthly "allowance" he got from his parents and use it to make arrangements to live elsewhere. At the time, he'd been convinced that a young, good looking and crafty young man could find something decent in his price range. However he soon realized that his "allowance" didn't allow for very much.
The West Hollywood apartment he'd moved into back then had been old, musty, and in bad repair. He'd definitely made a real attempt at living with the mice, the loud neighbors, and the increased travel expenditure (since he had no intention of giving up his weekly trips to the Hammer Museum of Art and LA National Cemetery, and they were no longer within walking distance) for as long as he could stand them. Then an unfortunate run-in with a neighborhood rough bearing a gun and demanding his rent money had left Jesse with no choice but to turn tail and go back to Ohio; just in time to squire Rachel Berry to her Junior Prom.
Now, in January of 2013, Jesse was back. His new apartment, while still a far cry from the opulence and luxury of the dormitory, was situated on the outskirts of the same Westwood neighborhood he'd once enjoyed so much. His place was small, and would remain unfurnished until he could afford to put anything in it. But Jesse could admit that he found his new surroundings infinitely better than the hovel he'd once inhabited. Jesse placed his water bottle in the empty refrigerator, crossed over to the den, and sat down on a corner of the carpeted floor to think over his new life plan.
St. James had spent the previous two years in Ohio plotting and planning his triumphant return to bright and sunny California. He'd scraped a living as both show choir consultant and music director for his former high school and hoarded his paychecks while allowing his parents to support him completely. As a result of his miserly behavior, the young man had close to twenty thousand dollars collecting interest in the bank. He knew he'd be required to spend some on room and board, and the classes necessary to continue honing his craft…especially since his parents had refused to continue supporting him once he left for Los Angeles this time around. But he'd already found a job, and knew he could live for a year relatively comfortably if he managed his money responsibly.
Jesse St. James was lot of things, both good and bad. His most defining quality was definitely his ability to be unabashedly confident; to the point of extreme cockiness. Even his shameful LA exit all those months ago did very little to shatter his overblown sense of self worth. So he felt very well-placed to live his life in California on his own terms while striving to reach the stardom he craved.
Jesse had enrolled in classes for dance, voice, and acting. He'd already touched bases with contacts he made during his brief time as a student in the school of Arts, and he'd compiled a coffee house open mike night and talent showcase schedule that bordered on way too much; all in the interest of garnering his "big break" as soon as humanly possible. Work, Jesse supposed, would more than likely cause him no inconvenience. Yes, his new job in the call center of a local utility company was full time position. But Jesse was confident in his ability to dictate the actions of others. Somewhere in his new place of employment was a woman in a position of power, Jesse reasoned. If he managed to befriend that woman and render her powerless over his charm, there was good chance he could collect a paycheck for doing very little; leaving him plenty of time to work towards his real goal. At the very least, there would definitely be an unsuspecting, probably untalented and unattractive lonely female in the pool, one that would be happy to complete work in his name...
"Hell," he said out loud in the empty apartment. "A gay guy will do in a pinch."
Jesse lay down and closed his eyes, ruminating on the new life he'd build this time around. He'd hone his craft, make the right friends, and eventually be a major triple threat. He'd turn his singing, dancing and acting into a successful stage career. Then he'd crossover into television appearances and cameos in amazing block buster films. Eventually, Hollywood big names would fight for the opportunity to produce and direct a Jesse St. James vehicle. Then, he'd return to Ohio in a blaze of glory. He was going to be the brightest of stars, and Jesse couldn't wait to start!
"What's a few years of Ramen overload compared to a lifetime of fame and fortune?" he pondered.
The mere mention of noodles made Jesse's stomach rumble uncomfortably, and he sat up and tried to remember his most recent meal. After several seconds of deep thought, Jesse decided that having to think about it so hard was probably a good indicator that it had been too long. Taking his wallet from his back pocket, the man counted the cash that lay folded there and made up his mind to treat himself to a nice dinner. He would have to sacrifice the trash can and comforter he'd set money aside for in today's budget, and those items were ones he desperately needed. But Jesse gave himself permission anyway. After all, it wasn't every day a phoenix rose from the ashes…Celebration was in order, and if anyone deserved one, it was he.
Mercedes opened the door of a small, authentic Mexican restaurant called La Cocina and waited near the entrance to be seated. After requesting a booth for privacy, she ordered a water with lemon and looked over the menu briefly. Truth be told, the young woman was holding on to a lot of self pity, and resentfully reminded herself that she should probably have brought a book to read, since Puck was no longer around to eat with. After wallowing for several satisfying minutes, Mercedes thought she heard her named being called.
"Mercedes?"
She looked around and saw no one she recognized.
"Mercedes Jones?" A tall and handsome brunet whose voice she should have recognized anywhere materialized beside her table and startled the girl. It was Jesse St. Dick; asshole supreme of the Ohio Show Choir community! Jesse, in true pretty-boy fashion, still wore his hair in the same ultra-styled and product heavy manner as the last time Mercedes had set eyes on him. He had on a loose fitting shirt tucked into an immaculate pair of pressed and starched jeans atop a pair of white leather sneakers. Mercedes glared briefly at him because they had never gotten along in the past. However, Jesse's usual snarky smirk had been replaced by a hopeful expression that suggested he was glad to see her. Shock at the kind smile he wore caused Mercedes to melt slightly. She was almost pleased to see the familiar douchebag.
"Jesse?" She asked. "Wow…small world, huh?"
Jesse, who'd been so very ready to celebrate his grand return to the City of Angels as well as his impending good fortune in style, no longer felt so very triumphant. In the ninety minutes it had taken him to travel by bus to the familiar Mexican restaurant, he'd been smacked in the face by the only downside to his victory plan. He hadn't allowed for the very real possibility of feeling alone and isolated while he wrestled his way to the top. So he'd arrived at La Cocina, been seated, had his drink order taken, and pondered his dinner order before peering dejectedly at all patrons dining around him. Then Jesse had noticed the short diva walking toward her own lonely table, looking beautiful in a tan sundress with spaghetti straps and a pair of cork wedges. So he'd jumped up and shouted her name from halfway across the room. It was only the brief expression of disgust that flitted across her lovely face that made him momentarily regret acting so impulsively.
"Yeah, it's me…" he answered warily. "Fancy meeting you here!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Mercedes was hit by a fresh wave of sadness in response to knowledge that the only person in the room who knew her name hated her guts. But rather than allow tears of angst to flow freely, she choked them down by sheer force of Divatude. Visible annoyance was definitely preferable o the "pathetitude" she was currently feeling.
"Nothing, I just…"
"Good Afternoon…Welcome to La Cosina!" Jesse was interrupted by a short waitress who stopped just short of Mercedes' table and set down napkins, a bowl of warm tortilla chips and a carafe of homemade salsa. The waitress, who introduced herself as Maria, was an older woman…short, with a lovely olive complexion and accent. Her expression was both kind and mildly intimidating, and her body language exuded motherly authority.
"Muy bueno… this is very good," Maria stepped briefly around a wall, then returned bearing Jesse's water glass and coaster. She set it down most deliberately across from Mercedes. "It's the mid-day rush…and we'll be running out of tables soon. I was just about to ask the two of you if you would mind sharing a table." The woman pulled an order pad from the pocket of her apron and beamed unapologetically. "And you already know one another so this is perfect…" Maria fixed Jesse with a gaze that simultaneously called attention to the fact that he was still standing, and silently dared him to argue with her. When the young man obeyed she nodded in appreciation and proceeded to ask the two performers for their orders. Once completed, she patted Mercedes hand lightly, muttering "si, muy bonita," set down a stack of napkins, then exited to relay their orders to the kitchen.
"Am I the only one here who feels totally manhandled?" Jesse joked.
"Probably," Mercedes replied. "I actually thought she was kind of sweet…"
"Well, you would. I mean, she did just call you beautiful," he remarked, while admitting to himself that the compliment had been well-earned on Mercedes' part. "But how can she just force people into eating together and still expect to be tipped?"
"She was just doing her job, Jesse…" Mercedes replied before taking a sip of her water. Jesse's comment definitely rubbed Mercedes the wrong way; and she felt herself becoming angry again. She had interpreted his comments about forced dinner partners as Jesse's way of suggesting that she wasn't his preferred choice of company. Maria had actually reminded Mercedes of her Mom, who also had a peculiar knack for getting her way. So the sudden flash of homesickness, coupled with shame at feeling gratitude for Jesse's companionship, caused Mercedes to go on the offensive. "… Not that I'd know anything about that, of course. But Maria isn't like me; she's not a lazy slob or whatever…and she has a job to do!"
"Lazy?" Jesse was puzzled for a second before recalling that fateful day in April of 2011 when he and Mercedes had faced off over his criticism of a song performance.
Oh, dear…
The fact was, that if Maria hadn't forced Jesse to move and eat dinner with Mercedes, he would have made the suggestion himself. It was so nice to see a familiar face and hear a voice he knew…he'd wanted to eat with the girl. His comments about Maria stemmed mostly from relief and lack of anything else to say. He hadn't meant t stick his foot in his mouth.
"Don't tell me you're still upset about that Mercedes...that was years ago!" Which was once again the exact wrong thing to say.
"Upset?" Mercedes fiddled with a corner of the bowl holding the tortillas and glared in Jesse's direction. "Why would I be upset? I mean, its not like a dude I barely knew rolled up into my auditorium –an auditorium that he and his former choir mates deliberately defaced the year before, I might add— and listened to my very heartfelt performance, just to respond with little more than derision. It's not like you sat there looking bored or refused to make any comment other than 'hey, big Black girl…put your back into it!' It's not like I hadn't been proud of myself for performing a song originally sung by a man and expected to impress everybody by doing justice to an old school song I love. And you shat all over it with your rude-ass comments. So why in the world would I still be upset?"
"I never said…" Jesse blustered before deciding to give as good as he'd just gotten. "And anyway, what about you?"
"What about my ass?" Mercedes challenged. The gloves had definitely come off.
"You came into my auditorium with Kurtsie Lupone last year, and tried to sabotage my Regionals standing by giving Unique a dress!" He reminded her.
"What kinda bullshit…"
"Then you used your influence on him/her and convinced him/her to leave Carmel, which my boss blamed me for!" he interrupted. "You headlined that all girls ensemble, the TroubleTones, at competition and crushed my Vocal Adrenaline team at Nationals! Which was completely unfair, since you guys already lost at Sectinsls… and Carmel High fired my ass for not winning in Chicago! I've been unemployed since May because of you!"
"What…you…I.." Mercedes blustered.
The two combatants shot stormy looks across the table, ready to continue the argument in a much less dignified manner, but were halted by Maria's return with their orders. After making sure both tabs would be kept separate, she took her leave once more. By then, though, Jesse and Mercedes had each calmed down considerably. The food smelled delicious, and tummy rumblings couldn't be ignored, after all.
"Whatever, Jesse…I guess you and I can get along well enough to eat a meal together, right? I mean it won't kill us to be polite," Mercedes offered.
Relieved, Jesse agreed. "Yeah. And the company might be nice," he admitted. Then he smirked. "Even if it is me…"
Mercedes and Jesse were both caught off guard by the fact that they both burst into genuine laugher at the same exact instant. Miraculously, the awkwardness at the table melted completely.
Jesse was all of a sudden struck by how naturally playful his dinner mate could be…Mercedes didn't just respond to the joke with a hearty chuckle, although she did do that and he appreciated it. But Jesse was warmed internally by the way she picked up a balled napkin and playfully threw it at his chest, the way her whole body shook as she allowed mirth to take over all her senses. This was something Jesse remembered fondly from the brief time he'd spent as a member of New Directions. Mercedes had always had a habit of punctuating moments of hilarity with smacks to the forearm of the person closest to her, often bending over bodily to clutch her midsection when her shouts of joy caused her stomach muscles to cramp. Mercedes never had any qualms about allowing happiness to take over her whole body, and Jesse enjoyed witnessing it more than he understood. To be perfectly honest, he longed to be on the receiving end of one of her happy squeezing hugs.
A laughing Mercedes also had a moment of recognition regarding her tablemate's laughter. She remembered, for the briefest of moments, the way he sometimes allowed laughter to completely take over his features. It wasn't something she'd seen much of, to be perfectly honest…but it was hard to forget the wide-eyed, boyishly handsome expression Jesse adopted when genuinely tickled. The last time that Mercedes had witnessed the young man abandoning his usual serious countenance was just before her Junior Prom. He and Rachel Berry, another relentlessly driven perfectionist if ever there was one, had shared a laugh while plotting out his next career move. The innocent expression he'd worn for several seconds was quite nice, in Mercedes' opinion. In fact, she hoped to see it again before they parted company.
In that small moment, where both parties felt appreciation for the company they hadn't asked for but craved, the two decided silently to let bygones be bygones. After that their shared meal was both pleasant and fun.
Over taco salad, chimichangas, and fajitas shared between the two, Mercedes and Jesse talked at length about LA. They compared experiences, discovered acquaintance-ships with people they knew in common, and described their hobbies and distractions from everyday life. Jesse shared his goals and plans, described his new apartment, and congratulated Mercedes on her recording contract. Mercedes went into detail about her online classload, she regaled him with stories about sharing an apartment with Puck, and sympathized with Jesse over the two years he'd lost while living in Ohio. They traded stories about their separate forays into LA nightlife, and found out that they both frequented the same Westwood cafe when they needed a break from things. Finally, the topic came around to the New Directions…and they spent the remainder of their time gossiping about people they both knew from home.
"So Mercedes, you just came back from spending winter break in Ohio, right? Did you see any of your friends from McKinley?"
"Yeah…I did. It was really nice to visit home." She replied.
"Well what about that blonde kid; the homeless guy we double-dated with for your Junior Prom. You two are together aren't you?" Jesse asked. "Did you get to spend much time together in Lima?"
Mercedes' face fell. "Actually, Sam and I weren't a couple back then…we started dating right after that. But we're not together anymore." She rolled her eyes. "Scuttlebutt says he and Brittany got fake married right before Christmas."
Jesse peered at her incredulously. "Brittany? The ditzy blonde one?"
Mercedes nodded. "That's the one…"
"Ok, look," Jesse started. "What I am about to say here is gonna sound really mean…but you know I wouldn't say it if it wasn't my true opinion. I know all you New Directions were always really tight…like family. Plus, Brittany was one of those TroubleTones, which means you and she were probably extra close. But talk about the blonde leading the blond…" Jesse jokingly referred to the shared lack of intelligence that he'd always credited to both Sam and Brittany.
Mercedes knew intellectually that she probably shouldn't have laughed at Jesse's characterization of her ex and his new lady love. It was probably cruel and definitely small of her to help make them the butt of a joke when they weren't around to defend themselves. But in that moment Mercedes honestly couldn't help herself; she laughed until her sides hurt.
"And I'm no Einstein," Jesse continued. "But some of the things those two say…"
"Haven't you ever heard the expression, 'from out of the mouths of babes?'" Mercedes chuckled. She was referring to how well-matched in super-hot looks Sam and Brittany both were.
"Oh, they're both attractive; I'll give you that…" Jesse admitted. "…but it's probably not worth the trouble if you need an idiot translator to talk to them." They shared another laugh. "Besides," Jesse went on. "Brittany doesn't have a thing on you."
Mercedes nodded her thanks across the table and beamed. "Well, what about you? Any love connections to brag about?"
"No way," Jesse answered quickly. "When I lived here before I was pretty committed to playing 'pretty boy in the city with no entanglements,' to be honest. And in Ohio I was focused on saving money to make my way back here." Mercedes nodded and Jesse went on. "Over the Christmas holiday I toyed around with the idea of looking Rachel up…I thought I'd find her and see if maybe she and I could rekindle something. But she wasn't around."
"Yeah, you might wanna give up the ghost on that one," Mercedes advised. "She and Finn are bound to make up again; at least once or twice before they die. And most of the people who try to get between those two end up with their feelings hurt…Just ask Quinn!"
Jesse chuckled. "So true. And don't worry…it was just a passing fancy."
Mercedes and Jesse sent the next hour or so nibbling on chips and salsa, sharing an order of fried ice cream, and heaping verbal abuse on their exes new lovers. Mercedes was ashamed by how hard she laughed when Jesse affected a hilariously spot on (but probably more than a little racist) Mexican accent, so that he could refer to Britt as "Senorita Gato." She'd had zero idea that Jesse knew about the girl's strange and unhealthy attachment to her fat cat, or that he was so good at accents…in some ways, the guy was even better than Sam. Jesse nodded and smiled appreciatively when Mercedes adopted her "Finn voice" in order to ask Maria for more water. It was a slightly dopey and hilariously ignorant-sounding tone of speaking that she'd picked up from Sam the summer before. It made both Jesse and Mercedes happy to know that they weren't the only ones harboring ill feelings towards the relationships that their former significant others had found. Although they both knew snarky impressions and lightly veiled insults were a horrible thing for two people to build a friendship and bond over, they did it anyway. Eventually Jesse and Mercedes gathered their things and prepared to leave –after making sure to give Maria an exorbitant tip- and exchanged numbers so they could keep in touch.
Over the next few weeks, Jesse and Mercedes hung out quite frequently; although they never made specific arrangements for outings and activities they could enjoy. That wasn't exactly the nature of their relationship. But there were times when one or the other already had plans, and casually invited their new friend to join in. For instance, on one particular evening Mercedes had been intending to eat another meal at LaCocina, as she wanted to bask in Maria's motherly expressions for an hour or two…and she invited Jesse. But the young man was already committed to dance class, to which he invited her along. She went, and enjoyed herself a lot. And on another instance, Mercedes had been tapped to attend a talent contest being held in a local gymnasium with a label-mate, and at the last minute phoned Jesse to see if he would like to join her and support her coworker. These outings were always completely unplanned and occurred organically without either of the two forcing them to happen. So their friendship grew naturally and quickly.
During this time the two learned much about each other; they each developed an appreciation for traits that the other had in spades but they themselves could not boast. Jesse, for example, was often struck down by how dedicated Mercedes could be. No stranger to working towards his own goals, the young man had always assumed most people paled in comparison to himself on that front. Half the reason he found himself so attracted to Rachel Berry stemmed from her own doggish determination, and he'd always admired people who reminded him of himself. But Jesse was learning that Mercedes owned those self-same traits…the only difference being that her work ethnic was definitely spread more thinly among her very many interests. There was no way to sugar-coat the fact that Mercedes spent her energy attempting to be the best at many different things…unlike Jesse, who's whole life revolved around stardom. But even he had to admit the girl let very little stick to the pan. She did a lot, but did it all well…to be quite honest, watching Mercedes was exhausting. She maintained excellent grades in her school courses, she was beyond conscientious when working on something for her job (sometimes staying in the studio until all hours of the night perfecting her background vocals for tracks that didn't even bear her own name). Mercedes always made time for her many friends; doing favors that he himself would have charged people for, and she often mentioned the several times she'd gone back to Lima to help her former Glee mates with one project or another. The man had been forced to admit to himself that he'd been very wrong about Mercedes all those years ago when he called her lazy…in fact, she was anything but. And in comparison to Mercedes, Jesse was learning that he'd spent a major portion of his life acting like a major-league asshole. Seeing someone so selfless spend so much time helping others and making the people around her proud was inspiring Jesse to try and be more like her. He made up his mind after several weeks' time spent in Mercedes' company to do a good job at his place of employment. He wanted to be proud to earn his paycheck, just like his new friend.
By the same token, Mercedes spent a lot of time on the phone listening to Jesse discuss his own life, and was impressed by his own brand of determination. Jesse, she knew, had no furnishings in his apartment…except for a lonely futon he'd found discarded on the street. She knew the only consumer goods he owned were a laptop, his MP3 player, a keyboard he'd found and purchased in a thrift store, and the fancy iron he used to keep his clothing so pristine. He didn't even own a microwave; saying anything worth eating could be heated in the oven! She knew he only allowed himself a budget of less than $60 a week for food, transportation, and incidentals. And he only took time away from his grueling conditioning schedule to go to his job…but she also knew that he hadn't bothered to devote any time to making friends there. Jesse's whole purpose in life was achieving the stardom he craved, and he made almost no time for anything else. His self-centeredness probably should have disgusted Mercedes; she'd been raised to be selfless to a fault, after all. But more and more the woman found herself impressed by how determined he was to achieve his goals at all costs. Mercedes knew, and could readily admit, that she'd had a lifelong habit of putting the needs and wants of others over her own desires. Being close to a person so easily convinced of his own star power (one who had no qualms about running over others to let it shine) was a wake up call. Jesse unwittingly taught Mercedes several valuable lessons in the power of selfish thinking. So she began doing some things "the Jesse way." Instead of spending Sunday evenings in virtual chat rooms "studying" with online classmates, in an attempt to help them catch up on the work they should have been completing all week long, Mercedes started begging off and joining Jesse's voice class instead. Instead of agreeing to sing in the background for certain label-mates on weekend gigs, free of charge and expecting zero recognition, she now demanded to be paid or added to the program. She even refused to return to Lima and perform for the first ever McKinley High Sadie Hawkins Day Dance. She'd been specifically invited by Tina Cohen-Chang…who'd mentioned something about a "Lonely Girl Club" at school. But Mercedes declined, saying she'd rather take the first of many ballet classes with Jesse.
These changes were small…superficial ones, even. They didn't change the faces of the people making them, nor did they do anything to take away from the essence of what made Jesse, Jesse and Mercedes, Mercedes. But they did do one very important thing…these small tweaks in personality gave Jesse St. James and Mercedes Jones a lot more common ground. They had more to bond over, more to share…and it opened a door through which genuine friendship and camaraderie could come flooding through.
They bonded more; talking into the wee hours of the night about things they now knew about one another, but never thought to ask about before. For instance, Will Schuester; both Jesse and Mercedes harbored mixed feelings about their curly-haired former choir director. Mercedes often thought about that fateful day her senior year during Booty Camp when her Glee teacher purposely tried to make an example out of her in front of the group. And it still made her blood boil. But she also had to admit that if she'd never left, then she more than likely would have graduated having never led her own group. Also, on those evenings when she woke up feeling all alone in her solitary apartment, she remembered Schuester's "cream rising to the top" remark, took in the furnishings of her nice LA apartment, and went back to sleep smiling to the memory. As for Jesse, Will Schuester represented all the things wrong with adults who refuse take the well-meaning advice of teenagers. A nineteen-year-old Jesse had gone to McKinley, armed with years of show choir experience and tried to impart it on the director of New Directions. And he'd had most of it flung back in his face. In Jesse's heart, he knew the smaller group could have won Nationals in 2011; that they could have beaten Vocal Adrenaline! He knew he could have made it happen…if Schuester hadn't stubbornly insisted that he, as a grownup, knew better they could have won the whole thing. Jesse was humiliated to have had to take that kind of abuse. But on the other hand, the fee Schuester had paid Jesse almost made up for his embarrassing lack of authority. Receipt of the check had given St. James the inspiration and motivation to save more money before returning to California a second time. And he had to admit…having been hired at all had done wonders for his self esteem following his embarrassing return to Ohio.
Jesse and Mercedes also talked a lot about Shelby Corcoran. Neither felt any ambiguity about their feelings for that particular choir director; they both loved her unconditionally. Shelby had been the first mentor in Jesse's life to take time and teach him the rudiments of acting and showmanship. She had been the first to suggest he take classes in ballet and hip hop in addition to tap. She had encouraged him, made him her star, and inspired him to win at Nationals four times in a row. Shelby was, in Jesse's opinion, the reason he'd developed such an appetite for fame, and the silently thanked her daily for helping him find his heart's desire.
Mercedes also felt that Shelby was a conditioning factor in her quest to seek and find her dream. The teacher had gone much further than Schuester -and even her church's choir leader- where voice training was concerned…Shelby helped Mercedes reach notes she'd never heard in person before. Shelby listened to her, and encouraged Mercedes to select songs for the TroubleTones that spoke to her personally…since she was the leader and needed to feel married to the material in a bigger way than the rest of the group. She even took the time to mentor the girl when the responsibilities of leadership and alarming personal matters collided in a frustrating mass of nerves. Shelby had listened while Mercedes cried and explained who the new "star performer" was that showed up just in time help New Directions beat the TroubleTones at Sectionals. Shelby offered the girl advice for dealing with an ex-boyfriend while the new boyfriend hovered in the distance. And she declared to anyone who would listen that the TroubleTone loss was no-one's fault…least of all Mercedes'. Both Jesse and Mercedes felt close to Shelby in a way that they'd never felt about another teacher. So they teamed up to write long, detained emails to Shelby in New York, so that she could see how her "two undisputed stars" were faring together on the opposite coast. They Skyped with her from time to time; Mercedes cooing at Beth in the foreground while Jesse laughingly recounted the events of his day. They took turns calling Ms. Corcoran, inquiring politely about Rachel and Kurt…and the two always made sure to touch base as a team.
Their time together was fun…completely lighthearted and easy. They ate meals cooked together in Mercedes' kitchen, Jesse played his keyboard softly while she completed school assignments, and they napped together on lazy Sunday afternoons..for no other reason other than they both hated being alone on weekends. And they did all grocery and miscellaneous household item shopping together religiously. But Mercedes and Jesse were steadfast friends; nothing more than friendship was ever addressed. Jesse loved the interesting dynamic of being best friends with a female, and wondered why he'd never had one before. Mercedes liked having telephone conversations with a person bearing a low, rumbly voice…something she'd most definitely missed. But their friendship was way too nice for either to muddle things up with romantic curiosity or momentary attraction. Things, all in all, were really good between the two.
Obviously, old adages stand the test of time for a reason…people make up certain phrases, then use them over and over to describe universal experiences. So maybe it shouldn't have surprised anyone when the saying "all good things must come to an end" certainly reared its ugly head. Unfortunately, what started out as an innocent and playful pairing of two compatible souls eventually went the way of the dinosaurs. Eventually, the friendship between Mercedes and Jesse came to an unsuspecting end. Obviously, the two friends mourned the end of an era accordingly… Although it must be said; sometimes those good things get replaced with something infinitely better…