Disclaimer: Glee's not mine and neither are the songs mentioned.

Sorry about any mistakes, it's late!

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You Beat Me To The Punch

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"That day, I first saw you,whoa whoa, passing by

I wanted to know your name but I was just too shy

But I was looking at you so hard

Until you must have had a hunch"

-Mary Wells-

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Ma Evans was most likely rolling in her grave. Sam didn't want to think of the beating she was sure to give him if she'd been alive to see him in such a place. He didn't particularly mind. His grandmother had never been a tolerant woman. She had something to say about everyone. If you weren't colored, then you were either from the country, a non-catholic or a democrat which she considered just as bad. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what she'd say about this club. Sure, two years had passed since those ridiculous segregation laws had been repealed, but there was still some tension. He wasn't a fool, he knew there was still a long way to go but it was an improvement. Miss Mama's was a club owned by a black man. Up until two years ago, only black folk, with the exception of a few tolerant white people, spent their evenings there. Even now, the majority of clients were colored. Miss Mama's had kept it's old feel, refusing to play any records and relying solely on the talent of live bands who played songs ranging from blues to rock and roll. Sam loved it.

The club was packed and he completely understood why. The band was a good one, taking requests from anyone. The dance floor was full too, and he watched with amusement as a couple of guys made a spectacle of themselves, dancing like drunken fools and occasionally falling.

When Noah insisted Sam spend the evening out with the boys, he hadn't questioned it. Being new in Lima meant having to do everything you could to force yourself in the community, to show you deserved to be a part of them. He hoped spending the evening at Miss Mama's with the boys would give him the opportunity to show just how cool he was. That planned failed miserably. The moment they had set foot in the club, they'd been separated. The boys found pretty girls to dance with, and Sam was left alone at the bar, forgotten.

A few girls asked him to dance. They'd all been very pretty, gorgeous even. He'd said no to each of them. There was only one woman he wanted to dance with, but she barely knew he existed. No. That was a lie. She knew he existed, she just didn't seem to care. Sam had first seen her at the university, walking on campus with an asian girl and a very loud latina. He had stared. Hard. And she had caught him. She'd arched a brow as if daring him to make some kind of comment.

After, he'd seen her plenty more times on campus looking as beautiful as she did the first time he had seen her. He stared. He couldn't help himself, and she caught him every time. Sam hadn't been very subtle with his attraction for her. He'd asked about her often, hoping that someone would help him meet her. There was something intimidating about her, that he couldn't quite understand. If it were any other girl, he'd have been flirting and laying down the charm a long time ago. But not with this girl. He felt inadequate, like a peasant crushing on a princess.

Noah knew her, but hadn't been very forthcoming with information. All Sam knew was that her name was Mercy Jones and that she had the voice of an angel, or so Noah said. His eyes searched the club until they rested on her. She was a sight for sore eyes. Curves in all the right places, and dark flawless skin. If Ma Evans could hear his thoughts about the black woman, she'd most likely set herself on fire. Again, he didn't mind. He was most likely going to hell anyway, as there was no way his thoughts hadn't been sinful and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to experience any of them -christian or not. Ma Evans or not, he was getting his lady. Besides, it wasn't his fault she wasn't tolerant.

Sam watched as she left her friends and sat on a stool at the other end of the bar. He was staring again. He knew it, and so did she, because she met his gaze and rolled her eyes. It shouldn't have amused him as much as it did. Now was the moment. She was alone for once, and she knew he was there. If he let the opportunity slide now, he'd forever be 'the coward'. Taking all the courage he had, he strolled over to her, hoping he showed confidence rather than the nervousness he felt.

"Not interested." she said, the moment he reached her not even bothering to glance at him.

"Pardon?" God, this was harder than he thought.

"You're here to talk to me, right?" she signaled the bartender. "Not interested." Sam wasn't one to walk away from a challenge, especially not one as delightful as her. Much to her surprise, he took the seat next to her and ordered a himself a drink, after her. Mercy didn't pay him the slightest bit of attention as she drowned her martini. Then, she took out a cigarette packet from her dress pocket. He nearly laughed at that. She didn't look like a smoker. Then again neither did he, but he smoked on occasion. Who didn't?

"Can I bum a smoke?" he asked as she toyed with the slim white stick. She rolled her eyes and handed him the cigarette and her lighter. "Now, why's a pretty little thing like you smokin'? They say it's not good for the health."

Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Says the man who just lit himself a fag. I don't usually smoke. The stress brings out the devil in all of us."

"Do I stress you out then?" he asked, teasingly. But he pulled an ashtray that was on the counter closer to him and put out the cigarette before tucking it behind his ear.

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart." her voice was stern, but he could see the amusement dancing in her eyes when she turned to look at him. "So what bring a man like you in a place like this?"

"They say it's the funnest joint in town, and my bud wanted to prove it." He was slowly but surely getting comfortable. As intimidating as she was, something about her was comforting.

"Who's your friend, then?" she asked skeptically.

"Noah Puckerman, he's..." Sam scanned the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of his good friend, but Mercy waved a hand dismissively.

"I know Puck. He's a bad ass with a heart made of marshmallows." she smiled fondly at the thought of him, and Sam felt a pang of jealousy. He shouldn't have felt it, after all she was a stranger. But he couldn't help it."So, you're Sam Evans. The cowboy from Tennessee."

"Guilty, but I ain't no cowboy. I lived in Memphis." he sent her his best smile, only to be met with an icy stare. Even upset, she managed to be the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on.

"To which I repeat my question: what's a man like you doing in place like this."

"Just tryin' to have a blast. I'm not here for trouble." he replied sincerely.

"So why aren't you dancing then? Plenty of girls would be willing." She jerked her head towards a group of girls that hung near the stage, anxious for someone to ask them for a dance.

"Maybe the one I want isn't."

Her eyes widened at that, as though she hadn't expected him to be so direct. He couldn't blame her. He'd spent the last few weeks staring at her from a far like some fool.

"Look, you seem like a nice guy, but like I said, I'm not interested."

"I find that really hard to believe." came his easy reply.

"Because you have that southern charm that make women fall at your feet?"

"There's that," he grinned when she rolled her eyes and continued. "And I'm pretty sure you would have sent me on my way if you really wanted me gone."

"I told you to leave plenty of times already," she pointed out.

"Please, we both know you'd have me sittin' on my ass outside if I annoyed you that much. People keep an eye on you, just in case I cause trouble. They'd kick me out without a second thought and you'd help."

"Well you aren't wrong."

"All I want is a dance. Just a dance." he sent her what he hoped was a charming smile and held out a hand. "If you don't enjoy yourself, I won't bother you again."

She hesitated, her eyes searching his for a moment, looking for some type of insincerity. He almost gave up altogether,, taking her lack of response for a rejection. But then, Mercy lay her hand in his. Her smile was slow. She probably hadn't meant to be seductive, yet Sam would be the first to assure her she was."Fine. Fair warning: I'm not easily pleased, Mr. Evans."

He had to chuckle at that. Most women he knew were all show and no go. They were quick to tell him one thing, but when the time came to prove themselves they couldn't. Sam wanted a challenge. A woman who could thrill and inspire him. A woman who wasn't afraid to be herself. Something told him this woman meant every word she said. She'd be easy to befriend, but she'd be the type of woman who took care and consideration when picking a lover or rather, a beau. She wasn't innocent, he could tell that from the way she moved and the way she spoke. There was something sultry about it, something no innocent woman he had ever met managed to have. He knew that if he managed to have her body for a night, that wouldn't mean he had her heart, and there lay the prize, right? The heart of a woman meant more than a thousand busy nights, because with her heart you could have all that and more. Though he would never be as stupid as to claim he'd refuse going home with her. No, he wanted that he just wasn't certain he'd be satisfied.

If Mercedes could hear Sam's thoughts, she would agree without a moment's hesitation. She liked men. She liked the feel of their arms around her, their smell, even the height difference that made her feel protected by them, even though she wasn't one to let other's fight her battles. She loved a man's honest opinion because no matter what anyone said, men and women did not view the world the same way. Their input helped broaden her own beliefs and opinions. Mercedes could be friends with anyone, and prided herself for it. But when it came to love, well, things were more complicated. No one wanted a woman like her. They had problems with her skin tone, her weight or her care-free attitude. No. Mercedes Jones was fit as a friend, and a friend only. Of course, there had been a few people that came sniffing around her house, begging for a date. In some rare occasions, she'd spent a cold night with them even though none had been worth a second of her time. They had hoped to change her, to use her until someone better came along or simply put, she was a fetish. One thing was common with everyone she met: she wasn't fit to be anyone's wife. And so if heartbreak was inevitable, Mercedes wanted to be certain it was worth it.

With her hand gripped tightly in Sam's, she slid of the stool and let him lead her to the dance floor. He was handsome alright, just like Santana had forced her to admit he was. Tall, with broad shoulders and arms she was certain could lift a horse. And that ass, let's not go there. Ignoring him was harder than she had expected. Every time she caught his eye, she'd feel her knees weaken, and her heart pound against her chest. But she wasn't stupid. She'd learned a long time ago that men like him didn't go for girls like her, not for serious relationships. He was just another heartbreak waiting to happen. Yet he insisted, and after much debating, she decided to give him a chance.

"Jeff!" yelled Mercedes over the noise. When the piano player caught her eye, she called out again. "Tutti Frutti!"

Much to Sam's confusion Jeff gave her a thumbs up and a slight nod. Within second's the band had slipped into an energetic cover of Little Richard's Tutti Frutti. She could move. He would never admit it to her, but he had trouble keeping up. Mercedes had noticed quickly enough that Sam Evans wasn't the best dancer in the club, but what he lacked in talent he made up for in energy. She had to admire that. What was supposed to be one dance turned into two and eventually five. He was fun. Funner than most men she danced with. In fact, she hadn't stopped laughing and smiling since she stepped foot on the dance floor.

Mercedes would have returned to her stool when she heard the slower tempo of the next song, but in Sam gently tugged her hand, pulling her closer to him.

"You already had more than one dance." she said softly as he rested one hand on her hip.

"I said I'd leave you alone if you didn't enjoy yourself. You did. I'm not letting you go that easily." he smiled down at her. Mercedes put one hand on his shoulder, the other still clasped tightly in his larger one. His eyes never left hers as she sang along to the song absently.

"Whenever you came around,my heart would pound, so you must have had a hunch."

"The lyrics are fitting, don't you think?" he asked. Sam lifted his left arm slightly to her right, guiding her into a twirl.

"For that to be true, I'd have to be attracted to you." she said lightly, as he guided her into an other twirl, only this time he pulled her against him before she could complete her turn.

"And you aren't?" He asked, his lips skimming her earlobe.

"Not at all." she was lying, of course. Just the faint feel of his lips touching her sent thrills up her spine. He seemed not to believe her words, as she felt him press a light kiss in the curve of her neck before letting her complete the turn. Once she was facing him again, she smiled, amused. "okay. Maybe you're cute." They danced a while longer. Somehow there was something intimate about their dance even though they weren't as close as some couples.

"Do you think I could take you out to supper one day?" he asked after a while.

Mercedes laughed and shook her head. "Not likely."

"Why's that?" he asked, in a tone he hoped didn't betray the slight hurt he felt.

"You don't want me, Sam. Trust me, you're better off with someone else."

"It's just supper. We could be friends." he said easily.

"We both know that's not just what you want." she smiled sadly when he pulled her closer to him, pressing her against his hard chest. "Besides, I already have too many friends. I wouldn't have the time to treat you right." Something about the way she spoke made him feel uncomfortable. He knew she was trying to tease him, but behind that he swore he could hear a touch of seriousness and sadness.

"What about you?" he asked. "Does anyone treat you right?"

She knew he wasn't asking about her friendships. It was more than that. He had picked up on her sadness, something most people couldn't do.

"I think that's enough for now." said Mercedes, smiling tightly. "Thanks for the dances and the drink, but I better be heading off." Oh, she was fast. Mercedes was out of his arms and out of the club in a flash. By the time he reached left the building and reached the parking lot she was gone. She'd left him alone, confused but certain of one thing: he wanted to see her again.