Hey avid Samcedes shippers! I'm not a newbie when it comes to Fanfiction. However, I'm a newcomer in the Samcedes fandom. I'm usually into Big Time Rush but I've decided to dabble into Glee. My Big Time Rush story is on hiatus and I've decided to release my first ever Glee Fanfiction story. I've also decided to write a story less intense and emotionally draining than my first Fanfiction story. Well, I sincerely hope that this story does well and that you guys take a liking towards it. The chapters in this story are fairly short and concise. Don't forget to read and review! Here goes nothing.
TITLE: Mercedes + Sam's Epic Night Out
PAIRINGS: Samcedes, Finnchel, Fabravans, and slight Klaine
SUMMARY: They call it the epic night, where a girl and a guy meet by colossal accident thanks to a missing rock star sex kitten and an indie band's secret show. This is the epic tale of Mercedes and Sam as they spend one crazy night together filled with music, wannabe hipsters, a mysterious stalker, and possibly love. Loosely based on Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist.
DISCLAIMER: Glee is owned by FOX.
RATING: Rated M for very strong language, underage drinking, teen angst, illegal drug use, and sexual themes and innuendos. For mature audiences only!
One
The Morningside Inn
235 West 107th Street
Upper West Side
With a triumphant sigh, Mercedes Jones finally closed her purple suitcase, which was bulging and over packed from the ridiculous amount of clothes and souvenirs. Everything was finally packed, her ten pairs of shoes, her collection of Ralph Lauren polos in every color, and even the large brown bag of fashion jewelry that she bought from a street vendor in Times Square.
With a nostalgic grin, Mercedes stared out the large window right beside her bed. As always, the view was breathtaking. It overlooked the northern tip of Central Park. Dusk was long gone and New York's darkness was lit by the yellow glow of street lights. There were still dozens of cars and those iconic yellow taxi cabs zipping down Broadway, while throngs people walked in all directions like hundreds of mini ants.
After three years, the Christmas vacation trip to New York had finally come to pass. Since freshman year, Mr. Shuester, the Glee Club advisor, promised the members of Glee Club a Christmas vacation trip to New York before they graduated. Of course, it had taken much longer than anyone anticipated. There were budget cuts and absolutely no revenue coming in from Glee Club's failed attempts at fundraising money. Apparently, no one wanted to pay ten dollars for lame Valentine's singing telegrams.
It wasn't until senior year that Glee Club would be finally going to New York for the Christmas holiday. It had turned out to be the best week and a half of Mercedes's whole high school career. In nine short hours, Mercedes and the rest of the Glee Club would be on the first train back home to Lima, Ohio.
She sat on her king sized bed, yawning from another long day sightseeing. Today, the group visited The Statue of Liberty, even though there was no way of going to the top. It sucked that she had to come back to the hotel and start packing. The worst part of any trip was leaving and packing much more clothes and stuff than you came with. At least she had gotten her stuff together.
Rachel Berry, her roommate still hadn't packed. Her shit was everywhere. Clothes were strewn on the burgundy carpet, shoes carelessly atop her bed, and her toiletries still on the nightstand. Rachel didn't seem like the messy type, especially because her outward appearance was very neat and impeccable.
Mercedes would've given Rachel a hand with her stuff if she wasn't such a stuck up bitch. The two girls didn't get along, they never really did. They were both wannabe divas and most times there was only room for one. At the beginning of the trip, Mercedes and Rachel nearly tore Mr. Shue to shreds when he assigned them in the same room. It just wasn't going to work.
It wasn't that Mercedes hated Rachel; she just didn't like always landing second place. Since freshman year, Rachel had gotten almost every important solo while Mercedes always sung backup. No matter how much high notes she could flawlessly hit, she was always stuck in Berry's shadow. If Mercedes didn't know better, she'd think that Rachel was "buying" her way to the top by taking a couple lessons on Shuester's skin flute. As much as she wanted that to be true, Mr. Shue was engaged to Ms. Pillsbury, the bug eyed guidance counselor with an annoyingly squeaky voice.
Rachel was in the shower. She'd been in there since the group got back from their last New York dinner at a local Italian restaurant. That was an almost an hour ago and she wasn't one to take long showers. That was one of the few things the girls didn't argue about. Of course, Rachel was selfish and self-centered. But, she wasn't a bathroom whore. That was at least one good thing Mercedes could say about her.
Talking of showers, she needed one herself. She was a sweaty mess. It was at least seventy degrees in their room and she was still dressed in the heavy layers of sweaters, socks, and pants from earlier. All she wanted was a steamy shower and to finally unwind and relax. She wanted to watch TMZ on the large flat screen TV on the wall in front of her bed. She could even sneak into Tina Cohen-Chang and Sugar Motta's room, blankets and pillows in hand, if being with Rachel became totally unbearable.
Mercedes, both hands clammy, was growing increasingly impatient with Rachel. How long could it possibly take her to wash up? After all, she wasn't even a full B cup and had twigs for arms and legs. That was pretty much her anatomy. Unless, Berry had some extra body parts that she was keeping on the down low.
She'd take off her clothes but her towel and robe were in the bathroom. And there was no way she was going to parade around stark naked especially with another person in the room. No one had ever seen her naked, not even her ex-boyfriend Shane Tinsley. She wasn't about give Rachel Berry, of all people, a sneak preview of her lovely lady parts.
"Berry!" Mercedes exclaimed annoyed. She tugged on the thick fabric of her turtleneck.
"What's taking you so long?" she added.
There was no answer, just the obnoxious sound of the blow dryer and Rachel singing a song in her perfect soprano voice. The blow dryer stopped and so did her annoying singing.
"Rachel fucking Berry!" Mercedes shouted, her voice going up a decimal or two.
The bathroom door finally swung open, a thick air of steam pouring out. Rachel Berry emerged, her chestnut brown hair perfectly coiffed in a wave of curls. She was wearing makeup and not her usual Sunday school look with a little blush and clear lip gloss. She looked like one of the Maybelline models that made Mercedes want to punch herself in the face at how beautiful they were. Her large brown eyes were rimmed with charcoal eyeliner and her lips were painted a dark red.
At first, Mercedes was captivated by Rachel's flawless hair and makeup, not even looking at what the petite brunette was wearing. Mercedes gasped at the black strapless mini dress that snugly accentuated Rachel's curves, or lack thereof. The dress was skin tight and barely reached her lower thighs. On her feet was a pair of faux leather hot pink heels that made her at least five inches taller. As much as Mercedes hated to admit it, Rachel looked really good.
Mercedes, a natural born fashionista, wanted to compliment her. The dress and those to-die-for heels fit her really well even though she looked like a first class skank. But, she kept her mouth shut. The last thing she wanted to do was stroke Rachel's already Goliath-sized ego.
"You called me?" Rachel asked. Her hands were glued to her hips, a small smirk etched on her olive colored face. She looked damn good and she very well knew it.
"What are you dressed up for? Curfew's in half an hour Berry," Mercedes managed to say, her voice matter-of-fact.
"I know," she replied nonchalantly, shrugging her bare shoulders.
"Then why?"
"That's what I actually wanted to talk about," the brunette said. She gave her roommate a friendly grin that dripped fakeness. Mercedes quickly gave her an eye roll. Rachel wasn't one to just act friendly out of the blue. She definitely wanted something.
"There's this indie band that I'm totally in love with that's playing tonight downtown. I've wanted to go all week," Rachel explained. She was seeking sympathy with that pleading, innocent look that she had perfected since her days in diapers.
"Since when are you into indie?" Mercedes asked. She tried to stifle a laugh. The usual Rachel would've scoff at indie music. She was a Barbra Streisand type of girl.
Mercedes wasn't the only one with that question. The other Glee Club girls were asking the same thing all week. Rachel was obsessed with indie music and this underground band. She would listen to their music on full blast whenever she showered, singing along in a loud and crass voice. She would drum her fingers lightly on a table during mealtime, softly singing the lyrics to herself. No one in Glee Club had ever seen Rachel so obsessed with a band, not even Barbra Streisand could compare. There was more to the story than she was letting on.
The mysterious band was what she called raw indie. According to her, that was a far cry from the popped out mainstream indie bands, such as Foster the People.
"Pumped up Kicks is pure garbage!" Rachel argued as the group sat for lunch.
"Since I found The Cosmic Slices," Rachel retorted. She tried to hide that lovesick smile on her face, failing miserably.
"The who?"
"The Cosmic Slices!" she repeated. The way she said it was in her usual duh! tone.
"Is that the band with the horrible lyrics you've been singing all week?" Mercedes asked, smirking.
"They are not horrible. He's a poet," Rachel snapped, suddenly becoming defensive.
Mercedes shook her head knowingly. There was definitely a boy involved. It was obvious with that dreamy smile on her face, the way she called him a poet and not they, and her sudden demeanor that screamed protective girlfriend.
Mercedes crossed her arms across her chest. "What's his name?"
Rachel immediately turned beet red, biting her lips in order to stifle a girlish giggle. She was caught red handed!
"Finn Hudson."
"A total Sex God," she added with a cheeky grin.
Rachel grabbed her iPhone and threw it to Mercedes. This Finn Hudson guy was her main screensaver. He was better looking than Mercedes thought. He had insanely disheveled dark brown hair instead on the bright red mohawk she was expecting to see. He was muscular and tanned, which was weird for a so-called indie rocker. Weren't they all pale and walking skeletons? His eyes were covered in the played out shutter shades that Kanye West killed so badly. He gave the camera a rebellious sneer.
"He's cute."
"I know! He's my future husband!" Rachel declared.
Mercedes gave her a weird look and scoffed. This new look was definitely making Rachel crazy, not that she wasn't already fifty shades of mad.
"Anyways…" Rachel started, clearing her throat.
"Tina was my tag along. But she chickened out during dinner," Rachel explained. "She doesn't want to risk getting caught."
"Which is fine and everything. But now I don't have a buddy. I can't possibly go out on my own looking like this."
"Oh no…" was the first thought in Mercedes' head. Rachel wanted her to replace Tina as her tag along bitch. Most times, Mercedes couldn't even stand being in the same room with Rachel. She couldn't imagine actually following her downtown and going to this show with her. That's what friends do. She and Rachel definitely weren't friends. They were more like obligated acquaintances, forced to see eye to eye. After all, they both had the same dream. They wanted nothing more than to finally beat their rival Vocal Adrenaline at Nationals.
"I see where this is going Berry. I'm not going to do it. Hell to the no!" Mercedes barked. She snapped her fingers as if it emphasized her answer.
Like always, Rachel didn't give up without a fight. She teetered over to Mercedes and sat next to her on the plush king sized bed.
"I know we're not the best of friends," Rachel started.
"We aren't even friends Berry," Mercedes corrected.
"I'll do anything if you come with me to the gig. I really want to go," Rachel begged. Her dark lips curled into a pout.
"What could you possibly do for me in return?" Mercedes asked, giving Rachel an incredulous look.
Rachel cast her eyes to the ground, biting her lip. Even she didn't know what she was willing to give up. But, then she sighed with resignation. There was one thing Mercedes would not say no to.
"I'll let you take all my lead solos."
Mercedes's eyes widened with shock. She couldn't believe her ears. Did Rachel Berry just willingly offer to give up her solos?
"Even if we make Regionals and Nationals," she added, sighing sadly.
"Deal," Mercedes blurted without thinking. She clasped her hand over her mouth, cursing at herself for being too quick. There was no turning back. She had just agreed to sneak out with Rachel Berry to see some shitty indie band. This was finally Mercedes's chance to be player one instead of her usual player two.
Rachel let out an excited squeal and wrapped her skinny arms around Mercedes. She squeezed with all her might, trembling with excitement.
"I could just kiss you right now!" Rachel exclaimed. Her red lips curled into a giddy grin.
"Um…no thanks Berry. I don't do muff pie," Mercedes said, cracking a grin.
"I don't either Jones. Now just get ready! The gig's at ten thirty" Rachel instructed, grabbing a simple black blazer and her gold clutch. She stuffed her arms into the arms of the jacket, fixing the collar and smoothing the creases.
"Hold up Miss Bossy Pants," Mercedes interjected.
"What?"
"No matter what, we need to be here by midnight. No exceptions!"
"Fair enough," Rachel replied, with an assuring grin. She dabbed a small amount of Chanel No. 5 on her neck and wrists.
Rachel glanced at Mercedes with anxious eyes.
"Hurry!" she demanded.
"We have a concert to get to!"
What do you guys think? Any good? Promising? Interesting? Let me know! Don't forget to check out my profile for this story's official playlist!