Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Note: The events in this were inspired by the latest episode of Grey's Anatomy, as well as the season two finale, so credit belongs to the creators. I just put a Samcedes twist on it. I wrote it quickly, so please forgive any mistakes I might have missed. Rated M for language and suggestive themes.

Burn

Mercedes could feel the heat of two eyes watching her every move and shivered.

Why did he keep looking at her like that? She'd done her best to avoid getting too close to him all night, deciding that being friendly from a distance would be a wiser choice than ignoring him outright. Mike and Tina's wedding was supposed to be a joyous event, and the last thing she wanted to do was turn it into a cringe-worthy spectacle.

Nope. Mercedes Jones was not about to be that woman. Under no circumstances could she let herself become the maid of honor who drank champagne like it was water and made a fool of herself in front of her ex by trying too hard to catch the bouquet and subsequently bursting into tears because she was afraid of spending the rest of her life alone with ten cats. Nope. She was not going to go there.

But it would certainly help if Sam Evans, the ex in question, would stop looking at her like she was a helpless gazelle alone at the water hole and he was a lion who hadn't eaten in weeks.

They hadn't seen each other in months, thirteen to be exact. Not since the fight-to-end-all-fights had taken place and she'd stormed out of their Los Angeles apartment with two bags and a sense of bitterness she hadn't been able to shake since. Unfortunately, they still ran in the same circles, and had been bound to meet again here.

She met his gaze and glared, mentally yelling at him to back to hell off. All he did was smirk in return as he brought his beer bottle to his lips for a slow sip. He'd been standing in that same corner all night, brooding and nursing drinks as he surveyed the reception. Every so often he'd make his way to the dance floor and bust a move with their friends, but afterwards he always retreated back to the same spot and resumed watching her with that predatory stare of his. Just when she would think that she'd managed to finally slip past him unnoticed, his eyes would find her once again and the cycle would repeat. The game was starting to get exhausting.

She sat at the head table stirring her drink absently as she wondered if it was bad form to leave a wedding reception early when it was for two of your best friends. She was about to flag Kurt over and ask his opinion when the opening notes to the Electric Slide began to play. Maybe she'd ask him later. It may have been the most overplayed song ever at weddings and school dances, but she loved it nonetheless. It sure as hell was better than the Macarena.

Smiling to herself, she finished the rest of her drink before making a beeline for the dance floor. Kurt and Blaine were both motioning to her from the middle of the group of people dancing and she was about to shimmy her way over to them when she saw a familiar blond head out of the corner of her eye. The blond head was attached to a lean body that had only gotten sexier with time, and it was making its way directly in front of her path.

"Goddamn it," she muttered under her breath, clenching her fists at her sides in anger. He knew this was the one song that she always had to dance to and now he was about to ruin the moment.

Fuck him.

Fuck Sam Evans and fuck his "ain't shit" attitude.

She didn't stop to look at him, but made the mistake of glancing at Kurt and Blaine for help, only to find them both looking nearly as delighted as Sam himself at her current predicament. This couldn't be happening.

Not wanting to waste another precious moment, she quickly veered to her left and bypassed the dance floor completely. Her feet were moving faster now, jogging as best they could in four inch heels. When she finally made it outside of the room and into the cool corridor of the luxurious hotel where the reception was being held, she looked around frantically, knowing that he would surely come after her now that she was alone and vulnerable. She had to hide.

But where?

She couldn't escape to her room, not without saying goodbye to the bride and groom. She just had to find a temporary sanctuary where she could wait him out. Noticing that the restrooms where just down an adjacent hallway, she hiked up her dress and quickly made her way over to them. Biting her lip, she debated on whether or not to go in. The women's restroom would be the most obvious choice, and knowing that he wasn't allowed in there would do little to deter Sam, but she couldn't see any other options.

But what if ...

In a last minute decision, she stumbled into the men's restroom and scurried to the lone stall in the corner. Cursing him for making her resort to seeking refuge near a bunch of disgusting urinals, she carefully stepped onto the toilet seat, bracing one hand against the wall of the stall to steady herself. The heels made her a little wobbly, but she managed to find a good balance. The sound of his voice calling her name from the hallways made her breath catch in her throat.

"Just stay calm. You can do this."

She made a conscious effort to breathe slow and steady breaths, and closed her eyes. Maybe if she imagined that this was just another uncomfortable yoga pose then she'd get through unscathed. The satisfaction that beating him at his own game would bring was motivation enough for her to stay put.

"Mercedes?" His voice was gruff as he pushed open the door to the restroom. She could see him as he walked in through the cracks of the stall. She bit her lip and winced. The man was wearingthat suit.

Damn, he was delicious.

He turned around and sighed. For a brief moment, as he looked directly at the stall she was hiding in, she feared that he would come closer and try to open the door. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and sighed again before shaking his head and leaving the room.

It was only after she'd counted to fifty that Mercedes allowed herself to let out a deep sigh of relief and step down from her perch on the toilet seat. She removed the shrug she'd been wearing from her shoulders and set it down on the counter. For some reason, she felt ten degrees warmer in the cool tiled restroom than she had all night long in the crowed reception. She was about to turn on the faucet and splash some water on her face when a voice from behind startled her.

"You're gonna have to talk to me sooner or later."

Damn him.

She shouldn't have been surprised, but she gasped anyway. She whirled around and saw Sam standing in front of her, his arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the door. A knowing smile played upon his lips as his eyes looked her up and down.

"We already talked," she snapped.

"Pleasantries don't count."

"I have nothing to say to you." She glared at him and it took all her will power not to slap the smile off of his chiseled face.

"Mercedes—"

She held up a hand to stop him. "No, Sam. I'm here trying to have a good time at my best friend's wedding, and you're ruining it."

"How am I ruining it? I just want to talk to you." The smile had left his face now, and for a brief moment he looked pained.

"You keep looking at me!" she yelled, causing his eyes to widen. "I can feel it! Every time I start to lose myself in the moment and have fun, I can feel your eyes on me! And then I look up and find you staring at me. It's inappropriate, Sam. You have no right to look at me like that anymore. No right. Stop looking at me!"

His eyes flashed. "Do you think I want to be looking at you? Huh? Do you think it's enjoyable for me to see you here looking so gorgeous when I know that the only reason why we're not together is because of me? It sucks, ok? It physically hurts …" He laughed bitterly and loosened his tie. "Believe me, Mercedes. I would give anything to not be looking at you."

She stared at him, unsure of how to respond to his outburst. He was telling the truth.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be creepy. I just—"

"It wasn't your fault." She hated to admit it, but it was true. "The break-up. It wasn't your fault. It takes two. I was just as much to blame as you."

He shook his head quickly, eyes wide. "No, don't say that. I was unreasonable. I knew that you were just trying to work hard to get your foot in the door. I was selfish."

"And I was distant. All I cared about was the damn recording contract. I forgot about us." She leaned back against the counter and sighed softly. When had things between them become so complicated? Love wasn't supposed to be easy, but sometimes it just seemed so damn impossible.

He nodded, but didn't speak. His hand reached behind him for the door handle, but she didn't want him to leave.

"I miss making up, you know." The words were out of her mouth before she had adequately weighed their consequences. "Our fights were always bad, but they almost seemed worth it when we made up."

He took in an audible breath, but his demeanor remained calm. "Some of my favorite memories are of us making up."

She smiled. "Like that one time ... I got so mad at you for filming me when I was singing in the shower and posting it on YouTube."

He chuckled, looking down at his shoes briefly before returning his eyes to her. "That one is my favorite. You didn't speak to me for days. Finally, I decided to corner you at work ..."

"And march into my office and give this big speech about how I needed to stop being so uptight." She bit her lip, but her smile grew wider.

"Yeah, and you started to argue with me again ..."

"And then you just grabbed me and kissed me ..."

"Until you stopped trying to talk ..."

She laughed softly as her cheeks began to flush. "It didn't take much ..."

"It never does."

She opened her mouth to make a snappy comeback, but the look in his eyes stopped her. There was lust there, but unlike earlier, there was now longing there as well. He'd missed her. Not just her body, but her. If he would have asked, she would have admitted that she'd missed him too.

She dipped her head slightly, and looked up at him through her full lashes. "And then ... I slipped your jacket off ..."

She could see him swallow hard. "Yeah, and I slid my hands up your legs ... Until they were under your skirt."

"Mmhmm. Then I started to unbutton your shirt."

He was silent for a beat, and then moved his hand from the door handle over to the lock. After clicking it into place, he began advancing slowly towards her.

"And then I pushed your skirt up over your hips."

Her heart was pounding as he stopped in front of her, and she was acutely aware of how shaky her legs had suddenly become. She wasn't a fool; whatever they were about to do wouldn't magically solve their problems. But damn rationality for once. She had to have him.

"Yeah ..." She bit her lip and stood up straighter. "And I reached down ... And started to unbuckle your belt."

He radiated heat and when she felt his hands grab her waist she nearly yelped at the sensation. His eyes had changed to a green so dark it almost looked black, a color that she had once been intimately familiar with. "You did. And then I took off your shirt ..."

Someday, this man would be the death of her.

She wrapped her arms around her neck and pulled him close to her. So close that her lips brushed against his as she spoke. "Yeah, and I slipped my hands underneath yourshirt, so I could touch your stomach ..." He still wasn't close enough, so she hopped up onto the counter and wrapped her legs around his waist, not willing to let him escape her grip. She'd missed how he felt pressed against her.

He groaned softly. "And then I ... Then I cupped that fine ass of yours in my hands before I slowly ... Slowly started to inch your panties down your legs."

"Yeah, and then I kissed your neck ... All your favorite spots." Their lips kept touching, but neither wanted to be the one to give in and go for the kiss.

"And then I ..."

"And then you ..."

"And then I ..." His voice was barely audible, and she was just about to give in when suddenly his lips attacked hers in a fierce kiss that was sure to instantly make her lips swollen.

The room was filled with the sounds of their soft moans as her tongue met his in a seductive dance that they'd done countless times before. Their kisses were hot and frantic, and she was on the brink of allowing herself to get lost in them when she felt herself being lifted from the counter. One of his arms was around her in an iron grip; the other was freely at his side.

"Two hands, baby," she murmured between kisses.

"What for?"

He backed them slowly into the stall, never allowing his lips to leave hers. Why the stall?

"Thought you locked the door."

He grunted and slapped her ass once with his free hand before he plopped down on the toilet seat.

"I need you on top."

ETA: Due to the positive responses I've gotten to this story, I'll consider making it a two shot/posting a follow up chapter of some kind. Writing smut brings out my immature side, but we'll see ... ;)