"I could teach you sometime," Sam said, grinning and taking a sip of his hot chocolate.
"As great as that sounds, I'm not exactly sure where or when Na'vi would come in handy for me," Mercedes replied, smiling and shaking her head.
"Oh, you know…at the hardware store…buying groceries…scoring phone numbers at football games…oh! Spur-of-the-moment trips to Pandora." Mercedes threw her head back and laughed heartily before putting her hand over her mouth to stifle it.
Sam just watched her, beaming as she tried to collect herself. In that short moment, he would have sworn to jump off cliffs if it meant he could hear her laugh as much as possible. She finally leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and sipping her own hot chocolate.
"So you'll consider it?"
"Yeah, sure. I'll consider it, Sam," she said shaking her head and smiling at him.
"You could teach me something too. Like…how to do that one move you did during Duets week." In his head, it was supposed to be funny, but when she looked confused, he immediately regretted not opting to say something obvious like vocal runs or how to convey the proper diva attitude.
"What move?"
"The one…" He knew he'd have trouble trying to politely explain which move he meant.
"The one…" she said, repeating him. A smirk was threatening to appear at the corner of her lips and Sam caught it. He suddenly realized she knew exactly what move he was talking about. Fine; if she wanted him to say it, he would say it.
"The one where you shake that ass," he deadpanned. Her smirk made its full appearance and she shook her head again.
"Did you particularly enjoy that move?"
"Hell yeah," he said, not missing a beat. Her eyes widened at his bluntness, and he was surprised by it as well. Something about being around her made him honest, even if it was inappropriate. Her expression went back to normal and she took another sip of her drink.
"I'd teach you, but I'm not sure you have the goods." Sam gasped histrionically.
"Are you kidding? Look at this," he said, standing and turning around, making a point of sticking out his backside. She was already roaring with laughter, but he went on.
"This is quite a lot to work with. I have an ass, Ms. Jones. It may not be as magnificent as yours, but I have the goods." She was still laughing.
"Okay! Will you sit down?" He grinned and complied, scooting his chair back up to the small table.
"So it's settled. I teach you Na'vi, you teach me how to shake my ass."
"I never actually agreed to any of that."
"What! But…" She laughed again.
"You look like a little kid." He gave an exaggerated pout and finished off his hot chocolate. She smiled and suddenly furrowed her eyebrows. "Quinn couldn't make it?"
"I'm not enough for you?" he deflected. She rolled her eyes.
"One might even say you're too much."
Sam wasn't sure what he was more upset about. Letting his girlfriend convince him she got mono from Finn because she almost choked on a gumball, the fact that she'd been cheating on him right under his nose, the fact that The Beiber Experience was a wasted effort, or the fact that Santana had basically told him they were now dating.
He didn't exactly turn her down, but he didn't exactly say okay, either. But he learned that not saying no was the same as saying yes in her mind. So if they were dating now, so be it. At least he'd have something to say to hurt Quinn's feelings when he broke up with her. That sounded bad, but his feelings were hurt, and if he could hurt hers just a little, he would. And honestly, he figured she wouldn't care. She'd get over the shock of the break up and go off to continue making out with Finn.
His desire for popularity was waning, but it wasn't gone. Santana was an ex-Cheerio, and that was more than enough to keep an image up.
But of course, his heart wasn't in it. His heart was on coffee dates and movie nights laughing until its insides hurt, eating Doritos and take-out with a sassy brunette with an affinity for loud patterns.
He wasn't in love. He knew it would be unfair to assume that the feelings he'd developed so quickly for Mercedes meant love, because he knew she was the one for him, but he only knew because he got to cheat and look at his future. It was confusing for him because he knew how she made him feel, but if he said he loved her, would he just be saying it because he knew he'd fall in love with her? Or was he really falling in love with her? It was a mindfuck, to say the least.
It didn't help that Sam had always been cursed with a tendency to jump the gun. He had no idea what to do in this situation pacing-wise. Should he be dating Santana? That scenario kind of fell in his lap, but was it supposed to?
"Long day?" Sam looked up from his current position (face down on the table) to see Mercedes standing above him, holding her purse and some books with her head tilted. He wasn't sure how long he'd been in the library, but he'd come there to think, and the result was his brain temporarily detonating. All of that was quickly forgotten, however. His tired and gloomy expression had easily transitioned into a smile at the sight of her.
"You could say that," he mumbled. She took a seat across from him and set her books down.
"I figured."
"You figured? Why, what did you hear?" he asked, sitting up straight.
"Oh, just that Quinn cheated on you with Finn, you dumped her, and not two minutes later, you're dating Satan herself. Unless anything else happened," she said with a half-smile.
"Don't judge me," he said, realizing how bad it sounded out loud.
"I wasn't going to." She was still smiling at him, and he stared back. They stayed like that for a few minutes, just looking at each other.
"I could really use a Futurama marathon to ease my troubles," he said, finally breaking the silence.
"What a coincidence, I happen to have the box set!" He fist pumped and she laughed and stood to leave with him following suit.
Weeks later, after a night of making out with a weeping Santana, jamming to impromptu performances, getting smashed and praying he would land on Mercedes during Spin the Bottle and coming up short, it was time to leave Rachel Berry's home. Santana wanted to leave with Brittany, which confused him, but he was fine with driving home alone. He'd waited long enough to where he could see fairly straight, but his judgment was still cloudy.
He unlocked his truck and opened the door on the driver's side but didn't get in, because the girl exiting the Berry's front door had caught his attention. Did Mercedes have a ride?
"Hey you!" he shouted, grinning. She looked over in his direction and smiled before making her way over. "Do you need a ride?" he asked, once she stood in front of him.
"I do!" she said cheerfully. She was still out of it like him, but she was walking straight.
He ran around his truck to the passenger side and opened the door. He then ran back to where she was standing and picked her up bridal style. He carried her around, sat her down in the seat and closed the door. She was giggling the whole time.
"To the Jones house," he said once he was inside the vehicle. He started the engine and pulled off, knocking over a trashcan on the way.
"Don't kill us…" she said. Her words were cautionary, but her tone and voice were playful.
"Never! I'm an excellent driver," he said, heading to her house and straddling lanes.
When he pulled up in front of her house, he stopped the car.
"I'm sad, you know," he said after moments of silence. She poked her bottom lip out.
"Why is Sammy sad?" He liked hearing her call him that. The familiarity warmed his heart.
"I didn't get to kiss you tonight." He was always on the verge of doing it sober, and now with a bit of liquid courage, it was a wonder he hadn't just done it already. Her lips were seemingly always on his mind since that kiss with her in his future. Every kiss since then had paled in comparison, and he just wanted the feeling again.
"I wanted to kiss you too," she said, smiling.
That green light was what he'd been waiting for, as he wasted no time in unbuckling his seat belt and leaning over to kiss her jaw, bottom lip, and entire mouth. She kissed back with as much enthusiasm. It should have been sloppy, awkward and uncoordinated considering their current positions and inebriation. But it was smooth, fluid, and passionate.
"Call me Sammy again," he said after pulling away, breathing heavily.
"Kiss me again, Sammy," she responded, her eyes staring into his, then traveling to his lips. She didn't have to ask twice before he captured her mouth with his again. When his tongue begged for entrance, she let him in willingly.
Even when they needed air, Sam didn't let up. He wanted to savor this; to remember them, right here, like this. They finally parted, both gasping for air but with pleased looks on their faces.
She leaned forward and pecked his lips before opening the door and sliding out of the truck. He would have accompanied her to the door, but he was in a trance. All he could do was touch his lips and stare. When she was safe inside, he drove home staying the in the middle of the lanes, using his turning signals and stopping at all the stop signs, almost completely sobered from the experience.
Sam had a funny feeling walking into McKinley the next morning. He was one hundred percent sure he'd done something he shouldn't have. He felt like a lot of kissing went down, but shrugged it off; because it was a party, and he was pretty sure they played Spin the Bottle. But he felt strange. Good strange, like something awesome happened, but he was awful at remembering things he did when even a little tipsy.
He met the rest of the glee club in the hallway, where Artie was distributing Bloody Marys. As soon as he'd seen Mercedes, he was about ninety five percent sure he kissed her, and it excited him. The five percent of uncertainty lay in the fact that he'd dreamt about doing it on many occasions, and it could have been another, though vivid, dream. When they locked eyes, she gave him the most pleasant smile her hangover would allow.
Sam fought off a frown. Her smile was the pleasant, oh-look-it's-my-cool-friend smile. Not the we-made-out-and-I-totally-loved-it smile. He expected her to either avert her eyes from remembering, or the give him the aforementioned smile. He did not expect her to look like nothing happened.
After school, and the disastrous Tik Tok performance, he caught up to her in the parking lot, as he hadn't had a chance to get her alone all day.
"Hey you," he said, trying to act and sound normal.
"Hey Sam. What's up?" she answered, searching her purse for her keys.
"Last night was crazy, huh?" he asked, hoping to trigger something.
"Last night? Hell, this morning was crazy. I know I already said it, and then broke it, but I am never drinking again. Seriously this time," she said, finding her keys and pulling them out.
"I feel the same way." He tried to hide the disappointment he felt. She obviously blacked out and didn't remember a thing. "On another note, we hanging out this weekend?"
"Name the time and place," she said, smiling and heading off to her car.
Sam sighed and looked at the sky. Maybe this was good. Kissing her was a slip up, and it was a good thing the memory was murky to him; otherwise he'd obsess over it. More than he already was, anyway.