Disclaimer: I own none of Glee, but I manage to find joy all the same.
A/N: Thanks for all the comments; I'm glad you're enjoying this story!
Chapter 2: The Simple Facts of Life are Such
In which Mercedes finds out the game is up, Sam realizes he has no game, and Finn starts to think he's playing the wrong one.
The first thing Mercedes did the morning after Rachel's party was to call Kurt.
Actually, that's not entirely accurate.
The first thing Mercedes did the morning after Rachel's party—outside of her usual morning routine—was to read a text message that Sam had sent before he headed to his summer day job at the Lima Rec Center. The message said your kiss w/Finn was hotter, followed by a second message that read can't wait to see you tomorrow &hearts, the end of which Mercedes thought was strange, but endearing. Then, since she had her phone in her hand, and she needed to talk to someone about the public events of the evening—even if he didn't know what had gone on in private, afterwards, when she and Sam were parked by the lake in her Jeep—she called Kurt, who cut her off before she could even get out the "h" in her "hi!"
"I know."
Her face felt hot and her throat felt tight. "What?" she finally managed to squeak out.
"I know about you and Sam, Mercedes, so don't try to hide it from me anymore. Lucky for you, I woke an extra half hour early this morning and have already completed my skin care regimen, so I'm free for breakfast before you go to work if you want to talk."
Mercedes couldn't tell if Kurt was angry or amused—or some mixture of both—but she did know that he was not going to let this go gently. She ran over the events of the evening again in her head. Maybe he'd seen all of the looks she and Sam thought they were so cleverly hiding?
"Well?"
It really didn't matter how he'd figured it out; he knew, and that was that. "OK." Mercedes looked at the clock. 8:15. She was supposed to help open the boutique at 10. "Lima Bean? 30 minutes?"
"See you then. And I expect details." He hung up the phone, and Mercedes sat down on the bed and tried to figure out what had just happened.
It had been her idea to keep things quiet, although Sam hadn't objected. The glee club was full of gossip—Mercedes herself being a connoisseur of the finer bits—and they both just wanted to see where things would go before going public. It seemed innocent enough at the time, and since they'd started dating as the school year came to a close, it was easy to hide. Their parents and siblings knew, of course, but that was it. Rachel's party was the first night they'd been together in assembled glee club company and those two or three hours of not touching or kissing had proven ineffective. The secret was out.
Mercedes sent Sam a text message as she gathered her purse and keys. On my way to LB to meet K. Don't know how but he knows.
Kurt was waiting for her when she got to the coffee shop. He was hurt—and curious—but once she'd explained the whys and wherefores, curiosity won out over the hurt. Two coffees, a scone, and a mild tongue lashing later, they were laughing as Kurt shared the events that transpired after she and Sam had made their getaway, how Brittany had coaxed them to get back to the game, which resulted in Puck sharing an awkward kiss with Blaine and Rachel smooching with Santana who then had to kiss Finn, which sparked a ridiculous argument between Finn and Rachel about whether it was cheating for two members of a couple to kiss the same person.
"I'm glad I missed that," Mercedes said. "Rachel's my friend, but sometimes she's just too much."
Kurt nodded. "And just what were you two in such a hurry to do? You guys practically flew up those stairs. By the way," he took a sip of his coffee, "tell Sam that he needs to keep his hands off your assets if he wants to keep your relationship secret."
"We had things to discuss," she said primly, desperate to keep from giggling. "And Sam's hands didn't actually touch my ass then—did they?"
Kurt laughed. "No, they didn't—but they were close." Kurt got quiet, his face all serious and concerned. "Are you happy? Does he treat you right?"
Mercedes cocked her head as she answered "Of course he does. You know I don't suffer fools. And yes, I'm really, really happy." She grinned a wide grin, and she and Kurt raised their coffees in a toast.
"I have to admit I did doubt my detective skills when the kissing game started. I figured you would be visibly furious about anyone kissing your man."
"I thought I would be, too, but watching Tina kiss him was really sweet and—" her voice trailed off to a mumble as she took a deep sip of her coffee.
"Really sweet and what?" Kurt asked playfully, eager to find out why she was so clearly undone now.
"kindahot" she said quickly, then rose to toss the empty cup and bus her plate.
Kurt followed her. "Kinda hot, Miss Jones?" He stared at her, one perfectly shaped eyebrow cocked in great interest.
She nodded matter-of-factly.
Kurt pressed further. "And what about when he kissed Finn?"
Mercedes pretended to weigh her answer, although Kurt could see that she was about to explode. "YOu would think that since Finn was involved, the whole thing would have been a hot mess," she began, "but I have to say that comparatively speaking, watching my man kiss Finn was about ten times hotter." She squealed, no longer able to contain the unexpected thrill she'd felt at the whole experience. She waited for Kurt to gather his belongings and then headed out to her car.
Shoulder to shoulder, they leaned against the jeep's rear bumper. "You really did enjoy that, then?" he asked, as though her answer was entirely unexpected.
Merecedes nodded. "Yeah. Really. It was like seeing two sides of him, sides I don't get to see when I'm kissing him because I'm kissing him, you know?" She looked at Kurt, who was trying to follow. "He looked so sweet and peaceful when Tina kissed him, and it reminded me of how it felt when he kissed me that first time." She was looking down at her shoes, surprised she was speaking so freely to Kurt about what she hadn't yet been able to articulate to Sam.
"And Finn?" Kurt asked.
Mercedes bit her bottom lip. "Sam owned that kiss. He was so powerful, so sure of himself, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be kissing Finn right then and there. And Finn—"
"—just let him." Kurt finished the sentence for her, and they stood for a moment in silence.
"It didn't really mean anything," Mercedes offered. She took Kurt's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She knew that river hadn't really run dry—wouldn't ever, really—but she also knew that Kurt valued the brotherly friendship he now had with Finn more than anything else.
The alarm on Mercedes' phone went off. She needed to get over to the boutique. Kurt gave her a quick hug. "You know you can talk to me about anything? Right?"
Mercedes nodded and added "Ditto." She got into the jeep and drove away, waving at Kurt in her rear view mirror. They really hadn't spent much time together this summer. She was going to have to do something about that.
###
Sam couldn't call Mercedes until his lunch break, which, when he thought about it, was a pretty good indicator of how much of a non-event Kurt's knowledge of their relationship was to him. Since he hadn't received any frantic calls or texts—or any other messages of any kind at all—he expected a pretty calm girlfriend when he finally got the chance to ring her at work.
"—said, hell no you don't!" Mercedes laughed as she answered the phone. "Hi Sam."
"Just you and Misty there today?"
"You know it. Irene would tan my hide if she heard me talking like that." Mercedes motioned to Misty that she was going to the office. "How many little darlings have you rescued today?"
Sam spent his days as a lifeguard at the Lima Recreation Center, a position that got his family reduced rates for the summer day camp for Stevie and Stacy. He was glad for the work, but he didn't much enjoy being the target of preteen affections, especially after one of the regulars recognized him from his Justin Bieber Experience gigs. After that, there'd been a rash of mysterious swim injuries, all of which required his lifeguardly attentions.
"Only 4 today," he sighed. "It's tough to be a sex god."
Mercedes chuckled. "When you start your first grownup sex riot, we'll evaluate your god status. Until then, don't get too full of yourself, Blondie." She smiled and bit her bottom lip in anticipation of his response.
"You seemed to have a lot to scream about last night when my tongue was—"
"Samuel Evans! You'd better watch your mouth!" Mercedes was screaming with laughter. "Think of the children!"
"Oh, shit! The door!" He'd left open the office door, just beyond which was a gaggle of prepubescent swimmers whispering and giggling and pointing. He quickly closed the door, realizing after doing so that he was in effect giving the girls more things to giggle about. His back to the wall, he slid down to sit on the floor. "I've got no game."
"Oh, you have game, baby. You're just stuck in Little League at the moment." She laughed. "If you work extra hard, though, I might bump you up to the minors." Mercedes grabbed a soda from the fridge in the office. "So I talked to Kurt today."
"How did he know?"
"He's suspected for a long time, but your grabby hands last night were the final bit of evidence he needed."
"You OK?"
"I think so. I mean, I'm glad to finally be able to talk to him about it." He could hear her eyes get a little sadder, could sense her fingers fiddling with the tape measure she wore around her neck while at the boutique.
"We don't have to tell anyone else if you don't want to."
Mercedes sighed. "Nah. It's really OK. I just really enjoyed having you to myself for a while."
Sam picked at a tear in the worn office carpet. "You can have me to yourself any time you want. You know that."
She nodded. "I know. It's just different when everybody else knows, like it's not just you and me anymore, but everybody is part of it now."
Sam was shaking his head as he walked over to his locker to get his lunch. "I'm not dating the glee club, Mercy, and neither are you. As long as we're open and honest with each other, nothing can come between us. OK?"
Mercedes grabbed a tissue to dab at her eyes. Damn boy has no idea how much game he actually has, she thought. "Deal. Now get back out there and try not to be so gorgeous? Somebody could get hurt."
"Damnit, Mercy! I'm a sex god, not a—"
"Cool, it, Bones. You know I love you, but that? That is exactly why you have no game. Everybody knows Spock is way sexier."
Sam was stunned. She loved him? And she knew about— "Have you been watching Trek without me?"
"You'll have to check my Netflix history to find out." Mercedes glanced at the office computer and thought about watching a few episodes while she did her afternoon's alterations. Maybe it would take her mind off of the fact that she'd just blurted out to Sam that she loved him, and he'd said nothing back.
"Breakfast tomorrow?"
"7:30 sharp."
"Great! I'll bring some OJ. And Mercy?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you too." Sam hung up the phone and kissed it before putting it into his pocket. Not the way he'd wanted to tell her, but exactly the thing he wanted to say in the moment he'd said it. Satisfied, he grabbed his lunch, pulled out the newest Spiderman, and enjoyed being Sam Evans, Gameless Lover of Mercedes Jones.
###
Finn was thinking about conjunctions.
He'd spent the better part of the morning doing oil changes and tune ups. Fridays were particularly busy during the summer at Burt's garage, and Finn appreciated the opportunity to earn some extra cash and spend time with the new members of his family. Today, though, Kurt was in a funk and had locked himself in the office to do some bookkeeping, and Burt and his mom were away for the weekend. This was good, actually, because today Finn's head was full of things that he didn't want to think or talk about, and since he didn't want to think or talk about them, all he could think about (and, he feared, talk about) were those precise things.
Sometimes he wished that life was as simple as math problems, not like trig or anything, but the stuff that made sense, like addition and subtraction. But people weren't numbers—they were more like words or nouns, they had meanings, they could move around. Like the new sign Burt had ordered for the garage—"Hummel and Sons". Math with words. A few minutes of thinking in that direction and Finn found himself contemplating conjunctions and compounds.
"Rachel and Finn." He smiled.
"Rachel or Finn." Nah, that didn't make any sense. Neither did "Rachel yet Finn" or "Rachel so Finn" or "Rachel but Finn" or "Rachel nor Finn," although "Rachel for Finn" sounded good. He reversed the order of their names, clicking off the FANBOYS one by one, wrinkling his brow or laughing at the absurdity of each permutation of their connection. It wasn't long before he'd moved up to compound sentences.
What had Rachel said to him a week ago, when they were making out, deep into negotiations about heading to home plate? "I want to be with you, but I'm going to New York after graduation." For the first time, Finn got what his English teacher meant when she said that conjunctions color the meaning of the words they're connected to. No matter how true the part at the start of the sentence might be, what comes after a "but" means it's not totally true, not at all.
"She's not my type, but—" How many times had that thought run through his head since he'd kissed Mercedes the night before? Worse, he'd been repeating the start of another sentence-"I'm not gay, but…"—as he turned over exactly what it had meant that he'd been kissed by—and enjoyed being kissed by—Sam. He knew that the kisses were just part of the game, but he found that he couldn't quite shake them off. Maybe the oil fumes were getting to him.
He grabbed a soda and sat out on the sidewalk in front of the garage door, returning to safer territory, playing the conversation he'd had with Rachel after Nationals back in his head.
"I'm going to New York, and I'm never coming back."
He wondered if—or how—he was supposed to join himself to her declaration, if there was any room or hope for a "but" or a "so" or an "or." He realized he'd never really thought beyond graduation, not about them at least, and "Rachel and Finn" just seemed like a block of being without a clear purpose or future, while Rachel was an I with a plan. Was he an I with a plan, or was he planning to tack himself on to the sentence of her life without giving more thought to his own?
This deep, deep thinking—which another person might have seen as evidence, perhaps, of the awesome power of words—was interrupted by the arrival of yet another customer in need of an oil change or a tune up or new windshield wipers. Finn, desperate to stop the aching in his head, tuned the radio station to NPR and cranked it up, the well-modulated voices of the reporters and commentators providing enough words to mask the strange blending of phrases and clauses bouncing around in his brain as he tried to find the right connectors to hold them together.