Author's Note: Kudos to y'all for catching that this is based on Empire Records! I can't say that the Glee characters will fit exactly into all the character profiles from the movie as some characters' qualities will be distributed amongst a select few, but most should, which brings me to the disclaimer:

None of these characters belong to me, the storyline is tweaked and twisted, but borrowed, too. However, the way they express themselves from words to actions is all me and my imagination.

Enjoy!

Chapter 2

Mercedes was humming Bryan Ryan's latest single "Stay with Me, Just Say Oui" to herself from the other end of the table as she read over her notes, pausing every so often to highlight a word or phrase. Sam would have normally rolled his eyes at anything having to do with the cheesy song or the singer, but hearing the notes emerge from Mercedes' register made them sound better, so he allowed it without complaint.

Will returned to the backroom and zoned in on him. "Sam, Sugar called in. Since you've already been hanging around here all day for some reason," he tilted his head to the fastidious student, "Do you want to work tonight? I have to leave around seven and I need someone to lock up."

"Yeah!" he replied, more eager than he intended, and rushed to correct himself, "Yeah, I could use the money."

Smirking, Will nodded and went back out to the store front. The fact that he even let Sugar lock up the store was almost laughable, but she was always good about it, unlike some other members of the staff.

"How's stuff at home?" Mercedes asked once they were alone again, catching his eyes. She had been there from the beginning of the Evans downward spiral into brokenness and the subsequent haphazard bandaging of relationships.

Sam shrugged. "Same. Stacy and Stevie are being groomed for greatness, my parents are hounding me about school. Quinn comes around, maybe, once a month—that's frequent for her." Knowing some of their history, Will had taken to scheduling Sam and Quinn overlapping shifts as often as he could so they'd see each other more.

"On or off with Puck?"

"I stopped keeping track," he replied with a dry chuckle.

Puck used to work at Castle Records, but quit over a year ago when he decided to go full steam ahead with his band, Hawksaw. The group had gotten highly successful on the local circuit, and they were starting into look into going bigger while they still had momentum. He and Quinn had hit it off immediately when they met at the shop, having gotten hired at the same time three years ago. Their parents hadn't been too thrilled with her spending time with the Mohawk-sporting rocker, claiming he was changing her from a polished princess to "goth chic," as they put it.

If they'd paid attention, they would have seen that Quinn always had a wilder side. The only reason they thought she was into the frou-frou was because they said so. Cutting her long blonde tresses into a choppy, messy bob had been the first strike, the changes in wardrobe—mostly additions of moto jackets and non-pastels—had been the second, and her refusal to continue to be a doormat convinced them she was a lost cause.

Sam had learned to pacify them, always ready to spout out his rehearsed five-year plan whenever they questioned his educational intentions. It had been two years since he graduated from McKinley High, and even though he told them and everyone else he was saving up money to go to the local university with his friends, the truth was that he didn't know what the fuck he was going to do. He had no interest in attending a traditional college, and after seeing how they tore Quinn apart, he was afraid to even voice the possibility of taking a different route. Exerting the power of the delay had been his best strategy of deflection.

"Hey guys!" a bubbly voice broke the intimacy of their conversation as Rachel Berry strolled in with the usual bounce in her step.

"Hey," both Sam and Mercedes said, but he noticed the dullness in her tone and gave her a look.

The relationship between Mercedes and Rachel was touch and go at best. There was an underlying level of competition that neither admitted to, but all knew was there. Rachel had a bad habit of flaunting her talents and taking things that didn't belong to her, whether it was credit or a man, and seemed to have no problem sleeping at night. Mercedes preferred the more honorable path, but sometimes felt as if Rachel was stepping all over her because she wasn't forcing attention on herself.

It was Mercedes' dream to front a band, if only for a night to see what it was like. The only person who knew about this was Sam and Santana. If Rachel found out, she'd be trying to find a way to make it happen for herself, and then give Mercedes advice on how to go about doing it like she did her a favor. She'd gone to a couple of Hawksaw rehearsals just for fun and they had jam sessions at Castle every now and then. There, she often had a chance to shine, despite Rachel, but her stage fright made it difficult to step out beyond the band members and select friends.

"Is it just us tonight?" the preppy brunette asked, peering at the schedule as she grabbed one of the lanyards bearing her name tag. "Sam, you're not on tonight. You worked this morning."

"Sugar called in, I'm covering for her."

Mercedes closed her books and began packing them up, seeing that it was 5:45. "Blaine is coming later, I think," she said as she approached the lockers close to where Rachel stood.

"Still studying, I see," she commented as Mercedes put the books away.

"Always studying. I've got a GPA to maintain or else I'll lose my scholarship."

"That's very studious of you, Mercedes. It's nice to see you working so hard."

It took everything in her to keep her face from twitching. As opposed to what? She always worked hard. It was the Jones way. Give it one hundred percent, one-twenty if you could manage. She put on a strained grin, "You know the saying. Work hard, play hard."

Sam reached over Mercedes' head to grab his lanyard from one of the coat hangers and she scrunched her nose up, promptly setting Rachel on the backburner.

"Watch those pits, Evans," she said.

"What? Do I stink?" he replied, making a show of smelling himself.

"I wasn't smelling you!" Mercedes laughed.

"'Sup, peasants!" Puck exclaimed, walking through the back door, dressed in his typical attire of blue jeans and a band tee. "Is Quinn here? I saw her scooter outside."

"Up front," Sam answered, using his thumb to point to the door.

"Awesome, thanks." Without another word, the bandleader brushed past them to find her.

Mercedes turned to Sam. "So, I guess they're on?" He responded with another shrug. There was no telling.

The four—Blaine, Sam, Mercedes and Rachel—spent the majority of their shift entertaining themselves as it was a slow Tuesday night. After crowds swarmed to buy the new releases, they gradually dropped off throughout the day, and by 10:00 p.m., it was down to a customer here and there. Castle didn't close until midnight, so there was time to be wasted.

Sam drew caricatures of some of their regular customers, egged on by Mercedes, while Blaine and Rachel sang duets at the piano. Sam offered to give Mercedes a ride home in his truck after Santana left at nine, knowing there was no chance she'd go with Rachel, and Blaine had taken the bus.

Being this close to her in a confined area usually made him nervous, especially at night. Something about the clear, starry sky and the soft music on the radio put him in a romantic mood and he had to keep himself under control or else he'd scare her off by reciting sonnets in her name or something crazy like that.

"Is there a particular reason you take this road whenever we drive back after a night shift?" she inquired, looking over at him with tired brown eyes and a smile to match.

"You have a problem with spending a little more time with me or somethin'?" he asked jokingly.

Mercedes laughed softly, tilting her head down and away from him. If Sam didn't know better, he'd say she was blushing. Couldn't be. "No," she said, "It's so out of the way, I was just wondering."

"It's prettier out here, don't you think? With the lake over there and the moon and the smooth jazz on the radio," Mercedes snorted at that and he grinned, "It's a nice way to end the day."

His coworker smiled again, looking out of the passenger side window at the water that was stretched out alongside their path, expanding outward. "It is a pretty nice way to end the day," she agreed, "Smooth jazz and all."

Sam pushed his hair back off his forehead, completely missing Mercedes' eyes on him as he did so. She licked her lips and quickly averted her gaze before he looked her way again.

"Hey, Sam..." she said, drifting off as if she'd changed her mind about what she planned to say halfway through. He raised his eyebrows at her, signaling her to go on. "I, uh...I was just thinking that you're going to make someone really happy someday."

His brow furrowed. "Am I not doing that already?"

"Besides me. That's understood. We're like peanut butter and jelly."

"What if I don't want to make anyone else happy?" he asked quietly.

"Impossible," Mercedes said earnestly, "You're destined to bring joy wherever you go. Believe that."

"Could she be any more amazing and heartbreaking all at the same time?" Sam thought. "Right back at you, Mercy."

They were silent for the rest of the journey to Mercedes' house, shrouded by unsaid words and unscrambled feelings. It was something about the night sky full of stars that made people want to be more honest with each other and themselves, but also that much more fearful of taking the leap of faith into the unknown, risking breakage of the pretty picture they'd been enjoying so peacefully before.

As Sam watched her walk up the driveway to her front door, he wasn't sure if the regret was worth it.