Hi! So, believe it or not, I actually did mean to mark this complete because the idea just came to me, and I had no idea where to go with it. But because of the feedback/alerts, I decided to just continue it and see what happens! I don't have much to say about the chapter except I hope you enjoy it. I haven't written fanfiction for at least 5 years, so I'm rusty. Thanks again for the support! Also, if it wasn't clear, in this interpretation of the story, the men have no say in the "transformation" of their wives, so to speak. Italics = Flashbacks. Oh, and I apologize for technical mistakes.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the Stepford Wives.
"What are you doing?"
Sam paused in the middle of putting on his jacket and stared at Mercedes, who already had the front door partially open, purse in hand.
"Putting on my jacket, cause you said we needed groceries…" he answered, confused. She gave him a blank stare for several seconds, before giving him the light, fake giggle he'd grown to detest.
"You don't need to go with me, silly. Stay here and relax!"
"But we always go shopping together," he said, dropping his shoulders like a disappointed kid. Her artificial smile stayed in place and she shook her head at him.
"Oh, you." With that, she was gone.
Sam let out a sigh and after standing in the foyer for about a minute; he walked into the living room and sat on the couch. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when it came to her new behavior. Maybe it would wear off? Maybe she'd wake up one morning and snap out of it? But nothing was changing, and he was beginning to get depressed.
"So, I'm not a psychic, but I'm pretty sure we won't need six boxes of Trix," Mercedes said, putting them back on the shelf not five seconds after Sam had deposited them into the cart.
"Mercy! We need extra for emergencies!" he said, whining and jumping up and down. She stared at him with a shocked expression, mouth open and eyes wide.
"Sam! Are you five?" He stilled and gave her a serious look.
"Five and a half," he countered, folding his arms. She laughed and shook her head before pushing the cart further down the aisle.
He caught up to her, wrapped his long arms around her waist from behind, and rested his head on her shoulder. He tried to move his legs at the same time as her when she kept moving so he could stay in that position and the result was them awkwardly bounding down the aisle with him accidentally stepping on her heels.
She stopped walking and turned her head to look up at him.
"Do you mind?" she said, raising an eyebrow. He squeezed tighter. "Sam…"
Before she could express her annoyance, he covered her lips with his own in a kiss, smiling into it until the corners of her own mouth lifted as well. He pulled away and kissed her cheek, then jaw, then upper neck, then…
Someone loudly cleared their throat, causing Sam to look up and lock eyes with a woman in her mid-40's with an irritated look on her face, gripping a shopping cart that held a small child staring at them and hugging a box of Trix.
Mercedes dipped her head due to intense blushing and muttered a 'Sorry' before moving on down the aisle. Sam grinned sheepishly at the woman and ruffled her child's hair.
"Nice choice," he said, pointing to the Trix box and skipping after Mercedes. The woman huffed and continued in the opposite direction, ignoring her son's protests for more cereal.
"Why do I feel like I just stepped out of a time machine and into the 1950's? And not the glamorous, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Moulin Rouge 50's, the woman-belong-in-the-kitchen and-on-their-knees, anti-diversity 50's," Kurt said, folding his arms and scanning the 'Carrington Annual Spring Picnic' and with a raised, judgmental eyebrow.
"Kurt…come on. I think it's charming," Blaine said, sipping on his lemonade.
Kurt and Blaine were newly-weds and had been moved into Carrington for only a few hours now. Blaine had convinced his husband to come to the picnic to try and meet some of their neighbors.
"And why is everyone smiling? How freaky is that?" Kurt added, making his way over to the buffet set up under a large tray. Blaine rolled his eyes and followed.
"Maybe it's because people are happy?"
"And once again, I'm overdressed." Blaine chuckled and gave Kurt a look that said 'When are you not?'
Sam was feeling underdressed and out of place, but he didn't have an excuse to leave the picnic, as Mercedes was speaking to the other wives about things he was sure he wouldn't care about. He walked over to the buffet and grabbed a bunch of crackers, hoping to pass the time by stuffing his face.
Kurt and Blaine noticed the blond clad in a Green Lantern t-shirt, jeans ripped at the knees, and dirty converse because like them (especially Kurt), he stuck out like a sore thumb.
"Well hell there," Kurt said, walking up closer to Sam, followed by his husband, who shot him a wave. Sam paused and turned red, because at the moment, he'd been stuffing about six crackers into his mouth at once. He stuck his large hand out for Kurt and Blaine to shake, and once he swallowed, he spoke.
"Hi. Sorry about that," he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Kurt just laughed it off.
"I can see you're enjoying yourself as much as we are."
Sam laughed and shook his head.
"I've been ready to go home for a while now. Is it that obvious?" Kurt nodded, and Blaine gave a sympathetic smile.
"I also noticed you seem to be the only male here without an affinity for khakis, polos, and socks in sandals," the brunet said, earning another laugh from Sam. "I'm Kurt, and this is Blaine, my husband. We literally just moved here."
"Oh. Well uh, welcome to Carrington. My wife and I have been here for about a month now," Sam said, smiling.
"Which one's your wife?" Blaine asked. Sam motioned to Mercedes, who was several feet away, enthralled in a conversation with another woman about casserole.
"She's fabulous. You have wonderful taste in women," Kurt praised.
"Isn't that…wait. You're Sam Evans!" Blaine exclaimed suddenly. Sam grinned and nodded.
"Guilty." Kurt's eyes widened and he started flailing his hands around excitedly.
"How did I not realize that was Mercedes Jones! I have to meet her!" Kurt inwardly cursed himself for not recognizing Sam, as he spent a large portion of his nights on celebrity gossip sites. Sam was always in at least half of the paparazzi shots with Mercedes, holding her hand on the sidewalk, getting into a town car, or caught in an embrace.
Kurt was already making his way across the park to speak to her, and Sam was left at the buffet table with Blaine.
"So why'd you guys leave the city?" Blaine asked, still trying to make conversation.
"We were ready to settle down. We want to have some kids. And it's nice to get away from all the paparazzi and loud city folk, you know?" Sam said, nibbling on a cracker. Blaine nodded in understanding.
"Totally. By the way, I'm actually a big fan. I secretly read your books. I slip a paper bag over them in public," he mentioned, earning a laugh from Sam at the visual of the grown man sneaking around with books about kid superheroes.
"Kurt and I want to have kids soon too, and I plan to read them to her. They're awesome," he added.
"Thanks! I'm glad you like them so much. Mercy reads them too, so you're not alone," Sam replied, a grin still in place. He looked at the group of ladies straight ahead, and realized they were leading Kurt off toward the mansion in which the Women's Club met every week.
"Where are they going?" Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I think he just became an honorary housewife," Sam said, causing Blaine to chuckle.
Sam was glad to hear Blaine found that amusing, because that way he knew the poor guy had missed the worry in his tone. Anything having to do with the Women's Club gave him an awful feeling at the pit of his stomach.
"Would you like a foot massage?" Mercedes asked later on after a couple hours of sitting in silence their family room while the Sci-Fi channel was on. He would laugh at certain things, and she would look at the movie with a blank stare the whole time.
"No thanks," he said, instinctively taking his feet off of the coffee table.
"I'll get started on dinner then," she said cheerfully, before getting up and disappearing into the kitchen.
Sam let out a sigh, and threw his head back. He knew he had to do something soon, because he could not spend the rest of his life with this Mercedes…clone.
Suddenly, he realized it was like he was in a sci-fi movie. He had to do something.
"Jimmy Stewart would not sit here and do nothing!" he said aloud, cutting off the television and standing. He went into the kitchen, where Mercedes was seasoning a roast.
"Yes, dear?" she said, looking up.
"Who are you and what have you done with my wife?" he demanded, resting his hand on the counter across from her.
"I'm sorry?" she was still smiling. "Samuel, stop being silly."
"Stop talking to me like that! In that…condescending…robot voice!" He was getting more frustrated by the second, especially because her expression was unchanging.
"How would you like me to speak to you?" she asked sweetly.
"Like Mercedes! I'm going crazy trying to figure out who you are, because you're not my wife. I don't know who you are." He looked at the dinner she was preparing. "You don't even know how to make a roast! What happened to you? What happened to your smile? Your real smile: the smile that would translate throughout your whole face and make your eyes sparkle and your skin glow? And your laugh? Not this fake ass giggle you have now that I swear if I hear again, I'll shove my finger in the wall socket. I mean the laugh that used to pull me out of any funk I was in and remind me how happy I was to have you? The laugh that made being away from you for that short time in Kentucky during high school almost bearable. I could just call you and hear it and feel…complete."
His eyes were pleading, but she still had this blank look on her face that made him want to jump off of a cliff.
"It's like you don't feel anything anymore," he said, the volume of his voice returning to normal. He went around the counter and stood behind her, placing his hand on her side and running it up to the spot below her left breast. She didn't even make a sound.
"You used to shiver whenever I touched you there. Or here…" he said, lowering his mouth to the spot behind her earlobe. That spot never failed to elicit a moan from Mercedes and would usually make her wet in an instant. The woman before him once again, didn't budge.
She turned around and looked at him.
"Are you done spouting silly nonsense?" she asked, pinching his cheek. His mouth dropped a little and he shook his head. He needed to get some kind of reaction out of her to convince himself that she was still at least human. After staring at her for several seconds, he pulled her flush against him and kissed her as passionately as he could in that moment. She kissed back, but there was nothing in it; no passion, no need, nothing meaningful at all. It was empty. He pulled away, looking into her now lifeless eyes and sighed.
"Yeah. I'm done," he said, walking out of the kitchen trying to ignore the burning sensation behind his eyes.