Disclaimer: On first page

A/N: Sorry this took so long to post. I was going to post it last night, but something came up. To make up for it, I lengthened this chapter a thousand words! Thank you guys for the continued positive response, I love reading and responding to your reviews, it makes me feel connected. Enjoy!

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Sam woke up to see the first rays of the day peeking through the curtains. He frowned, slightly; it was just a reminder that soon he would have to let the beautiful girl peacefully slumbering in his arms go. Drawing her closer to him, he buried his face in her soft hair, smiling when he realized she still used the same lavender shampoo.

Some things don't change, he thought to himself. Sam always woke up about twenty minutes before she did, and fell asleep about twenty minutes after. He never understood why their clocks worked like that, but he didn't mind- in fact, he liked it that way. He liked to think that it was his inner gentleman letting her drift off first and then waking up to watch over her in the morning.

But he understood that this was not just a regular morning; they were not dating, they weren't even speaking to each other until twelve hours ago. He really could not predict how Mercedes would react to this, though something told him it would not be nearly as well as he had. He was surprised with how quickly she had warmed up to him last night, but they both had a bit of liquid courage in their system, so who knew?

Sam decided to savor whatever time he had before they would need to confront the issue. He couldn't help but notice that her body still melted into his; her back to his front, the perfect spooning partners. They hadn't even fallen asleep in that position, it was as if their bodies had memories of all those nights and naturally shifted. He trailed the lightest touch across the soft skin of her arm and smiled as she snuggled back closer to him- it was remarkable, like they hadn't been apart a day.

He lay there enjoying the feel of her soft, warm body and rhythmic breathing- it was almost soothing. He hadn't realized how much he had missed this; it used to be one of his favorite parts of the day. Listening to the sounds of her slumber, he let his eyes wander around the room. When he saw it, it immediately took him back.

It was the summer he stayed with her in Boston. He was sitting at the desk, editing a new comic submission when she burst through the door of the small apartment, frustrated. Sam stifled a laugh when she dropped her bag and flopped back on their bed, melodramatically. "What's wrong, babe?" he inquired, only to receive a grunt in reply. Saving his work, he climbed onto the bed and pulled her into his lap. "Tell me," he coaxed, kissing the top of her head.

"You know the class I'm taking on branding?" she began, with an exasperated sigh, "Professor Davidson says that if I want to be a memorable artist, I need something more." Mercedes let her head drop back onto Sam's shoulder, "I mean, I have a nearly four octave vocal range, I write and arrange my own music, and I'm a classically trained pianist, all while being black and fabulous," she huffed, "if that doesn't set me apart, nothing will."

Sam looked down at her, biting back a grin. "You are something else, Mercy. Unique and talented with a style all your own, never forget that." He thought a minute, and his face lit up. "Babe, I got it!"

Mercedes turned around to face him, her legs in his lap. "You've got what?" she asked, her curious expression tinged with suspicion.

"Right now," he began, "you're honing your skill to become a specific type of artist, right?" Seeing her nod her head, he continued, "What if there could be a duality to that?" He gently removed her legs from his lap before going and picking up his guitar.

"How?"

"Mercy, if I taught you to play this, think of the possibilities: you would have the ability to be that powerful balladeer who strokes the ivory keys and the warm artist who makes sold out stadiums feel like intimate shows because of the way she croons while strums on her guitar." He sat back, satisfied.

She stared at him for a minute, blankly. He was afraid she hated the idea when he saw a tear roll down her face. His breath caught in his chest as he reached over and wiped it off, starting to apologize for his stupid idea when she swatted at his hand. "Samuel Evans don't you dare apologize!"

"I thought-"

"You, my love, are a genius. And if you can stand having a stubborn, melodramatic, know-it-all like me as a student, I'd love for you to teach me." She grabbed his hands and smiled at him, her big brown eyes filled with tears. His heart swelled and all he could do was kiss her.

Thus began three months of almost daily guitar lessons; his girlfriend was a fast learner. She picked up and mastered the basics in a little over two weeks. Her professor loved the idea, and he was thrilled. Not only did he get to watch her grow as an artist, he had a hand in that growth. It made him feel important and needed, and helped them grow even closer.

Which is why, when her birthday rolled around in August about two weeks before he had to go back to school, Sam knew exactly what he was going to give her. What he hadn't anticipated was her refusal to accept it.

"Sam!" Mercedes looked at him like he was crazy. "There is no way in hell I can accept this, you know that!"

He gave her a look of mock exasperation. "Mercy, you learned to play – quite masterfully, might I add – on this guitar, and I love you, so I want you to have it."

"That guitar is like your child, Sam!" Mercedes shook her head vigorously, hair flying. "I can go buy a guitar, it's not a big deal." She looked up at him with so much concern in her eyes that it made his heart ache, "That guitar is what got you through some of the most difficult times in your life," she said softly, "I can't take that from you."

Taking her gently by the shoulders, he looked her straight in the eye, "Mercedes Jones, all I need in this life is for you to go through it with me, happy and healthy. I don't consider this giving away my guitar, because as long as I have you, I'll also have it. I just want you to succeed, Troubletone." He stroked her cheek softly, "But I know that your success means us being apart sometimes. This way you'll always have a piece of me, and I'll have the satisfaction of knowing that in some small way, I'll have been a part of every step of that experience- even when I can't physically be there. So stop fussin', ya hear?" he drawled, getting a nod and sniffle-filled giggle from his girl.

Sam placed a tender kiss on her exposed shoulder before gently rolling off the bed and placing pillows where his body had been.

Mercedes would be not be a happy camper without her morning coffee, especially after a night like the last one. So he put on a shirt and some shorts and padded barefoot down the stairs to the kitchen. Sam found the cook prepping the breakfast platters that would be sent up to their rooms and asked if he could trouble him for a couple of mugs of coffee. Succeeding, he cautiously brought the mugs back up in the elevator, fearful of a spill, and cringed when the loud ding sounded upon reaching the top floor- he hoped it hadn't woken her.

Carefully carrying both mugs in his left hand, he opened the door gently as so not to wake her. To his surprise, Mercedes was already awake, sitting up and staring right back at him. She was a beautiful mess: hair slightly rumpled, wide-eyed and mouth gaping with a sheet clutched to her chest- he couldn't help but smile. "Rise and shine, Troubletone. Still two creams and one sugar, right?" Sam asked, placing the mug in her hands and not letting go until he was sure she had it. Mercedes took a long sip and stared intently into her mug before speaking.

"Good morning," she said quietly, placing her coffee on the nightstand and smoothing her hair into a single braid.

Sam moved to sit on the bed and frowned slightly when he noticed her tense up, almost imperceptibly. He decided not to broach the subject of last night quite so immediately. "Is the coffee okay?"

"It's fine, thank you," she replied, stiffly.

Fuck she's shutting me out already? He thought to himself, panicking slightly. "Listen, about last night, it-"

"Was a mistake? I know," she said dryly, staring fixedly at the opposite wall.

Taken aback, he tried to correct her. "No, I just don't want-"

"Anyone to see you leave? I agree. You should go back down to your room before the others start to wake up. Your clothes are on the chair." Mercedes sounded like a robot.

"Mercy…" he said softly, not believing what he was hearing. She turned to look at him, and the hurt in her eyes was like a knife in the chest. Without another word he gathered his clothes and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

As soon as she heard him padding away from the door, she collapsed into a sob. She slid under the covers and tried to get a little more sleep, but the pillow smelled like him: like Old Spice, and his cologne and something distinctly Sam. Mercedes practically flung herself out of bed and reached for a robe, barely tying it before Santana burst into her room. "Don't you knock, bitch?" she barked at the Latina.

"Only on alternate Saturdays," she replied sarcastically, "I guess you're shit outta luck." She sat on the edge of the bed; legs crossed, and raised an eyebrow at her visibly shaken friend. "So what's got you actin' like me?"

Mercedes was not in the mood to be interrogated by or share feelings with anyone at the moment, let alone a sarcastic, nosy Santana. "Nothing, alright?" she snapped, angrily.

"Is that so?"

Quite honestly, she was surprised Santana hadn't snapped back at her yet. That girl was known for her incredibly short fuse when it came to anyone except Brittany. She was also surprised she was pushing her buttons; they had been friends for a long time, and she knew to back off when she was being snippy. Mercedes turned to face her, hands on hips. "Yes. Nothing." She went back to organizing things for her shower.

"So I guess the fact that I just saw Sam slink away from your room like a dejected puppy with his tail tucked between his legs in nothing but his shirt and shorts while carrying his clothes from the previous night is nothing…" she said matter-of-factly while examining her nails.

Mercedes froze, her stomach sinking. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"Brittbrat always has a craving for Belgian waffles the morning after a long night of fun," Santana's eyes twinkled mischievously, "I was about to go down to the kitchen and make sure she would have some when I saw Trouty leave your room and walk down the stairs. Wanky."

Mercedes flopped down onto the bed next to Santana and let out a long breath, her face in her hands.

Santana softened, putting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Hey there, Wheezy. I didn't mean to make you upset, I just wanted to see if you were okay. I mean you guys go from that tragic breakup, to not speaking to…"

Snapping her head up, she glared at Santana "I'm fine, not that it's really any of your fucking business anyway…" she mumbled.

"Excuse you, Grumpy, but it is my business. When one of my best friends looks like she's been crying after her ex boyfriend leaves her room at the crack of dawn, that's my business. Don't you fucking tell me that it's not!" She cupped her friend's cheek and tilted her head up at her, "I love you, okay? I'm on your side."

Mercedes looked at her, contrite. "I'm sorry, San. It's just so confusing and awkward and I just thought for a second-" She paused, choked up and teary eyed, "I thought he-" the rest of her words were swallowed by loud, broken sobbing.

Santana was taken aback by her usually composed friend's emotion. Taking her in her arms, she held her until she calmed down. "Cede, what happened?" she asked, once she was able to speak.

It all came spilling out. Their first encounter before dinner, having to sit next to him, the electric leg brush, the fake text from Puck, the confrontation, the game of pool. All of it.

"How easy was it to forget about me?" Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, she immediately regretted asking the question. Vulnerability was not something she enjoyed, but she just had to know. Glancing up, she saw Sam had paled considerably and looked positively stricken. Her heart sunk. "That easy, huh?" She turned to leave before her tears fell when he gingerly placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Mercy…" he croaked. Sam looked like he was either about to cry or yell; his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were wide and wet with tears beneath his furrowed brows. "What kind of question is that?"

"A damn good one!" she snapped, her own eyes brimming with tears. Fuck, she hated crying. "Especially when your 'friend' drops off the face of the fucking earth!"

He sighed heavily, fixing her with a powerful gaze. She could barely tell if he was angry or sad. "That's fair." He broke the stare. "'You have to promise me that you will hear me out; no interruptions." Sam looked at her expectantly.

Not trusting her words in the moment, Mercedes swallowed painfully and nodded.

With a sigh, he sat miserably on a bar stool and raked his hand roughly through his hair, tugging at the tufts in the back before starting. "For a while after the day we broke up, I was a bundle of contradiction. I missed you so terribly that I was in physical pain, but my male pride told me that giving you that ultimatum was the right thing to do, that I was just protecting myself." He looked down guiltily, not daring to meet her eyes.

"After a couple of months I allowed myself to think about it, really think about it. I realized how fucking ridiculous I had been. I had asked way too much of you, especially when you already gave me so much." She took a seat on the neighboring stool and watched him grasp the edge of the bar until his knuckles were white. "Had I not been a moron, we probably could have moved on from it and been together, or at the very least be friends. By the time I got over myself and gathered the courage to contact you, I heard from Mike and Tina that you were leaving for London in a month." He sighed and looked up to meet her eyes for the first time since he began the explanation.

"After all I put you through, and then all the silence as I sorted myself out…I thought it would be really selfish of me to pop up and demand we start talking and fixing things right as you were starting a new journey. Besides, I figured you hated me." Sam laughed mirthlessly, and the regret in his eyes was making Mercedes' heart ache. "I was ashamed of my selfishness and cowardice. I was no longer a man that I wanted you to know, and I figured you'd be better off without me." He took her hand, and she let him.

"That is the honest to God truth, Mercy. I never forgot about you, not for one day. With each passing day that we didn't speak, I beat myself up about it more and more. If anything, the more time passed the more you filled my thoughts and dreams." Sam fixed her with a gaze so sincere she felt her cheeks grow warm. "It hurts me that you could ever think that I would forget you. You, Mercedes Jones, are unforgettable. Don't you dare doubt that."

She stared at her feet, taking a minute to let it all sink in. He hadn't ignored her; in fact he couldn't get her out of his head…was that even possible? Mercedes thought for sure that he had forgotten she existed and moved on. But he hadn't; yes, he had his issues that he had to work through, but he did that, and the only thing that kept them from connecting was timing. Timing. She looked up, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes meeting his.

He crushed her lips in what had to be the most bittersweet kiss they have ever shared.

"Santana Lopez, is that a tear?" Mercedes couldn't believe her eyes.

"Shut up, Cede! That damn boy and his beautiful fucking words…" she sniffled, composing herself. "So wait, he kissed you! And you ended up here? And-"

"Yes." She sighed, looking away.

Santana seethed. "Who the fuck does he think he is treating you like a booty call and leaving you to wake up alone? I'm gonna slice those stupid pink pillows off of his-"

"Santana!"

"What?" She was in a blind rage. "He spouted all of that apology shit and then hurt you all over again!" She went on one of her infamous Spanish tirades in which Mercedes was pretty sure she called Sam a few choice names.

"Santana!" Her friend stopped to look at her, cheeks red and eyes flashing with anger. "It wasn't exactly like that…"

"Then what was it like?"

"We, um…" Mercedes began to fiddle with her braid, suddenly shy. Damn this boy and his ability to make me into some meek little mouse she said to herself. "We kinda made love." She practically whispered the last part.

Santana squinted at her. "I figured that much when he left your room in his boxers."

"No, I don't mean it as 'we just had sex'. We made slow, passionate, emotionally connected, mind blowing love." She paused, looking down at her hands. "And he only left me in the morning to go down and get me coffee." Mercedes sighed, looking up at a shocked Santana. "He even remembered exactly how I take it, two creams and a sugar." She saw the understanding register in her friends face.

"That was harder." She saw her friend nod, distraught. "It was harder for you because you're not together, and it would have been better if he had just banged you and left because you wouldn't have had to feel." Santana softened and rubbed Mercedes' back in gentle circles.

"I still love him, San…"she whispered.

"I know, love. I know."

Sam nearly slammed the door to his room before remembering that Mike was sleeping next door. He caught himself and closed it gently. He punched the heavy wooden dresser, knowing the sharp pain that radiated in his knuckles would be the only thing to help him release his anger. Sucking on the cut the metal drawer pull gave him, he sat on the bed.

He hurt her. After two years of regret, months of painstakingly going over what he could possibly say to her to make her understand, and the miracle of miracles that was her consenting to spend time alone with him, he fucked it all up. That look in her eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life. As if the impersonal, monotonous tone in which she spoke to him coupled with that hollow look of pain in her eyes weren't enough, he was almost certain he heard a sob right before he descended the steps. He made her cry- he hated his own fucking guts right now, and had no doubt that she hated him as well.

Sam punched the dresser a second time, without thinking. Gasping in pain when he realized that he did it with the injured hand, he decided to drag his pathetic self into a shower. When the spray hit his cut, he winced. Somehow feeling physical pain helped him organize his thoughts, which on any other occasion was beneficial. Currently, however, it didn't matter whether his thoughts were organized or jumbled; they were miserable. He was miserable. He ruined all the ground he made because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants.

He knew Mercedes wasn't one of those girls who can just fuck an ex without emotional repercussions- her sensitivity is what he loved about her. And she wasn't just some ex he wanted to fuck 'for old times' sake' or anything; she meant so much to him. Not that his actions reflected that, of course. To think I ever imagined she would take me back, he thought to himself, bitterly. Not anymore. He'd be surprised if she even made eye contact with him after the way he treated her.

Stepping out of the shower, Sam dried himself off and stepped into a pair of boxers. Putting away the clothes he wore the night before, he took his suit out of the garment bag and laid it out before heading to the bathroom to blow his hair dry. He stepped back into the bedroom, only to be greeted by a smiling Puck seated comfortably on the foot of his bed. "What the fuck, man!" he exclaimed, startled.

"I knocked twice but you were pretty boy primping in the bathroom so I let myself in," he said, matter-of-factly. "So how'd it go with hot Mama last night? She was lookin' mighty fine in that dress-"

"I told you a thousand times, don't call her that," he growled, turning to close the closet door.

"Fair enough. But I just thought I'd let you know that I already know how it went. Your back looks like a scratchpost."

Sam spun around, his face hot. He totally forgot about his back. "Yes, Puck, good job. We had sex. I may have hurt her and alienated her permanently, but, hey, what does that matter, right?" He glowered in the direction of his mohawked friend.

Puck shot him a sympathetic look. "Dude, I had no idea, I didn't mean- I just thought you guys had sex after making up and getting back together or something. I'm sorry, what happened?"

After letting out a breath, Sam turned back to his friend. "It's fine, man. I didn't meant to blow up on you like I did." He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. "It's just that I didn't even think she'd agree to spend time with me. But she did, and we had fun. And holy shit, Puck, you didn't warn me! She's always been beautiful but she just looks phenomenal."

Puck grinned. "Yeah, she is looking extra fine nowadays. If you weren't my boy…"

"Don't make me hurt you." Sam shot him a warning look. "Anyway, we even talked about the post break up weirdness and were in a good place."

"So what happened?"

"I kissed her. And it snowballed from there."

Pulling away from the kiss, Sam silently berated himself. How could he kiss her so soon? Didn't he have any self-control? He apologized and walked over to the pool table.

Mercedes followed him and leaned against the table, looking up at him with a smirk. "I'm not sorry," she said simply.

He stepped towards her, almost closing the gap between their bodies. There was a beat where he was sure she wouldn't respond, but then she placed her hands gingerly on his chest, and looked up at him, and he saw a question in those big brown eyes.

He knew the answer to that question.

Sam wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her tenderly. He felt her tremble when he ran his fingertips down the warm, exposed skin on her back. Deepening the kiss he took a chance and grabbed her by her hips, lifting her onto the pool table and kissing down her neck, sucking gently on the spot where it met her shoulder.

Mercedes moaned breathlessly, tilting her head back in ecstasy as her hand slid down his muscular back. He felt himself grow hard; he had forgotten how sexy her moans were. She pulled him closer, wrapping her luscious thighs around his waist and pressing his growing bulge against her hot center. He sucked on her full lips and groaned in pleasure when she started to grind her soaking crotch against him.

"Sam…" she moaned, "upstairs. Now."

They ran to the elevator, both not at all certain their legs could carry them up the stairs at that moment. As soon as the doors shut, he pressed her against the wall, kissing her breathlessly until he heard the ding. He picked her up and carried her through the doorway, their lips never parting.

Laying her down on the bed, he broke their kiss to strip down. Mercedes shot him a look that made his hard cock twitch before unzipping her dress to reveal a black lace thong, and nothing else. He almost drooled.

She laid against the pillows, beckoning him with her eyes. He caught her lips in a rough kiss, palming her full breasts. As they kissed his hand traveled down her body, caressing her waist, stomach, and hips. He stroked her dripping folds as she moaned into his mouth and ground her hips against his hands. Sam knew what she wanted, and he would give it to her, just not yet.

He placed slow, agonizing kisses on the underside of her jaw, down her neck, and across her collarbone; he relished feeling her writhe from his torturous teasing. Sucking a hard nipple into his mouth he licked and nibbled on it and its twin before trailing a straight line down her stomach, stopping right above her clit. Mercedes' hips bucked as she begged him to go on. Sam kissed up and down her quivering inner thighs, the scent of her arousal beckoning him.

She nearly shot off the bed when he took her little pink clit into his mouth and sucked. Swirling his tongue around her button, he plunged a finger, and then two fingers into her gushing center and worked her into a frenzy. Mercedes moaned his name over and over as she came, and he licked up every last drop. He kissed her, and she deepened the kiss. She always did love the way she tasted, and he didn't blame her.

By this time he was aching for a release. Sam entered her slowly, groaning at how deliciously tight she was. He pumped slowly at first, leaning down to kiss her. He almost came when she nibbled and sucked on his ear. Sam pulled out, about to fuck her senseless when she flipped him over, straddling him. Mercedes looked him straight in the eyes while she guided his throbbing cock back into her and began to ride him.

He almost lost his mind. She tightened her walls massaging him as she grinded and fucked him, slowing down when she sensed he was about to cum, then speeding up, returning every bit of delicious torture.

They fucked for hours in different positions, enjoying the feel of their bare skin together. The relished the light, dizzying caresses, breathlessly whispered I love you's, and waves of pleasure; each orgasm bringing them closer to each other, bridging the gap. He couldn't remember when, but he knew they both fell asleep in blissful exhaustion.

"Bummer."

"What?" Sam snapped back to his present conversation, dazed.

Puck smiled knowingly. "You were thinking about last night, weren't you?"

"Man, shut up and get the hell outta my room." He threw a towel at his grinning friend.

"Alright." Puck stood up to leave. "But know this, if this night meant anything to you, and it did, it probably means three times as much to her. So after her initial freak out, something tells me she'll probably talk to you. All isn't lost." He left, closing the door behind him.

"I hope so…"Sam muttered to himself, as he began to get dressed.

"Alright, sweetie." Santana got up to leave. "I gotta go get Britt her waffles and get ready and all that. But know this: this isn't a situation that cannot be fixed with communication." She walked to the door and spotted something; bending down to pick it up, she threw it to Mercedes with a smile. "There's your conversation starter." She closed the door behind her.

Mercedes caught the object; it was a wallet, his wallet. She knew she shouldn't be snooping, but something told her to open it. Besides, she reasoned with herself, it's his wallet. It's not like I'm reading his texts or emails or something. Opening it she found the usual: a few bills, cards, pictures of Stevie and Stacey. She noticed a little compartment parallel with the card slots. When she opened it, little pieces of paper flew out.

Bending down to pick them up, she read them and straightened up, shocked. Mercedes had to talk to Sam, and she had to talk to him now. She was just about to go out the door when Tina burst in.

"Cede, you're not even showered yet! How are you gonna have time to curl my hair?"

With a sigh she headed to the bathroom, her mind still racing. How could he have possibly acquired those stubs?

I gave you some answers, see? :)

And sorry if the smut was terrible, it's my first time. (pun intended)

Next chapter you get to find out how and why they broke up, so stay tuned!

As always, I appreciate it when you guys leave comments/suggestions/questions/love in the reviews!

-Em