Disclaimer: on first page
A/N: Finally, they let me post this update! Ha. I had this for you guys last night, but the upload function kept logging me out. As always, thank you so much for the reviews and alerts! If you could see the huge, dopey grin I get whenever I see an e-mail from FF, you'd laugh...hard. You guys are awesome!
I'd like to dedicate this chapter to keeponsmilingg, because she is fantastic.
Enjoy!
Mercedes tried not to laugh at the stricken look on Sam's face as Quinn led her away from him. A part of her felt bad that she ditched him; he clearly had intentions of spending brunch with her as his "buddy" – whatever that meant. She tried to push away the nagging little bit of guilt she felt and focused on the words coming out of Quinn's mouth.
"…priceless, like he was a puppy, and I took away his favorite chew toy."
"What?"
"Were you listening to me at all-" she stopped walking and her face dropped. "What's wrong?"
Mercedes shifted, uneasy. "It's nothing, really…just, um, his face was kind of really sad," she said quietly, fidgeting with her locket.
Quinn gingerly placed a hand on her arm. "He'll be fine, Mercy. You're such a softie, it's adorable." She laced her pale fingers through her friend's dark ones and squeezed reassuringly. "Besides, it's not like you told him we were dating or something, though from the look on his face you'd think that's exactly what we said," she laughed tugging her once again towards the garden.
Something deep in her stomach fluttered, and she chose to ignore it, entertaining Quinn's idle chatter as the elegant tented setup came into view. Once they were seated across from Puck and a disgruntled Sam, she poured herself a drink and focused once again on Quinn's words.
"Tell me you're free the first weekend of June," she leaned in almost conspiratorially, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "not that I'm going to take no for an answer."
Mercedes eyed her, raising a brow. She knew that tone, and she knew that look. Quinn either had an amazing idea, a scandalous one, or – the most likely scenario – some unholy mixture of the two. She took a deep sip of her mimosa before replying. "Why do you ask?"
"Well," she said, teasingly drawing the word out as she wrapped an arm around her waist, "Puck is going to yet another convention and I may or may not booked us a weekend at that one spa you were dying to visit…"
"Quinn, you didn't." She watched as the blonde put on a confused pout.
"I thought…I thought you said you always wanted to spend a weekend there…"
"Oh I do. You have no idea how badly, actually."
"Then why-"
Just then, Tina and Mike came to join them. It only took one look at Tina's glowing face to know that they had themselves quite an evening. Mhmm, she thought to herself, he shut it down last night. She listened to their endearing toast, making a mental note to tease her best friend mercilessly later on. It was adorable watching them interact and play off each other; it made her feel so warm. She loved their love. After raising her glass to the couple she turned back to Quinn, but not before catching a tingle-inducing wink from across the table.
"It's too much, Quinnie," she sighed. "Isn't it practically a grand a night?"
"So?" Quinn shrugged. "I love you, and I have a chunk of my advance set aside to spend on what I love."
Shortly after graduating at the top of her class at Yale, Quinn took a grueling job as an assistant at a huge publishing house. She tried for months to get someone of importance to read her work to no avail. After submitting her work under a pen name, they snapped her up so fast it gave her whiplash.
She was months away from having the second book in her series of genderbent historical fiction published, and the critics were in love from the first page of the first installment. With wild popularity, critical acclaim, and having a movie deal in the works came a comfortable living. But Quinn's ability to more than afford a lavish weekend getaway didn't erase the unease Mercedes felt at the gesture.
"I can't let you-"
"Let me." She squeezed Mercedes' waist lovingly. "What did we just talk about upstairs? You better shut up and let me spoil you before I decide to take Rachel," she laughed.
"Uh-uh. Like you would ever pick Berry over me," she side-eyed her friend. "Besides, that girl needs intensive therapy, and not of the seaweed wrap and hot stone massage variety."
"You have a point," Quinn giggled, "so are you coming or what?"
Mercedes touched her forehead to Quinn's and grabbed the hand that sat in her lap. "You drive a hard bargain, but I guess I can let you take me," she laughed.
Quinn practically bounced with excitement, embracing her friend. "It's been so long since we've had some quality time together, I can't wait."
They fell into easy conversation during their meal about all of the things they couldn't wait to try at the resort. Every now and then Mercedes would feel Sam's eyes on her, even as he was talking to other people. Her heart raced when she caught his glance and he raised a brow teasingly or sent her another wink.
Apparently Quinn wasn't as thrilled with the flirting as she was, because she'd squeeze her hand and draw her back into conversation whenever she caught them. If Mercedes didn't know any better she'd have sworn that there was some jealousy mixed in with the annoyance that flashed in her friend's eyes, but she wasn't ready to explore that possibility.
She casted another furtive peek at Sam, who was talking to an exhausted looking Finn, when she saw them pale. She followed their line of vision and saw Rachel coming towards the table.
"Fuck."
Quinn shot her a puzzled glance before turning around. "Wha- Oh dear god."
A disheveled Rachel Berry dressed in yesterday's clothes strode up to the table, clearing her throat obnoxiously until everyone turned to look at her. Finn all but slid under the table.
"Hello everyone. Tina, Mike, you look well. Congratulations on your nuptials; I'm sure you'll bring some fairly talented children into this world. Of course they won't be quite the triple threat my child will be, but I digress."
The entire table fell into an awkward silence. Stunned that she had the audacity to throw a thinly veiled insult at the newlyweds when she was an unwanted guest, they shifted uncomfortably. Sam, Quinn, Santana, Mercedes, Mike and Tina glared in her direction.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your little meal but Finn and I have important matters to discuss regarding-"
"Rachel! That's enough." Mercedes was surprised to see Sam spring up from his seat. Finn just looked like he was going to be sick. He took her hand and began to lead her towards the house. She snatched her hand back and stood in front of Finn, a crazed look in her eye.
"Regarding his utter lack of loyalty to me. I may have had an…indiscretion. But you owe me everything, Finn Hudson. Would you have chosen the Rutgers football program if it wasn't close to me in New York? No - you wouldn't have attended or ever been considered for that coaching job without me pushing you.
"My desire for greatness was the catalyst for you to make something of yourself, and now you want to leave me when you can finally repay me for all of the good I've done you?" Rachel sniffed, indignant. "We can and will work through this little…turn of events. I won't be deprived. I didn't put up with years of your moronic, uncultured babble to be abandoned."
The tension ran stiflingly thick, and Mercedes found the secondhand embarrassment of Rachel's tirade almost unbearable. She felt Quinn stiffen next to her and grip her hand tightly, no doubt to keep from slapping some sense into the woman. Brittany practically pulled Santana into her lap to keep her from lunging, one arm tightly around her waist, and a hand on her mouth.
The newlyweds were slack jawed from shock, and their family members were all taken aback. Sam stood a few feet away from her, clenching both his fists and jaw in an effort to keep calm. The rest of the former glee club was glaring at Rachel so hard it was a wonder she didn't burst into flames.
Finn's eyes were darkened in anger and hurt in a way she'd never seen; her heart went out to him. It seemed like the entire table was paused, waiting for his reaction. He stood slowly, and turned to face her.
"Rachel," he said quietly but firmly, "I think you have done enough to ruin this for Tina and Mike. If you want to beat a dead horse and rehash this argument, let's do it somewhere private. Because if you're gonna insist on this being a public conversation, I might not be so nice as to avoid exposing your indiscretion." The icy look he gave Rachel found Mercedes suffering some peripheral frostbite.
Rachel seemed unfazed by his tone and gaze. "So you aren't going to change your mind then," she stated flatly, boldly returning his stare.
Finn let out a frustrated growl, scrubbing his hand over his face. "Mike, Tina…I am so sorry," he said, turning to face the couple, "you don't deserve to end your weekend on this note. If she won't walk away, I will." He turned around and started towards the estate. Rachel let him get about five yards away before opening her mouth.
"Go ahead," she called after him harshly, "it figures you'd walk away. No real man would walk away from a confrontation – or his pregnant girlfriend, for that matter."
Mercedes could have sworn that each and every person at the long table took a gasp, simultaneously, and held that breath. She watched Finn stop dead in his tracks before turning slowly on his heel.
"What did you just say?" he questioned, his voice dangerously low.
Mercedes was stunned to see something akin to panic flash in Rachel's eyes; no doubt she regretted her outburst. She quickly composed herself. "You heard me," she replied, her falsely confident tone doing nothing to hide the tremor in her voice. "Now le- let's go sort this out privately. I think we've given everyone enough of a show," she said primly.
Finn said nothing, simply staring as he walked slowly back to where she stood. The disappointment in his expression overpowered the anger, and the cool detachment with which he regarded her was chilling.
"Oh no," he chuckled, coldly, "you don't get privacy now, not after insulting my intelligence and manhood in the middle of our friends' celebration. First of all, you're not my girlfriend. I told you last night I never want to see you again, and I meant it. And after this stunt you pulled, I doubt many of the people you used to be able to call your friends still want that title."
He walked a few feet away before turning back one last time. "And maybe next time you start dating a 'hopeless jock' – as you so kindly put it – you'll make sure he's dumb enough to believe the baby is actually his."
Sam watched as Finn walked back into the estate, then sprung into action. The first thing on his mind was damage control. He turned to see Rachel standing with an unreadable expression on her face. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he tried to guide her inside once again, but she shrugged him off and stormed back in the direction she came from. Kurt and Blaine got up and followed her, probably to make sure she stayed away from Finn.
Appetite and mood ruined, they began to apologize profusely on Rachel's behalf to the newlyweds and their family. Mercedes had her arm around Tina and was whispering in the distraught woman's ear while rubbing her arm. Sam caught Mike's eye to make sure he was okay before heading out to find Finn. He was about to head inside when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Let me," Puck said, gruffly. "I was the problem the first time around, it's high time I be part of the solution. Besides, I'm pretty sure Tina and Mercedes are gonna need you, and Santana wants blood – I'm not sure how long Brittany can hold her." With that, he turned Sam back in the direction of the garden and headed inside.
When he got back to the table, Sam saw that Tina, Mike, and their family were no longer there. "Wait, where'd they go?"
"They had post-brunch plans for a guided tour of the area before her family leaves tonight," Mercedes informed him with a sigh, "I told them they might as well go take their time to freshen up and try and shake off the bad mood." She rested her head against Quinn's shoulder, letting her friend play with the end of her braid.
Sam glanced around the table. A little further down from where Quinn and Mercedes sat, Brittany sat with Santana still in her lap. She was speaking quietly to her while rubbing her back. Surprisingly, Artie was on her other side, holding her hand and nodding at whatever Brittany was saying. They all sat in the first comfortable silence of the day, using the time to decompress.
Kurt and Blaine came back and sat on Sam's right. Kurt's face was flushed with anger while Blaine's registered a quiet disappointment. Blaine reached for his boyfriend's hand and began to gently caress it in an effort to calm him down.
"She is fucking nuts," Kurt muttered, leaning back into his boyfriend with an exasperated sigh.
"I know, babe. Just let it go," Blaine murmured into Kurt's hair, planting a kiss on his head.
Try as he might, he couldn't ignore that jealous twinge that came back at the sight of everyone all cozied up to commiserate about crazy Berry. Mercedes should be resting her head on his shoulder, not Quinn's. He wasn't going to make a scene about it; he knew they were especially close – you can't be at the birth of someone's child and not be. But that didn't stop him from feeling particularly alone in the midst of all the affection.
"How's Finn doing?" Kurt inquired, shaking Sam out of his thoughts.
"I'm not sure. I was going to go after him, but Puck told me he wanted to handle this one, so I let him," Sam replied.
"Uhhhm...I don't know if he was the best person to do that…" Kurt said, visibly worried. "I mean, I love Noah, but he was the cause of this same scenario the first time…"
"That's why he should be talking to him, in my opinion," Sam shrugged. "He gave me some really solid advice this weekend about another subject where he didn't used to have the best track record. He's changed a lot guys, remember that." Kurt nodded, satisfied.
"Where is She-who-must-not-be-named?" Artie asked Kurt.
Kurt sat up and crossed his legs with a sigh. "We called her a cab and sent her to her hotel. We told her that she needed to leave Finn alone and just give him some space. Oh, and that we'd be there for her and the baby no matter what, but that she needs to start thinking about how her actions affect others-"
"But of course she took that as us saying that we're on Finn's side and called us 'traitors' before slamming the cab door in our faces," finished Blaine, massaging his temples.
"Oh dear Lord…" muttered Mercedes.
"That child needs Jesus..." Artie murmured with an expression of disapproval.
"She's Jewish, Artie," Quinn reminded him.
"So? That's clearly not working for her…"
They all had a much needed laugh at that, and it served to lighten the mood. Brittany and Santana excused themselves, explaining they had plans to go hiking in a bit. Kurt and Blaine also strolled off to have some drama-free couple time. The four left at the table chatted amicably, but Sam knew Quinn was about to take off with Mercedes in a couple minutes. He saw that protective glint in her eye. He had nothing against hanging out with Artie, in fact they were pretty close, but he didn't have two years of silence between them to make up for.
Deciding that challenging Quinn by just leading Mercedes away would only make things worse, he tried a subtle approach. "So Q, I hear your book is being turned into a movie," he began, steering the conversation. "Congratulations, that's a huge deal." He was being sincere; he may have a strange relationship with her, but he was proud of all she'd made of herself.
Quinn shot him a genuine smile; one he hadn't seen in years. "Yeah. We're in negotiations now, but it's happening. Things are iffy about the amount of creative control I want to let go of, you know? That book is like a child to me; three years worth of labor and all."
"Do you have a clear vision of how you want it to play out on screen?" Artie inquired.
"Well I was hoping my genius director friend would help me flesh it out a bit more, but I have some of the basic ideas down pretty clearly." She patted his hand fondly.
"Of course, you know you're my girl," Artie smiled. And with that, they launched into an intense discussion of the business.
Signaling Mercedes with an arch of his brow and a subtle nod in the direction of the house, he rose. When she followed him, Quinn paused in conversation, and her eyes let him know she was on to what he'd done. Thankfully they told him she was more amused and impressed than aggravated. She gave him a small smile and a nod and turned back to Artie.
He grabbed her small, warm hand and brought their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to their fingers and smiling when he heard her content sigh. Sam led Mercedes to a small terrace he discovered accidentally when looking for a place to have their conversation yesterday. Up a couple flights of stairs was a small, cozy balcony terrace with a view of the lush hills and fields of Napa. They reclined on a low couch, her thighs across his lap and her cheek on his chest, his arms wrapped around her. Silently they sat, basking in the warmth of the sun.
Sam couldn't help but let his hands wander over her body – the parts that wouldn't get them in too much trouble, anyway – this taking it slow thing was killing him. He was glad she hadn't gotten too small; her tummy was still soft, her cheeks plump, and her thighs retained their lovely thickness. One of his favorite parts about her was the way she contrasted with him: where his body was hard, hers was soft and where his skin was pale, hers was warm and dark. Where he was tall, she was short, and his large hands engulfed her little fingers.
Their differences are what made her so attractive to him. Not just the physical differences, but also those in their personalities. He was passionate and ambitious, but also impulsive and idealistic at times. Mercedes was a planner: pragmatic and responsible while also being exceedingly compassionate. She kept him grounded and focused and he, in turn, expanded her imagination and helped her to see that it was okay to live in the moment.
He only wished a little more of her personality had rubbed off on him before he decided to propose to her in college. His immaturity almost killed their relationship. Almost – here they were rebuilding. Sam now understood her side of things, and sincerely apologized to her – he'd even started to forgive himself. He decided it was time she heard his side of things.
"Sam Evans!"
He looked down to meet her eyes staring up at him with a look that was a mixture of shock and bemusement.
"What?"
"Do you agree that we should be taking things slow?"
Sam cocked his head in confusion, he didn't really understand how cuddling was going too fast. "Yes…"
"You do know that by 'take things slow' I don't mean 'slowly inch your hand up the inside of my thigh'…" Mercedes slapped at his wrist.
Sam felt like his face was on fire. Old habits die hard, he supposed. He hadn't even realized where his hand was heading; he was lost in thought. "Heh. Sorry…autopilot."
"Mhmm, sure." She laughed as he blushed even deeper. "I love it - even when your mind is off someplace, your body is still working on seducing me. It would."
"Clearly I'm programmed to please you," he whispered into her ear, kissing the sensitive skin behind it. Sam blew on her neck, loving the way she shivered, and alternated teasing kisses with gentle nips. He groaned when he felt her shift into his lap and her nails rake lightly down his chest. Mercedes brought her lips up to meet his, and he practically moaned into her mouth when she tangled her fingers in his hair and gave it a good tug.
She had Peter Parker ready to shoot a web or two before he remembered that he was supposed to be having some kind of serious, relationship-building conversation with her, not picking out a position in his head.
The little whine Mercedes let out when he pulled away from her almost broke his resolve. She rolled her hips off his lap and back onto the couch, laughing at his gasp. "That was just mean," he pouted at her.
"Hey, you ended it. I was just making sure you knew what you were missing." Mercedes batted her full lashes at him, in faux innocence.
He knew damn well what he was missing.
"Stop blinking those doe eyes at me like you're innocent, Troubletone. You have to remember that I know better." Sam smirked at her petulant nose scrunch. "Believe it or not, I was planning on having a grown-up conversation with you before you seduced me."
"Oh really?" Mercedes snorted. "Was that before or after you started kissing on my neck?"
"Guilty," he grinned, "and I'm not even sorry."
She shook her head and laughed at his shameless grin. "Anyway, what is this alleged conversation supposed to be about?"
Sam took her hands in his and stared down at them, clearing his throat. "I wanted to try and explain a little bit about why things ended up, you know, the way they did that night."
She inhaled, sharply. "Oh." Mercedes paused for a moment before squeezing his hand. "If you are comfortable talking about it, I want to listen."
He nodded and swallowed before beginning. "When you hesitated, I started to panic, plain and simple. We were so in love, and I mean it was some real, grown ass love. I never imagined you hesitating, let alone saying no." Sam took a deep, shaky breath. "And I guess in a way that explains why we were in no position to be getting engaged."
"What do you mean?" Mercedes regarded him with a furrowed brow.
Letting go of one of his hands, he cupped her cheek, running a calloused thumb over her soft cheek. "When an adult makes a decision, especially one that is as life altering as proposing, they need to consider and prepare for all possible outcomes of that decision. In my immaturity, I was so certain you'd say yes that I never prepared myself for the possibility of you not being ready. And then when you turned me down I shut down completely." He took a deep, shuddering breath and felt her fingers begin caress his neck in a soothing rhythm.
"As soon as I got on the train back to campus, I knew on some level that I'd handled the entire situation terribly and hurt you in the process. But then the immaturity and male pride kicked in and convinced me that I was the victim," Sam laughed humorlessly. He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. "Honestly…we were both victims of my horrible decision making."
Mercedes burst out in a bubbly laugh, and he couldn't help but smile. "You can say that again," she said, eyes sparkling with mirth before getting suddenly serious. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For explaining. It probably wasn't easy for you, but I needed to hear what was going on in your head. Because the things that I told myself you were thinking were much worse," she let out a relieved chuckle. "But why now? How come you didn't tell me this yesterday when you came to find me?"
"Puck said something to me yesterday that I can't get out of my head. Basically, he told me that it doesn't matter that you've begun to forgive me if I don't forgive myself, and that it could end up hurting the both of us." Sam ran his hand anxiously through his hair and forced himself to meet her wide, dark eyes. "So I'm working on that, because I don't want to punish myself, but most of all I don't want to hurt you again. Ever."
They were silent together for a while. Mercedes brought his hand to her lips and in a familiar gesture, pressed a kiss to the palm, and then the back of it before smiling up at him. "You have a good heart, Sammy. On some level, I've always known that you'd never intentionally hurt me – even then. People with good hearts don't do that." The soft, loving smile she gave him made him melt. "Be gentle with yourself."
Sam's heart beat wildly in his chest as she snuggled back against him. He placed a kiss on the top of her head and they enjoyed the feel of their bodies together and the warmth of the sunlight.
"Ugh, they're so sickeningly sweet. It's gross."
"San! Be nice. They need to cuddle! Cuddling is how your souls bond."
Mercedes stirred, waking from her unexpected nap and smiling at an adorably sleeping Sam before turning to give Brittany a smile and Santana a glare. "Shut up."
Santana sucked her teeth. "Girl, please. He could sleep through the apocalypse, you're the light sleeper."
She narrowed her eyes, indignant. "If you knew that…why would you come up here and make noise?"
"Because it's almost dinner time, and I figured he'd rather get woken up with kisses from you than a slap upside his head from me," Santana smirked.
"How considerate," Mercedes quipped dryly.
"Isn't she?" Brittany beamed proudly at her girlfriend. "We've been working on it," she admitted, giving Santana a kiss.
"Just be in the dining room in an hour," the blushing Latina mumbled, leading her girlfriend down the stairs.
Mercedes laughed softly to herself. Those two were made for each other, there was no mistaking it. Turning to her slumbering not-boyfriend, she admired the way the golden light of the early evening played over his hair and skin, illuminating his rugged features. Brushing the hair back from his forehead, she called his name softly until he began to stir. Leaning up, she gave him a gentle kiss and felt him smile against her lips before kissing her back.
"You know," Sam rumbled, his voice rough from sleep, "I could get used to this whole you-waking-up-first thing."
I've been ending on fluff lately instead of having angsty cliffhangers...that might change. *evil laughter*
We also may or may not find out who Rachel's baby daddy is next chapter. Guess in the reviews and I'll list everyone who is correct in the update. A few of you have guessed already and it's so interesting to see the theories you have, they're super creative!
As always, thanks for reading.
-Em
