Thank you for your continued support. Your reviews inspire me and are very welcomed. (Shameless plug-in) Those of you who haven't checked out my latest Samcedes story, 'It's Never Too Late,' I invite you to do so. It won't be very long...I think, but I believe it's worth the read. Thank you in advance.
I do not own Glee or the characters.
After considerable internal debate, Sam decided to let sleeping dogs lie.
It's been a few days since he stumbled on what he believed to be M. J's secret, regarding her horrific past and as much as he wanted to, he knew it wasn't his secret to tell.
He tried to act as normal as he could around her, hoping not to give anything away, but, late at night, when he was ensconced in his home alone, he would go on the internet and do as much research as he could, about that horrible time in history.
For all of his tireless work, he still wasn't one hundred percent sure that M.J was indeed Mercedes Jones. His gut told him she was, but until she clarified it, he could only assume.
It was now Thursday evening and she was due shortly to come over to his place for dinner. As he pottered about his kitchen, he made a mental note to put away the knowledge of what he thought he knew for the night and enjoy their dinner.
M.J looked at the clock for the umpteenth time, as she tossed outfit after outfit aside.
Knowing that she and Sam had decided to take things slow, she wanted the right outfit to showcase that.
Dinner was at seven or thereabouts, and the time was now six fifteen. Half an hour later, she was dressed in white leggings, white fitted T-shirt, a pair of low top, gray and white Converse and a gray hooded sweater.
As she stepped out, she grabbed the strawberry torte she had made earlier and set off.
She made the drive to his place easily and as instructed, she took the steps up and knocked on the door. Sam's voice sounded distant as he shouted out to her.
"It's open! Come in."
M.J pushed the door open and walked in. She could see Sam in the kitchen. He looked nice. He wore jeans, a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and at least a day's worth of scruff on his handsome face.
The wheels in her head started to turn. Everything about him in that moment screamed model. At some point, she will have to ask him to pose for her.
"I could've been a trained assassin." He smiled, his eyes trained on her, as he looked at her from top to bottom.
"A locked door wouldn't stop a trained assassin."
She had to admit. He had a point. She handed over the cake to him and as he took it, he quietly said, "You look really nice."
Her breath caught in her throat, as she looked into his eyes and she had to remind herself that they were taking things slow. Returning the sentiment, she softly said,
"You don't look so bad yourself."
He placed a sweet kiss on her cheek and turned away to store the cake. Heat flooded her face as her eyes followed his retreating frame.
With his head in the fridge, he told her,
"Feel free to look around M.J, dinner will just be a few more minutes."
M.J turned away from temptation and made her way further inside.
Sam's place had a homey feel to it. She was expecting it to be the typical bachelor pad, but she was proven wrong when she saw family photos on the walls and mantle, nice furniture and the way everything was laid out.
Her eyes were drawn to his study, where walls of books stood.
As she entered, she felt his presence behind her.
"This is quite a collection Sam."
"Part of it." Her eyes widened.
"Part? You're a serious man Sam."
"About books?" She glanced around.
"Yes. Very efficient space and that is one of the best uses of a wall I've ever seen. The color, texture and dimension." He walked over and offered her a glass of wine.
"Not to mention words." She giggled at his reply and said,
"Yeah words…. I like to read as much as the next guy…. unless you're the next guy." A cheeky grin blossomed on his handsome face. He looked right at her and said,
"That's the plan." She laughed, waving him off, as she walked up and down, looking at the walls.
"But this is art. Yes, you have nice furniture, but you've arranged your space for efficiency and a highlighted passion. And by highlighting it, you've created art. I want pictures of this."
"Sure, go ahead, I don't care."
"Not now, not with my phone. I mean serious pictures. I want to come back with my equipment, and big daddy Canon." A smiling Sam asked,
"Whose daddy is he?" She laughed, but continued to study the walls of books.
"Film camera, Medium format. I could do a nice panorama too, and…"
"Bring your camera when you want to M. J, but, right now, let's sit outside and have some wine with our dinner."
She looked at his empty hands, recalling one of their many conversations, where he stated that he wasn't a fan of wine, and asked,
"You're having wine?" He smiled that lopsided smile of his.
"It's not so bad now and again. You smell great."
Before she could form an answer and he could stop himself, his lips landed on hers. It was meant to be a peck, but he drew her to him, pressing into her soft body and before long her lips parted, allowing him in.
The two got lost in the slow, languid kiss, as their tongues and lips reunited like long lost friends. After a while, Sam grudgingly pulled back and rested his forehead on hers. Softly M.J said,
"Almond and honey bath gel and Total Nourishment Fruit Cream."
He smiled, kissed her forehead and took her hand, tugging her towards his bedroom. He felt her resist.
"I've got a deck through the door in here."
She allowed him to lead her through his room. Her attention was drawn to his nice bedroom furniture, a big screen TV and more books.
He opened the door to a small square deck, a round table and two folding chairs.
"I can get you a pillow to sit on," he thoughtfully said. She waved him off.
"I'm fine Sam. But thank you anyway."
She studied the view. There was a playing field straight ahead, surrounded by a wire fence and trees. In the distance behind the field, she could see a small stadium, with tall lights, a huge sign board, another field with a tent on it and what looked like a pond, surrounded by smaller trees.
"You can sit here and watch the ball game."
"I do. When I'm too lazy to walk over," he replied.
"Little League?"
"T-ball, Little League, Pony League and some sponsored adult leagues."
She turned to her dinner then, noting he'd made Spaghetti Bolognaise. She complimented his work.
"This looks nice."
"Thank you. I hope you like it."
She took up her fork and started to twirl her pasta around it. Quietly, she asked, "Do you play?"
Sam was just taking a sip of his wine when she asked. He placed his glass back on the table and said,
"Not much anymore. There's not much time for it. Did you ever play?" A small snort escaped M.J. She cleared her throat and said,
"No. I never did. I was more interested in basketball. In high school, I actually played for a short time."
A mischievous smile appeared on Sam's face. He looked at her and as calmly as he could, said, "Wow! I never would've guessed."
M.J held his gaze, knowing exactly where he was going with this conversation. She waited patiently for him to continue.
"Uhm…isn't there a height requirement to play basketball? Or…was everyone on the team…. short?"
"There it is. I knew you couldn't resist Sam Evans."
At this point, Sam was trying desperately to hold in his laughter, but the look on her face begged to differ. She rolled her eyes at him, wanting to thump him for laughing at her.
She turned her attention to her food and started to eat.
About a minute later, Sam righted himself in his chair and took a sip from his glass. He cleared his throat several times before he addressed her.
"So…what position did you play?"
She didn't answer. She continued to enjoy her dinner. Sam stood from his chair and knelt beside her. He softly stroked her arm, brushed her hair back and sweetly kissed her cheek.
"Sorry M.J."
She looked at him and softened. He was indeed sorry. She traced his features, lingering on his nose, on which she placed a soft kiss.
"You know, for a fool, you can cook well. I forgive you. Go and eat your dinner."
His face morphed into a smile as he stood and went back to his seat. She answered his earlier question.
"Point guard, and no, I was one of three shorter girls on our team. The others were a bit taller." She took a sip and continued.
"I noticed you have a court and hoop out back." He pondered her statement for a beat, then replied,
"Shooting hoops clears the brain. I used to play, back in high school, but, these days, it's whenever I get the chance."
She gave a small nod, digesting his words. She could actually picture him playing. He was athletic, very fit and he certainly had the height.
"What position?" she asked.
"Same as you. We'll have to go one on one sometime." She looked at him, seeing no jest, but a playfulness in his eyes.
"Fine. I'll be ready."
Sam looked at the beautiful woman in front of him. She was as tough as nails, he had no doubt about that. There was a determined spirit a about her. A cheeky smile played out on her face as she asked him,
"Are you any good, because I can attest that I am."
"I can hold my own."
She had no doubt that he could, in many ways. Her thoughts drifted back to the walls of books.
"What motivated you to get into books the way you have?" He inhaled and exhaled loudly.
"I'm dyslexic and growing up, it was tough trying to read a simple sentence. I got fed up with the other kids making fun of me, and took the proverbial bull by the horns. I took a different approach and got hooked on stories of adventure, sports, anything... you name it. My reading improved and every time I felt that I was going back to how I was, I pushed harder. Nearly all of my spending money was spent on books and as I grew older, I continued. The result is what you see…in the study and in my room."
M.J sat entranced listening to Sam speak about his passion for books and why. She won't tell him, but she admired him a bit more and also fell for him a bit more in that moment.
"That's amazing Sam. Shows you, whatever you put your mind to, you can do." Sam's cheeks reddened from her praise. He ducked his head and quietly said,
"Thank you."
A few seconds of silence passed before he asked,
"What was the first picture you took?" M.J smiled.
"Well, I'd never seen the ocean before and I got a chance to, one weekend, me and some friends. God, it was so beautiful. I took rolls and rolls of film that day. What was the first song you learned to play?"
"The Gambler."
"Ooh, good old Kenny. I sense the country in you." Sam smiled at her remark. She was a puzzle, but was very good at figuring him out.
"You got me there darlin'," he said, letting his country accent slip in. He went on to say,
"My mom used to play old country songs all the time, and that one was stuck in my head. My dad had an old acoustics guitar and I worked on it until I could actually play it. What I didn't spend on books, I saved and bought a second hand Gibson."
"The one in your bedroom?"
"Yeah. I keep it handy. By the time I was fifteen, I figured out that, if you had a guitar, and could even pretend to play it, you got the girls."
She allowed his words to sink in for a beat.
"You got the girls, seeing as you can more than pretend to play. None of them stuck?"
"One almost did, but that's all water under the bridge." She took him at his word and held off from pushing any further. "What about you?"
She shrugged and nudged her plate away.
"I never stayed in one place long enough for anything to happen." Knowing the risks, Sam decided to push a bit harder. He said,
"Ordinarily, I'd assume that you had a crappy relationship or left a bad marriage behind. But I don't think that is it. You've got a solid family under you and that's foundation." Giving nothing away, M.J replied,
"Think of it as internal wiring." He countered with,
"I'm good with wiring. You've got good self-confidence and enough self-worth to punch an asshole, head off on your own and go after what you want. You might be complicated M.J, but you're not wired wrong."
He had her.
She rose from the table, took both of their plates and headed back through his room to the kitchen. Sam silently followed her, with the two glasses in his hands.
She placed the plates on the counter and turned to him.
"There was a guy who loved me…. or thought he did, the way you love someone when you're nineteen. I slept with him, studied him and worked with him. The day he told me he loved me and asked me to move in with him, I broke it off. Right then and there. It was hard for us to get through the rest of college. Easier for me, because I didn't have those feelings for him…so I could just walk away."
"But you remembered him."
"I hurt him. I didn't have to."
Sam studied her for a moment, she was probably right, but he seriously doubted anybody got through this maze called life, without hurting someone, whether they wanted to or not.
"Maybe you'll fall in love with me and ask me to live with you in that big house on the bluff."
"I don't fall in love, and I like living alone." Sam held her gaze as he uttered his next words.
"Then, I know that going in, unlike the college boy, what to expect. I know how it works. Would you like some more wine?" She moved away from the sink.
"I shouldnt. Water is better, since I have to drive." Sam nodded in agreement, but he was trying to hold on to the night for a little longer.
"It's a nice night. Once I clean this up, we can take a walk, and work off dinner."
She agreed, took the water he offered and wandered back to the walls of books. She said,
"I really want to take some shots of these. Is there any time that works for you?"
"You can come over tomorrow, anytime. The door will be opened since I'll be working down below. If you come later in the day, we could go over to the bar and grab some dinner before I play."
"You're playing tomorrow?" He shook his head and replied,
"From nine to midnight-ish. Mom and dad are probably going to come, so you won't be by yourself.
She was just about to answer when everything went black and cold as her eyes latched on to a single spine in the wall of books.
'Blood in the Ground: The Legacy of Marcus Tyrone Jones.'
They'd changed the title for the movie, the title and focus, because they wanted the drama focused on the young girl who'd discovered her father…the young girl who'd saved a woman's life, who'd stopped a murderer.
Years ago, she decided she was strong enough to face everything. She read interviews by the director and screenwriter, so she knew why they'd turned the book into 'Daughter of Evil.'
But this is where it had started, this book held all of the horror and cold-blooded years of one man's murderous secrets…that man was her father.
"M.J?" Sam tossed the dish cloth and started for her. "What's wrong?" She turned sharply, her skin looked ashen and her eyes looked blank.
"Nothing…nothing…I…a little headache. I probably shouldn't have had wine with my dinner."
She side-stepped, talking too fast.
"This was really nice Sam, but I should go….and probably pop a couple of Advil…and call it an early night."
Before she could get out of the door, he grasped her arm and felt it quivering. "You're shaking M.J."
She couldn't meet his eyes as she said, "It's just a headache. I really need to go."
Afraid the shaking would turn into a panic attack, she placed her hand over his and pled, "Please Sam. I'll come back tomorrow. Thanks for everything."
At that, she bolted. Sam turned back, his eyes narrowed on the books.
Then it hit him. Something had put the fear of God into her…and he knew exactly what that something was.
He had his confirmation. M.J is definitely Mercedes Jones.
Ten minutes later, M.J reached her home on the bluff.
She was still shaking.
She tried not to think about the way she dashed from Sam's home and the myriad of thoughts, possibly questions, that could be running through his head. She will have to come up with something to say to him and she sure as hell will have to make it up to him.
Tonight, she got another glimpse of the wonderful guy he is. He made her boring night brighter, and his cooking was delicious.
She made her way up to her room, threw her hoodie on a chair and crashed on her bed.
Next day, she awoke to the sound of her phone ringing. She knew who it was right away. She didn't bother to look at the caller ID.
"Morning Sam."
"Good morning beautiful. Just checking to see how you are."
She closed her eyes at his term of endearment, trying to picture his gorgeous face. His voice was laced with concern and it made her feel special.
"I'm fine Sam. Thank you for checking up on me though." He absentmindedly voiced his thoughts to her.
"Yes you are."
But he caught himself when he heard her soft giggle. He cleared his throat and said,
"Uhm…Good to hear. I was worried." She could that tell he was. She saw it the night before she ran also.
"No need to worry, I'm much better."
"Great. Couple of questions. Are you still coming over and what time?" A soft sigh escaped her. She said,
"Yes I am and it will be later in the evening."
She couldn't see it, but, Sam fist pumped the air and his face split into a huge smile.
"Fantastic! I look forward to seeing you." His enthusiasm brought a smile to M. J's face. He could be so dorky sometimes.
"Okay. I will see you later
"Bye beautiful. Enjoy your day."
'Thank you Sam. You too."
She placed her phone on the nightstand and moved towards her closet. Although she had the entire day at her disposal, she decided to sort out her clothes for the evening.
Hours later, M.J arrived at Sam's place to shoot the photos.
The book loomed in front of her, putting her off, so she decided to go around the back to the garage.
The last rays of sunlight filtering through the trees caught her attention, as it dropped towards the horizon.
She saw Sam lifting tyres and stacking them as if they were as light as a feather. For a few seconds, she watched him, the way the muscles in his arms and back rippled with every movement he made. The concentration on his face, the way the veins in his arms bulged and she had to admit, it was downright sexy.
As if sensing that she was there, he looked up. The look he gave her was scorching. His green eyes traveled from the tip of her shoes, right up to her eyes, where he held them captive for a moment, until his face broke into a soft smile.
M.J shuddered. She wasn't cold, but something in his gaze made her. She caught herself, as he walked towards her, and that old familiar tug returned. Schooling her features, she accepted his sweet kiss to her cheek and quietly said,
"Hi. I hope you don't mind me dropping by the garage. I don't really feel like taking those photos we talked about, at least not right now."
"That's fine by me. Whether it's here or the house, nothing is off limits to you….including me."
The playful expression on his handsome face made her roll her eyes. She waved him away saying,
"I know that…very well….Mr. Evans. This seems like a good spot for a garage. Quick access to the road, near to town and a fast way to zip to the highway. Is that why you picked it?"
Sam shook his head in the negative.
"No. This place was here already. It belonged to a guy called Clint. He was getting down in age and his wife was sick, so he decided to sell it."
"Okay, fair enough. Was it the mechanics that made you or the idea of having your own business?" she asked.
"It's both. I like cars and I wanted one, so I had to learn to keep it running. I didn't mind working for Clint, but I like working for myself more."
"That's great Sam. Doing something that you love and getting paid for it, is a bonus. I'm glad it worked out for you."
And she was. He could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. She was genuinely glad for him. The need to kiss her was strong, but he stood his ground and offered her a sweet smile instead.
"Thank you, pretty lady. I am too."
The two made small talk as Sam closed up for the night and then headed inside for him to get ready.
Half an hour later, Sam remembered that he had to drop off spare parts for a long-time customer, so he left her at his place, with the intention of meeting her up later at the bar.
M.J made herself at home.
She made her way out to the deck and sat there, thinking and taking in the night air.
Her thoughts drifted to the book on the shelf. It only took that to remind her. How could she have forgotten, or allowed herself to forget, what she had come from and how easily 'normal' could come crashing down.
Like a lightning flash, Sam entered her mind. Automatically, she smiled. This man kept her on her toes. He knew how to break her walls down and how to reach her. He was lovable, dorky, sweet, kind, handsome, sexy and much more, poured into a six-foot plus frame.
Trying to keep their relationship on the friendly side was hard…. very hard and every minute she spent with him, it got harder. At some point she would have to stop fighting a losing battle. She was falling for him and just couldn't stop herself.
She took a look at her watch, seeing the time was past nine, so she gathered herself together, locked up and left.
Her timing couldn't be better, because the band had already rocked the small stage.
She spied Dwight and Mary sitting cozy at a table and made her way towards them. Immediately, Mary grabbed her hand.
"Great timing. The kids went out and we just got here. They're hot tonight!" she said, pointing to the stage. Dwight leaned in and gently kissed M. J's cheek, as a way of saying hello. He pointed to the bar and turned away from them.
"Dwight's going to get us some drinks and then he's going to dance with me."
M.J gave a playful shriek and batted her eyes at Mary. The two broke out into a laugh, acting like two teen-aged girls.
Dwight returned shortly after with their drinks and Mary promptly latched onto his hand. M.J said, "Next round is on me."
They toasted and took a swig of their drinks. Right away, Mary dragged Dwight onto the dance floor, sending air kisses to M.J as she did so.
A few minutes later, M.J made her way to the bar. She felt Sam's eyes on her, the flutter in her tummy assured her of that.
She needed to acknowledge him, and she would…. soon.
She ordered three new drinks, just as the band started to slow things down.
On her way back to the table, she saw Dwight and Mary, still on the dance floor, wrapped around each other, swaying. The sweetness of it struck her, right in the heart.
'Love can last…for some,' she thought.
She set the drinks down, picked up hers and looked towards the stage with a smile on her face.
Sam's gaze locked onto hers. He was singing as if he meant it, as if wild horses couldn't make him look away, or take him away. He exuded talent and showmanship.
Where his parents had struck in her heart…he gripped it, hard enough to make it ache. She wanted it to stop. To empty herself of what he made her feel…. what he made her need. He'd been a mistake, from the moment he sauntered in and changed her tyre on that dark road.
She made herself look away and turned her eyes towards the dancers on the floor. Her gaze brushed over the woman who had whispered something into Sam's ear the last time she'd been here. The woman looked back at her with something like a sulk or dislike.
'Great. Now I have the attention of some a jealous groupie,' she internalized.
That ache from before, stayed within her as the band kicked things up once more. She saw the Evans' coming her way, their faces lit with happiness.
"Two dances in a row. That's a record," Mary stated. M. J directed a question to Dwight.
"You don't like to dance?" Dramatically, Dwight answered,
"Did you see me out there?" M. J laughed and honestly said,
"I thought you looked adorable…the both of you."
Sam knew the minute M. J entered the bar.
It wasn't because he had seen her, but because there was a change in the air. Like the calm before a storm. She had one within her, a storm, and he knew why now, but the why wasn't the whole story.
He wanted the whole of it as much as he wanted her.
So many times he has debated, if to tell her he knew, or not. Or not always won out. Would telling her help her relax, or send her running? That was the question.
He deduced that she was too much of a mystery to be sure.
She didn't trust him, he knew that, and as much as it grated on his nerves, he wasn't singled out, she probably trusted no one except for her family.
He'd wondered too, if he left her alone and just backed away, if she would be fine with it. He suspected she would. That was something else she was good at. Making wherever she was and whatever she did, fine for the moment. She was used to that, but he was damn set on giving her something she wasn't used to.
The hell with fine. Sam Evans was on a mission…. his target…. M. J.
First of all, I apologize for the absence of a flashback in this update. I wanted it to be all about Samcedes and this chapter wanted to go on and on...
I hope it make sense, because it was mostly written in one go. Much love to you.
