Hi all, I hope you are doing well and that you still have the Christmas feeling. I still have it, but I'm back to long hours at work :(

Anyway, I want to say thank you for your continued support and for your kind remarks over time. Much love to you and yours.

I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own It Had To Be You.

Sam concentrated on dragging air back into his lungs.

He was still in the kitchen chair, with Mercedes' dead weight on his chest. Maybe, one day they'd actually make it to his bed.

Except, they weren't going to have a 'one day'.

Mercedes hadn't moved at all, so he stroked a hand down her back, and was relieved to feel her breathing.

"I didn't kill you then," he mumbled.

"Death by orgasm," she murmured, still not moving. "Not a bad way to go."

But after another long moment, she sighed, rose, and began to put herself back together, covering up that amazing body.

'A damn shame,' Sam thought, as he managed to find his legs and took their plates to the sink.

When he turned back, he caught her staring at his ass.

Her face heated.

"I-I saw you earlier...you know..." she stammered.

"Sitting on the dock?"

"Yes. Talking to your grandfather."

"Eavesdropping again?" he asked.

"No, since I couldn't hear the words." She paused. "But the body language said plenty. Are you close to him? It's hard to tell."

"Used to be." He paused. "I thought he blamed me for my grandma's death."

"Oh Sam," she murmured. "No."

He shrugged. The truth was the truth.

"And now?" she asked.

"He says he was mad at me for leaving town."

Mercedes came close, invading his space, running her hands up his chest to cup his face.

He wasn't buried deep inside her body, but the gesture was just as powerful.

"Her death wasn't your fault," she said.

"And the leaving?"

"Were you supposed to stay here, just to make him happy?" she asked.

"There was no making him happy."

Mercedes' fingers massaged his skull, melting his bones.

He'd just had her, and he wanted her again.

"You seem pretty fond of blaming yourself for everyone and everything," she said. "Wonder why that is? You don't want to be happy?"

"Happy?"

Unsure how they'd gone from post-orgasmic glow to this, Sam shook his head.

"There's not much to be happy about...I would've thought you knew that better than anyone."

Mercedes cocked her head and studied him, with what he was certain, was more than a dash of pity.

"You think I should be unhappy?" she asked.

Even as he sensed a trap, he opened his big, fat, stupid mouth.

"Aren't you?"

She went still a beat and then pulled back.

"Why? Because someone I thought I could trust walked out on me, with nothing more than a text? Because I think my boss is going to close the flower shop and I'll lose my job? Because I've been falsely accused of a crime, that people in town actually believe I committed?"

She gave him a little push, that actually wasn't so little.

"I'm not defined by someone I thought I was dating, Sam, or what I do for a living. And I'm not defined by what people think of me. My happiness comes from within, and I..."

'Oh shit!' he swore internally.

Because her voice broke.

But she shook her head and pointed at him.

"And here's the thing..." she went on.

'Oh, good. Thank God! There is a thing,' he thought.

He listened, desperate to get passed this without her tears.

"...I know I might look like a ball of fluff," she said. "But I'm not. Not even close. And the fact that I get up each morning and put a damn smile on my face, is the same as…Batman putting on his cape."

"I..."

"I'm not done. It's…protection. It's my shield. It's me waving my middle finger to the world, because I choose to be happy. The bottom line, Sam, is that I know what matters and what doesn't."

She gave him a look, that would have wilted the plant on the kitchen island, if she hadn't been taking such good care of it.

"And I would've thought, that you'd know that better than anyone."

With his own words thrown back at him, and mocking him by Mercedes, she turned and headed for the door.

Sam sighed.

"Mercedes..." he called.

But she was gone.

Sam was awaken the next morning, by a call from the Sheriff.

"The video is in," he said. "We found nothing, but it's all yours if you want it."

And Sam did want it.

He rolled out of bed, and twenty minutes later, he was on his way.

Sam made a pit stop at the beauty salon, where a brunette in her early twenties was opening the shop.

"Mandy's first appointment isn't until noon," she said when he asked. "I don't expect her for a few hours."

"I'll come back," he said. "But out of curiosity, have any of you done a blue manicure with white stars lately?"

"Actually," she said. "Mandy..."

"Is right here…"

Sam turned to find Mandy standing there.

"You're looking for a manicure," she said more than asked, with a broad smile. "A blue one at that. Wow. I so did not see that one coming. I mean, I've heard San Francisco can turn a man, but you, Lieutenant Sexy? You've got so much testosterone that you ooze pheromones. Please come back to the straight team. We need you."

Sam blinked.

"What? No!" 'Jesus.' "The manicure isn't for me."

"Well, that's a relief."

"So?" Sam asked both women. "A blue manicure?"

"Didn't you have a blue manicure last month?" the brunette asked. "We were experimenting with the new spray brush, remember?"

"Didn't keep them blue for more than a few minutes," Mandy said casually, and sipped from the coffee in her hands. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a last-minute emergency appointment."

She started to walk into the studio, then turned back to Sam.

"I'm the only game in town, but it's not far to other salons," she said. "In fact, there's one not too far down the road in Ocean Shores, and they specialize in original nail designs. You might check with them. But just out of curiosity, why are you asking?"

"Nothing important," he said.

"Uh-huh." She gave him a long, speculative look, then vanished inside.

Thoughtful, Sam walked back to his truck and found Jake in the passenger seat, slurping coffee like his life depended on it.

There was a look on his face, that suddenly had Sam's gut clenching.

"Mike?" he sked.

And Jake's expression immediately lightened.

"No, man. He's fine, as far as I know. I haven't heard from him, but last time he emailed, he was pretty sure he'd be home soon."

He jutted his chin towards the salon.

"You get yourself a nice cut and color?"

"Yeah, real nice. What are you doing here?"

"Marley's dating some new guy. I ran him," he said, "And he's got a record."

"You ran him? Since when does a firefighter run people?" Sam asked.

"Hey, I have friends in high places, okay? And it was for the common good."

Sam shook his head.

"What's his record?"

"He's got a library debt."

Sam stared at Jake.

"Well, hell, Jake. We should string him up for that."

"Hey, if he can't keep a library book safe, he sure as hell can't take care of one little pastry chef."

"So, you're waiting here to tell her that?"

"No, I'm going to tell him that. I'm waiting for him to get out of there. He's currently sucking up to her, looking for date number two."

Sam laughed.

Jake and Marley had been friends since their school days. The kind of friends, who moved each other's parked cars to different streets, or set them up on bad blind dates, for the sheer entertainment value.

But this curiosity about who she was dating was new.

Very new.

Jake wasn't a possessive guy about anything.

He'd lost his dad early in a tragic fire. And since then, he hadn't taken much of anything too seriously...except his job.

"You're crazy," Sam said.

"Says the guy who just came out of a beauty salon," Jake said.

Sam stared at him, trying to figure out the odd tone in his voice.

"I thought you and Marley were just friends."

"Yeah, and friends don't let friends date potential felons," Jake said. "And aren't you supposed to be back in San Francisco?"

"Aren't you supposed to be putting out fires?"

"I'm just coming off four twenty-fours and going straight to bed."

"Not yet you're not." Sam turned over his engine and pulled out into the street.

"Hey," Jake said.

"I need your help."

At the sheriff's station, they were directed to Sheriff Thomson's office.

He then took them to the one and only spare room...the interrogation room.

There they had a computer and the gas station's surveillance tapes from the night of the auction.

"We've been over them," the Sheriff said, "There's nothing."

"Well, if there's nothing…" Jake said on a yawn.

"So where does that leave you?" Sam asked the Sheriff.

He shook his head.

"We've run Brody's and Mercedes' financials, and nothing sticks out. We've gotten forensics back on the office prints. Everyone and their mother was in that office. But the only real evidence we have, is the bill band found in Mercedes' possession."

"And the toe ring and the blue acrylic nail tip."

"Yes...with nothing to connect either of them to the crime," the Sheriff added.

"Mandy says there's a salon in Ocean Shores, that specializes in original nail designs. Whatever that means."

The Sheriff shoved a hand through his hair.

"Okay, that definitely did not come out when I talked to her. I'll check on that."

"And how about her financials? She might be feeling spurned…"

"We're still looking at her, yes. But…"

"But what?"

"Mercedes stole the damn ceramic pot," the Sheriff said. "That looks bad. None of the other players had anything, including motive."

Sam's gut churned.

"An arrest on circumstantial evidence? That's a little weak."

Sheriff Thompson sighed.

"Small town mentality here, man. Give me a break."

"She's innocent. If you didn't find anything on the video, that tells us, that either the money wasn't taken out that night at all, or the thief didn't leave by the front door, because they had access to the back door."

"Like an employee," the Sheriff said. "I know. I'm working on that. Also, we've put out word that there's a reward. Five grand. That might help."

Sam hit a key on the computer, so that it booted up.

And Jake groaned.

"Let me guess. We're going to watch all of the video."

Sam turned up the volume, while Jake sighed and took a seat.

"Yeah. We're going to watch all of the video."

Two hours later, they'd watched people come and go from the building and it had yielded nothing but a gut ache, from all the soda and chips they'd consumed, from the vending machine down the hall.

"Can I go to sleep now?" Jake asked, yawning wide.

Right at that moment, Sam's phone rang. It was his commander.

"Shit," he swore.

Jake looked at him.

"Problem?" he asked.

But Sam held up his hand and answered.

"Evans."

"Tell me you're here in San Francisco," the commander's voice boomed, loud enough for Jake to wince.

"Not yet," Sam said.

The commander's response was a string of oaths. And then,

"What the hell are you doing there?"

"I'm still on vacation," Sam said. "Resting."

"If only," Jake muttered.

"Resting," his commander repeated.

"I'll be back in town for the internal review on Monday," Sam said.

"See that you are, or don't bother coming back at all."

Sam opened his mouth to respond, but the line was dead.

He thought about what would happen if he left town now. He'd get to keep his job...a job that, until recently, had defined him.

Still defined him, even if he felt he'd let everyone in San Francisco down.

But if he left now, Mercedes was possibly going to be arrested, for a crime she didn't commit.

"If you get yourself fired," Jake started, "You could..."

"No," Sam said.

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I don't care. I'm not going to get fired."

Jake sipped his soda and thumbed one-handed through his phone for a minute.

And from inside Sam's pocket, his own phone vibrated.

He pulled it out, saw the incoming text from Jake, and slid him a look.

"Really? You texted me?" he asked.

Jake opened a package of peanut M&M's without answering, tossed one up in the air and caught it in his mouth.

Sam shook his head and read the text out loud.

"...take a job here in town." He looked at Jake. "What?"

Jake shrugged.

"You know you want to stay close to Mercedes."

"I can't."

"Why?"

Sam sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"I'm not right for her."

Jake coughed and said "bullshit" at the same time.

"Look," Sam said, "I'm on a roll right now with screwing things up. I'll disappoint her. In fact, I already have. She deserves better."

"She deserves to be allowed to make up her own mind," Jake said. Then he shrugged again. "Or you can just keep things all fucked up, retire, and then paddleboard for the rest of your life. You know, if real life is too hard for you."

After her ceramic class at the junior college, Mercedes drove through town, towards the beach house.

It was a dark night...a jet-black sky littered with stars that twinkled like diamonds.

She headed up the hill, getting more and more tense, until she pulled into Sam's driveway.

At the sight of his truck there, she let out the breath, she hadn't realized that she'd been holding.

He was still here.

"Not for long," she reminded herself, and got out.

She waved at Mr. Winters, who was getting out of the Dial-A-Ride van.

"You hanging in there?" he asked.

"Always."

He smiled at her clearly standard response, but his surprisingly sharp eyes said he wasn't fooled.

"You're a sweet girl," he said, "Sticking around to watch out for him."

Mercedes let out a low, mirthless laugh.

"You have that backward, don't you? You know Sam watches out for himself."

Mr. Winters nodded.

"Indeed he does. He also watches out for everyone else, always."

She knew this to be true.

She'd managed to hold onto some good resentment when it came to Sam, thanks to their last conversation, but she found herself softening now.

"But I'm really talking about his heart," Sam's grand father went on. "You're watching out for his heart. No one does that. He doesn't usually allow it. But he's allowed it with you. Either you pushed him into it, like his grandmother always did with her nosiness, or he cares about you. A lot."

Mercedes slowly shook her head.

"I think you've misunderstood..."

"You care for him, too."

"Well, of course," she said. 'Way too much.' "But..."

"No use backtracking now. It's all over your face."

She sighed.

"Anyone ever tell you that you're a little nosy too?"

He smiled.

"You'll do, Mercedes. You'll do. Here's some advice...he thinks he's so big and bad, thinks that nothing can get to him. But we both know otherwise. He's been hurt and disappointed by people, who've claimed to care about him. You won't do that. You love him. You're good for him."

Mercedes stared at Sam's grand dad.

"I don't..." she started, then closed her mouth, her heart picking up speed.

She couldn't find her words.

"We're not…" She shook her head and spoke the one truth she knew for a fact. "He's leaving."

"You're good for him," Mr. Winters repeated, with utter steel. "We all see it."

She was almost afraid to ask.

"Who's all?"

"I take it you don't go use social media very much." He smiled again. "Probably for the best."

Shaken, Mercedes went inside.

The house was empty, and she noticed Sam had painted the living room.

She walked through the kitchen, where her attention was caught by a movement outside the window.

So she grabbed a flashlight and headed out to the dock, finding Sam sitting there in the dark, feet dangling in the water, head tipped up, staring at the stars, as if they held the secrets of the universe.

There was a bottle of Scotch at his side.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Drinking."

"Hmmm."

She sat next to him and eyed the bottle.

One-third was gone.

Then she eyed him.

He was probably also one-third gone.

He'd been on the water, she guessed, given that he was in his board shorts, which were so low tonight, as to be almost indecent.

His long-sleeved T-shirt was thin and fit to his leanly muscled torso, and his mouth turned up in a trouble-filled smile, as he studied her right back.

He looked like sex walking...or sitting in this case...and at just the thought, her body quivered.

"I'm mad at you."

"You might have to get in line..." Sam said. He hesitated. "I'm sorry I was a dick."

Mercedes sighed.

"You weren't. I care about you, Sam."

Tilting his head up, he met her gaze, his own fathomless.\

"Mercedes..."

"I care," she repeated. "But I'm not going to let what I feel for you...no matter how it turns out...define my happiness. No one but me can do that."

Sam looked at her for a long moment, then the corners of his mouth quirked.

"You're the strongest person I know, did you know that?"

She stared at him, stunned.

"No."

"You are." He tipped the bottle back and took a long swallow. When he was done, she held out her hand for the bottle.

With an amused glint in his eye, he handed it over.

It took less than a second, for the liquor to burn a hole clear to her belly, and she coughed.

He patted her on the back and took the bottle back, and also took another shot.

Mercedes looked at Sam's profile, barely outlined by the night sky, and felt her heart clench.

Either she was having a heart attack or everyone else was right...she really was falling for him...hard and fast.

"Do you believe in love?" she asked.

And it was his turn to choke.

He lowered the bottle, swiping his mouth with his arm as he stared at her.

"I'm just asking," she said quickly. "Not declaring or anything."

"Okay, but why are you asking?"

Fair enough question, but she'd sort of hoped he'd let it go.

"People keep suggesting, that maybe...I'm falling for you."

He stared at her.

"I don't think I'm authorized to have this conversation."

"Hey, I'm not saying it's true or anything," she said defensively. "But I guess, now I know how you feel about it."

Sam caught her, when she would have made her escape, moving faster than a man with a third of a bottle of Scotch in him, should be able to move.

He held her next to him on the dock in the dark, with the crickets singing and the water slapping up against the pylons below them.

It was so peaceful.

So devastatingly peaceful.

"I enjoy your company," he finally said.

Mercedes turned her head and gave him a glare, but it was wasted on him, because he was staring out at the water as if transfixed.

"I even crave it," he said, sounding insultingly surprised. "More than I'd thought possible."

"Well gee," she said, "Thanks."

He looked at her then.

"But much as I do, you know that this isn't leading to a walk down the aisle, a tricycle in the yard, or us getting old and sharing dentures."

"Do people actually do that? Share dentures?" she asked.

The alcohol had made its way through her system now, so she felt nice and…buzzed.

"Because that's kind of ick…"

"Mercedes..."

"Yeah." She blew out a breath and nodded. "I guess I knew all that already, since we're supposedly not going to have more sex, even though we already blew that."

She paused.

"But tell me again, why we're supposedly not going to have more sex?"

Sam hesitated, like he was having trouble remembering himself.

"Because, someone's going to get hurt."

"Ah."

She nodded and was relieved to find, that Scotch was good for more than just a buzz.

It worked as a numbing agent as well.

"Something we can agree on then, because that does happen to me. Sex, then hurt. Every time so far, actually."

He turned his head, his eyes reflecting regret and sorrow.

"Mercedes..."

Not wanting sympathy, she grabbed the Scotch and toasted him.

"To…" She broke off and considered. "Not having any more mind-blowing sex."

She took another sip.

This one didn't burn nearly as badly. In fact, it went down smoothly, and a delicious warmth began to spread within her.

Sam let out a low chuckle and took the bottle back from Mercedes.

"You think I'm funny?" she asked.

"No. I think you're dangerous as hell. And sexy as hell. And smart as hell...even smarter than me." He toasted her now. "To you, Mercedes."

"For what? Driving you crazy?"

"Well, you are very good at it," he said.

Now she laughed, and tried to reach for the bottle again, but she missed.

And that's when she noticed that her vision was blurry.

She blinked, but it didn't help, so she used both hands to try to make a double-fisted grab for the bottle and still missed.

Sam grinned.

"You're wrecked."

"Am not. So what's the pity party about?"

"This is not a pity party," he replied.

The alcohol hadn't seemed to affect him all that greatly, though the way he was easily slouched back on the dock, was evidence he was feeling pretty damn relaxed.

"All alone on the dock with a bottle of booze feels like a pity party," Mercedes said. "What's the matter?"

Sam looked at her for a minute and then shook his head.

"What the hell, you're not going to remember this anyway."

"I'm not that drunk."

"Yeah you are. You're a lightweight."

She'd have attempted to dispute that, but her tongue wasn't cooperating.

"Tell me," she said.

"It's Thursday."

"All day," she agreed with a nod. In truth, she couldn't remember what day it was.

"I have to go to San Francisco by this weekend," he said.

"To visit?"

"No. I'm visiting here. I'm going back to stay."

Her smile faded.

"Oh," she said softly, "Right."

She'd almost forgotten there for a minute.

He tossed back another shot.

She grabbed the bottle and did the same, and then went to set it down...or at least that's what she meant to do, but she missed the dock and it fell into the water below.

She stared down at the black, choppy water swirling beneath them.

"Whoops!"

Sam stared at the water too.

"I wasn't done with that," he said.

"I'm so sorry!"

She turned to fully face him, surprised to find her world spinning good now.

Apparently she was indeed a lightweight.

"Want to go in after it?"

"Hell no! That water is damn cold tonight."

Mercedes looked up into Sam's face, taking in his scruffy jaw, a mouth that could be both firm and soft, eyes that missed nothing, and felt her breath catch.

He was leaving.

And her mom and Mr. Winters were right...she was in love with him.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You're so pretty."

He smiled.

It was an uninhibited smile.

A wolf smile.

And it made her nipples get very perky.

"I think I'm indicated," she said.

"Intoxicated?"

"Yeah, that."

Sam's smile widened.

'Oh my,' she thought, her heart fluttering at the sight.

Trying to be cool, she leaned and ended up going the same way as the Scotch...into the waves...the cold ass waves.

'Sam was right,' she thought with a gasp, that filled her mouth with water. 'The ocean was damn cold tonight.'

Stay safe!