What is this - two updates in less than 24 hours? OMG! It's because this next part has been written for quite some time and it's one of my favorite parts of the whole story, especially the conversation between Sam and Santana. And if I don't go ahead and post it, I'll just keep editing it like a crazy person. So anyway - enjoy and please let me know what you think! The reviews keep me motivated - thank you so much!

"Your woman is wasted."

This pronouncement came from Santana as she dropped onto the couch beside Sam, where he was taking a break. He followed her gaze to where Mercedes was dancing with Brittany and Sugar, all three of them laughing as they shimmied and spun together, their bare feet kicking up sand as they did.

"So is yours," Sam replied mildly. "Probably about what? Three sips away from her shirt coming off?"

"You wish," Santana cracked. Her voice turned speculative. "Or you wish Mercedes would drink enough to take her shirt off."

Sam shook his head, knowing she didn't really mean either statement. "Nah. She'll dance her ass off all night long, but the clothes aren't going anywhere in front of other people." He grinned, giving his statement a little more thought before continuing, "Honestly, probably not going anywhere at all tonight. She's drunk enough that she's gonna pass out before anything comes off."

"Too bad for you, I guess," Santana laughed, looking over at the group of women again before glancing back at Sam. "You really love her, don't you?"

The question took Sam a little by surprise. Five years of dating, another year living together and now more than two years married – the obvious answer was yes. He looked over at Santana. "At least as much as you love Britt," he finally replied. "If not more."

"Not possible."

"So, we'll call it even then."

"It's scary, right? To love someone that much?" Santana almost seemed to be thinking out loud and Sam wasn't sure if she really expected an answer to her question or not.

"Sometimes," he finally said and Santana nodded.

Sam shifted on the couch to face her, really look at her. "What's this about, Santana? You getting cold feet?"

Santana shook her head. "Of course not. Not about marrying Brittany anyway, but, I don't know, maybe just marriage in general. It just feels – so big. Especially for us. It's only been a few years that it's even been legal everywhere."

Sam nodded, looking pensive. "Yeah, I get that. Did you know barely fifty years ago it wouldn't have been legal everywhere for me to marry Mercedes, either?"

"God," Santana grumbled. "It's such bullshit. Why can't the government just let people do what the fuck they want to do, as long as it's not harming anyone else?"

"Your mouth to God's ears," Sam agreed. "Anyway, yeah. Marriage is big. And it isn't necessarily easy, but it is worth it."

"Of course you'd say that," Santana said, grinning wickedly. "You had to marry her if you ever wanted to get laid."

Sam just shook his head. "You know that's not true."

Santana laughed. "Yeah, I know," she conceded, looking contemplative. "So – you're glad you got married?"

"Of course I am," Sam said, looking back over at his wife, a smile playing across his lips as he watched her move to the music, dancing with Rachel and Tina now, before he looked back at Santana and said, "At our wedding, once we signed that certificate and said the vows and put the rings on and all, I just remember thinking, like, holy shit, she's my wife now. I know it's a little cheesy and corny and you're probably going to give me shit about it for years, but like – there's just so much power in that word – wife - it's just, it's everything."

Santana grinned at him. "You're right, I am gonna give you shit about that. You're so whipped."

Sam shrugged. "Like you're not?"

Santana narrowed her eyes at him but let the comment slide, knowing it wasn't worth the argument, seeing as he was pretty much right.

"Look," Sam said, his eyes still on Mercedes, "the bottom line is that marrying her is the smartest thing I've ever done. Everything is better knowing she's my partner, she's got my back and I've got hers and even if we fight about stupid shit, neither one of us is going anywhere, we'll figure it out. She's my other half. And," he added, unable to resist throwing in a mild impression and modifying the Sweet Home Alabama line just a bit, "I like being able to kiss her any time I want." He turned back to look at Santana. "I really do hope that's how you feel about Britt."

Santana rolled her eyes even as she also nodded and reached out to pat Sam's cheek. "Thanks, Trouty. You're my favorite ex-boyfriend, you know."

Sam laughed. "Because I'm the only one you didn't have to pretend to enjoy having sex with."

Santana considered this. "That's – really not wrong actually," she conceded with a laugh.

"Thanks for letting us 'crash' your party," Sam added.

"Whatever," Santana said. "You dumbasses are my family, whether I like it or not. Besides, any party that involves Blaine Warbler's inability to hold his liquor is practically a guaranteed good time."

Sam glanced over at where Blaine was dancing with abandon with – or really more around – Kurt and had to agree. A cheer went up then and they both looked over to see that, while Brittany was still wearing her shirt, the buttons had been completely undone. This phased no one at this point in their long years of friendship.

Santana laughed and stood up. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, I guess. Dance, Trouty?" she said and Sam stood up.

"Ah, why not?" he agreed as they joined the group in the sand, nearly everyone out there now, and Mercedes' eyes lit up as she reached for Sam's hand, pulling him into the joyful mix.

They all had just enough musical training to be at least decent dancers, although of course Mike and Brittany were still the best of the bunch.

Everyone danced with each other – all of them mixing and mingling through the fast-moving dance songs – "Uptown Funk" slid into "Hey Ya!" into "Last Friday Night" into "Get Lucky" and they all kept moving, hair flying, arms waving, having an absolute blast. They danced in a big group for a long while, but as the music slowed down to older songs like the Beach Boys and "God Only Knows" and then Al Green's "Let's Stay Together," the couples drifted together and then people started calling it a night. Tina and Mike slipped away first, headed towards the boys' house after a quick chat with Finn and Rachel, who bowed out soon after that and went up the steps to the girls' house after Finn helped Puck get Artie back up the steps to the boys' deck. Eventually it was only a few of them left by the fire, as the music turned again, a little raunchier, Bruno launching into "That's What I Like" and pretty soon it was impossible to tell where Santana stopped and Brittany began. Blaine was drunkenly grinding his ass against his husband, who admittedly didn't seem to mind at all. And Mercedes pressed herself against her husband, pulling his head down to hers for a searing kiss.

"You're so hot," she said breathlessly when they broke apart and Sam tried not to laugh. He knew where this was going and it was not where Mercedes, in her inebriated state, seemed to think it was going.

"Is that why you married me?" he teased and Mercedes grinned back at him.

"Mostly."

He did laugh then. "Tomorrow when you're sober, I'm gonna make sure to remind you that you said that."

"I'm not drunk," she protested, but when he took a step away from her, she was completely unsteady on her feet, swaying back and forth in front of him.

"Yeah-huh, sure you're not, honey" he said, wrapping his arm around her waist and steering her towards the steps. "C'mon, let's get you to bed."

Mercedes nodded, giggling, as they headed up the steps to the girls' house. "Ooh, yes. Let's go to bed," she said, pushing the back door open and pulling him through with her.

Damn, Sam thought to himself as they walked inside. He hadn't been in this house yet and it was definitely the nicer of the two in the cove.

"Baby, where is your room?" he asked and she waved her hand in the general direction of the back hallway. He was trying to speak quietly, not knowing if anyone else in the house was asleep yet or not, but he must have failed because he heard Quinn's voice coming from the second room. He supposed the blame wasn't all on him at least, since his wife couldn't stop giggling.

"Second door," she called out.

"Thanks," he said as they got to the room. Quinn was sitting on the bed in her pajamas, scrolling through her phone, and she looked up and smiled.

"She is so far gone," she whispered.

Sam grinned. "Yeah, I know," he whispered back, as he got Mercedes over to the end of the bed. She sat down and then crawled up to lay her head on her pillow, turning her head and blinking at Quinn.

"Hey," she said, patting Quinn's arm and then pointing at Sam. "That gorgeous man is my husband."

Quinn laughed as Sam rolled his eyes. "I know, sweetie," Quinn said gently. "I was at your wedding."

"Okay," Mercedes said. "I'm just making sure you know."

Quinn shook her head as Mercedes somehow got herself into a sitting position and reached her hand out towards Sam. "Aren't you going to stay here with me?"

Before he could attempt an answer, Mercedes added, "You need to stay here." Satisfied with her declaration, she laid back down on her side and literally within seconds, she was out cold. Which is exactly what Sam knew was going to happen. He could count on one hand – maybe both hands – the number of times Mercedes had been truly, really drunk in the years they'd known each other and it always ended the same way. She would get super touchy-feely and affectionate – and then as soon as he got her to lie down, she would be done for the night. He could admit that it had been a little disappointing the first time or two, but once he knew the pattern, he'd found the entertainment value in it. Honestly, even if she was just her more usual giggly, mildly tipsy, the fact that it was way too entertaining to watch Mercedes drink was probably the biggest reason why he never really drank more than a beer or two.

Sam looked at Quinn. "I'm so sorry."

Quinn laughed softly. "It's okay." She got up off the bed as she added, "You should stay with her. There's extra bunks upstairs, I can take one of those."

"Oh, no, I don't want to kick you out of your room," Sam protested, "That's not fair."

"Really, it's fine. I think a few other roommate switches have been made already." She grinned at him. "Besides, I don't want to be the first one she sees if she wakes up hungover and you're not here like she told you to be."

Sam had to admit she had a point. "Well – if you're sure…"

"I am," Quinn said, grabbing her phone and charger and heading towards the door.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"No problem," she replied, patting his arm as she walked out of the room.

Sam sighed before kicking his shorts off and getting into bed in his t-shirt and underwear, working to get the sheet and bedspread out from under Mercedes and then pulling it back up over both of them. It took a little more maneuvering, but he managed to get her bra off too. Knowing that it was often the first thing she took off when getting home at night, he was reasonably sure she wouldn't be happy about sleeping in it.

Finally ready to lay down and go to sleep, Sam stopped for a minute and just looked at her, brushing some stray hair off her face. God, she was so beautiful. He still wasn't sure what lucky star he'd been born under, that she'd been his all these years – but he was so damn grateful.

He slid up behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist and kissing the tip of her ear, before muttering, "You're lucky I love you," even as he thought to himself that he was even luckier that she loved him and then closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.