I've had it in my head for a while to re-write S6 from a Samcedes slant and this may or may not become part of that one day or might just stand alone forever. It came out of a weird day that left me feeling kind of restless, so, you know, here's some characters acting impulsively. Also, I totally wrote this in about 45 minutes and posted it without really reviewing so please excuse any errors. Enjoy!

"There you are."

Sam's voice cuts through the darkness, the chill of the fall evening, and Mercedes groans inwardly.

'Keep it together, Jones,' she thinks to herself. 'You've come this far.'

She shrugs, the motion shaking loose the blanket she'd grabbed from the Berrys' couch before she headed out to their patio and she quickly shifts it back up around her shoulders.

"I'm surprised you noticed I was gone," she retorts, wincing at the too-sharp tone in her voice. 'Shit. 'Great job keeping it together.'

Sam frowns as he walks around to sit in the chair beside hers. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing," she says, forcing her tone back to the overly cheery and understanding one she's been using every time she talks with him lately. "It doesn't mean anything."

"Bullshit," Sam shoots back. "I know better than that. What's wrong?"

She lets out a short laugh. 'Damnit.' He's not wrong – he does know better. He knows her better than just about anyone in the world.

"Nothing's wrong," she insists.

Sam sighs and goes to stand up. "Yeah, I don't believe that, but okay. You're out here missing a great party for no reason at all?"

She laughs shortly again. "How would you know what a great party it is when you've missed half of it yourself to go do God knows what with Rachel?"

'Shit, shit, shit.'

Sam sits back down, looking both stunned and a little angry. "What the hell, Mercedes? You're pissed about me and Rachel? You told me to date her, she said you told her to date me, you said we're just friends, you said you're dating that Tank guy – what the actual fucking hell?"

Mercedes rubs a hand across her face, keeping it over her eyes as she mutters, "Forget I said that. I shouldn't have said that."

"Too late," Sam snaps. "You said it and I heard it. So explain."

She stays quiet, hands still pressed to her face as she sighs and then finally shakes her head. "I don't know how." She hates hearing the catch in her voice, hates feeling like she's going to cry.

Sam must have heard the catch in her voice too because his face softens and his voice is gentler when he says, "Okay. Let's start with the me and Rachel part. I thought you were okay with it?"

She just shakes her head again. "I guess maybe I'm not."

Sam nods slowly, absorbing this statement. "Okay. What about the you and Tank part?"

Mercedes sighs, dropping her hands from her face to twist them nervously together in her lap, looking down at them as she talks. "I don't know. Tank is – he's perfect. On paper. He's everything I always thought I wanted – my ideal man. Except – except – that I'm not so sure he actually is the ideal. He doesn't make my heart race. Doesn't make me laugh like a fool watching stupid TV at two in the morning." She pauses, considers her next words as they come into her head, thinks for a moment that she probably shouldn't say them, and then, in the next moment, decides she's just gonna lay it out there. She's already embarrassed herself, she's a little bit tipsy, and what good has living in denial about it all done for her anyway? She looks up, meets his eyes and finishes, "He doesn't make me want to throw away everything I've ever believed about sex and marriage and sex before marriage and – " her voice trails off as she watches her words register with him, his eyes widening, his jaw dropping a little.

"So yeah," she continues, "to answer what will probably be your next question, no. You and I – I guess we're not just friends. And I guess it took me way too long to figure that out and now everything's all fucked up." She holds her hands out, palms up to the sky and shrugs. "Story of my life." She shakes her head. "So forgive me for sneaking out of the party when I couldn't stand to watch the two of you together anymore."

"Okay," Sam says. "Forgiven." He stands up and heads towards the house, taking a few steps before turning to look at her. "Wait here, okay? I'll be right back."

Mercedes is so thoroughly confused at his reaction that all she can manage to do is just nod kind of stupidly and sit there for a few minutes. Finally, though, she shakes herself out of her stupor and stands up. She's taken about two steps towards the back door when Sam suddenly bursts back through it and stops short in front of her.

"Okay," he says. "That's taken care of so –"

"What's taken care of?"

He gives her a look that plainly says it should be obvious and says, "Ending things with Rachel."

"Ending th – what?"

"Yeah," he says, still looking at her like she's clearly not catching on, "So I can do this." He closes the gap between them, cradling her face in his hands, his big hands that have always somehow made her feel small and delicate, before bringing his lips crashing down on hers. She lets out a small gasp of surprise, but her body reacts instinctively, her arms going around his neck, her body melting into his as she kisses him back.

They're both breathing hard when they finally break apart and Mercedes is struggling to catch her breath as she says, "Sam, I –"

"No," he interrupts her, his hands sliding from her face down to her waist. "My turn. My turn to talk, my turn to call the shots in this relationship. I should have done this back in New York, but whatever, I fucked some things up too. But listen to me now – you are not breaking up with me and you are not refusing to get back together with me. We love each other, damnit, and we're going to figure out how to make this relationship work, no matter where we are – here in Lima or in New York or on the road or WHATEVER – we're going to do it together, okay?"

Mercedes nods, a little dumbfounded. "Okay," she agrees.

"And speaking of doing it – I don't care when we do. If you want to do it tonight, awesome. If you want to wait until we get married, that's awesome too, even if that's years from now. You can keep calling the shots on that. There's lots of other ways to be intimate and maybe stretch the rules a little and we'll figure them out, whatever you're comfortable with, but we'll figure it out TOGETHER. Got it?"

Mercedes takes a step back, crosses her arms over her chest, and narrows her eyes at him. "If I say no?"

Sam shrugs. "Well, then you sit out here alone at a party, being sad and jealous. And, you know, maybe a little guilty about Rachel getting dumped at a party to say goodbye to her childhood home."

Mercedes considers this. "Okay. Can I ask one question?"

"Okay."

"Have you slept with Rachel?"

"No." The answer is too sure, too immediate to be a lie and she relaxes as he expands his answer. "We've kissed a few times. That's it."

She nods. "Okay. It wouldn't necessarily be a dealbreaker if you had, I mean, I told you to go be with other women. I just wanted to know."

"I understand that," Sam says quietly. "So now I have a question for you."

"You know I didn't sleep with Tank," she retorts, almost teasingly.

Sam shakes his head. "Well, yeah. But when are you going to break up with him?"

Mercedes hesitates. "I already did," she finally admits. "Last week, for all the reasons I said before. And I didn't say anything because of all the other reasons you already know."

Sam nods slowly, absorbing this news. "Okay then," he says finally. "So you're in? We're in this together? No running when things get hard or when we feel insecure? We talk it through, we stick it out?"

Mercedes nods back, stepping back closer to him again, arms around his waist as he wraps his arms around her too. "Deal."

He kisses her again then, stopping only when she pulls back and says, "Oh and we're getting married?"

Sam grins, shrugs. "Uh, yeah. One day."

Mercedes presses her lips together as if she's trying to keep from smiling. "Okay, well, I'm gonna need a better proposal than that. Eventually."

Sam laughs. "Deal," he says, echoing her earlier word choice as he pulls her back in close and kisses her again.