Chapter Four: Last Call

A/N: Greetings! Thanks for all of the response to "Born Free." I know it was pretty whacked out. I'm trying to alternate between crazy one-shots and fluff ones, so my heart doesn't heart too much. So, this next one is an experiment I wanted to try out. It's basically just a long conversation. It's sparse. Alright, here it goes…


It started out innocently enough.

Mercedes laid across her bed, looking over designs for work that she'd never be caught dead in, when he called. She glanced at the clock on her way to answer the phone.

"2am? I hope you sent her home in a cab."

"I offered," the deep voice on the other end replied. "You busy?"

She looked down at her sketch. "Yeah, but not too busy to hear about your god-awful date."

"It wasn't god-awful, it was just brief."

"It's 2am and you're talking to me instead of having your head between some desperate girl's legs."

"Very nice, 'Cedes."

This was their thing. Best friends since tenth grade glee club, they would call each other every night. But now that they were older, busier and farther away from each other, the calls came whenever they had the time. Meaning, when the world was asleep and their minds' were wandering. Her in New York and him in Nashville. He was an hour behind, but sometimes it felt like a lifetime.

"It wasn't that bad," Sam protested.

Mercedes sat there and waited, knowing he was full of shit.

Sam finally relented, "I ordered us a pizza. Thought a quiet night in would be nice. You know, a cool second date thing."

"Yeah yeah yeah, get to the good stuff. What happened?" Mercedes knew he liked to ramble, and the story wouldn't end until Christmas.

"Patience, 'Cedes. I'm getting to it. We were kissing. The usual. Then her hand went down my pants, and then I started thinking about my Grandma and if she did this kind of stuff on a second date."

"Judging by how many aunts and uncles you have, she probably did more on the first." She chuckled to herself.

"Hey!"

"Sorry."

"So, then she began the… f-f-"

Mercedes grinned through the phone, "Fellatio?"

Sam was too embarrassed to say the word, rolling his eyes he said, "That. I don't know, it felt weird. Like, she'd be down there for a while and nothing was happening. But then I finally, you know…"

"Came?"

"Yes."

"Good lord, Evans. You're a grown man, use your words."

"I came! I went to the bathroom to clean myself off. Then, I looked down and I thought I saw blood."

Mercedes gasped, "No! Was it really blood?"

"It was tomato sauce."

Bigger gasp. "No!"

"She-"

"SHE BLEW YOU WHILE EATING PIZZA?!" Mercedes cackled.

Sam objected, "It's not that funny."

"It's not. It's hilarious! She was multi-tasking like a champ."

"This may be the worst date I've ever had."

"Yet you lived to tell the tale. The next time I see you, I'm gonna eat a slice of pizza." She laughed.

Sam finally got into the spirit and laughed along with her, "As long as you're not chewing when you go down on me."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure my mouth's free."

It suddenly got quiet on both ends of the line. Neither sure of what just happened in the conversation.

Sam broke the silence, "Would you… would you ever… do that?"

Mercedes played dumb, "Sam, I live in New York. Pizza's very common."

"No, I mean… the other thing."

Mercedes gulped. "Oh. Well, I've had worse things in my mouth. You didn't go to Kurt and Blaine's Tofurkey Thanksgiving last year." She forced a chuckle, not sure of where the conversation was going.

"I've thought about you, you know."

Mercedes sat up in the bed, "You have?"

"Yeah. What you feel like. Taste like. I remember how in high school, you'd go to bed in your dad's old softball shirt. Do you still wear that?"

Mercedes looked down at her white t-shirt with red sleeves reading The Batting Bicuspids on the front. "Sometimes."

"You're wearing it right now, aren't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Possibly."

"I knew it!"

"You did not!" She wondered, "Do you still wear those Superman briefs with the 'S' on the front?"

"How'd you know about those?"

"I helped your sister do laundry once."

"Well, I've gotten a little too big for those now."

"I bet."

Sam took his in, "You wanna see?"

Mercedes' eyes grew big, "Sam, you are not texting me a picture of your dick!"

Sam howled across the line, "I'm not gonna text you, Mercy."

"Good." She relaxed.

Sam felt bold, "I wanna see you."

Mercedes' knees drew closer to her chest like a child's would. "It takes fifteen hours to get to where you are."

"Go to your computer," Sam instructed.

Mercedes leaned over the side of the bed and pulled up her laptop. When she lifted the screen, she already saw an incoming message on Skype from "SamTimeNextYr." She clicked his name and his face appeared. His blond hair was smushed on the left side from lying down with the phone. His gray undershirt rested on his toned shoulders. His intense olive eyes invaded her through the webcam on his desktop.

"Hey buddy." He smirked.

Mercedes grimaced, "Don't call me that."

"Why not?" He asked, enjoying this.

"Because… what we're doing, buddies don't do."

"Well, we're a certain kind of buddies. Like, Hawkeye and Black Widow. Or Pepper and Stark… or-"

"Marvel fuck buddies?"

"I haven't fucked you yet, Mercedes." Sam could tell she as shocked by the "yet," but he always knew it was inevitable. The way he'd feel when she talked about another guy. The way he'd tell a joke on a date and the girl wouldn't laugh, but he knew his Mercedes would. The way every sense he had triggered his mind back to her.

"Are you in bed?" He asked. She sheepishly nodded. "Lay down for me."

Mercedes hesitantly took the laptop off of her legs and set it on the edge of the bed. She laid down on her back for him to view the full length of her soft upper body.

"You ARE wearing the shirt," Sam exclaimed, amused.

"What are we doing, Sam?" She shielded her eyes with her forearms.

"Exploring an uncharted side of our friendship. We're Lewis and Clark on destinations unknown."

Mercedes turned to him, " Were they fuck buddies, too?"

"That boat might've been too cramped with Sacagawea."

"I tutored you for a whole semester in U.S. History and that's all you could remember?"

Sam shook his head. "I remember that was when you had those annoying bangs that stopped right below your eyelids, so everytime you had something important to say you had to blow 'em out of your face. And I cut off all of my hair, 'cuz I thought mine were just as annoying to you."

"I was the reason you cut out the lemon juice?"

"You're the reason I do a lot of things, Mercy. Now, I wanna do this. But only if you want to. I mean, we can talk… about anything you want." He simpered, "But, I also noticed you're not wearing a bra and I'm intrigued."

Mercedes cheeks grew red. "Sam!"

"Sorry. Sorry. You told me to use my words."

Mercedes took a deep breath, "Okay."

Sam's lopsided grin informed his approval, "Okay."

"Take off your shirt," Mercedes instructed.

Sam stood up from his chair and all she saw on the screen were abs, more pronounced than the last time she saw them. He sat back down, with his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. Anxious of what she thought of him.

"Have you always looked like this?" Mercedes asked.

Sam immediately covered his chest with his arms. "Why? I mean, I may have gained a few pounds since the last time you saw me. Is—is that bad?"

Mercedes quickly shook her head, "No no no. That's—you look good—good job… with that." For the first time in their friendship, he made her flustered. He like that.

"Your turn." He said softly.

Mercedes fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt, gradually lifting it over her belly. She could feel him watching her in anticipation. She stopped. "This is so weird."

"I'm here, Mercy. It's okay. I am right here."

She closed her eyes and lifted the shirt over her head, exposing her large, brown breasts that bounced when she tossed the shirt on the ground.

"Damn, Mercedes."

She turned to him, nervous about his words. "What?"

"I really wanna kiss you right now."

A soft grin appeared, "Yeah?"

Sam nodded like a happy fool. He turned his head as if trying to see past the webcam. "I can't see. Are you wearing panties?"

Mercedes slid up and showed him her Superman underwear. He laughed.

"They make them for girls too, you know." She admonished. "You want me to take 'em off?"

"No. Not yet." Sam whispered. That 'yet' still floating in the air.

"You still got on YOUR underwear?"

"Mm-hmm. You want me to take 'em off?"

Mercedes nodded, "Mm-hmm."

Sam stood in front of the webcam and pulled down his black boxerbriefs, revealing his long, thick member. Mercedes was determined to maintain her composure. He just stood there, waiting.

"Um, Mercedes? Can I sit down now?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Sorry." Sam snickered to himself and sat back down.

Sam rested him chin in his fist and wondered, "You remember prom?"

"Which one?" Mercedes asked.

"The one where you wore that purple dress with the strap across it."

"Senior prom."

"Yeah. You took Puck, and I took Sugar. Why did we do that?"

"We were afraid to ask each other, I guess."

"I kept trying to find ways to touch you that night, until you danced with me."

Mercedes beamed, "You helped me off of the stage after my solo, and we slow-danced to 'Take My Breath Away.'" She closed her eyes, remembering, "For some reason, I kept wanting you to pull me closer."

"I tried, but Coach Sylvester was watching us."

She laughed, "And you kept pretending like you weren't sniffing me."

"That's because you always smell like… honey and something else."

"Vanilla."

"That's what it is! Vanilla! You still smell like that, 'Cedes?"

She nodded.

"You smell like that right now?"

She stared into the green light above her screen and nodded again.

Sam reached for the screen. "I wish I was on top of you. Tasting you. Smelling you. Brushing your hair out of your face. I wanna feel you, darlin'."

Mercedes instinctually began rubbing her breasts and pinching one of her stiff buds.

"Would you like that?" He asked. "My hands all over you, instead of your own. My lips kissing those thick thighs. Can you feel me kissin' them?"

She breathed a "Yes," as one of her hands traveled into her underwear.

"Are those my fingers inside of you?"

"No, but I want them to be." She groaned.

"Why's that?"

"Yours are bigger."

"But they are mine, darlin'. They're inside of you and they want you. Do you want me, 'Cedes? Do you?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I want you, Sam." Mercedes cried. "I want you."

She heard him panting, and for a brief moment she opened her eyes and looked at the screen. His eyes were shut and his plump lips curved into an "O," as she heard him pump himself. Her name at the tip of his tongue like a fervent prayer.

She rode her fingers, arching her back to the thought of him coming inside of her with his hands pinning her arms above her head. She wailed his name like it was the last note to her favorite tune. Her breathing still erratic, she turned to watch him finish. She felt like an intruder, as if she was watching some teenage boy jerk off to a pinup with his Kleenex in hand. Tugging himself just right to the thought of her. Then the epiphany came: this probably wasn't the first time he jerked off to her. Or the second, or the third, or even the tenth by how long he was lasting. She laid on her arm and savored the sight, making bets with herself as to which version of her name he'd cry. He came to "Mercy."

He swallowed in a delighted laugh, and looked at her. Steadying his heartbeat, "Apparently we're buddies who do this." He touched his screen. "You're absolutely stunning."

An anxiousness grew inside of Mercedes. "Sammy, I have to finish looking over theses sketches before Isabelle kills me."

Sam was taken aback. "Oh. Yeah. O-okay. I have a pretty busy day in the studio tomorrow, so. I'll—I'll talk to you later, I guess."

"Absolutely."

"Goodnight, Mercedes."

With a watery smile, Mercedes signed off.

He called her the next afternoon to see if she was all right, but it went straight to her voicemail. "Hey, 'Cedes. It's me. Um, Sam… Evans. I—I was just calling to see… How are you? Call me when you get this. Bye."

He waited for her to call him back… and waited… and waited. He didn't know how long to wait, but he figured a week was enough. He called again. Same message. Same awkwardness in the pit of his gut. With the final message, he decided to call at night this time. Late. Maybe she would be asleep, not think about it and just answer the phone. She didn't. "Mercedes, I'm sorry that we did what we did if that means I can't talk to my best friend. That's you, by the way. Please call me back, okay? Anytime. Just call… please. "

Mercedes listened to the message for the fifth time that day before she turned off her phone. She felt the strong arms of the model she was assigned to tighten around her waist in the dressing room.

"You still coming out with me tonight?" Brody asked. "Karaoke hasn't been the same without you." He rested his chin on her shoulder, looking at the both of them in the mirror.

"What would we sing?" She laughed.

"'One on One.' Hall and Oates."

"Well then, I suggest you put on some pants." She stepped away to see Brody in his boxers and not the suit she hung up for him.

Instead, he shook himself out of his boxers and grabbed Mercedes by her pencil skirt. She pulled down her thong and let him ravage her against the changing room door. Her short legs wrapped around him, as he plowed into her. With each thrust, she saw HIM. The flash of green eyes. The pucker of his full pink lips. Tuffs of unruly blond hair. She looked into the mirror at the muscular physical grinding inside of her, and she even remembered the dimpled dents in his lower back. She couldn't wait for this to be over, so she could chastise herself in the comfort of her own home.

By the time she walked down the corridor to her apartment, she was drunk. She was drunker than drunk. How she realized what floor she lived on was a miracle. But she was conscious enough to say excuse me when she stepped over the homeless man and unlock her door.

"Mercedes?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I gave all my change to the cab driver, but you have a blessed night." She walked in, but the man grabbed her arm to stop her.

"I have mace… somewhere!" She exclaimed.

"'Cedes." Her vision focused for a moment and she saw him. Blond and unshaven with a duffle bag over his shoulder. And just as quickly, she passed out.

She woke up to bacon. Wafts of it coming from the kitchenette just yards away from her. She wanted to get up and makeout with whomever she brought home that thought to fix breakfast, but her hangover told her to put the pillow back over her head. She heard the visitor climb onto the other side of the bed and set a plate beside her head.

"Have some." The deep voice offered. Mercedes reached out from under the covers and searched for a piece of bacon, but with every grasp, the plate got farther away until she ended up with her hand on his lap and her head out of its smothered cocoon. So, she hadn't dreamt him last night.

"What are you doing here, Sam?"

"I wanted to make sure you were still alive." He handed her two aspirin and a glass of water. "Take these and then eat the toast."

A stubborn Mercedes was the worst Mercedes. "No thank you. I don't want any."

"Will you just take the damn things!" Sam yell, triggering her headache.

She clamped her head and muttered, "You're an asshole.

"Yeah, well you made me this way."

"Why. Are. You. Here. Sam?"

"You! I drove fifteen and a half hours for you. Because I was worried about you! Because I was thinking about you! If I hurt you. Or if you were mad at me. Because I missed you. I haven't seen your face or heard your voice in almost a month. And I haven't stood in front of you or held your hand or whatever in how long."

Almost to herself, "Two years."

"Two years?! Two years, Mercedes. So I'm here. And I'm gonna sit here and sit here and sit here until your head stops hurting and you talk to me."

He started biting into her toast, waiting for her to respond. She huffed and stuck out her hand for the aspirin. She popped them, chugged the water and snatched what was left of her toast out of Sam's hand.

Sam felt relieved. "Good. So-"

At his words, Mercedes laid back down and placed her pillow back over her head, with her back towards him.

By the time the sun disappeared so did the throbbing in Mercedes' head. Her cellphone buzzed.

"Would you look at that? Your cellphone rings. You can answer it, too?" Sam was still there and laying atop her covers.

Mercedes answered, "Hey… I'm doing better… I had a good time last night too… Yeah… Oh, those? You-" She turned around to the sight of Sam and his clenched jaw, she carefully tuned around and whispered into the receiver, "You can keep 'em if you want… Your next fitting? It's, um, Monday… Okay… I'll see you then." She hung up her phone and dreaded the conversation that was to follow.

"Who was that?" Sam asked nonchalantly.

"Just… a model Isabelle assigned me to."

"The model, is she going to be wearing what you picked out?"

"He's wearing a suit I designed, actually."

"Exciting times for you, then."

"I'd like to think so."

Sam hesitantly reached for her hand in the darkness. "Do… do you wanna be with me?" He asked, staring straight ahead.

Mercedes hung her head. "I don't know. I'm scared, Sam."

He turned to her. "Me too. But that's a good thing."

"But why now? Why not two years ago. Or when we were in high school? Or when I came to visit you in Nashville?"

Sam bit into his jaw, "I wanted to be with you then, too."

Mercedes growled into her pillow.

"Is now a bad time to tell you that I'm in love with you?" Mercedes hit him in the face with her pillow.

After the commotion died down, "You like this model dude?"

"About as much as he likes wearing clothing."

Sam looked confused at the statement. "No, Sam."

Mercedes sat on the bed, "It's just that all of the things that I felt for you for so long, I thought they were… one-sided. And I accepted that. But I didn't mean to hurt you, Sam. I'm sorry."

He brushed the hair for her face and looked into her doe eyes, cupping her cheeks for emphasis. "I lied in my last message. I'm not sorry about what we did. You're my best friend, and hopefully more. I mean, if that's alright with you."

"I want to say yes-"

"Then say yes, 'Cedes. Please."

"But-"

"No. No 'but.'"

"We even live far from each other."

"That can change, but my feelings for you won't."

He kissed her temple. "Darlin'," Sam whispered. "You gotta jump with me, okay?"

Mercedes closed her eyes so the tears wouldn't come, but they did anyway. Sam kissed the first trail, tasting the salt until he reached her lips. His bottom lip parted the seam to her full pair. She wrapped her arms around him in a lost embrace and deepened the kiss. Sam pulled away to read her face, what she was feeling, if her eyes full of the same passion as his. Her eyes were still closed as she licked her lips.

She looked to see her amorous voyeur. "I miss you, Sammy."

"You too." Sam's lips crashed into hers. At her gasp, he let his tongue into her accepting mouth.

Their moment of passion was interrupted by Sam's stomach growling, and Mercedes laughed into his chest. "Are you hungry?"

Sam looked down, red-faced. "I guess."

"Mmm, what do you want?"

"I don't know, you got any suggestions?"

Mercedes said, amusing herself, "I could order some pizza."


A/N: I decided to give Mercedes a bit of Hummelberry's life for the day, because we'll probably never know what the hell she's doing in L.A. besides an offensive throw away line, and also because I can. Wait, so do this mean the next one-shot's gonna be crazy? :S Oh, well… Review if you'd like, folks.