Chapter Ten: Beer Pong

A/N: Hey y'all. This was suppose to be posted for the Samcedes week on Tumblr, but it got long and pervy and I felt like a prudish grandma while typing. Anyways, this was meant for the 'Reconnecting' theme... in the broadest way possible.


Why was she here? She didn't want to be.

Quinn's birthday parties were always THE event. Which is exactly why Mercedes loathed them.

Each year was a lavish theme. This year was no exception. Guests were required to dress as their favorite "Q" thing.

Everyone cheated. Mercedes stood against a streamer-covered wall, in her cut-offs and buttoned-up flannel, nursing the same ginger ale she had when the party started.

Anything to avoid him. Twenty yards at each turn was more than enough. Like resisting magnets, she pushed away from him the closer he edged throughout the room. She ended up at the epic glass dining room table, plastered in red solo cups, and an overjoyed Kurt ready to play a game.

"Oh good!" He hailed. "You can play with me. Blaine's decided to be designated driver for the evening, but beer pong is the only thing to do at this party that doesn't involve having to watch Rachel steal the mic from the DJ."

Mercedes gladly accepted the invitation. Her thoughts were scattered, but spending time with Kurt was exactly what she needed. The enlivened girl picked up one of the ping pong balls. "So, how did you get past Quinn with just a t-shirt and jeans?"

Kurt tugged at the shell bracelet around his wrist. "No, I'm Brian and Blaine with his blond wig over there is Justin. So together we're-"

The realization hit her with a bashful shake of her head. "Queer as Folk. Wow, am I allowed to be offended for you?"

"Hush," he rolled his eyes, and aimed a ping pong ball at her buttoned-up cleavage, only to have it swatted away. Instead, it hit the hardened bare chest of a blond angel that popped up when she wasn't paying attention.

"Holy hell," she spouted beneath her breath.

"Hello, Mercedes," Cupid blared. Over-shouting the music by just a smidge.

She tried to focus back on the game, when Kurt pointed to the row of cups in front of her. He'd scored when she wasn't looking. "Hi, Sam." The young brown woman downed her drink, and swiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Hi." He repeated. His insides were blaring "Be cool," but the sweat on his brow roared the panic on his features.

"Oh god, not this again," Kurt grimaced. "Sam, take my spot. If I have to watch you two pretend to avoid each other for more than two seconds, I'll grow a face twitch."

Mercedes looked over in displeasure at her traitorous friend. "That's okay. Kurt, stay. We haven't finished playing."

"I'll play," the blond chimed in. "Was there a bet?"

"No. No bet." she answered solemnly, watching Kurt already back in his boyfriend's arms across the room.

"Then, let's make one." Sam maneuvered his way to the other side of the table. Those damn angel wings were giving him a fit. Much worse than the snug tightie whities he was hiding behind the row of cups. "I make three shots and you have to have an actual conversation with me. Not this whole fidgety thing."

Mercedes glared, "Fine. And what if I make three shots first?"

That lopsided grin of his surfaced. "I think it's safe to say that's not gonna happen. But if it does, then I'll leave you alone. And we won't talk about... what you don't wanna talk about."

She thought about it for a moment. Weighing pros and cons. "I'll take that bet."

Wide calloused hands clasped in anticipation as he volunteered. "Ladies' first."

Mercedes picked up a ping pong from the edge of the table, and attempted to focus. His abs weren't helping. Sam tried to break her concentration by asking. "So, who exactly are you supposed to be?" He glanced over at her high-waisted cut-offs.

"I'm not listening to you, Evans. I'm trying to beat you." It was no use. Her half-assed toss bounced off the rim of a cup. "I'm Queen Bey. Flawless."

He cocked his head to the side, trying to get the full picture. "That's cheating."

"Really, Cupid? You do realized Cupid begins with a 'C' and not a 'Q,' right?"

"I... do now." Without much effort, Sam's ball landed directly into the cup to the right of her. "I like the shirt."

"Thanks." she took a full swallow of the beer in front of her.

"I forgot I left it at your apartment."

His offhand remark was enough to make her choke on her last swallow, coughing slightly. A passable thought as to why there was a red, flannel shirt in her closet didn't hold her attention but for a moment, earlier that evening.

This was ridiculous. "You know what?" Sam took the remaining two ping pong balls in his hands and sank them in respective cups to finish this. "Can we just talk now? Please?"

Mercedes found herself growing irritated. Why was he frustrated with her? The game was over. "We are talking."

"This is... c'mon." Sam hurtled around the table, and took her hand. As they navigated through the crowd of guests in bejeweled q-tip ensembles, Mercedes instinctively held his hand in return.

"Sam... Sam!" They paced past the bathroom line, where Sam shoved his way through the powder room door. They'd kill him once they came back out. "Sam! What do you want?!"

"You! I want you!" Sam locked the door behind them, much to the anger of the line outside. "Aren't you sick of this? I love you. You love me."

"I-"

"You love me. This waiting until the time is right business is crap, okay? You know it and I know it. Because there's never gonna be a right time. I'm ready. I'm here. And I wanna be with you more than anything." His index finger toyed with the collar of her shirt, as he tried his best to ignore the lump in his throat. "We've waited for each other long enough."

There was nowhere seemly for Mercedes to touch except his shoulders. As broad and firm as they were, she could trust herself touching them. "Things have changed, Sam. Don't you feel like we're different now?"

He shrugged, "Sure. We're suppose to change as we get older. But somethings- the important things- they stay the same."

Her brow furrowed, finally getting up enough nerve to look at him. "Like what?"

The blond took one of her hands from off of his shoulder and rested it across his chest. Mercedes felt the rapid beat of his heart, causing her to duck her head in amusement. "You drive me crazy. That hasn't changed," he purred. With his other hand, he locked his fingers with hers. "How we fit. That hasn't changed either. We compliment each other. Hard and soft. Tall and short. Nice and mean."

She growled a "Hey!"

"Face it, Mercedes, we are perfect for each other. You're just gonna have to accept it. Or in another 20 or 30 years from now, I'm gonna stop saying it." That smug, all-knowing grin was going to be the death of her.

Mercedes leaned forward on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his solid chest. Her pout worked as a stethoscope, feeling each nervous palpitation. She breathed him in. "You smell the same. Taste the same." The salt of his skin was delicious on her palate, which she sampled with tiny darts of her tongue.

"Mer- Mercedes" was all Sam managed to breathe out.

"Shh," the short woman chided. "Just kiss me." Her doe eyes finally looked up at him in a quiet plea. Those words were enough. Rough, pale hands sought out the plump, rose of her cheeks, pulling her in for a desperate kiss. With gusto, Mercedes took it as an invitation to push her kissing partner against the towel rack. That was surely to leave a nasty bruise across the top of his back, but that was more than fine with him. Each kiss made him dizzier, more oblivious, more precarious.

She reached between them, and cupped Sam's hardness through the white briefs. "Can we?" Mercedes asked rather meekly.

He groaned at her touch, even more so when he realized his stupid costume didn't have pockets. "I don't have anything."

Mercedes reached over to the medicine cabinet, scanning the shelves while she felt him caress the sides of her arms. It was bare, except for potpourri. Same for beneath the sink. "What kind of party is this?" she whined.

"I don't think Quinn intends for people to make love in her spare bathroom." Sam kissed into the part at the top of her hair.

She couldn't help but moan against his neck, "We should've gone upstairs."

"Next time."

Mercedes huffed in defeat as his lips trailed her forehead. Her lips, on the other hand, searched for his on instinct to feel him closer. Their tongues found solace somewhere in the middle, when she could not take it anymore. The impassioned woman shoved her hands down the back of his briefs, with a desire to feel the friction of his erection against her middle.

Sam untucked her red flannel and undid the button to her shorts, taking his time with the zipper. The fishnets were beastly, coming between Sam's hand and the inside of her jeans.

Mercedes slid her hands around the front of his briefs to take hold of the dick that she surely missed. Easing up and down the base, she smiled when she heard him hiss, and chose to swipe the tip with her thumb as reward. With his pre-cum spread against him, she turned around and presented him with her backside. Shorts and fishnets to her ankles. Leaning forward against the sink, she played with her arousal and reached back for him. Such an unexpected predicament to find themselves in.

Sam hunched over her, pecking the back of her neck, while he spread the cheeks of her ass to cup his hardness. His hands reached in front of them, as his fingers found their way into her slit. Long and experienced, curving just the way she needed them.

All she could do was moan, while her entire body felt electric. His lips clamped the tip of her ear, as he growled, rubbing himself against her faster and faster.

"Just wait until later tonight," Sam murmured against the hull of her ear. "When I'm inside you. Those thick thighs of yours wrapped around me all tight. Begging me to go harder and faster."

"Harder," she cried. "Faster."

She was almost there. Almost. There. Sam begged her to look up, and caught her eyes in the mirror. Her lips heaving in that lovely "O"-shape, as she ground her ass against him. A few flicks against her hardened button and she was done for. Mewling above the sinkhead and ready for him to run against her faster. He grunted into her hair.

With his hands finally on her waist as she came down, Sam writhed against her in the most unglamorous of ways. A choked out yowl and an explosion on the small of her back.

Mercedes chuckled, intertwining her fingers with his against the countertop. Content in their perfect fit. She reached for one of the maroon napkins below their clasp, and handed him one to clean her and himself off. A few wipes and a delighted smack on her bum was the impetus to get dressed. Sam tucked himself back in and assisted with Mercedes' bottoms, amused as she repeatedly fussed over her hair in the mirror.

"Mercy, you look fine. They're gonna yell at us when we go outside anyway."

She shrugged, "I still wanna look good." She turned around and tossed her arms around his neck. Ankle-booted tiptoes leant her against his lips. Over and over. "And then we can go wherever you wanna go, okay?"

"Open the fuckin' door!" Someone pounded on the frame, repeatedly.

Sam chuckled against her skin, "I can go first. That way you can shield yourself with my wings."

"Okay," Mercedes demurred, as she reached out and took his hand. Thumbs grazed and kisses on shoulders. "Lead the way, Cupid."


A/N: Welp, I hope that was okay. Tell me what you think in the reviews, if that's what you're in to. Someone sent me a really strange prompt this week and I'm almost tempted to do if for "Two Simple" words. Hmmm.