Hey everyone! This was probably one of the easiest chapters to write. As always, I tried to add a bit of humor. For lovers of Klaine, Blaine and Kurt make another appearance in this chapter. You also find out what Puck's epic plan is and I promise it won't disappoint. Sadly, this is the second to last chapter of this epic tale. I'm also working on a new Samcedes story that also takes place in New York City. What can I say? I love New York! As always, thanks for everyone who has read and reviewed my story. Thanks for adding me and my story on your favorites list. You guys have made me laugh with your comments and have motivated me to continue on even though I was dealing with really bad writer's block. Before this story, I was never into writing humorously. I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors. I definitely need a Beta. So without further ado, here's another awesome chapter of Mercedes & Sam's Epic Night Out.

Twelve

Windsor Day School for Boys

11 Madison Avenue

Upper East Side

Sam left Puck's apartment with a bit more hope than he expected. He'd known Puck since their days at Park Side Montessori and thought he knew almost everything about his best friend, but he didn't know that he was such a hopeless romantic. Puck kept this secret side of him guarded behind a badass façade. He was convinced that he'd be the laughingstock among their friends and he made Sam swear on his life that he wouldn't tell anyone. His epic, foolproof, plan was for Sam to put his guitar skills to good use and serenade Mercedes. It was something that Puck thought of doing to Lauren Zizes to get her to be his girlfriend, but she ended up breaking it off with him instead. Puck was positive that his epic plan was going to work. According to him, he knew how women worked and called himself the pussy whisperer, which Sam found absolutely revolting and funny at the same time.

"Girls eat that shit up like candy!"

Sam knew how to play the guitar, but he wasn't much of a singer. Sure, he liked to sing in the shower as if he was some pop superstar, but that was as good as he could do. Puck suggested that he make his way as fast as he could to Windsor Day and talk to Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson. Puck said that they were the best people to talk about when it came to situations that involved singing and music. They were the captains of the Harmonics, Windsor Day's Glee Club. He told Sam that the Harmonics had early morning practices, for reasons no one could understand. When Sam asked him why he knew so much information about them, Puck reluctantly confessed that he tried to recruit them to help him out with serenading Lauren. Again, he told Sam that he'd kick his ass if he told anyone about him and the Harmonics. Everyone at Windsor avoided them as if they were the plague.

From Puck's apartment, Windsor was only a ten minute walk. The big issue that he had was that his trusty Fender acoustic guitar was home at the Oxford and there was no way he was going home. His mother and father were probably waiting up for him, pissed that he had broken their pact that he wouldn't stay out late on a school night. He was willing to take a fierce tongue lashing for Mercedes. She was worth that much to him.

He was sure that the Harmonics had an extra guitar lying around, but he didn't want to take the chance. They were clearly singers, not musicians and that made perfect sense to him. He was speed walking down Central Park East, unsure of what to do next. He had no time to think, he needed to act fast. It was a quarter to six and, if he wasn't mistaken, Mercedes was leaving from Penn Station at seven-thirty. He needed to see her before she left. He needed to explain what happened and clear his name. She needed to know how crazy he was for her, even though the barely knew each other. Plus, if Puck's plan worked, he'd get to feel her lips one last time.

Sam was racking his brain for a possible solution. He was walking alongside Central Park, which already had people running on the trails. He spotted a hobo sitting on a bench directly outside of the park. The man was elderly and had a brown, dirty face. He was wearing tattered clothing and was, to Sam's delight, playing an acoustic guitar. Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. His night was getting weirder. He found it weird and totally coincidental that a guy was playing a guitar while he was looking for one. Maybe it was divine intervention or something. Sam brushed off that feeling and bee lined towards the guy. He needed that guitar and was willing to do anything for it.

The man was strumming the opening bars to a Grateful Dead song. He was actually pretty good and strummed with nimble fingers as if it were nothing. He was so enveloped in his playing that he didn't notice Sam towering above him. It wasn't until Sam cleared his throat that the man looked up at him. He stopped his playing and examined the blond, glaring at him for interrupting his playing. He was wrinkled and had a few missing teeth. Sam held his breath, trying to breathe only from his mouth. The man reeked of garbage and booze. He ogled the man's guitar. He wasn't much of a musician, but he knew a good guitar when he saw one. It was kind of worn from years of use, but was in great condition. He just had to have that guitar.

"What do you want son?" he demanded. He spoke in a thick Southern accent that was definitely from Kentucky. His grandparents spoke the same way and even his mom whenever she was angry.

Sam cut to the chase and pointed at the man's guitar. "Can I have your guitar?"

The man glanced at his guitar and looked at Sam as if he were crazy. The man clutched it and shook his head frantically. "No!"

This wasn't going to be as easy as he hoped, but he had a surefire way of getting that damned guitar.

Sam pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and opened it. He grabbed a wad of cash and wagged it in front of the hobo. He wiggled his eyebrows, shaking the money to make it look more attractive. The blond flashed his persuasive and all too alluring GQ smile, but the man seemed unfazed by the money and continued to clutch his guitar. Sam shook his head in disbelief.

This guy was crazy!

Didn't all hobos want money?

He'd seen plenty of them begging for change across the city. They all wanted money for food or whatever else hobos wanted. What made this man so different?

"You see here this guitar son? This here guitar got me through the Korean War," he snapped. He caressed the guitar, running his grimy fingers across the fret board.

"I'll do anything for it," Sam pleaded. Yet, what else could he possibly give? He was ready to fork over almost two hundred dollars for it and it wasn't even worth that much. Yet, he didn't have a choice. Where else could he possibly get a guitar at this time of day? Puck had bought a guitar to serenade Lauren with, but that was ages ago. He sold it after Lauren called it quits for good.

The man fell silent, examining the blond from head to toe. He pursed his lips in thought and squinted his eyes to get a better look. After a minute or two of silence, he pointed to Sam's shoes. He loosened his grip on the guitar and gave Sam a large, lopsided grin. He was mesmerized by his shoes with a giddy look in his eyes.

"I haven't had me a pair of Chucks in ages!"

Sam frowned and looked down at his sneakers. They were practically brand new. He had only worn them a few times, although the shoelaces were a bit frayed. It was freezing outside and he was pretty certain that the floor was ice cold. His shoes were probably the only thing he didn't want to give up.

They were his damned shoes for Christ sakes!

It was like giving up a fucking kidney!

Yet, he thought of Mercedes and wanting to see her one last time. Giving up his Chucks to a hobo was well worth his intended goal. Sam crossed his fingers and prayed to any God that would listen. He was praying that Puck's so-called foolproof plan worked wonders and was worth running around the Upper East Side without shoes on in below freezing weather.

"You can have them."

With resignation, Sam slipped out of his shoes and handed them over. The man eagerly took them, running a thumb over the smooth canvas material, chuckling like a child in a candy store. Sam was shifting from foot to foot, trying to warm his feet. The ground was freezing and he was wearing thin socks. He was starting to shiver, but tried to keep his cool composure. Real men could go without sneakers. Pussies couldn't. The man kicked off his beaten up shoes and eagerly put on Sam's shoes. It was a perfect fit. The man burst out into a loud fit of laughter, clapping his dirty hands together and holding his round tummy. Sam had never seen anyone so excited over a pair of shoes, well except for Puck that is. He had a vast collection of Nikes and Jordan's. There was one time when he tried to convince Sam to stand on line with him at a Footlocker all night when the newest Concords came out.

"Here son. Put ol' Bessie to good use," the man replied. He carefully handed Sam the guitar, still staring at his new shoes. Sam couldn't help but smile, he had given someone joy and it felt good.

"Thanks sir!"

Sam, with his new guitar in tow, raced down the street. His running had warmed his feet a bit. He almost slipped on a sheet of ice and busted his ass, but he brushed it off and kept on running. Within a few minutes, he was in front of Windsor. Windsor was a three story pre-war building with thick ivy trailing down the brick façade. The school's name and motto were carved into the white marble mantle above the entrance. The school was large and took up half a city block. It used to be a mansion in the early twentieth century that belonged to the Windsors, a wealthy family from England. Philip Windsor, who founded the school, converted the humungous mansion into a day school meant entirely for the best and most talented young men in all of New York City. Sam was sure that the founder of his school was rolling in his grave because Windsor boys weren't that great, a good example being Finn Hudson. The school was guarded by a black, wrought iron gate. The gate was open, which signaled the beginning of a school day.

He jogged up the white marble steps and made his way to the maroon double doors. Thankfully, the doors were unlocked. He strolled into the brightly lit school building. The school's foyer had shiny black and white floors, a large Baccarat chandelier that hung from the high cathedral ceiling and pictures of the former graduating classes on the pristine ivory walls. There was a glass case full of trophies won by the Windsor sports team, dating back to the first graduating class of1907. The orchestra room was on the second floor, adjacent to the library.

Sam made his way up the grand spiral staircase, skipping steps along the way to make his trip a little faster. The second floor was lined with old bedrooms that were converted into classrooms. Sam could hear the faint sounds of singing coming from the opposite side of the corridor. He followed the singing and was in front of the orchestra room. It was so quiet that his steps reverberated of the wood panel walls. The door was ajar and he could see some of the Harmonics, clad in the school's uniform, standing up from their seats. They were singing all together in harmony. Sam couldn't lie. The Harmonics were pretty good, although he would never admit that aloud out of fear of being laughed at by his friends. They had a couple of national titles under their belt.

He swung the door open and the singing immediately stopped. There were twelve members, including Kurt and Blaine. The two lovers were at the front of the room, facing the other members. They were all looking at the shoeless blond, staring at him as if he were an idiot.

"Sam?" Kurt said with an incredulous look on his face. He furrowed his perfectly manicured eyebrows in confusion.

Sam gave the group a small wave. "Hey everyone," he said shyly. He wasn't one to be shy, but he was a little self-conscious about standing in front of twelve people who he was supposed to despise.

"What are you doing here?" Blaine asked curiously.

Sam didn't know how to ask for their services. After all, he acted as if they didn't exist and would aid in bullying them with his obnoxious, macho friends. This was karma biting him hard in the ass for years of being such a soulless jerk.

"Puck sent me here."

Kurt's eyes widened and he let out a laugh of disbelief. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his hands over his chest. "Noah Puckerman sent you here?" he asked. He said it as if it were a joke.

Sam nodded his head, his eyes cast to the floor. "He said that you guys can help me serenade a girl."

The room was quiet and Sam sneaked a glance at Kurt. Kurt and Blaine exchanged a look and both shared a smile. There was a devious look in Kurt's eyes, his lips curled into a sly grin. The other Harmonics were staring intently at their leaders waiting for an answer. A few of them had their hands over their lips, trying to conceal their smiles of amusement. This was a great way to start their day. Kurt and Blaine were whispering to each other, which made Sam want to burst from anticipation. He didn't have time for this. The clock was ticking and he needed to find Mercedes. After what seemed like forever, the two boys stopped their whispering and turned to Sam.

"We could do that," Kurt finally said.

Sam let out a sigh of relief. Puck's plan was beginning to work. He wanted to jump and dance from excitement, but instead gave the guys a thankful smile. Yet, Kurt wasn't finished with his thought and what he said next threw Sam for a loop.

"We're down one member and Regionals is right around the corner," Kurt added. He paused, searching Sam's face for a reaction.

Sam narrowed his eyes with suspicion. He didn't like where this was going.

"If you want us to help you then you have to fill the position."

Without thinking, Sam shook his head and gave his answer. There was no way he was going to be caught alive with the Harmonics. He'd have to be high to do so.

"No fucking way."

He could just imagine the looks he'd get from his friends if they saw him hanging out with the Harmonics. He'd be the laughingstock of the whole school and no one would want to hang out with him. He'd be the victim of endless slushie attacks. He couldn't risk his pristine reputation.

Kurt rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. There was a small smirk etched on his face. "Well, no deal then," he said. He turned his back to Sam.

Sam's heart sunk to his stomach. There was a part of him that wanted to faint. He began to panic and was turning a beet red. His plan to woo Mercedes was definitely not going to work without them. He needed their help and, knowing how persistent Kurt was, there was no way he could talk his way out of this one. He thought of Mercedes once more. He thought of her infectious laughter and her soft, supple hands. He could just imagine her next to him with the same innocent pout on her lips and looking at him with her wide whiskey eyes like she'd done countless times that night. He thought of kissing her and how perfect her plump lips were. He thought of her crying somewhere, probably still alone looking for her sex kitten friend, all because of him and his crazy ex-girlfriend. Being the laughingstock of Windsor for the rest of his senior year was worth it. Plus, he kind of owed it the Kurt and Blaine. He was a big jerk to them and they could've easily said no way. He wasn't going to like it one bit, but it was Mercedes and she deserved it.

"Fine!" Sam cried.

The Harmonics gasped in unison. They didn't think he was going to cave and join them. Then, they clapped and hollered because with him they were going to Regionals. Kurt had this triumphant grin on his face. He had won.

From the corner of his eye, Sam spotted a rack of acoustic guitars in the back by the grand piano. He wanted to kick himself for being so clueless and stupid. His stupid was showing for the second time that night. First, it was at the gay bar and now it was this. He had just given up his shoes to a hobo for nothing. He made a mental note to himself. He definitely needed to ease up on his pot habit. It kills brain cells.

"Why aren't you wearing shoes?' Blaine asked.

Sam looked down at his feet. He shrugged his shoulders, refusing to tell them about why he lost them. They would crack up laughing at him.

"No reason."

"Well, we'll get you a pair from the lost and found," Blaine assured with a polite grin.

Sam could get used to the Harmonics. They were actually pretty decent people.

"Do you know what song you want to do?" Kurt asked.

Sam smiled and nodded his head. He had the perfect panty dropping song in his mind. It was fast paced and could be easily danced to. He'd heard it on the radio a few times and knew that Mercedes would love it. After all, she was also a Gleek.

"Oh yeah!"