Sam's POV (8:24 a.m.)

When I left my room in the morning, the first person I saw was Quinn. Well, actually, she was the only person I saw because I assumed everyone else was downstairs already eating breakfast. Being up for the majority of the night only to get four hours of sleep was a lot to bear especially following a long day and I was tired. I managed to drag myself into the shower and become presentable before leaving the room. I heard Mercedes' unrested voice from the kitchen as I walked into the hall.

I was halfway to the stairs when I spotted Quinn walking out of her room and into the reading room. I was so sleepy I could barely keep my eyes open, and I didn't have enough energy to make conversation, so I steered clear.

As I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen my first instinct was to go straight to the food, but I knew I had to show my face, so I walked into the dining area.

Once there, I saw that the Jones' were squeezed together in some kind of tight embrace, and by the looks of it – probably initiated by Donnel Jones. His arms were wrapped around his daughter and wife, hugging them so tightly it looked like it hurt.

"Ow, dad, stop." I heard Mercedes' muffled plea.

"I'm just so happy the women of the house finally decided to treat me like the king I am!" He replied, releasing them.

I felt a soft hand cup my shoulder from behind me. Without even needing to turn to see who it was, I knew it was mom. We exchanged smiles.

"What's this all about?" She asked, walking over to the china cabinet and picking out some plastic ware for breakfast.

"My babydoll and my baby girl made my favorite breakfast. And it's about damn time too!"

"You haven't done that before?" Mom asked.

"We have." Mercedes responded, rolling her eyes.

"They have, that's no lie." Donnel said, wiping at his eyes like he was on the verge of tears. Geez. "But every time they did, I had to drop hints beforehand."

"By dropping hints he means begging." Clarice added.

Mom shot Clarice Jones a questioning look. "But it's just breakfast."

"I married a buffoon." Clarice explained.

"Virginia," Donnel said warningly. "The king is happy. Be a good queen and keep it that way."

In reply to this, Clarice smacked his chest very harshly and walked into the kitchen, Mercedes trailing after her.

Donnel shook his head, sitting down at the head of the long table. "A real man can appreciate a good breakfast. But whenever he decides to voice his appreciation, than it's a problem."

"CLARICE!" Donnel called after her. "I'M HUN-GRY! WHERE'S THE FOOD?!"

At that moment she came bustling through the dining room, carrying trays of pancakes and fruit. Mercedes was right after her, with a tray of sausage links and sliced ham. My mouth watered. If I lived in this house, I would be fat enough to qualify for the Biggest Loser.

Mercedes set the trays down and looked at her father with exasperation. "Mrs. Fabray is cooking the eggs. Could you calm down a bit? This isn't easy work."

"You could've at least helped carry this stuff out here." Clarice seconded.

"Hell to the no! This is my special breakfast; the only thing I'm going to do is help clear these trays!"

"You're gonna regret saying that."

"I don't think I will." Clarice and Donnel stared each other down.

"Maybe not now, but you will later." She gave him a meaningful look. You didn't have to be a rocket scientist to understand what she meant.

"Gross, mom - Don't do this today please! I haven't even eaten yet." Mercedes whined, slipping into a chair while holding her head.

"This isn't a scandalous topic Mercy, love is a beautiful thing." Her mom said. "But sometimes people forget to appreciate it, and that's when it's time to take their loving away for a while."

Donnel shook his head. "I give you two women a home, everything you want, and this is what I get in return? A damn shame."

"Hope you like the balcony, Donny. 'Cause you're gonna be sleeping there for a while."

Mercedes mumbled something unintelligible. I took this as a perfect opportunity to see what she was wearing. I was actually dressed in day clothes and here she was, comfortable and in her element. She looked cute, as usual. Her hair was in a bun on top of her head and she still had her footie pajamas on. The dancing penguins on her pj's were too endearing.

Throughout the course of breakfast, I tried to make eye contact with Mercedes at least a hundred times, but she never failed to look in the other direction. Just a few hours ago we were having a great conversation, now she won't even look at me. I don't know what went wrong.

Just as I was about to start a conversation with Mercedes – try, at least – Quinn came walking into the dining room, rubbing at her eyes and looking very tired.

"You okay, Quinnie?" Clarice asked, looking up from her iPhone.

"You look tired." Mom added.

"I am," Quinn said, grabbing a few strips of bacon and sitting down next to me. "I barely got any sleep."

"Bless your heart, could you not fall asleep?" My mom replied.

"No, that's not it." She says, looking at Mercedes discreetly. I noticed, though. "There was so much noise from outside; I don't know what was going on."

"Well I don't either, because I couldn't hear a thing last night." Clarice said, shaking her head confusingly.

"It sounded like cars driving away or something, I don't know."

I froze, and saw Mercedes freeze across from me. Were we about to be discovered?

"Sorry for taking so long to arrive at breakfast, but after a woman cooks she needs her shower." Margret said, coming into the dining area. And at just at the right time, too.

"Good morning Mrs. Fabray." I said feeling relieved.

"Good morning handsome." She replied, coming over to me and pinching my cheeks. The pungent perfume was back and in full force. I tried not to look disgusted.

"Isn't he such a gentleman?" Clarice said, smiling at me. I returned the smile. I really liked Mrs. Jones.

"He's definitely a charmer." Margret agreed.

"You tryna' steal my thunder, Son?" I heard Donnel growl.

I gulped. "Uh, no sir."

Clarice smacked him upside his head. "Quit being an ass!"

Everyone laughed and I chuckled nervously. Donnel sure knew how to make a guy feel uncomfortable.

"I think," Donnel said, coming into the living room with holiday punch in his hand, "That we should watch a movie in the theater before our guests leave."

The den was pretty much vacant. Only Clarice, him and I were on the couch watching TV. Everyone else was upstairs getting dressed. I knew we had to leave the Jones' by three to be back at our houses by 5:30, but that didn't mean I wanted to go. I really liked the Jones'. They were nice and welcoming. Clarice could cook up a storm and Donnel was hilarious. Mercedes… I shook my head. She wouldn't talk to me no matter what I did. Obviously she's mad at me, but why? And there was no way to get her alone to ask.

"That sounds good." Clarice said, looking over at me. "What do you think, Sam?"

"Sure, I like movies."

"Alright then." Clarice got up, putting the hand that was just clutching Donnel's on my shoulder as she walked past me. I got up then too, and decided to go to my room I was staying in. I needed to talk to somebody.

"Hello?"

I sighed at the sound of Kurt's voice when he picked up. A few weeks ago when I told him I didn't want any friends, he was right. It was a terrible lie.

"Hey, Kurt. It's Sam."

"I know."

"Okay, um…" I scratched the back of my head. "Can you talk?"

"Obviously." He said.

"What's your problem?" I said, offended.

Kurt sighed. "Sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night."

Oh yeah. I thought, remembering last night's events. "It's okay."

"So what do you want to talk about?"

I explained the latest developments in Mercedes and my friendship-thing without mentioning that part of this took place twelve hours ago. I told him everything, from the nonexistent acknowledgement this morning to how I rubbed her temples to make her feel better. I told him about how we were getting on more personal terms and now she won't look at me.

Kurt made a low whistle. "This is intense."

"I know."

"But it's really simple, you know that right?"

"What? No!" I exclaimed, flabbergasted.

"Well she's mad at you-"

"Really?" I said sarcastically.

"Being a jerk will get you nowhere, Sam." He said before continuing. "She's mad with good reason too."

"What? Why?"

"Try to keep up. Mercedes is confused because you can't make up your mind."

"But I didn't do any-"

"Nope!" Kurt yelled – right into my ear, too. "Shut up before you make an ass of yourself. If I were Mercedes, I would've smacked you for this. Didn't I warn you not to do this?"

"What is 'this'? What did I do?" I asked.

"You didn't kiss her." I looked at my cell incredulously.

"I didn't kiss her." I said, this wasn't a question.

"You didn't." He agreed.

"Alright," I started. "To clarify, you're saying that Mercedes is mad at me because I didn't lay one on her."

"'Lay one on her'? Really, Sam? But yeah, that's why she's mad."

I rolled my eyes. "I think you need to go back to sleep Kurt."

"You can think whatever you want. But I'm right. Coming from the point of view of Mercedes, I know how she works, what makes her tick. She's mad as hell because you're confused and she's not."

"I'm not confused, Kurt." I said.

"Oh, but you are." He replied, half laughing. "Do you like her?"

"Yeah."

"No, do you really, really like her?"

"Um…" I could've said yes without a doubt, but what difference would it make? I would never be good enough for her, and mom wants me to go after Quinn anyway. It just wouldn't work. It's heaven-sent that I'm even friends with her.

"See? You're in limbo. You don't like her, but you don't not like her. And that's confusing,"

"You have a point."

"I know I do." He said.

"But what do I do?" I asked.

"Figure out what you want and quit confusing people. But hurry, because if you turn out to like her more than a friend, it might be too late." He said before telling me to get my act together and hanging up.

I sat on my bed and looked out the window to my right. I wish it was as easy as Kurt said to get things done, but it never was. Everything is complicated. I didn't know what to do about Mercedes, but I knew Kurt was right. If I didn't hurry, it would be too late.

A half hour later, I could hear Donnel summoning the household to the theater to watch the newest Iron Man installment. And if this were any other time, I would've been thrilled. But I wasn't involved enough to pay attention. I opened up the door to my room and looked outside. Everyone was making their way out of their rooms and into the theater.

I slipped around the hallway without even talking to anyone, but I did notice Mercedes. She was wearing an off shoulder sweater and fitted jeans. It looked like she was wearing fuzzy house-shoe-boot things. I know dick about fashion. She was cute as ever, though. Her hair was smooth with soft waves. She turned around when Quinn called her from behind me. She still doesn't have any make-up on, but she doesn't need it. For a second, she looks in my direction. Her eyes capture me, draw me in. They're brown.

Mercedes and Quinn walk together, talking loudly and excitedly about seeing Robert Downey Jr. Once they were ahead of me, I was the only one left behind. For a moment I just stood there, right in the middle of the hallway, alone. In the theater, some bouncy dance music was playing, and over it I heard laughing.

"Hey, Sam." Mom called from around the corner. I walked ahead and saw her looking excited and in her element: up the social ladder and around the wealthiest people in Ohio. "You ready to join us?"

I looked back to my room and thought of what I've told Kurt about my mother. And thought about how quiet it was in there compared to this loudness. No, I thought. I'm not.

Mercedes' POV

I've been disappointed and upset all day, but it was going to stop here. I couldn't be mad because Sam didn't do what I wanted him to, if that's even what I want. Anything worth having was never easy to obtain, and if I wanted Sam I had to work for him.

Dad decided he wanted to watch a movie with the guests before they leave, which isn't a bad idea. But after everything that's happened over the past thirty hours – piled with Dad leaving Tuesday, and mom leaving Thursday – I kind of want both my parents to myself for a while.

We were in the theater, and dad didn't remember how to turn on or dim the lights so we were in the dark. I'm completely alone in a whole row while the adults are together, and Sam and Quinn are sitting next to each other.

Of course, that's why he didn't kiss me – or anything last night. He's interested in Quinn. And why wouldn't he be? She's beautiful, a cheerleader, and practically a genius. Right size, right appearance, right skin tone to match his, right everything. I wanted to vomit.

Two rows down from mine, I saw Sam and Quinn looking chipper than I've ever seen those two. I wanted to say that she was flirting with him, but she was obviously being herself. She didn't get pregnant for nothing. Quinn was a flirt. Just like the sky was blue and dogs didn't walk on two legs.

I watched RDJ kick butt for a few minutes, before hearing Quinn giggling very loudly and playfully punch Sam's shoulder. I felt my eyes water despite the anger I felt.

She knew I had a crush on him though! At least she could've said Hey Mercy, I know I said I wanted to be you friend, but I'm gonna go after your crush, okay? Who was I kidding? I should've already known she would do this! It's what she does – steal guys away from girls who don't stand a chance. Candy from a baby.

I pushed off of my chair, then out the theater, upstairs to the reading room, and finally the balcony. Outside, the air was cold, the sky was clear, and I knew autumn was here. I sighed heavily. I just stood there, looking out into the open space, the sounds of flirting behind me. From where I was standing I could get a partial view of the estates around me and thought that this is what people worked all their lives for. But I couldn't understand why. Nothing about it was happy.

I went back inside, pausing in the reading room to listen. There was only silence, and faint sounds of my stereo in my room. Oddly, but maybe not to strange, I heard All I Wanted from Paramore playing. I chuckled to myself, and hummed along as I walked around the room, fingering books I've read over and over again.

By the time I was seated in a bean bag chair with Speak the song changed to Breakdown by Mariah Carey. Of course it would. Freaking typical.

I was reading about how much Melinda hated high school when I heard a low whistle of breakdown from outside the room. Was that-?

"Hey, why'd you leave?"

I looked up from my book and saw Sam leaning against the threshold with a confused look on his face.

Go away, I thought, but then he was walking through the room and sitting next to me in a bean bag nearby.

"I don't like movies." I lied. I loved movies. I watched them by myself when mom and dad weren't around. Which was all the time.

"Okay."

"What about you? Why are you not in there?" I asked, closing up Speak and laying it in my lap.

"I hate movies." He said smiling and that makes me smile too, against my better judgment.

"What are you reading?" He asks, referencing to the book in my lap and surmising why I left the theater.

"Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson. I've read this book so many times."

He looks meaningfully at my book and smiles again, tilting his head as if in deeper thought. Talking about books while being with smiling Sam in my haven is disarming.

"You like reading?"

"Take a look," I say instead of answering, "Around this room." He does.

"There's about 1150 books in here. About 72% of these books are mine."

"That's…"He trails off and looks baffled.

"Eight-hundred-twenty-eight exactly. I like to read, Sam."

"But how have you read so many books?" He asks, still looking baffled. Crap, I let my nerd out.

"Um, I have a lot of spare time."

"With your parents around? That seems unlikely."

I chuckled bitterly. "They're not."

"Not what?"

"Around. They hardly are. Their jobs are so demanding they don't have enough time to give to me." I can't believe I've already said so much to Sam. Practically a stranger.

"Oh. Sorry." Sorry. It's what everyone says when they feel bad for someone else. It doesn't mean anything, but when Sam said that, I think he meant it.

"It's okay. It's not your fault."

We sit in a semi comfortable silence until Sam blurts out, "Are you mad at me?"

"What would make you think that?"

"Well," He starts nervously, "You didn't really talk to me this morning and – and last night, you just left. Just like when you left twenty minutes ago. I don't know. Are you mad at me?"

I must take too much time to reply because he went on. "I mean, if you're mad at me for something I did – I don't know what I did, though – I'm sorry. Honestly. I really like being you're friend, and I don't want to lose that-"

"Sam." I said. He kept rambling, so I repeated, louder, "Sam."

Finally silence. "I was mad, not at you exactly."

"Really?" His face is flashing between worried, happy, and nervous.

"Really. You like being my friend?" I ask, just because seeing Sam nervous is mad cute.

"Of course. You're amazing, Cedes." I tilt my head in astonishment at his eyes because he seems to be staring intently into mine like he's looking for something specific.

It was like this last night, this comfortable tranquil feeling that took over me when he was rubbing my temples. It was just like this when I thought he was going to kiss me, and he didn't. Like finally getting the best dream of your life, only to be woken up minutes later. I wasn't going to fall for this trick again.

"Well," I said, getting up. "We better go back downstairs, right?"

"No, Mercedes wait-"

I got up and started walking toward the door, not even listening. I'm almost at the door when I feel a warm hand on my back, and Sam's spinning me around to face him.

"Cedes." He put two fingers underneath my chin and tilts my face up towards his and I'm forced to look at him.

"What, Sam?"

"Why are you running away again?" He looks so concerned I feel my heart clenching.

"I'm not running," I say. "We have to go."

"No, we don't." He says seriously, sternly.

"Huh?"

"We don't have to go anywhere." He releases my chin and moves in front of me so I can't leave the room. "I want to know why you keep doing this. I want to know now."

"I don't –"I start, but he cuts me off.

"You can't say you're not mad at me then leave the next moment like you're mad."

"I don't want you to think I'm mad all the time." I whisper.

He looks like he wants scream. "We have these incredible conversations were I feel accepted and normal for once in my life, and then I say something like 'you're amazing', and then you go back to being mad at me."

"You feel normal around me?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

He looks at me unwaveringly. "I feel better than normal around you."

"Look Sam," I say. "I have a lot of problems, and stress, and issues. There's a lot you don't know about me. I know you probably feel the same. But there's a lot going on right now…"

"Are you in trouble? Is there something wrong?" I'm shaking my head even as he says this, my eyes watering again.

"Mercedes, you can tell me. Whatever is wrong, you can trust me."

I'm getting flash backs of the morning Santana told me she was lesbian and how she could barely speak up. For a moment I'm tempted to just tell him my whole life story, from how great it was to how bad it got. But I couldn't. Not now.

"I'm not in trouble, Sam. It's not about me." I look up at his worried face and my heart feels like it's doing cartwheels again. He's giving me a look so deep I swear he's seeing stuff even I don't know about.

With the look he's giving me, I don't want him to see something he won't like, so I wrap my arms around him and give him a hug. He returns it, and so now we're actually embracing, so I nuzzle my face into his shirt. My lips are touching his hoodie cover chest – I'm smell his cologne and taste something that has to be pure Sam – and as I feel him pull me even closer I think somewhere in the back of my mind that this is not platonic.

"We'll tell each other our stories someday." He promises, like this was inevitable.

"Okay." I agree, just because he's still hugging me and I can't refuse a thing he says.

He breaks away gently and I swear I felt him kiss the top of my head. But I'm not going to say a thing. For once, I'm just happy.

Quinn's POV

Once Sam left the theater I followed my instincts and him. I should've known that he was going after that blimp. Of course he would, Sam's a good guy. Perfect for me. Not Mercedes. I only heard bits and pieces of their conversation, but it was enough to know that Mercy was playing the innocent, emotionally scarred girl. How pathetic.

If she was so innocent, why was she slipping off in the middle of the night? Probably to go see Shane, another guy swooning over her big ass. He'd find out soon enough that she was just a tease. Just like Sam would. But I didn't want him to fall for her tricks.

Mercedes never said anything about her love life, but I knew she was a man-eater. Why else would Puck break up with me for her? He didn't like virgins, or innocent girls. He liked them experienced and disposable. Whatever.

Mercedes has everything she ever wanted. She has friends, a family that loves her, what more could she want? Sam Evans.

But not this time. For once, I was going to get what I wanted. Not what mom wanted, or dad, or Puck, or even fucking Mercedes. What I wanted.

So Quinn is bitter as hell, huh? What will this trifling girl do next? Haha, and how did you feel about the Samcedes moments? Anything else? I love writing about Mr. and Mrs. Jones.

Next chapter will be back to McKinley-based events since it'll be the weekday(s). A lot is coming up so I hope you guys are ready! And just in time for the holidays too!

AND REVIEW PLEASE! PLEASE! I WORK SO HARD ON THESE CHAPTERS FOR YOU GUYS.

***Side note so feel free to skip this to REVIEW***

Do any of you guys have requests for a certain theme-idea for their regionals competition? Not Glease, that is strictly in the Samcedes vault as far as I am concerned.