I so apologize to all of y'all. Y'all know that normally, I would've had so many updates completed by now. But, I recently switched department at work, learning new stuff, working strange hours and keeping up with my younger sister while my folks are out of town. I've wanted to update everything, but real life, y'all know...

Her Body is Betraying Her

"Sam, I want a pet. I want a turtle, or a BUNNY!" She said, excitedly, seemingly trying to sit up. Sam chuckled slightly and pulled her back down onto her bed. She needed to sleep this medication off, but she seemed like she was fighting her body's attempts to get some rest. "I'm going to train them to fight, cover them in ooze and have them defeat crime in the city."

"You are going to make a Teenage Mutant Ninja Tortoise and Hare?" He asked, softly, his eyes creased from his own tiredness as he smiled at her.

"NOO! It's gonna be Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle and Bunny," she said.

"Go to sleep, Mermaid," he said, as he strummed his fingers down her face, shutting her eyes for her.

"I'm not sleepy," she said, but began to doze off. Sam shut his eyes too. He had gotten off at 3 am, gone home, washed up, spent some time with Maurice, ate, then tossed and turned as he realized that this was the first night after the privilege of Friday, Saturday and Sunday, that he would not wake up wrapped around Mercedes. He probably fell to actual real sleep around 5 am, only to have Puck call him bright and early to ask him about catching an early lunch later on, because he needed to get some things off of his chest. Sam texted Mercedes, good morning, and went back to sleep until around 10 am and had been up since.

He met Puck at 11. He left to get in touch with Mercedes, then went to the store to get some things for her, to help her to feel better, and by the time they met up, he had been running around all morning.

That might not have been so bad if he had not spent most of his previous day giving her something she could feel and several hours of his night working for peanuts. His entire body was exhausted and he just needed to get some proper rest, just like she did. He was drifting into sleep when Mercedes tapped him on the cheek. "Hmm?" He mumbled, a bit agitated and kind of grumpy.

"I got a question," she whispered.

"Whatisit?" He grumbled.

"If my coochie was a color, what color would it be?" She asked. Sam's eyes immediately opened to see the side of her head. She was lying on her back, studying the ceiling, with a serious look on her face.

"Your... um... your coochie IS a color, It's um, like brown on the outside and perfectly pink in the middle. Like the ideal steak," he said, half asleep. She snickered.

"No! Not what color should my coochie be... I'm asking like if it was a color instead of a coochie, but I want the color to, you know, to reflect the current personality of my coochie, too." He stared at her, just confused, as she continued, "I'll say royal purple, because it's stellar and like REGAL. I like to think of my coochie as nobility," she said and nodded. Sam turned his face towards her pillow to laugh at her and how serious she seemed to be considering this. "Speaking of – why do folks say eating a peach? You kiss me after you're dining down there and this thingy does not taste like no peach!"

"Well, it sort of does, a bit. But, I think it's more of a characteristic thing than a flavor thing. Like, because the "coochie"(she giggled when he said the word) is soft and fuzzy with a sweet and tangy nectar in it." He let out a deep, rugged breath, just thinking about hers, "And, can we talk about something else? Because talking about eating a peach with you right next to me is doing something to me. Or better yet – aren't you sleepy? You took two muscle relaxers. You had a long day yesterday. I know that you're tired."

"I'm alright. I'll fall asleep when my body gives up." She began to sing, "Movin' to the country, gonna eat a lotta peaches. I'm movin' to the country, gonna eat me a lotta peaches..." She and Sam began to sing Peaches by The Presidents of the United States, together as they lie down. Sam began to fall to sleep and Mercedes interrupted with, "My favorite pancakes are with peaches and whipped cream on top and honey instead of syrup." Sam sighed and chuckled. Now, he believed that she was purposefully keeping him awake. Maybe she just wanted company. He was a guest. It would be rude for him to go to sleep on her, but he wanted both of them to get some sleep.

"Those pancakes sound like you, Mermaid. Peaches and cream and honey. If we're ever in a group of friends and stuff and I get in the mood, I'm gonna tell you that it's time for your favorite pancakes," Sam said.

Mercedes laughed, but went silent for a moment before asking, "Do ladies dance where you dance at?"

"No. Only men where I dance," he said, uncomfortable that they were back on this subject.

"I've never been to one. Maybe I can come in and watch you dance one night?" She asked. He didn't say anything about that. "There was that song, one time – I ain't got no panties on. I ain't got no panties on. I ain't got no panties on, on the dance floor..."

"Um... subject matter..." he warned, but she kept talking.

"Why ain't she wearing some damned draws, Sam? And she's dancing too? The club is hot and there are bodies everywhere. After all that, when she walks by your table, all they'll smell is sweat and ass!" Mercedes shook her head and turned up her nose, which caused Sam to laugh. She was so damned high out of her mind and obviously a sleep fighter. He used to be one when he was a child, but since his teenage years, he cherished every moment of his sleep.

Mocking her, he said in a low, deep, voice, "Midgets, dwarves, muthafuckin' unicorns... them muthafuckas don't wanna see a black man make it..." before he could get the announcement of 'Method Man from How High' out, Mercedes broke out into a sky-ripping cackle that he was sure would erase all of her ability to breathe. "I take it you saw that movie?" He asked.

"No. I have no idea what you were talking about. You are too funny, though and she took a deep breath. "Sam, if we had gone to high school together, I have a feeling that you could've got it."

"I could've gotten what?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

She laughed and said, "A taste of my favorite pancakes!"

He laughed a little, too and repeated, "A taste? That's all you would have given me?"

"In high school, yeah," she said.

"Hmmm... I don't know if I would've been able to deal with that. I'm hooked on it, now and I have much more reserve today than I did as a sixteen year old."

"Soooo... you are suggesting that if you had gotten a taste, you would've had to try to dive into the honeypot?" She asked.

"I definitely would have been trying to, probably every day," he said.

"You probably could've got it," she said, with a shrug.

He smiled and said, "Babe, if we had done that in high school, we would be married today." She couldn't reply. She simply stared at him with tired eyes. "You look so drained. Why don't you go to sleep?"

"I don't want you to leave," she said, simply, in a tiny voice. "If I go to sleep, I don't know when I'll wake up. What if by the time I wake up, you're gone?" She asked, pouting her lip.

"Aww, Mermaid," he said and moved in closer to her, snuggling with her, tightly. "I'm not going to go anywhere. I promise. But, you need to go to sleep, because I need to sleep too, and you are crazy as hell, right now. I am going to make all kinds of fun of you when you're off of the loopy meds." She giggled, shaking in his arms, as she did; but she soon fell to sleep and he followed after her.

The conversation did not come up again. Mercedes did not care to have to try to talk about something like that, when she had already told him that it was just a job to her. She was not lying about that. Santana danced as a stripper for literally her entire college career. She spent most of her days in audition, took night classes and when she left night class, went directly into the club to shake that money maker. According to her, for a few measley hours she got muchos big dollars.

But, Sam had implied that he did other stuff with the patrons, too. That made her suspicious and self-conscious. Before they ever had sex, it had already been established that he knew what the hell he was doing with a woman's body, unlike her. He blamed it on porn and hentai, but she wondered if some life experience made an impact on his magic hands and miracle mouth, too? "Can't go wrong with Scott Pilgrim VS the World," Sam said, from his bed while Mercedes was in the midst of what had become a pretty regular habit of spending a great amount of time trying to pick out a movie. Sam was just teasing.

He didn't mind how long it took her, at all. They usually spent the time it took her to choose a movie talking and getting to know each other better.

Now, three weeks into whatever their relationship was, they were pretty much -comfortable with each other. Mercedes had on a big T-shirt, like she generally wore to bed, and he was in a pair of boxers, making sure that Maurice remained in his possession, because it seemed that the monkey would not be deterred from whatever treasures he seemed convinced await in the bosom of Miss Mercedes Jones.

However, at night when they went to sleep, Sam allowed Maurice the freedom to nestle himself there and he only moved when she woke up and tapped Sam, who would remove him, or when Sam got up and caught him, himself.

He couldn't blame the little guy. They were cuddly, but it made her uncomfortable, especially after she researched the dangers of pet monkeys... Sam playfully fussed, "You're always researching something on your own!"

She simply laughed and reminded him, "I'm always doing everything on my own."

"Well, it doesn't have to be that way anymore," he told her. But, Mercedes was not quickly being taken away into some fairy tale.

In the past three weeks, she and Sam spent most of their nights together. She worked from 8 am to 3pm (sometimes 9am - 6pm), Monday through Thursdays, afternoons on Fridays and Saturdays (sometimes 9-6) and was off on Sundays. Sam worked Thursday through Monday nights from 10pm to 3am. He generally slept from 4 or 5 am until noon or 1 pm.

Now, with Mercedes in his world, she slept over, frequently, so that if he did have to work that night, she was either asleep when he left, or on her laptop when he left (then sleep when he got back). He generally came home, showered and climbed into bed with her, sometimes getting lucky before he got some rest, sometimes, too tired to do anything but hold her and pass out.

She either was gone by the time that he woke up the next day, and on those days, he got up, worked out and ate, then worked diligently on his comics for the next few hours. Or, he woke up early enough to get lucky before her shift and get himself some sexual sleep aid for his day of rest, before she got off. She'd brought all of those groceries that her mom forced on her to his place and he'd appreciated it – because he loved that stuff, but whole foods and organics and such were simply out of his budget, for the moment. He made a lot of money, but he saved most of it for his comics business.

While he let Mercedes know that she could come over whenever she wanted to, and even told her where he kept his spare key hidden; and even though he left her there, asleep or otherwise, frequently, she always asked for permission to come over. That irritated him, but at the same time, he found it cute. They had been sexing each other up and down on the regular for the past three weeks, and she still had this shyness about her, that he knew he no longer carried. Shy time had ended for him. He didn't even feel silly when he did stuff that could be viewed as overbearing, anymore. Nope – he was comfortable, happy, content.

He had no idea what could have been going through her head. Mercedes was happy, she couldn't lie. She was even comfortable, for the most part. But, content might not be on the list of things that Sam Evans made her feel. For one thing – he seemed so much further along in his attachment than she felt. It could be a bit disconcerting when he said things like, "You can stay over forever, if you want to." She knew that it was probably an exaggeration, but the way that he gazed at her during or after such comments... She couldn't explain or understand it.

The other thing – even though she had no problem with his job, she had trouble with the whole, extra money in the VIP rooms stuff. She had no idea what that meant and felt like she really didn't have a right to ask. After all, it was in his past and he had promised that he would not be carrying on that way. Everything didn't come back to her immediately, but she remembered all of the stuff from the bathroom the night she was jaded on old pills. (She couldn't remember a thing about the bedroom, but desperately hoped that the things that Sam was teasing her about saying were untrue.)

As she finally decided on Eyes Wide Shut (because as much as Sam loved that movie, it made her want to go to sleep), and she had to open the store in the morning. She put it on and climbed into bed. "You're trying to go to sleep," he commented, when he realized what she had put in.

"It works better for me than pills," she commented.

"I still can't believe that you feel that way about it," he said. "And yet, you can watch The Vampire Diaries," he teased.

3 AM, or maybe a few minutes later, she jumped up out of bed, alert to the fact that she was wet. She rushed out of bed and into the bathroom down the hall, unsure of whether or not she had woke him or alarmed him when she got up. However, when she went into the bathroom, sat down and peeked, she frowned and cussed under her breath. "Mercedes?" He groaned, from outside of the door. "S'everything alright?"

"Could you grab my bag out of the living room and sit it right outside of the door for me, please?" She asked.

"Yeah, Babe," he told her and she heard his feet shuffling across the carpet. It annoyed her when he did that, but tonight, it was heightened. She didn't say anything, until he said, "I got it. You want me to bring it in."

"No! Didn't I ask you to leave it outside the door?" She snapped at him.

"Yeah... sorry. Okay... It's out here," he said and she could hear the hurt and confusion in his voice. She waited until she heard his feet drag back into the bedroom and his door to shut before she snatched the bag up so that she could wash up, change and put on a damned maxi pad. For whatever reason, her cycle was a few days early, but she was still prepared. Yet, she hadn't really thought about how she would react and respond with Sam, during this time.

Damn – this was another dimension of her womanhood – one that he probably wouldn't be too comfortable with. And even if he was, she definitely wasn't. Theen, when she thought about it, she hoped and prayed that she had caught it in time and had not made any type of stain on his sheets, or worse – his mattress! Ugh! Now, she was groggy and annoyed. Sam was seated up in his room when she came in, fully dressed and began to search his bed.

"Hey – why are you dressed? And what are you looking for?" He asked, confused. Oh, good – the coast was clear.

"I'm nto feeling well, I gotta go," she told him.

"You should stay if you don't feel well. I can go pick up something for you at the all night pharmacy..."

"I'm going, alright?" She asked, irritated and embarrassed; even though he still didn't seem to know what the hell was even bothering her.

"Okay!" He snapped back at her. "What is wrong with you, tonight?" He asked.

"I'll talk to you," she said and grabbed her shoes, before heading out of the door. Sam didn't know whether to chase her and try to ascertain the real issue ot leave her be. He voted on leave her be. Maybe she just wasn't feeling well and would be better tomorrow. He had no idea the kind of week she was about to put him through or why...