DISCLAIMER: Look on first chapter.


April 17, 2011 (Sunday)

The Motel Six

Lima, Ohio

1:22PM

Sam opened the door of his motel room before Mercedes could even knock. She was bowled over by the built blond as soon as she opened her mouth. The look on Sam's face was one of pure joy.

"What's going on?" she asked, bewildered and Sam actually beamed. His smile was so huge that it almost looked painful.

"My dad got a job!" he crowed as he threw his arms around her and bodily lifted her off the ground. Mercedes squeaked in surprise as he hefted her into the air, before he put her back onto the ground and danced them around the small porch area.

The diva couldn't contain her laughter at his jubilation as he let her go and started doing the tootsie roll—right there in front of God and everybody.

"That's great!" she told him, "But boy, please stop."

Sam looked at her while in the middle of busting a move. "Why?" he asked with wink. "You don't like my booty-licious dance moves?" Sam tried his best to pop, lock and drop it, but it just ended up looking like he'd gotten stabbed in the ass with a fire poker.

Mercedes was torn between amusement and embarrassment for the boy—especially when she saw a small group of three women burst out laughing across the street. She decided not to tell him about that and just smiled at him. Sam was literally glowing.

"Oh, I like your dance moves alright," she told him—his happiness was contagious. "Just don't bust out the running man before you stretch."

Sam laughed.

"You're just jealous," he said, throwing an arm over her shoulders, "You wish you could move like this." He made a wave with his upper body before leading a laughing Mercedes inside the motel room.

"Do you know where your dad is working?" she asked him as she closed the door behind her and placed her bag on the chair beside the door.

"He's designing something for someone in town," Sam told her, "It has to do with architecture so my dad is over the moon." He plopped down on the bed and glanced at her.

"Was it a big interest of his?" Mercedes questioned as she looked around the room—it was still quite dirty, which made her doubly happy that she had stopped at home after church. Sam had asked her to come hang out when she dropped him off last night, and she'd agreed to drop by for the afternoon.

"Yeah," Sam said, "He got his master's degree in architecture. He's always worked for a finance corporation since he got it though—it was safer." The sarcasm Mercedes heard in that last word equated to the size of an elephant. She ignored it and Sam continued, "But he always did work for some small company in Tennessee on the side; so he has plenty of experience."

"Well, that's awesome," she replied and Sam grinned at her. "Where are Stacey and Stevie? Did your dad start work today?"

"No, he has to draw up some designs before he can begin actual work. They're going to have some consultation meetings for the next couple of weeks to discuss their options. But he went to the library today—he wanted to read up on everything and make sure he was up to date on all of the qualifications and safety stuff, before he got started. So he took the squirts to the library with him." Sam said and Mercedes smiled at him.

"Well in that case, I think we should clean this place up a bit," Mercedes told him and Sam groaned.

"No," he cried in mock misery, "I thought you were cool, Mercedes! Now I find out you're one of those neat and organized people. We can't be friends anymore." When a pillow slapped him upside the head, Sam laughed. Mercedes rolled her eyes.

"No," she mocked, "I thought you were cool, Sam! Now I find out that you're blond and want to be Justin Bieber! We can't be frien—"The same pillow came flying towards Mercedes and hit her directly in the face. The two burst out laughing, before Mercedes dragged Sam out of the front door by the hand. She led him to her black BMW and opened the rear door.

Sam blinked at the numerous cleaning supplies in the trunk. His eyebrows were practically at his hairline. "Is this for us?" he asked dubiously, and Mercedes shook her head.

"It's all from my house, but I figured it wouldn't take more than a couple of hours for us to make this motel more of a home for you."

"Are we really going to clean?" he asked and Mercedes nodded.

"It'll be fun!" she stated. Sam gave her a look that had her laughing. "I promise! I can teach you some dance moves in return."

Sam's face lit up and he grabbed the mop and bucket before she could say anything else. He was walking back to the motel room when Mercedes called after him. Sam just said, "Come on girl, let's get to cleaning. I got to get my groove on!"

Mercedes burst out laughing, but she carried the rest of the cleaning supplies into the room. As she clicked her key to lock her door, she watched as Sam wrestled with the mop bucket and tried to fill it with water from the kitchen sink.

It didn't even occur to him that he could just use the bathtub spout. Mercedes shook her head and muttered, "Crazy white boy." But when the dishwasher knob hose thingy fell out of his hands and started spraying water everywhere, Mercedes smiled and ran over to help him.

Five minutes later, Sam and Mercedes were soaked with water and both were glaring at the sink hose that had gotten stuck in the on position. Sam looked at Mercedes who was wearing her fiercest scowl and collapsed in laughter; watching him twitch with amusement on the floor made Mercedes crack a smile.

The afternoon passed in fits of giggles between the two as Mercedes taught Sam quick but effective ways to clean stuff. They reorganized all of the Evans' excess things and Mercedes helped Sam start the washer to do all the laundry. She laughed at the blush on his face when she'd pulled a pair of his Star Trek boxers from the dryer.

He laughed when he'd chased her around the motel room with a dirty sock. She ran him down with a spray bottle of soap and water. She showed him the proper way to make a bed and how to use one of the dust busters and a mixture of bleach, water and febreeze to clean the mattress.

Sam taught Mercedes the art of re-fluffing a de-fluffed pillow that had just come out of the dryer. Seeing the two teenagers hitting the wall with a pair of pillows and then smashing them together would've been quite amusing if anyone had been watching them.

They made quite some faces when they cleaned out the refrigerator. There was a cockroach incident that had sent Mercedes out of the room, screaming. When Sam saw it, he'd joined her outside. They eventually went back in and attacked the fridge with a bottle of Clorox spray cleaner and their best war cry.

Sam just had to pull out his Braveheart impersonation which made Mercedes laugh hysterically. During the fridge cleaning, Sam and Mercedes traded one-liners from the movie.

All in all, it took them about six hours to clean and do all the laundry in the motel room, but Sam had never seen the motel room gleam like it did now.

The linoleum flooring in the kitchenette faintly sparkled. The counters and appliances were cleaned—their small table's rickety leg was fixed, meaning they duck taped it until it stopped shaking. The stuff along the walls was organized and the bed was made.

The transformation was nothing short of amazing. After they'd put the cleaning supplies—what was left of them—back into Mercedes' trunk, the two of them collapsed onto the bed side by side.

Sam looked over at Mercedes. "Do I get my dance lesson now?" he asked and she laughed.

"After all that, you still have energy to dance?" she questioned, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"Yeah," Sam replied as he sat up and pulled her into a standing position. Mercedes had worn a pair of old blue jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt. Initially her hair was down, but after the water sprayer incident, she'd tied it back in a pony tail.

After so much work though, strands of her hair had fallen out and was framing her face. She was also wearing a pair of black square framed glasses. Sam thought she looked beautiful.

"Alright," she gave in and he beamed at her. "So I think we'll start off small. The most important thing about dancing is being able to find the rhythm. If you don't hear the beat, you can't dance to it."

Sam nodded and she smiled at his eagerness. She kind of thought his bad dancing added to his charm, but she wouldn't say anything. "You have a music player?" she asked and Sam shook his head.

"My iPod and iPod dock were one of the first things to go when money got tight," he admitted and Mercedes nodded.

"No problem," she told him as she switched on the television, "that's what you have MTV for."

Surprisingly the song "Get Low" was playing and Mercedes smiled. "This song is good, because it has a very obvious beat. Can you find it for me? Just sway your hips from side to side to the beat."

Sam listened intently for a minute, before he started moving, but his movements were stiff and awkward. The blush on his face was steadily reddening and Mercedes thought he looked adorable. She kept her thoughts to herself. She tried showing him the beat by moving herself, but Sam just got flustered.

Mercedes touched Sam's hips and helped him move in time to the music, but the poor boy's face was flaming red by the end of the song. He threw his hands in the air once the song ended.

"I suck," he groaned and Mercedes smiled at him.

"It's only the first time, Sam," she told him.

"No, I've tried before—I'll never get this right." Sam replied, his voice sad. She felt her heart clench at the truly disappointed look on his face. "I'm going to be the dork who can't dance for the rest of my life. No girl will want to dance with me if I pull out the robot."

Mercedes laughed. "That's not true, Sam," she said.

He looked at her. "Would you dance with me if I did?"

Mercedes met his eyes and said, "Yes."

Sam gave her a lopsided grin.

He sat down on the bed as Mercedes turned the television off. She sat beside him, and she literally felt his demeanor change as he glanced around the clean room.

"Sam?" she inquired uncertainly and Sam gave her a weak smile.

"I was just thinking about my mom," he told her and Mercedes gave him her full attention. The sun was setting outside, but the rays of orange and purple were entering through the open window. The colors reflected off Sam's blond hair and his skin looked like it was glowing.

Mercedes thought he looked gorgeous, but his sad green eyes captured her attention. "She tried to teach me how to waltz when I was six. I remember because I kept stepping on her toes, before she told me take my shoes off and dance on her feet."

"You miss her a lot, don't you?"

"It's hard not to," Sam confessed, "She wasn't always a woman consumed with herself. She loved us, Cede, I know she did. She used to play pirates with me in our backyard. I always got to play the good guy and she'd play my enemy. Every time, she let me win. She held me when my first girlfriend broke my heart. And she took a bazillion pictures when I went out on my first date."

Sam laughed bitterly and Mercedes placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay to feel that way, Sam."

"No it's not!" Sam disagreed vehemently, "She walked out on her family, Mercedes. She left us behind to our own fate because she couldn't suffer anymore. I should hate her."

"Sam," Mercedes said calmly, "That's not all she was to you. One horrendous memory doesn't immediately erase seventeen years of good memories."

"That doesn't make it right," Sam stated.

"No it doesn't, and I'd like to drop kick your mother just as much as the next person," Sam smiled a little at that, but Mercedes continued, "but she did right by you when she was raising you. It doesn't excuse her actions and I'm not asking you to, but I just want you to think about that before you label her as enemy number one and let this taint all of your childhood memories. Because hatred can ruin the purest things and you don't deserve to look at all those fond times and have them become meaningless."

"Hating her is easier," Sam insisted stubbornly.

"Yeah it is, but it's also exhausting and it makes you bitter. Forgiveness is for you, Sam not for the person who wronged you. It gives you peace of mind."

"So I should just let her back in if she comes crawling back?" he asked angrily and Mercedes just looked directly into his eyes.

"Hell no," she said, "Forgiveness is not the same as forgetting. If that woman ever comes whimpering back here, I'd probably bitch stomp her face into the next millennium, but while she's not here—just know that it's okay to miss your mother and not Elizabeth Evans."

His brow furrowed, Mercedes watched Sam contemplate her words. They sat there in silence as Mercedes worried about Sam and Sam considered what his friend was telling him. When she felt Sam relax a bit, Mercedes looked up. He smiled at her, and opened his mouth to speak, but Mercedes' phone went off.

She fished it out of her pocket and saw that she had a text from Finn.

Party at Puck's. U in?

Mercedes looked over at Sam, who was staring at her curiously. "You have any plans for tonight?" she asked and his blond eyebrows rose.

"No," he said, "Why?"

"There's a party at Puckerman's house tonight. Finn wanted to know if we would go." She stated.

"He asked about me and you?" Sam's voice was incredulous, before he said, "Why are they having a party on a Sunday?"

Mercedes shrugged. "No, he didn't ask about you directly, but I bet if you check your phone you have the same message." Looking dubious, Sam rummaged through his backpack and found that it was true—except his was from Quinn.

Sam thought about it for a moment, before saying, "Let's party!"

Mercedes held up a hand.

"You need to shower, and I need to get dressed," she told him. "Want to meet up there?"

"Alright," Sam agreed before they both replied to the text with a yes. Mercedes picked up her bag and walked to the door. Sam stopped her with a touch. She looked up at him and Sam leaned forward and wrapped her in a hug.

Mercedes smiled into his shoulder and hugged him back.

"Thank you for coming over today, Mercedes," Sam said, "I had a lot of fun."

"Night's not over, Blondie," she spoke with a smile. Sam rolled his eyes. "But you're welcome."

"See you at Puck's!" he called to her as she climbed into her vehicle. Sam leaned against the doorframe and waved when she drove out of the parking lot. He waited until he couldn't see her BMW anymore before he went inside to shower and change.

Tonight was going to be fun; he could already tell.


April 18, 2011 (Monday)

McKinley High School

Lima, Ohio

3:07PM

When Sam walked into Glee club, his new guitar swung over his shoulder, a cheer went up. Sam smirked at them all as he bro-hugged Puck and fist bumped with Artie. The blond sent a smile to Mercedes, who rolled her eyes at him. Mr. Schue clapped Sam on the shoulder and he turned his head to look at his teacher.

"You look happy, Sam," the curly-haired teacher said and Sam gave him a small smile.

"I had a good weekend," he replied and Mr. Schue smiled before letting him go. Sam moved through the risers and plopped down in a seat between Kurt and Mercedes. They both gave him smiles.

"For this week's assignment, I want you all to..." Sam tuned out Mr. Schue as he began explaining the assignment. He leaned over to Mercedes and nudged her shoulder to get her attention. She gave him a raised eyebrow.

"You know—you learn more when you pay attention to what the teacher has to say," Mercedes teased and Sam gave her a look. She laughed softly.

"We all know he's just going to repeat what he said tomorrow," Sam whispered back.

"And if he doesn't?" she asked, knowing that it had happened before.

"Then I ask Rachel," Sam replied and Mercedes snorted before she could stop herself. Sam straightened in his chair and pretended like he wasn't about to burst out laughing, but the look on Mercedes' face had his lips twitching.

"You know, I think its crazy cute when you snort like that," he told her when people stopped looking in their direction.

"Snorting is not cute," Mercedes protested and Sam quirked his lips to the side.

"You do it," he pointed out and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm secure enough in myself that I can admit that not everything I do is cute," she told him and Sam smiled at her.

"I think it's adorable—reminds me of Piglet," he said and Mercedes gasped in indignation.

"Piglet, Sam?" she hissed at him, "Way to insult a girl."

"Piglet is crazy awesome! He was my favorite character on that show," Sam rebuked her. The expression on Mercedes' face was one of exasperated fondness. He grinned.

"Piglet had an anxiety disorder and was afraid of his own shadow," Mercedes said, "I am nothing like piglet." Sam thought the sneer in her tone was hilarious.

"Whatever you say, Cede," Sam replied, and for a moment, Mercedes thought he was done, but he let out a loud snort as soon as she'd relaxed in her chair. She reached out and smacked him on the arm, which made Sam laugh and lean away from her.

"Boy, don't make me pull out my afro ninja, because I will kick your ass, Blondie." She growled at him, which only made Sam laugh harder and snort again. Mercedes hit him on the shoulder and Sam finally moved to the other side of Kurt, who was staring between the two in amusement.

"That last one was an accident, I swear," Sam insisted as he held his hands up in mock terror. As upset as she looked, Mercedes didn't really seem all that mad and her punches hadn't hurt all that much. He knew she wasn't actually pissed at him. She shot him the stink eye, but relented.

"Damn, hot mama got some fire in her," Puck said from the lower risers. Lauren was smirking in amusement and Mercedes shot Puck a look.

"Keep talking like that Puckerman, and I'll light you a fire—one directly under your ass," Lauren said, "This sexy lady doesn't share." Puck grinned at his girlfriend and Mr. Schue laughed.

"Are you finished abusing Sam, Mercedes?" he asked.

"For now," she replied which caused Sam to grin.

"Alright, back to the assignment—"Sam raised his hand and interrupted the teacher, who looked surprised. "Yes, Sam?"

"I know you were giving this week's assignment, but I've been preparing something and I wanted to play it for you guys."

"Sure," Mr. Schue agreed. "Come on up."

Sam grabbed his guitar from where he'd set it down.

"What song are you doing?" Rachel asked and Sam lifted his head to look at her.

"Put your records on by Corinne Bailey Rae," he responded and Mr. Schue's eyebrows rose. "Since it is a woman's song, I had to change up some of the chords and the key, but I think you'll like the new arrangement."

Sam started strumming the familiar melody and the musicians followed his lead. Sam was smiling as he started singing, "Three little birds, sat on my window." He winked at Rachel who was dancing lightly in her chair. "And they told me I don't need to worry.Summer came like cinnamon; so sweet,little girls double-dutch on the concrete."

Rachel and Quinn were singing along as Sam slowed the music for the next verse, "Maybe sometimes, we've got it wrong, but it's alright. The more things seem to change, the more they stay the same. Oh, don't you hesitate."

"Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song," Sam sung, his eyes closing and he started dancing as he got into the music. Claps echoed around the room—all of the sound adding to the beat. "You go ahead, let your hair down. Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,just go ahead, let your hair down," he sang and Santana and Brittany joined in the chair dancing. The Latina's arms were in the air over her head as she danced in her seat. "You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow."

"Blue as the sky, sun burnt and lonely,sipping tea in a bar by the roadside," Sam voiced, the grin on his face completely infectious. Mercedes couldn't help but smile as he danced closer to the risers—his movements were still awkward and off beat, but he was having a good time and that was all that mattered.

He looked up at Mercedes and played his guitar for a minute, before he stopped and sung directly to her, "Don't you let those other boys fool you, got to love that afro hair do. Maybe sometimes, we feel afraid, but it's alright. The more you stay the same, the more they seem to change.Don't you think it's strange?"

Sam could see the understanding in her eyes. She would understand the reference to the situation with his mom. Sam closed his eyes as he returned to playing his guitar. His life had changed so much in such a short time that Sam could barely stand to think about it all. But as he heard the Glee club members cheer—a smile crossed his face; he had great friends.

"Girl, put your records on," Sam sung his heart out and before he knew what was happening, Rachel was on her feet dancing and singing along with him, "Tell me your favorite song. You go ahead, let your hair down. Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams, just go ahead, let your hair down.You're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow." Brittany was dancing next to Sam and harmonizing with him.

"'Twas more than I could take, pity for pity's sake. Some nights kept me awake; I thought that I was stronger. When you gonna realize, that you don't even have to try any longer?Do what you want to," Sam hit the highest note he had ever sung in Glee club on that last word.

It made everyone laugh and cheer. Mike was performing some complicated looking dance move as the performance continued. Sam had to stop himself from laughing as Finn tried to copy the Asian.

He bobbed his head and maneuvered his fingers along the strings of his guitar. It felt so good to be singing and playing his guitar again. Tears rushed to his eyes. He had missed this. The feeling of freedom he got when rocking out on his instrument. "Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song. You go ahead, let your hair down. Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams, just go ahead, let your hair down."

Mercedes danced in front of him and Sam gave her a blinding smile as she led them all in a dance move. She sang back up for him—adding in echoes and singing the melody.

They sang together for the last chorus, "Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song. You go ahead, let your hair down. Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams, just go ahead, let your hair down.Oh, you're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow."

Sam played the last chord with a dramatic flourish and laughter filled the room as he was hugged from all sides. Mr. Schue was clapping. "Wow, Sam," he said, "That was incredible. I didn't think you had that type of jazzy blues in you, but you definitely made that song your own. Good job!"

"Welcome back to Glee club!" Tina joked and Sam laughed at the small girl.

"Thanks," he replied with a smile that made his cheeks hurt. Since all this drama had begun, Sam hadn't felt so happy. Thoughts of his mother still plagued him and he knew that the pain wasn't going to disappear immediately. But being angry all the time was tiring and he had no desire to make himself miserable—there was plenty in his life that did that for him.

After Sam's stellar—if he said so himself—performance, Mr. Schue went on to explain that he wanted them to find a song about falling in love—but not the classic love song. He wanted something unique—a way of becoming more to someone in a funny or silly way—something that expressed the fact that no one loves the same way and everyone's love story is special.

Sam was interested to see what the others would come up with. And then Mr. Schue started talking about Nationals, "I think we should stick with what got us this far—and we should write our own original songs." He held up the rhyming dictionary. "So let's use the last hour of rehearsal and get to work."

The rest of Glee club passed with the standard drama between Quinn, Rachel and Finn, but the lighthearted humor in between more than made up for it. When they were all about to leave, Finn cleared his throat.

"Anyone up for some Call of Duty at the Hummel house? We've got plenty of snacks—"Finn was interrupted by Kurt.

"And healthy foods for those of us who don't want to look like Lumberjack Bob over here," Kurt stated and Finn gave him an insulted look.

"Dude, lay off my flannel," he told his brother. "I don't make fun of your clothes."

"You totally do, Finn," Kurt said, "You call my Marc Jacobs bag—a purse and you dressed a blow up doll in my gold Gucci trousers and named him Mr. Sparkly." Finn's smile was smug as he remembered that one.

The two looked like they were about to start bickering and Tina cleared her throat, "You were saying, Finn?"

The tall football player looked confused for a moment, before he remembered what he was talking about beforehand. "Oh, yeah, it'll just be a laid back party thing. You can bring homework and stuff, but when you get bored we can just chill."

There were shrugs and nods all around the room. Sam just kind of stared around the room—avoiding everyone's gaze.

He didn't have his truck anymore—his dad's car had finally given out this morning, so Sam handed the keys over to his father without his dad even asking for it. Even though dad had gotten a job, they didn't have enough to pay for any car repairs and it would be two weeks before his dad got a paycheck anyway—it would be measly because he was technically only working about five or six hours during the consultation meetings and he wouldn't be able to afford everything anyway.

So Sam was now a permanent walker. He didn't want to draw attention to this fact though. He kind of stood there, shuffling his feet and shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He wanted to go to Finn's house, but he had no way there and no way back home.

He was honestly surprised when he felt a hand fall on each of his shoulders. Santana stood on his left side and Brittany was on his right. He looked between them; feeling nervous and self-conscious.

"What?" he asked.

"You looked sad," Brittany said, "Do you need another cuddle?"

"Uh," Sam stuttered and Santana looked amused.

"Look trouty, you seemed a bit blue—and I figured you needed a ride." Sam stared at her.

This was some twilight zone, wasn't it? Santana being nice? What the hell?

"I saw you walking on my way to school this morning, so I'm offering you a ride, big lips, so you can accept it or not."

"Uh, yeah," Sam finally replied and he looked between the two of them. Brittany was smiling and Santana rolled her eyes. "Thanks."

She walked away from him, pulling Brittany with her. Sam wasn't the most observant, but he definitely saw Santana entwine her fingers with the blonde. His eyebrows rose, but he refrained from saying anything.

It was kind of hot, anyway. The thought made him smirk as he hurried to catch the two girls on their way out of the door. Time to have another makeshift Glee party and reminiscing on last night—he had to smile. They had played some fast and furious rounds of table tennis and cool-aid pong—they all remembered the promise they had made to Mr. Schue about not drinking until after Nationals.

In the end, it was Artie who had spanked them all in the tournament. The look on Puck's face when Artie slapped a ball so hard that it bruised his junk was priceless. He had gone down like a sack of potatoes and Sam, Blaine, Mike, and Finn were crying from laughter.

Artie had just looked smug and asked for the next contestant. Rachel and Mercedes had another diva off—singing the song "Halo" by Beyonce. A dance party had taken place in Puckerman's basement in which Brittany and Mike showed everybody up. They had all cleared out by midnight. It was fun and Sam enjoyed telling his dad all about it. His father had waited up for him and actually asked about his day and why the room was so clean.

Sam felt weirded out by the sudden interest in his life, but he was grateful at the same time. He enjoyed talking to his dad—something he'd probably never admit, but he felt close to his father for the first time in the past year.

Sam smiled again until Santana barked at him to hurry up and get in her car. Aware of his surroundings again, Sam climbed into the backseat of the silver Nissan and closed the door, just before Santana drove off.

It was time to party—Glee style.


REVIEW! I love hearing your feedback! What do you think of Sam and Mercedes' friendship? And the other Glee club members? Thanks guys! :)