Standard disclaimer: I don't own Glee or these characters, but gosh golly if I did...
"So let me get this straight." Kurt watched as his friend grimaced, adding a now empty tumbler to her growing collection. "You have to leave town and go to the middle of Nowhere, America because in a moment of desperation you took a job with an emotionally unavailable narcissist who turned out to be a criminal who got murdered for stealing from a client who happens to be the biggest drug lord slash human trafficker in the country?"
Mercedes let out a giggle.
"Yup," she said, reaching for another shot.
Kurt's eyes widened.
"'Cedes," he said, putting his hand over hers.
She shot him a glare and he removed his hand, swallowing as Mercedes quickly consumed the beverage.
"Another round please," she said with a hiccup.
"No!" Kurt looked at the bartender who was about to start preparing the drinks. "Water please."
Mercedes let out a groan. "Kurt, I asked you to meet me here and help me get drunk. If you're not gonna do that then just leave."
"Mercy, look. It's 12:30 in the afternoon. We have to get you packed and you need to sleep this off."
"I'm not going." She shook her head defiantly, grasping her temples when the sudden movement proved to be too much.
"What do you mean you're not going?"
"I can't just leave you guys. LA is my home. Everything –" her voice broke as another hiccup escaped, "I know is here. My job. My classes. My friendssss." She reached over and hugged him, nuzzling his neck.
"Mercy," he said, adjusting on the barstool to accommodate having someone lean on him, "What job? Your boss is dead and his replacement is trying to kill you. Classes? You can take a leave of absence. And as for us, we'll be a phone call away. This isn't forever you know, it might be-"
He stopped when he heard a sniffle and felt her body shake with sobs.
"Oh honey."
"Kurt, why is this happening? All I wanted was to be a star and now everything is blown to shit."
He cringed at her word choice. Mercedes never cursed and he didn't know whether to chalk it up to the alcohol or the situation that prompted the drinking. It was probably a mix of both.
"Come on, let's get you home."
A few hours later Mercedes awoke with a start. She looked around and tried to get her bearings, relaxing when she recognized the cover tossed over her legs and the decorations in her living room.
"'Bout time you woke up, you lush."
Santana walked over and joined Mercedes on the couch, wrapping her in an embrace.
"I love you, you know that right?" she whispered.
Mercedes nodded, feeling her eyes well up.
"So know that if you get hurt I'll kill you," Santana said, her voice slightly breaking. She squeezed a little tighter before leaning back and placing a kiss on Mercedes' forehead. She stood up.
"How much shit do you have by the way? Goodness. We've been packing for hours."
"You've been what?"
"Kurt called and told me what was going on. I met him here. You have to head to the airport in a few hours."
Mercedes leaned forward and dropped her head in her hands, her head pounding as a result of the alcohol consumed and the reality setting in.
"What am I gonna do with my apartment? All of my stuff?"
Santana answered as she began to sort the hallway closet. "No worries, I'll take care of it. I need a new place to crash anyway. The financial convenience isn't worth the hassle of an annoying roommate."
Mercedes lifted her head and raised an eyebrow. Santana had been living with her latest roommate for about three months.
"What did you do?" she asked slowly.
Santana poked her head out and tossed Mercedes a look of pure innocence.
"What makes you think I did anything?"
Mercedes just looked at her.
Santana huffed. "Fine. She said she was curious so I gave her a chance to find out if she likes chicks. Now she keeps harassing me to hook up again."
Mercedes shook her head, not surprised in the least. Her gorgeous friend had a trail of sprung saps – women and men alike – sitting by their phone hoping for a call or text.
"But yeah, I'll just take over your lease until you get back or it runs out – whichever comes first. What do you want to eat? We have to get some food in you before you yack all over your seat buddy on the plane."
Mercedes was about to answer when there was a knock on her door. She slowly got up and walked over, opening it without looking though the peephole.
"You really should be more careful when you open the door, Mercedes," Officer Abrams reprimanded as he walked in. "You didn't even ask who it was and you didn't look through the peephole."
She just looked at him. "What are you doing here?"
They stared each other in silence until Santana cleared her throat, reminding them that they weren't alone.
The officer waited a beat before answering. "I came by to see if you needed any assistance or had any questions. We have a few hours before you have to get to the airport, but I wanted to go over some logistics with you."
Santana looked back and forth between him and Mercedes, taking note of the look of interest in the officer's eyes, a stark contrast to the look of hesitation in her friend's.
"Oh."
Santana raised an eyebrow at Mercedes' response and excused herself to join Kurt as he worked on the master bedroom. When the two emerged a few minutes later, they found Mercedes alone in the living room.
"Where did he go?" Santana asked as she walked over to the kitchen drawer for takeout menus.
"A call came in on the radio and he had to go in."
"Oh. You know he wants you, right?"
Mercedes chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm serious He was looking at you as though he was on death row and you were his last meal. You should test out his handcuffs. You know, one last hoorah in good ol' LA."
Kurt coughed, scandalized by his friend.
"There's nothing there you guys. He's nice, but not my type."
"And your type is?"
Mercedes opened her mouth to speak, but Kurt cut her off.
"Cheating scumbag or a lying criminal."
Mercedes groaned at the summary of her love life.
"Look you guys, I'm fine. I don't need a man to –"
"Bend you over and make you forget your name? Please," Santana scoffed.
Mercedes shot her a look.
Santana sorted through the menus, discarding the ones she wasn't in the mood for.
"All I'm saying is that there's nothing wrong with a case of amnesia. And if Mr. Officer Man wants to frisk you, let him."
Kurt cut in. "'Cedes, do me a favor. I know this sucks and it's not what you had planned for yourself, but you're going. Think of it as a vacation. Use this opportunity to find you again. You're hot. You're smart. You're a hell of a catch. Your mission – should you choose to accept it – is to find a sexy man in Nowhere and make him yours."
Mercedes laughed softly and shook her head at her friends. She was gonna to miss them.