A/N: 2024 update of the original 2011 story

Chapter 11: I Don't Want This Night To End

In the library, Sam hummed along to the music playing in his headphones as he twirled his mechanical pencil in his hands. Two notebooks lay open in front of him: one filled with random sketches—a gift from Stacey—and the other, his composition notebook, where the beginnings of his next manuscript were taking shape. He knew he should be working on his British Literature paper, but he couldn't ignore the flood of ideas that had taken hold of him. The words needed to be written down before they slipped away.

Choosing English as his major had surprised some, but to Sam, it was a journey he was meant to take. Growing up with dyslexia, reading and writing had always been challenges. However, with the support of his friends from Glee—particularly Mercedes and Mike—he managed to overcome them. A required humanities class in his freshman year opened up a new world for him. Dr. Goldey, his professor, saw his potential and encouraged him to turn his "disadvantage" into an advantage. One day, she handed him an article titled "Dyslexia: A Writer's Superpower." It was a game-changer. His love for comic books and sci-fi had always fueled his imagination, and once he realized that dyslexia could be a source of strength rather than a hindrance, his world expanded. Creative writing became his passion, and though it wasn't easy, he embraced it fully.

He was just finishing a new line when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he removed his headphones to find a guy with thick-rimmed square glasses standing behind him.

"Hi, Sam!" The guy thrust a hand toward him. "John Haverton. Sports Media."

Sam leaned back, awkwardly shaking his hand. "Hey… what's up?"

Without waiting for an invitation, John took a seat across from him. "I'm writing an article for the Richter Rabble about our athletes, their hopes for next year, and their plans for the off-season."

"Okay…" Sam sighed, already weary of the conversation. "Shoot."

Being a successful college athlete came with its share of annoyances, and one of the biggest was the constant attention. Reporters always wanted to know every detail—every plan, every practice. While Sam was proud of his team, it got old quickly. It felt like they only cared about his opinion, ignoring the contributions of his teammates who were just as responsible for their success.

Sam answered the usual questions, ones he had heard countless times before. It was so predictable that he could almost anticipate the next question before John could ask it.

And here it comes… Sam thought, rolling his eyes internally.

"So… I'm sure you're already hearing from NFL execs. How are—"

"Oh hey! Look at the time, I've got to get to the Goldtones meeting! I'm running late!" Sam shot up from his chair, quickly shoving his things into his bag.

"Wait, what about the Goldtones? What are you t—"

"See ya!" Sam was out the door before John could finish his sentence. He didn't slow down until he reached the music building and the practice room where the Goldtones held their meetings. There wasn't another practice until tomorrow, but it was the one place where he knew he'd find peace. It reminded him of his high school days, where the choir room had been a safe haven. In that space, it didn't matter if you were a jock or a geek—you were just you. Sure, there was drama, but it wasn't about the expectations placed on you by people who didn't even know you. They were a family—a crazy, dysfunctional family, but a family nonetheless. If he really thought about it, that was one of the reasons he decided to join the Goldtones.

He grabbed his guitar, which was propped up in the corner from the last rehearsal, and sat down on the piano bench. Whenever he felt out of sorts, he could always rely on his guitar to bring him back to center.

He began strumming the chords of a song that came to mind, singing softly as he played.

Well, I've been around, yeah I've done a little livin'

Seen my fair share of heroes and villains

I've been burned and I learned to take the bad with the good

I've bounced at the bottom and I've fallen from the top

I've sifted the rubble when the bubble got popped and I've

Stood in a hall where all of the legends have stood.

Behind him, a melodic voice joined in, harmonizing perfectly. Sam's smile grew as he recognized the voice immediately.

It left me with high hopes and low expectations

A little of both to keep my sanity

They've seen me through some messed-up situations

High hopes, low expectations…

Sam chuckled, "You still remember that song, huh? Have you ever admitted to anyone that Miss Mercedes Jones knows country songs?" He turned slowly to see Mercedes leaning against the doorframe.

Mercedes gave a shrug, "How can you call yourself an artist without a little versatility?"

Sam continued playing, his fingers moving effortlessly over the strings. "Exactly… so… what are your plans after college?"

"Songwriting. Performing. I want to learn the ins and outs of the music industry." Mercedes sat down in a chair by the door.

"And become the star you were born to be…" Sam played a crescendoed chord progression.

Mercedes laughed softly. "I mean… of course, that would be amazing, but honestly, anything to do with music, I would be happy."

"You're going to get a big recording contract, go platinum, get a Grammy, trend on Twitter…" Sam suddenly shifted to a more upbeat tune. "Hashtag…." He tapped his nose in thought. "MercedesSmellsGood." He ended on a bright chord.

Mercedes gave him a puzzled look before bursting into laughter. "Boy, WHAT?"

Sam shrugged with a grin. "I don't know, you can get anything trending on Twitter AND you actually do smell really good. You always have."

"Thanks." Mercedes blushed slightly.

"Anytime. If you need a hype man, I'm here." Sam winked.

Mercedes' blush deepened. There was a comfortable silence before Sam began playing another familiar tune. Mercedes recognized it immediately—another country song.

You got your hands up

You're rocking in my truck

You got the radio on

You're singing every song

I'm set on cruise control

I'm slowly losing hold of everything I've got

You're looking so damn hot

And I don't know what road we're on or where we've been

From staring at you, girl

All I know is that I know

I don't want this night to end.

They were both transported back to those warm summer nights in Sam's dad's old beat-up truck, where they played every song under the sun—oldies, hip hop, rap, pop, country—introducing each other to new music.

"Just admit it. You like this song now!" Sam reached over and playfully squeezed her knee.

Mercedes rolled her eyes, "Like is a strong word… but I won't deny Luke Bryan is kinda cute."

Sam shot her a mock glare. "Jealous?"

"I can sing better than Luke Bryan AND I'm hotter than him."

"Okay, keep telling yourself that." Mercedes reached over to pat his face. Sam turned his head in an attempt to bite her finger, but she quickly withdrew, laughing loudly. "And pay attention to the road! I want to get back to Stevie and Stacey in one piece, please!"

"You started it!"

"I did not!"

"Yuh huh!" Sam mimicked Stacey's voice perfectly.

"Nuh uh!" Mercedes shot back in the same tone, and they both dissolved into laughter.

Sam sang the line again as the memory played in his mind. "I don't know what road we're on or where we've been from staring at you, girl." He winked at her.

Mercedes sang along, reaching out to take his hand. "All I know is I don't want this night to end."

As Sam finished the last chord, he felt a dull ache in his chest, wishing he could bring back those nights—drive her somewhere far away and let her worries fly out of the window of his truck.

Later, at his desk in his dorm room, Sam sighed as he continued doodling in his notebook. "For the tenth time, I'm not dyeing my hair—wait no, this is like the hundredth time you've asked me this since high school." He pointed his pen at the laptop camera.

"But seriously, how do you get your hair that tone? It's gotten less yellow and darker since high school but in a nice way… Do you use purple shampoo?" From the computer screen, Kurt could be seen leaning into his own laptop as if he could see Sam's hair better that way.

"Purple shampoo? What's that?"

"Well, you use it for– never mind." Kurt threw his hands up. "Either way, I want that color. I'll ask my hairstylist for it at my next appointment." He picked up his phone and started scrolling through it. "I think Mercedes sent me a pic of you somewhere."

Sam straightened in his chair. "A picture of me? Like recently?"

Kurt smirked smugly. "Ah, and that brings us to the real reason for this video call…"

"What? Can't I just call you?" Sam blushed lightly.

Kurt rolled his eyes, "Sam, Sam, Sam, I love you like family, but let's be real, if you really just wanted to call for funsies, you would have called me a long time ago. It's fine, I totally understand—if an ex of mine suddenly came back into my life, I wouldn't be above these kinds of methods."

"Ooooh, so if an ex came back into your life, you would—"

"Stop right there! This is about you, not me." Kurt quickly held up a finger to stop him. "Did Mercy tell you that?" He squinted at him.

Sam shrugged. "Maybe? But hey, I still talk to Blaine sometimes, you know…"

Kurt made a face like he was about to say something but paused.

"Okay, in all seriousness…" Sam spun his pen in his hands. "I know Mercedes has been through a lot in the past couple of years, and I want to be there for her. I hate that I wasn't there for her back then…"

"Life took us all in different directions. You can't change the direction your life took you…"

"I know… but... I never wanted to leave her…" Sam mumbled softly.

Sam realized that he hadn't let himself dwell on the end of that summer. When he learned that his family was moving away again because his dad had found a job that would turn things around, it was a complicated feeling. He was so happy for his dad and for his family as a whole, but that didn't make it hurt any less, knowing he was leaving Mercedes. He had gone through so many different scenarios in his head. Maybe they could maintain their relationship? But then how could he visit her without causing strain? Should he stay in Lima? But then how would his family manage, especially Stevie and Stacey, who needed him?

In the end, Mercedes was the realist. They were sitting in darkness on the Jones' front porch when he broke the news. With tears in her eyes and a sad smile on her face, she told him how happy she was for him and that he needed to move forward and not look back. Sam didn't want to accept it at all, not when she was finally that ray of sunshine that broke through the storm he had gone through.

He suddenly could vividly remember that night in her car when he held on tightly to her for hours, not wanting to let go, as Mercedes ran her fingers through his hair, humming a gentle tune, her lips pressed against his head. He recalled how it rained, and he let it drench him to the bone as he watched her car drive away from the motel.

The ache in his chest bloomed more strongly…

"Sam…" Kurt's voice softly broke him away from the memory. Sam lifted his head slightly to acknowledge him again. "To be perfectly honest, back then, I really didn't know how much it meant to you… to you both. It was over before Mercedes would even open up to me about it. She brushed it off as a summer fling and moved on with her life."

Sam felt the ache in his chest intensify.

"But in retrospect, I know Mercedes was downplaying it just to save herself from the heartache of you leaving. She's a strong woman, you know, she never wanted to show any weaknesses."

Sam smiled slightly, nodding his head in agreement.

"She went on to college and met… this guy… Everything seemed great, amazing actually. She seemed so into him and the feeling felt mutual. It wasn't apparent at first, but… I really hate myself for not realizing it sooner." Kurt's voice broke slightly.

Sam leaned in. "Kurt… don't be hard on yourself. You couldn't possibly have known…"

Kurt shook his head as if to shake the thought away. "I know, I know… but anyway, there were small signs. Mercedes canceling plans on us, even our little video calls. But you could just sense there was a shift in her mood. Like she was on edge. And it started affecting everything—school, her friendships, her family life… I will never forget the day she called me and Quinn and just… told us everything." The tears in his eyes were apparent even through the computer screen, and Sam wished he could give him a hug. Instead, he gripped tightly at a baseball on his bedside table, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"I'm so happy that she moved and started completely anew at this school. It really looks like she is thriving in every way possible. And, Sam…. I say this with full confidence: I am so happy you are back in her life. She needs someone there to remind her that she's safe and free to be herself. It's like you were meant to be reunited. I believe it."

Sam didn't realize he had tears in his eyes too until that moment. He ran a hand over his face in a weak attempt to mask it. "Me too," he said softly.

"Now I'm not sure exactly how to proceed. I know Mercedes is still healing… but she has come so far. Sam, I trust you. I think you'll find the right time and place for everything to come together."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

Sam blew out a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Thank you so much, Kurt…"

"Of course… anytime." Kurt gave him a warm smile. "Now, if you're going to make it up to me, I fully expect you and Mercedes to name your firstborn after me."

Sam blushed violently. "Wait, WHAT? Where the hell is this even coming from?"

"And having a girl isn't even an excuse. There are so many kids with gender-neutral names, and I totally can see Kurt as a gender-neutral name. It would be so unique. I'm sure Mercedes would be on board with this. Kurtis would be a cute girl's name!" Kurt rambled on.

"KURT, STOP."