Enjoy!

What If Vegas Pt. 3

Mercedes adjusted the silver dress, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin. She reached for her earrings when a knock sounded at the door.

"Santana, come in!" she called without turning around, expecting her friend.

The door creaked open, and a familiar voice answered, "It's not Santana."

Mercedes spun around, her eyes wide as she saw Sam standing in the doorway, still in his tailored suit. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them heavy.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

Sam stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I said I would be here, besides, your mom and Roz honestly scare me a little."

Mercedes shook her head, her frustration bubbling over. "This is a mistake. You shouldn't be here. You should just go."

Sam's brows knitted in confusion as he took a step closer. "Wait, what's going on? I thought we were on the same page earlier. Did something happen?"

Mercedes turned away, folding her arms. She hesitated before finally asking, "Does your family hate me?"

Sam blinked, startled. "What? No. They don't even really know you to hate you."

Her laugh was bitter as she turned back to face him.

Sam's face showed confusion before he realized what happened. "What did Thomas do?"

"He snuck into my dressing room earlier. He said your family hates my music and that now they hate me because I 'seduced' you. He said you were on your way back to LA because you couldn't stand being around me."

Sam's eyes widened in shock. "What? That's not true—"

"I didn't believe him at first, but then I remembered all the times I'd asked him to meet your family. I gave him free tickets to my shows, Sam. Every time, he'd say your family thought I wasn't good enough. That I wasn't pretty enough. And I was stupid enough to believe him."

Sam stepped closer, his face softening as he realized the depth of her hurt. "Mercedes, I don't know why he said those things, but I promise you, none of that's true. My family doesn't hate you. They don't even know you because—" He hesitated, looking down for a moment. "Because Tom always said you refused to meet them. The only reason we met was because he brought me as his plus one to one of your events, which I assume was just because he needed a ride."

Mercedes stared at him, her breath catching. "That lying bastard," she whispered, the weight of Tom's manipulations pressing down on her.

Sam reached out tentatively, his hand brushing her arm. "Hey, don't let him get in your head. He's just trying to stir things up because he's bitter. None of what he said is true, Mercedes."

Mercedes stared at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt. She found none.

"Alright," she finally said, her voice quieter now. "But Sam, if you ever feel like this is too much—"

"I don't," he interrupted, his tone firm. "I told you I'm here. And I mean it. We are in this together."

Mercedes nodded slowly, the tension between them easing just slightly.

A knock at the door broke the moment, and Santana's voice called through the door. "Hey, lovebirds, soundcheck's done, and you've got twenty minutes before the show. You good in there?"

Mercedes sighed, smoothing the fabric of her dress. "Yeah, we're good."

As she moved toward the door, Sam stopped her. "Mercedes."

She turned back to him, and he gave her a reassuring smile. "You look amazing, by the way."

Despite everything, her lips curved into a faint smile. "Thanks."

As she opened the door, Santana glanced between them, her brows raised knowingly. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Mercedes said again, brushing past her. But as she walked down the hall, her mind was still racing, Tom's words fading into the background as Sam's reassurances replayed in her head.

Sam stood in the shadows at the side of the stage; his arms crossed as he watched Mercedes command the crowd. She was electric, moving and singing, her voice wrapping around every note like it was made for her. But it wasn't just her voice. It was her.

She had changed from that silver bombshell dress to her shimmering red dress, which clung to her curves in a sexy way. Every shake of her hips made it harder for Sam to focus on anything but the thoughts running wild in his head.

He swallowed hard, tugging at his collar, and muttered to himself, "Keep it together, Evans."

"Enjoying the view?" Sebastian's voice cut through his thoughts, startling him.

"What? No—well, I mean, yeah, but—" Sam stammered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Sebastian smirked. "Relax, loverboy. You're supposed to be drooling over your wife. Makes it more believable."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "You ready to go on stage, Romeo."

Sam blinked. "I'm doing what now?"

Sebastian sighed dramatically, clearly annoyed. "You're going on stage. Mercedes is about to announce that you're her husband."

"So I'm just supposed to wave, right?"

"Uh, no." Sebastian smiled. "You gotta sell it.

"What!" Sam hissed, his voice low but panicked.

Blaine joined them, his expression cheerful. "Come on, Sam. Think about it. If you want people to believe you're the proud husband, you've got to walk out there, hug her, kiss her, tell her how amazing she was." He gave Sam a pointed look, his tone teasing. "And let's be honest— in that dress. That shouldn't be too hard for you."

Sam's jaw dropped, his face turning red. "I—" He stopped, realizing he had no defense.

The music shifted, slowing down as Mercedes stood in the center of the stage. She smiled out at the crowd, her eyes sparkling under the lights.

"Thank you all for coming out tonight," she said, her voice warm and filled with gratitude. The crowd roared in response, and she laughed softly. "You know, there's been a lot of talk lately about my life offstage. And, well… I guess you've all heard from a little birdy that I'm officially off the market."

The audience erupted in cheers, some chanting her name.

Mercedes tilted her head playfully. "So, here's the deal. Maybe if you're loud enough, my very sexy hubby will come out and make an appearance. What do you think?"

The arena exploded with noise, the crowd clapping and shouting, and Sam froze as Sebastian gave him a little shove.

"Go," Sebastian urged.

Sam hesitated, but then his eyes locked on Mercedes. The way she stood there, smiling, waiting—it was like she was daring him. And before he knew it, his feet were moving.

The crowd screamed as Sam stepped into the spotlight, his eyes fixed on her. Mercedes turned, her expression shifting from surprise to curiosity as he approached.

"Sam?" she started, but before she could say anything else, he literally swept her off her feet.

Her breath caught as he lifted her effortlessly, spinning her around as the crowd went wild. She barely had time to react before he dipped her backward and kissed her deeply.

The cheers became deafening as her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. Her surprise melted into the kiss. Sam held her close, his hand steady at her back and his lips lingering longer than they probably should have.

When he finally pulled away, his face was flushed, and his heart was pounding. He looked out at the roaring crowd, then back down at Mercedes, who was staring up at him with wide eyes.

"Well," she said breathlessly, a slow smile spreading across her face. "That was… unexpected."

"Sorry, guys, but my wife is irresistible." Sam said into the mic as he cleared his throat, helping her stand upright. He glanced nervously at the crowd. "Thanks for having me?"

The audience erupted in laughter and applause, and Mercedes chuckled, shaking her head.

As Sam turned to leave the stage, she grabbed his arm, leaning in close. "You just stole my thunder, Evans," she teased.

He grinned, his confidence returning. "What can I say? I'm a scene-stealer."

She rolled her eyes, laughing as she turned back to the audience. "Alright, let's give it up for my husband, y'all!"

The crowd cheered again as Sam walked off the stage, his heart still racing. Sebastian was waiting for him, a knowing smirk on his face.

"Well," Sebastian said, clapping him on the shoulder. "That was convincing."

Sam shot him a look but couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. He was in way over his head, but for the first time, he wasn't sure he minded.

The soft hum of the plane filled the cabin as Sam stared towards the window, though his attention wasn't on the clouds. Across from him, Mercedes sat cross-legged in her seat, absorbed in whatever she was reading.

Her casual outfit—capris, an oversized off-the-shoulder top exposing her sports bra, and a messy bun perched atop her head—was a stark contrast to the glamorous image she projected on stage.

Glasses perched on her nose as she occasionally chewed her lip, showing she was focused.

Sam studied her, trying to reconcile the fierce performer with the relaxed, studious woman before him. She was beautiful, and it wasn't lost on him that he was insanely attracted to his wife.

Mercedes looked up, catching him in the act. She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. "What's wrong?"

He blinked, realizing he'd been caught. "Nothing," he said quickly, then added, "What are you working on?"

A playful smile tugged at her lips as she gestured to the seat next to her. "Come find out."

Sam hesitated for a moment before unbuckling his seatbelt and moving to sit beside her. She angled her tablet toward him, and he saw a script displayed on the screen.

"What's this?" he asked, glancing from the screen to her.

Mercedes grinned, a touch of excitement in her voice. "It's a script. I got the part last week, but no one knows yet. I've been trying to learn my lines before filming starts."

Sam's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You're going to be in a movie?"

"Mm-hmm," she said, scrolling through the script. "It's a sci-fi thriller. Not exactly where I thought I'd end up, but when they offered me the role, I was intrigued." She shrugged, her smile widening. "Who doesn't love a good sci-fi thriller?"

Sam chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a sci-fi fan."

Mercedes laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Evans."

"Apparently," he said, studying her. "You're not who I thought you were."

She tilted her head, her smile turning thoughtful. "Neither are you."

Their eyes met, and the space between them felt charged. Sam opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, a loud laugh erupted from the back of the plane, breaking the spell.

Santana's voice carried over. "I swear, Bas, if you don't shut up, I'm throwing you out midair!"

Mercedes shook her head, her laughter soft as she turned back to her script. "Looks like peace and quiet isn't on the menu today."

Sam smiled, leaning back and watching her as she resumed reading. "I guess not."

Santana and Sebastian sauntered up to the front of the plane, Blaine trailing behind them with an amused grin. Santana plopped down across from Sam and Mercedes while Sebastian leaned against the armrest, his trademark smirk firmly in place.

"We've been talking," Sebastian began, his tone casual but mischievous. "You two need to move in together."

Sam frowned. "Why?"

"Because," Santana said, rolling her eyes as if the answer were obvious, "you're married. That's what married people do; they live together."

Sam crossed his arms. "She lives like over an hour away from my job. Why can't we live at my place?"

Sebastian gave him a pitying look. "Because your place has no security, and that's a hard no from all of us—and the label. Speaking of which," he added, flashing Mercedes a grin, "the label's agreed to pay for your place as a little wedding gift. Of course, that's as long as you stay married for over six months."

Mercedes sighed, leaning back in her seat. "This is ridiculous."

Virginia stirred in her reclined seat, her voice muffled with sleep. "Why not just buy a house? It's paid for. Might as well."

Mercedes looked at her mother incredulously. "Mom, seriously?"

Virginia shrugged and went back to sleep.

Mercedes shook her head. "No. It's not fair to Sam; we agreed on three months."

Santana nodded, though her grin suggested she wasn't about to back down. "We know, but come on, if you get divorced in three, you are basically a Kardashian. It's gotta be at least six, if not more."

Sam spoke while looking at Mercedes, his voice steady. "Unfortunately, that does make sense. Three months will still love fake."

Everyone turned to him in surprise.

"Sam, we need to talk about this."

Sam glanced at Mercedes, his expression unreadable. "Ok, then we'll discuss it," he said firmly.

Everyone nodded as the plane prepared to land, even though the tension lingered. Once they were settled into a private town car, Sam turned to Mercedes. "What are your thoughts?"

Mercedes sighed, staring out the window. "My movie is filming at Paramount Studios, and I have a driver, so my commute isn't an issue. As for the marriage thing, I will do whatever works for you."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "I think it would be better if we stayed married for six months—maybe even a year. For both our careers."

Mercedes turned to him, her brow furrowed. "Do you really think we can do that? A year's a long time."

Sam shrugged but met her gaze earnestly. "I think we have to. For your career and my business, it's what makes sense."

She exhaled, leaning back in her seat. "Fine. But if we do this, there is no dating. No sleeping with anyone."

"Does that include you?" He didn't know why he asked that, but in truth, he had been craving her since that kiss.

She blushed, looking at him, and nodded after thinking it over. "I know asking a to not have sex for a year is a lot. So I will give you like a punch card."

"A punch card?" He asked, smirking. She wanted him, too.

"Yes, if you use it, I will rock your world."

Sam shook his head. "Three? That's not going to work. That's like once every four months, no. I say give me fifty, and we are good."

Mercedes laughed, shaking her head. "No. What about twelve, that's once a month?"

Sam shook his head. "Thirty, but I feel like I am getting the lower end of this stick here."

Mercedes eyed him and sighed. "Eighteen, and that's the best I can do."

Sam nodded. "Fine, but they have to be per session; you can't use it against me if we have sex more than once, like that night and the morning."

"Fine, as long as neither one of us leaves the bed, it counts as one time."

Sam reached out his hand. "Deal. Now, are you gonna like punch an actual card?" He teased.

"Shut up, " she said, looking away from him so he wouldn't see her smile. I will keep my penthouse. Santana practically lives there anyway, and since it's paid for, it'd be stupid to let it go."

Sam nodded. "So we are buying a house?"

"Or letting the label buy it for us."

He grinned. "Well, let's get a good one. We might as well enjoy this whole thing while we're stuck with it."

Shaking her head, Mercedes let a small smile creep onto her face. "Alright, Evans. Let's see how good you are at playing house."

Sam leaned back, satisfied. "Challenge accepted."