Ok sorry, I meant the new stories like :
My Best Friend's Boyfriend
Twist of Fate
Bound By Fate
In the Princesses Court
A Second Chance at Christmas
There are also a few that don't have a title yet. But two things: If you review this and I get at least 8 Yeses because that's my favorite number, I will upload all of the first chapters of these stories!
Mercedes stepped off the elevator, her phone pressed to her ear, and her cousin Jane's voice came through warm and teasing.
"Are you sure you don't want to come over for dinner? Santana's mom makes the best stuffing, and you know you'll miss it. Plus, they love you!"
Mercedes smiled, shaking her head even though Jane couldn't see her. "I appreciate it, but you go and enjoy your time with her family. We'll catch up next week at our annual Friendsgiving dinner."
Jane sighed dramatically. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you when you're stuck eating takeout for Thanksgiving Dinner...and I want your sweet potato pie."
"Takeout sounds heavenly right now, and yes, you get my sweet potato pie and my mac and cheese, and you better bring them greens." Mercedes teased, ending the call as she stepped into the hall.
The moment the elevator doors slid closed behind her, the faint scent of smoke tickled her nose. She paused mid-step, her brow furrowing.
Following the smell down the corridor toward her apartment, she heard a loud, frustrated shout from the direction of Sam's place.
"Dammit!" She heard Sam yell.
Mercedes hesitated. Against her better judgment, she knocked on his door.
A crash echoed inside, followed by muttered cursing, and the door flew open.
Sam stood there, looking disheveled and exasperated. His tousled blonde hair was sticking up in every direction, his green Henley shirt was soaked with water and sprinkled with flour, and his jeans were splattered with something unidentifiable. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it even messier.
"Uh…everything okay?" Mercedes asked, arching a brow.
Sam groaned and stepped aside to let her see the chaos behind him. His smoke detector blared overhead, and the air in the apartment was thick with a hazy fog.
"Not even close," he admitted.
The piercing alarm made Mercedes wince, and before she could say anything, Sam yanked off his shirt, revealing a lean, muscular torso. He swung the shirt around wildly under the smoke detector until the noise finally stopped.
Mercedes rolled her eyes but stepped inside, coughing as she waved a hand in front of her face. She moved toward the windows and slid them open, letting fresh air pour in.
"What are you doing in here, trying to burn the place down?" she asked.
Sam sighed heavily, resting his hands on his hips. "I was trying to surprise my family. They're coming all the way from Nashville to spend Thanksgiving with me, and I thought I'd cook dinner for them. Only…I can't cook, and it turns out following directions is a scam."
Mercedes turned toward the oven, her gaze catching on a plastic pan melting inside. She stepped forward quickly, switching the oven off before turning back to him. "You put a plastic pan in the oven?"
Sam groaned, covering his face with his hands. "I didn't realize it was plastic when I preheated it, okay?!" He peeked at her between his fingers, his expression full of self-deprecating humor. "Yeah, I'm an idiot."
She couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her. "Okay, I'll give you that one. And you aren't an idiot; you are sweet for doing all this. But why not just order food or something?"
Sam looked genuinely distraught, his shoulders slumping. "Because I wanted it to feel special. My mom always makes this big deal out of Thanksgiving, and I thought if I could pull it off, they'd think… I don't know that I had my life together or something."
Mercedes hesitated, her initial annoyance softening at his earnestness. She crossed her arms and asked, "How much time do we have?"
Sam glanced at his phone. "Six hours. But honestly, with how this is going, I might as well just order pizza and call it a day."
She sighed, shaking her head; what he was doing was sweet, reminding her of what JJ would do for her. "Six hours is tight, but I think we can make it work. Pack up all your food and supplies, bring them to my place, and I'll help you cook. Your apartment needs to air out anyway."
Sam blinked, surprised. "Wait—you'd help me? Why?"
"Because I'm your manager, and my job is to make your life easier," she said matter-of-factly.
Sam just stared at her for a moment, his gratitude shining through. Then, a slow, almost boyish grin spread across his face. "You're amazing, you know that?"
Mercedes smirked. "Don't push it. Ten minutes. Bring everything over."
Mercedes quickly changed into something more comfortable—a pair of yoga pants, an oversized T-shirt, and her favorite fluffy slippers. Her hair was twisted into a messy bun, and she tied an apron around her waist that read Diva in the Kitchen in glittery script. She glanced at her reflection in the oven door, adjusting the apron and chuckling to herself. "Let's see what disaster I'm about to walk into."
A knock sounded at her door, and Mercedes opened it to find Sam standing there, now wearing a black T-shirt that stretched snugly across his chest. He carried several grocery bags and a hopeful expression.
"Come on in," Mercedes said, stepping aside.
Sam set the bags on the counter and gave her a once-over, his gaze lingering on her apron. A grin spread across his face. "That apron suits you. You look cute."
Mercedes rolled her eyes but felt a small warmth spread through her chest at the compliment. "Thanks, Mr. Evans," she replied wryly, brushing past him to start unpacking the bags.
"Mercedes, you are literally saving my life; you can call me Sam."
Mercedes nodded as she surveyed the groceries, her brow furrowed. She pulled out an unseasoned turkey, some boxed mashed potato mix, a jar of canned gravy, and...a pack of sliced cheese.
Mercedes sighed, giving Sam a pointed look. "Please tell me this isn't everything."
Sam rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's...everything."
Mercedes muttered under her breath, grabbing her phone. "Wash your hands. We've got work to do."
Sam moved toward the sink without argument, and Mercedes quickly typed out a message to her assistant, Kitty:
Mercedes: Kitty, I need a favor. Can you grab a few things for me? Sending you a list now.
Kitty responded almost immediately.
Kitty: Saved by work on Thanksgiving? Yes, please. Family's driving me up the wall. What do you need?
Mercedes sent over a list of ingredients and added a note:
Mercedes: I'll give you a bonus for this.
Kitty: No need! But I'll take the bonus.
Shaking her head, Mercedes tossed her phone onto the counter and opened her fridge. "Lucky for you, I've got some veggies in here," she said, pulling out onions, celery, and carrots.
Sam dried his hands and stepped beside her. "What's the plan, Chef Jones?"
Mercedes smirked. "First, we're going to handle this turkey. You seriously thought you just stick it in the oven?"
Sam shrugged helplessly. "That's what the directions said!"
Mercedes laughed as she set the turkey on the counter. "That's the bare minimum, Sam. Let me show you how actually to cook one."
She cleaned the turkey, rinsing and patting it dry before stuffing it with onions, celery, and carrots. Sam watched in fascination as she mixed butter and her array of seasonings, rubbing it generously all over the bird.
"This is where the magic happens," Mercedes explained, her hands working deftly. "The butter and seasoning give it flavor, and the veggies inside keep it moist."
"Got it. Butter, seasonings, and veggies," Sam repeated, nodding like he was taking mental notes.
Once the turkey was prepped, she placed it in the bottom oven of her double range.
Sam leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "What about everything else?"
Mercedes began unpacking more items from the fridge. "I ordered stuff for mac and cheese, yams, baked beans, and pies—apple and sweet potato. Kitty's picking it up now."
Sam's brows lifted in surprise. "Those are my family's favorites."
Mercedes glanced at him, smiling faintly. "Really? I didn't know. I just love making those two pies. Guess it's your lucky day."
Sam's face softened, and he just watched her work for a moment. Something was calming about the way Mercedes moved, confident and precise, as though the chaos of his earlier kitchen disaster didn't faze her in the slightest.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Mercedes paused, glancing up at him. "Don't thank me yet. You're still helping."
"Yes, ma'am," Sam replied with a mock salute, earning a chuckle from her.
As they began to prep the remaining dishes, the space between them seemed to shrink—not just physically but emotionally.
Sam followed her instructions, chopping vegetables and mixing ingredients, while Mercedes kept the mood light with quips about his earlier fiasco.
For the first time in a long while, Sam felt the warmth of connection in a way he hadn't expected. Maybe it was the comforting scent of spices and butter filling the Kitchen, but as they worked side by side, he couldn't stop the thought that maybe he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
Mercedes hummed to herself as she covered the mac and cheese, the golden crust perfectly baked. She checked on the pies cooling on the counter, the rich aromas filling her Kitchen.
"What is that song you are singing?" Sam asked as he stirred the baked beans.
"Oh, it's from Wicked."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "What's Wicked?"
"Sam Evans, are you telling me you have never seen the Play or Movie?"
"Oh, you mean with the Wizard of Oz? I haven't seen it, but I think Stacey loves it. Wait, didn't it just come out?"
Mercedes nodded. "It did, but I know the director, and I was lucky enough to get an early screening file, so I have seen the movie at least a hundred times."
Sam's jaw twitched. "So I wasn't crazy?"
"What do you mean?" She asked, covering the pies.
"I kept hearing the same music every day all day. I can assume that's you?"
Grabbing the dish towel near her, she offered him a small smile. "Yeah, sorry about that; I can keep it down."
"Oh, no, I wasn't complaining; you really have a beautiful voice."
Mercedes blushed as her phone alarm chimed from the living room.
With a sigh, she wiped her hands on her apron and walked over to her purse. Digging inside, she pulled out a small pill case. Opening it, she slipped a pill into her hand, shaking out only the one she needed.
Sam, who had been wiping down the counter, noticed and furrowed his brow. Without a word, he opened her fridge, grabbed a water bottle, and handed it to her.
"Here," he said softly. "You okay?"
Mercedes smiled, touched by his gesture. "Yeah, I just need to take my meds." She hesitated, noticing the curiosity in his expression. "Go ahead, Sam. You can ask."
He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy. "I mean, only if you want to share..."
Mercedes leaned against the counter, her expression growing thoughtful. "When I was eighteen, I got into an accident. I passed out behind the wheel and crashed into a pole."
Sam's eyes widened, and he sucked in a sharp breath. "Mercedes—"
She held up a hand, her smile still gentle. "I was diagnosed with WPW—Wolff-Parkinson-White Syndrome."
"What is that?" Sam asked softly.
So, it was a heart condition where I had an extra passage in my heart, and my beats got stuck there with nowhere to go. Apparently, I've had it since birth, and no one ever knew. I hadn't even been feeling sick, then one day..."
Sam took a seat. "You ended up crashing?"
Mercedes chewed her bottom lip. "Yeah, thankfully, I was the only one in the car, and no one but me was hurt. I was rushed to the hospital. I had an ablation, which fixed my heart, but the accident messed up my nerves." She gestured toward her legs and hands. "So, I take nerve pills to help with that."
Sam's expression softened as he listened, his focus entirely on her.
"Then a few years later," Mercedes continued, "I learned I was in heart failure. The meds I take now help reduce the fluid in my lungs and keep everything balanced. It's been a lot, but I'm okay."
She glanced at him, noticing the pity creeping into his eyes.
"Don't," she said firmly, shaking her head.
"Don't what?" Sam asked, confused.
"Don't pity me," she said, her voice steady but resolute. "I don't need that. I've fought hard to live my life the way I want, and I'm proud of where I am."
Sam blinked, startled by her honesty, then shook his head. "Pity? No way. I'm in awe of you, Mercedes."
She blinked, surprised by his sincerity. Before she could respond, he stepped closer, his hand brushing hers as he placed it gently over her fingers.
The air between them thickened, charged with unspoken tension. Mercedes glanced at his hand, then into his eyes, her breath catching. He leaned in slightly, his face inches from hers, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her.
But the oven timer beeped, loud and insistent, breaking the spell.
Sam froze, chuckling nervously as he stepped back, and then his phone rang.
Mercedes smiled, smoothing her apron. "Saved by the bell," she teased, returning to the oven.
Sam checked his phone, answering briefly before hanging up. "That was my parents. They're about thirty minutes away."
"Perfect timing," Mercedes said, sliding the rolls out of the oven. "Go get dressed, and I'll help set the table."
Sam hesitated, scratching his neck. "Would you mind if we ate here? My place still smells like smoke."
"Here? You want me to stay in my room?"
"Why would you do that? After you cooked all this, I kinda hoped you would join us."
"Oh!" Mercedes said, surprised. "Well, yes, I can set the table and change."
"You are my hero, you know that?" Mercedes laughed. "Go get ready. I'll handle everything else."
Sam shot her a grateful smile before disappearing out the door.
As soon as he left, Mercedes hurried to her cabinet, pulled out her lace tablecloth, and spread it out, placing her crystal vase in the middle. Had she known this would happen, she would have bought things, but this would do. Then she headed to her room to change.
She chose a purple form-fitting dress that fell below her thighs, pairing it with gold heels that added just the right amount of glamour. Letting her hair down, she fluffed the curls, giving them volume.
Standing and looking at herself, she heard her phone beep.
Quinn: Are you cooking? I thought you were doing takeout.
Mercedes: ?
Quinn: Tina was with Kitty when she left to shop for you.
Mercedes: Yep. I needed a few things for dinner.
Quinn: Dinner? Uh-huh
Mercedes: Q, what do you want?
Quinn: Well, Tina also said Sam Evans is at your place. You didn't tell me you were hosting him for Thanksgiving.
Mercedes: I'm not. He needed help with dinner, so I stepped in.
Quinn: You didn't think to call me?
Mercedes: Because?
Quinn: He's my future husband, and I would have helped him.
Mercedes: Girl, you can't cook.
Quinn: I could have faked it!
Mercedes: Quinn, I have to go.
Quinn: Well. I want to swing by.
Mercedes: It's just dinner for Sam and his family. I'm sure you've got plans anyway.
Quinn: Plans? None as important as Sam. Besides, I've got experience with hosting dinners like this.
Mercedes: That's sweet of you, but I've handled it.
Quinn: Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose, but you've got a lot on your plate. Literally.
Mercedes: I'm good, Quinn. Thanks for checking in. Gotta go—lots to do. Happy Thanksgiving.
Quinn: ...Right. Happy Thanksgiving, Mercedes.
Putting Quinn on silent, Mercedes stepped into the Kitchen and froze seeing Sam staring at her, his expression unreadable.
"You look...beautiful," he said, his voice low and filled with admiration.
Mercedes smiled, her cheeks warming. "Thank you. You clean up well yourself."
Sam grinned, tugging at the cuffs of his black button-down shirt tucked neatly into his slacks. "Handsome enough to make my family proud?"
"More than enough," she assured him.
He took a step closer as if drawn by an invisible force, but before either could speak, a knock at the door interrupted them.
Mercedes glanced at Sam, then reluctantly went to answer. She opened the door to find Quinn standing there, her tall frame accentuated by a sparkling dress that clung to her like a second skin.
"Hey, Mercedes," Quinn said, her red-painted lips curling into a smile as her eyes flicked past her to Sam.