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Mr. and Mrs. Jones had not been too excited when Mercedes announced her plans to move to New York City with her friends after the bust that Los Angeles had been. It wasn’t that they didn’t believe in their daughter. They had known even since she was a little girl that she had big dreams and a voice to match. But she had never learned to take rejection or disappointment well. She didn’t know how to compromise and she was very much an ‘all or nothing’ type of person.
However, her flaws were also her strengths. She was driven and dedicated to what she loved. Her determination was something they wished their other child, their son Calvin, had. While Mercedes shot for the stars with every choice she made, Calvin was content to live a normal life in Ohio.
There were three parts to the agreement of Mercedes moving to New York. The first was that she would share a room with Tina while Blaine and Sam shared the other bedroom. They understood that she was an adult, that they all were, and when Mercedes assured them that there was nothing between her and Sam but nostalgic affection and friendship, they believed her. But as the people covering her quarter of her rent, they didn’t feel that it was out of line to make the stipulation. Mr. Chang and Ms. Cohen had helped them in that matter when they made a similar request of Tina.
The second was that she call one of them at least twice a week. This one wouldn’t be much of an issue as it was. Mercedes was very close to both of them and when she had been in California she called almost everyday. It was more of a request than a rule and it was one that she was happy to comply with.
The third was an easy one: moderation. They weren’t dumb. They knew that among her friends, at least one of them had to have a fake ID and neither of them were in the position to forbid her from drinking when they couldn’t actually monitor her behavior. She had rolled her eyes at that one but agreed to it without argument.
Soon after she was settled, they made plans to come visit her in February. Mrs. Jones had never been to New York and it was the soonest they were able to schedule a vacation at the same time with both of their work.
The week of their arrival, Mercedes is frantic to hide the fact that Sam in sleeping in her room and that their beds are pushed together. They all help her, Sam in particular, but the whole situation rubs him the wrong way.
As they shove a twin bed across the room, he asks with a grunt, “Your mom and dad know we’re a thing, right?” Mercedes pauses just long enough to confirm Sam’s suspicions. “Mercedes! Come on!”
“I know, I’m sorry! I... I didn’t know what to tell them and I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure that we were-- you know...”
“We were what? Engaged? Planning the wedding? Naming our third kid? Celebrating our golden anniversary?” He plops himself on one of the beds and pulls his legs up, crossing them.
“Sam, come on, don’t exaggerate. We’ve only been--whatever for a only a little while and--”
He huffs and brushes past her as he leaves the room. “Four months, Mercedes. Almost five. You’ve been lying to your parents about us, about our relationship, for almost five months.”
“Sam--” She follows after him but he goes out the window in Tina and Blaine’s room and on to the fire escape. Blaine is laying on his bed, nose deep in his notes for the stage design class he elected to take and instantly regretted. “Sam--”
“Give him some space,” he says, glancing up from the page. “Or let me talk to him.”
“It’s just...” she starts but she turns away and goes back to her room and lays on her single bed, missing the other and the boy that comes with it.
----------
“Hey, man.” Blaine crawls out on to the fire escape, two juice boxes in hand. He hands one to Sam and sits beside him. It’s freezing cold and neither of them are wearing anything heavier than sweatshirt. Blaine is grateful that he has started wearing socks again. His heavy winter boots require it. “You okay?”
“No.” He stabs the tiny straw into the box and sips it, staring at the building across the street. “I’m really not.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“Is she ashamed of me or something?” he blurts out, his warm breath puffing around them. “I mean, I know I’m not the smartest guy and I work in a comic book store and I’m not going to school or anything and I’m a broke artist but I’d like to think that I’m not a horrible person. Not someone that a girl would be ashamed of dat--whatever.”
“She’s not ashamed of you, she’s just... Mercedes is a lot like Kurt. They don’t do anything half-assed and they are both terrified of failing, even if they change their mind about what they are doing. They have to see things through to the end.”
“What’s your point?” Sam asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“My point is, I think this is the first time Mercedes is letting herself be spontaneous and not plan forty years down the road. She loves you. I know you love her. But I think it scares her a bit. Loving someone make you vulnerable and that is not one of the words I would use to describe Mercedes Jones.”
Sam chuckles at that. Mercedes did take a long time to warm up to him. Their whole relationship started out in secret partly because they didn’t want all the drama that came with his family situation, the Quinn-Santana debacle, and just New Directions in general. It was months before they were able to admit their feelings for each other, feelings that had been there for months. She had been so adamant about not wanting a boyfriend, not needing one. In the end, it had actually been Tina who had unknowingly pushed her into Sam’s arms. The girls and Kurt had a sleepover one night and Tina had said something to Mercedes about how it was okay to not want a relationship or a boyfriend but sometimes you fall for someone and you can’t help it and isn’t it better to try and fail than refuse it and never know? She had called him that night, covering her sniffles as best she could and asking if they could try.
“I don’t know, man,” Sam sighs. “I mean... Four months and she can’t bring herself to call me her boyfriend or say that we’re dating.”
“Do you consider her to be your girlfriend?”
“Duh. I’ve been calling her that since you guys Parent Trapped us.”
“We didn’t Parent Trap you,” Blaine huffs. “If anything we did that thing in that episode of Friends where Rachel and Monica steal their apartment back.” Sam slurps the last of the juice and smiles. Blaine hands him his unopened juice box and tosses the empty one through the open window. “Just... talk to her, Sam. She’s upset and stressed and I know she’s been working late in the studio the past few weeks. At least get on the same page as her. You both deserve to know where you stand with each other.”
There’s a long pause before Sam whispers, “I freaked her out with all the future talk, didn’t I?”
“I think so, yeah. And I don’t think it’s because she doesn’t want that with you. I think it’s because she’s afraid of how much she wants it with you. But again. Talk to her. I’m just speculating and--”
“Jesus Christ, it’s fucking cold in here!” Tina sticks her head out the window and glares at them, still in her winter coat. “I hate to be that person, but what the hell? Are we heating the whole neighborhood?”
They smile shit-eating grins up at her and she rolls her eyes. “Sorry, Mom,” they say in unison.
She rolls her eyes at them. “Shut the fuck up and get your asses inside. I’m actually home for dinner and I’m making something other than a Lean Cuisine. And I’m claiming the bathroom for at least an hour afterwords, got it?” She backs away from the window let them come inside. “Miss July said my legs were hairier than Snuffaluffagus’.
“Ew, Tay. Didn’t need to know that.” Blaine grimaces and flops onto the bed, returning to his notes.
“Blaine, the amount of stuff I know about your body goes way more in depth than body hair. Speaking of which,” she says, removing her coat and boots, “I’ve noticed you’ve stopped waxing your chest.”
Both boys turn bright red, Blaine from embarrassment, Sam from trying not to laugh.
“Shut up, Tina--Kurt--I--Shut up!” he sputters, pulling his covers over his head. They hear him say something but it is muffled by his pillow.
“What was that, Blainey? I didn’t catch it,” Tina teases, giving Sam a wink.
Blaine throws the covers back and pouts. “I said, Kurt likes my chest hair.”
Sam collapses on Blaine’s bed, laughing hysterically. “Oh my god, man... You only started waxing because you thought it would freak him out and he likes it?”
“You’d wax too if you were a freakishly hairy sixteen year old with a boyfriend with very particular tastes.”
Tina smiles and ruffles his hair. “Come on, let’s go get dinner together. I need real food.”
------
Sam and Mercedes do talk but it’s like trying to crack a code. He knows that she’s not being totally honest with him and she’s too overwhelmed with her parents’ impending visit for him to push it any further. They do make up, though, as well as they can and she agrees to talk again once her mom and dad are back in Ohio.
The Joneses fly in late on a Thursday night and go straight to their hotel downtown. Mercedes meets them there in the morning for breakfast and they spend Friday doing the winter touristy things that she and her friends neither want to nor can they afford to do. They swing by NYADA after Blaine and Tina are done with class and the five of them go out for dinner before Tina’s performance that night.
“How is Sam doing?” Mrs. Jones asks as the waiter fills her water glass. They’re eating a small restaurant near campus that has excellent burgers and comfort foods so Tina can carbo-load. Her role in the chorus is particularly dance heavy and she’s lost way more weight than she would prefer. While she appreciates how toned her legs and arms are now, her hips are much slimmer. Last week, she had to borrow a pair of Santana’s pants because hers were too loose. Walking down the streets of Bushwick with one hand reaching up under her coat to grip the waistband of her coat had not been fun.
“He’s good. Busy. He’s been prepping for a big craft show next week, he’s really nervous. It will be his first show since he moved here,” Blaine answers.
“He still doing that macaroni stuff?” her dad asks, a bit gruffly.
“Yes, and he’s also started working full-time at the comic book store.” Tina picks up a roll for the bread basket and slathers it with butter. “They really like him there.”
“Is he dating anyone?” Mrs. Jones asks as the waiter comes up to take their order. Mercedes sighs in relief, praying that her mother forgets the question.
“You should come to his show, it’s Monday and Tuesday night,” Blaine offers, sipping at his iced tea. “There will be other artists as well.”
“Well... We had planned on seeing a show with Mercedes Tuesday, so I guess Monday would work.” Mr. Jones.
“What are you seeing?” Tina asks excitedly. She loves going to see shows. Before rehearsals had started, she tried to get rush tickets at least every other weekend. She and Rachel had done that together but things had been tense between them since Tina had been cast with Rachel not even getting a callback. “A musical or a play?”
“Probably a musical. We’re leaving it up to Mercy,” her dad says smiling at her.
“Da-ad,” she says, blushing. Tina and Blaine giggle at her. She’d threatened them all with the pain of death if they called her Mercy.
Well, all except Sam.
------
Saturday morning found them all in a flurry of nervous excitement. Blaine had to give it to Mercedes; he didn’t know how she had managed to keep her parents away from their apartment until their second full day in the city but he wanted detailed instructions should his own parents decide to visit. The kitchen was scrubbed, the bathroom was spotless, the floors had been vacuumed and there was nothing to suggest that Sam was actually sharing a room with Mercedes and not Tina. The dirty gym socks on Blaine’s floor are a nice touch, Mercedes thinks as she gives the apartment a final look.
Her mother has insisted on making all of them a big lunch due to her being convinced that none of them are eating right. Santana, Rachel and Kurt are already there, with their dining room table in tow, and being lectured by Mercedes about how to behave. Well, Santana’s being lectured. Rachel and Kurt are just sitting there and taking it because Mercedes is clearly about to lose her mind.
“And when my father says grace, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make a huge deal about it, Rachel. And keep witty puns to yourself, Santana.”
“What, no rules for Kurt?” Santana spits, annoyed already. She’s only there because of the promise of home-cooked food that isn’t vegan.
Kurt scoffs at her. “I practically lived at Mercedes house sophomore and junior year. Her parents love me.”
Blaine sits on the edge of the couch and kisses his forehead. They look perfect, bowties and ascots perfectly in place, expertly tailored slacks and crisply ironed shirts. Santana gives them a sneer as she stands up, smoothing her skirt and going into the kitchen.
“I’m going to need at least a little something to take the edge off.”
“One drink, Santana!” Mercedes yells after her. Santana waves her off and they all hear the distinctive sound of a cork being pulled from a bottle. She glances at her phone to check and time and sighs, “Oh hell, pour me one too.”
-----------
The gallery that Sam is showing his work at was once an abandoned warehouse that had been refinished. Most of the other artists in the show work mostly with textiles or glass, showcasing giant knitted landscapes or handblown objects that look like creatures from Star Wars or something. A few work with paper, from tiny little paper cutting that reveal themselves to be intricate scenes when a light is shone thrown them and their shadow is cast on the wall to giant sculptures made out of recycled newspapers. One girl with bright blue hair is melting old records into cool shapes. And all he has is a bunch of macaroni art of his girlfriend who doesn’t want to be his girlfriend.
And said girlfriend’s parents are staring at it.
The one of her asleep on the couch.
The one of her writing in her notebook.
The one of her with her head thrown back, laughing.
The one of their hands when he comes up behind her and gives her a hug.
He gulps, shoving his hands in his pockets, praying for a hole to open up in the floor so he can make a quick escape. Maybe he could dive out the window. Or blend in with a group of people and disappear.
“Sam.” Mr. Jones clears his throat. He has a glass of the red wine in his hand and he’s staring at Sam’s favorite, the one of their hands. Mrs. Jones has her fingertips pressed to her lips as she studies it. “Is there anything you’d like to tell us?”
He wants to die. Where is Mercedes? She and Santana had gone to watch the glass blower but they had to be done by now. Why would she leave him alone, knowing that at any moment her mom and dad could round the corner? He gulps and stares at his shoes. A man pats his shoulder, complimenting his works and he raises his eyes as a reflex in thanks and accidentally meets Mr. Jones’ gaze.
“I asked you a question, son.”
“I’m in love with Mercedes, sir.”
“I know.” He smiles kindly at him.
Mrs. Jones asks, “How long?”
“I don’t know,” he sputters. “I never stopped caring about her. She’s... she’s... Mercedes is one of the best people I’ve ever met and I-- things aren’t perfect right now for us but I love her.”
“You what?” Mercedes voice is shocked and as he turns to face her, he sees her standing besides Santana with a panicked look on her face.
Shit. This is bad.
-------
“Have you lost your damn mind?” she says, slamming the front door behind them. The others are still at the gallery and her parents went back to their hotel. They hadn’t looked too pleased when she and Santana emerged from the glass artist. All she had to do was look at Sam’s face to know what had happened.
“Mercedes--”
“I mean, you could have just said that you’re going to do portraits of all of us but no, you had to say THAT--”
Sam rakes his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I said that I’m in love with you because I am and I don’t care if they know it! I’m not going to apologize for that!”
Mercedes freezes, hands shoved deep in the pockets of her coat. “You--you love me?”
“Yes,” he says, exasperated. “Isn’t it obvious? I mean... Damn, Mercedes! Your parents knew just from looking at my artwork. I could have lied and they would have known it. And I respect them, and you, too much to lie about that. I love you.” She still hasn’t moved but her eyes follow him as he paces about the room. “It’s fine if you aren’t there yet. But I’m not going to lie about it. Not to you,” he comes close to her, pulling her hat off her head and brushing her hair from her forehead. “Not to your parents. Not to anyone.”
“You mean it?” Her voice is soft and she leans into his touch. “Really?”
“I really mean it, Mercy.”
“You’re not going to disappear again?” her voice cracks and suddenly Sam realizes why she’s been shutting herself away from him. He had left with only a few days notice and they never really got to say goodbye. Then he came back and expected her to drop everything (Shane) and take him back. Look back, he regretted it. Every bit of it. How he left her and treated her relationship with Shane.
“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. My life is here with you.” He draws her hands from her pockets and kisses her palms. “I won’t leave.”
“And you really want--” she hiccups and he smiles, kissing her temple, “--you really want all those things? To be engaged to me, to marry me, and have a life with me?”
“Only if that’s what you want. And only when we’re both ready. But yes. I want all those things.”
Mercedes goes up on her tiptoes and softly kisses Sam’s lips. “I want those things too.” As she goes to wrap her arms around his shoulders, Sam tugs her coat off, kissing her again. They inch towards their bedroom, Sam’s coat and blazer hitting the hallway floor as she kicks off her shoes with a thud. His shirt and her dress fall to the ground as they shut their bedroom door.
----------
It is Mrs. Jones that brings it up the next day when they are back at the apartment. Sam has a morning shift so she’s alone with them and for the first time since Tina and Blaine pushed Sam’s mattress into her room, she’s honest with them. She sits in silence after admitting that she and Sam share a room, waiting for the axe to drop.
“Baby, why are you so scared?” Mrs. Jones asks, squeezing her hand.
“I don’t want to be a disappointment to you,” she admits. “I failed in L.A. and I’ve been working here for months and haven’t set foot in the studio yet-- Sam’s been this secret happiness for me. If I didn’t put a name to what we have, I couldn’t fail at it.”
“Since when have you been afraid to fail?” Her dad reached across the table, resting his hand over his wife’s. “When you want something, you go get it. It’s one of the things I admire most about you, Mercy. Whether you get it or go down in a blaze, you do it. No matter what. At least if you fail, you tried your best.”
“But what if I do fail?” she whispers.
Mrs. Jones chuckles, “Well, then you fail. And you right some killer songs about it.” Mr. Jones laughs with his wife. She gets up and kisses the top of her daughter’s head. “Now, we’re going to go out and get you two an actual double bed.”
Suddenly, Mercedes is trying to summon the same hole in the floor Sam was praying for the night before.