Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. Trust me, if I did, it'd be very different.

A/N: Due to the fantastic spoilers/awesome feedback I got on When The Ball Drops, I've been inspired to write this future!samcedes fic. I have a feeling it's gonna be a long-term thing. Enjoy!

P.S. - Flashbacks are italicized.

"What'll it be?" the petite bartender shot an inquisitive smile at the blond man sitting in front of her, one that contained the slightest tinge of flirtation.

Sam Evans glanced up from his smartphone, "Dirty martini, very dry, extra olives," he ordered in an even tone. Turning his attention back to the message he was typing out on the touchscreen, he sensed the disappointment the bartender felt at his nonchalant response. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking into a knowing smile. If he was right, and he usually was, he was in for a bit of a show.

He watched as the red headed bartender made a show of reaching for the top shelf liquor, arching her back and sticking out her ass. And there was definitely some shimmying as she shook the cocktail. She leaned over and gave him a quite a smile and a view as she slid the drink to him. Sam paid for the drink, and then picked it up and took a large sip, smirking into his glass.

Popping one of the olives into his mouth, he looked down at the napkin that served as his coaster, Sam saw that she had scrawled her name, number and a message across one of the corners- "just in case you're into some activities even dirtier than that martini" he read. He looked up to find the young bartender standing a couple yards away, her eyes passing over his body with a sultry gaze. "Heather, is it?" he inquired coolly.

"It is," she replied crossing over to him, an extra sway in her slim hips, "and you are?"

"Interested." he said, his hand lightly running over the napkin. He leaned in close to whisper in her ear, "Very interested."

A mischievous smile played across her small pink lips. "Is that so?" she asked, leaning back slightly and meeting his green eyes with her blue ones. "I get off at 8, I'll be here…waiting."

Pulling a pen from his jacket pocket, Sam jotted down a quick note on the opposite corner of the napkin, bent down to grab his carry-on, and finished his drink in one swallow. Spearing the remaining two olives with a toothpick, he set the empty glass down on the napkin, and slid it over to her. "Perfect. And that's where I'll be." He gave her a heart-melting smile, and walked away, munching on the alcohol soaked olives.

She watched him walk away for a few seconds, that mischievous smile turning into a grin before picking up the napkin. Her face fell as she read it, and she looked up with a confused frown. "Wait!" she called after him, "isn't this in California? And who the hell is Mercedes?"

Sam had just sat down with his Sunday morning cup of coffee when his cell phone rang from the other room. Rushing to answer it, he spilled some of the scalding brew on his hand.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" he mumbled as he fanned his hand to soothe the burn and half ran to his bedroom. Spotting the phone on his bed, he dove for it and answered right before it rolled to voicemail, "Hello?"

"Hey man!"

"Mike! What's up dude? I was actually gonna call you this afternoon. We gotta decide on a date for that guys weekend in Vegas. Puck and the others emailed me their preferences, and it's looking like it's gonna be the first week of March."

"Hmm…two things. One, is there any way it can be in the first week of May? And two, do you mind planning my bachelor party for one of those nights?" Sam could almost hear Mike grinning into the phone.

"W-Wait…what? Bachelor party?" Sam's eyes widened with realization, and his jaw hit the floor, "That means- you and Tina…"

Mike chuckled brightly, "Yeah. You know, it's been over seven years, and I still can't go seven minutes without her. Easiest and best decision I've made since we got together. I popped the question yesterday at dinner after the Arctic Monkeys show, and she said yes!"

Sam broke out in a dopey grin and ran his hands through his hair, "That's fantastic, man. I am so happy for you two. And I'd love to plan your party, as long as you don't mind me getting a little help from Puckerman. It'd be an honor."

"I don't mind at all. Just make sure you're in charge. After all, planning the bachelor party is one of the best man's most important duties."

"You mean I…"

"Yes you idiot," Mike snorted, "don't get all coy on me. Picking the best man and maid of honor was a no-brainer. You and Mercedes have been our best friends since high school."

Sam sat back on his bed and went silent for a moment before blowing out a breath as if it had been knocked out of him.

"Sam, are you there? Look, we figured things between you two were…strange. But-"

"No, it's not a problem. It's you guys' day, and things aren't really weird…" Sam was lying through his teeth.

"Great! I knew you'd come through for us."

Sam sat at the gate, waiting for the call for first class passengers to board; he figured he had about half an hour if there weren't any delays. Feeling the pleasant warmth of the drink setting in, he pulled out his laptop to take care of a few last minute emails, freeing him up for the entire wedding weekend. It was unusual for him to be out of the office two weekends in a row, but Mike and Tina were important to him. There was little else he could justify spending that much valuable time away from his company for. Running a startup was grueling and time-consuming, but he loved his job. He loved being able to publish his talented peers work; and all that time he spent developing his web comic and editing his friends' graphic novels hadn't gone to waste.

Web publishing was the big thing nowadays, and he caught the wave at exactly the right moment, coasting to a promising start. His online publishing startup had attracted the attention of many bigger companies, wanting to buy him out- make him as rich as Zuckerberg, almost. But Sam wanted to do things on his own terms, and holding out had paid off- he was working out deals with quite a few established, popular web artists, graphic novelists, and the like- and almost all of them had come to him. Signing even half of the pool he was entertaining meant he would double the company's value in the next six months.

His phone buzzed, alerting him to the arrival of a text message. It was from Stevie: a picture of him in a suit and Stacey in a soft purple dress, both holding up their diplomas. It killed him that he had to miss their eighth grade graduation, but Mike and Tina were only getting married once, and he swore by every deity that he wouldn't miss their high school graduation. He replied, saying how wonderful they looked and how proud of them he was. Sam hated that he had missed so much of their lives, but if he hadn't gone away to school, who knows what would have happened? He had not taken a huge risk and even bigger loan to go to the Rhode Island School of Design, he might not have started this business from his dorm room. But he had, and it took off; now the loan was paid in full. He had even started a college fund for Stevie and Stacey.

"Flight 7568 to Sacramento is now boarding first-class passengers, first class passengers please proceed to gate 7A," blared the announcement. Sam put away his laptop, got his boarding pass ready, and stepped into line. Soon the plane was all boarded, and they ascended after the short safety presentation. Settling in for the five hour flight, he pulled out a neck pillow and his favorite pair of noise cancelling headphones, and plugged them into his iPhone. Leaning back into the cushy chair, he pressed play and shook the device to shuffle the songs- he was not in the mood for any one song in particular.

A sweet smile played across his lips as the opening lines filled his ears, "summer lovin' had me a blast…" Sam took a sip of his complimentary champagne, closed his eyes, and let nostalgic dreams fill his head for the remainder of the flight.

As the last chord faded out, the air was filled with enthusiastic applause and shouts. "Thank you Chicago! You've been so wonderful, have a great night!" Mercedes Jones shouted, beaming into the crowd with teary eyes. After a blowing a few kisses into the audience, she waved goodbye and headed backstage on wobbly legs. Putting her guitar into its case, she settled into the couch in her dressing room and let out a shaky breath. Dozens of performances later, she still felt the same overwhelming rush of adrenaline, excitement, and slight disbelief each and every night.

Mercedes lovingly stroked the weathered case, tracing her fingers over the stickers that announced all the new places to which she had traveled. She felt incredibly blessed to be living the life she was living. Of course she had big dreams for herself- she always had. But she knew that building a career as an established musician was not an easy task- during her years at Berklee, she had steeled herself for years of rejected demos, playing to handfuls of people, and working thankless assistant jobs to "break into the business." But all of that had changed in one night, because of a hankering for a pint. Mercedes gently shook her head and smiled to herself as she fondly recalled that fateful evening.

She had participated in a study abroad program in London during the first semester of her senior year. She fell in love with the city during those few months- there was something so romantic about the architecture, the accents, even the rain. There was small pub on the path from the conservatory to her flat where she often stopped for dinner or a drink. They often had live music in the evenings- the talent ranged from complete amateurs to conservatory students to mildly popular local acts.

One unusually balmy night, Mercedes was walking home from practice and decided, on a whim, to stop in for a quick drink. She found the cozy spot busier than usual, and decided to keep her guitar close- just in case. After a few minutes, she found a seat, cased guitar safely between her legs and the wood of the bar. She smiled when she saw that her favorite bartender was in, and then slightly blushed. Nathan was a bi-racial British babe- dark curly hair, deeply tanned skin, sturdy build, bright blue eyes, and a devastating smile. The baby blues in question spotted her from across the bar, and Nathan made his way over.

"Hello, Mercy. What'll it be, love?" he asked, leaning slightly forward.

"Hey you. You're the expert, whatever draft you recommend. Your taste is impeccable…" Mercedes said with a playful smile. She watched as Nathan poured her a pint of something that looked golden, frothy, and delicious. Taking a deep sip, she learned that it was even better than it looked. "This is your best pick yet, darlin'."

"Thanks!" suddenly, a impish grin appeared on his handsome face, "I'll tell you what- if you play tonight, it's on the house. I see you lugging that guitar in here all the time, but you've never played, not once." He raised an eyebrow, "Unless of course you happen to be scared…"

"Oh honey child," Mercedes downed her pint and challenged his gaze, "that word isn't even in my vocabulary. Watch me." She grabbed her guitar and strode up to the stage, waiting for the current act to vacate her space. Taking her guitar out of the case, she stepped up to a smattering of applause and a few whistles. She introduced herself, and after quickly tuning the instrument, she closed her eyes and crooned a soulful, unique rendition of "Crazy For You" by Adele. She opened her eyes to a round of applause that was curiously loud given the number of patrons. Mercedes thanked them for listening, and stepped off stage where a man was waiting for her.

"You were fantastic, just brilliant!" he praised her in a gravelly voice. "Do you by any chance write your own music?"

"I do! I attend the Berklee College of Music in the states," said a flattered Mercedes, "I am here at the conservatory studying abroad. I hope to pour my soul out to crowds a bit larger than this one, someday…" she chuckled.

"I'm going to assume you have a demo," he replied with a bemused expression, "here's my card. If you sing your own songs with half as much heart and skill, I might have just the opportunity you're looking for." He handed her his card, and left the shocked girl glued to her spot.

Mercedes hailed a cab outside the hall, laughing quietly to herself as she remembered how Nathan had to shake her out of her stupor. That man had been one of the people managing Adele's upcoming tour. He had loved her work, and less than two weeks after graduation, she was opening for Adele Adkins herself. That in and of itself would have been a huge blessing, but when the artist's label offered her a development deal at the end of the tour, she was bowled over. So now she was working on her first album, while playing the occasional show to keep herself sharp.

Tipping her cabbie, she greeted the doorman warmly as she headed into her building. After checking her mail, she punched the button for the 12th floor, sorting through her mail during the short ride. Fishing her keys out of her purse, she let herself into the apartment. Mercedes loved her cozy little flat. As her luck would have it, it belonged to the niece of one of the execs at her label who moved permanently to New York, and he let her rent it for an extremely reasonable price. Dropping her mail in a basket by the door, she pulled one of her larger suitcases out of the storage closet and proceeded to begin packing. A couple of hours later, she was almost finished- there was just one more piece she needed. Moving to her walk in closet, she headed to the back and selected a dress.

Sitting on her bed she stroked the charcoal gown. It was beautiful- silky, long and flowing with intricate silver beaded bodice that flowed into one shoulder. Mercedes didn't know how, but Tina had hit the nail on the head- she couldn't have picked a more perfect dress if she had tried. She frowned as she remembered there was no way she could have tried. At the time that Tina had called to tell her the wonderful news, she was on tour and busy beyond belief; by the time she was able to help out, almost all the details had been taken care of, including the bridesmaids' dresses. She knew that Tina understood, but she still felt like a terrible friend.

Not that she hadn't made up for it, or at least tried to. Mercedes had arranged the most scandalous, fabulous bachelorette weekend. It was filled with pole dancing classes, delicious drinks, karaoke, great food, wonderful company, and a few Gaga tickets that the label had scored her, complete with backstage passes. She laughed as she remembered how Tina and the girls had almost passed out when she told them- even Santana could barely utter a "Damn, girl gots the hookup." The weekend was filled with memories they would cherish (and blush about) for decades to come.

Zipping her maid of honor dress in a garment bag, she picked up all of her bags and put them by the door. Mercedes triple checked her purse for her ticket, ID, and other necessities before getting ready for bed. After winding down with some yoga, she slipped into her favorite nightie and completed her pre-bed ritual. However, once she was in bed, Mercedes found that falling asleep was another problem entirely. Her mind wandered back to the conversation where Tina had given her the good news.

"Oh my GOD, Tina that is amazing!" she was practically bouncing around backstage during the sound check, "Ahhhh! I knew it. He was looking through your jewelry, you know. Last month, when I was in town and I came to see you guys. I went to borrow some hand cream, and he was rifling through your rings, no doubt to get the size."

"He would," Tina began warmly, "Mike's just that kind of guy, you know? He wants to keep things fresh and surprise me." She paused for a moment before starting again, "Cede, I- we want to ask you something-"

"YES!" she shouted as the crew shot her funny looks. She heard Tina laugh heartily on the other end of the line.

"Still the same girl, a step ahead of everyone. I'm glad you're so excited to be my maid of honor. I'm sure Sam squealed like a girl when Mike asked him earlier today."

"Oh." Mercedes slid down the wall she was leaning against, and sat on the floor.

"Oh no, honey… it's not going to bother you is it-"

"No! Why would you even think that?" she said hurriedly. "It's your day, and it is going to be wonderful. Don't think twice about it."

Mercedes turned for what seemed like the hundredth time and let out an exasperated sigh. She meant what she said; nothing would get in the way of Tina's perfect day, she would play nice, be polite and distant- her rocky history with the dork be damned. But as she gazed at the silhouette of her guitar in the darkness and felt that familiar pang, she couldn't deny something; not even to herself. Not letting that history interfere with her slumber was a battle she was currently losing.

The song "Crazy For You" belongs to Adele.

How are you guys feeling the backstory/buildup? They've made quite the success of themselves, no? I would really love to hear what you love/don't love about it so far, so please review it!

Thanks!

Em