Chapter One

A/N: This was originally a one-shot that I wrote under "Two Simple Words," and I received a lot of messages about making it a full story. This is just a republishing of the first chapter with a few minor edits. The second chapter's coming up directly. Please note, I have no idea what I'm doing, but your kind words have tricked me into having self-confidence. So, here it goes...

She wanted to flirt with him. She just needed one good phrase. One good phrase to get his attention. One good phrase to let him know that she wasn't messing around. That she wanted him.

She could've sworn he was flirting with her last week. She personally walked over to his table with the diner's last slice of cherry cheesecake and a can of whipped cream. His mohawked friend kept arguing with him about which superhero had the better cape, and with so much commotion, their lunches were left cold.

She sashayed her way towards their table, wanting him to watch her spray the dollop of whipped cream on the dessert. Their conversation seemed intense, so she figured that would bring him a smile. The mohawked gentleman, whom she learned from his credit card was Noah Puckerman, always spoke for the both of them. But this time, her blond crush mouthed a "Thank you." She was so shocked that he even noticed her that she was struck mute for a moment, even slightly losing her balance when she notice that he winked. Those green eyes and pouty smirk were going to be the death of her.

Every Tuesday, he and Noah would come in and sit in the same tiny blue booth in the back of the Lima Grill; her section. She longed for the days of the classic diner uniform of the short dress with her name stitched above the breast. Those black jeans and polo shirt were doing nothing for her curvaceous figure.

This time, she swayed over toward the two men with a put upon fierceness, dessert in tow. She made it in time for the tail end of their conversation and Noah's proclamation, "Even if you were Wolverine, you couldn't possibly have the 'nads to fight people with your blades. You'd probably just use 'em to make the kids' sandwiches and shit."

The young waitress placed the cheesecake in front of the blond with a glowing smile plastered on her face. "Here you go. It's our seasonal favorite, pumpkin."

"We didn't order this, babe." Noah gripped.

"I know. It's on the house." She retorted.

Without pause, Noah exclaimed with delight, "Sweet! Free food," and dived his fork into the blond's pumpkin cheesecake.

The girl's face faltered, something that did not go unnoticed by the plump-lipped young man, equally disappointed in his friend's greediness. He mouthed a "Thank you" her way. The waitress' brown doe-eyes brightened, and she stilled herself to think of the correct response. She finally remembered, and with great enthusiasm, motioned her hands to sign, "You're welcome." She caught the giant smile that stretched across his ample lips at her actions and figured she would quit while she was ahead; spinning on her heels and heading back towards the front counter. She facepalmed herself when she had to return to his table. Ruining her killer exit, she handed Noah the bill from her front apron pocket. "You can just take care of that when you're ready."

She lowered her head as she walked away, but this time she could feel a pair of eyes following her as she went to towel down the dessert display. At that moment she was grateful her chocolate skin would adequately mask the blush creeping up into her cheeks.

"Do you have change for a twenty?" She heard the intoned voice.

She looked up from wiping down the counter. "I beg your pardon?" She raised her head. "Oh." It was him.

"I was gonna leave this as a tip, but my friend Puck said that was way too much for just having gravy fries."

"Well, your friend's a dick," she muttered.

"He's more of an asshole, but yeah."

She grimaced in embarrassment, quickly realizing he understood her. "Shit." She recalled the sign for "Sorry" and performed it repeatedly. "I'm so so so sorry. I didn't know you could hear me."

He shook his head. "I can read your lips."

She was disappointed in her obliviousness, though it never registered with her crush across the counter.

"Do you know ASL?" Sam signed, already knowing the answer.

"'Do I…'" She translated out loud to herself. "'Do I… know… A…S…L?' No! No. I—I'm learning though."

"Why? Is your boyfriend deaf?" He inquired.

She smiled at his forwardness. "No. Well, I don't have a boyfriend."

Without missing a beat, "I'm Sam. Sam, I am." He offered his hand over the counter, which she hungrily accepted. She used her other hand to point to her tilted name badge, "Mercedes." He mouthed her name, and she nodded in affirmation.

"You're off tomorrow, right?"

Mercedes furrowed her brow in confusion. Realizing her concern, Sam answered himself, "Puck and I came here on a Wednesday and you weren't in your section."

"Oh. Then, yes." She couldn't believe he remembered her schedule or her section.

"Well, if you're free, maybe you could come by my studio. There's always pizza… and me. I'll be there all day."

Overcoming her initial dismay, the petite waitress grinned and spelled out a quick "O.K." with her free hand. A disarmingly sweet lopsided grin broadcasted his elation.

"Great! I'll see you tomorrow." Sam slid over the restaurant bill and the twenty dollars. As Mercedes went to get change, he stopped her with a simple headshake. He walked towards the door where Noah, or "Puck" as Mercedes just learned, waited impatiently.

Realizing he hadn't given her an address, Mercedes shouted rather uselessly at Sam's oblivious back as it walked out of the door. The swift feeling of defeat was eclipsed by the joy of a four hundred percent tip on a basket of gravy fries. She noticed a small business card resting on top of the bill with a zonked-out zombie illustrated on the front. She flipped it over to see "Sam Evans, Graphic Artist" and his address.

The next day, when she pulled up to the address, Mercedes was certain she was at the wrong place. It was a warehouse on the edge of Lima, that she was sure as a teenager she and a few friends had attacked with empty beer bottles. She was caught between exhilaration and trepidation. She'd spent most of the night and morning practicing phrases that she might have to use, and a good two hours settling on a pair of tight jeans and blouse that persistently fell off of her shoulder. With unsteady legs, Mercedes reached the front door and wondered how this was going to work. Her first instinct was to knock, and afterwards felt like an idiot. She noticed the doorbell, figured what the hell, and rang it. To her surprise the lights in the surrounding windows flickered, and before she could catch her bearings, the door swung open.

"I can't believe you knocked." Sam laughed.

Mercedes would be annoyed if it weren't for the sight of the handsome blond in his muscle-hugging henley. He had clearly watched her through the window during her anxiety-ridden trek from her car to the door. Sam grabbed her hand, and yanked her into the building. It was sparse and massive, with boxes stacked everywhere and a printing press at its centerpiece. Mercedes was immediately drawn to the press, wanting to touch it and press buttons like a little kid would. She turned to him in excitement, "What do you do?"

Sam squinted his eyes and frowned his lips. "Are you talking to me? Are you talking to me?"

Mercedes looked perplexed.

"Robert De Niro." Sam informed her, only to be met with a silly "No."

"Alright, we self-publish our own comic books. Puck and myself and a few of our friends. And we get 'em into stores across the state."

"This may be the may be the coolest thing I've ever seen."

"You wanna print something out?"

Mercedes couldn't contain the exuberant squeal that escaped her mouth, clapping and jumping in glee. She composed herself and replied with a simple nod of her fist in affirmation. Sam was more than pleased with her response, and led her to the front of the machine.

"There's already something in the there. Just press the buttons."

Mercedes looked up to make sure she was doing it properly. Sam nodded her towards the correct set of buttons. She pressed them and the machine came alive. And just as anticlimactically turned off, sputtering out a single sheet of paper. She leapt towards it, her mouth agape in astonishment. "What is this?" She lifted and examined the page.

"The cover for our latest issue."

"Mercedes the Merciful," she read. Sprawled before her was an intense drawing of Mercedes in a ripped and revealing version of her waitress uniform, using her serving tray to slide off the head of a zombie patron. She quickly turned to him and beamed. "This is amazing," she signed. She ran to him and kissed his cheek. "No one's ever done something like this for me before." Thinking she overstepped with the peck, Mercedes paced back and resolved everything with "You're very talented."

"So are you," Sam replied. Mercedes scoffed.

"You just… you've got this inner light. The way you are with people. With your customers. They're all just so happy to see you. Plus, you always have my order memorized."

"That's because you alternate between the same three appetizers. I'm not talented. You're just predictable."

Sam motioned around the room. "Is this predictable?"

"No. It's absolutely wonderful," she said with zero enthusiasm.

"Fine, then. So what is your talent?" Sam probed.

An ironic chuckle crept out in Mercedes' response. "Singing. I can sing."

"I bet you're amazing."

Refusing all modesty, "Yeah. I'm pretty good."

Sam folded his arms. "Sing me something."

"I can't sing you a song. I mean, I could but…"

"Just sing me a fucking song! Please." Sam intoned with that deadly smirk.

"So rude." Sam shrugged. "Fine." Mercedes cleared her throat and sighed, allowing the first song in her head to roll off of her tongue.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

So please don't take my sunshine away.

Sam applauded wildly. "The most awesome song I've never heard. Now let's eat." He walked away, leaving Mercedes to hurry behind him and catch up. Towards the back of the warehouse was a room set aside. A small apartment, homey and palatial. On a kitchen island were stacks of empty pizza boxes.

"I wasn't lying about the pizza."

Sam motioned for her to have a seat on the couch. She obliged.

"You never answered my question," Sam remembered.

"What?"

"Why are you learning sign language?" He asked, sitting dangerously close to her.

Mercedes deflected, "So I can be my own interpreter at all of those sold-out bus station performances."

"Do you want me to teach you a few signs?"

She nodded, "Sure."

"Alright. Just do what I do. Okay?" Sam's long pale fingers curved into a few basic signals. Mercedes watched him diligently and slowly replicated his movements over and over again.

Sam finally ascribed the meaning to each sign. "Can. I. Kiss. You?"

Mercedes mindlessly repeated aloud, performing the corresponding signs. "Can. I. Kiss. You?"

"Of course," Sam replied. And before she knew it, one of the hands she was watching so closely clasped the back of her neck and pressed her forward into a tender kiss. He sucked in his lips to taste the gloss that had transferred from hers.

"You ass." She smiled and pushed herself into another kiss that landed Sam on his back, wedging him between the cushions. His hands roamed her back, cautious not to grip the areas that he longed for. However, Mercedes was not as mindful. Consuming his plush, pink pout, she decided to retreat and allow her tongue to travel down his neck. Sam swiped his kissing partner's hair to the side for better access to her shoulder, which he nipped and sealed with a precious lick. She moaned in appreciation of Sam's gradually immodest hands cupping her breasts. She kissed his cheek, pecking her way to the tip of his ear, which she greeted with a gentle tug of her teeth. Licking his lobe, Mercedes paused at the taste of hard plastic.

"Is that a hearing aid?" Mercedes asked. Sam bobbed his head.

Her curiosity flourished, along with surprise. "Can… can you hear me?"

"I can hear echoes mostly. Sirens sometimes. Your voice is… faint. But it's lovely."

"You don't wear it at the diner, when you're with Puck."

"Would you wanna hear Puck?"

Mercedes smiled and shook her head.

"I have a system," Sam divulged.

"What kind of system?"

"If you like what I'm doing, pat my back. I mean, literally, pat me on the back. If you don't or you want me to stop, you just grab my hands. Whatever you want, I'll do. Okay?"

Processing what he said, Mercedes slowly nodded. "O—O—Okay." She was taken aback by his instructions and the dark look in his peridot eyes. If only he knew, whatever he wanted she would do. Sam bit his bottom lip, a small gesture to control his huge impulse.

"Kiss me," Mercedes signed more confident than before. He sprung at her orders, devouring any lip gloss that had carelessly remained on her pillowy lips. A hand returned to their cushioned spot cupping her breast. Sam seized when she grabbed his hand.

"I'm sorry," He demurred.

Mercedes coyly shook her head and placed his hand on the button of her jeans. She licked at his lips until they allowed her entry, as Sam's hands fiddled with her jeans until they allowed his. Sam dropped to the floor on his knees, pulling her pant legs down with him. She wiggled the rest of her way out, and pulled his face back to hers, unable to get enough of his kisses. Only breaking the kiss to liberate each other of their shirts. Mercedes gleamed at his taut, muscular torso, and allowed her hands to self-consciously trail down his abs. This time, she was met with a tug of the wrist, as Sam lowered her small umber fingers to the fly of his jeans.

He gestured, "I want you." A set of signs that Mercedes understood completely. In fact, it was the first phrase she had taught herself. And with that, she hastily took Sam out of his jeans and boxer briefs. His thick, hard member was even more impressive than the printing press. She didn't know where to begin, and decided upon a soft, measured kiss to his tip. She was taken aback when he pulled away from her, only to watch him push back the apple crates he called a coffee table. Before she could ask, Sam grabbed her by her expansive hips and dragged her onto his lap on the surface rug. She gripped his shoulders for leverage to assist him in taking off her boy shorts.

"This is actually happening!" played continually in her mind in all exclamation points, when Sam laid her down on the floor; having her wet center straddle his stomach. He gave her ass a hearty smack, shocking herself when she whimpered in delight. Sam squeezed her luscious, pliable thighs as a gesture to move farther up his body. His mouth, the destination.

"Wait." Mercedes thought for a moment and reversed her position, giving Sam a glorious view of the behind that he'd spent months staring at in a daze, as it walked away to place his order. He situated her drenched netherlips atop his face. The first taste propelled his preejaculate, which Mercedes went to work devouring. Each stride Mercedes attempted was thwarted by Sam and his magical tongue. Her focus was nonexistent, and Mercedes quickly realized Sam wanted it that way. She was determined to fight off that familiar build-up in her abdomen and took him into her mouth. She reluctantly had to release his cock at the feeling of him sucking on her clit. She couldn't very well scream his name with her mouth full.

"Fuck, Sam!" She turned her head, trying to figure out how to pat him on the back. He placed a death grip on her hips as she spasmed. Her cream was all the pat on the back he needed.

Sam unwillingly let her crawl off of him. Mercedes tried to collect herself, but made the mistake of glimpsing that adorable face with his disheveled golden locks, lustful eyes and cum-drenched chin.

Mercedes panted, "Where's your bed?"

Sam got off of the floor. He held out his hand and helped her up. Lacing his fingers with hers, he led her to the bed.

"I'll be right back." He kissed their joined hands. Sam took out his hearing aids and placed them on his nightstand, before heading to the bathroom.

Mercedes swam in the nice, cool sheets, tempering her body, which was on fire from the mere thought of Sam's touch. She closed her eyes, thinking of all those nights her body would remain restless until imaginings of his lips and his touch lulled her to sleep. The way her heart would leap at the realization of a Tuesday morning. His kindness. His humor. His everything. Her crush had morphed into something else, not just lust.

She was shaken out of her thoughts by a set of arms wrapping themselves around her full waist, and the gentle kisses on her back. She savored this moment of closeness, leaning back into his snuggle. He nibbled her neck.

"Are you ready for me, beautiful?" Sam taunted. Mercedes looked behind her and gave him a tempestuous nod.

Sam lifted her chin and gave her a passionate kiss, as he hoisted her leg and took her from behind. Mercedes gasped at the fullness, clenching her fists to contain herself.

After a few moments of adjustment, he asked, "You want me to keep going?" She nodded her fist, and with that he slowly drove in and out of her. With each pump, Mercedes felt ascension. She latched her lips onto his neck for him to feel the vibrations of her grateful moans. She moved to his rhythm, hinting for him to go faster, and he did.

Within moments, Sam had her with her ass in the air and her face driving into the pillows. That inescapable feeling of contentment filled the room, and then she heard him. "You feel so good, Mercedes. So fucking good."

He said her name.

That simple act and she came undone. She felt free. She felt bliss. She felt… love. Maybe it was too soon, but she felt it.

Her orgasm crashed into her with an overjoyed, "Oh god, Sam! I love you! I love you so much!" She shut her eyes, mortified at her own emotional revelation, and yet somewhat relieved that his hearing aids were on the nightstand.

Sam choked out his peak, kissing up and down her spine. He carefully pulled himself out of her, and she already missed his touch. He kissed the corner of her ear and breathed, "I love you, too."

Mercedes' eyes flew open to see the hearing aids no longer on the nightstand. She looked up at Sam and that smirk, and muttered to herself, "Well son of a bitch." She smiled and grabbed him for a kiss, refusing to ever let him go.