A request from TheGoldenViolet, who has made me fall in love with her depiction of Blaincedes. I hope I did this justice and that you enjoy(:

Check out TheGoldenViolet's works as well; you shan't be disappointed!

Mercedes is sure that enough alcohol triggers some sort of teleporting mechanism in the body, because what seemed like seconds ago she was sitting at the bar of the hotel's reception hall watching her ex-fiancé and best friend have their first dance while drinking away the envious burning in the pit of her stomach, and now she stood against her room door, breathing heavily at the ministrations of an unlikely companion.

Now the burning was replaced by a pooling heat as the only person who really knew how she felt pressed himself further against her backside, nipping and kissing Mercedes' neck impatiently as she finally managed to swipe the key and stumble inside with a gasp when he squeezed her backside.

She was past buzzed – wasted was more like it, and that along with his roaming hands and hot, alcohol-laced breath on her throat, collar-bone, the heaving swell of her breasts drew Mercedes to wit's end and a guttural moan escaped her throat.

Turning to face him, she helped him shrug out of the black tuxedo jacket and loose his shirttails while he fiddled with the hem of her pastel bridesmaid dress, never letting up his assault of her body, before raking his fingers back up to caress her curves, teasing her and enjoying his dominance. Mercedes made quick work of unbuttoning his white shirt, satisfied when she was able to stroke the incisions of his six-pack and muscle of his biceps with her small hands, turning the tables.

She started kissing his chin and working her way from his neck to his firm chest, smirking when he gasped in surprise at her counterattack. Mercedes continued downwards, licking and biting lightly at the taut, tanned skin of his abdominals. When she reached the tempting v-curve that plunged into the waist of his black slacks, he pulled her up quickly and practically tossed her onto the bed in the room's center.

Mercedes didn't have time to think about what he'd done before he pushed his way between her legs, hovering over her with his darkened eyes lusty and bright. Her dress was hitched up her thighs and she held onto his arms for dear life as he ground himself against her. He was hot and she was on fire, both of them too far gone to start thinking about consequences. She began to arch herself into him, following his rhythm

He came down, resting his forehead against hers, their breathing haggard as their excitement rose. Mercedes breathed him in; his cologne, the smell of whiskey, his scent, wanting to absorb only this momentary thrill to drown the dull ache of heartbreak.

As they flowed together he took the time to pull her already falling dress straps hastily down her arms, exposing her overflowing strapless bra. The cold of the room triggered Goosebumps along her glistening skin, shocking her senses; it was sobering.

"Sa– Blaine," she corrected herself, pushing against him. "Blaine, stop." He grunted, not letting up. She raised her voice, fully snapping out of her own martini-induced haze, and shoved him of. "Dammit, stop Blaine!"

"Shit!" he cursed, quickly getting up and walking a bit from the bed, running a hand through his mussed black hair as he blinked up at the ceiling. The contours of his toned back flexed with his movement.

Mercedes made quick work of readjusting her dress and smoothing her hair, tears threatening to spill from her brown eyes. She fidgeted, looking down at her lap. Blaine turned to face her walking over and dropping to his knees in front of her, looking up at her with his own glistening

"God, I'm sorry Mercedes. I," he swallowed deep, resting his elbows on either side of her thighs on the bed, looking down. She felt his shudder as he let out a ragged breath. "I just…" he let out a muffled cry against her lap.

"I know. Trust me, I know," she soothed as she let her own tears fall and ran her hands along his dark head. He was soaking her dress but she didn't mind, especially since she was showering his hair. Mercedes had no idea how long they sniffled and hiccupped and bawled on the edge of the bed until an epiphany struck her:

She had been moments away from sleeping with the ex of her gay ex-best friend, who'd just married her suddenly gay ex-fiancé. What Mercedes couldn't fathom is why it took her so long to crack; heck, she agreed to be a bridesmaid (Rachel Hudson had been granted the role of matron of honor)!

What began as a soft chuckle progressed into a booming laugh that startled the man in front of her. He looked up at her absurdly amused expression and, hesitantly at first, joined in. It was crazy, these two heartbroken people, laughing like maniacs with salty tears staining their flushed cheeks.

Mercedes wiped her eyes. "I must look a hot mess, judging by your face," she teased.

"Hey! It costs a lot of money to look this cheap," he returned, leaning back onto his heels, and Mercedes missed his warmth. "I guess I should go, huh," he sighed, standing up to locate his missing shirt.

"No!" she said a little too enthusiastically, standing as well. "I mean, we're both still a little buzzed and I don't want you to wonder off anywhere. Besides," she said, quieter, "I really don't want to be alone right now."

He looked at her while he buttoned his shirt, awe etched across his features, before offering her a small smile. "Truth is, I don't either."

Her face lit up a bit and she scooted back to sit against the headboard, patting the space beside her while she switched on the light and searched the nightstand for the television remote. He was wary, apparently still miffed that they'd almost had sex, but obliged and sat down on the bed with her, though not as close as she'd suggested. It didn't really matter to Mercedes; she was just glad to have his company.

With the best viewing choice being a rerun of Three's Company, the two settled into a comfortable silence. Jack, Janet, and Chrissy's bickering filled the room. Mercedes was letting herself get into the show when she heard Blaine's low voice beside her.

"What did I do wrong?" She wasn't really surprised; she'd asked herself the same question for months now. Mercedes gave him a sad smile and took his hand.

"Nothing. It just wasn't meant to be, I guess." That's the answer she'd always given herself, too.

"But, I loved him, dammit!" He flopped his head back against the bed. "I tried so hard to be good enough for him," he said, and Mercedes saw his eyes wet again as he faced her. "Why am I never good enough?"

"Blaine, listen to me. It wasn't your fault, okay? All the years I've known you you've been amazing to Kurt. You've supported him and encouraged him; hell, you put your own career and future on the line so that he would have an opportunity. You loved him more than yourself, and it's not your fault that he didn't appreciate you. Okay?"

He gave a half-hearted nod, but Mercedes wasn't having it.

"Boy, don't give me that. Smile," she sassily teased, and Blaine obliged her with a lopsided grin. She elbowed him playfully and went to continue watching the show, starting to feel a little drowsy. She looked at him when he felt his hand grace her arm.

"You're beautiful, Mercedes."

She blushed, looking away with a chuckle. "And you know this. I just wish, uh," she sniffled. "I wish Sam thought so again."

"Hey, now," Blaine said, and he moved himself so his entire body faced hers and he grasped both her shoulders in his large hands. "You can't just stop my pity party and have one of your own, huh?" he scolded lightly. He let his hands stroke her arms comfortingly. "Sam was an idiot to string you along, alright? You are amazing, Mercedes Jones. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."

"Boy," she smiled, wiping at her eyes, "Look at you, making me cry." Blaine stroked her cheek softly, smoothing the streaks of ruined mascara from her smooth, warm cheeks.

"You're right, I'm sorry. Someone as wonderful as you shouldn't cry. You were meant to smile. I mean look at it," he said, bringing his face closer to hers. "It's radiant."

"I'm hungry," Mercedes said suddenly, embarrassed by his words and closeness. He sat back, relinquishing his gentle hold on her.

"Right. Do you want to go, or…"

"Not really. Why don't you see who's still delivering while I go change out of this dress?"

"Yeah, sure."

About an hour later Mercedes was in a pair of pajamas and they lay stomach down on the bed, finishing boxes of rice and Sweet and Sour Chicken.

"Every single performance?" Mercedes asked in awe, eyeing Blaine skeptically. He nodded, swallowing his food.

"And sometimes dress rehearsals. Kurt wanted to know I supported him."

"But what about you?"

"What about me? If he wasn't happy, I wasn't happy. Anyway, it's your turn, madam."

"Miss, if you please. Nobody's put a ring on it, yet."

"Men everywhere will mourn the day," he teased poking her with a chopstick, and she smacked it away.

"Oh, stop it, you. Alright," she tapped her chin, glancing at the ceiling. "I applied for all of Sam's schools and scholarships for him. Collected recommendations. Applied for his student aid. Everything out of pocket."

Blaine whistled, and Mercedes laughed. "What?"

"You, my dear, were hooked."

"And you weren't? 'You move me, Kurt,'" she fawned dramatically, clutching her heart.

"Oh, you think you're funny?" He quickly swiped their boxes and set them safely on the floor, ignoring her indignant "Hey!" and moving to tickle her curvy sides. She rolled onto her back to deflect his attack, but he just straddled her without letting up his assault.

"Blaine," she rasped through a fit of giggles. "Stop!"

"Not until you apologize," he laughed, moving his hands along her tummy.

She was gasping a surrender in no time.

"Okay, okay! I give!" He stopped but didn't move, instead giving into his own laughing fit and falling lightly on top of her. They were breathing heavy, faces centimeters apart and smiling.

"You are evil, sir," Mercedes chuckled.

"You're an angel," he countered, looking her in the eye.

"Then, where's my wings?" she breathed, feeling a familiar warmth pool within.

"Someone stupid tried to take them away," he whispered, his lips almost touching hers. "Won't you let me give them back?"

It was Mercedes who closed the distance, her full lips moving frantically against his with a fiery passion similar to the one they'd had earlier. Only this time there was no guilt or remorse. They just wanted this, each other; they weren't trying to drown out their past loves, they wanted to get lost in one another.

They rolled on the bed, Mercedes straddling him and biting lightly at his lips, bruising them. Her hands moved eagerly along his arms and he gripped her waist tightly. The session alternated between twirling tongues and teasing pecks until they slowed to a stop to catch their breaths. Mercedes' loose brown curls cascade around her face as she looked down at him. His lips were stained with her lip gloss and his cheeks an adorable pink hue. The high she was on was addicting.

But was it right?

She moved to get off of him, but he tightened his hold on her. "Where are you going?"

She bit her lip, asking, "You want me to stay?" He chuckled lightly, bouncing her a little.

"Well, this is your room." She blushed at her mistake, and he leaned up to grant a quick kiss.

"You're adorable," he said.

"You're sweet," she replied, until she looked down at him with a new intent. "Aren't you gay?"

"I guess not, because I could have done that forever."

"I can't be… taken advantage of Blaine," she sighed, and she moved to leave again, only for her forehead to be pulled to his.

"I'm not like Sam, Mercedes," he said, staring into her eyes. "I know what I want, and I don't abuse the ones I care about. Let me love you."

She sat up, but this time Blaine let her move away from him. Pacing the floor, she looked at him as he settled on the bed's edge. Stopping, she massaged the developing headache from her temples. The clock on the nightstand read 3:13 AM. This was all too much.

"Blaine, I'm tired, alright? And I'm not going to pretend I'm not still hurting."

"And I'm not? Mercedes, I know how you're feeling. And truth be told, I'm not so sure what's going on, either. I just figured if I had to try to get through this, at least I could with likeminded company."

He got up and walked to her, wrapping her in an embrace from behind and laying his chin on her shoulder. Mercedes leaned back into his comforting arms. He spoke again. "You don't have to be with me, but I'd still like to get to know the woman who has made me feel more alive tonight than I have in months. Let's show 'em that they can't get us down, especially a diva extraordinaire like you."

"You have a way with words."

"I only speak the truth."

She turned in his arms to look him square in the face, silently judging him. Would it be so wrong to share love and healing with this man?

In a decisive movement, she claimed his lips, relishing in their languid movements. He moaned into her and she returned the favor.

Maybe it was crazy, but their lives were never that normal anyway.

AN: Can't say that I'm pleased with this, especially since it's my first time doing this pairing. Ah well; you win some, you lose some. I hope you at least enjoyed it, TheGoldenViolet. It was completed with love(:

I just want to say I'm open to more requests. I'm not really coming up with many nuggets, myself.

And, finally, it would seem that I have a little reputation for being bias towards other writers in the fandom. If I've offended anyone in any way, I want to apologize. Sometimes I let my sarcasm get carried away, but I want to let everyone know that I have no hurtful predispositions towards anyone.

So, yeah, let's nip this thing in the bud and just be a united front of awesome fanfiction writers. Who's with me?

As always, thanks for reading, and I'd appreciate it if you dropped me a review!