Disclaimer on first page

A/N: Hey, it's been a while. I missed you guys too :) The drama continues:

"The Grill Master is at work ladies and gents, and you're very, very welcome." Puck tossed a pair of tongs in the air, spinning around and catching them in his opposite hand before bowing with an obnoxious wink.

"Whatever, man. Your grilling skills would be nothing without my seasoning. It's all about the flava, feel me?" Artie put his hand up to silence Puck's retort. "Don't even start, or I'll be rolling away to get an ice cold beer faster than you can blink."

The "Grill Master" glared but ultimately turned back to his steaks. "Some salt and pepper and you think you're the shit…"

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing…"

"That's what I thought," Artie snapped, turning back to season and skewer various meat and veggies.

Sam, Brittany, Santana, Blaine, and Quinn snickered into their drinks. The pair had been at it for over an hour. After Frederick dropped off the supplies for dinner, Artie and Puck incited a small war when they simultaneously called Grill Master dibs.

"You? Grilling? I have a pool cleaning business. Pools and barbeque go together like pb&j dude, I got this."

"Look, just because your Neanderthal ass discovered fire doesn't mean you know how to make anything taste good. I'm hungry for food, not shoe leather."

"I know my spices!"

"Puck, you wouldn't know the difference between cumin and paprika if I gave you a 45 minute lecture. And let's be real, the only meat you're even close to qualified to handle is in your pants."

After that fatal blow, they agreed to let Artie work his magic on the spice rub while Puck got to flip things so his ego wasn't too shattered. Once he got a taste of the famous Abrams family bbq rub, he was singing his smug partner's praises.

Grateful as he was for the beginnings of dinner and a show, Sam couldn't help but be anxious for Mercedes to return before they started eating. He wanted to squash whatever this tension was between them so they could enjoy what was left of their time together. Checking his cell for messages for what must have been the twentieth time, he sighed in frustration and let himself be drawn back into conversation.

"Oh yeah, definitely the game room! With that big screen and Tina's surprisingly large collection of… umm… DVD's…"

"Wait, what?" Sam took in Blaine's red face, and the girls' amused expressions and his confusion only grew.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Trouty? Mike and Tina move dinner to a later time, yet their families are gone and they haven't been seen since they came back from seeing them off hours ago, and you haven't connected the dots?" She huffed a defeated sigh when all she got was Sam's head cocked to the side with question marks in his eyes.

"They're fucking, Sam," came Quinn's abrupt explanation, "Mike and Tina are undoubtedly christening every horizontal surface in that villa, and probably some of the vertical ones." She paused to take a sip of her brew when her eyes grew wide. Holding up a hand to get the group's attention she motioned for them to be silent and faintly, from the other side of the gardens…

"Mmmmike, oh fuck!"

"And the grounds as well!" Quinn bit back a laugh and held up her glass in the unseen couple's direction. "Mazel Tov!" she hollered, cupping her hand around her mouth. Indistinctly shouted words, most likely expletives, could just barely be heard from far away. The group, doubled over with laughter, didn't hear anyone approaching.

"Wanna fill us in on what it is that's so funny?"

Sam looked up to see Kurt and a softly smiling Mercedes. He immediately stopped laughing when he saw her eyes; they were puffy and slightly red, like she'd been crying. She sat on the picnic bench, scooting close to him, and Kurt slid in across from her, next to his boyfriend. The rest of the table immediately began to fill them in on what just went down, but all he could do was stare at her as she chuckled at the story. She looked exhausted.

"Sammy?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and hoped his face didn't look too surprised. He wasn't expecting her to call him that; then again he wasn't expecting her to want to talk to him, period. "Babe, about earlier…I'm sorry-"

She cut him off with a small shake of her head. "We're good." Mercedes grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze, as if sensing his confusion. "Let's just say I came back from an exercise in perspective."

Sam nodded and brought their joined hands to his mouth, kissing her knuckles, and melting a bit when she settled against him with her head on his shoulder. He had so many questions, about them of course, but mostly why she seemed so shook and tired. Just as he opened his mouth to get a few answers, the couple of the moment arrived.

"Well look who decided to show up!" Santana exclaimed, looking like the cat that caught the canary. "Though I suppose when two people share as much love as you do, they get pretty hungry…"

"Satan," Mercedes admonished her friend, "leave them alone! As if today hasn't been eventful enough for them…" she threw a wink Tina's way and patted the empty bench beside her.

The red-faced newlyweds took their places beside Mercedes and decided that if laughs were to be had, they might as well join in. Sam couldn't resist giving Mike what he thought was a covert fist bump behind their ladies' backs, but it didn't exactly go unnoticed – if the matching smacks upside their heads were any indication.

Artie and Puck came over with platters of grilled meats, some salads and some fresh baked rolls and placed the spread on the picnic table with a flourish. Everyone cheered and applauded the chefs as they bowed, graciously.

Artie raised his pint towards the newlyweds. "I just wanna say that I'm happy we had an opportunity to pause our busy lives and spend some quality time together, and I'm even happier that the reason we came together was to help these two celebrate their love." Everyone toasted and cheered. "Alright everyone, dig in! Grab a thigh or breast, lord knows Mike already did…"

"Hey!"

Mercedes shifted the warm, covered plate to one hand and knocked carefully on the door with the hand that held a cold beer.

"Who is it?"

"Finn? It's Mercedes. I brought you something to eat. And I figured we could talk, if you wanted." She shifted uneasily for a few beats. "Or I could just leave this out here for you, I didn't want to impose-"

The door swung open, and Finn filled the frame looking pretty rough; there were puffy bags under his eyes, he was fairly pale, and he had an air of defeat about him. Mercedes immediately wished she had checked on him sooner instead of going to see Rachel. Now she was stuck with a truth that she could hardly bear, face to face with the one person to whom she couldn't tell it – and who also happened to be the one that needed to hear it the most.

"Nah, it's fine. Come in, Mercy." He held the door open for her and stepped aside so that she could enter. "Thanks for bringing me some dinner, you didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to. If I had no other clue that something wasn't right, you not being at dinner would have tipped me off." He cracked a small smile at that, and she couldn't help but notice it didn't reach his eyes. Fifteen minutes into dinner, she realized that Finn wasn't there. When she asked them why, the table went silent for a moment before Puck gave her a meaningful look and said he was tired and wanted a nap. She'd known Finn since kindergarten and he had never skipped a meal, not once.

She placed the plate and bottle on the little desk across from the bed and motioned for him to tuck in. He picked at the plate, managing a few bites and a swig of beer before turning to offer her some. Never in his life had Finn Hudson shared food, it was to the point where there was a running joke that when it came time to feed his bride a piece of wedding cake, he'd end up feeding himself. It may seem silly to some, but this made Mercedes quite a bit more worried than she had been a few minutes ago.

"No thanks, I already ate. Artie and Puck outdid themselves, huh? Considering how competitive they were getting around that grill, you would've thought we'd end up with little hockey pucks of meat," Mercedes giggled. Finn managed a halfhearted chuckle that ended abruptly with an emotional swallow that made Mercedes want to hug him and slap Rachel at the same time.

"Apparently I don't have much of an appetite," he muttered.

"Finn..."

"The world must be coming to an end, huh?"

"Finn."

He abandoned his food and came to sit next to her on the bed. Finn may be somewhat of a giant, but in that moment she would have sworn that he was the smallest, most fragile thing she'd laid her eyes on. He looked up at her, his brown eyes glassy.

"It feels like my world is ending, anyway."

Any strength she had was dissolved with that broken admission. Mercedes held him while he cried, as much to hide her own tears as to comfort him. While she didn't know the depth of his pain, she could certainly relate. When Sam left her that winter day, it was as if her world collapsed around her and not only did she feel as if she couldn't breathe, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

And here she was, sitting with information that would both twist the knife in her friend's emotional wound and give him closure, and she did not know what to do. As messed up of an individual as Rachel was, she clearly needed help – she can't have been right in the head. And she did technically promise her she wouldn't say anything, but that was before she told her, and there was no way she could guess how fucked up the situation would end up being.

"You know what's probably the most messed up part of this whole thing?"

Mercedes jumped and panicked, wondering if she made the mistake of thinking out loud. She took his hand and squeezed it as he began to compose himself. "No, what?"

"I still love her," he said quietly, almost as if he couldn't believe himself. "After everything she's put me through, I'm sad not just for me or our relationship, but her." He shook his head. "It's fucked up."

"It sure is," she mumbled. Mercedes was at war with herself; should she break her promise to Rachel and tell him? Would telling him help or hurt at this point? What if later on he found out she knew and held out on him, how would that affect their friendship?

Finn blinked a few times before standing up to stretch his tall frame and physically shake himself out of his funk. When he turned to look at her, he seemed more present and alert – like he was actually looking at her instead of passively acknowledging her presence. "Mercedes?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks. I could-"

"Don't thank me," she blurted out harshly. If you only knew…

"What? Why?" He was quite taken aback.

"I…I just mean that we're friends, and we have been for practically our entire lives. It's a given that I'd be there for you, you know?"

"Oh, well I still want to thank you, all of you guys really…especially Sam and Puck, they've been so great. Oh and Mike and Tina for putting up with this bullshit." His face reddened. "They really didn't need this, but they've been so cool about it."

"You know they know it wasn't your fault. Rachel is how she is," she waved it off, "it's fine. Now what do you say we head out and catch the tail end of that barbecue?"

His face brightened up. "Sounds good, actually."

"Great. Just…" she hesitated for a moment, "promise me you'll call Rachel soon. I have a feeling that there's more to this story than she's letting on."

"What do you mean?" He narrowed his eyes a bit, as if the tiniest bit suspicious and her heart began to beat wildly.

"I just mean that it's Rachel, and as complicated as the situation is, you should give yourself some time and then get a clearer picture of everything that happened - for closure's sake," Mercedes explained, praying he'd let it go.

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. You've always been the level-headed one," he smiled, passing her and heading out the door. "You coming?"

"Yeah, I just have to make a call, I'll meet you outside." He nodded and headed down the hall. Once he was out of earshot, she slid down the wall and sat down, pulling out her phone and hitting the most recently dialed contact, listening anxiously to the ringing until the other person picked up.

"Mercedes, look I'm sorry I put all of that on you-"

"Save it. Out of respect for your clearly less than healthy mental state, my promise to you, and whatever friendship we used to have I didn't tell him. He is broken up about this charade and he doesn't even know the worst part. I feel like a shit friend to hold him while he cried and-"

"He cried?" Rachel asked, quietly.

"Yes, he cried. You two have been together since high school, and then you pulled some shit like this – he's human, of course he cried. And I knew and I couldn't say a thing. I told him to take some time to cool off and then call you. If he doesn't call you in a week, you call him or go to him and you tell him. Because I swear to god Rachel, if you don't tell him in two week's time, I sure as hell will."

She hung up, her entire body shaking from the intensity of the confrontation. Mercedes closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall, breathing slowly and deeply in order to steady her nerves. After a few minutes, she got up, brushed off her dress, and headed towards garden. If Finn could suck it up enough to enjoy this last night with their friends, so could she.

The rest of the cookout went off without a hitch, and Sam was relieved to see that even though Mercedes still looked tired, she seemed to be enjoying herself. As the meal was winding down, he decided that enough was enough. Grabbing a half bottle of wine and two glasses, he nudged Mercedes and gestured for her to follow him, hoots and wolf whistles from the peanut gallery be damned. He lead her up to the terrace where they had napped and argued earlier – he knew that returning to the scene of the crime, as it were, probably wasn't romantic. But the view and the fact that it faced the slowly setting sun in the western sky were, so he bet on that.

Sam got comfortable and watched as she poured them both a glass before accepting his and taking a sip. They were quiet for a few minutes, sipping and staring at nothing in particular, letting themselves and their thoughts settle. He was just beginning to get his thoughts together when she broke the silence.

"I know we need to talk about us, and I want to, and we will. But first I need to say something, I just need to get it out. I need you to promise me you won't ask me for details. I'll tell you more when I can, okay?"

His gaze snapped to her face and he frowned, slightly. "Okay, I promise."

She turned and faced him. "Rachel Berry should be fucking institutionalized, and I'm not exaggerating in any way shape or form. She needs help."

"Why-"

"I can't say, Sam. And I know I'm probably freaking you out a bit, but I need you to promise me one more thing, and this is even more important."

He was thoroughly alarmed. Had Rachel done or said something to hurt Mercedes? Or herself? He tried to soothe himself and steady his thumping heart by reminding himself that his girl was more than capable of taking care of herself. "Okay, what is it?"

"This…thing will come out soon. And if I know Rachel, it'll probably also come out that I knew first. When that happens, you need to tell Finn that I wanted to tell him."

Sam was confused and a little freaked – what the hell happened at that hotel? "Mercy, what-"

"I can't. It's just important, okay?" He was taken aback by how intense her gaze was, her big brown eyes imploring him not to press for more information. "He will need to know, and he might not want to talk to me at that point."

"I promise."

"Good." Sam watched as she took a deep sip from her glass and closed her eyes tightly for a moment. When she opened them, she offered him a smile and took his hand, which made him smile in turn. "Now, about us."

"What about us?"

"Well, for starters, I'm gonna get Quinn to push our spa weekend back. We'll have time to get scrubbed and wrapped next month. She is very important to me, but so are you."

Sam was pleasantly surprised. He never wanted to put her in a position to choose between her best friend and him, not only because it wasn't fair to her, but because he was pretty sure he wouldn't win. When it came to Quinn, he couldn't win for losing; it'd been that way since high school.

"What made you change your mind?" The expression that came over her face almost made him regret asking – she became rather serious.

"If we're going to do this," she squeezed his hand, "again, then we're going to have to rebuild how we are as an 'us' – we're different people now, with busy schedules in different cities." She paused, shaking her head adorably, almost as if she couldn't believe how "grown-up" they had become. "The way we used to know how to be with each other isn't a way we can be together now. Even when we were apart for school we spent at least two solid days together a week, and that might not be the case now…" she trailed off, suddenly quiet.

Sam sat back, taking in what she said. He honestly hadn't thought about any of it. In his mind, the biggest obstacle in the way of their reunion was the baggage from their break-up, and he'd been so focused on overcoming that, that he hadn't thought about what came after. It was true, they were different people with two separate lives, and they had to figure out how, logistically, this was going to work. It was daunting, to say the least.

"…and all of this is so new, and we're gonna have to get used to being apart more than we are together and I don't know if I can handle that! And what about holidays? Our families don't even live in the same state anymore! And what if I start touring again? And your company gets bigger every day, and-"

"Woah! Babe, slow down!" Sam was taken out of his reflective moment by an almost hysterical Mercedes working herself into a panic. He put down his glass and hers and took her into his arms, settling her into his lap and rubbing her back in slow circles. "Breathe, Mercy. I love you, okay?" He kissed her forehead and then touched his to hers.

"I love you too," she replied, softly.

Mercedes wasn't the only one taking some deep, even breaths to calm down. Seeing her like that was scary. He didn't ever want to see her that anxious about anything, least of all him or them. It made him feel guilty that she might be so stressed because she thought she had to figure everything out for herself. Suddenly, loud laughter and conversation could be heard heading up the steps to the terrace.

"Come on," he whispered, abandoning their drinks and taking her hand, leading her inside the house through the French doors. They went to his room, and laid down next to each other on the bed, flat on their backs, staring at the ceiling. Another few minutes of silence passed.

"You don't have to figure everything out by yourself, you know."

"I know…"

"Do you?" Sam turned his head and stared at her profile; it was lovely, like the rest of her. "Because I don't think you do. You're a nurturer, and I love that about you, you want to care of everything and everybody…shoulder everyone's burden."

"Sam-"

"Don't deny it, it's true. But in this relationship, we share and do everything together. Mercy…I don't ever wanna see you panicked like that again."

She turned her body toward him and supported her head with her hand. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

He couldn't help but chuckle, darkly. "There you go again, apologizing to me when you're the one who had the panic attack that was partly caused by me. You have nothing to be sorry about. I don't want to see you like that because it's not healthy and you're not happy." He turned on his side and mirrored her position. "And all I want is for you to be happy."

"I know." She let her head rest on the pillow and looked up at him with those dark doe eyes and a slight pout on her lips. He leaned down and kissed the pout away from her full lips, his hand immediately going to the dip of her waist and pulling her closer.

"We're going to handle this a day at a time, I promise," he mumbled against her lips, "okay?"

"Mhmm," Mercedes hummed against his lips, lashes fluttering when he drew her in for another, deeper kiss. He was enjoying the way her fingernails were lightly dragging down his back when, suddenly, he got an idea…

"What the hell, Sam?" Mercedes was quite startled when the person she had been enjoying an increasingly steamy make-out session with sat up quite unexpectedly and bolted towards the door.

"Sorry! Sorry, but I have to do something, I'll be right back, fifteen minutes tops, I promise. Wait here!"

"What-"

"Just wait here, okay?" He came over and gave her an excited peck on the lips, it was almost as if she could feel the energy buzzing in him.

"Okay…"

"Great. Be right back." Sam flew out the door.

Mercedes stared at the door and giggled, her hand coming up to cover the incredulous smirk on her face. Laying back down on the bed, she let out a sigh of relief. He was right, they would take it one day at a time, and everything would work out the way it was supposed to. Everything she got so worked up about just a short while ago seemed so much more manageable. She supposed the theme of the day was adjustments in perspective.

She wondered what Sam was up to. When he got that certain look in his eyes it was either something incredibly wonderful or extremely nerdy – or, on more than one occasion, both. She hummed to herself and took out the braid in her hair as she waited. Almost exactly fifteen minutes later he came in and wordlessly grabbed her hand, leading her out of his room and towards what seemed like hers. They entered her room, and he closed the door behind them before turning to her with the biggest grin. Mercedes thought he looked adorable, but was still kind of confused as to what it was that made him beam that way.

"So…" she began, "what now?"

"Strip."

"Excuse me?" Well damn, she thought to herself, he sure knows how to get to the point.

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do, but-"

"Then go into the bathroom, free that sexy body from its cloth prison, count to ten and then come out."

Never one to turn down naked shenanigans, Mercedes headed to the bathroom and did as told, except she decided to come out in her silk dressing robe instead of the buff. When she came out, the room was dark save for the glow of a row of candles, and Sam was down to his boxers with that same big ass grin.

"Sam?"

"Okay, so you looked pretty upset and stressed when coming back from Rachel's, and you got pretty anxious about us, and you're pushing back that spa stuff with Quinn for me, so I figured I owed you a massage."

She was touched, but emotion didn't keep her from seeing the mischievous glint in his eyes. "You're a saint, offering to rub me down. If only there was something in it for you," she teased, eyes sparkling.

"I know. But it's all about you. It's going to be hard work, getting to run my hands all over that body," he paused, his eyes raking up her figure in a way that made her flush, "but somehow I think I can soldier on." He gestured to the bed.

Mercedes walked over to the side of the bed, and stopped, turning to face him, not a foot between their bodies. She met his eyes and the intensity, the hunger in his eyes made her thighs clench together. Usually she'd feel her cheeks warm and break the gaze, but not tonight. Tonight, she felt bold. She held his gaze, feeling her body grow warmer as her hands reached to untie her robe. Slowly, she untied the knot, and then held the robe closed with her hands, her eyes never leaving his. In one fluid motion, she let the garment drop to the floor, smirking with satisfaction when Sam's gaze snapped to her curves.

Mercedes only waited a beat more before laying on the bed stomach down and gathering her hair off her neck. "What are you waiting for?" she purred, blinking up at him in faux innocence and smiling when she saw him gulp.

Warming the oil in his hands, he approached the bed, and she felt him straddle her. His large hands started at the nape of her neck and worked their way down her shoulders and upper back, kneading away the tension she carried. Every time he finished a particular area, he'd kiss it, and Mercedes was sure her eyes crossed from just how good it felt.

He was working dangerously low on her back, his thumbs making opposing circles in the dip just above her shapely ass, his thighs pressed against her hips, driving her mad. And just when she was sure he was going to give her what she wanted and palm her good, his hands skipped down to her upper thighs. Mercedes let out a whimper that was equal parts frustration and arousal, and she heard a throaty chuckle above her.

Oh he finds it amusing does he? She wiggled her ample backside a few times, his tortured groan sufficient payback for the relentless teasing. Sam worked his hands up the backs of her thighs, his thumbs just brushing her sensitive inner thighs and whatever aching she felt before was nothing compared to the throbbing heat she now felt between her legs. He slowly rubbed his way up her thighs to just under the curve of her ass, each stroke coming dangerously close to her center, winding her up.

Suddenly, he was kissing his way back up her body; thighs, each cheek, the dip in her back, all the way up to her neck, which he nibbled on, before he whispered into his trembling lover's ear.

"Tell me what you want."

"You know what I want," she hissed.

"Tell me." She hated that she could hear that sexy smirk in his voice.

"I want it," she breathed, almost lightheaded from arousal.

"It?"

"Mmm…"

"Oh, you mean this?" He dipped his hips, grinding his length against the softness of her ass. She could only moan and grind back.

"Yesss…"

"Good," he growled, "because I'm about to give it to you." He smacked her ass a resounding, possessive slap.

"Sammy!"

Sam did that for himself, lbr.

Next time we get a little Finncedes friendship flashback, a group goodbye, and a little flashback to Mercedes' life in those two years without Sam, among other things.

I'd love to know what you thought!

- Em