You and Me in the Summertime, Sam/Mercedes, PG
Title: You and Me in The Summertime
Author: skintightsocks
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam/Mercedes
Word Count: 2,500+
Summary: "Actually," Sam says slowly, looking down at her nervously, "I kind of had something planned. Like. A date. Nothing fancy or anything - you can even keep your pajamas on if you want. They're really cute."
Spoilers: Episode 2x22
Warnings: None
Author Notes: Title is from the song 'Summertime' by The Sundays. We are very much looking forward to putting ourselves into a diabetic coma this summer writing adorable Sam/Mercedes fics, oh my gosh.
Mercedes is in her pajamas watching a Project Runway rerun when the doorbell rings. She pauses the show and shuffles to the door, looking through the peephole first just in case it's a serial killer or something.
It's not.
It's worse.
It's Sam.
"I'm not home!" Mercedes shouts, panicked. Sam has an undone bowtie around his neck and is holding a rose she's pretty sure he picked from Mrs. McMillian's house down the street.
"Mercedes, I can hear you," Sam says, frowning at the door. "It's me, Sam."
"I know," she says, trying to think of any way to stall him so she can go get dressed. And do her hair. And put on makeup. She's so screwed. "I'm not dressed," she says her eyes going wide when Sam's eyebrows raise. "Not like that," Mercedes says, blushing.
"So wait," Sam says. "Do you have clothes on?"
"Yes," Mercedes answers.
Sam turns the doorknob, and Mercedes groans when she hears it open. Her dad never remembers to lock it behind him when he leaves. She throws her back against the door, trying to keep it shut, but Sam's already halfway through so she mostly just kind of crushes him.
"Oof," Sam says, pushing the rest of the way through. "I'm starting to feel kind of unwelcome," he says, turning around and then breaking out into a wide grin. "Okay," he says, staring her up and down in her sock monkey footy pajamas and clearly trying not to laugh. "That's adorable."
"Shut the hell up," she groans, falling back against the wall. "I thought you had to work late."
"I swapped with Joey," Sam says, holding out the rose to her proudly. "I brought you this. I also kind of stabbed myself a few times trying to get the thorns off, so I'm sorry if there's blood. On your flower," Sam says awkwardly, and Mercedes smiles at him and goes up on her toes to kiss his cheek.
"Thank you," she says, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind her into the kitchen so she can put in water. She grabs a band-aid from the top drawer once she's done and catches Sam's hand again, turning it over and wrapping the band-aid carefully around his thumb.
"Thanks," he says, flicking his head to toss his hair out of his eyes.
"Thanks for the flower," Mercedes says, lacing her fingers with Sam's and squeezing a little. "Do you want to hang? I'm halfway through Project Runway and this is the episode with all the drama so I'm sure as hell not switching the channel, but you can watch with me."
"Actually," Sam says slowly, looking down at her nervously, "I kind of had something planned. Like. A date. Nothing fancy or anything - you can even keep your pajamas on if you want. They're really cute." His mouth twitches like he wants to smile and Mercedes rolls her eyes.
"You have lost your damn mind if you think I'm leaving the house in footy pajamas. You're wearing a bow tie, though," she says, narrowing her eyes. "This isn't something fancy, is it?" She doesn't want to push too hard because Sam gets kind of testy about the money situation, but she's told him like ten times already that she doesn't mind coffee dates and babysitting dates and watching movies while her dad walks by every five minutes dates.
"Not fancy," Sam says, with an apologetic shrug. "I just figured if I was going to show up smelling like pizza sauce I could at least try to look decent, but then I realized I didn't know how to tie a bowtie and the only tie Kurt gave me had a naked lady silhouette on it, which I didn't really think was appropriate. I'm also not entirely sure why he had that in the first place, actually," Sam says, tilting his head.
"He went through a butch phase last year, and then tried to 'incorporate more subversive stereotypical machismo' into his everyday look," Mercedes recites dutifully. Kurt had made her memorize it, in case someone ever asked. Sam's the first person who has.
"Okay," Sam says, "I only know what, like, half of those words mean."
"You and me both," Mercedes reassures him. "C'mere," she says, reaching up to grab the ends of his bowtie.
"You know how to tie a bowtie?" Sam asks. "Cool."
"I've been Kurt Hummel's best friend since 5th grade," Mercedes says. "He fell off his bike in 6th grade and made me learn just in case he ever had to wear a sling or a cast. There were flashcards involved."
"Cool," Sam says again, more quietly this time, and when Mercedes tightens the bow and looks up, Sam's right there, staring down at her, and her stomach does that swooping thing it's started to do around Sam, like it's just decided to flip itself over for no reason at all.
Sam brings his hand up to cup her face the way he always does when he kisses her, and Mercedes smiles a little to herself at the realization that she knows the way Sam kisses now, knows the way his palm feels against her cheek, warm and broad. She tilts her head up, Sam's hand guiding her to the right angle, and they kiss soft and slow, pressed up against the island in the middle of her kitchen.
"I had plans," Sam says after a few minutes, pulling back and wrapping his arms low around her waist. "We're going on a date."
"I can't change if you don't let go of me," Mercedes points out, and Sam just squeezes tighter. "Sam," she laughs, swatting at his chest.
"Give me a minute," Sam says, darting in to kiss her again. "I'm thinking about it."
-
"Your chariot awaits," Sam says in one of his weird accents, doing a mock bow opening the door of the car he uses to deliver pizzas.
"I thought you weren't allowed to drive this during off hours," Mercedes says once Sam shuts her door and slides into the driver's seat. She doesn't want Sam risking his job just to take her out somewhere.
"I covered Josh's ass last week, he owed me one," Sam says, and Mercedes smiles indulgently at him. Josh is the assistant manager at the pizza place that Sam works at, and Sam hates him. Granted, the one time Mercedes met him he had seemed like just as much of a smug asshole as Sam had made him out to be, but still.
"So where are we going?" Mercedes asks, bouncing a little in her seat.
"Nowhere special," Sam says, smiling over at her and reaching out for her hand when they stop at a red light.
-
"Okay," Sam says, opening the door for her and holding his hand out to help her out. "Keep your eyes closed." Mercedes does, only startling a little when Sam's hands cover her eyes and he starts to shuffle her forward, bending down so his shoulders curve around hers. They shuffle forward for a few seconds before Sam suddenly stills and says, "Aww, crap!" under his breath.
"What?" Mercedes asks. "What? I can't see, Sam, and I don't like the bad kind of surprises. Do not test me."
"No, no," Sam says, kissing her cheek quickly. "I just kind of forgot to get the stuff out of the car. Um. Stay right here, okay?" he says, taking his hands from her eyes and squeezing at her shoulders. "I'll be right back, keep your eyes closed!"
Mercedes sighs as Sam takes off in what sounds like a sprint behind her. There's a quiet, "Oww! Dude, not cool, branch," a minute or two later, and it doesn't take long before Sam's pressed to her back again.
"Okay," he says. "Close your eyes and turn around. Slowly. So I can set things up."
"You should have just brought a blindfold," Mercedes says with an eyeroll, turning around and listening closely as Sam shuffles around behind her, trying to figure out what's going on. All she can make out is rustling and some scratches and then the sudden, sharp smell of a match. "I don't know how comfortable I am with you playing with fire," Mercedes says, because she has seen the boy trip over his own feet and land headfirst off a stage before.
"I've got this," Sam says. "I checked the wind direction and everything to make sure I wouldn't accidentally start a forest fire. Now," he says, moving back in and wrapping his arms around her waist. "Keep your eyes closed," he says, shuffling her around in a circle. "Keep them closed," he repeats, his breath warm against her ear. "Closed, closed, closed, and... open!" he says, squeezing her waist and bouncing a little behind her.
There's a plaid sheet that's seen better days spread on the ground, an open pizza box and two cans of Coke sitting at one corner, and a a flickering candle in the middle, dangerously close to a bunch of what looks like ragweed stuck haphazardly into the neck of a water bottle.
"I know it's not a lot," Sam says from behind her, his voice sounding nervous when she doesn't respond immediately. "I just thought maybe we could like. Picnic. I didn't have a ton of time to--" Mercedes cuts him off, turning around in his arms and kissing him softly.
"Thank you," she says, grinning when Sam ducks his head and blushes a little.
"Now," he says, taking her hand and leading her to the sheet. "I got the pizza at half price because someone ordered it and didn't want it, but I picked all the olives off your half because I know you don't like them, and I smuggled out one of the heat carriers, so it should still be warm. Ish. Maybe," he says, sitting down and twiddling his thumbs.
"Sam," Mercedes says, laughing a little and putting her hand over his. "Why are you so nervous? We've been on dates before."
"Coffee dates. Netflix dates. I just wish I could take you to a real dinner, you know," he says quietly.
"I don't know," Mercedes says, handing Sam a slice of pizza and grabbing herself a piece from the olive-free side. "I kind of like it, like this. Just us."
"Yeah?" Sam asks around a mouthful of pizza.
"Boy, shut your mouth when you're eating," Mercedes says, giggling despite her best efforts not to and smacking at Sam's arm. "We're not there yet."
"Sorry," Sam says sheepishly, swallowing his bite and then smiling at her.
-
"So, this was kind of a disaster, huh?" Sam asks quietly.
"No!" Mercedes says quickly. Too quickly. Sam snorts above her, and Mercedes starts to laugh helplessly, turning her face into Sam's chest where they're lying on the sheet.
"I set the flowers on fire," Sam says, stroking at her shoulder.
"You did," Mercedes agrees. "But you also heroically put that fire out."
"And managed to spill our drinks and get leaves and ash all over the leftover pizza," Sam says. "One day, someone will write a song about my thrilling heroics."
"Why wait?" Mercedes asks, turning until she can rest her arms on his chest and look up at him. "I know you're not forgetting my mad songwriting skills."
"I did vastly prefer Hell To The No to Trouty Mouth, that's for sure," Sam mumbles.
"That's because I'm fabulous," Mercedes says, "and I like your lips. Which makes them fabulous by association."
"Sweet! I think, anyway," Sam says with a sideways grin, tucking her bangs back behind her ear and then just kind of letting his hand rest there, cupping her face, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone. It makes her nervous when he does that, just stares like that, and Mercedes drops her eyes. "Don't do that," he says quietly. "I like looking at you."
"I don't know how you can see anything with all that hair in your eyes," Mercedes says, deflecting.
"If you let me kiss you, I'll let you cut it," Sam says, and Mercedes rolls her eyes at him but stretches up to meet him when he leans down. Sam kisses her soft and slow, his hand sliding down her back to settle at the small of her back and push her closer, pull her in flush to his side, and Mercedes makes an embarrassing noise against his mouth. She tenses a little, not sure how Sam's going to react, but he just smiles against her lips and strokes his fingers over her back, sucking softly on her bottom lip in a way that makes Mercedes feel warm and kind of lazy, like she could stay right here and kiss Sam for hours. She's thinking about doing just that when Sam yelps and jerks back, slapping his hand at the side of his neck.
"What?" Mercedes asks, startled. "What the hell?"
"Something bit me," Sam says, looking around accusingly like whatever it was is just going to pop up and take credit. "It hurt," he mumbles, rubbing at his neck and Mercedes takes pity on him because he's kind of cute when he pouts.
"Poor baby," Mercedes says, leaning in and kissing at the side of Sam's neck.
"I think it bit me here, too," Sam says, pointing at his jaw when she pulls back.
"Shut up, Sam," Mercedes laughs.
"It really hurts," Sam says, pouting. "It could be anything. It could be an evil, mutated zombie bug, and the only cure is a kiss from you."
"So you want me to put my lips on your gross zombie bite," Mercedes says, raising an eyebrow. "Do you listen to yourself talk?"
"I might die," Sam says, widening his eyes and getting up to his knees. "I can feel it! Spreading! Quick, before it reaches my brain!" He's making loud, overdramatic choking sounds now, which doesn't even make sense, but Mercedes gives in anyway, rising to her knees and kissing his jaw with an exaggerated smack.
"There," she says. "Happy now?"
"Almost," Sam says, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging until they collapse backward. They land halfway off the sheet, their heads on the ground, and Mercedes pushes at Sam's chest, laughing breathlessly and trying to squirm out of his arms.
"I am not getting grass and dirt all up in my hair," she says. "Not even you are that cute."
"I think you're lying," Sam says, pulling her closer. "You can't resist my charms, Mrs. Jones." He says that last part in his stupid Sean Connery voice as he rolls them over until she's resting on top of him, safely out of the grass.
"Keep on thinking that. I'm just making sure any zombie bugs will bite your ass before they get near mine," Mercedes says, smiling down brightly at him. He may be right that she can't resist him, but there's no need to let him know it just yet. A girl's got to keep the upper hand, after all.
And naderegen made some gorgeous art for our fic that you can see here! ♥___♥
Author: skintightsocks
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam/Mercedes
Word Count: 2,500+
Summary: "Actually," Sam says slowly, looking down at her nervously, "I kind of had something planned. Like. A date. Nothing fancy or anything - you can even keep your pajamas on if you want. They're really cute."
Spoilers: Episode 2x22
Warnings: None
Author Notes: Title is from the song 'Summertime' by The Sundays. We are very much looking forward to putting ourselves into a diabetic coma this summer writing adorable Sam/Mercedes fics, oh my gosh.
Mercedes is in her pajamas watching a Project Runway rerun when the doorbell rings. She pauses the show and shuffles to the door, looking through the peephole first just in case it's a serial killer or something.
It's not.
It's worse.
It's Sam.
"I'm not home!" Mercedes shouts, panicked. Sam has an undone bowtie around his neck and is holding a rose she's pretty sure he picked from Mrs. McMillian's house down the street.
"Mercedes, I can hear you," Sam says, frowning at the door. "It's me, Sam."
"I know," she says, trying to think of any way to stall him so she can go get dressed. And do her hair. And put on makeup. She's so screwed. "I'm not dressed," she says her eyes going wide when Sam's eyebrows raise. "Not like that," Mercedes says, blushing.
"So wait," Sam says. "Do you have clothes on?"
"Yes," Mercedes answers.
Sam turns the doorknob, and Mercedes groans when she hears it open. Her dad never remembers to lock it behind him when he leaves. She throws her back against the door, trying to keep it shut, but Sam's already halfway through so she mostly just kind of crushes him.
"Oof," Sam says, pushing the rest of the way through. "I'm starting to feel kind of unwelcome," he says, turning around and then breaking out into a wide grin. "Okay," he says, staring her up and down in her sock monkey footy pajamas and clearly trying not to laugh. "That's adorable."
"Shut the hell up," she groans, falling back against the wall. "I thought you had to work late."
"I swapped with Joey," Sam says, holding out the rose to her proudly. "I brought you this. I also kind of stabbed myself a few times trying to get the thorns off, so I'm sorry if there's blood. On your flower," Sam says awkwardly, and Mercedes smiles at him and goes up on her toes to kiss his cheek.
"Thank you," she says, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind her into the kitchen so she can put in water. She grabs a band-aid from the top drawer once she's done and catches Sam's hand again, turning it over and wrapping the band-aid carefully around his thumb.
"Thanks," he says, flicking his head to toss his hair out of his eyes.
"Thanks for the flower," Mercedes says, lacing her fingers with Sam's and squeezing a little. "Do you want to hang? I'm halfway through Project Runway and this is the episode with all the drama so I'm sure as hell not switching the channel, but you can watch with me."
"Actually," Sam says slowly, looking down at her nervously, "I kind of had something planned. Like. A date. Nothing fancy or anything - you can even keep your pajamas on if you want. They're really cute." His mouth twitches like he wants to smile and Mercedes rolls her eyes.
"You have lost your damn mind if you think I'm leaving the house in footy pajamas. You're wearing a bow tie, though," she says, narrowing her eyes. "This isn't something fancy, is it?" She doesn't want to push too hard because Sam gets kind of testy about the money situation, but she's told him like ten times already that she doesn't mind coffee dates and babysitting dates and watching movies while her dad walks by every five minutes dates.
"Not fancy," Sam says, with an apologetic shrug. "I just figured if I was going to show up smelling like pizza sauce I could at least try to look decent, but then I realized I didn't know how to tie a bowtie and the only tie Kurt gave me had a naked lady silhouette on it, which I didn't really think was appropriate. I'm also not entirely sure why he had that in the first place, actually," Sam says, tilting his head.
"He went through a butch phase last year, and then tried to 'incorporate more subversive stereotypical machismo' into his everyday look," Mercedes recites dutifully. Kurt had made her memorize it, in case someone ever asked. Sam's the first person who has.
"Okay," Sam says, "I only know what, like, half of those words mean."
"You and me both," Mercedes reassures him. "C'mere," she says, reaching up to grab the ends of his bowtie.
"You know how to tie a bowtie?" Sam asks. "Cool."
"I've been Kurt Hummel's best friend since 5th grade," Mercedes says. "He fell off his bike in 6th grade and made me learn just in case he ever had to wear a sling or a cast. There were flashcards involved."
"Cool," Sam says again, more quietly this time, and when Mercedes tightens the bow and looks up, Sam's right there, staring down at her, and her stomach does that swooping thing it's started to do around Sam, like it's just decided to flip itself over for no reason at all.
Sam brings his hand up to cup her face the way he always does when he kisses her, and Mercedes smiles a little to herself at the realization that she knows the way Sam kisses now, knows the way his palm feels against her cheek, warm and broad. She tilts her head up, Sam's hand guiding her to the right angle, and they kiss soft and slow, pressed up against the island in the middle of her kitchen.
"I had plans," Sam says after a few minutes, pulling back and wrapping his arms low around her waist. "We're going on a date."
"I can't change if you don't let go of me," Mercedes points out, and Sam just squeezes tighter. "Sam," she laughs, swatting at his chest.
"Give me a minute," Sam says, darting in to kiss her again. "I'm thinking about it."
-
"Your chariot awaits," Sam says in one of his weird accents, doing a mock bow opening the door of the car he uses to deliver pizzas.
"I thought you weren't allowed to drive this during off hours," Mercedes says once Sam shuts her door and slides into the driver's seat. She doesn't want Sam risking his job just to take her out somewhere.
"I covered Josh's ass last week, he owed me one," Sam says, and Mercedes smiles indulgently at him. Josh is the assistant manager at the pizza place that Sam works at, and Sam hates him. Granted, the one time Mercedes met him he had seemed like just as much of a smug asshole as Sam had made him out to be, but still.
"So where are we going?" Mercedes asks, bouncing a little in her seat.
"Nowhere special," Sam says, smiling over at her and reaching out for her hand when they stop at a red light.
-
"Okay," Sam says, opening the door for her and holding his hand out to help her out. "Keep your eyes closed." Mercedes does, only startling a little when Sam's hands cover her eyes and he starts to shuffle her forward, bending down so his shoulders curve around hers. They shuffle forward for a few seconds before Sam suddenly stills and says, "Aww, crap!" under his breath.
"What?" Mercedes asks. "What? I can't see, Sam, and I don't like the bad kind of surprises. Do not test me."
"No, no," Sam says, kissing her cheek quickly. "I just kind of forgot to get the stuff out of the car. Um. Stay right here, okay?" he says, taking his hands from her eyes and squeezing at her shoulders. "I'll be right back, keep your eyes closed!"
Mercedes sighs as Sam takes off in what sounds like a sprint behind her. There's a quiet, "Oww! Dude, not cool, branch," a minute or two later, and it doesn't take long before Sam's pressed to her back again.
"Okay," he says. "Close your eyes and turn around. Slowly. So I can set things up."
"You should have just brought a blindfold," Mercedes says with an eyeroll, turning around and listening closely as Sam shuffles around behind her, trying to figure out what's going on. All she can make out is rustling and some scratches and then the sudden, sharp smell of a match. "I don't know how comfortable I am with you playing with fire," Mercedes says, because she has seen the boy trip over his own feet and land headfirst off a stage before.
"I've got this," Sam says. "I checked the wind direction and everything to make sure I wouldn't accidentally start a forest fire. Now," he says, moving back in and wrapping his arms around her waist. "Keep your eyes closed," he says, shuffling her around in a circle. "Keep them closed," he repeats, his breath warm against her ear. "Closed, closed, closed, and... open!" he says, squeezing her waist and bouncing a little behind her.
There's a plaid sheet that's seen better days spread on the ground, an open pizza box and two cans of Coke sitting at one corner, and a a flickering candle in the middle, dangerously close to a bunch of what looks like ragweed stuck haphazardly into the neck of a water bottle.
"I know it's not a lot," Sam says from behind her, his voice sounding nervous when she doesn't respond immediately. "I just thought maybe we could like. Picnic. I didn't have a ton of time to--" Mercedes cuts him off, turning around in his arms and kissing him softly.
"Thank you," she says, grinning when Sam ducks his head and blushes a little.
"Now," he says, taking her hand and leading her to the sheet. "I got the pizza at half price because someone ordered it and didn't want it, but I picked all the olives off your half because I know you don't like them, and I smuggled out one of the heat carriers, so it should still be warm. Ish. Maybe," he says, sitting down and twiddling his thumbs.
"Sam," Mercedes says, laughing a little and putting her hand over his. "Why are you so nervous? We've been on dates before."
"Coffee dates. Netflix dates. I just wish I could take you to a real dinner, you know," he says quietly.
"I don't know," Mercedes says, handing Sam a slice of pizza and grabbing herself a piece from the olive-free side. "I kind of like it, like this. Just us."
"Yeah?" Sam asks around a mouthful of pizza.
"Boy, shut your mouth when you're eating," Mercedes says, giggling despite her best efforts not to and smacking at Sam's arm. "We're not there yet."
"Sorry," Sam says sheepishly, swallowing his bite and then smiling at her.
-
"So, this was kind of a disaster, huh?" Sam asks quietly.
"No!" Mercedes says quickly. Too quickly. Sam snorts above her, and Mercedes starts to laugh helplessly, turning her face into Sam's chest where they're lying on the sheet.
"I set the flowers on fire," Sam says, stroking at her shoulder.
"You did," Mercedes agrees. "But you also heroically put that fire out."
"And managed to spill our drinks and get leaves and ash all over the leftover pizza," Sam says. "One day, someone will write a song about my thrilling heroics."
"Why wait?" Mercedes asks, turning until she can rest her arms on his chest and look up at him. "I know you're not forgetting my mad songwriting skills."
"I did vastly prefer Hell To The No to Trouty Mouth, that's for sure," Sam mumbles.
"That's because I'm fabulous," Mercedes says, "and I like your lips. Which makes them fabulous by association."
"Sweet! I think, anyway," Sam says with a sideways grin, tucking her bangs back behind her ear and then just kind of letting his hand rest there, cupping her face, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone. It makes her nervous when he does that, just stares like that, and Mercedes drops her eyes. "Don't do that," he says quietly. "I like looking at you."
"I don't know how you can see anything with all that hair in your eyes," Mercedes says, deflecting.
"If you let me kiss you, I'll let you cut it," Sam says, and Mercedes rolls her eyes at him but stretches up to meet him when he leans down. Sam kisses her soft and slow, his hand sliding down her back to settle at the small of her back and push her closer, pull her in flush to his side, and Mercedes makes an embarrassing noise against his mouth. She tenses a little, not sure how Sam's going to react, but he just smiles against her lips and strokes his fingers over her back, sucking softly on her bottom lip in a way that makes Mercedes feel warm and kind of lazy, like she could stay right here and kiss Sam for hours. She's thinking about doing just that when Sam yelps and jerks back, slapping his hand at the side of his neck.
"What?" Mercedes asks, startled. "What the hell?"
"Something bit me," Sam says, looking around accusingly like whatever it was is just going to pop up and take credit. "It hurt," he mumbles, rubbing at his neck and Mercedes takes pity on him because he's kind of cute when he pouts.
"Poor baby," Mercedes says, leaning in and kissing at the side of Sam's neck.
"I think it bit me here, too," Sam says, pointing at his jaw when she pulls back.
"Shut up, Sam," Mercedes laughs.
"It really hurts," Sam says, pouting. "It could be anything. It could be an evil, mutated zombie bug, and the only cure is a kiss from you."
"So you want me to put my lips on your gross zombie bite," Mercedes says, raising an eyebrow. "Do you listen to yourself talk?"
"I might die," Sam says, widening his eyes and getting up to his knees. "I can feel it! Spreading! Quick, before it reaches my brain!" He's making loud, overdramatic choking sounds now, which doesn't even make sense, but Mercedes gives in anyway, rising to her knees and kissing his jaw with an exaggerated smack.
"There," she says. "Happy now?"
"Almost," Sam says, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging until they collapse backward. They land halfway off the sheet, their heads on the ground, and Mercedes pushes at Sam's chest, laughing breathlessly and trying to squirm out of his arms.
"I am not getting grass and dirt all up in my hair," she says. "Not even you are that cute."
"I think you're lying," Sam says, pulling her closer. "You can't resist my charms, Mrs. Jones." He says that last part in his stupid Sean Connery voice as he rolls them over until she's resting on top of him, safely out of the grass.
"Keep on thinking that. I'm just making sure any zombie bugs will bite your ass before they get near mine," Mercedes says, smiling down brightly at him. He may be right that she can't resist him, but there's no need to let him know it just yet. A girl's got to keep the upper hand, after all.
And naderegen made some gorgeous art for our fic that you can see here! ♥___♥