A day late, but I wrote this for Samcedes Week. Movie Day. It’s based on this indie flick, Dakota Skye. Enjoy? Okay, cool.
I still have the dream sometimes. I do. I come home from the store
and find you on my doorstep with a suitcase. And not your entire wardrobe.
Just a carry-on, a duffel bag. We don't say anything, but you have this
look in your eye that kills me. It just...And I unlock the door and let you in.
And that's it. That's the dream.
lovesamcedes asked youngbertreynolds:
can you write a fic/one-shot where mercedes is fashion consultant, and she discovers sam like a stripper in a club, and called he to be the model lines of her clothes, but they fall in love and refuse trying have feelings for each other, for maintain professionalism.
So a million years later, I’m posting a prompt. Which I was pushed to finish because I wanted to give Mira something (late) for her birthday! This was pretty fun to write, so I hope you like it. And sorry for any mistakes I missed!
What We Do Is Secret
Prompt: A requested one-shot, based on one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite dudes, Henry Rollins. A little bit of Punk!Samcedes because they’re my obsession.
“You are beautiful like demolition. Just the thought of you draws my knuckles white. I don’t need a god. I have you and your beautiful mouth, your hands holding onto me, the nails leaving unfelt wounds, your hot breath on my neck. The taste of your saliva. The darkness is ours. The nights belong to us. Everything we do is secret. Nothing we do will ever be understood; we will be feared and kept well away from. It will be the stuff of legend, endless discussion and limitless inspiration for the brave of heart. It’s you and me in this room, on this floor. Beyond life, beyond morality. We are gleaming animals painted in moonlit sweat glow. Our eyes turn to jewels and everything we do is an example of spontaneous perfection. I have been waiting all my life to be with you. My heart slams against my ribs when I think of the slaughtered nights I spent all over the world waiting to feel your touch. The time I annihilated while I waited like a man doing a life sentence. Now you’re here and everything we touch explodes, bursts into bloom or burns to ash. History atomizes and negates itself with our every shared breath. I need you like life needs life. I want you bad like a natural disaster. You are all I see. You are the only one I want to know.” —Henry Rollins
Deep breaths. Deep. Breaths.
Nothing was working and Sam’s hands could not stop shaking. He paced up and down the room, already in his tux, taking measured breaths and trying to calm his wedding jitters. This was Mercedes. He was marrying the girl he’d been in love with since he was seventeen. After the numerous roadblocks and long distances, this was finally it. She’d be his. And for some reason that was scaring the shit out of him. What if he screwed it up? What if she was making a mistake? Part of him knew his was talking crazy, but he couldn’t kick the nervous feeling in the back of his head.
“Hey man, you ready?” Puck asked, walking into the room, all dressed up and prepared to do ‘this wedding thing’ as he kept calling it.
“I can’t go out there,” Sam said suddenly, running his long fingers through his hair.
“Wait, what? What do you mean you can’t go out there?” Puck’s eyes bulged and he waited for the blond to explain himself before he grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the sanctuary himself.
“I can’t! I have to see her first,” he replied, pushing past his friend and leaving the room, looking down the hall to where she was getting ready and booking it in that direction.
“Shit. Sam!” Puck called, jogging after him. “You can’t see her before the wedding! It’s bad luck and whatever.”
Sam was ignoring him by now and banging on the door. Mercedes was on the other side, looking at herself in the mirror and going over her vows. The bridesmaids had left to give her a few moments alone. When she heard the frantic knocking, she furrowed her eyebrows and walked over to the door as quickly as she could.
“What is it?” She pressed a hand against the door, waiting for a response and hoping nothing went wrong with the wedding plans.
“It’s me,” Sam responded rather quietly, pressing his own hand against the door as if he knew. Puck sighed and stepped back down the hall, picking up right away that they’d want privacy.
“Sam? What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I needed to hear your voice. I was…I was really freaking out. I got scared for a minute. I need to know you were still here,” he explained, closing his eyes and curling his fingers against the wooden door.
“There’s nothing to be scared about, Sammy.” She smiled to herself, picturing his worried features and puffy lips from constant biting. “This is going to be one of the most memorable days of our life. The day when I’m no longer just Mercedes, but I’m your Mercedes. Forever. And you’re mine. We’re finally at that point where there’s no BS or stupid reasoning not to be together. You don’t have to worry about being good enough for me anymore because today you’ll know for sure when I say I do. And I’ll mean it with all my heart. I won’t have to worry about feeling insecure or losing you because I’ll know when you say those words back. So calm down. This is our day,” she told him, her eyes watering slightly at the realization that she was marrying the boy she’d been crazy about since high school.
Sam sucked in a breath and blinked repeatedly, staring at the door as if he could see her through it.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Sammy. Now go take your place.”
“So… you don’t have any experience…” Mercedes said, looking at the resume in her hands. The tall blonde sat in the chair across from her in the kitchen, tapping his foot and chewing at his lip, clearly nervous.
“Well…sort of,” he responded. She wasn’t really sure how he scored this interview with her, considering she’d seen professional nannies for this job who’d been taking care of celebrity kids for years. He was…well, she wasn’t sure what he was.
Not really sure what lesson was learned here, but yay practice!
Mercedes froze when the lights in the unfamiliar kitchen flickered to life, her eyes wide at the sight of a blond guy in an X-Men t-shirt in the doorway. He visibly relaxed a little, probably assuming the house was being broken into by thugs.
“Um…hi!” she greeted, laughing nervously. His expression remained the same: hard.
“What are you doing in my house?”