Title: Holding On Is Letting Go
Author: bana05
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Mercedes Jones/Sam Evans
Spoilers: Entirety of Glee S5
Disclaimer: Glee ain't mine, unfortunately; otherwise, Mercedes would have a harem and Grammys already.
Summary: Sometimes letting go is the best way to hold on.
Author's notes: As Samcedes and Glee Season 5 ends, so too does "So June"! Thanks so much for reading/reviewing! Please forgive any errors and enjoy!

There always seemed to be a celebration of some sort every time Mercedes and Sam ended things; and then she had to laugh there was even an "every time". However, this "time", though, didn't feel nearly as oppressive or even as final as the first two, and she suspected that had much to do with them behaving like they hadn't ended at all. They still touched: little caresses here, hand squeezes there, cuddles and snuggles that clung just as tightly as ever. The others would throw wistful looks their way, but Mercedes ignored them. She'd heeded their concerns and let Sam go, but she still had one more night to hold him close.

The Farewell/Happy Birthday, Sam! Party they'd held in the Hummelberry loft had ended thirty minutes ago, but Mercedes and Sam were the only ones returning to the brownstone. Brittany decided to sleep in Artie's dorm since he was going to show her some of the film he'd been editing and how long would it be before she saw him again? She'd meet Mercedes at the brownstone tomorrow morning to go to the airport together, her bags already packed since she'd lived out of her luggage for the past two weeks. And Blaine decided he'd be there to console Kurt over Mercedes' departure, which Mercedes thought was a pile of BS and she'd given Blaine a huge, long hug over his consideration.

The subway ride was quiet between them; and although there were plenty of seats in the car, Mercedes and Sam opted to curl around a pole and each other. His chin rested on top of her head and his fingers curled and relaxed into her shirt at the base of her spine. She would nuzzle her cheek against his heart every now and again and squeeze her arms about his trim waist, needing to feel as much of him as she could until she couldn't touch him anymore. They let their breathing sync and their embrace say what words might miss.

When they reached their stop, Sam tangled their fingers together and led the way out of the car. Once reaching the street, Mercedes hugged his right arm and rested her head against his strong biceps as they continued on to the brownstone. There were a few cars on the road, a few shouts of excited revelers even though it was a Wednesday night/Thursday morning. Sam vocalized a beat, tapping his left fingers against his thighs, and Mercedes sighed. She'd miss this. She'd miss New York, how it smelled like trash and international foods and Sam's body wash. She'd miss all the concrete and asphalt and Sam's flannel shirts and boyish grin. She'd miss car honks and cusses and Sam's humming video game soundtracks as he prepared for bed. She'd miss how it could feel claustrophobic because of all the people and tightly packed buildings yet so safe and secure when Sam wrapped his arms around her. She'd miss how there was a taste of exhaust and metal and hotdog and pretzels in the air and how Sam still favored cherry lip balm because she still did.

Mercedes unlocked the door to the brownstone. Suitcases lay in wait at the bottom of the stairs. Both she and Sam spared them a brief glance before looking at each other. He appeared so downcast, his usually bright green eyes dull, mouth sunken, cheeks tight against the bones of his face. Mercedes cupped his jaw and he leaned into her grasp, wrapping a hand about her waist to pull her in closer.

"Can I hold you tonight?" he asked.

She kissed his stubbled jaw and nodded.

She preceded Sam up the stairs, his steps loud to her ears, heavy and final, like an inevitability that couldn't be avoided despite best attempts. They both saw to their toilet individually; but when Sam reappeared, putting on his sleep shirt as he did, he froze as soon as his head cleared the neck.

Mercedes was wearing very little, a camisole that couldn't disguise the fact she wasn't wearing a bra and shorts that were barely longer than underwear. She saw him visibly swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing. His eyes roamed her body, creating sparks along her skin wherever his eyes touched, and she grinned at him a little.

"Can you take your shirt off? And your pants?"

"Yeah," he said. "But, what are you doin'?"

She shrugged. "I want to hold you with as little between us as possible, if that's all right?"

He nodded. "Okay."

She took a deep breath as he disrobed, her eyes never leaving his. When he was down to only his boxer-briefs, Mercedes rose onto her knees and held out her hands to him. He grasped them, climbing upon the bed until they were both kneeling. Mercedes squeezed his fingers and he quirked a smile at her.

"Thank you for such a great birthday party."

"Thank you for such an amazing farewell party."

"Mercedes?"

"Yes?"

"I really hate sayin' goodbye to you."

She nodded and lifted their hands, kissing his knuckles. "I hate it too."

He exhaled slowly and tightened his fingers around hers. "What if we don't get another chance? What if…I meet someone? What if you do? You say I'm gonna be with other girls like it's a given. But what if some guy comes along, all established and good looking and could take you out and spoil you the way I never could. What then, Mercedes? Or what if…like with Finn…"

His voice had broken on the name, and Mercedes squeezed her eyes shut at the very real possibilities of all the scenarios. She clasped their hands to her chest. Just the thought of losing Sam so permanently—either through marriage to someone else or death—had each beat of her heart aching as if it were ramming futilely against a brick wall.

"Are we making a mistake?" she gasped out, panicked. "Am I not believing in us enough?"

He bit his bottom lip and shook his head, tightening his fingers around hers. "Our relationship is like McConaughey. We wouldn't be able to have it or enjoy it the way we want right now, even though I know we belong together. You're off to do amazin' things, and I still have to figure out my next steps. And honestly? As much as I love you, Mercedes I'm gonna need to offer you more than that if I'm to be your husband."

"That's all I need," Mercedes promised, but Sam smiled and shook his head again, kissing her forehead.

"Love is the foundation," Sam said. "And we have a pretty big one there, but there's so much more. You deserve so much more."

"So do you," Mercedes insisted.

He exhaled slowly and showed a wry grin, resting his forehead against hers. "You know why I had marriage on the brain so much this go around? Because you are everything I could ever want my wife to be. You support me. You encourage me. You make me laugh. You frustrate me somethin' fierce! But you love me even more fiercely. You protect me, comfort me, shelter me, feed me—both literally and spiritually. You make me better. It's no surprise my model dream came true with you by my side. You're all of God's blessings, Mercedes Jones, and my next dream is to make you an Evans someday."

Mercedes buried her face into his neck, unlinking their hands to hold him flush against her. She was too overwhelmed to cry, his words sounding like vows and affirmations of a future. When Sam set his mind to something, there was little anyone or anything could do to keep him from it. She should know—she had multiple firsthand experience of his dogged pursuit. But the stakes were higher now. Forever was on the line.

She'd never wanted him to succeed at anything more in her entire life.

"I'm not ready to be anyone's husband, Mercedes, not even yours—especially not yours," Sam continued, large hands now caressing her back soothingly. "But when I am, I'm gonna do this right. I'm gonna do right by you, Mercedes Jones. Next time we get together, ain't nobody breakin' us up but the Grim Reaper."

His speech had gotten more relaxed and drawling the more he spoke, but it wasn't with the slur of sleep. Passion had infused his voice, the conviction of what he was saying so powerful even Mercedes trembled from it.

"I want to feel you," she whispered against the pulse point in his neck. "I need to."

He held her tighter.

"No," she said, pulling back. "I mean feel you."

The confusion scrunching his face transformed to shock when Mercedes whipped her camisole off to reveal her nude torso. Her nerves being what they were, she immediately pressed herself into him again and squeezed her eyes shut, exhaling slowly when his arms settled about her waist.

"You didn't have to do that, Mercedes."

She nodded against his heart. "Yeah, I did. I'm not ready for sex, still," she maintained. "But I can't leave without you knowing how much I love and trust you. And I can't have you be so vulnerable to me and not even attempt to be vulnerable too."

He tangled his fingers into her hair at the base of her neck, massaging her. She relaxed under his ministrations and stroked his flanks in return. This wasn't so bad. It was actually comforting to feel his warm skin against hers. He was firm, solid, security made flesh. Why did it take her leaving him to find this courage?

"Mercedes?"

"Yes?"

"Can I love you like this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Can I express my love for you without any clothes on? I know you're not ready for sex, and I respect that. But remember what you did for me? After the candles…can I do that for you?"

Mercedes pressed herself harder into Sam's chest, taking his request to her heart. After the candles was the only time she'd touched him in that way, primarily because Sam wouldn't let her do so again until he could return the favor. She hadn't been comfortable doing so, not trusting herself or her body's reactions around him, and part of her could even admit she was scared he wouldn't find her pleasing. She knew intellectually that fear had no root in reality, but her man was a model surrounded by gorgeous women all the time. She couldn't compete with that. However, that wasn't on Sam. That was on her.

"I still leave in the morning, Sam," she reminded him.

"I know," he replied. "But you're here now, and I want to love you. Will you let me?"

"Won't this just make it harder for us to say goodbye?"

"Maybe," he said with a shrug. "But at least we'll have one last great memory before we do."

She smiled, and then it morphed into a naughty grin. "That confident are we, Mr. Evans?"

He smiled in return and cradled her face in his hands. "In my ability to love you? Absolutely. I'm always certain about that."

Closing her eyes, Mercedes pressed long kisses into the heels of his hands. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes," she said, nervous, yet anticipating.

Whatever she thought he'd do next, resting his forehead against hers hadn't been it. It was as if he were breathing her in, and Mercedes remained still to let him get his fill. But when moments passed and he still didn't move, she grew anxious and shifted her weight from one knee to the other.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. "I'm just thinkin', that if you decide not to wait anymore and I'm not the one to—"

"Shh," Mercedes soothed, stroking his muscular back. "We have a deal, don't we?"

"Yeah, but I thought you'd be my first, and you weren't," Sam said, though there was no censure. "Life has a tendency to fuck with plans."

"I'm sorry," she said, her throat closing on the tears her aching heart was shedding. "I wish I'd been your first too."

"I'm just, you know, dealin' with possibilities right now," Sam murmured. "Like, I know I'll care for you and cherish you if your first time is with me; but I reckon if that can't be, you should know how you should feel before you have that with someone else."

She pulled back and framed his face in her hands now. "Did you feel cared for and cherished your first time?" His responding shrug sent tears down her cheeks and he brushed them away with his thumbs. "Oh, my baby…"

"It's all right—"

"It's not!" Mercedes growled, tearing now but with rage instead of sadness. "Dammit, Sam! I'm just—just so angry! How could—? My sweet Sammy—!"

He hugged her, whispering nonsense atop her head, but she vibrated with a fury so strong she thought the bed shook underneath her. Now she understood why he'd said it would be a first time for him too. Nobody had yet to make love to him.

"I love you," she whispered against his heart. "And I'm sorry—"

"It's not your fault."

"Why can't I be ready? I want to be ready for you. Why?"

"You need forever." He squeezed her. "And we're not there yet. But if you do change your mind about that, make sure you are really ready, okay? I don't care how much you love that person. If he respects you and loves you, he'll wait."

"Same for you, Sam," Mercedes said, pulling back to look into his green eyes. He closed them and clenched his jaw, a tear sliding down his cheek, and she kissed it away. "You are wonderful and loving and deserve to have someone cherish you for you, not just for the body you have."

He nodded, clenching his jaw harder. "Nobody's gonna love me like you do."

"No, they won't," Mercedes agreed, "but that doesn't mean someone else can't love you just as deeply as I do."

Sam shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Not good enough. They'd have to love me more."

"That's a tall order," she said, arching an eyebrow.

"You set the bar, Miz Jones; I just abide by it."

She giggled at that and he smiled, dipping his head to lightly brush their lips together. She curled her fingers into his hair at his nape, and he held her so closely it was as if he were trying to meld her into him.

"I'm gonna miss these lips," he groaned against her mouth, tugging on her bottom one with his teeth.

"Yours too," she returned. "God, do you know how to kiss…"

He moved those kisses down her neck, sucking the skin over her pulse as his hands slid down her back to grip her bottom. His stubble tickled but Mercedes moaned, arching her back, and whimpered when she felt his hardness burrow into her belly. She felt completely surrounded, groaning at the sensation.

"Sam," she whispered as he kissed her shoulder. He cradled her to him as he coaxed her to lie on her back, keeping them close until they were fully supine. His lips found hers again, and her legs automatically opened to fit him between them.

Sam smelled like summer, bright and vibrant. His touch felt like sunbursts along her skin, and she panted at the heat growing within her. Not even when he pulled back to look at her did she become chilled. The power of his gaze distracted her from everything, including whatever unease she could've felt. And when he stroked her from collarbone to navel, the awe in his eyes made hers soften and fill with more tears.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, voice as tremulous as the hands that caressed her belly. "Baby, you're so beautiful." He sank his face in the curve of her neck and inhaled deeply. "Even your scent is beautiful."

He let his nose follow the path his hands made earlier, but then went below her belly button to band of her shorts and paused. He then looked at her.

"Am I okay so far?"

She nodded, combing her fingers through his hair. "You're perfect."

He gave her his endearing crooked smile, his fingers drifting along the skin right above her shorts. "I'm far from that."

She smirked at him. "So says the model."

"Former model," he corrected, his smile fading as he regarded her seriously. "I saw a lot of hot girls, but they couldn't hold a candle to you. You're my star."

He then kissed the flesh right below her belly button, making her whimper and turn into putty. She space between her legs became damp and sticky, a sensation that she'd become quite familiar with Sam. She wasn't embarrassed or frightened by that now, but she did yelp when his nose pressed against the sensitive button nestled there.

He jerked back immediately. "Sorry! Too much?"

She blinked at the ceiling and shook her head, her hand gripping the pillow above her.

"Are you sure?" he asked, rising so they were face to face again. "I mean it—the minute you're uncomfortable, I stop."

Nodding, Mercedes smoothed her palms along his chest, her thumbs pressing into his nipples so he hissed and groaned. He pulled back and grinned at her.

"You're bein' naughty, Miz Jones."

"Hmm, and here I thought I was just horny."

His eyes darkened. "Horny, huh?"

She shrugged coyly, dragging her palm slowly down his ripped torso. "A hot, nearly naked guy on top of me? A girl gets all tingly."

"Tingly?" Sam repeated, inhaling so deeply his chest and stomach expanded. Feeling his muscles ripple made her moan softly, and he smirked at her. "That make you tingly too?"

"Uh-huh," she replied, letting her hand continue its southward journey to the top of his underwear. Their eyes locked, but her eyelashes fluttered when his hand settled back atop her panties.

"How about if I make you sing too?" he asked, his fingertips edging just underneath the band of her panties. "Would you like that?"

"Only if I can make you harmonize with me," Mercedes answered, her own fingers grazing the hairs hidden behind his boxer-briefs.

Nodding, he kissed her, taking off her shorts before letting his fingers learn the feel and shape of her most secret place. Mercedes grasped his length, reacquainting herself with it. The veins were still there, the head of him slick, the shaft of him thick. He grunted and thrust into her small palm while his digits made a ring around her soft, inner lips.

"You're so wet for me, baby," he whispered into her ear. "How is it you smell like butter pecans?"

She would've answered him if she'd remembered how to talk, but the tingles had overtaken her entire body. Her strokes had no rhythm along his hardness, but Sam's groans and grunts meshed well with her mews and sighs. She turned her face and their lips drifted along each other, but they didn't kiss. Kissing meant closed eyes, and the yearning in Sam's was too compelling to ignore.

"May I slip a finger inside you?" he asked.

"Will it hurt?" she asked.

"I'd never intentionally hurt you," he answered. "And you're so wet; I could probably get two in without any problems."

Mercedes groaned and bucked, making them both hiss. "Saammm…"

"You'd like that?" he asked, pressing his middle and ring finger to her opening. "Two of my fingers inside you? Having you clench around them as if they were my dick? But you know my dick is thicker, don't you? Squeeze me, baby."

She did and he moaned, kissing the corner of her mouth.

"That's my girl," he praised.

"I'll always be your girl, Sam," she promised.

"Mercedes…" He sighed, touching their noses together. "I'm yours forever."

She squeezed him harder at his declaration and opened her legs wider so his fingers could enter her. "Please, babe," she cajoled, undulating her hips to further entice him.

Their lips met as his fingers slid inside of her, and she immediately clamped down around him. They were long, and the sensation of them inside of her made Mercedes gasp with pleasure. There was no pain, just the easy thrusting of Sam's fingers combined with his thumb on her nubbin. How he knew just how to touch her, she'd never know; and his soft moans in her ear as she squeezed and pumped his length spurred her on further.

"Does it feel good?" she asked into his neck, swiping her tongue along his Adam's apple. It bobbed against the muscle, and she suckled upon it, feeling his groan vibrate against her lips. "You feel good," she continued, not waiting for his reply. "You feel so good inside of me, babe."

Sam braced his unoccupied arm next to her head, palming her crown as he lay atop her and thrust into her hand. Their eyes connected, her free hand cupping his cheek. He barely blinked as he rocked his hips, the head of him gliding along her hairs and lower belly, and his face contorted as if in pain before he nipped at the heel of her hand.

"Mercy," he intoned lowly, like a prayer, and she trembled at the reverence of it. Her heart grew heavier, as if all the love she felt for him weighed it down and pumped her blood harder. Feeling bold, she grasped him and brushed the head of him against her knot, causing them both to hiss.

He pulled his hand out of her to grip hers around his member. It was wet and sticky because of her.

"Baby, don't tease me, not with this," he begged.

"I'm sorry," she apologized with a sincere pout, stroking his cheek with her thumb. "I just want to feel you."

He was visibly shaking above her, and she released his length to hold him to her. His weight was substantial and welcome, and he buried his face into her neck. Their bellies kissed as they breathed, and soon their lips followed the same action; but when he began grinding his special place against hers, Mercedes yanked her mouth from his and gasped loudly.

"Oh, my God!" she cried, and Sam's breathless laugh in her ear had her clutching his neck with her small hands and his hips with her thick thighs.

The entire length of him slid against the full length of her, his hairs chafing the insides of her thighs. Her nubbin ached, full enough to burst, as did the rest of her. Eddies of pleasure invaded her entire body, turning her mind to euphoric mush. All she knew was Sam and the love she felt for him.

He kissed her cheek sweetly and linked their damp fingers together, holding them over her head. His eyes caught hers again, full of intensity and purpose, as the middle and ring fingers of his right hand stroked the ring finger of her left in time with his thrusts. She nodded, tears trailing from her eyes, and a corner of his mouth rose before he bent to kiss away her earnest yearnings from her cheeks.

Soon, their hips matched in rhythm and it wasn't long before her body quaked and his breaths escaped in winded gasps.

Their shouts of release echoed in the room, followed by complete silence.

He smiled at her once they settled down from their peaks, smoothing tendrils of her hair from her sweaty forehead with his thumb. The air in the room was thick with their passion; she could almost taste it. She liked it.

She loved him.

Sam kissed the space between her brows and she closed her eyes. "How do you feel?"

"Blessed," she replied, eyes still shut. She stroked his back. "You?"

"Renewed."

She nodded. "Good."

Another moment passed before he left the bed, Sam nuzzling her nose with his when she whimpered at his loss. It wasn't long before he returned, and a warm washcloth settled on her stomach. He pulled the crotch of her panties aside and cleaned her, his focus completely on his task while hers was on him. His tender caress between her thighs had her sighing, and he kissed the hair along her pelvic bone.

"I didn't taste you like I wanted," he said, "but maybe it's for the best. I don't think I'd be able to let you go if I had."

"Think I'd taste like butter pecan?" she asked with a little giggle.

"I think you'd taste like love," he said with a half-smile. After one last caress of the cloth, he returned to the bathroom. Mercedes stood from the bed, legs a little unsteady, and took off her soaked panties to just sleep in her shorts. She was debating whether to put on her camisole again when Sam reappeared, and he came to stand behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist.

"Are you okay?" he asked against the top of her head.

She nodded, deciding to forego the camisole. She liked the feel of his skin against hers. "I need to rinse out my underwear."

"I can do that. My underwear is soaking right now, actually." She made a strangled squeak and he chuckled. "What?"

"You touching my panties!"

"Baby, I just got through touchin' a lot more than that. Hell, I'd rather they not soak at all and you let me keep 'em, to be perfectly honest."

Her cheeks flamed at that. "Sam!"

He palmed her stomach fully and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have told you that."

"Dirty underwear!"

"Your love juices ain't dirty, Mercedes Jones, especially not the ones I cause."

"But, like, what would you do with dir—oh, my God!"

He was laughing hard as he hugged her close and buried his face in her neck.

"Ya nasty!"

Instead of denying it, Sam grasped her chin and turned her face so he could kiss her. She shifted in his hold so they were chest to chest, her nipples grazing his skin as she stood on tiptoes to deepen the kiss. He kept her steady, strong arms bracing her, as his tongue stroked along hers. If she could stand here and kiss him for the rest of her life, it would be a life well lived.

They broke apart with a puff of air, Mercedes still pressed close to him because she couldn't bear to let him go a moment sooner than necessary. "Well, if you're keeping my panties, I should have something from you. Although, I don't think I can wear anything of yours without ripping it."

He side-eyed her. "Are you dissin' this goddess body you got?"

She snorted even as she blushed at his compliment. "No, but you are skinny, with your chicken legs," she teased, smoothing a palm down a slim, yet muscular thigh.

"They're strong chicken legs," he groused, but kissed her nose with a smile. "As for what to give you that's mine? How about my guitar?"

"No."

His eyes widened comically, no doubt surprised by her swift and emphatic refusal. "What? Why?"

"You want to give me an instrument—one that you adore, by the way—that I can't even play?!"

"I adore the guitar and I adore you," Sam said. "Besides, you can learn to play it; and then when you perform, it'll be like I'm right there with you."

As touched as she was, Mercedes still couldn't accept. "That guitar got you through the darkest parts of your life, Sam."

"Yes, so I think it should have some bright days too. Besides, with the Treasure Trailz money, I can get me a new Seagull. Been lookin' at the Entourage for a bit. It's a pretty thing, let me tell you."

Mercedes took his word for it, since she knew little about guitars, and squeezed his waist. "I still don't know how to play."

"I can teach you!" Sam exclaimed, rushing to the far wall where his guitar sat ready in its case. Mercedes slid under the covers on the bed, not wanting to be too exposed though Sam clearly didn't have any problems with it. He tuned the guitar, muttering something about how annoying it was to break in new strings and a sarcastic "Thanks, Rachel!" before climbing onto the bed with his back resting against the headboard.

"Well, come on! Just one quick song, I promise."

As tempted as she was to look at her phone for the time, the brightness in Sam's eyes had her smiling and settling between his legs. She could sleep on the plane.

Sam helped her get into position before setting the guitar in her lap. The wood of it was cool against her breasts and belly compared to the warmth of Sam's chest against her back, but the instrument felt sturdy and solid—much like Sam.

"I have the perfect song I wanna teach you too," he said, strumming a chord. "It's the Beatles. I know you're not their biggest fan, but they wrote some pretty awesome songs for guitar."

"You're really giving this to me?" Mercedes asked.

"Yes," he said. "You already have my heart, which is my love. This guitar has been my hope and my light. There's nobody else I'd trust more with it, actually."

She scrunched her face, peering at him. "You give me something lovely and sentimental like a guitar and you get a pair of damp panties? My spirit isn't sitting right with that!"

Sam arched an eyebrow and smirked at her. "What are you talkin' about? You left me a whole damn album about how you feel for me. Like I don't know Park and Bark is one big ole love letter to one Samson Evans. Girl, please!"

She glared at him, both at him affecting one of her speech patterns and for calling her out. "Some of those songs were written when we weren't even together!"

"We're not together now and you still love me," he replied with a definitive strum on the guitar. "Ha!"

She sputtered out a laugh, unable to maintain her faux outrage. "Boy! What am I gonna do with you?"

"Learn this here song, little lady," he said in an exaggerated country-western drawl. "It's called 'And I Love Her'. Because I do."

With his hair-roughened cheek pressed to hers and his chin on her shoulder, Sam taught her the simple, yet poignant song. Just as the sky started brightening through the window, Mercedes strummed the song while Sam's voice glided along its lyrics. He'd even recorded it on his phone, the first time capturing a few bum guitar notes, her whispered curses, and his chortles. But the second, although a little stilted, was mistake free.

He kissed her cheek. "Soon as I get my new Seagull, we'll have Skype guitar lessons, how about that?"

"I love it," she said, kissing his lips. "I love you, Sam."

"I love you, too, Mercedes."

Sam left the bed to pack up the guitar and when he returned, he curled an arm around Mercedes' bare waist to have her lie atop him.

"I gotta be up in like two hours, Sam," she said on a yawn.

"Well, that gives me two hours to hold you until who knows," Sam said against her temple. "I plan to make the most of it."

Mercedes didn't argue the point, merely snuggling into his body. He linked their fingers together, pressing a kiss to their knuckles, then set their joined hands atop his heart. She promised herself no tears when they said goodbye. She'd treat this parting as a "to be continued" instead of a finality.

She grinned then, because that was exactly what this was. Their story wasn't finished. They had many pages to write after this.

However—

"Uh, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Those plans better not include a marriage proposal."

"I make no promises."