Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot to this story and my OCs. The rest all belongs to Ryan Murphy, Ian Brennan, Brad Falchuk, the various songwriters, and to the writers of any joke that may not be mine.
There's an old saying, those who cannot do, teach, and those who cannot date, match make. At least, that's how Mercedes Jones always saw things. Her relationships, if you could call them that, had always gone up in flames. So, she decided she would take her plethora of Oprah-style advice to help the other unlucky in love students at McKinley High. She was able to help everyone except the one person she cared about the most: Kurt Hummel.
She knew that she had no chance with Kurt, she had come to terms with that a long time ago, but that didn't mean that her brilliant skills as a matchmaker couldn't be used to help her best friend. The only problem: Finding a gay man Kurt's age in Lima, Ohio was next to impossible.
Mercedes knew that there was only one way to find a suitable other for her boy. She had to go to the one person who had all the answers to the private lives of the people of Lima. She had to go to Jack Harmon.
Mercedes didn't understand the reason why Jack was so insistent she wear a cowl over her head. It wasn't like he remembered her name or that she didn't know where he lived. Still, it was the only way she could get an audience with him. Mercedes felt as if she was being dragged through a twisted version of the halls of the Emerald City. That moment in the movie before Dorothy and the others entered the throne room of the Wizard of Oz. All in all, it seemed sort of appropriate considering what she was going to ask him.
Mercedes was led into what she believed to be the basement, now wishing she had brought Quinn with her. The blonde seemed to have an effect on Harmon that kept him from doing something stupid.
"You do know that I'm going down here, right?" she asked the man leading her into the room.
The man laughed. "Don't worry. Jackie may be a little intimidating, but he's really harmless."
'Jackie?' Mercedes thought to herself, trying not to laugh. "And you know this for sure?"
"I'm his father," Kristopher Harmon said. "I've known him his whole, he'd never kill anyone."
He removed the cowl.
"That I know of," he said, that didn't help Mercedes' nerves.
She craned her head around, hoping to see some glimmer of sarcasm on Mr. Harmon's face. He was smiling. Not an evil smile that she was use to seeing from his son, but a very calm, reassuring smile.
"Plus," Mr. Harmon said, "I've taken away almost all of his immobilizing weapons. So, you're safe."
"Please tell me you're kidding about that," Mercedes replied.
Mr. Harmon chuckled nervously before turning and heading up the steps. The door closed behind, causing the young woman to jump. She almost cleared the ceiling when a hand came out of the shadows, gripping her shoulders.
"Calm down, Buick," Jack Harmon said, his hands up in a defensive position. "It's just me."
"Don't ever do that to me again," the girl said, resisting the urge to knock Jack on his rear end.
"Do what?" Jack asked.
"Never mind," Mercedes growled. "Can we please just get this over with so I can get out of here?"
Jack seemed poised to make a snide remark, but stopped himself, looking at Mercedes quizzically. He turned on his meticulously polished heels, his hand gesturing for her to follow him. Mercedes moved cautiously through the basement room, unsure of what to expect from the club's second most egocentric member. Of course, she never said that out loud, knowing he would only get worse to outdo Rachel.
"Mind the mess," she heard him say, "I live here."
The lights clicked on and Mercedes looked around the room. No Middle Age torture devices, no bodies hanging from the walls. This was not the setup she thought she'd see upon entering the room. Still, it was nice.
The walls were cluttered by posters of various Broadway musicals, what looked like a shrine to the group, Queen, and a massive bulletin board that took up the wall behind the piano. It was covered by papers that had names, dates, and miscellaneous information that would have intrigued her if it hadn't been so damned creepy.
"So," Jack said, taking a seat at the piano. "What is it you want from me?"
His long leg moved across the room, pushing a chair in front of Mercedes. She sat down gingerly, remembering the hobby he had of placing soda filled whoopee-cushions on chairs.
"It's perfectly safe," Jack said. "The chairs were given to me by my late grandmother; I wouldn't risk upsetting the pattern with a crass prank."
"So you do have a heart?" Mercedes asked, smirking at him. "I guess this will make what I'm going to ask easier."
Jack's expression altered ever so slightly, his eyebrow arched at the mention of the word "heart", the other soon joining its twin at mention of the word "easier."
"Normally, I would become extremely obstinate when someone makes the inference that anything come from me comes easy," Jack stated. "However, you mentioned that love was involved when we talked earlier today. So, I'll let that slide for just bit."
"Have you noticed how everyone in the group seems to be pairing off?" Mercedes asked. "You know, Rachel's with Finn, Puck is with Quinn," she saw Jack bristle at that statement, "Artie and Tina…"
"I get it," Jack cut her off. "People are pairing up. What's your point?"
"But, I don't think I've done enough," she noticed that Jack's features were softening. "I wanna help Kurt…"
"You want to ask me if I know any gay guys Kurt's age," Jack asked, sitting back in his chair. "Unless, of course, I'm reading to deeply into your body language and tone of voice."
'Wow,' Mercedes thought. 'This guy's good.'
"Well, if that's the case, Mercury," Jack said. "I'd have to say…" he paused for dramatic effect, "go fly a kite and get tangled up in power lines."
Mercedes' eyes went wider than their usual size at this response.
'Oh, no, he didn't…' she thought. 'He did not just…"
"And before you go all Madea on my ass," he said. "I should tell you my reason as to why I will not help you."
Mercedes watched Jack as he folded his legs and leaned forward.
"You offered nothing to me in return," he said. "That wouldn't be prudent of me, now would it?"
"What do you want?" Mercedes asked.
"Oh, Mazda, what I want you could never give," he said. "But, since you're the closet to my problem, and you've come to this odd conclusion that you have some magic power to help find love, I need to know one thing."
Mercedes did not have time to react as Jack sprang to his feet; his mouth only inches away from her ear, and whispered something. She let him move away before she finally spoke.
"What makes you think you'll like what I tell you?"
"I never like what you tell me. Part of the reason why I never listen," Jack replied.
"Have you ever tried being yourself?" Mercedes suddenly realized what she had said. "Have you tried being less like you?"
"I'm not asking for it to happen like that," he said, snapping his fingers. "I just need to know what she likes, what she needs. A clue. I can figure out the rest from there."
"So, Jack "Can't Remember my Name" Harmon actually wants my help?"
"That's part of the reason why I let you come here," Jack said. "You honestly thought I cared about who Carson Kressley was screwing?"
He started to laugh.
"Before you ask, I know everything," he said, knowing her next question.
"Not everything," Mercedes replied smugly getting a nasty glare from Jack.
Jack turned away from her and walked to a filing cabinet. He thumbed through his files, pulling out a thin folder. He placed it on the piano, removing a picture.
"He's a friend of mine," Jack said. "One fault is I met him at a Jonas Brothers concert."
"What were you doing at a Jonas Brothers concert?" Mercedes asked.
"My little cousins dragged me there. I figured I could have fun heckling the two older ones," Jack said. "The younger one is okay."
He handed Mercedes the picture. She examined it, somehow, in Lima, Ohio, Jack had located a teenage version of Jared Padalecki.
"He's perfect," she said, titling her head and looking at the boy's deep blue eyes.
The white boy was definitely cute. Kurt would love him.
"He's gay as Hummer," Jack said. "I mean, he's more like a Nathan Lane like gay than a Mardi Gras parade, but I think Kressley'll like him."
Mercedes stood up, Jack pushing the file to her.
"You'll need it," he said. "Now, give me something I can work with."
Mercedes growled. 'Definitely shoulda brought Blondie with me.'
"She likes pirates," Mercedes finally said. "And no, that is not permission for you to dress up like a pirate, swing in from a rope, and steal her from her boyfriend."
Jack bit his lip.
"What would give you the idea that I would do something like that?"
"Because I know you."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Well played, Chrysler."
"Mercedes," she said. "My name is Mercedes."
Mercedes bit her lower lip. She decided it was better for her to leave with the file before he changed his mind.
Getting Kurt to meet Sam proved far easier than Mercedes thought it would be. Boy must be desperate. Of course, that meant that her record that remained untouched. Of course, now she had two things to do on her list: Find the Thunder to her Effie and keep Jack from doing something crazy to win the girl of her dreams. To be honest, the first thing seemed more likely to happen.
A/N: And another one shot is done. To be honest, I don't think it's one of my stronger works, still I think it works in the context.
Also, I'm sorry if I didn't write Mercedes correctly. I'm a skinny white boy with no grasp of how to write a soulful black character. So, you're sort of stuck with an awkward combination of both. Once again, I'm sorry.