Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing of Glee

A/N: As always I have to give a shout out to my lovely beta Jill!


Happy Birthday Mr. President

Summary: When the world around him is making way for the political showdown of the century, Sam Evans learns the value of standing his ground and compromise.

For the first time in his adult life Sam Evans wagered that he was experiencing true happiness—though that was probably because he had just handed out a 10 page research paper to his class of 23. There was nothing better than watching his students moan and groan.

"C'mon guys, you're all at least 20 years old," Sam told his students. "One 10 paged, double spaced paper that analyzes any trend in any form literature over the last 20 years from any country in southeast Africa isn't that bad. Just remember keep it in 12 Times New Roman and anyone who puts their periods in 14 will be re-writing the paper by hand on college ruled paper."

Sam chuckled as he watched some faces drop and then promptly dismissed his class. He was already pushing it to make his train. As Sam made his way to his office to drop off a few things, he quickly responded to a text from his mother asking what time he'd be in D.C. that evening. The office hadn't changed much since he officially obtained his PhD. His desk was still a cluttered mess with various papers to grades, books to read, and pictures of his friends and family. There were no longer any photographs of his extended family. As his mother had predicted, Ronald Evans had refused to support Sam if continued with his relationship with Mercedes, though he was "kind" enough to give the offer of accepting him back into the family if he gave her up. Sam told his grandfather that while he still loved him, he shouldn't bother holding his breath. He ended up leaving the guitar that his grandfather had given him as a child at the family's estate in Kentucky and bought himself a new one once he'd returned to the city. To replace the old pictures Sam had added a few more shots of Blaine and Kurt and of course the lovely Mercedes Jones, including one where she was sporting new hardware on her left hand.

"Alright Martha," Richard Evans said suddenly over dinner one night. "I think it's high time that you gave it up."

It had been almost two years since their families came together over dinner. Two years since Sam had become a regular Sunday night visitor at the Jones' dinner table and Mercedes a regular at the Evans estate on Wednesday evenings. Two years and still Martha Evans and her husband always managed to surprise the young couple.

"Richard please stop talking before I start treating you the way Irene does when her husband steps a toe out of line," Martha said coolly.

"Martha he's right," Dwight Evans added.

"I'm sorry Dwight you joined this conversation because?" Martha replied.

"Guys," Mary said as her children, Stevie and Stacie, perked up to watch their aunt take on their father and his older brother.

"Well it's my gift. I'll give it when I feel like it," Martha announced.

"I just love it when they talk as if we're not sitting over here," Sam cut in.

"Well, that's being going on for at least the past fifteen years. One would think—"

"Martha," Mary interrupted. "Just give it to her."

"Fine," Martha said. "Ms. Jones will you follow me please? Mary you might as well come along so Mercedes can be sure that I don't try to harm her."

"Well Daniel has already given me the full tour," Mercedes said as she stood. "I know where all the secret exits are located."

"I'm sure you'll find that useful," Martha said dryly as she led the two women away.

She took them to the second floor parlor and had Mercedes sit down in the chair closest to the grandfather clock.

"Now despite popular belief," Martha began, "I'm actually not one for dramatics—"

"Bullshit," Mary Evans said behind a cough.

Martha shot Mary a side look before telling Mercedes, "As I was saying, I believe it's about time that I gave you this."

She handed Mercedes an ornate wooden box that had the Evans family seal carved onto the top. Inside of the box was a thick roped silver bracelet with an 'M' and 'E' charm hanging from it.

"The matriarchs of this family have been passing down versions of this bracelet for over a century. One letter for the first letter of the first name and the second of course for the name that we all share," Mary explained.

"It's typically given at weddings but since I know that Sam is going to ignore my wishes about not having a 2016 ceremony I figured that I should give this to you before I lose my good mood," Martha added.

"Sam hasn't even proposed yet," Mercedes reminded her.

"Evans men are notorious for short engagements," Mary said.

"Do you really think the election will be that bad Mrs. Evans?" Mercedes asked.

"I just think election year in general is a headache," she replied lightly.

"Well thank you Mary…Mrs. Evans," Mercedes smiled letting the bracelet catch the light.

"You know when you two do get married, you're going to have to call me Martha," the older woman said. "Or better yet Mrs. Martha, I don't like you that much."

"You're never going to make it easy are Martha?" Mary sighed.

"Wouldn't be nearly as fun if I did," Mary smiled as she made her way out of the parlor.

Sam was just glad that two of the most important women in his life were getting along. They still disagreed and his mother gave Mercy a hard time whenever possible, but it was less about spite and more about humor. Mercedes could take a few jokes at her own expense for the sake of keeping things calm between the two families. Lord knows that Sam took hits every time he and Rashad were in the same room.

Sam made it to the New Rochelle Amtrak station just before the doors closed. As he made his way to the Business class seats, he came across the warm smile of Quinn Fabray.

"Well hello there stranger," she greeted. "Mercedes mentioned that you'd probably take the train into D.C."

"You're going to the birthday bash too?" Sam asked.

"No," Quinn replied. "I'm getting off at Grand Central but I figured that it would be a good chance for us to catch up."

"So I can tell you how un-amused I am by the fact that now everyone has met this mystery girl except me?" Sam huffed.

"She's not a mystery girl Sam. You've seen plenty of pictures," Quinn blushed. "Plus you two have chatted over the phone. You're practically best friends now!"

When Quinn had mentioned Lyra Haywood in a passing six months after the reunion two years ago, Sam just knew. The two women were just friends at the time, but Sam could just see a small spark in Quinn that seemed to ignite as the years passed. Lyra brought good energy for Quinn. Sam couldn't certainly give her all of the credit. After Rachel ran off to marry Finn, Quinn moved out of her parent's home and fell into photography after she started volunteering at an art gallery in Harlem. She had just finished an 18 month certification program at a local art school in the city was trying to jumpstart her own photography business.

"I heard some interesting news last night," Quinn began.

"Oh dear God," Sam groaned. "Don't tell me he tapped you too! Dad already convinced Blaine, that traitor. I don't need you joining the Dark Side along with him."

Quinn simply smiled at her friend. "If you're talking about Wilkins' job offer then you should relax. I'm not going to tell you all the different reasons of why you should join Wilkins' campaign and for the record, your father didn't tell me about that one, Mercedes did."

"I do my father one favor—write just a few speeches for him and now he's trying to everyone, even my girlfriend…the daughter of his political rival, to convince me that I should join Wilkins' campaign!"

"Now I know for a fact that you're not getting any pressure from Mercedes," Quinn said, "but you can't really blame everyone else."

"I'm not interested in politics," Sam argued.

"You're also not interested in William Jones becoming President of the United States," Quinn brought up.

"Of course I'm not! I'm going to be his son-in-law soon. Who wants to ask the President of the United States to marry their daughter?"

"I'm not judging you for your reasons," Quinn laughed, "but don't come crying to me when the Jones' residence address changes. Besides, you're already taking off for the spring and summer semesters."

"To focus on my book, not the polls," Sam said.

"You've been slaving over this book for over a year now and you're still in the same place. You need a healthy distraction. Besides, you'd be working in conjunction with the communications department and policy team, which is a great jumpstart to Director of Speechwriting."

"One fucking favor," Sam groaned as Quinn laughed.

"I said I won't tell you what to do and I'm going to stand by that," Quinn said. "Do what makes you happy Sam, though this conversation wasn't what I was originally talking about."

"Oh?"

"Rachel Berry called me last night," Quinn told Sam. "She's getting a divorce from Finn. Actually he threw her out. He knows everything."

"Everything? Holy shit," Sam said. "How?"

"I don't know the specifics of it all," Quinn answered. "She was still pretty upset when she called, but Finn Hudson is planning on wiping his hands of Rachel Berry and he's telling everyone everything."

Quinn pulled out a copy of the Roll Call newspaper, a daily of DC. On one side of the column there was a picture of Rachel under the caption: Republican Princess Unveiled.

"There's a full page article in the back," Quinn continued. "Apparently Finn's rival for that congressman's seat got pretty nasty and the other side found out about Rachel's rendezvous with women and tried to use it against Finn as a means to make him fold. I guess Finn decided that he'd rather crucify her."

"Well precious Finnegan hasn't been the most loyal doting husband either," Sam frowned. "Remember Boca Raton?"

"I know and I told Rachel that and she now wants to countersue for defamation of character," Quinn said.

"Jesus, that's going to get nasty real quick, isn't it?" Sam sighed. "I'd hate to be an attorney in the middle of that shit storm."

"She wants me to come back to D.C.," Quinn said to Sam. "Rachel wants me to stand by her, to help her."

Sam stared aghast at Quinn until she pressed him to say whatever was on his mind.

"Tell her no," Sam nearly shouted. "Fuck no! I feel for Rachel Berry, I really do, but fuck her feelings! She had ample time to turn her shit around. Nobody forced her to marry Finn Hudson. Even after the reunion you still tried to go back and talk to her. She chose this fate and I'll be damned if I let you screw up a good healthy relationship with Lyra over some Rachel Berry tears. I'll even help Santana go all Lima Heights Adjacent or whatever the hell Santana likes to say when she's about to take someone to the damn carpet. I'll even send Jeff Sterling in there with his fucking eidetic memory to go find Rachel's social security number and give to Blaine to fuck her up before I co-sign you going to DC for her. No Quinn. Hell to the no."

"Okay Sam I get it," Quinn said before he could go on.

"Sorry, I think I was channeling a little bit of Mercedes there at the end but simply no," Sam said. "No, no definitely not."

"Thank you for reminded me how much of a nerd you really are," Quinn teased. "Are you sure you're not gay?"

"Hey I know you saw the movie; you heard JT-liking Harry Potter does not make you gay!"

The two of them chuckled for a few minutes before Quinn sobered up to tell him the rest.

"I told Rachel no," she admitted. "Lyra was right there with me when she called. While what we have may be relatively new, it's still means too much to me to let go of right now. I can't be down there in DC with Rachel and keep moving forward with Lyra."

Sam, who was ready to break out into the hallelujah chorus, simply nodded and smiled.

"I'm glad you're doing this for you Que," Sam told her. "Now when am I getting my face to face with the lovely Lyra?"

Dusk was starting to fall in DC by the time Sam made it into Union Station. It didn't take long to spot the stretch limo waiting for him outside. Inside, Blaine Anderson, still dapper as ever was just getting off of the phone when Sam slid in.

"You come to your senses yet?" Blaine asked as he tucked away his Blackberry.

"I can't believe you'd betray me like this," Sam sighed.

"Stop looking at this as a betrayal and see it as an opportunity."

"But you know that I don't want anything to do with politics."

"Says the guy who argued for two hours straight last spring about how Wilkins' platform and strategies were far more superior to VanHusen…who I publicly backed!" Blaine argued. "Sam, I'm not saying that you have to dive into a life of politics like your father, but you can't tell me that you wouldn't be good at this."

"Speechwriting is a completely different game," Sam reminded his friend.

"I understand that," Blaine said, "but we both know that you can do this. I just don't want to see you waste a good opportunity just because we spent our youths trying to revolt against our parents' demands and expectations."

"Can we drop this conversation before I get the urge to falcon punch you in the throat?" Sam frowned.

"Fine, you big baby," Blaine relented. "What's going on with you and this ring?"

"It won't be tonight—"

"Jesus Christ Sam!"

"I have to ask her father first," Sam cut in. "Good grief, Burt Hummel was right. You are a kindergartener!"

"High school graduate asshole," Blaine corrected. "Kurt says hello by the way. We'll all have to catch up later."

"You're not coming to the President's birthday party?" Sam asked.

"Besides the fact that I refuse to be in the room with that many Democrats, Mr. Hummel-Anderson and I are taking a red-eye flight to Prague tonight," Blaine explained.

"You do like saying that don't you?"

"Yes, Mr. soon-to-be-Mercedes-Jones, I do," Blaine smirked.

Blaine Anderson-Hummel was a smug bastard but Sam couldn't really blame him with the year he'd been having. After the photographs of Kurt and Blaine had been released, Levi Anderson was quick to drop his son from the company, so Kurt and Blaine decided to take some time off. They traveled the world for a while. When they returned, Blaine put his energy in support the legal side of Kurt's fashion endeavors all the way, watching as the stocks of Anderson Incorporated plummeted in a stabilizing stock market. It had taken a little over a year before the Head of the Board of Directors came to Blaine asking for him to return. And Blaine Anderson being the pretentious asshole that he is said no—not until Levi stepped down as CEO and personally asked Kurt's permission for him to come back. Sam had been floored when Blaine first told him of his demands. However, even he had to admit that it had been a sweet sight to watch the great Levi Anderson ask his future son-in-law if he could convince his heir to return to Anderson Incorporated. Blaine had thought that Kurt should have at least made the man get on his knees and crawl, to which Sam agreed as it would have been quite the sight. However, Kurt wasn't a fan of cruelty. Within a year of Blaine's return, Anderson Incorporated had reasserted itself as a financial giant, obtaining new investors and vendors and Blaine had decided to celebrate his success by putting a gold band on Kurt's left hand. It hadn't been easy—Kurt argued for waiting until marriage equality existed in all fifty states. But as usual, Blaine managed to weasel his way, agreeing to a re-commitment ceremony once gay marriage was nationally legal and a $7500 donation to GLADD.

"Kurt wants to adopt," Blaine announced as the neared the penthouse he shared with Kurt.

"And what does Daddy Blaine think?" Sam asked.

"That he's not exactly cut out to be a father," Blaine answered honestly.

"Well lucky for you, being an asshole is only a genetic thing," Sam teased. "Nothing you can pass on to an adoptive child. Plus for what it's worth, I think you'd make a great dad. Just don't adopt any girls. I shudder to think what you'd do to the poor kid she'd have a crush on, or worse try to bring home."

"Like you'd be much better!" Blaine threw back.

"That's probably true. How about we both agree to aid this world's overpopulation crisis by raising boys?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Blaine replied as the car came to a stop. "They're outnumbered by women 2 to 1 anyway. Try not to break anything in the apartment."

"You know we've been best friends for as long as I can remember," Sam frowned, "and every time I come over, you still say that. I was the best man at your wedding, for Christ's sake! I must say Blaine, I'm hurt."

Blaine, not buying an ounce of Sam's bull simply shook his head and said, "Just go upstairs to change so that you can look pretty when you ask Senator Jones if you can marry his daughter."

"Have I mentioned how much I hate you lately?" Sam asked as he made his way out.

"I love you too Sammy boy!" Blaine sang to the tune of Danny Boy.

"Danny Boy you idiot! The song is called Danny Boy!" Sam yelled as the car peeled from the sidewalk. He didn't need to hear his friend to know that Blaine was laughing.

Normally Sam wasn't a fan of Washington D.C. at night, though that probably had more to do with the pretentious parties that he'd been forced to attend in his youth and during his days as an associate at Schuester and Sons. However, as Sam made his way through White House security personnel, he had to admit that it was a wonderful night to be in D.C.

President Obama's 54th birthday party was in full swing by the time Sam made it past security. He'd been slightly surprised when William Jones extended an invitation to him. Senator Jones and the former senator from Illinois had kindled a friendship during Obama's term as a US Senator. Sam wasn't quite sure how his father had managed to get an invitation, though he wasn't surprised to see both his parents along with his aunt and uncle amongst the crowd.

"Scoping out the competition?" Sam teased as he approached his family.

"Very funny," Mary said. "I'll have you know that the First Lady invited us."

"Yep, she and Mary have been rather cordial since Irene introduced them," Martha Evans explained.

"And what does our lovely First Lady think of you, mother?" Sam grinned, well aware of the story.

Martha shot her son a bright smile and said, "Samuel dear, you do like the ability to breathe, don't you?"

"Yes mother," Sam chuckled. "I do."

"Do you plan on breaking hearts tonight?" Mary Evans asked beaming.

"No, I still need parental permission," Sam explained.

"You haven't asked him yet?" his mother sighed. "That's the same excuse you had during the 4th and Easter."

"Not to mention Christmas and Thanksgiving," his father added.

"So, I've been a bit patient," Sam defended. "There's a very real chance that this time next year he could be well on his way to becoming the President of the United States!"

"So, marry the girl before that happens!" Martha told her son. "That or have a really long engagement.

"They've been practically engaged for the last fifteen years Martha, how much longer do you want him to wait?" Dwight cut in.

"Then what's another four?" Martha shrugged.

"It could be eight," Mary reminded her.

Martha turned to her sister-in-law and said gravelly, "We do not speak of such evil things."

Sam coughed loudly, breaking their conversation as Senator William Jones and his wife Irene came into view.

"Oh William, just the man I wanted to see," Martha smiled, whilst her family looked on with slight apprehension. "Samuel here needs to have a private word with you."

Sam and Richard looked at Martha in complete shock as Irene, Mary and Dwight seemed to be holding back laughter. Sam stepped up to his mother and whispered, "Didn't I drop the whole Michelle Obama thing earlier?"

"That is true," his mother smiled, "but it took me over 17 hours to bring you into this world. If you are at all feeling a little unappreciative of that, I would be happy to take you out of this world in less than 17 seconds."

"So, are we having this private chat Mr. Evans?" William asked Sam.

"Why yes sir, I believe we will," Sam said, leading him away.

Once the two men left, Dwight and Irene released their laughter while Mary chided her sister-in-law.

"Could you have been any more obvious?"

"Mary honey, William has known since Christmas," Irene assured.

"That wasn't funny for Sam, Martha," Richard Evans frowned.

"I just did us all a favor," Martha said coolly. "It's about time we got this how on the road."

"Martha, are you trying to tell me that you're looking forward to having Mercedes as your daughter-in-law?" Irene teased.

Martha gave Irene the same look she'd given Mary earlier and said, "We don't speak of such evil things."

Sam led William Jones to the pavilion furthest from the noise of the party. There were several chairs, which Senator Jones quickly took advantage of while Sam leaned against the railing.

"Samuel, the answer is no," William Jones sighed as he leaned back.

"You don't even know that I'm going to ask!"

"The answer is still no," William repeated.

"Give me at least one good reason why I can't marry your daughter," Sam pressed.

"I told you before," William Jones answered. "I don't like cowards."

"It's been two years!"

"A lot has changed since then, that's true. But humor me with this: what's the real reason behind you not wanting to join Wilkins' campaign?"

"You have got to be kidding me!" Sam groaned. "My father tapped you too?"

"Answer the question Samuel."

"I'm not interested in the job, sir."

"Why?" William Jones asked, "Because you spent half of your life not wanting to follow in your father's footsteps?"

"More like all of my life," Sam corrected.

"Rather interesting coming from the young man who wrote a series of speeches that saved his father's Senatorial campaign," William Jones replied. "Shame too, I was quite looking forward to not having to deal with your father on the congressional floor."

"Why would you want me working for Wilkins' campaign anyway? If you win the Democratic nomination, he'd be your main competition," Sam argued.

"You have a gift with words Samuel," William explained, "and it's plainly obvious that I'm not going to be able to capitalize from it. You chose to express that talent through pen and paper and through your work with your students but that doesn't mean it can't be crafted in other ways. Besides, who wants to have to ask the President of the United States to marry their daughter?"

"Quinn Fabray," Sam groaned. "You talked to Quinn."

"You were the one who pushed for her to touch bases with my family again." William shrugged unapologetically. "Be careful of what you ask for."

"It's been good for her," Sam reasoned.

"It's been good for all of us," William agreed. "Look Sam, I'm not going to tell you what to do with your life, but I would suggest that you take advantage of all of your options. Besides, this time 2017, we'll be celebrating my birthday."

"Not going to happen," Sam grinned.

"You plan on doing something about that Evans?" William Jones challenged as he stood.

"Maybe," Sam relented, "but are you seriously saying no?"

"I don't like cowards Mr. Evans," Senator Jones repeated, "but about two years ago you proved yourself otherwise. You haven't needed my permission since."

By the time Sam made it back to Blaine and Kurt's penthouse he was already on air, so when he opened the door to see Mercedes waiting for him, he could barely contain his excitement.

"I thought you had to be back in the studio in LA?" Sam asked as he enveloped her in his arms. Since she'd released her album and watched it go platinum, the days that they were able to spend alone had become far and few.

"I bargained for 32 hours," she explained, cuddling into his embrace. "So I figured that we could kill some time repaying Kurt and Blaine for last Christmas…"

"Yes please," Sam grinned, itching for a reason to get back at his old friend. "It'll make me feel better for temporarily selling my soul away."

"You're going to take the Wilkins' offer?" Mercedes asked.

"On a trial basis, yes," Sam said. "I spoke with Wilkins on my way over here. I'll give it four weeks as a volunteer and if I don't like it, I'm out. No hard feelings. Thank you by the way, for being the only person who didn't try to push this."

"While you do need a good shove every once and awhile, you're welcome Mister Evans," she smiled. "I want you to do whatever makes you happy Sam, though I do expect you and that bony ass of yours to make at least one trip out to L.A. Super Tuesday."

"My ass is not bony Ms. Jones," Sam replied, "and I'll drag you to that bedroom to prove my point."

"Don't worry babe, what you lack here," Mercedes grinned as she cupped his behind, "you make up for in other areas." She dragged her fingers to the front seam of his dress pants and made a show of rubbing his erection while Sam captured her lips for a long, lazy kiss.

"Why don't you head to the bedroom?" Mercedes suggested when they broke for air. "I need to get your surprise."

"I hope it involves lace," Sam growled, "and no panties."

"We'll see about that, Mr. Evans."

Like all things owned by Kurt and Blaine, their master bedroom was lavish: large California king sized bed, black silk sheets imported from Europe and a few abstract portraits plus an electrical fire place. When Sam had first come into the room to change, he'd somehow missed the note that was lying in the middle of the bed.

Changed the bed sheets, Kurt wrote. I figured that you two would want to pay us back for the 'incident' last Christmas—which was completely his fault! Also you have reservations for tomorrow night at 6 o'clock in one of the private booths at Filomena. I convinced Chef Harris Gondelman to create a customized menu filled with your favorites. If my girl doesn't return to L.A. with a new accessory for her ring finger, I'm going to cut your dick off Evans! Enjoy!

Sam chuckled at Kurt's assertiveness as he felt Mercedes arms wrap around his middle, the thin lace of her bodice brushing up against his back.

"There better be no panties with that outfit Mrs. Evans," Sam growled playfully.

"Evans?" Mercedes replied turning him around. "Was that supposed to be a proposal?"

"Depends, are you looking for one?" Sam teased.

"Maybe," she answered with a small smile.

"Well then," Sam began cupping her face. "I would suggest that you'd be careful of what you ask for."

Sam went back to kissing her, letting Mercedes lead the way to the bed. She pushed him onto the silk sheets and as she crawled over him said, "I don't see why. I have everything I need right here and besides I can't wait to become Mrs. Sam Evans."

Mercedes showered him with soft kisses until Sam pulled her back to say, "I love you too."


That's the end guys. Crossing the Aisle is officially finished. I have to thank everyone for their reviews, favorite alerts, story alerts, likes on tumblr etc., it's been so much fun writing this with you guys. Now somewhere in the far future I may come back and do a one shot that's in this universe but that's not my main concern for right now. I do have a surprise up for you for all of those who didn't cheat! ;)

As always thank you for reading!

Much Love,

Santiva Potter