Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. I only wish I did so I could tell the stories my way.

A/N: Sorry if you were expecting a part two to the first chapter here. It's still in the works, but I decided to make this story a series of (sometimes connected, oftentimes not) one-shots focused on moments in the lives of Samcedes and the little family I've dreamed up for them. It's all part of the same AU. I hope you enjoy! And leave me reviews because they make my life!


"Fuck," came Sam's latest muffled gripe from his current position under the kitchen sink. Mercedes nearly choked on the lemonade she'd been sipping as she watched her husband work. She covered her mouth with her hand, giggling silently to herself, behind him at the small breakfast table where she sat.

If he heard her, she was going to get it, and Mercedes could live without his dirty, oily fingers all over her, tickling her breath away. Besides, she was enjoying her current view far too much to disturb it just yet. She let her eyes rake across Sam's snug-fitting jeans and how flawless his ass looked in them. Bringing the glass of lemonade back to her lips, she slowly took another sip and ogled him openly.

Her mind was just about to wander to naughty places when Sam let out a string of muted curses this time. She quietly giggled again before picking up the little business card that was sitting next to her on the table.

"Babe, are you sure you don't want to call the plumber to come in and check this out? You've been down there a really long time," she told him, stifling a laugh when he briefly turned to glare at her.

"Yes, I'm sure," he said, getting testy on the last word. Mercedes scrunched up her face mimicking his words and tone silently behind his back.

They'd discovered a leak in the sink when they woke up this morning. Mercedes had immediately reached for the phonebook, intending to call the plumber. But, Sam, ever the family handyman, had insisted he would fix it. So, he had been down there "fixing it" since he'd dropped their 10-year old son, Cameron, off at soccer practice that morning.

After eleven years of marriage, Mercedes wasn't even surprised. Sam was every bit as stubborn today as he'd been every day of the 17 years she'd known him. She figured she'd let this latest bout of testosterone-driven manual labor run its course, like she had every one before it.

Sam was always convinced he was going to fix everything. Sometimes he actually succeeded, but then there were the other times…

Like the time his parents had given them a gorgeous crystal chandelier as a house-warming gift 9 years ago. Mercedes had begged Sam to call an electrician to come in and fix it. "I'll fix it," Sam said, and fix it, he had—until, mere seconds after he'd declared the job done, the fixture had come crashing down onto the dining room table.

A one-year old Cameron, who'd been napping blissfully in his mother's arms as she watched Sam work, shot straight up at the noise. He looked around in alarm, and then turned his tear-filled green eyes to his mom, before his face crumpled up. He let out a pitiful cry, his pacifier falling out of his mouth. Sam only looked at them sheepishly as Mercedes shot him an exasperated look and left the room to calm Cameron down.

There was also the time, a few years ago, when the hinge on the screen door came loose. "I'll fix it," Sam said, and he had—for all of 10 minutes.

Mercedes had been walking up the drive-way, with a then 7-year old Cameron, after a trip to the drugstore. As soon as their unsuspecting son swung the door open, it'd come off in his hand entirely. She'd had to rush forward, dropping all of her purchases to the ground in the process, to keep the heavy metal door from crushing her baby. Cameron still eyed the door warily at times.

And Mercedes would never forget the time, a few months ago, when a new wall switch needed to be installed in Cameron's freshly renovated bedroom.

10-year old Cameron had declared himself too old for the baby animal barnyard theme his room had going. He begged his mom and dad for a new look more suited to his interests—soccer. He and Tyler Chang, Mike and Tina's son, were obsessed with the sport and Cameron wanted a room that reflected that.

Sam had been excited at the prospect of another project and poured himself into giving his son the best room he could ever want. He'd soccered out Cameron's entire room, from the bedspread, to the curtains, to the rugs, to the pillows, to the posters—everything. When Sam had come home from the furniture store with wall switches shaped like soccer balls, exceedingly excited to install them for Cameron, Mercedes didn't have the heart to deter him.

Later that night, however, as Sam, Mercedes, and Cameron sat in the emergency room, waiting for a doctor to treat Sam's first degree burns, Mercedes wished she had. Over the years of disastrous handyman undertakings, this had shockingly been Sam's first injury.

Cameron, who'd learned to laugh at his dad's adventures in handymanning, had completely freaked out—feeling partially responsible for his father's injury. He'd battled tears the entire ride to the hospital, hanging his head of wild honey-blonde curls in dejection. It was only when Sam scooped the 10-year old up, showing him that his bandaged hand would pull through by wiggling his fingers, that Cameron started to cheer up a bit. Nevertheless, he clung to his father until they were all back home.

Mercedes hadn't scolded Sam then—he felt bad enough—but all three of them had come to a mutual agreement that Sam wasn't allowed near anymore electrical sockets.

They hadn't said anything about the kitchen sink, however, so here Sam was on his latest handyman expedition—while Mercedes stood watch.

"Hell to the yes!" Sam exclaimed, pumping a pipe wrench-laden fist into the air. Two seconds later his head was flying out of the kitchen cabinet, narrowly avoiding a skull-bruising bump.

"Finally!" he said, turning to look at Mercedes with a smug smile. "I told you! Easy as shooting ducks on a pond!" Sam said.

Mercedes raised an eyebrow, "You are aware you've been down there for the last two hours?"

Sam rolled his eyes and mumbled something that sounded like 'smartass' under his breath. Mercedes bit back another laugh. "It's not about the time it takes, but the quality of the job, baby," he informed her, his tone dripping with swagger.

"Oh," Mercedes said, scrunching up her face and nodding her head in mock-approval.

"Although," she drawled out a second later, holding up a hand, "I wouldn't get too cocky just yet, alright, Tim Taylor? We haven't actually tried the sink."

Sam rolled his eyes and strutted out of the room to turn the water back on. A few minutes later, he was back and the two of them stood in front of the sink for the moment of truth. Mercedes stood off to the side a bit, just in case.

Sam wanted Mercedes to do the honors, but she was taking no chances. Rolling his eyes again, he extended his hand and turned on the faucet.

The water flowed normally and Sam shot a self-satisfied expression toward his wife.

"See—"

Before Sam could go any further, the sink made a strange whirring sound, and then all hell broke loose. Water sprayed everywhere, shooting out of the faucet like a geyser. The kitchen had gone from normal to Wild Water Kingdom in 3 seconds flat!

Mercedes screamed but avoided it as she hadn't been standing as close as Sam. Sam, on the other hand, was doused from head to toe as he fumbled forward to turn off the faucet before it flooded the entire kitchen.

He finally managed it, his face red as a beet as he turned to face his wife.

Mercedes' eyes grew wide. She tucked in her lips and bit them hard to keep from laughing. She was rapidly losing that battle at the sight of him standing there, looking like he'd decided to go for a swim fully clothed. It was just too much for her.

She brought her hand up to cover her mouth as her shoulders started shaking. She never took her eyes from his.

"Don't say a word," Sam said in a low tone and Mercedes lost it. She threw her head back and let out a loud laugh that came from deep inside of her. She could barely breathe and let the tears that formed in her eyes make their way down her cheeks.

Sam advanced toward her warningly and Mercedes backed away from him knowing what would come next. She inched backwards until she hit the doorway that led to the living room and took off.

Her short legs were no match for his, and soon, he scooped her up in his arms, dropped her onto the couch and hovered above her. His fingers tickled the life out of her and Mercedes squealed trying to get away from his hands.

"Say you're sorry," Sam said staring down at his wife in amusement. He'd never get tired of playing this game with her. 17 years together and they still goofed around together like a couple of kids.

"Sorry for what?" Mercedes asked breathlessly, squirming around to escape his wiggling fingers. "You should say you're sorry for flooding the kitchen. You're mopping that up by the way. Then you're gonna call the plumber."

She squealed again when he tickled her harder, moving one hand from her side to her neck, where she was even more sensitive.

"Stop, Sam! I can't breathe," she exclaimed after a moment, swatting at his hands and kicking out at him.

He finally had pity on her, or she thought he did, but then he was lowering his body, clad in his wet clothes, onto hers and she was powerless to push him off.

"You're ruining my dress!" she exclaimed.

"That's what you get for laughing at me," Sam said, but he was already forgetting what his motives were.

All thoughts of revenge had a way of going out the window when you found yourself on top of your sexy wife…on a lazy Saturday afternoon…when your son was out of the house…

Mercedes had been trying to push him off, but her grip changed when he kissed her deeply a moment later. Her hands slid from his chest to his wet hair and she didn't even think twice about opening her mouth to him when his tongue swiped across her bottom lip.

The kiss turned from lazy to passionate in an instant and neither of them heard when the front door opened, or when it shut, or when the two sets of feet padded softly into the room.

They did hear when Cameron and Tyler let out excessive gagging noises, however. They both turned unapologetic eyes to their son and godson.

"How was practice?" Mercedes asked the boys, smiling brightly.

"No, mom," Cameron covered his eyes with his hands. "Can we talk at dinner? I can't talk to you guys when you're…like that," he said gesturing toward her and Sam.

"Really y'all?" Cameron said, exasperated. "This is why you have a room." The boys stood there, their expressions clearly showcasing their repulsion at the scene before them.

"Actually, Cam," Sam said, making no moves to get off his wife, "this is why you have a room. Our house. We'll kiss where we please."

Cameron rolled his green eyes, pursing his plump lips as he and Tyler made a hasty exit from the room, grumbling the whole way.

"I was gonna ask, but I don't think I wanna know why he's all wet," Mercedes and Sam heard Cameron say.

"Honestly, though," Tyler said a second later. "We can't get away from this. What is wrong with our parents?"

"I know," Cameron said. "I'm never going to be all gross with a girl like that."

"Yeah," came Tyler's agreement.

Sam chuckled as he looked down at Mercedes. She shook her head and giggled at him.

"They say that now," Sam said. "I give them like 2 more years—three tops."

Mercedes' giggling stopped abruptly. "Until what?"

"Until they start noticing girls," Sam clarified.

"Who? My babies? No. Never," Mercedes said shaking her head fervently. "Any girl even shows up here, I'm coming at them with a baseball bat for even trying."

Sam raised his eyebrow at his wife's ire.

"I was around all those McKinley girls. I know what's up. They need to just stay away from my babies," Mercedes said resolutely, already making plans to sit with Tina when she and Mike came to pick up Tyler later, and discuss how they were going to keep their babies small forever.

"Babe, they're gonna grow up sometime," Sam challenged softly.

"Oh, so you're cool with Stacey's boyfriend, then?" Mercedes asked, raising her eyebrows at him in question.

Sam's eyes darkened considerably at the thought of his sister's boyfriend. He'd never be cool with that. He was still trying to come up with ways to make that boy vanish.

"See? So, then we agree? He's never allowed to date?" Mercedes asked, not an ounce of humor lacing her tone.

Sam shrugged in tacit agreement. For today, Cameron was still repulsed by girls. They'd revisit the subject at a later date. Right now, he had other things on his mind.

He smiled at his wife, about to go in for another kiss, when she said, "Babe, you really have to call the plumber." She poked out her bottom lip and nodded when he just looked at her.

After a few seconds, Sam's smile brightened. "I'll fix it," he whispered against her lips, then silenced her protests with a kiss.


Did you like it? Let me know! Leave me a review! They really make my life!

Thanks so much for all the alerts, reviews, and kind words for the previous chapter.

Also, if you want to prompt anything, I'd be glad to hear ideas.

Last, but in no way the least, BIG THANKS to my twinnie, keeponsmilingg, who always encourages and inspires me! Love you!