SUMMARY: Because everyday life for a married couple is never without some excitement, drama, and a life lesson or two.


Charlotte Bethany Evans.

Sam remembers it like it was yesterday. A storm was rolling in and just before the first flash of lightning struck the dark night sky, he heard the most beautiful sound he had ever heard in his entire life – his baby daughter's first cry. It was piercing and shocking, how such a loud noise could come out of such a tiny little person, but Sam remembers that sound, clear as day. It's just one of those things that's hard to forget, like the screams that came from Quinn's throat while she was in labor or the soft cries they both shared as they cradled their baby together for the first time.

From the very beginning of her life, Charlotte Bethany Evans was the most spoiled little baby girl – there was no doubt about it. For a long time, she was the only baby around Sam and Quinn's close circle of friends and because of that, she was cherished. He remembers Rachel singing an original song at every birthday, he remembers Brittany and Santana taking her out for spa days (yeah, he didn't even know those existed for babies), and he even remembers Artie giving her a spin on his chair as she sat, cradled in his lap. Sam remembers all that, practically every single memory, because that's what a father does – he remembers. And when his memory fails him, it's like Charlotte has ten other parents weighing in, too. They've all developed soft, protective spots in their hearts for each other's kids over the years.

Which means giving Charlotte what she wants for her thirteenth birthday is going to be especially difficult.

"She wants to what?!" Puck cries, the weights on his bench press clanging together loudly.

"That's crazy!" Finn adds, his shocked expression doing nothing to calm Sam's nerves.

"Dude, I know," Sam sighs, because he's been dealing with this for the past week. Ever since his little girl walked into his bedroom and he made the stupid decision to ask her what she wanted for her upcoming birthday. He had expected her to say a collection of songbooks or sheet music or even a new guitar, but no. Charlotte Evans had walked into his bedroom one night and when her father asked her what she wanted for her thirteenth birthday, she had blatantly said,

"Daddy, I want to go on a date with Eric Scott."

It's ridiculous. Sam told her so and of course, that led into a big fight and they haven't spoken in several days. And okay, Sam misses his little girl and he knows this is just a part of growing up, but God, dating? At thirteen? Is that even normal?

"How old were you when you went on your first date?" he asks, curious to know. Sam sees his friend's eyes dart back and forth between each other and that just sucks, because he knows they're going to lie so he can feel better.

"I was eleven," Puck shrugs. Okay. Sam actually believes that because…well, it's Noah Puckerman, for God's sakes.

"I was thirteen," Finn winces. "Sorry, bro,"

"I was actually seventeen. Tina was my first date," Mike grins and the boys all groan because leave it to Mike Chang to be super-romantic.

"See, why can't Charlotte date guys like you?" Sam mutters and they all chuckle because it's a known fact Charlotte had the biggest crush on her Uncle Mike when she was younger. But she's not young anymore and Sam can't help but feel like he's going to lose his little girl if he lets her go on this date – and that's something he's never going to risk.

Charlotte isn't an easy kid to deal with. She's feisty, headstrong, independent, and incredibly stubborn – basically all of Quinn's most infuriating (and completely adorable) qualities. She's been a little troublemaker ever since she found an abandoned skateboard and decided to ride it down the stairs when she was four years old. Still, they've always managed to rein her in – putting her in piano and guitar lessons, signing her up for the tennis team, and letting her sing in the church choir. But once Sam lets Charlotte go out on a date, she's going to want to go out on another one and they're just going to escalate until she finally has a boyfriend and he just can't handle the thought of some idiotic boy attempting to make his daughter feel special.

No. Just…no.


"You said yes?!"

"Of course I said yes. I started dating when I was thirteen, so it seems fair," Quinn dumps the pasta into a pot of boiling water and stirs it, completely oblivious to the fact that her husband is legitimately having a nervous breakdown.

"But you also had a baby in high school," Sam points out. The way Quinn swivels around and just narrows her pretty hazel eyes at him makes him wince, because scary Quinn is…well, scary. "All I'm saying is that we have to think of the consequences!"

"And you think letting Charlotte go on her first date is going to immediately lead to a teenage pregnancy?" Quinn does that thing where she raises one of her eyebrows and it's cute, in this quirky kind of way, but Sam's too riled up to appreciate it right now.

"I'm saying if we let her go on this one date, she's going to think it's okay to go on other dates!"

"Oh, the horror," Quinn rolls her eyes sarcastically and goes back to stirring the sauce for the spaghetti. He means well, she knows that, and it's ridiculously attractive how great of a father he is, but sometimes he needs to lighten up. Quinn trusts Charlotte and that's all there is to it.

"You're telling me you're completely fine with Charlotte going out on a date with some boy we don't know? For all you know, he could be serial killer. What if he makes fun of her because she does church choir? What if he's not funny? What if he doesn't know what Avatar is?" Sam starts to panic, the reality of the situation finally hitting him. Deep down, he knows he's not being rational and it's unnerving, because Sam has always been the rational one. Sure, his head is sometimes up in the clouds, but for the most part, he's responsible and reliable. He just doesn't understand why his kid needs to go out on a date – at all.

"Honey, I think you're the only one who will care if he's never seen Avatar," Quinn chuckles, setting the stove on low heat and crossing the kitchen to wrap her arms around her husband's waist. Thank god he's still obsessed with working out, because she swears, his abs are her favorite physical feature about him. Even through his t-shirt, Quinn can feel the rigid outline of a six-pack and yes; it makes her giddy and excited that he's all hers, because…well, Sam is hot. And he doesn't even realize it, which makes it so much better.

"It's an important quality," he grumbles.

"You didn't care that I had never seen it,"

"We were seventeen! Which is further proof that Charlotte doesn't have to date now. She doesn't need to,"

"At what point does someone need to date, Sam? You and I didn't need to date, but look where we are now," she whispers softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his neck.

"So you're saying she's going to end up marrying Eric Scott and have three kids with him?" Sam turns in her arms and laces his fingers around her waist, pulling her closer. Sometimes it amazes him that after all these years together, he still can't get enough of her. Quinn's the best thing that's ever happened to him and he used to live in fear that one day she'd wake up and realize he wasn't what she wanted. It hasn't happened yet, so he's thankful for that.

"No, I'm saying if you don't let her date – just one date – she might end up resenting you. And as much as you want to keep a hold on your little girl, you're going to have to realize that she's growing up. If we shelter her from everything, it's going to be ten times worse when she decides to let loose on her own," Quinn reasons, grabbing his biceps in an effort to strengthen her point.

There's silence between the two, before Sam throws his head back in a loud, frustrated groan. "Fine, she can go," he mumbles bitterly. He doesn't really have any more arguments against this dating thing and in the end, he knows the girls are going to win, so it's better if he just goes along, anyway. "But I won't be happy about it,"

"I wouldn't expect you to be," Quinn grins, kissing him lightly on the lips, before starting to turn back towards the stove. Sam tugs on her skirt, though, pulling her back to him and she squeals, wriggling in his grip. "Sam!"

"You're kind of hot when you go all parental," he raises his eyebrows suggestively and Quinn bursts out laughing, because seriously, Sam has not changed one bit since high school.

"You're crazy," she giggles. "And quit it, I need to get dinner ready and I'm starving," she bats at his arms playfully, but the truth is, being this close to Sam Evans, no matter how many times, always makes her head spin. He's like the best kind of drug you could get addicted to.

"Mmm, so am I," he whispers, his lips ghosting softly over Quinn's lips. Sam pulls her body flush against his and it's these kisses – these intense, passionate, and melting kisses – that always send both their minds reeling. She goes limp in his arms, relishing the way she can feel his muscles tense and he's just so big and she's so little, but their limbs all fit together perfectly.

When they finally pull apart, Sam sort of shoots her this lopsided grin and she smirks up at him, before going back to cooking. It takes him a while to tear his eyes off her, because yes, Quinn Fabray has always been beautiful and it still baffles him how out of all the people in the world, she chose him.


It's after dinner when he decides to do it.

Quinn is on the phone with Tina and all the plates are cleared up, so when Charlotte goes up to her room, Sam takes the opportunity. He waits outside for several minutes, his eyes fixated on her bedroom door, before finally gathering enough courage to knock. Yeah, he thinks he shouldn't have to knock, since it's his house, after all, but Quinn insists on it – something about how it gives Charlotte privacy. Whatever.

"Yes?" her voice is soft, like it always is. It's gentle and melodic and despite Rachel Berry's attempts to turn her into a vocal powerhouse, Charlotte's always been suited to sing those folksy, acoustic, soft, country songs. As a Tennessee native, it makes him super proud that she chooses Sarah Buxton and Martina McBride over Broadway. But that's just him.

"Hey, can I come in?" he pokes his head in and finds her sitting at her desk, her knees curled up to her chest. When she nods, Sam opens the door the rest of the way and crosses the room, settling himself on the edge of the bed. "I'd like to talk about your birthday. Or…well, what you want for your birthday," he adds.

"Really?" Charlotte's face lights up. It actually lights up and he knows this is going to be difficult. Sam was all prepared to lay down the law with her, to tell her she could date, but with very, very strict conditions. But now that he sees how excited just the possibility of dating makes her…it just makes things complicated. Charlotte sort of bounces over, sitting next to him, where he takes a good look at her.

Sam likes to think he's not being biased, but seriously, his daughter is the most beautiful person in the world. She's emerald green eyes and long blonde hair tied up in a ridiculously high ponytail, she's a mix between Sam and Quinn's lips (thank god), and she's just so damn gifted. One of the star players on the girl's tennis team, a talented piano and guitar player, and she's like, the darling of the church choir. Sam can't help that he's freaking proud – he helped make her, for God's sakes. So the idea of his little girl going out with some guy…it's every father's worst nightmare, isn't it?

"You can date," he says firmly. Charlotte throws her arms around his neck and he stumbles back a bit, but just hugs her back, because even though saying those words hurt, it's kind of worth it if she's happy.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Wait, I have rules," his eyebrows furrow and Charlotte sits back down, her hands resting in her lap. She nods, the expression on her face telling him that she's taking this as seriously as he is. "Me and mom have to meet this guy. And we have to approve. If there's something we don't like about him, he's out of here,"

"Dad," she rolls her eyes in that typical, expected, teenager sort of way. Sam just snorts in laughter, because come on, he's seen it all. "You're going to have a biased opinion, you're going to hate him right off the bat,"

"Hold up, I'm not done. Yes, we have to meet this guy and approve of him, but we also promise that we'll be fair. If he's genuinely a nice dude, then it's fine. I know you think I'll judge him in some way, but that's why your mom has to be there," he explains. "Don't tell her, but she kind of keeps me sane," Sam chuckles, nudging his shoulder with Charlotte's. "Does that seem okay?"

"Yes,"

"And, you let us know where you're going. Curfew applies – 10 o'clock and not a second later. I reserve the right to call you or drop in on your date at any time of the night, too," he adds the last part in a rush. Charlotte's eyes widen, before relaxing again, and Sam can see the wheels carefully turning in her head – as if she's mulling over some business deal. It's scary how alike Charlotte and Quinn are, he realizes.

"Okay," she shrugs.

"Okay? That's it?" he's a little bewildered, because she made such a big deal about it a few nights ago.

"Yeah," she nods. "That's what I was expecting anyway, so…thanks, Daddy. It means a lot that you can trust me," Charlotte smiles and it just melts Sam's heart so he pulls her in for a hug and drops a kiss on her forehead.


Sam walks into the bedroom he shares with Quinn to find her sitting up, her pretty hazel eyes fixated on the book she's reading. It's finally quiet in the usually loud house and he savors these moments – moments when he and Quinn get some alone time to sit and really talk. They do a good job of co-parenting their kids, for the most part; they're always on the same wavelength. And their separate jobs keep them busy, but it's not like they ever neglect each other. Still, it's always nice to sink down into a comfortable bed, put an arm around his gorgeous wife, and just pick apart each other's brains before going to sleep. Sometimes, if he's not super tired or super horny (because hey, it happens), it's his favorite part of the day.

"All the kids asleep?" he asks, referring to their 10 year old son, Ryan, and their 6-year-old daughter, Lucy. Thank god he doesn't have to think about those two going on dates yet – especially Lucy.

"They're in bed, but I can hear Ryan tapping on his side table with those sticks. We should've never agreed to let Finn teach him how to play the drums, he's obsessed," Quinn rests her head back against the headboard, closing her book. She bites her lip, watching as Sam strips to his boxers, before wrapping her arms around his torso when he climbs into bed.

"So how was your day?" he asks, dropping a kiss on her head.

"Oh, it was super exciting. Lucy managed to get gum stuck in her hair and screamed bloody murder. And Ryan accidentally flung a drumstick into my face," she pouts, looking up at him and pointing out the small welt that's beginning to form underneath her eyes. Sam chuckles and she whacks him on the chest.

He just kisses her cheek and breathes her in. After a long day at work, he's just grateful he's got a family and a home to come back to – even if his kids are sort of nuts and his wife is stubborn as hell.

"I told Charlotte she could date," Sam mumbles against her neck. "I'm officially a sucky father,"

Quinn straightens up, nearly elbowing him in the chin, and claps her hands together gleefully. When she asks him what made him change his mind, she gets an ungrateful grunt as a response, but she takes it. After a couple of minutes of silence, Quinn feels the dead weight of Sam's sleeping body on top of hers and she chuckles – with his muscled arm flung ungracefully across her stomach and the top of his blond hair tickling her jawline, she'll admit it to the whole world: this is her favorite part of the day.


'This isn't happening. This isn't happening.'

She's sitting cross-legged on the floor, the new guitar she got for her birthday in her lap. She's stringing chords together with the expertise of someone who's been trained for years and her voice is clear – singing in time to the slow, Lady Antebellum ballad that plays from the iPod on the dock. Behind her, Quinn is holding a curling iron, steadily wrapped around blonde strands and scattered all around them on the floor is makeup – eye shadow palettes, lip glosses, compacts, and other contraptions and knick-knacks that Sam can't even wrap his head around.

Charlotte is getting ready for her first date.

They had celebrated her birthday the night before, with a fancy dinner and a pretty cake and presents. But now, on a Saturday night, Sam is actually letting his teenager go on a date with a boy he's never met before. And as Quinn fastens a pearl necklace around Charlotte's neck, Sam is pretty sure the only reason he agreed to all this is because he underwent some secret lobotomy while sleeping. Because there is no way in his sane mind that he would let Charlotte – his precious, teenaged, beautiful firstborn – go on a date with some loser named Eric.

"How do I look, Daddy?" her melodic voice, so similar to her mother's, pulls him out of his thoughts and he shakes his head, focusing on the young woman in front of him.

Sometimes he can't believe that she's his. Like, he'll be waiting in the car to pick her up from school and she'll come running out, all breathless and wide-eyed, and Sam actually has to stop and compose himself – it's like he can't believe he and Quinn actually created this person. This person, who walks and talks and is the perfect combination of both of them, bad parts and all. Sam's amazed of his daughter, every day, and it might be the sappiest thing ever, but it's also true. And when Charlotte spins around, her sundress (that she insisted he buy for her for this specific occasion) splays out around her and her curls bounce and her eyes sparkle and Sam's heart just breaks. A part of him can feel her slipping through his fingers, but the other part of him knows it's time.

"You look beautiful," Sam says, trying hard not to let his voice break. Charlotte grins and wraps her arms around his waist in a fierce huge, before sprinting out of her bedroom and down the stairs.

"Good boy," Quinn teases, walking towards her husband. She affectionately pats him on the head and he ducks out of her way, groaning.

"Why did I agree to this?" he whines, grasping Quinn's hand and guiding them down the stairs. She giggles into his shoulder and mumbles something incoherent, but he hears the word 'love' and just…well, leave it to his wife to say the one thing to make it all better.

Charlotte is sitting on the living room floor, playing with her little sister and Sam's just about to say something when the doorbell rings. She jumps to her feet faster than lightning, but Quinn shoots her a warning look while Sam goes to answer the door. When he pulls it open, he's a little confused. Eric Scott isn't tall or muscular and he doesn't look like a jock – in fact, he looks sort of terrified. He's all gangly limbs and awkward stance, his blue eyes wide with fear and Sam has to hold back a chuckle.

This was the guy he was afraid of?


"Stop it," Quinn's voice doesn't pull him out of his stupor and he keeps flipping through the magazine absentmindedly. "Sam Evans, stop it," she repeats and crosses the room to sit next to him, tugging the magazine out of his hands.

"It's 10. It's 10 o'clock and she's not home yet,"

"It's nine fifty-five. She's got five more minutes, so hold on before you send out a search party, okay?" she chuckles and grabs Sam's arm to sling over her own shoulder. He presses a ghost of a kiss to her bare shoulder and it leaves her wanting more, but she knows him too well – he won't rest until all three of their kids are safe and tucked in bed. Sometimes his insistence and overprotectiveness gets on her nerves (and definitely the kids'), but it's also one of the reasons she loves him.

They stay like that for a while and it's nice. Quinn knows Sam's not all there, but she'll take what she can get. Their lives are busy, with three kids running around and stable jobs for both of them, but she kind of lives for these fleeting, stolen moments. Tina makes fun of her sometimes, says that she's obsessed with her husband and Quinn stifles a giggle at the thought – because it's probably true.

"Alright, it's 10. I don't care that Eric Scott is on the damn honor roll – I'm getting my shotgun," Sam untangles himself from Quinn and stands up purposefully.

"It's not 10 and you're being…"

The low hum of a car engine catches their attention and Sam makes a move towards the front door. With cat-like reflexes, Quinn reaches out and grabs his sleeve, dragging him back. He makes a sound, somewhere between a whine and a grunt, but stays put – for now, at least.

When Charlotte finally walks into the living room, Sam lets out a huge breath of relief. He doesn't know what he was expecting (probably the worst), but she seems to be in one piece – no wrinkled dress and not a hair out of place. She swings the purse in her hand back and forth with a soft smile on her lips and all of a sudden, before Sam can even register what's going on, Charlotte flings her arms around his neck in a fierce hug.

"What did he do?" he asks immediately, because the only reason his teenage daughter would find comfort in his arms (at least, nowadays, anyway) would be because an idiot named Eric Scott hurt her in some way.

Charlotte pulls away and rolls her eyes and Sam's struck again with the image of a young Quinn Fabray.

"He didn't do anything," she reasons. "I just wanted to hug you. And say thank you," Charlotte smiles graciously, the corners of lips curling upwards. There's a soft, untouched innocence about her – mixed with a mature, wise-beyond-her-years sort of air. It terrifies Sam, because he's pretty sure that's what Quinn was like back in the day.

Instead, Sam offers her a half-hearted grin.

"I'm being serious," Charlotte insists, taking Sam's hand and guiding him towards the couch. He sits and she sits next to him. Looking at him directly in the eyes, she starts to speak with a calm, rational, voice. "I know you didn't want me to start dating. But the fact that you told me I could, that you trusted me enough to take the first, very small, step towards adulthood…I really appreciate that. I know it was hard for you, but you did it anyway, because you want what's best for me – and deep down, you know that letting me grow up in my own way is what's best for me. I'll always be your girl,"

Sam stares at her, unblinking.

"I love you, Daddy,"

Charlotte kisses him on the cheek and walks quietly out of the room. Quinn follows closely behind, trailing her daughter and asking question after question about how the date went. Sam leaves her to it, because she'll tell him everything later and because…well, he's still stunned. He knows he's got good kids – hell, they're half Quinn Fabray and that's enough to make them great kids. But he's never actually heard any of them put together a string of words that was coherent and articulate and so damn eloquent.

He's struck with the sudden realization that his little girl is growing up – and more importantly, she's growing up smart. It fills him with enormous pride and Sam pretty much can't handle it. Tears spring to his eyes when he recognizes how far his little girl's come.

And just like how he'll never forget Charlotte's first cries, during that momentous day in the hospital as a treacherous storm was rolling in, Sam knows he'll never forget her speech tonight – just another landmark in his baby girl's life that he knows he'll always remember.