Title: The Bold, Wise Counselor and the Perfect Warrior God Heard

Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans

Rating: T

Warning: Shamless fluff, mpreg, sex.

Author's Note: So, I got a request to continue this story a few years down the road so as to take a peek in on what the baby's name was - and what their next one was! I gladly continued. THEY'D STILL THE FREAKING CUTEST THINGS EVER. Enjoy!

"Dad! Daddy, daddy!" The loud cry met his ears, and Sam scooped the bustling, young five year old boy into his arms, barely having time to get inside the door.

"Hey little buddy!" Sam brought the boy over his head, swaying him around gently while projecting the -whoosh-ing noise of planes as he did so. The child's eyes were alight to see him. Sam got home late from patrol very usually, and it was a treat whenever he got out early and could come to a family dinner that didn't just consist of Kurt. Not that he didn't mind that, but it happened more often than not, and he liked having Kurt and the kids at the table.

"Honey, let your father inside before you take him out at the knees," Kurt called and Sam hauled the young boy over his shoulder and he squealed with delight.

"I caught this rascal making a run for it from the vegetables again," Sam gave the boy a wriggle on his shoulder, "Luckily, I managed to catch him and he'll live to be healthy another day." Sam dropped the boy into the nearest chair and ran a hand through the dark tousles of hair, very similar to Kurt's, but much darker. The curious, ocean-eyes followed him over to Kurt and watched as they shared a brief kiss – before pausing to kiss just a little bit deeper, smiling warmly at one another.

"I don't know how I'll repay you officer," Kurt purred quietly, straightening out Sam's collar and Sam's arms wrapped around him tightly, hands slipping down to cup the still perfectly round ass. Kurt yelped and slapped them away with the spoon he'd been handling the pasta with.

"Oh, I can think of a few ways," Sam winked, giving Kurt a firm smack on the bottom before a warbled cry met his ears from the baby monitor on the counter, "I'll go get her," Sam turned back to his son at the table, pointing at him playfully and shaking it playfully. He kissed the boy on the forehead,

"You be good while I go get your sister, Christopher."

–

Sam remembered having the same conversation he'd had about naming Christopher with Kurt when they were trying to name their daughter. There were so many. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Or well, as Kurt put it, a needle in a pile of needles – a needle would stand out in a haystack.

"I really like Chloe. It's Greek, y'know. And means verdant and blooming. Big words, huh?" Sam grunted as Kurt was busily trying to get his shirt undone. Christopher was asleep, Sam had gotten home early, and Kurt didn't have to go over any lines and neither of their favorite show was on and god damn it, it was time for some lovin'.

"I like Isobel. Beauty, holy, perfection."

"I guess that would mean we are pretty damn amazing – ah, fuck Kurt." Sam agreed, breath stuttering as he wrenched off Kurt's shirt and he watched the other scowl disapproving as the threads made the creaking sound as they were stretched. Even after seven years of marriage, Kurt was still so uptight about his clothes. Not that Sam would have him any other way, of course. Sam rolled them over and ran a hand over the prominent swell of Kurt's stomach, kissing over the rise of it and he sighed, pressing his ear to it.

"Or Naomi. It means pleasant, and after Christopher was so colicky, I'd like a nice, pleasant baby." Kurt snorted as Sam kissed him again and was working on his belt. He groaned as Kurt's hand joined his own before promptly shoving itself down his pants, groping him gratuitously through his boxers. Sam thrust into Kurt's hand needily.

"Mmmm – fuck, yeah, that'd be – Jesus – a pretty name," Sam gasped as he tried to concentrate for long enough in getting Kurt out of his pants as well, "But I really – oh god Kurt –" Sam keened, kissing the other hard on the mouth with earnest as Kurt's hand had found its way into his boxers and had wrapped itself around his cock, pumping steadily. He wasn't just thrusting into Kurt's hand now, he was fucking it really.

"Really like Victoria," Sam managed to moan out the rest of his sentence and simultaneously (quite a feat if you were to ask him later on) wiggle Kurt out of his night pants. Kurt paused and Sam let out a needy sound, "Kurt so help me god, I'm gonna fuck your face instead of your hand in ten seconds if you don't keep doing what you were doing –"

"I like Victoria," Kurt said thoughtfully and Sam glanced up at the other, "What's it mean?"

"Conqueror, winner." Sam panted out, grinning. Kurt's face broke out into a soft smile and he leaned up, pulling his hand from Sam's pants and wrapped his legs about the other man's waist, pulling him in close. He wrapped his arms about his shoulders, shivering violently as Sam's mouth suctioned itself to his neck.

"So that means she'd be... the bold, wise perfect warrior that always wins... that God hears?" Sam burst out laughing as Kurt tried his best to recite the "baby math" to him.

"It means she'll forever win at life. She'll be amazing." Sam chuckled into Kurt's neck as he aligned his hips, shaking with anticipation, "We make the best friggen' kids ever, I swear Kurt –" Sam choked out as he was suddenly pushing forwards, pushing in and oh god, that felt so fucking good. Kurt's nails carved themselves into his shoulders, raking down his back...

Okay, so maybe not as innocent as it had been with Christopher, cuddled up on the couch, but hey, baby math was exciting. Sam flipped on the light into the nursery, and he could hear the fussy noises the baby was making. As he leaned over the edge of the crib and pulled their daughter up. The blond, wavy locks atop her head were definitely his as she began to flap her hands excitedly at the sight of him.

As he headed back to the kitchen, he found Kurt already warming up a bottle. Christopher was devouring his pasta and Sam plopped down into a chair with a long, tired sigh. This was the best time of the day. Christopher and Victoria were happy, Kurt was at ease, and Sam was home. Taking the bottle from his husband, Kurt kissed him again and when he tried to pull back, Sam just tugged him back in again for another – and another – and another – and then a few more.

"Welcome home, baby." Kurt squeezed Sam's shoulder and in that one moment, it was perfect. Kurt took his seat across from the other – and immediately rolled his eyes, "Christopher! Stop putting your green beans under your chair! I can see them!" Victoria spied the bottle and began to cry for it with want and Christopher began to argue with Kurt how the wet, tasteless green stubs couldn't possibly be something that was going to make him healthy.

Sam smiled at the sudden commotion. In a house with his Christ-bearing traveler, his little conqueror, and his bold, wise counselor, Sam was pretty sure that God really had heard His perfect warrior.

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