DISCLAIMER: I don't own Sam and Mercedes, but their world is mine!

I have no idea where this story is going, and I don't think it'll be completely linear, but I hope you enjoy it!

September 2, 2029 (Monday)

Evans' Home—Living Room

Huntington, NY

5:43PM

Sitting on the light oak hardwood flooring of the living room, absently watching the football game that was on mute—it was just playing on the screen of a hard-earned 72-inch high-definition television, and coloring in a princess activity book was the perfect way to spend a lazy Thursday afternoon.

Spread out all over the light oak coffee table that rested atop a patterned rug in the center of the room; were those awesome twistable crayons, several markers, and a pack of glitter color pencils. Quite oddly, there was a glass bottle of soda in the middle of the table and on the other end was a clear-plastic cup filled with apple juice.

Two pairs of feet were stretched out under the table—a pair belonging to a grown man and the other seemed comically small next to them. The man was wearing a pair of plain white socks—and the little person next to him had socks with pink and orange stripes.

A thirty-six year old Sam Evans was sitting on one side of the coffee table, hunched over his coloring book as he worked on making Rapunzel look beautiful. His five year old daughter, Lali Anna Evans, was right next to him.

He could see her twist herself so she could get a good look at his picture. Sam pretended not to notice, but he really wanted to laugh at the curiosity that was sparkling in her green eyes.

Lali was the cutest thing—she had dark brown ringlets that framed her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were huge, and green just like his and her lashes were ridiculously long. Sam would admit that she had him wrapped around her mocha finger.

Sam scribbled some more on his picture, before he leaned towards Lali to glance at her picture.

She didn't seem to notice him at first—she was coloring intently; her tongue poking out of her mouth a bit as she concentrated—but she turned to grab another crayon and saw him.

"Daddy!" she squealed as she rapidly threw her arms over her paper. "No cheatin'!"

Sam bit back a laugh as he put his hands up in surrender.

"But, Lali-bug, you're so much better than me at coloring!" he told her dramatically. The way her eyes lit up made his heart swell with love. "Are you sure you don't want to help your poor, old daddy?"

Lali squinted at him. Sam was busting a gut internally—she was so serious that it was adorable.

"You are bad at colorin' in the lines," Lali finally said and Sam gaped at her.

He wasn't expecting that!

"Excuse me, Miss Bug?" Sam demanded—his tone was playfully indignant and it made his daughter giggle. "I am not bad at coloring in the lines!"

"Daddy," Lali said—her tone long-suffering as if Sam should've known that he was bad at coloring in the world of five-year olds. It probably would've been less amusing if Sam didn't write and illustrate his own comic book series. "Look at your pictures—mommy says that if you need help, you gots to ask for it."

"Are you saying I need drawing lessons?" Sam asked.

"All mommies and daddies need drawin' lessons," Lali replied. Sam laughed and then reached out for her.

"Why you little—"Sam said as he tried to poke the girl in the side. She was too fast for him though and she crawled under the table to get away from him. Sam followed her with a fake roar. "I'm gonna get you, Lali-Bug!"

Her curls bouncing and arms flailing, Lali ran around the living room as fast as she could. Her pink shirt with spaghetti straps, an empire waist created by a bow that tied in the back, and a billowy base—flared around her as she sprinted away from him. He chased her around the couches, around the coffee table, before he finally grabbed her.

She let out a loud cry of "Daddy, no!" as he swept her into his arms and spun around in circles.

He stopped a moment later and then flopped backwards onto the couch.

He held her close so she wouldn't spazz out on his lap and fall. Her eyes were scrunched shut but she was smiling and Sam had to grin at her. Lali was still giggling when she opened her eyes.

Sam flicked her nose lightly and he laughed when she automatically wrinkled it. He brushed a couple of her curls out of her face and she batted his hand away. His heart almost melted though when she plopped down on his lap and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Can I have my juice, Daddy?" she asked.

Sam kissed her forehead, before he leaned forward and grabbed the cup off the coffee table.

"Careful," he told her sternly—his wife would kill him if she spilled on the couch.

Lali gave him a sassy look that came straight from her mother.

"I know, daddy!" she said as she took it out of his hand and slowly took a sip. Sam's lips twitched.

She was being extra gentle and it was the cutest thing he had ever seen. She finished the whole glass and Sam placed the empty cup on the coffee table again. He leaned back into the couch cushions and Lali relaxed into his embrace.

His fingers ran through her curls as they laid there and watched football—even if Lali had no idea what was going on; she would sit there with him every time. The father-daughter moment was shattered abruptly when a door opened upstairs and the yelling started.

"I already said no, Abby!"

"But mama, I don't see why not? Everyone is going to this party and I—"

"Everyone is not going, because I know for a fact that you aren't!"

"This isn't fair!"

"Life isn't fair, so suck it up and—" Sam winced when there was the loud sound of a door slamming shut and he prayed to every deity he could think of that his thirteen year old daughter hadn't just closed the door in her mother's face, because if she did—she might not make it through the night.

"Uh-oh," Lali said. Sam glanced down at his youngest and had to agree with her. The disconcerted expression on his face complimented the wide eyes she was sporting. Both of them sat up from their previous cuddling position.

"Oh, hell to the no!" The absolute rage and indignation he heard in his wife's voice immediately brought a grimace to his face. "Abigail Victoria Evans—you open this door this instant, young lady."

Lali's hands were over her mouth in shock and her eyes were huge. "Daddy," she whispered anxiously, "Is Abby about to get a spankin'?"

Sam so badly wanted to laugh, because her expression was hilarious, but he was worried about his wife and his eldest child's fate. "Let's hope not, Lali-Bug," Sam told her as he stood up from the couch. He set his five-year old on the floor. "I'm going to go help mommy, sweetheart. Why don't you color some more pictures?"

"Can we put them up?" Lali asked.

"Yeah, I'll help you frame them later, okay?"

"'Kay, daddy," Lali agreed. Sam turned and high-tailed it upstairs as she sat down in her previous place and started coloring again.

September 2, 2029 (Monday)

Evans' Home—Living Room

Huntington, NY

5:59PM

As soon as he spotted her from the landing of the stairs, Sam knew that his wife was done with their daughter's sudden bad attitude. Her body language spoke volumes: hands on her hips, feet shoulder width apart and the expression she wore was dangerous.

"I will give you five seconds to open this door, Abigail," she said, "And if I have to open it—I will take you over my knee, spank you and then I'll ground you for a month."

"Go away!"

"Every second I wait—I'm adding a week to your sentence—"Her voice was thunderous and Sam knew that she was about to bust down their kid's door. He walked towards her.

"Cede," he called softly and her gaze swung to him. He almost flinched when he realized just how pissed off she was. There was no talking her down when she got to this point. And he couldn't blame her, really.

Abigail was usually a sweet girl—she had attitude of course; she was the daughter of Mercedes Jones, but she always had good manners, did all her homework, played sports, hung out with friends. They had never had a serious problem with her before—except when she was two and kept trying to wander off everywhere.

But ever since she'd been invited to this Welcome Back Slumber party that one of the kids at her school was throwing—she'd been practically insufferable. It didn't help that both he and Mercedes flat out told her no.

They would've been fine with it—but they had never met this girl or her parents. And Abigail knew the rules. If we don't know them—we have to meet them and if we haven't known them for at least three weeks—you're not staying at their house unsupervised; especially not for a slumber party.

It had been that way all her life—and the rule applied to her, her eleven-year old brother Lane, and Lali. It wasn't going to magically change.

Mercedes made a frustrated motion towards the door and Sam sighed heavily. He hated doing this, but this situation had gone on long enough.

"Abby, open the door," he said—loud enough for her to hear through the wooden door separating them.

"No!" she shouted back, and Sam was not happy.

"Abigail," he said—his voice low and intense, "That wasn't a request."

It was silent for a moment, but the door swung open a second or two later.

Her face was streaked with tears and her brown eyes were angry. Sam's heart clenched—he hated it when his kids cried, but she wasn't getting out of this one.

"I've had enough of this," he said and she opened her mouth to say something. Sam shot her a look and she fell silent. "The answer is no. It's not going to change—no matter how much you yell or scream or cry. This rule was decided upon before you were born and it's not changing now. Do you understand me?"

The meek nod he got in reply made him continue, "Your attitude leaves much to be desired. For that alone, you're grounded for the next two weeks, but what I'm mostly upset about is the disrespect you've given your mom and I for the last week. You don't ever slam a door in your mother's face—am I clear?"

"Yes daddy," she replied—her eyes suddenly swelling with tears again. This time her gaze wasn't as angry—much more guilty and ashamed. Sam really hoped she was coming back down to earth; he had no desire to punish her even more.

"Good," Sam said, "but just to make sure that I'm crystal clear—you're grounded for a month and a half after that two weeks."

The devastated look on her face almost broke his resolve, but he wasn't going to let any disrespect to her mother slide. She would learn her lesson—and she would know it for the rest of her life.

"As of this moment, all your phone, TV, and social internet privileges have been taken away," Sam told her and Abigail really started crying then. His heart strings were being tugged in every direction, but those bright brown eyes weren't going to get him this time. "Hand over the cell-phone and your laptop—I'll block all the sites I want on your computer until this punishment is over. You're on twice a week trash duty and you come straight home after rehearsals or practice."

"I have a group project coming up next week," Abigail told him and Sam nodded.

"Then you can use the house phone for it," Mercedes replied, "And only when one of us is present."

Nodding, Abigail did as she was told, but once Sam dismissed her she fled back into her room and closed the door gently. They both heard her start sobbing though.

Mercedes walked down the hallway and went straight into the master bedroom. He could tell that she was still mad as hell. Sam followed her—his daughter's cell-phone and laptop in his hands.

He sat them down on the desk and then dropped into the desk chair.

"I feel like the worst dad on the planet," Sam groaned. He hated when he had to yell at his munchkins. They were so cute and smart and he hated seeing them cry, but his parents had disciplined him as a child and he'd turned out pretty nicely.

"Boy, don't even!" Mercedes told him. Sam looked over at her and laughed at the sarcastic look she was giving him. She was so beautiful—he loved just looking at her.

Her hair was lightly curled today and it fell around her shoulders. She was wearing an ivory sweater dress with a wide scoop neck. The sleeves started just below her shoulders—leaving her neck and the top of her shoulders bare. She used a darn brown leather belt to create an empire waist and the rest of the dress flared out until it stopped a couple of inches above her knee. She had been wearing a pair of brown leather boots earlier, but he guessed that she'd taken them off when she got back from picking up Abigail.

She had lost weight over the years, which Sam was still conflicted about. He liked his lady just fine however she was, but Mercedes was one determined woman—especially when it came to her children.

During all three pregnancies—Mercedes ate fruits and vegetables and memorized a low fat cook book. She took a ton of vitamins and walked for two hours every morning and night. It was definitely something to see—he'd been dragged along for all of it. She told him the only reason she did it was because she wanted to give her kids the best life possible and he fell even more in love with her after that.

Sam thought it was cute how she was so protective over their kids.

"What'd I do now?" he joked as he stood up from his chair.

Mercedes shook her head. "How can you possibly think that you're a horrible dad? Did you see how quickly her attitude changed when you were doing the yelling?"

"Are you saying I'm scary?" Sam asked—finally getting close enough to his wife to place his hands on her waist. With a sigh, she leaned back into his chest. Sam wrapped his arms around her and he felt her fingers trace across the back of his hand—lingering on the cool metal of his silver wedding band.

"I'm saying that they listen immediately when you talk," Mercedes replied, "which makes no sense because you're such a softie!"

"That's probably why, Lady," Sam responded and Mercedes threw her arms into the air out of frustration.

"Does that make me the mean old lady?" she grumped. Sam laughed and pulled away so he could turn her around. She looked up at him with those brown eyes and Sam frowned when he saw how upset she was.

"They don't think you're the mean old lady, Cede," Sam answered, "Abigail just finds it easier to get mad at you, because she's so much like you."

"Nope, that's your daughter," she told him.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she's a mini you," Sam replied, "Which is why you get into so many arguments. And that also explains why she likes me so much."

"Wow, Sam," Mercedes said, "make me feel better there!"

"She'll cool down, Lady," Sam told her, "She just needs to cry it out, gain some perspective, and she'll get her head on straight. Sound familiar to anyone?"

"Nope," Mercedes replied making Sam laugh.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked in amusement.

"That doesn't sound familiar at all," Mercedes responded, "My husband is delusional!"

"Delusional?" Sam said with a laugh, "You do the exact same thing!"

"No, I don't," Mercedes protested—Sam wasn't fooled; he could see the amusement building in her eyes. Which explains why she tried to get out of his embrace, but that wasn't going to fly with him.

"Yes, you do," Sam said as he held her tighter—she started squirming around, her smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"No, I really don't," Mercedes answered.

"How is your reaction any different?" Sam questioned and Mercedes stopped wriggling enough to shoot him a coy look from under her lashes.

"I usually get to have angry sex before I calm down," she told him—and Sam's jaw dropped open slightly in shock. Mercedes burst out laughing and he couldn't help snickering with her.

He really hadn't been expecting that answer, but she was quite impish at times. And Mercedes during pregnancy had been near insatiable—he was a very happy man those years.

"Does this time count too?" Sam asked hopefully.

"No!" Mercedes responded, "I'm still mad at you for stealing all the blankets last night!"

Last night had been a good night too. Sam was very aware that Mercedes loved sex just as much as he did. The first two years they had been married—Lord, they'd had sex everywhere. It made him blush sometimes to think about the things that they did back then, before the kids and their rise in careers.

Not to say that they had slowed down in any way—they got their groove on at least three times a week. Sam was a lucky man.

"You weren't complaining before we fell asleep," Sam told her with a smug smile. Mercedes rolled her eyes in fond amusement.

"It's almost fall. I woke up naked and freezing, Sam!" she said, "No matter how wonderful your mouth is—it doesn't make up for hypothermia!"

She had been a sight to see this morning though. All that soft, beautiful, brown skin on display for him—he hadn't been able to resist getting a taste. She drove him crazy and she knew it.

"You should have said something—I have plenty of ways to warm you up, Lady," he replied and Mercedes blushed. After all their adventures, his wife still blushed whenever he made a direct comment like that. Sam found it adorable.

"Boy, you need to stop!"

"Didn't hear you saying that last night either," Sam teased and Mercedes slapped his chest.

"Sam!"

Ignoring her light protests, he leaned forward and used his hand to move her hair out of the way. Sam started placing light kisses all along her collarbones and shoulders. He could never get enough of the little sounds she made every time he'd suck on this one spot at the junction between her neck and shoulder.

In fact—Sam trailed his mouth over and licked the side of her neck. He was satisfied to hear the soft hitch in her breathing—something that was made even better when she tilted her head to the side; giving him more freedom.

"We don't have time—to, uh, do this right now," Mercedes' words were a bit distracted and Sam knew he was doing his job right.

"And why not?" Sam asked in between kisses. He traveled across her chest and up the other side of her neck. Her hands slid up his arms and to his shoulders—Sam pulled her closer. He nipped at the underside of her jaw and he smiled into her skin when he heard her soft gasp.

"There's dinner to be made. I have to, oh, start some more laundry," Mercedes answered, "And you have to pick up Lane from his friend's house at seven, and I have a video conference with my producer at eight." Her breathing was heavier and her voice was thick with arousal—Sam laughed lightly; she wasn't fooling him.

In response to her statements, Sam sucked hard on her sweet spot and her hands clenched the fabric of his t-shirt. The sound she let out made his own arousal spike. His hands gripped her hips and using his mouth—he made a trail from her jaw to her ear.

"Sam, this really isn't—and—oh!"

Sam stopped her from talking by sucking on her earlobe. He tugged lightly with his teeth, before he felt her hand grip the hair on the back of his head. She forcibly pulled his head away, and Sam didn't have time to say anything, before her mouth was on his and she was kissing the shit out of him.

Her hands were all up in his hair as she moved her lips against his—it was hard but passionate and the way she bit his lip drove him fucking crazy. He inched her back towards the bed—hoping she wouldn't notice, but Mercedes felt the back of her knees hit the side of the mattress and she pulled away abruptly.

"Baby, we can't," she told him—she was completely breathless and Sam could see that she wanted this just as much as he did, but there really was no time. He glanced at the clock from the corner of his eye and was dismayed to realize that it was twenty minutes until seven.

Sam pouted and Mercedes laughed. "Oh, poor Sammy," she teased as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Sam rested his forehead against hers—finally giving up.

"I almost had you, too!" he said, making her smile.

"You had definitely had me," Mercedes told him—her fingers combing through the locks she had messed up not moments before. "You just got cock-blocked by life, honey."

Sam laughed and placed a sweet kiss on her lips. His wife was so pretty. Sam brushed a few runaway strands of hair behind her ear.

"You really have to vid-conference with your producer tonight?" he asked.

"Yes, Sam," she replied, "We need to work on some new material that I've been writing and since I won't head back into the city until next week—I need to talk to him now."

Mercedes had made it big in the music and fashion world. She'd been signed to Ahern Records almost three months after they graduated from college. Mercedes was that girl—she'd graduated summa cum laude with not one, but three degrees—Fashion Design, Music Performance (Piano), and Forensic Anthropology. She'd earned a certificate in business and she did all of this while being the lead vocalist/director for the NYU competition choir.

Now, she had two platinum albums and she ran her own fashion line called Naturally, which had clothing designed for women of all sizes. She was a busy woman, but she'd made some executive shots so they could be a family.

They took up residence in Huntington, New York—located north of the Stanton Islands and it was about a two-hour commute to New York City. She only went into the city every once in awhile, because she recorded at a studio in Huntington and she designed from home. Tours were difficult, though. They both decided that the kids needed a stable environment to be in—so they would sometimes fly out to see her shows whenever they could.

Sam had gone with her on her first and second tour, but after she'd had Abigail, he stayed home when she left. They'd video chat and call every night without fail; it was hard, but they made it through.

She had her own shop in the city as well as one here. She would have to fly out to fashion shows, and her work during Fashion week was a nightmare, but she'd either take the whole family with her on mini-vacations or just one of the kids.

It worked out—and mostly because Quinn was her partner. Quinn was in New York City, where she and her husband lived together in a townhouse about thirty minutes from Times Square. Quinn ran the shop in New York City and Mercedes took care of the one out here.

So, yeah she was busy, but she was never truly absent.

"Fine," Sam said sadly and she kissed him again.

"You know how it is," she told him and Sam did know.

He hadn't gone for fame in music—he got lucky as a sophomore in college when he designed a comic that he posted online and it went viral. He had four current comic series out right now and he loved his job way too much. He had an art studio built in the house they had here, but Sam still played guitar.

He owned a small music school in Huntington where he gave guitar, piano, and drum lessons to the local kids. Mercedes would come in sometimes and give free vocal lessons—she was well-loved.

They'd chosen this city, because it had trees and areas for the kids to play outside. It was a lot safer than New York City, and the school they had in their district was a bilingual school with an excellent educational program. Mercedes had made sure of that. Sam had almost felt sorry for the schools they interviewed with—she had gone in after doing vigorous research and pretty much grilled every principal.

He thought it was worth it though.

Abigail, Lane, and Lali were fluent in Spanish. Sam was jealous of it sometimes, but he was more proud than anything. Mercedes could speak Spanish, Italian, and French—but that was because her family had done extensive traveling when she was younger.

"Okay, okay," Sam agreed, "I'll let you blue ball me this time."

Mercedes laughed, before she pulled him into another kiss. "I love you, Blondie," she told him.

"I love you too, Nala."

I hope you guys enjoyed it! Review and tell me what you thought! Until next time! :D