Disclaimer: I have problems. Oh. And I don't own Glee.
A/N: If you're like me and keeponsmilingg, and deathly afraid of these things, sorry. I don't know why I did this.
As the man of the house, there were certain sounds that gave Sam great comfort and pleasure when he heard them in his home. The sounds that were familiar to him after twenty years of building this life—like the sound of his children's laughter and their excited voices when they spoke; the sound of Mercedes' car pulling into the driveway when she'd been away anywhere; the sound of working appliances that he wouldn't have to fight Mercedes about fixing; the sound of his beer clinking against Mike's right before they got settled in for an afternoon of football (or sci-fi marathoning).
The sound of his wife screaming his name usually held a special gratification, but when the call was severely lacking in lust and laced with terror instead—while he was in another room entirely—the pleasure dissipated and made way for panic.
This was the exact situation Sam found himself in when Mercedes screamed his name that afternoon. Immediately noticing the alarm in her tone, Sam darted off toward the sound, fully intending to fulfill his duty as her husband and keep her from harm's way.
He found her in the kitchen, ducked behind the island, holding her left shoe in her hand. The right one, he noticed, was nowhere to be seen. Her face was the picture of fright, but he was standing in the kitchen with her now and hadn't seen anything that would cause this sort of reaction from her.
He was about to ask her what the hell was going on when he noticed it. There, next to their open breadbox was a squirrel. It took no notice of Sam as it continued to munch on the slice of bread in its hands.
Sam took a long look at the squirrel, allowing himself to fully process the situation, and then he was cowering right next to his wife behind the island. There was a fucking squirrel in the house!
"How the hell did it get in here?" he asked her, whispering as if the squirrel might hear and decide to attack them. His eyes looked at her accusingly and Mercedes momentarily forgot her fear to stare at him in disbelief.
"Why the hell are you asking me?" she whispered back indignantly. "Like I opened the door and invited him in for lunch or something."
"Well, you were in here first," he told her.
"Yeah, to make y'all lunch! Not to invite rodents in to share in our meal!" Mercedes hissed at him.
"What do we do?" he asked then, and Mercedes simply shook her head.
"I don't know. That's why I called you," she told him. "I already tried throwing my shoe at it," Mercedes said. Holding up the one shoe she had left in her possession for emphasis.
Sam's eyes widened and he nodded his head in understanding. He looked at her, expecting her to tell him what happened and she continued.
"I missed," she told him, her eyebrows knitted as she frowned. "Well, I missed the squirrel. You're going to have to ask Lilly to make you another mug the next time we're at Color Me Mine, because I nailed that."
Sam actually frowned when he thought of the lost mug and Mercedes winced, knowing he'd be disappointed.
He'd had it since the first time they'd gone as a family, six months ago—when Lilly was actually old enough to paint something on her own. Sam's birthday had been around the corner and Lilly had decided her Dadda, for she never called him anything else, needed a mug.
She'd painted a picture of the two of them and labeled it Dadda & Lilly. It'd been a proud moment for the 3 year old, who'd just been over the moon that she'd spelled her name correctly. It was also a proud moment for Sam, who was a major sap when it came to his little girl, and had literally fawned over gift. From that day, he'd refused to use any other mug and always proudly showed it off to anyone who came to visit.
Sam tried to be consoled by the fact that they still had a couple dozen pictures of the day, and Lilly would always be happy to go back and create another masterpiece for him. He squeezed Mercedes arm reassuringly to help relieve her guilt and then got back to the matter at hand—the rodent in their kitchen eating their fucking bread.
Sam braved a look over the top of the island, seeing the animal still there—oblivious to the havoc it was creating. He looked around the kitchen for a moment, trying to come up with any sort of plan that would get the intruder outside where he belonged.
Mercedes eyed him curiously, not daring to move. If that bread-eating trespasser decided to do something sinister, she was not going to be the victim. She still had another shoe, and she wasn't afraid to use it. She clutched it closer to her, taking comfort in her chosen weapon.
Suddenly Sam dropped back down to the floor with a smug gleam in his eyes. "I have an idea," he whispered conspiratorially with a giddy grin. Mercedes would have laughed at his expression if not for the paralyzing terror keeping her stuck to her spot.
"What?" she whispered back, but he was already duck-walking away into the pantry across from them. Seconds later, he reemerged, waving a can of mixed nuts at her triumphantly, before he duck-walked back to his spot next to her.
Mercedes struggled between laughing at his ridiculousness and rewarding his brilliance with a kiss. In the end, her fear won out and she only watched his actions with wide eyes—entirely interested in what he'd do next.
He handed her the can when he got close enough to her, then chanced another look over the island. Only his eyes peeked over the counter, watching the squirrel's every move intently. Seeing the squirrel was still occupied, he crept along leaving a trail of peanuts, cashews, and almonds in his wake. The trail led to the backdoor, which Sam slowly opened, before turning to face the intruder again.
Watching the animal closely, Sam removed his shoe, intending to use it as a shield in case anything went down.
The squirrel stopped its munching to look in the direction of the bright sun coming from the open doorway. Sam internally cheered. This was so going to work! He looked back to smile reassuringly at Mercedes, but she still hadn't dared to move from her spot, and was still hidden away behind the island.
To Sam's dismay, when he returned his gaze to the squirrel, it'd resumed its munching, seemingly uninterested in returning to its natural habitat at the moment. Fuck!
He did the most logical thing that came to mind then, and began chucking peanuts, cashews, and almonds at the animal—because this would surely get its attention and make it proceed to the door in a calm and orderly manner, without any further trouble.
One minute the squirrel was eating its stolen bread, the next it was scurrying off the counter after being hit with a slew of nuts, and away from Sam and the door—towards Mercedes hiding spot.
Before he could warn her, the squirrel scurried onto the floor and around the island startling her.
What happened next could only be described as mayhem. Mercedes shot up screaming for dear life, arms and legs thrashing about. She threw the shoe she'd been holding, and it clattered as it landed on a stack of dishes, rustling them and causing a few to fall from the rack where they'd been drying. The squirrel, startled by the unexpected commotion, circled toward Sam again, this time racing for the open doorway—not once stopping to regard the trail of nuts he'd left. Sam slammed the door closed the second the squirrel crossed the threshold and prayed it would never return.
Mercedes was so petrified and upset that she hadn't noticed and continued lose her mind with every additional second. Sam couldn't make out all of the words she screamed in her terrified state, but what he did let him know that he had to calm her down or she would be passing out soon.
He wanted to laugh, but he bit it back, choosing instead to deal with her panic attack. Besides, what fun would it be if she was way too freaked to even stop and glare at him like she normally would? He'd tease her later, when he could actually get some of that sass he loved for his troubles.
He gently reached out his hands to steady hers, which were still swatting at every inch of her crawling skin. Hysterical didn't even cover it right now.
"Oh my God, Sam! It's on me! Get it off me! Get it away! Oh my God! I'm burning my fucking clothes! Sam! Get it off! Oh my God! We have to move!" Mercedes' words were mixed in with random screams and thrashing—she practically clawed at him, her eyes were still closed, as she tried to get rid of the long-gone squirrel.
"Baby, it's gone," he said in the softest voice he could muster, hoping to break through her haze. "Hey," he said, grabbing her face when she continued screaming. He spoke soothingly into her ear, asking her to calm down and holding her tightly—wincing but not moving away as her hand hit at him. His grit was soon rewarded when she finally started to relax and stopped moving about.
Her eyes popped open and she momentarily looked around the kitchen, trying to located the animal, as she pressed herself into Sam to shield herself. She finally noticed their intruder had made his exit and breathed a sigh of relief. She turned back to her husband then, using his comforting eyes to steady her. Immediately her grip on Sam's arms changed. She removed her nails from the grooves they'd been digging into his skin, and threw her arms around his neck—sagging into him as she tried to control her breathing.
He stayed steadily rubbing circles into her back, helping her relax.
"How the hell did that thing get in here?" Mercedes said after a while. "We have to find how and fix it, or we have to move."
Sam started to laugh, but choked on it when Mercedes sent a glare his way. The look on her face indicated she was not even close to joking. Sam immediately got started on looking. He'd find the problem and fix it. They'd been living in this house for fourteen years, he happened to be quite fond of it.
Meanwhile in Lilliana's room…
Cameron was rushing toward the kitchen after hearing a succession of screams. It sounded as if someone was getting murdered. His parents always got up to weird shenanigans at any given time, on any given day, but they weren't prone to screaming bloody murder for the heck of it. What in the world was going on?
He stopped short, however, seeing his three-year old sister standing near her bedroom window. Normally, that wasn't an odd sight, Lilly liked to look outside and talk to the birds and other animals. He was startled however by the gaping hole in the screen window. It seemed Lilly had applied pressure with her little hands against the screen until it popped out on the edge. Cameron could see the little hand marks in the material.
What's more, Lilly had taken her snack and was reaching her hand through the hole to leave them on her window sill. A squirrel sat further down on the sill, nibbling on the snacks.
"Oh my God, Lills! What are you doing sweetheart?" he said, scooping up the toddler. Her bottom lip quivered as if she would cry when the squirrel scurried away and Cameron shut the window. Cameron hugged her to him tightly and promised he'd take her outside to play in an effort to placate her.
"I was playing with the 'scuorwol'," Lilly told him, with a pout. "He's 'hungwy'."
Cameron smiled at her. "Yeah, but you gotta play with the squirrels outside, Lills. That's where they belong. If you play with them in here, they'll get inside and they'll be sad because we don't have any nice trees or anything. Do you want him to be sad?"
Lilliana's big brown eyes widened adorably in concern, and she shook her head adamantly. "'Sowwy scuorwol,'" she offered to the long-gone animal, truly feeling bad she'd almost made him sad.
They were about to find out how wrong they were as Cameron carried his sister toward the kitchen, to tell his parents about the busted screen. Apparently, an open breadbox could keep a squirrel perfectly happy indoors.
Cameron expected his dad would want to fix the broken screen as soon as possible. He knew how his mother got about random bugs getting inside.
He didn't expect to find them both crawling along the kitchen floor staring intently at all of the cabinets and every inch of the room. Fifteen years with these parents, this didn't even broach the top ten of the wackiest things he'd seen, but he was still at a loss.
There was never a dull moment in the Evans household. He shook his head, smiling fondly as he continued to walk toward them. He set Lilly on her feet, and the three-year old immediately thought it was a game and started to crawl around with her parents, squealing something about 'horsies' and 'fun'.
Cameron didn't really want to know, but he'd ask anyway. The tale was sure to be amusing.
"Do I even wanna know?" he asked taking a seat at the kitchen island. He lifted his feet off the floor as Sam crawled by him.
"You wouldn't even believe it," Sam told his son. "A squirrel got in here somehow and took all of our bread hostage. Scared the crap out of your mom," Sam said, seemingly forgetting he'd been right there cowering with his wife behind the island mere minutes ago.
Mercedes would have shot Sam a look then, but Cameron fell out laughing, drawing both of his parents' attention to him.
"Oh, you'll just love this," Cameron started, knowing he'd enjoy relaying this story.
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