You know how this shit happens. It's all donnersun's fault. She dares/prompts/cajoles and then I fall down the rabbit hole of writing smutfluff.

This is a little different (and really short): it's a series of not-really-drabbles about Riley and Sam's relationship and how it came to be. It started off with one prompt, "mac and cheese," and turned into this.

It's so sweet it will probably gross you out. But then there's a lemon to make up for it. :)

Thanks to all those who reviewed and faved this little story.

First Date

"I run every week day, just a few miles, so I can stay in shape," I tell him, not missing the way his eyes flicker down to my chest and my stomach.

"That's cool," he says, taking a long sip of his martini. "I play a lot of sports, soccer and stuff."

"Cool." I nod and take a sip of my own drink, clearing my throat awkwardly to break the first date, getting to know you kind of silence. There's something I need to tell him now, to make sure he understands my priorities, but sometimes its hard to explain. I take another quick drink to bolster my courage.

"I have a son," I tell him, the words rushing out over my tongue. Riley's mouth opens to respond, but I cut him off. "I have a son, and he's amazing. He's three years old, and he stays with me every weekend, and he's the most important thing in my life. I just... yeah. Wanted to tell you. I have a son."

Riley waits patiently for me to finish, a small smile on his face. This is the scary part of first dates for me-usually guys have a lot of questions, or they pretend like it's okay but never call me again. There aren't a lot of twenty-something gay guys looking for a boyfriend who can't go out on the weekends and knows more about Wonder Pets than the local club scene.

I take a deep breath and watch Riley's smile grow.

"Awesome," he breathes. "That's awesome. What's his name?"

Two Weeks

He talks the whole time.

I'm almost done with dinner and Riley's barely eaten anything, because he's talking animatedly about this graphic design project he's working on. He can't stop talking about how amped up he is about this idea, how it's going to revolutionize the website he's working for, how he can't wait to get to work every morning and find more ways to make it better.

He's smart. He's passionate. He's interesting.

It's hot.

"Riley?" I ask, finally interrupting him when he stops to take a bite of his chicken.

"Mmmm?"

"Let's go to my place. After dinner."

He chews slowly, nodding as though he's thinking, and then swallows. I bite my lip and wait for his reaction.

"Yeah, okay," he says, grinning.

Two Months

"I don't get it," Riley says, peeking over my shoulder. "Why don't you just make the blue box stuff?"

"Baby, this is gonna be so much better than that bland, cardboard crap," I assure him, turning my head to kiss his cheek as I stir.

"But I'm used to the cardboard crap." He hops up on the counter next to the stove to watch me work. "It's bland. It's safe."

"Mmmhmm. And what happened the last time you decided to try something spicy?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Riley smirks and leans in for a long, slow kiss. "Point taken."

Four Months

"Levi, buddy, come and meet my friend," I call, squeezing Riley's hand in reassurance. We're starting to get serious, but I know things can't progress any further until he meets my son.

Levi runs over to us but stops short when he looks up and sees Riley's unfamiliar face.

"Say hello," I prompt him softly, and he comes closer to me and buries his face in my leg.

Riley takes the lead, crouching down to Levi's level, and waits until my son looks up.

"Hi, little man."

Levi looks up … and grins.

For the first time today, I breathe easy.

Nine Months

"Are you sure he's gonna be okay with it?" Riley asks, propping himself up on his elbow.

"He's four. He'll be fine."

"But what if he-"

"Riley. Seriously, it's gonna be fine," I promise, pushing him to his back. I throw my leg over his and pin him down, hoping to distract him.

"I just... I don't want to cause any problems." His breath is warm against my neck and his body is still tense. I tilt my head up and kiss his lips softly.

"You're not a problem. You're my boyfriend, and I love you. I want you here-in my apartment, in my bed-every day. You make me happy, and that means Levi will be happy. Stop. Worrying." Riley wraps a warm hand around the back of my neck, pulls me in close, and smiles against my lips.

"I love you too."

Ten Months

"Thanks for coming over," I tell Emily. She smiles, obviously nervous, and edges past me into the apartment.

"Sure," she says. "I mean, yeah. Thanks for inviting me. Thanks for... for doing this."

I told her last Sunday that Riley is moving in next month. That he's more than just a boyfriend, and that he'll be a bigger part of Levi's life from now on.

She wanted to meet him.

In what is possibly the most awkward dinner of all time, we take turns making small talk. Riley talks about his family. Emily talks about work. I rack my brain trying to think of something, anything, they might have in common.

In the end, the only thing they have in common-the one topic of conversation that leaves us all relaxed and smiling-is Levi.

When Emily leaves, I lean down to kiss her cheek. She stills me with a hand on my shoulder and whispers so Riley can't hear.

"He's a good guy, Sam. I'm glad you found him."

Eighteen Months

I shift the laundry basket to my hip and reach up to pinch Riley's ass as he climbs the stairs in front of me.

He yelps and hurries, taking the stairs two at a time, and beats me to my front door.

Our front door.

We empty our baskets out on the bed, and I smile as our clothes fall out. Not Riley's clothes and my clothes, but our whites and our dress shirts, all mixed up together.

"What are you grinning about?" he asks, tossing a balled up pair of socks at my chest.

"Nothing." I blush, looking down at the shirt I'm folding. Riley's been teasing me about how domestic I've gotten since he moved in.

"Sam," he says, his voice hoarse. I look up and his face is suddenly sad-at first I think he's holding his hand out for me, but then I see that he's holding a sock.

One tiny sock.

"I kind of miss him during the week," Riley admits. "Is that weird?"

"No," I tell him, reaching out to grab the little sock. "I miss him too."

Two Years

"Hurry the fuck up," Riley growls, hooking his fingers in my belt loops. I'm pressing him up against the door, fumbling with my keys while he kisses and nips at my neck.

"If you'd stop distracting me I could get it."

"Oh you're gonna get it," he teases, grinding against my thigh.

"Goddammit, Riley," I moan, twisting the right key in the lock and pushing the door open. He stumbles backwards, pulling me with him, and I barely have time to kick the door closed before Riley starts pulling off my clothes.

"Bedroom," I groan.

"Fuck that." He tugs at the buttons on my shirt fruitlessly, then gives up and pulls it apart, sending buttons flying.

"Jesus."

"I want you," he says, biting his lip and looking a little abashed.

"You want my cock? Is that what you want?" I push him backwards, cupping his jaw in my hand, and his wicked grin returns.

"Yeah. Slow and gentle, right?" he teases, and I know he wants anything but.

"You wish," I counter, grabbing his elbow and turning him abruptly. I yank his jeans down to his knees and push him forward onto the couch, onto his knees, before roughly tugging his jeans and socks off over his feet.

"Sam," he rasps, looking over his shoulder.

"I know." I push my jeans and my boxers down, but I don't bother taking them off. I fit my body to his and he pushes back against me, reaching back to wrap an arm around my neck as I line my cock up between his cheeks.

"Oh, fuck," Riley mutters, before turning to kiss me desperately. I grind against him as we kiss, reaching around to stroke him slowly. "Sam, go get some lube," he whispers.

He doesn't have to tell me twice. I pull my pants up just enough so they don't inhibit walking and hightail it to the bedroom. I kick off my shoes and my pants, grab lube and a condom from my nightstand, and head back to the living room all in about ten seconds flat.

When I get back, Riley's still kneeling on the couch but he's reaching behind himself, moaning and shifting. I know exactly what he's doing, and I want to watch. I move quietly around the couch until I'm behind him again, and Riley smiles at me as he works two spit-slicked fingers in and out of his ass.

"Couldn't wait?" I ask, slapping his ass cheek lightly.

"Need you, Sam." He starts to pull his hand away, but I reach out and stop him.

"Keep doing that," I beg, fumbling with the lube. I pop the lid open and bring it close to Riley's hand, drizzling some over the fingers that he's using to stretch himself. "God, you look so fucking hot." I pour more lube into my hand and stroke my cock slowly, shuddering as I suppress the urge to jerk hard and cum now.

When he's ready, when he stops stretching himself and begs me to fuck him, I push him forward a little on the couch so I can kneel between his legs. He wavers, unsteady on his knees, and bats a pillow out of his way.

"Ow!" he hisses, just as I start rubbing my cock against his hole. I back away instantly and rub his sides.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Legos," Riley grumbles.

"Huh?"

He holds up a big chunk of blue plastic. "Legos, I kneeled right on top of them."

It's really hard not to laugh as he digs legos out from behind the couch cushion and chucks them over the back of the couch. "Are you okay, baby?" I ask, biting my lip.

"Mmhmm."

"Think we can keep going?"

"You'd better keep going," he threatens, pushing his ass back against me. I laugh and slap it playfully before kissing his neck and lining myself up again. Riley hisses when I push inside, but it's the familiar pain-and-pleasure sound I know so well-the sound I love.

"Can you take it all?" I whisper, scraping his neck with my teeth as I push myself all the way inside.

"Fuck. You know I can."

I try to start slow, I really do, but Riley's got me so worked up that it's only minutes before I'm digging my fingers into his skin and fucking him hard. He doesn't seem to mind, balancing with one forearm on the back of the couch while he jerks himself off with his other hand.

"Harder, fuck me harder. Sam, I fucking need it, fuck me, fuck me," he chants, his head falling forward onto his forearm as his whole body tenses. I give him just what he needs, fucking him steadily through his orgasm until he's a limp, twitching, moaning mess.

"Okay?" I ask softly, moving slower now as he recovers. I lean forward and snake my arms underneath his, helping to brace him as he moves both shaking hands to the back of the couch.

"God, so good. I'm okay, yeah," he says, turning to kiss my jaw. I take my time, loving him slowly, until he's recovered enough for me to chase my own orgasm. Riley is sweet, reaching back to stroke my hip and whispering how much he loves me, how much he wants me inside of him all the time.

When I come, I yell out his name.

Exhausted now, I rest against his back for a few seconds before tugging him down onto the couch with me. I pull him on top of me and kiss him as he snuggles close, wiggling around to find a comfortable spot until-

"Ow, motherfucker," I groan, reaching between my back and the couch.

"Lego?" Riley asks, kissing my chest.

"Fucking Lego."

"Hurts, right?" Riley says, grinning. "Still the best couch sex I ever had, though."

"Me too," I whisper, kissing the top of his head and tossing the last stray Lego behind the couch.

I hope you enjoyed the brief look into their past. I love those two. Thanks for reading!