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Section 1 (Instalment 2, done)
Word count: 2 247


Max walked through the wards carefully, and into the home he shared with his wife, his Claudia. The home where their children had been raised, and where tomorrow night, their grandchildren's children would be running around, most likely. Crossing the threshold... was just coming home, simple and perfect. The home that even after almost a century he couldn't take for granted.

Raising children. It had been... such a long time ago. So exhausting and so wonderful. Maybe we could try for another one. One of these days. He smiled at that thought. For some reason, he decided that Dia might actually like the idea. With long lectures about what he'll have to do and not do while she's pregnant. Not that his memories about that had faded or anything, the time hadn't been nearly long enough for that. On the other hand, the glow she got then? Worth having to occasionally spend the night on the couch. Or even completely out of the house. And the feel of the newborn life in my arms.

That, too.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Why hadn't he come up with it sooner? Maybe because the party was going to bring them all together tomorrow and that was a good thing, and they could make it better for the next time? It was something to bring up to Dia anyway. Maybe not immediately, but one of these days. He ran his fingers through his own graying hair after hanging on his coat and taking off his shoes, and started down the hallway.

His wife's and firstborn's quiet, relaxed voices were drifting out from the living room. He padded quietly there and then stood quietly in the doorway, just looking at them. Basking in the sight and sound. He always did. His home. His family. No matter how grown Samantha was. Or that she was married herself. Or that her children had children. His daughter.

And his Claudia. It was her presence in the house that embraced him when he crossed the threshold. Her scent in the air, the shampoo mixed with laundry softener mixed with random spell or potions ingredients mixed with freshly baked something mixed with faint smell of dust, the kind that only collected on books. And she was right there, the light from the nightshade embracing her as light tended to usually, the live eyes animated in discussion of... yes, planning for the party, last minute arrangements. They both seemed fairly involved in items of catering that even he could get lost on, if given the chance, and most men would likely just stare blankly at the mention of.

Not that he was given more than a few moments to just watch; Dia's eyes lifted up and lit up at seeing him. Sammy turned to follow her look and smiled in turn, even though the words of greeting had a bit of a fake bite. "Running late again, dad? I guess you'll never learn."

He stepped into the room and obediently leaned to kiss her cheeks, guided so by her outstretched arms. She was smiling too. Happy. The two of them content, busy like that. Not rushed into anything, not worried, not upset. It was as close to happiness as he could imagine. "Guilty as charged, my princess. Although I believe I've not managed to really get into trouble this time." The embrace would have been awkward, across the back of the couch that she was sitting on - if it were most other people. Generally, hugs never ended up awkward if he was involved, though.

Then he straightened up and met Dia's eyes again. No, he wasn't into too much trouble, judging by the light in those eyes. A couple of steps, with Sammy's voice murmuring a quiet, "no, I suppose not, yet," and his arms were around her, hers slipping up to hold him in return.

Her voice was laced with laughter as she quipped, "no, but you were cutting it close, handsome."

"Ow. I'll have to make up for it, then."

"Yep. I'm rather looking forward to it."

Max laughed, then pulled her up only so he could sit down and let her settle against him, arms going on around her warm and snug. "Yes, ma'am." His eyes rose to meet their daughter's amused look, and he said blandly, "don't let me interrupt you now, though. I believe you were considering, mmm, lemonade glasses?"

That got Sammy to laugh in return, "you're impossible. You expect us to just go along and go on... whatever we were talking about?"

Max pretended to think this over for a moment, then grinned, "yes?" That got him a light slap on his arm, and he nuzzled into Dia's hair to stifle his chuckle. "Right, I guess my sneaky plan to not disturb your chat has utterly and completely failed. How are you, princess? Everything going alright? Did you all arrive safely, or did you get here ahead of the band?"

Their daughter laughed again, and started answering the questions in turn. Asking some of her own. Which got to more questions, and only a little nudging did lead the conversation back to its original course in due time, and he just leaned back, Dia curled against him when she wasn't up and sitting upright in his lap, explaining something. His fingers played with strands of her hair until the topic shifted again, to family gossip. Of course, tomorrow would be the major event in the area, but that didn't mean that they didn't enjoy all swapping news, of various recency, until it was time for Sammy to call it a day and drive back to her husband at wherever it was they were staying - no, there she was, giving the address. Tomorrow, the house would be full, and not a few would be staying overnight, so Sammy had opted for leaving space available. Not that they'd mind the cramming, really...

At the doorway, he gave and received another hug. "Good night, princess. See you tomorrow."

"You'll always call me that, won't you? No matter how old I am."

"Of course. Age has nothing to do with the fact that you're my princess." That got him another hug, which was absolutely fine by him. "Greetings to--"

"If you call him 'the boy' again, I might punch you."

Max grinned in return, but abstained from actually doing it after a slight poke in the ribs from Dia. "Fine. Say hi to him from me. Drive safe, both ways?"

Eyeroll, and a grin. "Of course, dad. Take care. Don't be late tomorrow." And she was gone.

Which was all the prompt he needed to wrap an arm around her mother's waist and draw her in for a long kiss of their very own. His Dia. For him, now. Eventually, they pulled slightly back, and he murmured, "and how are you, beautiful?"

"Couldn't be better." And the way her body was melting against his, the sparkle in her eyes? Yes, she was Excited, happy, satisfied, occupied. Perfect.

He grinned, and kissed her again. "Good to hear." And in a bit, once more. "I love you."

"I love you too, handsome." But something in his next kiss got her to frown slightly. "Everything alright, love?"

"Hmm? Yeah, sure it is. It'll be alright after that meeting tomorrow."

"Worried about it, hmm?"

Max shrugged slightly. "Yeah, a little. Shouldn't be anything more than we can handle." Small pause, heading back towards the rooms. More like towards their bedroom, actually. Then, "but I had Stephen pack up and be elsewhere, using a ruse, anyway."

That got her to stiffen slightly against him, but not stop and question. Just in the next step snuggle closer to him.

They made love for a long while, that night. Not because of his hunch, of the worry. Well, mostly not. Just because tomorrow night it would be a nuthouse here, so they just took one more for the road. Or... not for the road. For the party. Whatever that one more was for, he drank deeply. Thrust deeply, kissed deeply. Fingers and ears and eyes and nose tasting of her as much as lips and tongue did, all ways. He knew every curve of her body, but that didn't stop him from kissing or touching or sucking on it, letting passion and want take over, obliterate anything other than this moment, then the next. The soft sighs and moans and tiny motions as moving and deep and important as the cries, the calls of each others' names, the thrusts and archings and sharp, uncontrolled movements. Each position they took, they both gave, and took, and gave and took until at least they lay drained under the covers, tangled as a basket of yarn, as though they wanted to meld against each other's body. And they murmured drowsy, lazy, heartfelt words. More vessels for communication that was happening at another level than actual communication themselves. She remarked that he didn't even actually had dinner, just nibbles snatched at during the talk with Sammy. He reassured her it was fine and he'd make up for it in the morning, which got her to giggle a little and retort that he might, if she let him.

And on and on, quietly. Until they slept, as close to each other as they'd done as newlyweds, and whenever possible after that. Whatever tomorrow might bring, they had tonight. Just as so many tomorrows during the decades. This was no different. This was no less unique. It was him and it was her, and that was all they needed.

She had woken up before him, the next morning. He still rose with a small smile on his face, body warm from what had been, and appetite whetted by the smells that were already drifting in from the kitchen. Oh boy did that smell like she had taken that compensating banter from last night seriously!

He got out from under the covers and showered and dressed, quickly, carefully. Strapped up the necessary equipment; then treaded to the kitchen quietly.

Now, watching Dia in the kitchen had started as something really fine, and had by now grown into something akin to a master at work. Max knew that her father was amazing with cooking as well, but he most definitely, emphatically, and certainly did prefer admiring the daughter. It took him a few seconds to sort out what all that she was getting ready was, and then he chuckled lightly, letting her know he was there before speaking to startle her.

"You making a head start for the party this early in the morning?"

"Something on that scale, it's never too early, handsome." She turned, and got the very much expected kiss, his arms going around her for a moment before she slipped gently out to go on stirring, frying, and checking on the oven. "However, most of this is for you."

"Well, I'm glad it's only most, not even I could take it all in and expect to keep on being able to, say, walk or anything." Her laughter was the answer he got - and then she was heaping a plate with food and that, he could rarely ignore as a hint. Or refuse. It also took him only a few bites to realize that part of the activity was nervousness, this morning.

"You are worried, now."

"Yeah. You usually can't get him to do that unless there's good reasoning. And--"

He was out of his seat and wrapping her arms around her waist, lips soft at the side of her neck before she finished that. (Good to know that his reflexes were still sufficient for thie one. He might need them later today. Then again, all the exercise always would pay off, as Simon tended to say. And demonstrate.) "It will be good, beautiful. It can't be too bad, I mean, I've a party to attend in the evening. I've got to be presentable."

"Max..."

"No, I mean that. I do intend to be here and greeting the guests, just as you and Stephen and Solace have taught me is right for a good host."

"Max! That's for formal balls, not home, family parties!"

He returned a lopsided grin to her half-startled, half-amused look sideways and up at him. "Is it? I must be still getting etiquette mixed up. No tux requirement for tonight then?"

"No!! Go and finish your breakfast now." He got himself a good long kiss first. She was better now, he could tell. So he obeyed, and busied himself appreciating her work. Well, art.

It had been years ago that reassurances stopped being effective on mornings (or afternoons, or evenings) like these. However, his own brand of reassuring - making her laugh - never seemed to wear out.

Dia saw him to the door, after breakfast. Another kiss, and another I-love-you, lips against hers still. And then he started out. Turned, and grinned. "I'll call when I'm heading home to check if there's anything to be gotten in the last minute."

She glared at him, then threw in his direciton a wad of paper from her pocket. "There's never last-minute emergency shopping list on my parties!"

"There's always something to be gotten in the last minute, beautiful. Even if it's just myself."

Her laughter half-drowned the last "see you later, love," and then he was starting the car and pulling off.

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