Mama

Spencer was leaning forward at his laptop, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he tapped away. Brandon was apparently called away to play 'chef' to Finch. Annoyed, Spencer decided to destroy some lives (bad lives, but lives nonetheless) while he waited for one of his two lovers to return home. Time ticked away as the young dominant revealed carefully gained bits of information on three of his most hated posters on the forums.

The window slid up, Abby scrambling in from the fire escape. Her hair hung over her eye, her jeans ripped at the knee, blood seeping into vintage denim.

"Abby!" Spencer shouted, shoving his glasses up his nose as he slammed the laptop closed. He hopped off the bed, catching her about the waist. "We have a door."

"Someone might be watchin' the door," Abby breathed. She hadn't broken her ribs, but she was sure they were bruised to say the least. She gulped, waiting for the moment he would pull back her hair to reveal the shiner beneath. "No one ever looks at the window."

"I do," Spencer said, leading her to the bed. "You're bleeding, too." He bent plucking at her jeans. "You should get these off."

She shook her head. "I'll take a shower first, clean it up a bit. Make sure there ain't anythin' in the cut." Cuts.

Spencer looked up, pushing her hair from her face. He winced. "Some friends?" he asked, tilting her face to the light.

The swollen purple and yellow skin spread over her cheekbone. "What can I say? Me friends ge' a little rough when they're drinkin'."

Spencer's lips tightened. "Off with it all," he said. "I could use a shower myself."

Abby stood and tugged her top off on the way to the shower, letting it hang over the back of his chair. She lowered her arms with wince and a whimper, unzipping her jeans. Spencer reached around to help her pull off the jeans.

"I've got a solution to pull the blood out," he murmured. "I'll grab the first aid from the kitchen. Go hop in and I'll be there shortly."

Abby nodded, partially comforted, partially afraid of what was to come. What he would think of her. She staggered tiredly into the bathroom, turning on the taps. Her knee stung, but so did the bruises on her torso. She stepped under the hot spray, letting it wash the grit of the city way from her.

Spencer laid out the jeans, checking her top for more clues. Mushy peas? He sniffed her clothes for scent of alcohol. Non-existent. He furrowed his brows and tugged off his tee shirt before heading to the kitchen for the first aid box.

"Water warm?" he asked, setting the box on the bathroom counter before hooking a thumb in his flannel pants and pushing them down. She hummed appreciatively.

"Yes, blissfully," Abby replied, carefully shampooing her faded locks.

"Mm," Spencer said, stepping into the crowded shower. It wouldn't have worked with him and Bran. But Abby was adorably petite. His body briefly flared with interest until he saw- red blood swirling the bottom of tub. He reached out to touch a few places. "If you piss blood, even a little, hospital. No arguments."

"Understood," Abby said, her voice soft and rough at the same time. She gulped. "It's not that bad."

"I know injuries, Abby. Don't patronize me," Spencer reminded. "You weren't in a bar tonight. Fondness for mushy peas?"

Her back stiffened but that might have been the injury. She shook her head. "Dunno abou' any peas. Had to do a favor for someone I used to know. It ain't go so well. It's all done now, though."

"It better be. That sort of thing is going to get me sectioned or worse," Spencer said, reaching for her bruised face. "Bran or worse, Mum, will think I've done that."

"But you didn't," Abby replied, leaning into his touch. She slid her body, aching and bruised as it was, closer to his. "We don' play like 'at."

Spencer held her close, not worrying too much about getting clean, just worrying about her. "No, and my play days are growing less, I believe. There are more important things than kink," he murmured. "Your hair is faded, again."

"Purple does that. Hard to keep pretty," Abby said, leaning forward to give a lick to his chest. The fresh water over his pale skin looked as pure as a mountain stream.

"Never said it wasn't pretty," Spencer replied. He inhaled sharply. "Abby." He pulled her tightly. "Shagging every time you get banged up really will twist my head," he giggled. But he palmed her bum anyway.

"You go all soft when I'm beat to a pulp. It's nice," she replied, sucking hard on his nipple before giving it a gentle bite. Spencer's body shook and trembled, as he gasped and moaned. His cock rose from a thatch of dark hair, quickly making itself known as it nudged against Abby's wet thigh. He pulled her tight, tipping her head for a kiss.

"Towel," he rasped as he broke the kiss, running his nose over hers. "Towel and bandages and dear god more of that."

Her thin fingers wrapped around his hot length, mouth ducking down to bite the other nipple, water sliding over them. "More of this?"

Spencer groaned loudly, the sound bouncing off the bathroom walls. "Abby!" he whined, bucking into her hand as he pressed against cold, wet tile.

"I need you," Abby told him bluntly, hissing when she moved to get closer to him. "Towel. Bed. Please-"

Spencer lurched forward to shut off the water, shivering as he grabbed a big fluffy towel and swaddled Abby in it, picking her up - too easily. He carried her through the still open doorway, kissing her as he laid her down on the bed.

"Mmph, laptop," he mumbled.

"Laptop?" Abby asked, reaching for him.

He reached behind her unplugging it to drop it on the night table. "That," he said, covering her damp body as he kissed her, lapping at her throat. He moaned into the crook of it as he played with her small breast. Her nipples stood on end and he stroked lower. "Yeah, this, mmm, you.."

She nipped at him like a kitten, leaving small bites on his earlobes and down his chest again. Her hand rubbed his cock, thumb brushing over the tip in a teasing stroke. "You-You're so warm."

Spencer shivered, rocking into her hand as he touched her back, still uncertain with her bits, but growing bolder with each touch. "Because I've been home, in the warm, missing my lover," he mumbled, catching her lips as they crossed each other, moving back to continue their dance. Their bodies moved together instinctively.

She took his hand, guiding it where it needed to be, his fingers pushing inside her while she continued to tease him with touches of her own. Her tongue licked over his jaw, down his throat and back up again. "Missed you, too."

Spencer panted, pumping his fingers.

"Ah, ah, you're- ah- warm too. Here," he replied. "F-fuck. Rubber?"

"Y-Yeah," Abby gasped, her head thrown back. "Yeah, need you. Need you, righ' now."

Spencer barely had a knee off the bed, whimpering as Abby's hand tugged at his cock, keeping it held as though he might run away. He fumbled with the stupid drawer- stupid stupid drawer and package and he finally ripped it open with his teeth, sliding the cold, wet thing over him before burying himself in hot, wet, tight cunt.

He paused, buried deep in Abby, holding her to him as he kissed her, stroking her wet hair from her face.

"Love you," she whispered, their eyes locking together.

"Love you, too," Spencer breathed. "God, you've no idea." His body trembled as he moved slowly within her. "Abby, I-ah." He whimpered pitifully.

"It's okay. I know," Abby panted, rocking her hips up to meet his. "Come for me."

Spencer murmured and panted and kissed her fiercely before thrusting deep, grinding their bony hips together as he came, hips twitching as he stood over the edge of the bed. He practically slumped as he came down. "Helluva rain check."

Abby grinned, pushing his damp curls back from his face. She squeezed his softening cock with her muscles, teasing. She was in too much pain to come proper anyway, but it was nice to feel his body in hers. "Yeah, best rain check."

Spencer made a pitiful sound. He pulled out to deal with the mess. "Oh hell, your knee is still bleeding," he swore. "Hang on." He popped into the lav to grab the box off the sink. "Give up here."

"It's not so bad," Abby tried to placate him, holding up her leg.

"Bad enough I should treat your knee before shagging you into the bed." He swiped bactine across it, following up with antibiotic cream. He wrapped her knee carefully before going to look at her other bruises and cuts. "Did you even- you know?"

"Know I was going to get my arse kicked? No, that didn' occur to me," Abby replied looking confused.

"I meant did you come, you silly goose!" Spencer giggled, blushing. He dabbed some cream on another cut.

Abby tucked her tongue in her cheek, looking sheepish. "Well, no' really. Bu' I had fun, and that's wha' matters sometimes. Like, being connected to the person you care about."

Spencer bit his lip, wrapping another bandage on. "It'd be closer if I weren't," he stopped. "If I weren't- shagging someone else."

"Oi, you are turnin' me into a mummy," Abby complained, batting at his hands. She huffed, and then winced. "Don' pity party on me. No' righ' now, when I'm all bunged up and all I wanted was to 'ave time with you. You've go' nothin' to apologize for. At least not today."

"Well, if I weren't shagging someone else, I could turn you into a mummy," Spencer teased. "Or at least practice at it without the barrier. Careful. Need something for pain?"

"Nah. If I 'urt at least I know I'm healin'. Could do with a rest," Abby said, moving slowly under the blankets. "You wan' to lie down with me?"

"As if that's even a question," Spencer replied. He helped her get situated and tossed the towel away. Their nude bodies quickly warmed against each other. "Finch is having morning sickness, well, all day sickness again. Bran's been called out to be her personal chef. So I know he's been looked after and being a fussy mother hen himself."

"S'weird. Her havin' a baby. She seems too young," Abby replied, even though Finch was older than she was. "You alrigh' with 'im lookin' out for her?"

"It's complicated," Spencer replied. "Would I tell him I'm jealous? No. But I can't, and won't, be caught up the duff. Still, it'd be my niece or nephew, and it's not like Vance is a monster. The baby'll come out gorgeous and perfect. Even if it's not a Holmes."

"Vance is a monster. At least, that's what I've heard," Abby sighed, snuggling closer to Spencer. "He migh' be kind to your sister, but he ain't soft."

"None of us are soft, Abby," he replied stroking her. "Not Vance, not Finch, not Bran, not me. You know that right? Who I am with you- it's.. it's only a part of me. Like who I am with Brandon. He's repulsed if I'm so much affectionate without first hurting him."

"I know. I ain't soft either. I know who you are. Who you want to be," Abby sighed, patting his chest. She knew it was probably also going to be what broke them up in the end.

"Really? I don't know who I want to be," Spencer hummed. "Shh, don't tell me yet. I'd like to figure it out on my own. You can tell me if I get it right."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Abby replied, gracing him with a kiss. "Shh. I want to sleep a while."

"Hmm, I'll watch," Spencer sighed, sated and happy.

***

Hours earlier

"Did you get it?" the older man asked Abby gruffly. "She ain't going to let you sniff a bit of nappy if you ain't got it this time."

Abby glowered at him, but she held up the USB stick. "I go' it. Ain't nothin' to worry abou'."

"I'll be sure to check," he said, pushing his gun off to the side to snatch it from her fingers. He jerked his head to the doorway.

Young childish giggles echoed in the room.

Abby's breath caught in her chest, but she tried not to be emotional. After all, as Spencer had pointed out, emotions don't do nothin' but get in the way. "You'll find it's all there." Arse. 

"Ten minutes," the man said. "Clock's ticking."

Abby tried not to run, but failed miserably. She stood in the doorway, looking in at the little creature inside. "Liam."

"Aba!" the boy squealed, launching out of his red-headed nanny's arms. He made grabby hands as he stumbled over toddler feet to throw himself at Abby's legs. "I got da fire tuck, tuck, and zoom!" He bounced. She bent to pick him up, snuggling him close.

"Tha's very excitin' there, love," Abby cooed, smiling at him. "You gon' grow up to figh' fires, eh?"

Liam hugged her neck. "Yup! An' an' B'man. I'm b'man."

"I think he means Batman, Missus," the au pair said.

Abby laughed, a frightened sound, and gave him another hug. "Oi, Batman, you can' go 'round tellin' everyone who you are. You hafta remain a mystery."

"Aba, wass my-misery?" he asked, running a hand across his mouth, swiping a bit of green food from it to Abby's shirt.

"Ew, don' give me your leftovers," the purple-haired girl teased. "Mystery is secrets. Batman has to keep who he really is secret so his enemies don't find out."

"Like pengwings!" Liam exclaimed.

"Yes, darling, like the Penguin," came the rough voice of an older woman. "Enjoying our family time, Abigail?"

Abby bristled, but she just kept the baby on her hip, eyes growing cold. "He's alrigh'. Just sharin' stories."

Liam hiccuped, pressing closer. "Aba, aba, b'man."

"Yes, stories. Television won't raise him forever," the old matriarch said. "I've got another job for you, Abigail. A drop off. Shouldn't be too hard."

"I already did one job for you. Don' you think that's enough for t'day?" Abby asked, glaring at the woman.

"I think that's enough family time for today, don't you?" The old woman gestured to the au pair who went to take Liam.

The boy started to whimper as the red-head drew nearer. He began to cry, then scream in earnest as she picked him up from Abby's arms. "Aba! Aba!!!" he howled.

"Liam-" Abby reached for him, even though he was being stolen from her. "Ten minutes, you promised!"

"You promised you'd do the jobs!" the older woman laughed over the toddler's cries, dry and hacking - a smoker's laugh.

"Aaabaaa!"

"Fine, fine. Jus' five more, gimme a sec to calm 'im down an' I'll go," Abby promised, keeping her arms out for the child.

"Two, and you won't give me any lip for the next job. Your sister was never this much trouble, little brat. She did her job and done."

Liam launched back into Abby's arms, wailing into her neck. "Mama!"

"Shh, hush up, sweethear'. You've got to be a good boy for me. I'll come back to play, yeah?" Abby promised, cuddling him close. "I'll come back, I will."

"Aba be Robin?" Liam sniffled, big fat tears still rolling down his face.

"Nah, I'm Batgirl. Robin's a boy," she teased, tweaking his nose playfully. She kissed his forehead. "Love ya, Batman."

"Love Aba," Liam said, giving her a wet kiss and hug.

"Say bye, Liam," the au pair prompted. The little boy's eyes welled up again, pink lip trembling.

"I'll be back," Abby repeated, placing him in the stranger's arms, even though it near killed her to do so. She had to find a way to get him out of there. "Shh, shh, be good." Unable to look any longer, she turned and stalked out of the room, waiting for the old cunt to give her the next job.

"Get it to William by midnight," the woman said, handing over a thick packet. "And I'll consider telling you want I want for the boy. He's getting too old to handle. Child care is expensive."

"Tell me now. Mebbe I can do two jobs at once," Abby wheedled, taking the package from her.

"Something tells me a little bird is what the Moriarty's hinge on now. Oh don't think I don't know that you and Thaddeus, the wretched traitor," she spat on the ground. "Have holed up in their territory. But little birds are so easy to squish or simply.. shoot out of the air. Deal with the bird. It's a job worth the price of the brat's life, innit?"

Abby felt the blood drain from her face. "You want me to kill Finch Morstan? Are you mad? Her father is Sherlock Holmes."

"Retired," the woman drawled, lighting up a cigarette. "Along with her pitiful mother as well. Weakness. Cull the girl, and you get the boy. Simple as that. Or don't you want him?"

"'Course I do," Abby said, angling her tiny chin up. "I'd best get to those papers now, huh? Wouldn't want to be late."

"Remember you owe me!"

***

Thaddeus had left his things at the flat. He'd gone back to the shop instead, to the scrunched up sofa and strange pipe that knocked in the middle of the night. To the neon lights that shined from across the street and the smell of antiseptic and ink.

Finch hadn't come in or called, so he rescheduled her appointments. Only two, thankfully. He promised to take one of them out for lunch. Who knew, maybe it would go somewhere. He tapped about on the shop computer, thumbing through the shop emails. It seemed Finch's talent was well in demand. They needed a full time piercer, if not another artist.

"Thad," Abby's croaky voice came out of the shadows. How she'd gotten in was a mystery. Tears streamed from her eyes. "Thad-"

"Abby? What the hell?" he said, getting up. He saw her purpled eye. "Did that little rat-?"

"N-No-" Abby sucked in a breath, trying to wipe her face. "I'm in so much trouble. The old cunt got sommat on me, and I have to do a job for her or someone- someone I l-love is goin' to die, Thad. But- I can't, I can't do it."

"Of course you can," Thad snorted. "We can do anything. She's only running you because she can't do it on her own anymore. Who the hell is worth all this weeping? Lizzy's already been buried and gone months now."

"I have to kill Finch," Abby said, refusing to answer the other question. "That's the job."

Thad jerked back. His face went solemn. "You can't."

"She's- She's go' my son, Thad," Abby whispered, owning Liam like he was hers. He would be hers. He would- "She's goin' to kill him, and he's jus' a baby."

"You don't have no son, Abs," Thaddeus said. "You've got a bloody black eye and a concussion. But son?"

"Yeah. He's a baby an' she's go' him and she won' give 'im back unless I kill Finch," Abby choked, falling to her knees. "An' I can't do it. It's Spencer's sister-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Thaddeus said, leaning down to pull her back up. "What's he called?"

"L-Liam," Abby said with a shiver. "He's mine, and I want 'im back."

"Obvious," Thaddeus said, leading her to the sofa. "A baby? How old's the wee lad? Erm, Liam." His brain boggled, trying to think back through a haze of drugs, drinking, fighting, running. When had..?

"He's two and a half," Abby told him. She shoved her hands in the pocket of the ratty hoodie she was wearing. "An' gorgeous. But it don't matter, she's go' him and I've go' to figure out a way to kill your bloody girlfrien'."

"Blimey, he's nearly a proper kid," Thaddeus said in surprise. "You were near a baby yourself! We aren't killin' Finch no how. Obviously, you've seen him, right?"

"Yeah, jus' came from a visit. She let's me see 'im sometimes," Abby replied. "Not for long, though. He cries when I leave."

"Let's you see him for jobs, you mean," Thad said. "Damnit, damnit. No wonder you never could leave! Let me.. let me figure it out. We'll get the- your son back."

"Wha' are we going to do? There is nothin' we can do," Abby said, leaning her head against his chest. She wrapped her arms around Thad, fingers twisting in his shirt. "It's a lost cause-"

"Am I interrupting something?" Finch asked sweetly, her tone tense. The embrace looked... quite cozy and something in her twisted jealously. She didn't like it. "I'm going to go out for about ten minutes. When I come back, you're both to be gone."

Thaddeus sighed. "Give me some credit, Abs. I've got to deal with some of my own troubles, right now, but I swear, I won't let you down," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Please- go home. It's safe there."

"I'll go. Call me," Abby whispered, pulling her hood up. Finch watched her leave before turning back.

"You're to go, too. I don't need you," Finch said, storming into the back office.

"Yes, we rather gathered that," Thaddeus said. "Just like I said, he'd storm the flat, kick me out, and you'd go back to happy couple. Are you alright?"

"Peachy," Finch snapped. "It's none of your concern. I'll find somewhere to send your paycheck. Take your things and get out."

Thad's stomach dropped.

"You're joking," he said. Panic flooded his system.

"My shop is a business, not some place for you to bring girls," Finch replied, setting her jaw. "You- You need to go. Find something else to do. You both have bitched about Vance from sun up to sun down, but you love how safe you all are in Moriarty's family. No more. Not helping you."

"Bring girls?" Thad shouted. "Abby's my sister - as much my sister as your cousin Brandon is like your brother. She was upset. My God, you were jealous. You walked in and saw her, and you were jealous!"

Finch's eyes looked ready to bug out of her skull, and her cheeks were dusting a soft pink. "I'm not jealous! This is where I work. I've been telling you to get out for weeks."

"Fine, I'll- I'll find a place to bloody live, but you can't fire me," he said.

"Yes, I can. Because I'm the boss," Finch said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Thaddeus saw the glint around her finger. He straightened.

"Ah, I see," he said, eyes tightening. "Finally manned up, did he?" He should've just let himself be hit. It might've stopped that - stopped her from saying yes.

Finch blushed deeper, ducking her chin. "That has nothing to do with it."

"Yes it does," Thad said. "He proposed - in the hospital. Romantic. Like in a book. You admitted to kissing me. He forgave you, but told you to get rid of me."

"He did not!" Finch snapped, eyes flashing. "I can't have your sort of inappropriate conduct with Abby or the customers in my business. This means a lot to me, I've worked hard for it-"

"And I've done shite all?" Thad countered. "Like those lights and that chandelier, and those bloody walls. No I just did that for fun!" he growled. "And how about you not giving me or any of your bloody customers a heads up that I need to call and cancel on them because you're out - again!"

"I was ill, am I to apologize for that?" Finch hissed through clenched teeth. "I didn't ask you to do those things, you just did them. And you were compensated."

"And my own investment - emotional investment - in this shop means nothing?" Thad replied. "I can't fight for my job? Fuck's sake, you kissed me back. If I'd have known you'd gone round the bend over it, I'd kept to the other room and let you cry."

"Get. Out," Finch said, thoroughly embarrassed.

Thad was practically shaking with embarrassment, rejection, and.. fear?

"No."

That little wrinkle on her brow he was so fond of formed as if on cue. "What?"

"No. No, I won't get out. Call the police if you must, at least I'll have a place to sleep that's longer than that blasted sofa," he said. "But I shant, I won't and am not going to leave."

"That's- That's not right! You're not welcome. Get out!" Finch said, stamping her foot.

Thaddeus reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He pulled out Finch's hand, smacking the few pounds into it. "There, I'm a paying customer! I'm not going anywhere!"

She threw it back at him like it burned her, blinking. "Stop it! Why are you doing this to me? Why do you want to torture me?!"

"Because I love you!!" Thad shouted, eyes red, not even looking at the last of his money falling to the floor. "Because I'm in love with you and I have no idea what to do about it!"

"Me neither!" Finch shot back, sitting down in her office chair, burying her head on her desk. She felt so juvenile. "I don't want you back here, Thad. I can't do this. Don't ask me to do this."

"You're breakin' my heart, little bird," Thaddeus whispered. "At least give me one more week to find another job. That's all I've got right now, and I haven't been looking."

Finch's sniffled in her arms. "Don't call me that. If I give you a week, you'll take a year. It'll hurt less this way, Thad. I'll give you some money."

"I'd rather have a kiss goodbye," Thad said, placing a hand on the desk. "He'll forgive you that."

Finch's chest hurt when she looked up at him. "Won't that make it worse?"

Thad swallowed. He nodded a bit. "I would say I've been in worse places before, but I ain't been in love afore," he said. "But I'd still rather have it."

There was pain etched into her features. Not from her illness or her pregnancy, but from loss. Yet, she was her mother's daughter, and her mother was nothing if not stubborn. Finch angled her chin up, inviting him in.

Thad leaned down, cupping the back of Finch's head. He met her eyes, green and bright against the redness of her eyes. He swallowed again, bridging the distance to kiss her softly. A tear stole from his eye. His chest hurt.

"Bye, Thad," Finch whispered, having to wipe a few tears from her own eyes.

"I guess this is how I was supposed to feel when Lizzy died," he replied. "Goodbye, Finch. May you and Scarface have many fat happy babies." He pulled away, turning to pick up the cash from the floor. It felt dirty. He wanted to leave it.

"Yeah." She scrubbed her hand over her face, trying to look stern. "Best of luck."

Thad left the office, grabbing his jacket from the computer chair. He looked around the shop he'd helped build and gritted his teeth. Back to the streets. He left with a chime of the doorbell. He pulled out his mobile, texting the little Prince. At least he could still help the little family he had left.

Even if it had possibly lost him everything.

Awful

Finch lay in her loft, blankets pulled up to her chin to ward off the chill, staring at her phone. Willing it to light up with the promise of a text from her boyfriend. Something, anything to tell her he loved her. She blinked back tears. She was not crying, she wasn't!

Three days had turned into more than a week, and she was worrying. Especially with the little thing growing up bigger inside her. Did he miss her?

She missed him...

"Knock, knock," Thad said, opening the bedroom door. "You've been quiet, silly goose. Alright?"

"I'm alright," Finch said, trying not to sniff back her tears. She hated how snivelly she'd been lately. "Feeling tired. Need a nap."

"Sounds like a cry to me," Thad said, hoping on the bottom stair to the loft. "Oh, the boyfriend. Hasn't texted?"

She glared at him from her nest of quilts. "No. He's fine, though. He's just busy."

"Course, love," Thad said, taking another stair. "Being a criminal is hard work. Doesn't work on a schedule. The job's done when the job's done."

Finch had to stop herself from chucking the phone at him. She rolled away, curling in on her side. "I'm not stupid, I know what he does. It is what it is."

Thad climbed another stair, feeling like he was invading a forbidden zone.

"But you're twisted up sad now, poor thing," he said. "All those hormones and lover boy ain't come to chuck out your babysitter."

"My babysitter could chuck himself out," Finch sang hopefully, swatting at the dampness forming on the corners of her eyes. "He's fine. He loves me, and he's fine, and he'll be home soon."

"Aw, love," Thad said. He crawled the rest of the way into the loft to scoop Finch up. "You don't need him."

"I don't need anyone," Finch whined, not fighting him for once. "I want him. I want him so much."

"Shh, shh," Thad said, rocking her against his chest. "I know, love. He'll be home soon enough. It's alright."

"He's missing so much. I mean, nothing at all, but I- I want him. And he's not here," Finch sniffled, her head tucked under his chin. "I'm so sad all the time."

"And yet, you want to marry him," Thad tutted. "Heartbreak there. Imagine what he'll miss of your children."

"Stop it, stop it. Picking on him when he's not here to defend himself, during a moment of my weakness, makes me hate you," Finch tried to push herself away. "Get off me. Go away. Go find a new home."

Thad held her tight. "What would you have me say? Yes, of course, darling, he'll be home in no time. He's missing you as well, and his heart aches to come back home," he sighed. "He writes poetry in his mind to the love he holds in his heart for you and your unborn. Wake up, love, I'm not exactly going to cheer my biggest rival."

"It's not a competition. I don't like you," Finch snapped. "I can do this." Alone. 

Thad let her wrench away.

"Of course you can, but you don't have to," he said.

"It's what I should do. It's what you do for people you love," the girl replied. Her lip was a little chapped and starting to split, making her tear-stained puffy face all the more pathetic. "You make sacrifices. You- you put up with things for them."

"Like fiances and children and being back in a world I tried to escape?" Thad said softly as he wiped away a tear from Finch's face. "And tears that break my heart to see."

Finch nodded, blinking at him. "Yes. I guess just like those things."

Thad leaned in to kiss Finch's cheek.

"He'll text you as soon as he's safe. A man with the promises he has back home won't ever let himself die," he said.

"Do you-" Finch shook her head. "You don't think there could be someone else, do you? I mean, the baby- it was rather sudden. What if, what if he doesn't like me anymore."

"Maybe then you'd learn to like me?" Thad offered. "But I sincerely doubt he's - "

Finch's phone bleeped. Her fingers reached for the phone, sliding to unlock the screen.

[On the layover to Paris. Unexpected issue. Sorry, my bird. Home soon - VM]

She gulped, sniffing. She texted back. [Understand. Come home. - FM]

[Love you - VM]

"See?" Thad said, curling in on himself.

[Love you- FM]

"See what? It's not like he'll be home long," Finch said, putting her phone on the shelf above her head.

"Did you not just say it was what you did for those you love?" Thad said, urging her back towards him. "You shouldn't cry over crime lords."

"You talk in riddles I don't even understand," Finch said, closing her eyes against her tears. "Who should I cry over? You?"

"You should not need to cry, beautiful girl," Thaddeus murmured. "You should smile.. always." He leaned in to kiss her cheeks, wiping the edges of her eyes as he cupped her face, tilting it back to kiss her tenderly.

"If you didn't cry, you'd never know what smiling is," Finch muttered when the kiss broke. "No one can be happy all the time."

"I try," Thaddeus whispered. "I try to find the happiness in the world. In the smile of a beautiful girl, flush with life. In the joy of your customers, in the furrow of your brow." He touched her forehead. "In the challenge of your lover."

She graced him with a tight smile, but she didn't pull away from his touches. Something, some part of her, felt starved for it in a way she hadn't before. "You're cunning. You'll say anything if you think it gets you what you want."

"Yes," Thaddeus agreed, stroking over her slightly soft stomach. "And I know my time with you, alone, is growing short." He leaned in to kiss the side of her neck. "You'll forget me the moment your true love is home."

"That's true," Finch replied, blushing. She nudged her mouth closer to his, begging to be kissed. "You'll be just a distant memory, living on a sofa. Unless you manage your own place, but, frankly, on your salary it will never happen."

Thaddeus nudged their noses together, ghosting over Finch's lips. He brushed her silky soft lips with his own, tilting his head to press them together. He drew his teeth across her bottom lip, licking over it. "Or you could let me stay," he offered.

"But I won't," Finch said, eyes slipping closed. Letting herself be spoiled. Her hand drifted over his chest, feeling the firmness of it. Remembering the painted skin that lay beneath cotton threads. "It's just as well. You'll fall for someone else eventually."

"Possibly," Unlikely. "So let us ride the clock," Thaddeus purred, pressing her back. He kissed her again, more heated. "And soothe your lonely heart."

"It- It's not right," Finch said, shaking her head. "I can't- I shouldn't be doing this- It's not- not what people do." Except it was what people did. People like her mother, or bad people on telly programs about cheating spouses.

"People kiss," Thad offered, stroking her stomach as he moved from over her to beside her. He made his point by doing so. "You like me a little."

"Not very much." She touched his hair, letting the long dark strands slide over her fingers like silk. "Maybe not at all." Yet, she kissed him again.

Thaddeus let out a deep moan in his throat, holding the back of Finch's head - the tentative connection driving him mad with want. The anticipation was sweet, the realization sweeter. "Finch," he growled, holding back the torrent of lust that had whipped up in him. "Again. Kiss me."

Her lips touched his slowly, the movement almost afraid. She hadn't been kissed very much, and only by one person. Her inexperience scared her. "Th-Thad."

"Mm, yes," Thaddeus coaxed. "Your lips, so sweet, pretty bird." He stroked her hair, down her side to pull her closer to him. He didn't want to frighten her, or push her past the comfort. This was meant to comfort her, of course.

"I told you not to call me that," Finch mumbled into another kiss, her hands on his face, pulling him closer gently.

"Yes, love, yes, beautiful, yes, my treasure," Thaddeus said through their kisses. His face felt warm, and his heart pounding. Her gentleness was so different than any other girl he'd bedded. He toyed with the hem of her shirt, sliding his fingers up and under. She gasped, her mouth open so close to his, noses brushing.

Thaddeus leaned in to steal her lips, pulling her taut against him when-

"Finch?" a voice called out.

"Oh no," Finch said, her face crumpling. She turned an unhealthy color red.

"Finch," Thaddeus whispered. He touched her face. "Finch?"

"I'm awful," she whispered, bringing a hand to her chest. Her heart felt like lead.

"Are you-? What the hell are you doing in here?" Vance said, opening the door to the bedroom.

Thad gritted his teeth, closing his eyes in a pained way as he pulled himself out of the loft. "She's not looking well, lover-boy. Color's off," he said, voice huskier than it ought to have been.

Her sobbing was interrupted by her choked coughs, chest wracked with pain. She was not her mother, she was not her mother, she wasn't. Except that maybe she was. Vance rushed forward, shoving Thaddeus out of the way.

"Finch? Finch," he said, hauling himself up into the opening. "Come here, love, c'mere bird." he said. She was coiled tightly. He pulled at her. "Finch. You! Get out," Vance said over his shoulder.

"I- I'm-" her words broken up with gasps, eyes looking too large in her ruddy face. "Awful."

"Shh," Vance said. "No you aren't, bird. Not one bi'. C'mere, c'mere." Vance hushed. He touched her face, feeling the heat. "You're too warm."

"You-You were," gaspchokegagPAIN, "in P-Paris."

"Meant to surprise you," Vance murmured. "Because I'd been gone so long. Finch, breathe, bird."

She shook her head, tears sliding over her cheeks. "Can't. Hurts."

"Do y'-"

"I've called the number for the car," Thaddeus said, voice blank now. "And alerted her doctors."

"Right," Vance said. "I guess we should get you down, can you hold onto me?"

She cried on his shoulder, the pain becoming a tightness, like something heavy was sitting on her, forcing her bones into her heart and lungs, her arms loosely wrapped around him. Her hands that had so tenderly touched Thad's shirt were barely able to grasp Vance's.

Vance carried her down as Thaddeus couldn't look at them.

The car arrived and Vance carried Finch out, coming back for a few of her things - a packed bag, always on hand now.

"Are you coming?" Vance demanded.

"No, it's best not," Thaddeus said, shaking his head.

Vance slammed into his shoulder as he passed, muttering bastard under his breath.

***

Finch's color had finally regained something normal to it. Vance sat by her bedside, stroking her hand. He gave it the occasional kiss. He'd fussed at the nurses, complaining it was too cold in her room. Her hands felt like ice. The night passed with her lightly sedated.

"Finch?" he asked, when he saw her eyes moving beneath her lids.

"You're going to leave me," Finch whimpered, crying without opening her eyes. The pain had lessened, but the echo of the episode lingered.

"Don't be ridiculous, I've only just gotten back," Vance said, scooting closer. "I'm sorry it was longer than expected. Turkish prisons aren't what- well, you've enough to worry about."

Finch opened her eyes, the regret and worry etched into every bit of them. "I k-kissed him."

"Who?" Vance asked softly.

"Thad." Her face crumpled in on itself again, lips pulling down, nose wrinkling up. Pained.

Vance laughed. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he swore. "I already knew tha'. Your brother texted me." He rifled through his pocket for a moment. "The man's a cad."

"You're not angry?" Finch asked, swallowing.

"We've had this talk, bird," Vance said, shaking his head. He took her hand up again. This time, sliding something over her finger. "I'm not going anywhere, no how. I'm sorry I was late, but well, it took more time than I anticipated."

"Are you-" Finch's chest heaved with a little gasp, lips parting. "Are you proposing while I'm in hospital just after I've told you I was cheating on you?"

The monitor behind them bleeped.

"Calm down," Vance said, squeezing her hand. "You've got my little wee one in there. Of course I'm proposing. Unless, you- unless this was the breaking up talk. Was it?" He tilted his head, to look at her with his good eye.

"No!" Finch half-shouted, trying to push herself up. "No, no, don't- I don't want to-"

Vance stood, pressing her back against the bed. "Shh! Hospital. Meant to be quiet places, like libraries. At least look at the thing, would you?" he said, nodding to her hand.

Finch glanced down, pale where she'd once been red in the face.

"Well?" Vance asked, nervous. "I got some help from your Mum, admitted, and the maker was slow as Christmas, but I finally got it in hand, then hopped the next plane home. What d'you say, yeah?"

"Yes," Finch whispered, tongue peeking out to dab at the corner of her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered. "Yes, please."

Vance gave a delighted gasp, leaning in to kiss her. "Brilliant," he sighed, cupping her cheek. "Brilliant. I'll take your name, of course."

"Really? Why?" Finch asked, giddiness starting to bubble inside her.

"Because I already have, haven't I?" Vance laughed.

"I s'pose so," Finch replied, leaning back on the pillows. A married woman. She had no idea how to feel about that. "When can we go home? I want to go home."

"Soon, I imagine," Vance replied. "Since you've stopped trying to guilt yourself into a heart-attack. Alright now?"

"I hope so." She rubbed her hand over her belly, feeling the little bump that promised her more than a ring. "I'm hungry."

Vance's face split into a smile. "I'll call up your cousin for food," he said. "Another little bird told me he's the key to your stomach."

"We should really take Spencer's phone away from him," Finch grumbled, tugging the blankets up tighter. She took his hand in hers. "Missed you."

"I know, I missed you," Vance said, kissing her temple. He bit down on the questions of who was the better kisser and if was actually allowed to beat the shit out of the interloper, but for the moment, he basked in the warmth and love of his new fiancee. He pulled out his own phone to text Mary.

[she said yes! VM]

[Of course she did. She's not stupid. -MM]

Slingshot

Spencer came home from a new case. His sleek suit was only slightly rumpled. He stubbed out his cigarette in a coffee mug in the kitchen, toeing off his shoes. He wanted tea, very badly. He never drank in the clubs. Alcohol dulled the senses, ruined his edge.

The kettle was flicked on with a finger.

He loosened a second button on his shirt.

Never ties, Father said. Constricting and a potential weakness in a fight.

Abby's socked feet padded over the worn floors. She looked at him with wary eyes, leaning on the door frame. "Home late. You alright?"

Spencer's curls were falling out of their gelled prison.

"Hmm? Yeah," he said, reaching for a second cup. "Difficult case. Sister of an MP's wife is worried about her. Moving in certain circles takes a very, very delicate hand. You?"

"Oh, yeah. Quiet. The um, other one took off somewhere earlier this mornin' and he ain't been back since," Abby replied softly.

Spencer poured the tea, turning on a silk socked heel. He pursed his lips as he drew close.

"That was about Brandon," he murmured. "I asked about you. I know where my wretched pet is off at. What are you doing with your time, Abby?"

Abby blinked at him, leaning back. She tilted her chin up, soft purple hair falling down her back. "Cleaned up a bit. Made the bed. Sawr some friends earlier this afternoon, came back. Nothin' really goin' on."

"I think it's time you changed that," Spencer said softly. "I haven't minded your expenses, but I dislike idleness. Idleness breeds idiocy."

Abby set her teeth, clenching them tight. She shook her head. "I ain't asked you to pay nothin'. I 'ave more'n enough if you want payback."

"Did I ask for money?" Spencer replied. "Mmm, no. I want information. Friends. What friends? You don't have friends."

"Sure, I've got friends. You just ain't ever met them yet," Abby said, curling her shoulders down. She shook her head. "What sor' of information?"

"About your friends. Who are they? What do they do?" Spencer said, voice going quickly. "Who are their people? Did they follow you?"

Abby shook her head again and she turned away from him, padding back towards the bedroom. "I'm no' talkin' to you when you're like this."

Spencer growled, flinty eyes following her. He drank hot, black tea as he shucked his jacket, tugging his shirt out of his trousers. He left the jacket on the back of a chair, slid the silk across the old scored wood. He slipped the supple leather belt off, and dunked his head beneath the sink water to rinse out some of the gel.

He used a tea towel to dry, feeling the Nobody mask slip away. The towel hung around his neck as he headed for their shared room. His shoulders had lost their tension and his expression was softer.

"Sorry, it was a bad night," he sighed. "And Brandon's off schmoozing with my mother and Finch, so I'm a bit on edge. A bit wired."

"I don't understan' how you can just compartmentalize your head like that," Abby whispered. She was perched on the edge of the bed, having slipped into some soft blue jeans with holes at the knees. Her skinny legs peeked through the ragged fabric, her soft sleep shirt a pale shroud. "You worry me sometimes."

Spencer rolled his shoulder, and his tattoo peeked out from his trousers. "Trick my dad taught me. I can remember practically anything," he said. "And face anything without reacting emotionally. Emotions mess up the work."

"Yeah," Abby breathed, looking down at her hands. Her arm had scarred up, ink twisting in ways it was never meant to. "I guess that's true. About emotions."

Spencer moved slowly, reaching out to stroke her arm.

"A part of that," he tossed his head back to the kitchen. "That's me. I'm sorry if it worries you, or frightens you. But there's always got to be a kernel of truth in a lie to make it believable. Abby - I'm dangerous." He ran his thumb over the worst of the scar.

"Who ain't dangerous, these days," Abby sighed, eyes glancing back up at him. She blinked, swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth. "Thad thinks you hit me. Bran lets you sock him around. I- I don't know where the line is sometimes, an' that's a sin because I know you're a great man. Just-" Abby let out a loud huff of air. leaning forward to put her forehead on his stomach. "Tell me. What you need."

Spencer closed his eyes in pain as he raised his hand to cup Abby's soft head to him.

"Abby, love. Do you believe I want to strike you?"

"No. I think you know I'd cut your blinkin' hands off," Abby said.

"Which is a reaction to the idea that I would even consider it," Spencer shuddered. "The idea- it's repulsive. Harming you."

Abby let her hand stroke over his stomach, closing her eyes. "I believe you."

Goosebumps rose along Spencer's skin. "Brandon cannot accept my physical.. interest in him unless he's drunk and given the idea that he's not the one making the decision," he murmured softly. "I love him, Abby, and it- He freely cuddles, kisses, and touches my sister. It's childly foolish of me to be so jealous of them both, but, my love, there were so many times when they were away from me. When Finch took him away from me."

"You must have been lonely," Abby replied, looking up at him. She felt so small when he stood over her that way. It sent a shiver up her spine. "Do you hate her?"

"Truth?"

She gave him a solemn nod. "Always."

"I love her. It makes me sick," Spencer laughed dryly. "I dreamt once I was kissing her. Neither one of us had even been touched, but the dream-? It was strange and cruel, and haunts my thoughts sometimes, fearing that it was real. She dotes on Brandon, so I punish him for straying." He stroked Abby's cheek, moving to tip her chin back. "I was always very lonely, my dear. Dangers of being the youngest child. Gave me a complex." He tossed his damp hair like a young stallion.

Abby felt sick, and tired, but also morbidly fascinated. The whole family- cousins and brothers fantasizing about each other and their sisters. It was like a soap opera.

A train wreck. She just couldn't stop staring. "Did that affect us? Did I, I dunno. Remind you of her?"

Spencer moved, sliding to sit beside Abby. He curled an arm around her.

"Yes?" he said. "No." He smiled slyly. "You had something my sister did not have - passion." He turned to stroke her other cheek. "You had fire and potential. More importantly, you hated me, you picked me apart like a bug."

"Just as long as you're no' thinkin' of her when we're," Abby's lips twisted to the side and she gave a meaningful glance at his hip-area. "Doin' that. Then we're square."

Spencer tossed his head back and laughed. His face colored. "God no!" he said, wrinkling his nose. "I just want her to keep her hands off my..." He paused.

"Can't 'elp you with that," Abby sighed. She stood, bending down to kiss his forehead. "I've got somewhere I'm meant to be. Your pet comin' home soon?"

"Soon, enough," he said, hands going to circle Abby's wrists. "Where are you going? It's so late." He leaned up just a bit to kiss her. "I only just got home. Lonely, remember?"

"Yeah, but I told a friend I'd 'elp them move. I was gettin' dressed when you came in," Abby said. She bent to kiss him again, lingering, clearly not wanting to go. "Could stay, maybe. Until you fall asleep."

"Mmm, don't want to be asleep when Bran gets home," Spencer said, arching up, getting her lips again. "Abs, swear to me you're being safe."

"I'm bein' as safe as is possible," Abby dodged, feeling like half of a magnet, touching their lips together over and over. "Don' you worry abou' nothin'."

Spencer dragged his fingers through her hair, over and over. He crushed their mouths together, lips and tongues tangling. Nothing like his wretched teenage dreams. Very real, warm and precious. He pulled her into his lap. She let out a soft 'mph' sound, arms wrapped around his neck, their slender bodies slotting together as sweetly as their mouths.

"Spence," Abby breathed.

"Abby," Spencer purred. He had his fingers tangled at the base of her neck. "I don't want you to move."

"I know," she said, tipping her head back to expose her slender pale throat. "Don't want to move."

Spencer's lips were on her pulse point in seconds, tonguing the rapid beat of blood beneath her veins, suckling at beautiful pale skin as her stroked her everywhere. His hands slid up her shirt, feeling for her small breasts as he nibbled at her. He had never compared them intentionally, but he mentally ticked off another win for Abby as he palmed her small tits. He unlatched her bra in seconds.

"Oh, you're going to make me very late," Abby giggled, rubbing her crotch teasingly over his. He was so good, so... solid. Her mouth found it's way to his earlobe, nipping gently.

Spencer ground up, cupping her bum.

"Your fault for havin' friends," he teased, rolling her over quickly to push up her shirt, kissing and biting and sucking at inked skin. She was a work of art under his fingers.

The door downstairs slammed, footsteps thundering up one stair case, and after a brief pause the second as well. Spencer groaned against Abby's skin.

"Fuckin' cockblock," he muttered. He crawled up Abby's body to kiss her. "That pattern of stomps mean something happened. Mind if I..?"

"Nah, go on. I know you'll want to hear about you're family, too," Abby said with a goodnatured smile. She had matters of her own to attend to, anyway. She licked her lip. "Rain check?"

Spencer kissed her three times. "Plan on it," he panted. "Text me if you need me. I'll keep my mobile nearby,"

"Will do. Go on, go catch your stray," Abby said, reaching for her shirt.

Spencer stole two more kisses before heading for the stairs. Having two lovers was difficult. He steeled himself for an inebriated Brandon as he took the stairs. He didn't knock or call out Brandon's name. He simply let himself in.

Brandon was caught, mid-shirt lift, getting ready for bed. He looked over with sober yet reddened eyes, withdrawal taking it's toll. "Thought you was shaggin'."

Spencer licked his swollen lips.

"She's got plans," he shrugged. "Heard you come in. Wanted to make sure all was fine."

"Yeah," Brandon said with an all-too-careless shrug. He threw his shirt into the bin, continuing to shuck off his jeans. "Got beat about a bit by your sister's new boyfriend. That wasn't fun at all, but hey, we got your mum out of bed and that's all that matters."

Spencer's temper flared, uncertain where to start first.

"Where?" he demanded, crossing to pull Brandon back to him, looking him over.

"Just shoved me about," Brandon sighed, letting Spencer paw at him. "Hit me on the head a time or two. He's an arse. Abby's old mate, you know."

"That cad," Spencer swore. "I can have him killed. Bend down, let me check your head for bumps."

"Don't overreact," Brandon hissed, tipping his head down. "I've been in worse fights than that."

Spencer's fingers drew through Brandon's hair, undoing his ponytail. "I hope you hit him back, hard. I'm the only one meant to touch you. You said boyfriend. Vance is out of town. I'm assuming Finch is pulling on the side then? Didn't think she had it in her."

"Seems dear old blindside gave the wanker a bloody key," Brandon whinged, scrunching up his nose. "Said she needed protection. Meanwhile, the fuckin' arse is kissin' on her in front of your parents and suckin' up to my mother."

"Your mum'll shag anything that attractive," Spencer said calmly. "What about my mother?" he said, moving from Brandon's hair to his shoulders and collarbone. Much too sharp.

"She liked her present and she got out of bed, that's all I can do," Brandon replied with a heavy sigh. "She isn't looking well. You should visit her."

"Yes, yes, I will. It's hardly any matter. Finch all up the duff and all," he snorted. "Mostly gay son isn't giving Mummy any future brats after all."

Brandon's features turned sharp, like for once he was getting serious. He took Spencer's face between his hands, mouth turning down. "Shut up and go visit your mum. Finch is not her whole bleedin' world, and one day when you're through followin' perverts home from night clubs and she's six feet under, you'll want to remember her. Remember how one afternoon visit probably made her whole year, cause let me tell you, she'd get out of bed if you asked her."

Spencer jerked. He shook his head.

"Maybe if I were my father," he spat. "I said I'll see her."

Brandon looked disgusted. "You're an idiot. You're not this stupid when I'm plastered."

Spencer's face twisted. He grasped a handful of Brandon's hair, pulling him down to Spencer's face. He sniffed. Confused.

"Ah, not so clever after all," Brandon sneered, jerking his head away. "Go back to your girlfriend. I have an early shift."

"She's gone off," Spencer scowled. "I've not got anything on tomorrow. I'll see Mum then, if she's having visitors. Something happened today."

"Things happen every day," Brandon muttered, hands on his hips. His painfully thin hips, clad only in ratty boxers.

"Something with you," Spencer said. "How long's it been?"

"Since yesterday or the day before. Shut up, it's not important. I never party before seein' my mum," Brandon replied. He sat down on the bed, the ridges of his spine sticking up like a marble sculpture of a dinosaur. Pointy.

Spencer's skin felt tight, warm again. Uncomfortable with the feelings under his skin.

"I have something that could help. Least tonight," he coughed. "Cold turkey is rough no matter what you're going off. You've got a long shift tomorrow."

"It's not the first time," Brandon sighed, giving a shake of his head. He rolled his shoulders. Likely it wouldn't be the last time, either, but he didn't say that. This cycle was getting dull. "I can sleep most of it off. Ha! That arse said sober hours don't count if I'm sleeping during them. Wanker. I hope she kills him in his sleep."

Spencer was uncertain. They didn't usually - not when Brandon was this sober. He reached out to stroke those knobbly bones along the pale back.

"Unlikely, she's only killed on accident," he hummed. Goosebumps rose under his finger.

"Pity. No one would miss him." Bran arched, and then shook his loose hair. "Tired. I think the meds make me tired. Could do with some rest."

"I could do it," Spencer said. "But then you'd go off to babysit the pregnant sister. I swear those meds only make you worse."

"Yeah, feels like," Brandon said. He reached up and caught Spencer's hand. "Stay tonight?"

"You sure?" Spencer said, squeezing Brandon's hand.

Bran's eyes were so bloodshot, they made his usual color look all the more bright. He nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure."

Spencer stood up long enough to shimmy out of his trousers. "Right then," he breathed. "Bit chilly up here."

"It's why God made blankets," Brandon muttered sarcastically. His joints seemed to ache as he moved under the quilts, holding them open for Spencer to get in. Spencer slithered in, wrapping his limbs around the bony body of his lover.

"Remember when Mum would make us blanket forts?" Spencer whispered into Brandon's ear.

The blond boy snickered and nodded. "Yeah. Your mum was the best sometimes. When she wasn't busy bein' the worst."

"Brandon," Spencer whispered again.

"Spencer."

"Kiss me," Spencer demanded softly. Brandon licked his cheek. Spencer growled, pushing Brandon over. "Jerkface," he said before pressing his lips against Brandon's. Bran's response was warm, affectionate. Gentle. Their lips lingered together, sweet and afraid.

"Monster," Brandon chided softly.

"Yes," Spencer agreed. He leaned in, slowly bringing their mouths together in the darkness. Wet, warm, soft. His heart was racing. Heat was spreading between their bodies, making the younger boy dizzy. He leaned forward on his elbows, deepening the kiss.

Brandon felt both blissfully breathless and frightened he was drowning. His brows knit together, eyes closed, his face a picture of frustration. "Spence-"

"Yeah?" he asked, tucking his burning face in the crook of Brandon's neck. "Bit um, much?"

Brandon nodded. His throat ached inside from some sort of emotion he couldn't understand. "A little. Alright?"

Spencer kissed the side of Brandon's neck. "Yeah, alright," he said, moving off to the side. He curled around Brandon anyway, nuzzling under his jaw. "You smell good," he sighed.

Brandon snorted. "I smell like your mum."

"Hmmm," Spencer hummed again, snuggling closer. "Sleep, wanker."

"G'night, Spencer," Brandon replied, hugging Spencer to him like an over-sized teddy bear. Spencer smiled in the darkness. The lack of liquor smell, masculine, mixed with his mother's scent had Spencer dozing off quickly. It was warm and.. a bit bony, but he was happy right where he was.

***

Until he wasn't. It was drizzling rain by the time Spencer made it to the cottage. He cursed and swore as he ran from the car to the house. It certainly wasn't Brandon's warm bed. He sighed, reaching for the door - unlocked.

"Mum? Dad?" he called out.

"In here, Spencer," John replied from the kitchen. He was trying to enjoy a nice morning cuppa except someone was behind the island pelting him with things from a hot-pink sling shot. He hated to think what she'd do if she ever ran out of marshmallows.

Spencer hurried in. He took off his coat, shaking it out.

"Ruddy rain," he said. "I thought it only rained in London."

"My heart," Mary said, grinning at him. If she slouched down in her chair, just so, her head was only barely sticking up, which shielded her from any return fire from John. "You look lovely today."

"Mum!" Spencer said, hurrying around the island to hug her. "You look beautiful as always." He kissed her cheek. "Bet I can get two behind his ear," he whispered.

"Oh, I should like to see that," Mary grinned, handing over her weapon. "Make it good, I'm limited on ammunition."

"For Chrissakes, I can hear you," John replied.

Spencer put his tongue between his lips and fired, pfftpfft.

"Hah!" he crowed.

"You're children. You are all children," John huffed, and shifted so his paper blocked their sugary bullets.

"And somehow, we're having more fun than you, old man," Mary called with a giggle.

"Oh leave him," Spencer laughed. "I need a Mum's shoulder anyway."

Mary arched a brow, and popped back up over the counter to fire one more hard shot directly through the middle of John's paper, making a clear hole. He growled and went into the sitting room, away from the two of them. The older woman turned back to her son with a worried expression. "What's going on that you need a mummy, my love? I'm here for you."

"Where to start?" Spencer said, sitting on the floor to lay his head in his mother's lap. "Abby's got friends."

Mary threaded her fingers through his silky curls, smoothing them back over his head. "Those sorts of girls always come with friends. As I can personally attest, when you live a certain way, things always manage to drag you back in. No matter how hard you try to run away."

"Bran's meds are making him sicker more than well," Spencer whinged.

"He did look terrible when I saw him. I'll have a word with Freya. Perhaps she can talk him into asking the doctor if there was anything they can adjust," Mary replied softly. Soothingly. "I know he's not trying as hard as he should."

"He was sober last night," he murmured. "He's never.."

"Never what, angel?" Mary hummed, playing with his hair.

"Sober when I kiss him," he mumbled into Mary's leg. He looked up with sad eyes. "I'm not sure who I'm more scared of losing first, Mum."

"You poor thing," Mary said, and she leaned in to pull him into a hug. "Unfortunately, we both know I'm not an expert on trying to live. People die, Spencer. That's the horrible truth of things."

"It's not fair," Spencer said. "You haven't even seen your first grandbaby yet." The familiar smell was back. It was the scent of his mother.

"Hmm, yes, grandbabies make me feel wretchedly old. I remember when you were a baby. Ugh, you had the most adorable little frown," Mary sighed, squeezing him tight. "Precious little thing."

"Please- Finch is still a baby," Spencer snorted. "I also came to ask a favor."

Mary pulled back to look at him with an indulgent yet cautious smile playing on her lips. "What can I do for you, my darling?"

"Well, sometimes there's something needing doing and the law - well they can't take care of it, right?" Spencer said, shrugging. "I just need to.. take care of someone."

"Ah, and who are we taking care of?" Mary asked, her eyes tense.

"You know who, Mother," Spencer said. "Neither of them are going to take care of him. I don't know why, but there's a snake in our midst, too close to the source and Bran said he was kissing my sister."

Mary rolled her eyes. "That creature. Sebastian is behind this treachery. Unfortunately, my hands are tied. Especially since your sister let him kiss her. I had really hoped Vance would be the one. Now I'm worried I've trained him up for nothing."

"I could've handled it, Mother," Spencer groused. "I can handle this at least. She's spawned with your golden boy, so he's got to stay, own up to her, and make things right. That.. thing is not like Uncle Jack. The ties, Mum." He sneered.

"That's part of the problem, love. I can't make a move against the grandson without them knowing exactly who did it. I'm getting clumsy. It's why I had to cut back," Mary agreed. She touched his cheek. "You're such a clever boy. You'll be careful, won't you?"

"I'm always careful," Spencer puffed. He laid his head back on her leg. "They'd assume it was one of us. They'd make a move on the cottage or worse, on Finch or Abby. Glad Bran's gay, y'know?"

Mary snorted. "Yes, yes. Very glad Brandon turned out to favor gentlemen. Especially ones so charming as you. Now, about your little trip to the dungeon."

Spencer sat up straight. "Oi!" His face was beet-red. "That has nothin' to do with Bran!"

"You had no plans to take your collared boyfriend down to Mad Mary's?" Mary shook her head. "Try again, darling. I know you weren't considering taking that sweet little criminal girl down there-"

"He only wore it once, and no - For God's sakes, no," Spencer said. "I went alone. All right? And don't call Bran that. He's not." He waved his hand. The word just didn't sound right coming from his mother. "I went alone and watched. Made my face known a bit."

Mary grinned, looking devious. "Oh, I've heard all about your face, darling. Have a care, especially if you're going to use Abigail as your date. Whispers about the girl with the lilac hair went 'round the forums for weeks. Of course, you know already, you're a genius, you always know. But I'm your mother and I worry."

"She was a pretty date," Spencer said. "There always are exceptions, Mum. She helped me a lot that night. The girl called me. The sub. She was m'first case of that sort. Wait- you follow the forums?"

"I follow you, I think there is a difference," Mary said, and she slouched in her chair, looking up at the ceiling. "And it's dull here. Sherlock found all the cherubs."

Spencer covered his face. "Please tell me you haven't seen the photos!"

Mary snickered. "Sweetheart, you should really never put into print things you don't want others to read."

"Uuuggghh, Mum!" Spencer said. "I swear I'm dead. Dead of embarrassment. That's my work." He shot her a grin though. "We should meet for lunch. On Fridays. Noon."

"I would like that," Mary replied with a smile. She kissed his forehead. "I've missed you terribly."

Spencer's cheeks were still pink. "I missed you," he said. "Just cause you're in that throne don't mean you can't come visit me either. I suppose if you're going to stalk me, you might as well hear the dirt from the horse's mouth."

"Mixing metaphors, son?" Sherlock said from the doorway.

"Where have you been?" Mary asked, blinking at him like she'd never seen him before.

"Tending the wounded," Sherlock said. "He's in a right state this morning. Of all the people to pick on."

She rolled her eyes. "He's always such a whinger. Meanwhile I continue to hear him mutter the phrase institution under his breath. Might want to do something about that before I substitute rocks for sweets."

Spencer scowled as Sherlock came around. "He's just worried."

Spencer, however, was feeling hot under the collar at the thought. He slipped out of the kitchen to find his "dad".

"Da?" he called.

"Hello, dear," John said, settled in his chair with a book now instead of a newspaper. "Have a nice chat with your mum?"

"Lovely," Spencer said, serious face in place. "You'll stop that talk about having her locked up. It's making her worse."

John gaped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, eyes fluttering rapidly. "She said I said that? It's a rehabilitation facility, not a prison."

"You think that's any different for her?" Spencer asked. "For Christ's sake, Dad. You might as well lock Father in a sensory deprivation chamber and watch him go mad! I think she's been punished enough, don't you?"

John sat his book aside, and breathed out through his mouth, trying to steady himself. "She almost killed you. She presents a danger to herself and to others. I'm not sorry for trying to protect you both."

"I made a mistake, and it wasn't Mum's fault. Don't take unknown pills, lesson for the ages," Spencer said, his own stomach still off half the time. "She was scared, Dad. Scared and alone, except that psychopath in her head. She should've been able to trust you above all else to talk to. You're a doctor, Da. A doctor."

John's lips pulled together, practically disappearing. It was clear that this conversation made him uncomfortable. "I am a doctor. But I'm not the sort she needs."

"You should've been," Spencer said. "Don't say anythin' else to her about it. If I have to, I'll move her back to London myself. Psychological warfare is bad enough when it's going on in your own head. She doesn't need it from you neither. I love you, Da. I swear it, but she's in a bloody chair."

"Where does the son get off lecturing the father?" John said gruffly.

"When the father's made his son's mum scared," Spencer replied smartly. "You know who she is. And you, you scare her."

This stunned John. He shook his head, eyes wide. "She's not scared of anything. Least of all me."

"Fucking terrified," Spencer said, frown deep on his face. "Do you not see her, Da?"

John blinked. "Of course I see her."

"Look again," Spencer said, turning to head back to his mother and father. He loved his dad. For several years, Sherlock had been upset over Spencer's preference to John, but Spencer would do anything for his mother.

"Mum?"

Mary turned, and a genuine, soft smile blossomed on her lips, transforming the tired patient into a pretty lady. "Hmm, hello darling." She held out her hand. "You look all cross 'round the eyes. Are you going so soon?"

"Nah. Abby was home late, and Bran's got a long shift. I figured I'd stay through lunch. You can tell me how to figure out where I'm meant to sleep when they're both needin'," Spencer said, pulling some juice out of the fridge. "Like I said, it's a good thing Bran is gay, because there's not a chance he's gonna go falling for Abby. And she's too smart to do likewise."

"I will help you," Mary answered with a solemn nod. "But in return I must ask a favor of you."

"Hmm?" Spencer said, taking a sip of his juice.

"There is a second bag of marshmallows on the top shelf of the cupboard and someone," Mary glared at Sherlock, "put my slingshot on the refrigerator where I couldn't reach it."

"Naughty father," Spencer said, dumping his juice down Sherlock's trousers. "Oops."

"Mary!" Sherlock shouted.

She grinned, an eyebrow raised. "Oh what a shame. You shall have to take your trousers off."

Sherlock stalked off, but not before Spencer grabbed Mary's slingshot and the bag of marshmallows and pelted two in his father's direction. Sherlock yelped and evacuated the kitchen post-haste. Spencer collapsed into giggles at his mother's feet. She laughed, really laughed, and it felt nice.

"You're so much trouble. I adore it," she cooed.

"I know," Spencer grinned. "It's why I'm your favorite."

"Definitely is," Mary agreed, smiling at him fondly. 

Banana Muffins

Brandon pounded on the door to Finch's flat with several packages in hand. And the big thing propped against the stairs behind him, but he could manage. "Baby slut! Baby slut, open the door!"

Thad sleepily opened the door. His dark hair was mussed and his clothes wrinkled.

"Oi, keep it down," he muttered, one hand to the side of his head. "You know how often she gets a kip?"

Brandon hissed. "Ew, what are you doing here? She actually let you back in?"

"Watching after the little bird," Thad smirked, tilting his hips with smugness. "What the hell do you want?"

"Go wake her up, she's got a job to do," Brandon said, shouldering his way past the interloper. He settled the bags on the kitchen island before going back for the thing out front. Hefting the wheelchair over his shoulder, he carried it into the kitchen. "Besides, I want to see the look on your face when she finds you here."

"What sort of- oi!" Thad said, swiping at his eye. He scowled, but did as he was bid. He'd checked in on her earlier, but she'd been sleeping. He tiptoed up the short ladder to the loft. It smelled overwhelmingly like her and him.

"Baby bird," he cooed at her. "The White Demon comes to ruin your sleep."

"Wh-Va- What the hell?" Finch mumbled turning to squint at him. "What are you doing here? Ew, ew, go out, get out, how did you get in?"

"Key, love," Thad said, squirming into the loft a bit more. "Wake up. Your brat of a cousin is here for a job he claims. Make him go away."

"How did you get a key?" Finch asked, pulling the sheet up over her head. Then, after a moment's consideration, she lowered the blanket. "Wait, Bran's here?"

"Yes, the White Demon of the Dark Prince's kingdom," Thad cackled, then let his face fall solemn. "Deal with the alcoholic stain or I will."

"You will not. You're not invited, go away," Finch snapped, pushing out of the loft, tugging the sheet tight around her. "Bran is allowed in whenever he likes. He's my friend." She stalked down the hall, trying not to trip over her blanket. She grimaced, a gentle queasiness rolling in her stomach. Bran bent to kiss her cheek chastely when she got to the kitchen. "And you? What are you doing here?"

"Hmm, project for you," Brandon replied, unpacking the foods he'd brought with him. "I guess project for me, too." He took the lid off a container of homemade banana muffins, kettle already boiling away for tea.

"But you're meant to be at the- are those banana?" Finch asked, eyes going wide. Brandon grinned back at her.

"Yeah, I thought you might remember," he teased, ruffling her messy hair.

Thad licked his lips at the yummy smell. He nicked one out of the container. "Remember wha'?" he said around a mouthful.

Finch had a muffin in her hand, too, perched on one of the kitchen stools. "When I was little, I go' sick at Bran's house. An' his mum wasn't there, and my mum was never there, and his dad was never there. An' the only thing to eat was boxed bran- ha, Bran- muffins. So he tried to make 'em taste better and he put in bananas."

Brandon smiled, pouring hot water into mugs. "Settled her stomach. After that, if she was ever sick, I'd make her muffins. Figured if she hasn't been keeping anything down, at least I could give those a shot."

"Mmm," Finch hummed.

Thad scowled. The delicious muffin going to ash in his mouth. "Well, at least it's moderately healthy and not ice cream and pickles," he muttered.

"Can I have another?" Finch asked, sipping her tea with wide eyes. Brandon gave her a large, over-friendly smile.

"'Course, I brought them for you," he replied. He handed her another muffin without question. He knew from her mother and her brother that morning sickness had hit her hard, and it should really have been called 'day sickness'. "So, about this wheelchair."

"Yeah, I was wondering what that was for," Finch said around a mouthful of crumbs.

Brandon flung his hair back out of his eyes, posturing a little. Like a pleased peacock. "Well, I heard from my mum that your mum is being very sulky and not speaking to anyone and refusing to get out of bed. My mum thinks it's because her leg is finally gone useless, so I thought, perhaps, if I asked very nicely, you would please tattoo some roses all over this chair and we could drive it up and ask your mum to stop being such a bitch to the other parents."

Thaddeus angrily picked at his muffin. He hated that it was delicious.

"Paint wouldn't be good for her right now," he grumbled. "But I guess if you're gonna be busy, I can move the rest of my stuff back across the way."

"Paint wouldn't be good for me but tattooing strangers is," Finch muttered. She put her mug down. "You are not moving back in here!"

"Would you like me to move in?" Brandon purred, leaning close to her.

Thaddeus growled, prowling between the two of them. He bared his teeth. "Piss off. Ink fumes ain't the same as paint," he said, eyes locked with Brandon's. He had done so well with the pacifism, but he wanted to sock the 'cousin' in the face a few good dozen times. "She's got a wee thing in her, in case you weren't aware."

"I'm so very aware," Brandon said, whining up at Finch. She giggled and pet his hair.

"Certain paints don't have much fumes. I'll wear a mask. Anything to get mum out of bed," Finch said with a smile.

"Yeah, I've heard she's been a right bitch. You feelin' okay? I don't want to put you both at risk," Brandon said, leaning into her pettings.

"I'm fine. Let's do it." Finch hopped down off the stool, snagging a third muffin for herself. "I'll go grab my things. Put it in the living room for me?"

"Will do, dearest," Brandon sang, watching her saunter down the hallway.

Thad finally burst and knocked the tall idiot into a cabinet. "Don't touch her," he hissed.

"Piss off, mate, she's family," Brandon snarled in a harsh whisper. "And, by the by, she touched me. Not the other way around." He shoved back at Thaddeus. Thaddeus swung him around, pulling his arm sharply up his back.

"No, your family's somewhere else," Thaddeus replied. "You hauled her right back into your little prince's arms. This one's mine." He shoved Brandon towards the den, sneering.

"Bran?" Finch asked, looking concerned at Thad's rough treatment. She hadn't gotten dressed, just dragged a large tote of paints out into the living room. "Everything alright?"

Brandon smiled for her, and despite Thad's warning he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Yeah, yeah, just some stupid meathead pushin' me about. You're my best friend, Finch, you going to let him treat me like that?"

"He started it," Thad said, gesturing pitifully. "Drunk jerk."

Finch gripped Brandon's strong chin in her little artist's hand, turning his head from side to side. "No, you've been clean. At least... sixteen hours?"

"Seventeen," Brandon said, and this time his grin was wobbly. "But you know me, I don't party if I have to see my mum."

Finch nodded, approvingly. "You didn't drink at work?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die. I'd never disappoint you," he teased, all too real a truth. Brandon flopped down onto the sofa, sprawling. "C'mon, then, artist girl. Pimp that wheelchair so I can take you up to see your mum. I even bought off-road wheels in case she tries to use the excuse that in a chair she can't go outside."

"I'm opening a window, at least," Thad said, heading to do that. "And put on a mask!" He went on to mutter. "Moriarty reduced to a rose-covered wheel chair. She'll think she's in hell."

Finch looked at Brandon with unspoken questions in her eyes. He shook his head.

"Don't listen to an outsider, baby slut. He don't know us like I know us," Brandon said with a smirk. Finch nodded seriously. This was one of the most important things she'd have to do, and she was going to do it right. She went into the kitchen for a cup of clean water and some paper towels.

"Her mother changed the world," Thaddeus said, looking out the window. "War is breaking out."

"Yeah, had a feeling," Brandon shrugged with a faux carefree air about him. "She can't be Moriarty forever. Not with only one working leg, and that one goin' downhill, too."

"A damn shame," Thad said. "No offense to Scarface. But he's not your mother. He's missing the bigger picture. And your little prince is getting himself into trouble as I hear it. Dungeons now?"

Brandon flushed, but he continued to pretend he was un-phased. "I wouldn't know. I don't ask Spencer about his work."

"Probably for the best," Finch agreed, coming back into the room to set up. Happily unaware of Thad's remarks about Mary. "He's gettin' weird. You safe over there? You can always come here, if you need."

"Yeah, and where you going to put me with two boyfriends and a baby on the way," Brandon asked her, chuckling. "No room at the inn."

"There's always the barn," Thaddeus snorted. "But it's best he take his donkey and ride on back home."

"Or you could leave. Hey, he is not my boyfriend!" Finch said, finally catching on to what Brandon had implied. "Nope, not at all. Stop being weird, both of you. I have to work."

Thaddeus rolled his eyes. "Alright, doveling," he said, moving to grasp Bran's arm. "You can come help me move my shite."

"Ugh, bitch, I just got here," Brandon sighed, but he pushed himself up. "We'll be back."

"Go, go, I'm fine!" Finch said, already focused on designing the chair. Thad let his eye linger on her as they headed for the door. He had a happy smile on his face, until he pushed Thad outside.

"Where's your car?" he asked.

"'Round the block," Brandon said, pulling the keys from his pocket.

"The boyfriend asked me to stay," Thad said. "Watch her, and watch out for her. She's still a bloody target. Even if she doesn't know it."

"Wait, the boyfriend asked you?" Brandon hissed out a breath, inwardly cringing. "Damn, he could've asked me. I'm nearly as good a shot as she is."

Thad pulled the gun from the small of his back. "Want to try me?" he asked. "You brats were trained to take care of yourselves. I was taught to take over."

Brandon shrugged, entirely unimpressed. "Are we going to get your things? You're wasting time, if you're meant to stick with her."

Thad thumbed the safety back on, the gun disappearing on his thin form. They headed for the car. "How's Abs?"

"Just peachy," Brandon sneered, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide the shaking. He couldn't have hit the broad side of a building with his body wrecked as it was. "Maybe needs a new job. She just kind of hangs around."

"Fuck off," Thad said. "Give me your keys. You're worse off now than if you were driving drunk."

"Hey, I got here, didn't I?" Brandon asked, but he passed Thad his keys. "You'll drive to the cabin. That's an hour off."

"I know where it is," Thad said, opening the door. "Shop first. She'll probably be done by the time we get back. Also sober hours don't count if you're sleeping during them."

"Who said anythin' about sleepin'?" Brandon replied lazily, grinning.

Thad reached across the seat to thump Brandon on the ear as they headed down the street. "I don't want to know what shite you get up to at that old house," he snorted. "Your boyfriend's a freak."

"You don't call him that," Brandon snarled, his eyes flashing. He hit Thad back on the head, equally as hard. "You don't call him anything other than Spencer if you like your testicles attached. Get this, arsehole, if you want in, you don't just get to choose one side. We're all a family, and we all stick together, and fuck anyone that tries to break us up."

Thad's head hurt, but he was grinning.

"There it is," he laughed, voice full of mirth. "The Ice King feels."

"Oh fuck off," Brandon sulked, slouching down in his seat, staring out the window. He reached for some sunglasses on the dash, slipping them on. "God, can't you even drive? Ugh."

Thad shifted the car in gear and took off, flying down the London streets. It was a nice car.

***

Thad carried his duffle and a few other bags and things. It really wasn't much. His life was down to a mere four bags full.

"Bout done, princess?" he called out, carrying his stuff towards the master.

"I'm not a princess!" Finch replied, using a blow dryer to dry the spray sealant she'd put over the paint. It was made to last, that was for sure. Her hair was damp. She'd taken a shower, which was awful since Vance wasn't there and now she didn't smell like him anymore. She'd used some of his soap just to make her feel better, dressing in jeans and a tee shirt from the shop. The waistband of her jeans was cutting into her tummy a little, but at least she had on clean clothes. "I think it's finished. Be careful when you two put it in the car, I don't want it chipping before she even gets to see it."

"Yes, m'lady," Thad chuckled. His breath caught just a bit. He hadn't noticed the slow changes of her body in her usual clothes. The jackets, cardigans, all sort of hid her. Goosebumps ran down his arms. "A work of art," he said, voice gone husky. "As usual, Finch."

"You alright? You've gone all funny 'round the eyes," Finch asked, her mouth turning down in a frown. Brandon giggled.

"He's stunned by the beautiful fair maiden he sees before him," Bran snarked, carefully folding up the chair. "Go on, get your sweater and we'll go on our merry way."

Thad scowled. "Be any more subtle? For fuck's sake," he growled. "Least your boyfriend wants you."

"I don't even want to know," Finch sighed, shaking her head. She gathered up her purse and her jacket and her keys, wondering if she'd forgotten anything. "I'm all set. Is Bran driving?"

"That beauty? Hell no," Thaddeus purred. "A good hour drive outside the city? I'm taking it for a spin. Carefully, of course. I'm just thrilled you've finally kept something down." He sent a grateful look to Brandon. "You did, right?"

"Oh, yeah, strangely I don't feel as sick anymore," Finch said, and then she blushed. Brandon read her features with a smile.

"I'll pack them into the car for you, baby," he promised. Her cheeks turned redder.

"I'll just get a bottle of water from the fridge," she said, heading for the kitchen.

"Don't," Thad said, eyes going dark again. "Don't infect her with your bullshit. Friends, family, fine. Get the chair in the car." He padded after Finch.

Brandon sneered, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. He wouldn't. He'd never 'infect' Finch. But it didn't stop the tugging feeling that he would've liked the chance- before all the- Bran shook his head, hair flopping over his eye. Didn't matter now. What mattered was that her mother was giving up, and Bran just wouldn't let that happen.

***

Mary curled up in bed. Well, curled was probably the wrong word. Part of her was curled. Another part, a betraying leg, was limp and long, where it had been the last few days. Her face was buried in her pillow. She wanted to suffocate, to end the pain, but even Jim had been silent since she'd stopped being 'Moriarty' and now she really felt all alone. Unable to move. Trapped. Depressed. Sullen. And not wanting to talk to the others, lest she pass along the sadness like a disease.

Freya pushed open the door just enough to slip in. Her bare feet stuck out beneath her tunic and leggings. She crawled up Mary and Sebastian's bed, curling around Mary's back to kiss the nape of her neck. She smelled the most like natural Mary there.

"Hello, darlin'," she murmured.

"Free," Mary croaked into the pillow, her words muffled.

"Your babies are here," Freya said softly, stroking Mary's hair.

"Too tired. Make them go away," Mary sighed, shivering as Freya petted her like a cat.

"They brought a present," Freya whispered. "And Finch is looking all round, lovey."

"They aren't babies anymore," Mary complained. She closed her eyes. "I'm tired."

Freya kissed her again, sighing. She hugged Mary for a bit, then got up.

She headed back into the living room. "She's not feeling up to it, loves," she said.

"The hell she's not," Brandon muttered, scampering past his mother into the bedroom. "Hello, Mare-mare. Good, you're already somewhat clothed."

Mary looked up, brow wrinkling. "But I've already said-"

"I know, I know, go away. Luckily for you, I don't care," Brandon said, bending to pick her up. He hefted her into his arms. "Naughty mum, not eating. You're light as a feather. Bad girl."

"Brandon, I don't-" Mary tried to protest as he hauled her out into the sitting room.

"Bran, be careful with her, love," Freya said, hands outstretched.

"Don't coddle her," Thad huffed. "She'll get bedsores at this rate."

"She's not breakable," Brandon sniffed, settling Mary into her new chair while Finch stood by watching, wringing her hands. "You're a solid old bird. Now look, we've made you this lovely-"

"Get me out, get me out, I don't want to be-" Mary started to protest but Brandon cut her off with a look, kneeling down in front of her.

"I know, I know, it'd be lovely if handsome young men like me could just carry you everywhere, but unfortunately, you can't afford my salary," he teased gently, straightening her shirt. "And between you and me, these old boys just don't have it in them anymore. So, you have to be a good boss and just suck it up and be independent. Look, it's pretty, see? And you don't have to rely on them anymore."

"Pretty sure she made your salary with that Holmes bloke," Thaddeus snorted.

"Awful children," Freya sniffed. "It's badass, Mare. Much better than that awful thing before."

"I made it for you, Mum," Finch whispered, giving her mother big, sad eyes. "Don't you like it?"

Mary looked like she was about to have a panic attack, but Brandon reached out to take her hand. He squeezed it. "C'mon, cut her a break and tell her you like it."

"She worked hard on it all afternoon," Thad added. "Baby bump an' all."

Freya went over to hug Finch, touching her tummy gently. "Bless," she said, cuddling her 'step-daughter'.

Finch blushed, her awkwardness growing. "Help! They're touching me."

Brandon snorted, his eyes never leaving Mary. "You're alright. You're going to be just sunny, aren't you?"

After a moment of hyperventilating through her nose, she managed to give him a lofty stare, looking down her nose at him. "I'm not a frightened animal. No need to patronize me, Brandon."

His grin widened, the battle won. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyone up for lunch? I brought things to cook. That's not a baby bump, she's had half a dozen muffins today."

Freya giggled, leaning over to peck Finch on the cheek. "You look lovely, baby girl. Doesn't she, Mary?"

"Hush, hush, old bird, I need to pick the matriarch's brain while I've got her," Thad said, walking over to Mary. "Too many people, and for fuck's sake, how often can I get an audience?"

"Hmm, sounds like business. I'm retired," Mary said, giving her head a shake, like a voice was whispering to her that she hadn't heard for ages. Still, she swallowed, and nodded at Bran. "Take your mother and Finchlette into the kitchen for lunch. I'm sure you'll find some of the others to feed, too, won't you? I'm worried about John."

"Ah, worrying too much about his detective and not enough about him? I'll find him," Bran promised, pulling Finch free of his mother's grip, knowing the older lady would follow them. "When I come back I'll tell you all about how Spencer managed to bribe his way into Mad Mary's."

"Yes, your son," Thad said. "Dangerous waters he's treading. But no, not business.. a bit more personal than that."

Mary drummed her fingers on the arm of the chair. She had to admit, it did feel a little like a throne. "Personal? What could you possibly have to ask me that's personal?"

Thaddeus knelt down, placing his head lower than Mary's. "Your daughter," he said, clearing his throat. He checked to make sure the room had cleared. "I.. care, for her. I wager you don't champion a rival to your handpicked protege."

"I do not," Mary agreed, keeping her features passive. "Especially not one who comes from an enemy family. Heir to an enemy family, whose very existence jeopardizes everything I've worked so hard for."

"Even one who has stepped down, and is willing to pledge to another family?" Thaddeus asked, picking at his fingers. "For love?"

Mary angled her chin up. "It's not my choice. If she were to pick you, it would be up to her. I don't see why you're even having this conversation with me."

Thaddeus laughed. "She'll never pick me, m'um. That doesn't mean I can't still choose a different path," he said. "Who is going to pick some interloper, some outsider when she's carrying the chosen one's babe? My family raised me to curse your name. I found myself rather admiring your work. And now? I admire your family very much."

Mary unfortunately did love a stray or two. She shrugged. "What are you asking of me?"

"Understanding, maybe?" he asked. His dark eyes looked up at the woman. "I swear I'll protect her with everything I am. Even if she curses me with her last breath."

"I've heard that before. From someone equally as serious," Mary replied, trying to look unimpressed. "I understand better than anyone what it takes to look after her. You'll fail. But I believe you'll try very hard."

"I will at that," Thaddeus said. "Your daughter is much loved. Much, much loved. I imagine she inherited it from someone much loved as well." He picked up one of Mary's hands, placing a soft kiss on the still strong hand.

"Hmm, yes, I s'pose we're all very fond of Sebastian," Mary said stubbornly. Her brows knit together. "I wonder where they all got to."

"Food. I believe Brandon is attempting to seduce her with it again," he said, standing.

"He'll never give up," Mary sighed, having meant her other lovers. "He's had the worst crush on her ever since he was a baby. Even if he'll never admit it." She wheeled herself into the kitchen, letting Thad follow.

"Love doesn't mean sex," Thaddeus murmured to her. It will continue to break away at them. He went over to mooch food off Finch. "You never feed me up," he whined.

"You're a parasite," Finch sighed, tugging her plate away. "Besides, I need the food. I haven't eaten properly for weeks, and now I'm starved."

"I remember those days," Mary said, nodding. "It's only going to get worse. Just wait until you want sex as much as you want food."

"Who says I don't now?" Finch wondered.

"Because I'm woefully under shagged," Thaddeus cackled, nicking food off Freya's, who smacked him.

"Oi, brat. I'll rip your fingers off and feed 'em to you, swear on m'kid," she spat out.

"Please do, Mummy, he hit me," Brandon whined, winking at her. Mary giggled.

"You probably liked it," she murmured. Brandon cackled.

"Nah, only when Spencer does it," he teased. Finch made pretend gagging noises.

"You behave too, or I'll spank your arse too. You won't like it," Freya said, getting up from the table. "Come here, poppet. Hug your Mummy."

Brandon reached out his arms for his mother, resting his chin on her tiny head. "Hello, Mummerz. See? Told you I'd fix it."

"I know, darling. You're the best thing I've ever done," she said into his chest. "Are you feeling alright? You're looking a bit peaky."

"I'm doing fine. Taking my meds, goin' to stupid therapy," Brandon replied dutifully, cutting Mary off with a glance. So he'd missed one meeting, Mum didn't need to know that, even if Mary did. "Makin' trouble."

"My baby," she said, hugging him tighter. "Don't let Spencer mess about either. If the girl stands in your way, don't you dare think yourself less. I know those sort of thoughts," she said softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. She'd had those self deprecating thoughts about Mary for ages. She had imagined herself only a friend.

"Ew, Mum, don't get all squishy. Go, go pet Finch," Brandon sniffed, pretending to be too cool for her. He scrunched his nose. "She's going to get all fat if she keeps eating-"

Finch pelted him with a roll.

"Oi, starving kids in Africa. Don't waste food," Freya barked, heading over to Mary. She perched in a chair next to her, leaning over the arm of the wheelchair to wrap her arms around her lover instead of Finch. She leaned in to kiss Mary on the lips, a rare show of PDA for them. "You look lovely, darlin'," she said with a watery smile. "I don't know why we never made your chair a beautiful thing."

"Well, to be fair, I didn't think I'd be in it that long," Mary replied, patting her friend's arm. The first time around, she'd felt like she was dying. The second time around wasn't feeling much different. "This one is definitely better, though."

"Mary? I thought I heard-?" Seb said. "Oh! Finch, Brandon."

"And your interloper," Mary said. Her expression turned bashful when she looked at him. Almost shy. Like she was waiting for his opinion. "The children decided to bring me a gift."

"Oh," Seb said, gruff voice going soft. He moved to lean down, shooing Freya away from his wife. "Lovely," he said, kissing her softly. "Does this mean I'll see you outside of bed now?"

"Maybe sometimes," Mary said, rubbing her nose against his. She blushed prettily, ducking her chin. "It's not as wretched as the last one."

"I'm sorry, I made a terrible chair," Seb teased. "I'm not as young as I used to be! You'll just have to rope one of those strapping young things to carry you about."

"You know what I meant," Mary scolded, patting his cheek. "Look, Finch is here. And she's not throwing up for once."

"Hello, Papa," Finch said, pretending she hadn't been eating a sandwich.

"Hello, love," Seb said, moving about to give his daughter a hug too. "You look better. Everything alright?" He gave a sidelong glance at Thad.

"I'm going to murder my boyfriend for giving him his key back," Finch said, but she shrugged. "Otherwise, nothing new."

"I could've nicked it!" Thaddeus whined.

"But you didn't. Vance is being smart, Finch. At least it wasn't a nurse," Seb said, petting her head.

"Not having this discussion with you all today in front of an audience, but I will add that I would, for once, just like to be trusted to look after something on my own. I don't need a babysitter," Finch said, her eyebrows going up. She tugged her shirt down a little more. "I'm perfectly capable."

"I'm not a babysitter. I'm homeless," Thad said, perched over a plate of food. "Besides, free rent, and you pay me anyway. You'd be wretched without my excellent reception skills."

"No, I'd just hire someone with actual receptionist experience," Finch sniped under her breath. "Not someone who just can't seem to take no for an answer."

"It's almost sweet when you think of how I used to talk to Jack in exactly the same way," Mary said to Seb, a meanish glint in her eye. Finch sputtered.

"Mum, you didn't," Finch said.

"Oh she did," Sebastian chuckled, a wicked grin on his face. "He finally started turning a worth while profit once he stopped the back room card games and opened the bar. Well, the card games didn't end, but we had a legal front for the money. It was a good thing we had a king sized bed."

"Remember that time we took Freya to Paris? Jack picked the lock on the flat and when I came home I found him asleep in our bedroom. We never could get rid of him after that," Mary mused. Finch paled. She stood up sort of abruptly.

"I'm um, I'm going to go throw up about something else," she said, heading for the bathroom.

Thaddeus kept his seat for a mere moment before following her. He flashed a grin at Mary, before heading after the redheaded girl. "Finch," he said.

"I'm not talking to you!" Finch replied, not actually sick for once in her life but desperate to avoid that conversation with her parents. Whatever that was. "You push, and push, and push, and it never matters what I say and somehow you've charmed her into your way of thinking-"

"I'm fairly certain she had Jack long before I was thought of," he said, reaching for her hand. "I've been running for some time now. I don't know your parents' situation, but I do know I've found a place I'd like to stay. Some days you like me.. a little."

Finch didn't like how comforting and warm his fingers felt. She fidgeted. "You're mean to Brandon. You call Vance 'Scarface' even when I ask you not to. You don't like Spencer, either. You're cocky. I don't like people who aren't a little bit humble. And I mean to marry Vance, and I'm having his child, and somehow you don't seem to understand that I'm serious about him. Devoted and his." Her lip wobbled, and her eyes got suddenly glassy, like she was going to cry. She sniffed, holding back tears. "I love him. And that never matters to anyone."

"Your cousin started it. Your brother is dating a girl who is like my sister, and Vance," Thad rolled his eyes. "I understand." He lifted her hand to kiss it. "You love him. You're carrying his child, and yes, I assume going to marry the scarred bastard." He reached for her slightly widened hip. "And I'd like to bloody be there. Keeping a weathered eye out for my kith and kin. You're in danger, always. Your mother said I will fail you, and that may be. But I'll never know if I do not try."

Finch's eyelashes fluttered, and her heart gave a strange stuttering beat. "I don't understand you."

"You don't understand that Brandon loves you beyond a mere cousin either," Thaddeus said. "But like your mother, you are loved by many." He leaned in. "Finch."

Finch's eyes were beyond wide, green moons in her pale face. A tear slid over her cheek. "Bran does not-"

"He does, little bird," Thad whispered. "Quiet desperation." He swiped at her tear, cupping her cheek. He tilted her head and slotted their lips together.

He smelled weird. Not like Vance. And their lips didn't fit together as well, she wasn't used to it. And she'd never, never really kissed anyone. Well, not anyone that made her heart race (aside from, well, Vance). But it wasn't bad. It wasn't a bad kiss at all. She swallowed. "But I'm not like my mum."

Except she was starting to wonder if maybe she was a lot like her mum.

"I'm not like her Jack," Thad replied, leaning in for another slow kiss. He whispered against her lips. "I had a key."

"You still weren't invited," Finch whispered back. Her body instinctively shifted closer, brushing the flat planes of his torso. She gulped.

"Not by you," Thad said. "Invite me." His hand curled from her hip to her back as he placed the other on her shoulder. "Invite me home."

"I can't. Not right now," Finch said, and she had the good sense to look a little sorry. With someone like her, someone who read so many books, words and invitations and promises held so much meaning. "But you're coming anyway."

 Thaddeus sighed. "Yes, I am," he agreed. "At least until Van is returned from his assignment. Then I imagine he has a loud argument planned where he kicks me out again, until he's got to be away again."

Finch nodded, gulping. She rubbed her stomach absently, brow furrowed in thought. "Well, you can stay for that long anyway. If he asked you to, he must be worried."

"Very much so," Thaddeus agreed. "He loves you very much, Finch. And while I respect it, I feel like he cannot ever provide you with everything. Your loneliness in his absence is clear. Moriarty will always take the forefront. It's why I ran, little bird. I could never give my life to that."

Her lip wobbled again. Perhaps someone's pregnancy hormones were starting to kick in. Finch sniffed, wiping her eyes. "I can handle it. My mum left Papa all the time. I can be like Papa."

"I guess you will. Since your Papa had you," he said, looking at her stomach. "Still, my.. desire remains. I'll be in the car when you're ready to return home. I rather think my presence is makin' the family out of sorts."

Finch blushed, following his gaze. She tugged her shirt down again. "Stop that, it's not noticeable. It's fine. You're embarrassing me. Stop. Anyway, stay. Mum likes to flirt with young men. I asked Vance once if she'd ever- y'know, tried anything with him. He says no but I'm not certain I believe him."

"It isn't noticeable, except I was the first to know," Thad said with a secretive smile. "I'll butter your mum up some more then. I rather like her. Maybe I should join her harem instead of yours," he teased.

"You always could," Finch said helpfully, batting her eyes and smiling. "Although you'd be in line after Sherlock, Dr. John, Jack, Papa and Freya. And probably bunches of other people I haven't even figured out yet."

Thaddeus laughed. "Alas, I think I prefer second in line. Unless there's something about the White Demon I don't know.." He raised his brows and grinned.

"For the last time," Finch said, throwing up her hands. "He's so gay. Ridiculously gay. And apparently into some really kinky stuff that I wouldn't even know about."

"Don't worry. You've got time to learn," Thad said, ushering her back to the dining room.