One of the drawbacks to running a farm -- a real, honest to goodness, outside the Walls, acres of crops, old-school farm -- Moira Calloway reflected, yawning and wandering into the kitchen in slippered feet, was that you never really got a weekend.

There wasn't such a thing as a day off, unless it was planned for and penciled into the calendar weeks ahead of time.

Thank goodness for automatic coffee makers that could be programmed to brew a huge pot about five minutes before the bedroom alarm clock went off. Sometimes the scent of freshly made coffee was the only thing getting them out of bed.

"G'morning, dear," Jack, Moira's husband of forty years smiled from the breakfast nook, his hands wrapped around a healthy mug of the dark brew. His bright blue eyes were twinkling, and the man didn't look a day over forty-five. Moira smiled fondly, walking over to the table and kissing his temple through his thick silvery hair.

"Good morning," she replied, gazing fondly at the man she had married when they had both been sixteen and madly in love. They were still madly, deeply in love, and if there was a little more frost on the roof, a few more lines bracketing their smiles, she still thought that he was stunningly handsome, she knew that he found her to be beautiful, and they were intent on living another forty wonderful years together. At the very least.

The sky outside was still almost as dark as night, but there was a spread of pink warming the Eastern horizon. Moira wandered over to the window above the sink, cinching her robe more closely about her chest. She was still tall and stood straight, as hale as she had been five, ten, twenty years ago. Her long wavy red hair was white now, and she kept it above shoulder-length, but her hazel eyes were still bright and snapped with as much intelligence and willfulness as they ever had.

There were birds already singing outside, the chickens in the backyard clucking. The patio door was open, letting some cool air inside. It was only April, so it was a little chilly, but Moira took a deep breath anyway. She could smell the dew on the greenery, and the richness of the earth. Which meant that Rascal must have been digging at her herb garden again. She would have to check on that once it was light enough outside.

"What would you like for breakfast?" Jack asked her, moving toward the refrigerator, one hand lingering at her waist as he stepped past.

"Anything is fine," Moira answered with a smile. "I'm just going to get myself some coffee."

Jack pulled some eggs, cheese, and fresh cream out, retrieving the old cast iron frying pan from its cupboard. Moira stole some of the cream for her coffee, and then the phone rang.

"Six-ten," Jack commented, glancing at the ancient but still functional cuckoo clock that was on the wall near the back door. "Must be our son."

Moira chuckled, but it was true. Cal tended to forget about the time difference between the coast and the mid-west. Well, and she was sure he remembered clearly enough getting up before dawn, so he could be reasonably certain that his parents were already up.

Moira took her coffee over to the phone; they'd gotten one of those tele-display models after Cal had left, anxious for any glimpse of his much missed face, and had been truly glad for the purchase after he had finally tracked down his son, their grandson.

"Hey, Mom," Cal greeted informally as soon as she answered. He was grinning, wide and white, his fangs flashing. His hair was wet and neatly combed and he was wearing the dark leathers that Moira recognized as being his work clothes. This likely wouldn't be a long call, then.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she answered cheerfully, smiling back. Her son was so handsome, with his square jaw and fine cheekbones, his warmly sculpted mouth and perfect nose, his dark brown eyes bright with wit and good humor. Adopted when he had been under a year old, obviously part-demon from the moment they had first seen him, Moira and Jack Calloway had never thought of Cal as anything less than their own child. If Moira had borne him in her womb for nine months before he had entered their life, she was certain that she could not have loved him more.

"It's been a while since you last called," she chided gently, sipping her steaming coffee and tucking her slippered feet under the chair. The phone was in what had once been the dining nook, which was now their office, and she could smell the eggs, hear the bacon sizzling as Jack got their breakfast cooking.

"Sorry." Cal's broad shoulders lifted in a shrug, his expression a bit sheepish, though his smile didn't falter. "Things have been hectic at work lately. I keep meaning to have Jayce call you, but Rue doesn't like him using the phone unsupervised, and...."

Moira hid a small grimace behind her coffee mug. Cal's lover of two years, the adoptive father of her grandson, was almost as much a phantom figure to herself and Jack as the woman who had birthed Jayce. The difference was that Trish Whelan was dead, had been for five years now, and Cal was living with Rue Pierce. She heard about him almost every time she spoke to her son or Jayce, and she always heard good things, but of the man himself, there was no sign. Cal had sent pictures, so she knew what Rue Pierce looked like, but she had never spoken to him. He always seemed to be absent when Cal got his parents on the phone.

The photos Cal had sent showed a very handsome young man a handful of years older than her son, with chestnut hair, pale blue-green eyes, and incredible cheekbones. In some of the pictures he was smiling, a wide, slightly crooked grin, full lips and straight white teeth. Those were usually the photos taken with Jayce, either casual or posed. Sometimes he looked serious, gaze distant, strong jaw tight. Moira thought that she would like him, especially when she knew that Cal and Jayce loved him so very much, but she was a little frustrated that she never got to speak to him. Even though Cal didn't call his parents very often, it had passed beyond the point of coincidence over a year ago.

Of course, Moira was well able to read between the lines. From the things that her grandson let slip, and from the things that Cal did not say, she could surmise that the relationship between the two might not be entirely ideal. It wasn't her place to peer into her son's bedroom, nor did she want to, but she'd have to be blind to miss the implications.

Rue Pierce was not avoiding her, and so she took no offense. What she surmised to be close to the real truth was that her son's lover was trying, either consciously or subconsciously, to deny to himself that he was a part of Cal's life. This was confusing, since Moira knew that both the men considered themselves to be Jayce's parents, Cal called Rue his "mate" all the time, and they evidently had a healthy -- or at least steady -- sex life.

"How is Jayce doing?" Moira asked, setting aside her consideration of her son's connubial activities. While not as squeamish over the subject as Jack was, Cal and Rue's bedroom was not a place she wished to give too much thought. "And Rue?"

Cal hefted his own mug of coffee -- much larger than hers -- and shrugged again. "They're doing fine. Things are about the same as ever. I just realized this morning while I was showering that I hadn't called you in a while. So I thought I should."

Moira smiled fondly. Cal had left home when he had been eighteen, had traveled all over the United States before settling in New York two years ago with his son and lover, but he had always tried to stay in touch. They missed him and he made it clear that he missed them. In fact....

As though reading his wife's mind -- and after forty years she wouldn't be surprised in the least if he had -- Jack strode over. "Tell Cal what we've been talking about," he directed, handing her the plate with her breakfast, then pressing a warm hand to her shoulder and squeezing.

"What's that?" Cal looked curious, his straight brows rising eloquently.

Moira smiled a little more sharply, nibbling on a strip of bacon cooked to the perfect crispness. "Well, Cal, sweetheart," she started, "You know that we love hearing from you, and talking to Jayce...."

Cal's eyes slid to one side and he suddenly looked ill at ease. He must think that Moira was going to try to pin him down on the subject of Rue, and the fact that they had never spoken on the phone. That wasn't her intent, though, and she gave him a reassuring smile.

"So when are you bringing our grandson home to meet us?" she asked. With Cal there was no use in beating around the bush. The boy was smart, much quicker than he generally let on, but he did have some interesting blind spots. And the best way to deal with those was to just get the subject out in the open.

"Huh?"

Moira favored her son with an amused, exasperated look. "Well, sweetheart, it's been two years since you found Jayce. We didn't nag at first because you were settling into your role as a father, a new home, a new city, a steady job...." 'A difficult relationship', she did not say out loud, because she had no concrete evidence that there was anything less than perfect about Cal and Rue's joining. "But it's been a while since then. And your father and I were talking it over, and we realized that maybe you were waiting for us to invite you... or maybe the thought just hadn't occurred to you!"

From the way Cal's sweetly curved mouth had fallen open, it appeared that the latter guess had been the correct one. Moira chuckled and finished eating her eggs and bacon.

"So we're inviting you," she clarified. Jack came to stand behind her chair, waving at Cal but remaining silent. "I know it's not the best time. You're probably going to have to pull Jayce out of school for a few weeks, even with Spring Break coming up, but we're really hoping that you can make the trip. And of course we'll want you to stay for a couple of weeks or more!"

It would be at least a week's train ride each way, so the Pierce family would almost have to stay for two weeks to make the trip worthwhile. Not to mention, the more time Moira and Jack could spend with their grandson, the happier they would be.

Cal looked a little stunned; not surprised by the invite, but clearly it was something he hadn't given any consideration to earlier. Moira sighed and shook her head. They really ought to have tackled this subject earlier.

"I don't think it'll be any problem getting Jayce the time off school," Cal said thoughtfully, his dark eyes growing distant as he concentrated on the matter. "I'll have to take the time off work, but I should have at least a month in vacation that I haven't used yet. Probably more." His gaze snapped back into focus and he grinned brightly at both of his parents. "Just give me a week or so to get things arranged with Orion and Jayce's school. And--" the pause was infinitesimal, but Moira noticed it, "I'll have to make sure Rue can take the time off."

"Just let us know what dates you'll be here and what train you'll be arriving on when the time comes, sweetheart," she told him, giving him a loving smile. Then she couldn't help herself, clasping her hands before her chest like an excited teenage girl. "Ooh, we're so happy, Cal! We haven't seen you in over three years, and we can't wait to hug our grandson!"

Cal looked pleased but a little guilty. "Sorry, Mom. It just never crossed my mind...."

"We figured that out," Jack put in, leaning over Moira's shoulder to grin at Cal. "Which is why we finally decided to just ask you."

Moira wanted badly to ask Cal whether he was certain that Rue would come with them, but he had already implied that this would be the case and to pursue the matter would be in poor taste.

Cal's glance flickered to one side, and then his dark eyes widened. "Aw, crap! Mom, Dad, I gotta go or I'll be late!"

Good-byes were hastily said, and Moira extracted one last promise from Cal for updates on how the plans for the trip were going. Just before Cal signed off, Moira could swear that she caught a glimpse of a slim but broad shouldered figure in a teeshirt, with mussy chestnut hair, wandering into the den behind her son.

"I do believe that was the elusive Rue Pierce," she mused, half to herself and half to her husband.

"What?" Jack had evidently not seen. His eyesight was not as clear as hers without the glasses he was too proud to wear, and he had already been done with the conversation by the time Cal had said good-bye, ready to wander away in search of more coffee.

"Nothing." Moira smiled to herself. Rue Pierce might be able to avoid speaking to her on the phone, but before another month had passed, she fully intended to have him before her in the flesh. Then she was going to sit him down at the kitchen table with her, brew up a pot of tea, and find out everything there was to know about the man that her son had fallen in love with.

Rue Pierce wasn't going to be able to wriggle out of this one!

***

"And we're going to be taking a train, right, Dad?"

Jayce's dark brown eyes were bright, shining with delight, his cheeks glowing pink. He was thrilling to the idea of the upcoming trip, though it wasn't clear at the moment whether he was more excited by the prospect of the train ride or seeing his grandparents in the flesh for the first time. Cal had been pumped for all the information he had regarding the farm he had grown up on, and after he had told Jayce everything he could remember, he's been pressed to tell the boy's favorite parts a second or third time.

"Sure are," Cal replied, grinning with sympathy for his son's enthusiasm. "Just remember, though, that most of the train trip is going to be in tunnels, not above-ground."

Jayce didn't seem deterred by this warning, and Rue smiled, sipping at his unsweetened iced tea. It was an unseasonably warm afternoon in mid-April; hot and humid enough that they were sitting in the shade on their back patio, drinking iced tea and snacking on chips and veggie sticks. They'd been joined by their friends and neighbors, Jess Reynolds and Ryan Mason. All the men were topless, Cal in jeans, Rue and Ryan in shorts. Jess was wearing a small tank and a pair of what looked like Ryan's boxer-briefs. Jayce had stripped down to nothing but a pair of underpants, and Rue would have chided him for this lack of modesty if it hadn't been so hot. As it was, he just sat and stewed, drinking his cool beverage, wondering if it wasn't closer to July than April -- it sure felt like it!

"Was it any trouble getting Jayce out of school for a month?" Jess asked, tilting her head to one side. She had her thick brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, a few wisps falling to frame her feline features. Her slanted green eyes were turned in Rue's direction, and so he answered.

"Not really. Jayce could've been skipped to second grade by now, easily. We've talked it over with him and decided not to, because all of his friends and peers are in the first grade. But that means that it won't hurt anything for him to miss the time. He'll catch up quickly, and in some subjects he's already been reading ahead."

Jess was nodding, her lush lips pursed. She looked impressed but not surprised. Rue smiled to himself over the little thrill of pride it always gave him to communicate Jayce's advancement. He might not be the boy's blood father, but he was Jayce's parent as surely as Cal was, and Jayce had been with him longer. It made him feel good that, as a parent, he could be everything his own father had not been. Loving, supportive, proud, accepting....

Rue sank back in his chair, puffing out a breath and running graceful fingers through the sweat-damp hair at the back of his neck. He hated being overly warm. He hated sweating. He'd had a shower after coming home from work, and he already wanted another one. Damn it all.

"Lucky you!" Ryan enthused, grinning at Jayce, his teeth white against the dark of his beard. His boyish face was cheerful, dark eyes twinkling. Rue suspected that Ryan had grown the facial hair in an attempt to look more rugged; in which case he hadn't succeeded.

Ryan was quite a handsome man, not as stunning as his partner, but definitely attractive. But whether it was his warm, dark brown eyes or his ready grin, somehow he always looked, despite the beard and bushy eyebrows, like a big, cuddly teddy bear. And Rue knew that he wasn't the only one who thought this. Jess, however, seemed to find him sexy enough. Good for her. Of course, the fact that Ryan was stripped down to nothing but pumped up muscle and tight tendons probably didn't hurt any. As was Jess herself.

Ryan was perched on the bench along the patio railing, his finely etched upper torso tiger-striped with the sun shining through maple leaves. He was seated comfortably enough, but there was something about the way he kept his face turned away from Rue, the way his eyes skittered away every time he accidentally glanced in his direction that was beginning to annoy Rue. Especially since Jess was sitting right next to him, looking extremely hot, meaning that this area of the patio was one Ryan should have had his gaze usually fixed on.

"I'm not lucky, I'm smart!" Jayce declared, with a broad smirk and an endearing lack of false modesty. Everyone had to chuckle at that.

"I found out when I checked that I actually have six months of vacation built up," Cal was saying, pouring himself some more iced tea. He grinned, smooth cheeks dimpling. "Guess that means I ought to take breaks more often!"

"Well, that works out for you, though," Jess said, making a long arm and putting her glass on the table without straightening where she had sunk into her chair, similarly to Rue. "That way there's no need to worry."

Ryan turned his head as though he would follow the conversation as it moved naturally to his partner, but then he twisted his neck, lifting a hand to shield his eyes on that side.

"Hey, Rue," he said, sounding a little strained. "Do you think you could do me a favor and go put a shirt on?"

Rue stared at Ryan a moment, unable to understand the request -- or, rather, the reason behind it. Why on earth would...? Then heat rose in his face, and he wasn't sure whether it was embarrassment, anger, or a mixture of both.

"Ryan!" Jess was shocked and appalled.

"Well, I'm sorry!" Ryan blurted, not sounding all that sorry, really, just sort of aggravated. "But I can't stand sitting here and seeing all those... those...." He waved a hand meant to be expressive toward Rue, but still refused to meet his neighbor's eyes.

Rue glared. He was mad at Cal for marking him. He was mad at Ryan for drawing attention to it. And he was feeling more than a little put out that Cal and Jayce were so excited over the trip that was going to take them away from him and leave him alone at home for an entire month. Not that this last was in any way related to the first two.... And he was mad at the weather for suddenly turning so hot.

"Ryan..." Jess' tone was disapproving, warning, but now that Ryan had drawn his attention to it, Rue couldn't just sit out here like this.

"Fine," he snapped, rising abruptly out of his chair and stalking into the house. "Fucking jerk," he growled as he slammed into the master bedroom, and he wasn't sure whether he was talking about Ryan or Cal, who he hadn't quite dared to glance at before coming inside. He'd probably looked smug, the possessive bastard.

Making a detour into the bathroom to scrub his face, shoulders, and chest with a cool, wet washcloth, Rue reluctantly turned to examine himself in the full length mirror. With an internal groan, he had to admit that he could see why Ryan had been having trouble. Not only was there a vibrant, fresh mark on one collarbone, but there was a fading hickey on one pectoral, another new one on his belly, and two on his inner thigh. It didn't help that every single one of the purple-pink bruises was clearly bracketed by bite marks. From a large mouth. With pointed fangs.

Damned fangs, Rue thought to himself angrily. And damn Cal for doing this to him, all the time! And damn Ryan for making a big deal about it!

Throwing the washcloth in the sink, Rue returned to the bedroom and angrily pulled on a teeshirt, then shed his shorts and tugged on a pair of cotton pajama bottoms. He didn't want to be wearing these, wished that he could lounge around in his shorts, as he had been doing, as the other men could still do, but noooooo. He was being regularly fucked, bitten, and marked by a goddamn vampiric, part-demon asshole! Was this his life? Was this the life of a normal man? He could remember a time when he had not had to do a check in the mirror before leaving the house, hadn't had to make sure that there were no hickeys, no bruises, no clear bite marks where anyone could see. That time had been over two years ago....

Rue groaned, scrubbing at his face with both hands. He stood in the bedroom doorway, pausing a moment to take a few deep, cleansing breaths, trying to let go his anger. It was useless anyway. His life was not normal and never would be. He'd have to do his best to deal with it.

As he padded barefoot through the kitchen, toward the back patio door, Rue reflected with a sudden burst of self realization and honesty that the real reason he was probably so annoyed with Cal was because the man seemed so blithe about taking Jayce away from him for an entire month. Rue didn't begrudge Jayce a chance to meet his grandparents -- he certainly wouldn't be meeting Rue's parents, ever -- but the fact that Cal was so eager over the whole trip, and it would be four whole weeks before Rue saw his son again....

When he had narrowly missed stumbling into the tail end of Cal's phone call three days ago, Rue had only felt relief. He was sure that Cal's parents were perfectly nice people, much better than his own had been. And Jayce just loved them. But he didn't know what he would say, couldn't bring himself to face the two people who had raised Cal from a baby. Cal was their son, their only child. Rue was a stranger. How could he talk to people who surely loved Cal as much as he loved Jayce? Could he complain about the way Cal continually forced him into sexual relations? Could he tell Cal's mother how embarrassing moments like this were, when he had to go and put on more clothing in order to cover the marks that Cal left on him?

Rue knew that it was a little rude, the way he so rigorously avoided speaking to Cal's parents. But how could he connect with them? As Cal's lover? He couldn't bring himself to use that word most of the time, even in his own head. He was the other father to their grandchild... but was that enough of a bond? It didn't seem so to Rue.

He steadfastly refused to use the word "in-law". He was not Cal's wife, and they weren't married. He wasn't a woman.

He wasn't a woman, and he was certain that the news of Cal's choice, that he would be living with Rue -- until Cal got tired of him the insecure portion of Rue's brain whispered -- had been nothing but a disappointment to Cal's parents. Rue wasn't what they would have wanted for their son. He couldn't be.

At least they had one grandchild. And Rue was sure that they were going to be thrilled to meet Jayce and would just love the boy. That much he couldn't begrudge them, even though he was going to miss his son horribly while he was gone.

On his way through the kitchen, Rue grabbed another pitcher, filling it with ice cubes and more iced tea. It was getting close to dinner time, but it was too hot to think about food yet. Once Cal or Jayce spoke up, Rue would decide where they were going to go eat. Until then, though, the damp blanket of unseasonal heat and humidity had completely killed Rue's appetite.

"So you'll watch the house while we're gone?" Cal was saying, as Rue slid the patio screen open and stepped outside.

"Glad to," Jess responded cheerfully. "Don't worry about a thing!"

Rue's brow furrowed as he set the pitcher down on the patio table next to the empty one, then rounded on the man he didn't want to label as his lover.

"What the hell are you talking about, Cal?" he demanded, planting his hands on his hips. He knew he was scowling, his mouth pulled tight, but he was confused and felt a creeping sense of dread as understanding began to wash over him. "Why would Jess and Ryan need to watch the house? I'm going to be here."

From the corner of his eye he could see Jess' mouth forming that familiar "oh shit" circle, her eyes widening. Ryan shifted uncomfortably on the bench. But Rue ignored them both, his gaze fixed on Cal's face.

"Huh?" The surprise that he could read there only served to piss him off more, as Cal blurted out the words that he had half expected but been dreading. "But you're coming with us!"

"And when exactly did you decide that?" Rue asked coldly. Before he had been overly heated with anger and irritation. Now a wave of icy fury and apprehension broke over him, stiffening his spine and tingling in the roots of his hair.

"Hey, Jayce, you wanna come have dinner with us?" Jess offered, standing gracefully and holding a hand out to the boy. Jayce wasted no time in sliding off his chair and heading into the house to get some clothes on. Jess went with him, leaving Ryan on the patio with Cal and Rue.

"Aaaaah, shit," Ryan hissed, though not loudly enough to call Rue's ire down on his own head. "Hey, guys, call us when you want Jayce back, okay?"

With that, Ryan escaped, bounding across the backyard toward his own place next door. When Rue was that pissed, it was only prudent to vacate the area.

***

Cal waited helplessly for Rue to explain. There had evidently been some sort of major misunderstanding, but he couldn't imagine how Rue could ever have thought he wasn't coming on this trip. He was as much a part of the family as Jayce or Cal himself, after all!

Rue's nostrils were flaring in that familiar way, his jaw tight, his body language screaming aggression. And yet there was something there that Cal recognized as anxiety. It spiked the salty scent of Rue's anger with a tang of bitterness.

Instead of yelling, Rue maintained a harsh silence, his normally plush mouth a thin line as he grabbed the pitcher he had just brought out in one hand, the empty pitcher in the other. Cal jumped forward to open the patio door for him as he moved to carry them inside. Rue dumped both in the sink, then swept back outside for the veggie tray and dip. Cal belatedly grabbed the bowl of chips and followed Rue on his second trip back to the kitchen.

In the front of the house Cal could hear Jess and Jayce letting themselves out. He hated arguing in front of their son and was grateful to Jess and Ryan for being willing to take the boy until he and Rue got this settled. Though he still couldn't see what the trouble was.

"Rue," he tried, setting the bowl gingerly on the kitchen island, as Rue viciously dumped the last of the drying, curling vegetables down the disposal, following them with the remainder of the dip.

"Rue?" Cal tried again, hoping he wasn't whining. Rue ignored him completely, running hot water and dish soap in the sink and beginning to scrub at the dishes. Cal grimaced. Whenever Rue started cleaning unnecessarily, it meant that he was really pissed off. Not that Cal couldn't already feel, smell, sense the rage pouring off of his flesh.

Against his own better judgment, Cal released the bowl, stepping up behind Rue on silent feet. Rue tensed, his back straight as a ruler, as Cal placed his hands on the shorter man's shoulders from behind.

"Cal!" he snapped, his voice cracking in warning. Cal almost let go, but the more he thought on the subject, the more his own anger began to surge.

Using the strength that Rue couldn't match, Cal turned his mate to face him. Rue was pissed off, so very pissed off, but so was Cal now, and he wasn't going to let this go without discussion.

"What the hell?!" Rue snarled, his hands wet and soapy where they pushed against Cal's bare pectorals. As ever, Cal's hormones jumped at their close proximity, lust rising at the touch of Rue's flesh against his own, but now was not the time.

"What the hell, Rue?!" Cal echoed back at him, his dark brows beetling. He kept a firm grip on Rue's shoulders, feeling the other man quivering under his touch. He glared down, sensing the sudden flare of uncertainty and fear that sent a shudder through Rue's body, but ignoring it for the moment. "What the hell made you think you weren't coming with us?!"

Rue stared up at him for a moment, his jaw working, stubborn chin raised defiantly. Cal experienced the sudden urge to crush Rue's mouth under his own, to sample and taste his mate's anger. But now was definitely not the time for that.

"Why would I come?" Rue spat out, trying to twist loose from Cal's hold. It seemed deceptively gentle, though, and there was no way Cal was letting Rue get away. "They're your parents, Cal. They want to see you. They want to see Jayce. I'm a complete stranger -- why would they want to meet me?!"

Cal growled, irritated by Rue's steadfast refusal, even after two years, to believe, to understand. "Because you're my mate, Rue! You--"

"Stop using that word!" Rue yelled, his hands fisting over Cal's chest. His blue-green eyes were wide, his face drawn in an expression that was equal parts fury and panic. "Goddamn it, Cal!"

What was Rue so fearful of? Cal gave it a moment's consideration, then thought that he might have the answer.

"You don't have to be nervous about meeting my parents, Rue," he said, softening his tone from his anger of a moment before. "They're dying to meet you. And they're going to love you."

Rue just stared at him for a moment, that delicious mouth hanging open, evidently rendered speechless. Cal tilted his head, wondering what it was that was giving his mate the most trouble. There were so many things that went on in Rue's head that he just couldn't understand. Sometimes it seemed as though Rue deliberately tied himself up in knots over the silliest things, but they must be of real importance to him,

"I don't think..." Rue choked, his lashes fluttering wildly over conflicted blue eyes. "I don't think so, Cal...."

Cal felt a growl building up inside him. He wasn't sure where to start telling Rue where he was wrong, and so he did the first thing that entered his head.

Rue gasped as Cal crushed their mouths together with almost bruising ferocity. One of Cal's large hands splayed at the nape of his mate's neck, preventing him from jerking back away from the kiss. He locked his other arm around Rue's waist, pulling the shorter man into the sway of his torso. It only took a moment for Cal to thrust his tongue into Rue's mouth, but once there he lingered, tasting the sharpness of iced tea and the unique sweet salt flavor that was Rue's mouth.

After a few pounding heartbeats, Cal's kiss changed from something meant to silence both of them -- preventing Rue from saying anything stupid and preventing Cal from saying things that he was sure would only piss Rue off more -- into something warmer, more gentle, passionate.

Cal only slowly became aware that Rue was struggling in his arms, hands hitting his chest, doing his best to push him away.

Raising his head, Cal licked his lips. He loved the way Rue's mouth looked after he had been so thoroughly kissed; wet and bruised and darkened, his lips parted to allow small gasping breaths to tumble forth.

"Fucker! Is that your answer to everything?" Rue shouted, striking Cal's chest with a frantic fist, his eyes flashing. "Sex?!"

"Well." Cal gave it a moment's calm consideration, ignoring the negligible assault. Even if he tried Rue wouldn't be able to hurt Cal, and he wasn't really trying. "Yes."

Rue let out a wordless sound of rage and did his best to squirm free. But Cal's grip on him was too firm, his arms and hands far more powerful than those of a normal man. Being one-fourth Nephilim meant never having to let go of your mate if you didn't want to.

"Hold still," Cal growled, lifting Rue up, turning, and bodily sitting him on the island counter. Cal was four inches over six feet to Rue's five-nine, and so this put their faces pretty much on level, with Rue a little higher now.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Rue cried, his hands clutching at Cal's bare shoulders, his eyes wide at the unexpected change in position. Cal kept his hands at Rue's waist as he leaned forward for another kiss.

"No!" Rue cried, flinching back, moving his mouth out of range. Undeterred, Cal latched onto the side of Rue's neck, employing sharp fangs and fierce suction. "Ow! Fuck! Cal, knock it off, that hurts!"

Hearing the real pain in his mate's voice, Cal laid off, licking carefully at the tender flesh before letting go.

As Cal straightened he could hear Rue drawing in a deep, shaky breath. Anticipating a lecture, Cal seized on an idea for a distraction... and Rue's teeshirt. Grasping a double handful of the flimsy material, Cal made quick work of tearing the article of clothing right off of Rue.

"The fuck?!" Rue shouted, his voice almost shrill. If Cal had been human, Rue's nails would have scratched great gouges into the surface of his upper arms. "Cal, what do you think you're doing?!"

Despite the outrage in his tone, Cal could smell the sexual arousal rolling off of Rue, tickling his nose with its enticing musk. He gripped the back of Rue's neck with one hand again, holding him still while he claimed and plundered those enticing lips, swallowing the curses that Rue inevitably tossed at him whenever they came together like this. His other hand roamed over the flesh he had bared, stroking the muscles to either side of Rue's spine, tweaking a nipple, before diving down between Rue's thighs.

Rue keened into Cal's mouth as Cal's fingers closed around his stiff cock through the thin material of his pants. His hands were hard against Cal's chest and shoulders, but if he was straining to push away, Cal couldn't tell the difference.

Cal pulled back slightly, nipping at Rue's plush lower lip, his one hand as still as stone at the nape of Rue's neck, the other gentle and delicate as he handled his mate's rapidly rousing member. Rue whined a little, the muscles of his thighs bunching as he tried once again to wriggle away.

"Hold still," Cal rumbled against Rue's mouth, as they panted together, sharing breath for a few tense moments. "Rue."

"Asshole," Rue croaked, sounding as though he was trying to yell but failing. "Fucker, let me go!"

Rue only cursed when they had sex, and Cal's cock had long ago learned to make the association. Profanity falling from Rue's lips never failed to elicit an answering twitch in Cal's erection. As his desire spiked, Cal growled again and latched onto the spot he had bitten before, making sure to mark it thoroughly this time. Rue squirmed, his fists pounding on Cal's broad shoulders, and Cal wrapped him up in both arms, holding him still as he made sure to bring the blood to the surface.

"Goddamn it, goddamn it, you asshole!" Rue howled, striking out in vain. "Let me go!!"

Cal did not, in fact, let Rue go. He did drag his mouth away, planting a heavy kiss on Rue's lips, then tugged him down off the counter. Before Rue could do anything more than get his feet under himself, Cal was tearing off his pajama bottoms, sending them the way of the teeshirt and exposing Rue entirely to the air. Cal was gratified to take note that Rue wasn't wearing underpants as he crowded him up against the counter, grasping Rue's cock in one hand and shoving his own denim-covered erection to grind against Rue's hip.

"Bastard!" Rue gasped when Cal finally released his lips, arching back over the counter as though there was any chance he could get away from the larger man. "Fuck, Cal! Stop ripping my clothes!"

"Sorry," Cal muttered, licking the sweat off the side of Rue's face and reaching around to palm a handful of sweet ass. His Rue had the best rear end in the world, and before too much more time had passed, he was going to bury his aching cock into it, balls deep.

Rue was writhing in his arms, scented with sex and sweat and spice; the smell of Rue and of their rutting. It filled Cal's nose, twined through his brain, and drove any thoughts of anything other than fucking out of his head. With a low rumble, Cal bent and plastered his mouth against Rue's. Both hands caressing Rue's tight ass cheeks, and it seemed as though Rue's mouth was pliant under his, as though Cal's mate was actually, finally kissing him back.

Rue groaned into Cal's mouth, his hands clutching at Cal's shoulders as the larger man milked his lips and tongue, his hips moving in small circles. Cal's jeans were beginning to get truly uncomfortable; at least they were button fly, so he didn't have a zipper chafing him.

Cal moved his mouth along Rue's jaw and over his sharp cheekbone, lapping at the taste of salt sweat tears maybe. Grasping Rue's wrists, he pulled his mate's hands between them, rubbing them against his trapped hard-on. He could hear Rue gasp in his ear, and he nipped at an earlobe, careful not to break the skin. Rue let out a sound suspiciously like a whimper, his arms spasming in Cal's grip. But his fingers unfolded, and within a moment he was smoothing one palm over the pulsing heat that swelled against Cal's jeans.

Cal groaned, his hips jerking toward this hesitant caress. He loosed one of Rue's wrists, reaching up to grip the base of Rue's skull again, pulling his mate into a kiss that ground their lips between hard teeth in a manner more painful than pleasurable.

Rue loosed a low sound, and his now free hand groped for the fly of Cal's jeans. Cal could feel the tug at the material, and suddenly there was a burst of freedom. His cock was still trapped inside his jeans, but the pressure had been partially released as his fly unfurled.

Dragging their mouths apart with a wet gasp, Cal grabbed Rue and whipped him around, pushing him against the counter, one arm over his back like an iron band while he used his other hand to fish himself out of his jeans.

"Cal!" Rue sounded more upset than angry, betrayed and a little fearful. Cal pressed closer, wrapping his arms around Rue's upper torso, nibbling at the delicate spot at the knob of his spine, where his shoulders, back, and neck met. "Ah, fuck!" Rue was gasping for breath as Cal rubbed his weeping hard-on up against that glorious ass. Jerking Rue back into him, Cal bit at the side of his neck again, reaching for the cooking oil that was sitting conveniently on the island near Rue's head.

"Sh-shit!" Rue ground back against Cal, the smell of sex and desire radiating from him driving Cal crazy. "Let me-- let me go!!"

In response Cal planted a hand between Rue's shoulderblades and shoved him back down onto the countertop. Rue whined, thrown off balance and unable to get any real leverage. While he was trapped and helpless, Cal snapped the lid off of the bottle of oil and made short work of lubricating his straining erection. The hard touch of his own fingers made him growl, his cock twitching hungrily. Still, he wasn't in so much of a hurry that he didn't take the time to make sure that Rue was liberally anointed and somewhat stretched before he placed the blunt head of his aching cock between those tight cheeks, nuzzling up against his entrance.

"Fuck, fuck," Rue was sobbing between clenched teeth, struggling against the heavy hand holding him down. His arms moved against the counter, knocking over a few random bottles, but he was unable to shift his larger, determined lover. Cal growled, using his free hand to hold Rue's hips still as he punched inside of him in one long, slow stroke. "A-ah~!!" Rue cried out, shuddering where he was bent over the counter, his entire body tensing. "Cal!"

Cal leaned over his captive mate, still pressing him down, his oil-slick hand coming around to grip Rue's undeniable erection, handling it in slick strokes that moved in time with the easy in and out motion he settled into quickly. Rue moaned, writhing beneath him, then stiffened and yelped as Cal's teeth sank into the meaty muscle where his shoulder and neck met.

They breathed in harsh counterpoint, their bodies coming together in a rhythm that was neither tender nor easy, but one which was undeniably real and drove them both quickly toward climax. Cal shoved Rue up against the counter, using his weight to give force to each thrust, and Rue bucked under him, fucking his own hard, throbbing cock into Cal's oily hand.

Rue came first, shouting out his release, fingers scrabbling over the smooth counter, his seed spilling thick and blood-hot into Cal's palm and over his fingers, staining the cupboard door before him. Cal wasn't far behind, though, the thick scent of Rue's come, the clenching of that fine ass around his intrusive member, and the small broken sounds that his mate was making under him bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

Cal loosed his teeth from Rue's neck before he could clamp down and break flesh, using both hands on Rue's hips to pull him forcefully back into each thrust. It wasn't long before he felt the growing pressure inside break, and he bent over Rue, slamming in hard and deep, then stayed inside, moving in small shocks and shouting out his own pleasure.

They remained like that for long moments, breath coming quick and panting, racing heartbeats slowing, Cal still huge and hard inside of Rue.

Cal reluctantly pulled away, gentle hands turning Rue and gathering him into his arms. Rue's eyelids fluttered, then he opened dazed blue eyes, pupils dilated. His face was flushed, his mouth damp and crimson, and every inch of him was covered in perspiration, his hair plastered damply to his skull.

Nuzzling at Rue's temple, Cal held onto his shivering body. Rue leaned into him, but it was clearly for the support, and not truly out of affection.

"You fucker," Rue mumbled, doing his best to glare at Cal, though he was really too exhausted and sated to do a good job of it. "Can't believe you just did that. 'S too hot for fucking."

Cal kissed Rue sweetly, then hefted him into his arms. He glanced regretfully around the kitchen. There was oil and semen all over the place, and all over Rue. He'd have to get both cleaned up before Rue regained his strength, or there would be hell to pay.

"I'll help you shower," he offered, already carrying Rue toward their bedroom and the attached bathroom.

"B'ter not fuck me again," Rue grumbled, but his head was resting in the hollow of Cal's shoulder and he was relaxed in Cal's arms. "Still mad at you, y'know."

Cal chuckled and kissed Rue's forehead. "I won't fuck you if you don't want me to."

"We're still going to discuss this trip," Rue said, rousing some as they entered the bathroom.

"Okay," Cal agreed cooperatively enough. His stomach growled loudly. "But can we talk after dinner?"

Rue huffed, not quite a laugh, but a sound more amused than not. "All right. It's a deal."

***

In the end it was Jayce who cast the deciding vote, winning the argument for Cal. It hadn't been the first time. The first time... had been the first time. If Rue had thought for an instant that Cal was using Jayce to blackmail him things would have gotten ugly very quickly. But that was clearly not the case. Jayce's big puppy-dog eyes and pleading expression were all his own, and they were more than Rue could resist, even at the best of times.

"Daddy, you have to come!" Jayce was as shocked as Cal had been to discover that Rue had been assuming he wasn't making the trip with them. "You have to!"

And it was that easy. Jayce didn't need to lay out reasons. He didn't need to convince Rue. He didn't even have to ask in so many words. Rue knew defeat when he faced it.

That didn't stop him from stressing over the whole venture. It couldn't.

Getting the time off was easy enough. Rue was freelance in theory, and so long as he finished his current assignment, he was free to take off as much time as his bank account could stand. One month wasn't going to be a big problem, although Rue did hate losing all that work.

The hard part was getting through the four days leading up to the trip. Packing was simple and all too quickly accomplished. Getting all the laundry done, the house cleaned... Rue was actually a little too thorough there.

He was resigned to the trip. Most of the time he tried not to think about it. But every once in a while panic bubbled up in him, too powerful to be quelled, needing an outlet. And so he cleaned.

When the panic hit, when the stress rolled off of him in waves, when he set to scrubbing and vacuuming with a violence that was almost frightening, Cal and Jayce knew to give him wide berth. Cal could read Rue's body language and smell the fear in him. That wasn't something he could help with and if he had tried, Rue would have turned his negative energy to chewing Cal out instead of expending it harmlessly on the house. Jayce didn't quite have his father's animal instincts, but he had lived with Rue almost his entire young life, and both of his fathers suspected that he was more than a little empathetic. Jayce was always the first one to head out whenever Rue started on one of his cleaning jags.

That was why, the afternoon before the day of departure, when Jayce stood on the lawn beside the driveway, waving both arms to flag Cal down, Cal took his thumb immediately off the garage door button and turned off the engine as soon as his back bumper was over the edge of the sidewalk.

Cal rolled down his window, leaning out as Jayce scampered over. The boy was wearing his sandals and a plaid over his teeshirt, since the weather was variable. He looked ready to go out and play, but his eyes were round with anxiety.

"Daddy is cleaning the garage!" Jayce announced breathlessly, before Cal could even ask what was wrong.

"Shit," Cal breathed. Thank goodness there was only one more day to go, or they might not survive Rue's furious anxiety. The fact that Rue was tackling the garage might mean that he had run out of other things to clean, or that this panic attack was too big to be restricted to laundry and mopping, or it could be a bit of both. Either way, it was more than Cal's head was worth to disturb him in his self-appointed task.

"Hey, Jayce," Cal said, plastering a strained smile on his face. "You wanna go to the park for a while?"

Jayce nodded vigorously, then ran around to the other side of the Jeep, clambering in and fastening his seat belt.

As Cal pulled out and drove away from the house he couldn't help but feel like a coward. There ought to have been something he could do to calm Rue.... But he knew without even attempting it that if he had tried he would only have made things worse. When Rue was angry and upset he baked, and Jess could be sent over to talk some sense into him. But when he cleaned, it was because it was something worse, something that he felt he couldn't deal with. And since Cal couldn't understand what the problem was, why Rue was so scared of meeting his parents, it was best that he keep his nose out.

"I'm glad we're leaving tomorrow," Jayce spoke up from the front seat, sounding subdued but not too troubled.

"So am I," Cal agreed. He wasn't sure that things would be better once they were on their way, but at least on the train there wouldn't be anything to clean.

***

"What do you mean no sex?!"

Rue smirked at Cal from where he was sitting crosslegged on their wide bed. He'd finally found something about the upcoming trip that pleased him.

"No sex, Cal," he repeated, knowing that he had the most obnoxiously smug expression on his face right now and not caring. "We're going to be sharing our suite on the train with Jayce. For a week."

Cal's dark eyes were wide. He looked stunned.

"No sex for a week," Rue clarified. The fact that he knew from past experience what happened whenever Cal was denied for any length of time longer than one day -- the sheer forcefulness of his next sexual assault -- took second place to his sense of triumph. Ever since it had been decided without his input that he would be going along on this trip he had felt a complete lack of control. Now, in being able to deny Cal sex, he felt as though he was getting a little of that purloined authority back.

Cal's mouth was working, and he looked as though he wanted, needed to argue. But he couldn't. Because what Rue said was true, and he knew it.

They were all packed. Jayce was in bed, though it had been hard to get him there with the bright promise of the morrow's trip energizing him. Jess and Ryan already had a spare key to the house and Jess had promised to keep the plants watered. Rue had made sure that the refrigerator was cleaned out and scrubbed. All the dishes were clean, all the laundry done, folded, and put away. There wasn't anything more to be done in preparation.

A sudden dangerous gleam flared to life in Cal's dark eyes, and Rue's stomach clenched in a natural response.

"Well," Cal said, the words almost a purr, not quite a growl, as he padded toward the bed. "If that's the case, then we're just going to have to make sure tonight makes up for that fact."

"Wha--" Rue swallowed, his throat suddenly dry and tight. "No!"

But it didn't matter what protestations he voiced, or how he struggled to get away. He had been right before. Now Cal was right. And intent upon proving it to Rue.

"Fuck!"

***

"This is so cool!" Jayce exclaimed, bouncing on his narrow bunk. The spread was a horrible puce paisley, but that didn't matter -- they were finally on their way!

The suite they had on the train wasn't large and Cal's bulk made it seem even smaller, but it was going to be home for seven days, until they reached his father's hometown. Jayce didn't mind, even though he knew that Rue was a little irritated that the bed he would be sharing with Cal was going to be a tight fit for the two of them.

Actually, his Daddy was irritated in general. Jayce could think of several reasons why, but since one of those involved the cause of Rue's stilted stride and the extra large bruise that extended up the side of his neck above his collar, he was pretty sure he would be swiftly informed that it was "none of his business".

Which was fine with Jayce. He was also aware that Rue was still nervous about meeting his Gramma and Grampa. Jayce was only excited, but he knew that Rue wasn't anticipating the meeting.

"Dad, tell me about the farm again," Jayce requested, as Rue dragged clothing out of the suitcases and put them into the drawers provided, and Cal gingerly settled himself onto the bigger bed. After years spent using a huge, sturdy bed, Cal was going to have to be careful not to damage this more fragile piece of furniture.

Cal grinned at Jayce, his fangs flashing, eyes bright with an eagerness that he shared with his son. He was heading home for the first time in three years and was clearly looking forward to it. "You're going to have to be more specific than that, Jayce," he responded.

"It's a long train ride," Rue muttered, where he was kneeling between the bed and Jayce's bunk, before the low drawer area. "You might as well tell us everything."

Cal quirked a brow and blinked at the back of Rue's neck. Jayce grinned broadly and hopped down off his bunk, tossing his arms around his Daddy's neck. He had known it! Rue was excited about this trip as well!

***

The train ride was uneventful, boring, dull... with one and a half exceptions.

Jayce had, at Rue's insistence, brought along his portable game system with plenty of games, three thick books, and several mini-vids to watch. There were also movies showing in the train theatre and there was a small arcade that the boy frequented. He slipped away to explore a couple of times, but Rue came down on him so hard after the second expedition that he didn't try for a third.

The time passed much more slowly for Cal. He was used to action, used to working, used to spending hours outside the Walls patrolling. He was also used to fucking Rue once a day at the very least; usually more like three or four times. Sleeping spooned against Rue was an exercise in torment, especially with Jayce in the bunk only five feet away, sleeping soundly, innocent of his father's desires. Rue had to be aware -- there was no way he could miss the hardness that pressed up against him most of the night, every night.

As for Rue, he had brought a stack of books himself, and borrowed more from the train's library, but he didn't get as much time to himself to read as he would have liked. There a rambunctious six year old to watch, and Cal came close to driving him nuts.

Not only was there the sighing and the overemphasized boredom, not only was there the enforced closeness in their small suite, but Cal had wandering hands, and they wandered more when Rue couldn't escape into his den, or the kitchen, or work. Never mind that they couldn't consummate. Never mind that Rue hissed at him every time to knock it off, to stop touching him, goddamn it!

When Rue was sitting quietly on their bed, reading one of his books, there was Cal, trying to lay his head down in Rue's lap; something that he wouldn't have encouraged at the best of times, but when Cal turned his face into Rue's crotch and his hot, moist breath washed through the material of Rue's pants, that was just about enough.

When he lay on his belly, propped on his elbows, watching one of Jayce's mini-vids, Cal's palm was heavy and warm on his rear, caressing, squeezing.

When they slept at night, Cal's fingers crept toward his groin, traced over his belly, until Rue elbowed him hard and told him to knock it off so that they could sleep.

The worst thing, Rue thought, was that his body responded to these outrageous trespasses. As much as he tried, he couldn't control his involuntary reactions; if it had been a case of mind over matter, after all, he and Cal would have stopped having sex two years ago, before they had even really started.

There was no privacy on the train, especially not in their suite. Rue would never countenance locking Jayce out, even though he did allow the boy to go to the arcade alone sometimes. Besides, their room wasn't soundproofed. Not that he wanted Cal to bone him... this was a nice respite for him, right?

That was what he thought, honestly thought. Until the afternoon three days into the train ride, when Cal crowded him into the train's restroom, all urgent mouth and seeking hands, tearing clothing and swallowing him whole. There wasn't any fucking, for which Rue was supremely grateful, but they did both get off. Unfortunately, Cal also put an elbow through the wall between the restroom and the hall. After that humiliation, Rue was more careful never to be alone where he could be ambushed, and Cal was a little cowed, a little more restrained.

That still didn't stop him from doing it again, the last afternoon before their arrival. This time no errant body parts caused damage, because Cal was being more careful. Rue was ready to skin Cal alive, but with Cal's inherent invulnerability that was physically impossible and they would be facing the man's parents in less than twenty-four hours, so he settled for sinking into a sullen silence.

It wasn't just because of the molestation in the restroom. Now that they were on the verge of meeting Cal's parents the anxiety that had always been fluttering its wings in the back of Rue's head suddenly surged to the fore, filling him up and choking him with something that wasn't quite dread, but was very close to it.

That morning they dressed to Rue's specifications, with a little input from Cal. It was his home they were arriving at, and he warned them that the weather was going to be warmer than New York's. Jayce wore a light, pale blue button-up cotton shirt with short sleeves and a pair of dark corduroy pants with his usual sandals. Cal had on a pair of new jeans, his sneakers, and at Rue's insistence he changed from the navy tank he wanted to wear to a nice white teeshirt.

"They're my parents," Cal tried to protest, "I don't see why I have to try to impress them." One look at the stony glare on Rue's face, the clenching of his jaw, and Cal shut up in a hurry, doing as his lover asked.

Unfortunately for Rue, he had to wear a high collar. He balanced his grey turtleneck with a pair of black slacks and black hiking boots. He looked neat and professional; not at all like a cyber-Wiccan, and not very much like a man who was about to visit a farm outside the Walls.

Rue had already packed everything the evening before, neatly and compulsively. As he sat on the edge of the bed, counting out the last hours, practically vibrating from tension, Jayce crawled into his lap. Wrapping his arms around his son and breathing the clean, small boy scent of Jayce's hair helped to calm him some, and so he only panicked a little when the train pulled into the station, coming to a jerking stop.

"Here we are!" Cal grinned, clearly excited. He swung Jayce up onto one arm, and held the other hand out to Rue.

It was a clear sign of how ill at ease he was the Rue accepted Cal's help in rising to his feet. Though he did, immediately upon gaining them, tug his hand away.

Cal gave him a long, probing glance, and then silently led the way out of their suite. The porters would get the luggage. They were in the heartland, and it was time to meet the in-laws.

***

"Jack, I'm nervous!" Moira declared suddenly as the train rolled into the underground station, clutching at her husband's arm. She looked her best, her silver hair pulled back into a casual twist at the back of her head. She wore a short-sleeve brown turtleneck, a tan print skirt, and a long cream-colored lace vest over both. Jack was proud to have such a fine woman on his arm, but she was beginning to squeeze a little too tightly.

"It'll be fine," Jack soothed, patting at her fingers. She loosened her grip after a moment, smiling up at him. Jack was only wearing a pair of jeans and a buttoned-up plaid over a white teeshirt, but they were his best.

"I'm just so.... We've never spoken to Rue," Moira fretted, her eyes fixed on the train as the doors opened and passengers began to file off. "What if he...."

"He's shy," Jack said gruffly, patting Moira's hand again. He sounded more sure than he felt. But he knew his son, and if Cal was devoted enough to this man to live with him for the past two years then that was good enough for Jack. He couldn't say that he was happy with the fact that Rue had been avoiding them for those two years, but that was the man's prerogative. And he couldn't pretend to understand Rue Pierce's reasons; until he heard them, he would have to assume that they were legitimate.

"I know," Moira was replying absently, her eyes scanning the crowd of people disembarking. Not that they'd be able to miss seeing Cal, who stood at least half a head above most men and towered over everyone else. "I'm just... nervous."

"He'll love us," Jack assured her, unable to quell a wide grin. "And Cal loves him, so I'm sure that we'll love him too."

"Ah! There they are!" Loosing her husband's arm, Moira dashed forward, headed for the tall, unmistakable form of their son. "Cal! Cal, over here!"

Cal strode forward on long legs and met his mother part-way, catching her up in a one-armed hug as she threw herself against his chest. Riding on his other arm was a wide-eyed little imp who looked as much unlike Cal at six years of age as he looked exactly the same. Not that Jack could ever have mistaken Jayce for anything other than Cal's son.

"Hi, Grampa!" Jayce chirped cheerfully as Jack joined them, reaching to pluck his grandson away from Cal. "You're shorter than you look on the vid-phone!"

Definitely Cal's son. There was no awkwardness in the little arms that wrapped around his neck, and Jack held the boy close. Jayce was warm and he smelled the way Jack remembered Cal smelling, but with several differences that made him Jayce. He smelled clean and fresh and there was a hint of exotic spices that was so out of place that Jack wondered whether it was something the boy had picked up from Rue; after all, the man was a Wiccan by trade.

"You smell like dirt and peppermint," Jayce declared, pulling back a little and grinning at him. "It smells like outside!"

Jack grinned back, imprinting his grandson's face on his mind's eye. They had spoken on the vid-phone many times in the past, but it was always different seeing someone in person.

Jayce had plump cheeks over a sharp chin and delicate features that only just missed being pretty. His eyes were the same dark brown as his father's, sharp and bright with intelligence. He was, after Cal, the most adorable, gorgeous, beautiful child Jack had ever seen, and he didn't think that was prejudice speaking. Not that he saw many children, spending most of his time out on the farm, but Jayce was definitely something special, and Jack was confident that it wasn't just the proud grandfather in him making that observation.

"Hey, Jack, stop hogging up the grandchild!" Moira suddenly swooped in, snatching Jayce out of his arms.

"Gramma!" Jayce squealed happily, and Jack took his turn to give Cal a tight hug.

"We've missed you, son," he rumbled, slapping Cal's broad back and blinking back the faintest prickle of tears at the corners of his eyes. Jack wasn't an overly emotional man, but Cal had been gone for three years, and his last visit home hadn't been for longer than a couple of days. Cal was an adult now, with his own life to live, but to Jack he would always be the lanky youth with puppy eyes and occasional problems with coordination that he and Moira had raised from a cheerful bundle of babbling baby.

"Sorry, Dad," Cal offered, his own voice rough, his hand careful as he patted Jack's back in return. Cal had always been stronger than normal humans since they had adopted him, probably since birth, and so he'd always had to exercise control. Moira had researched children born with Nephilim blood, and according to all sources they mostly gained their powers around the time of puberty. But Cal had from the very first been strong, invincible, and Jack and Moira had taught him to always be conscious of this fact.

"Well?" Jack said, pulling away from Cal's embrace. He peered around Cal's bulk, his expression expectant.

"Oh. Mom, Dad, this is Rue Pierce," Cal introduced, swinging a large hand to indicate the silent man standing behind him.

"Hello, darling," Moira smiled, her arms full of grandchild. It didn't look as though she was going to be letting go of Jayce any time soon, but Jack doubted that anyone minded.

Jack wordlessly thrust out his hand, and pumped Rue's when the young man met the gesture automatically. His grip was firm, his fingers graceful but a little cool in Jack's warm grasp.

Rue Pierce looked younger in person than he had in his photos, was Jack's first thought. He was about the same height as Moira, short to Jack's six foot, even shorter compared to Cal. He was handsome, almost pretty, and yet entirely masculine. His hair was neatly trimmed, his clothing plain but stylish, and his broad shoulders hinted at a well developed physique. He was nothing like any of Cal's previous lovers, and for this Jack was glad. He'd always thought that if you dated someone who looked like a woman and acted like a woman, you might as well be with a woman. Cal had clearly disagreed, never having had the slightest interest in the opposite sex, not from the very beginning. But, at any rate, he was with Rue Pierce now, and Jack couldn't do anything but fully approve.

He recognized the fear straining the flesh around Rue's aqua-blue eyes, could see it in the bobbing of his adam's apple above the collar of his turtleneck, and he smiled as warmly as he could in compensation.

"Welcome," Jack said gruffly, keeping his smile and making sure it was sincere. He released Rue's hand the moment he felt it begin to withdraw, seeking to avoid doing anything that might make his son's partner uncomfortable. Evidently there had been reasons for Rue's silence through the past two years, and even if they were only in the man's mind, that didn't make them any less real.

Rue was smiling too, at Jack, but mostly at Moira, and although there was tension and anxiety behind the expression, he did seem to honestly mean it. He had a very sweet smile -- Moira had said it before, and Jack had to admit that it was true, especially when seen in the flesh.

"Thank you. It's ni-great to meet you both. And thank you for having me."

Jack could see Moira arching a brow out of the corner of his eye. "Well, you're family," he rumbled, as matter of factly as he felt.

Rue caught his lower lip between his teeth, but otherwise didn't respond.

"All right, let's go and get the luggage," Moira said, that ready smile that Jack loved so much lighting up her face. "We'll get this show on the road. If we get started now, we'll be home in time for dinner."

"Ooh! What's for dinner?" Cal asked eagerly, clasped his big hands together.

"Pretty much everything," Jack informed him with a warm chuckle. "Your mother was so thrilled that you were coming home that she prepared all your favorite meals!"

Cal and Jayce cheered at this, and Jack noted with a flicker of pleasure that he had inadvertently startled a small, real laugh out of Rue. They'd figure out a way to connect yet, he was certain of it.

Moira led the way, carrying Jayce, toward the garage. They would be stopping on their way out of the station to pick up the luggage at the unloading dock, and then they could be on their way. Jack paced along beside Cal, quietly glad to have his son home. It had been too long.

Rue Pierce walked on Cal's other side, the tightness of his shoulders giving away more of his anxiety than he probably would have been comfortable with had he known. Jack could see when Cal tried to take Rue's hand and when Rue jerked away as though he had been bitten. Cal only shrugged and continued on his way, not seeming surprised or put out. Jack could understand; same-sex couples were more common and accepted than they had been before the Rising, but they were in the mid-west. Cal was big and strong enough to quell any negative reactions with a mere glare, but that didn't mean that Rue wouldn't be hurt by such regard. Besides, as little as he knew of the man, Jack was fairly certain that Rue Pierce wasn't a person who encouraged public displays of affection.

They all piled into the truck, Jayce in the front between them, and the younger couple in the back. Once the luggage was strapped into the bed, they set out on their way. Into the afternoon sunlight and toward the farm. There would be dinner and coffee and dessert and conversation.

It had been too long, two years, but Jack and Moira were finally going to get to know Cal's little family.

***

The farm wasn't anything like Rue had imagined.

Never having been outside the Walls before, living in New York his entire life, Rue had built up some preconceived notions that he was now discovering were entirely incorrect.

Objectively, he had known that Cal's parents had a fine house and all the amenities. Their farm was protected; he never would have allowed Jayce to come here if that hadn't been the case. He'd already been well aware that Cal's parents had electricity, running water, a vid-phone....

But he hadn't really processed the information. To most of those living inside the Walls, the world outside was a wasteland, swarming with ravenous demons intent on rending, eating, despoiling. And in some areas this was the horrible truth. But some areas of the continent -- especially toward its middle and away from any major cities -- saw barely any demonic incursions. It was in one of these places that Jack and Moira had built and maintained their farm.

Fields of grain waved to either side of the road, ripe and undamaged. The sun was bright overhead, a few puffy white clouds dotting the horizon. Jack shed his plaid shortly after hitting the road, and Rue had to admit to himself that Cal had been right. He was glad that Jayce was wearing a light shirt and he wished to the goddess that he didn't have to wear this turtleneck. He'd had to cover the mark Cal had left on him the day before in the train restroom, though.

In the front of the truck Jayce chirped away with his grandparents, keeping them both completely occupied in conversation. Rue stared out the window most of the ride. He'd never seen such openness. Inside the Walls space was at a premium, with so many people forced to live in a limited area. There were parks and businesses with sprawling lawns in New York, but never had Rue been able to look across acres of land and only see more land. It was stunning and more than a little frightening for him. He felt so exposed out here.... Although, with so much empty air, they should be able to see an attack coming.

They reached the farm safely, even though Rue had found himself anticipating a demonic assault at any given moment. Actually.... Considering that he had spent much of the trip fending off Cal's hands, which wanted to paw at his thighs and crotch, or rub his back, he couldn't really say that he hadn't been the victim of something along those lines.

There was a heavy gate set in a thick wall, dancing with Power to Rue's Sight, and once they were through that, he breathed a silent sigh of relief. Even though their hosts and Cal had assured him that the drive to their farm would be safe, he was a city-bred boy and felt more comfortable when he could see the barrier between himself and the demons; even hypothetical demons.

"Here we are," Moira said cheerfully, turning to beam over the back of the seat at them. Rue shoved Cal's hand off of his leg, where it seemed to have settled without his realizing. "Home, sweet home."

"I'm starving," Cal complained, clutching at his stomach.

"We'll have dinner soon, sweetheart," Moira assured him, turning once more to the fore. Her gentle smile tugged at Rue in a way he'd never experienced before. He liked her, liked both of Cal's parents. He wanted them to like him. But he was scared. There was no reason for them to like him. He was an interloper. Someone who had adopted their grandson, and who hadn't gotten out of the way once Cal had found his child, but instead had stayed on, somehow ensnaring their son as well. Not that Rue had done this by choice -- he still couldn't quite figure out how or why Cal had decided he wanted him. But looking at it from Jack and Moira's perspective... how could he seem like anything other than an intruder?

After the gate had clanged shut behind them, it was still almost two minutes driving over a smoothly paved driveway before the house came into view. There were trees, rose bushes, overgrown lawns.... Everything was a little wild, a little disorganized, and yet Rue thought that he liked it. It was sure better than all the straight lines and neatly trimmed bushes inside New York's Walls.

The farmhouse itself was classic. Two stories, recently painted in a rusty color with black trim, a tall brick chimney, and a huge screened patio. There was a tremendous weeping willow visible around the corner, toward the back, and the garage was almost bigger than the house itself. Rue could see a toolshed between the two, and he began to think that living outside the Walls might not be all bad, after all. All this room to sprawl.... The farmhouse alone was larger than the home he shared with Cal and Jayce, including their three-car garage, and he had thought that their place was relatively roomy!

Jack pulled to a stop in the driveway, close to the front door. "Everybody out," he said cheerfully, then followed his own advice, swinging down and striding around to the back of the truck to grab some luggage. "Moira, you take the baby and go get dinner ready. Leave the menfolk to handle the luggage."

"I'm not a baby!" Jayce protested as Moira lifted him down out of the cab. He didn't sound put out; he was just letting them know. Rue could remember when Jayce had been four and had told Cal and Rue he didn't want to be called "baby" anymore -- a nickname Rue hadn't even really realized until then that he had been using.

"Aw, you'll always be a baby to your Gramma," Moira cooed, wrapping Jayce up in a big hug and kissing his forehead. Jayce squeaked and wriggled, but wasn't really displeased.

Rue smiled. Goddess, he loved that boy. This trip had caused him to feel doubt as to his place in Jayce's life, since Cal was Jayce's biological father... but he had been present for Jayce's birth, had adopted the boy when he had been one year old, and had been his only parent for the following three years. He might not be Jayce's father by blood, but if it came to that, Jack wasn't Cal's biological father. Did that make him any less Cal's father?

"Come on, Rue," Cal urged, a warm palm coming to rest on one shoulderblade and lingering there for a little longer than necessary. "You heard Dad. It's up to the menfolk to do the heavy lifting!"

Rue grimaced, but inside he was deeply pleased. Jack had to know that Rue took it from Cal in the ass on a regular basis -- since it sure as hell couldn't have gone the other way; might not even be possible, with Cal's demonic invulnerability -- and yet he was still afforded a male status in the farmer's eyes. That was more than he ever would have gotten from his own father....

Shrugging off this unhappy thought and Cal's hand, Rue moved to do as requested. He and Jack prudently left the heaviest cases to Cal, and they followed Moira and Jayce into the house.

The hall was wide and sunny, smelling of fresh air, cedar, and a hint of lemon cleaning solution. The floor was smooth, polished wood with several bright throw rugs, the walls cream-colored and dotted with small oil paintings and artistic clusters of dried flowers. Everything was neat and clean without looking in any way unnatural. Real people lived here, things were a bit worn, but it was lovely and clean, and Rue felt an automatically favorable reaction. This felt like a home.

Moira had already swept into the kitchen, but Jayce was on the hall floor, giggling and squirming underneath a large golden dog who seemed intent on licking away his face.

"Rascal," Jack chided, though he was grinning as he shook his head.

Rue bit back on a momentary surge of disapproval; that wasn't at all sanitary! And yet he knew that it couldn't possibly do Jayce any harm, the boy had too much of his father in him. And he couldn't stand the thought of being the parent who quashed Jayce's fun. He had to do that often enough for legitimate reasons -- at least Cal always backed him up when such exercises of authority were required -- he couldn't bring himself to do so now. Besides, it would have been rude to Jack, as the dog's owner, if he raised a fuss.

"Hey, Rascal!" Cal dumped the luggage he was carrying with a thud that shook the floorboards beneath Rue's feet, and surged forward. "C'mere, boy!" He knelt before Rue and Jack, holding out his arms.

With an inquiring whine and then a little yelp of recognition and joy, Rascal twisted and scampered toward Cal, a blur of dun-colored fur and wildly waving tail. Jayce pouted, but the dog was thrilled to see Cal, jumping up and slobbering all over him in the best canine greeting he was capable of. Cal laughed in delight, his large hands patting and petting and tousling floppy ears, giving back just as much affection as he was receiving.

"Jayce," Moira called, appearing again from the kitchen entrance down the hall. "Come and help Gramma with dinner. After you wash your hands and face."

Rue bit back a smile, glad to see that his son was in good hands. He could already smell some savory scents, meat and vegetables and bread, overwhelming the citrus fragrance in the hall, and he realized all of a sudden that he was hungry too. He hadn't been able to eat much at dinner the evening before, and hadn't had anything on the train before their arrival this morning, out of nerves.

Curious about the final newcomer, Rascal dragged his attention away from Cal. Rue stood still, hands tight around the handles of the luggage he still held, neither encouraging the dog nor trying to keep him away. He wasn't a pet person, never had been, but he held nothing against Rascal and wanted to make friends with even the four-legged members of this household.

Rascal, at least didn't jump up on Rue. He wuffled at his legs inquisitively, sniffing his thighs and, like the dog that he was, headed for the crotch. Rue shifted awkwardly, wanting to move away but stuck up against a small three-tiered shelf of knick-knacks. He thought at first that the growl he heard was his own, inside his head. But as Rascal backed off, shooting a cowed glance at Cal before scrabbling toward the kitchen, Rue realized where the sound had actually originated.

"What the hell was that?" he asked Cal, feeling as though he ought to be pissed off, but not quite sure why.

Cal got gracefully to his feet, his eyes fierce but his expression placid. "Nothing." He bent and picked up the luggage he had dropped.

Rue blinked. Cal seldom put him off; usually going into embarrassing detail when asked to explain strange behavior.

"Son." Jack sounded exasperated. Not disapproving. Not upset. Just the faintest bit irked. "You do know that Rascal is no threat to you. Right?"

"My mate," Cal growled, showing a flash of fang.

Rue stiffened. That was why he had felt that he ought to be pissed. "Dammit, Cal," he snapped, but then cut himself off before he said anything else. He couldn't chew Cal out in front of Jack; that just wasn't polite. It wasn't politic.

Instead, drawing a deep breath, he turned to their host and summoned up a smile. "Would you please show us to our rooms, Mr. Calloway?"

Jack's blue eyes were sharp, his expression not unsympathetic. He clucked his tongue though, giving his head a sharp shake. "Don't you call me that, young man," he instructed sternly. "I won't ask you to call me Dad, but I would prefer that you call me Jack. There ain't no 'misters' where family is concerned!"

Rue swallowed tightly, feeling as though his high collar was too tight. That was the second time Jack had called him 'family', and yet he couldn't... he couldn't.... He was an outsider here. Cal had dragged him along despite his misgivings, and as nice as Jack and Moira were being, they couldn't regard him as anything other than a distraction. This visit was about their son, Cal, and their grandson, Jayce. Rue had no place here, no matter Jack's kind words.

"Yes, sir," he responded softly, ducking his head and missing the glance that Jack tossed Cal. Cal shrugged faintly and shook his head, but his fine lips were pulled tight and there was a hard gleam in his dark eyes.

"Well, we've given Jayce Cal's old room," Jack was saying, leading them through an entryway to the right and stopping at the foot of a flight of stairs. "So we can leave his suitcase here."

"It's the navy one with silver stripes," Cal offered, using his chin to point at the bag Jack was holding. "And this one." He plopped down the heavy case that was filled with the things Rue had packed to entertain Jayce during the trip.

Jack nodded, divesting himself of the bag in question and then leading them to the other side of the parlor and into the living room. "Moira and I decided to put you two downstairs," he explained, using his free hand to open a sturdy white door at the back of the room.

"In the basement?!" Cal blurted. "Dad!"

Jack chuckled, flicking a switch at the top of the stairs. "We've had the rooms down there done since you were home last, son," he said, starting down the stairs carefully.

"But what about the guest room?" Cal asked, following his father. Rue hadn't any choice but to tag along, even though he was less than thrilled by the whole idea.

"That's your mother's art-slash-sewing room now," Jack replied mildly. "Full of teddy bears and ceramics."

"Huh." Cal sounded surprised. "Really?"

"Well, we're getting older." Jack led the way down a short hall. "We've hired people to help with the work, and that gives us a little more free time. So we've picked up a few hobbies."

"Hobbies?" Cal sounded so surprised. It almost amused Rue. "What do you do, Dad?"

"Oh, a little woodcarving. Tinkering with old cars. I'm better at the second."

Rue stepped past a doorway opening to what was clearly a utility room, then another that looked like a root cellar, lined with shelves holding cans and bottles. The walls of the hall were dry and smoothly plastered, the floor thickly carpeted in hunter green. It didn't look like a basement, and the room that Jack led them into was a perfectly respectable bedroom. Hell, it bore a fair resemblance to their room at home, aside from the lack of windows. The bed was smaller, but there was a dresser, a vanity, and another door to the right that looked as though it led to a bathroom.

"Hey, this is all right," Cal grunted, tossing down his bags carelessly. Rue winced and set his own on the floor more gently. "Wasn't this just a concrete storage area last time I was home?"

"It was," Jack confirmed, relieving himself of the luggage he had helped to transport down to this room. "Your mother insisted that I get rid of all the old papers down here."

"Ho?" Cal glanced over from where he was bent, thumping the mattress experimentally, an amused gleam in his dark eyes. "So where did you move them to?"

Jack attempted to summon up an outraged expression, but then his handsome face dissolved into a broad grin to answer Cal's, his blue eyes crinkling. "They're in the toolshed. But don't you tell your mother on me, young man!"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Cal answered equally, straightening.

Rue shifted where he was hovering uncomfortably near the door. He felt like an outsider, and there was a part of him -- the young, vulnerable, stunted son of his father -- that was confused by this easy give and take, the light-hearted joking. This was the way Jess and Ryan spoke, to one another and to himself and Cal... but was this the way that parents and children behaved? Well, maybe when the son was an adult....

"Shall we go and see if your mother needs any help setting the table?" Jack queried. "The food ought to be ready soon and you can unpack later."

"I'm sure Mom's recruited Jayce to set the table," Cal laughed. "But I can't wait to eat, so let's go!"

Rue skittered out the door, down the hall, and up the stairs ahead of the other two men. No way was he going to be trapped in that basement bedroom with Cal... before he had to be. And the scent of roast chicken and grilled peppers mingling with what had to be garlic bread would have been enough to tempt a saint.

Rascal was nosing at Jayce's luggage, which they had left at the base of the stairs, but once Rue entered the living room, he rolled his big brown eyes at the man and trotted away, toward the kitchen. Rue tried to decide whether he had been snubbed, or if the dog was just trying to avoid further conflict with Cal.

"Are those going to be all right there?" Rue turned to ask Jack, indicating the bags.

"Should be," Jack grunted. "Rascal ain't ever cut loose on anything in the house. He was probably just curious. Unless Cal's started up some kind of pissing contest." He shot his son a narrow glance.

Cal looked properly offended. "I was just warning him off, Dad," he protested.

Rue could feel himself flushing, and even though he had inadvertently started this conversation -- not that he could have known it would take this direction -- he turned and strode toward the kitchen.

If he didn't die of nerves or embarrassment during this visit, he thought, it would be a frigging miracle!

***

"Coffee, Rue?" Moira offered, turning from the counter and smiling at the young man as he returned to the kitchen from putting his son down for the night. "It's decaf."

"Yes, please," Rue answered politely, returning her smile, his own a little weak, but maybe he was just tired. It had been a long day, after all.

"I gotta admit, Mom," Cal spoke up from the kitchen table as he scooped a huge chunk of homemade cherry pie out of the pan and onto his plate. "This is one of the things I've missed the most about being here."

"Oh, I always knew you only loved me for my cooking, sweetheart," Moira said lovingly, pouring out a generous mug of coffee. "Cream, Rue?" At his shy nod, she made sure to leave enough room for him to add it, and fetched the pitcher from the refrigerator. "Here you go." She passed him the steaming mug and placed the cream on the table before him as he sat down.

"Thank you." Rue's smile was less strained, a little wider, and Moira resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. He might be five years older than her Cal, but he struck her more and more as a young man desperately in need of some mothering. She wanted to hug him close and tell him that he could relax, that everything was going to be fine.... But she knew that anything like this would only embarrass him all the more. Rue Pierce was nothing at all like her Cal, but she thought that she was beginning to understand why her son was so deeply in love with him.

Rue had mostly remained silent during dinner. Jayce had dominated the conversation, begging his grandparents for the details of what they did on the farm every day, what they were going to allow him to do, and what everyone's plans were for tomorrow. Cal had shoveled away the usual amount of food, content to let his son and parents talk with an occasional interjection of his own. Moira had been relieved to see that Rue ate a healthy amount as well, and even though she had wanted to drag him into the discussion, willing or no, she had recognized that during dinner had not been the optimal moment.

Now it was time for dessert and coffee, the imp had been sent to bed, and she wondered whether it was fair to ambush Rue when he was so clearly exhausted. They were, after all, going to be here for two weeks.

"Cal, I hope you're planning on dishing up a serving for Rue," she said, spearing her son with an eagle eye as he settled down with his fork poised over his huge helping of cherry pie.

"That's all right," Rue protested, at the same time Cal whined, "But Mom...!"

Moira sighed and shook her head. "Jack, honey, could you get some pie for Rue and me?" she requested sweetly. "And throw on some of that whipped cream that you're making."

"Whipped cream?!" Cal's mouth fell open. "I want whipped cream!"

"You should've done as I asked then," Moira chided him, grinning across the kitchen at Jack, who was at the counter by the sink, wielding the hand-mixer with skill and precision. Not one grain of sugar or fleck of heavy cream made its way out of the bowl. Jack grinned back, setting the beater aside and hefting the cream-dripping whisk beaters in salute, before dropping them in the sink.

"I'll get your pie," Cal hurried, rising to his feet. "And a piece for Rue! Dad, can you plop some of that whipped cream on mine for me, please?"

Jack chuckled, and at a small nod from Moira he spooned a generous dollop of the rich white stuff on top of Cal's chunk of pie.

"I'm really not hungry," Rue demurred, his eyes fixed on his coffee. He was stirring it with care, making sure that the spoon didn't touch the sides of the mug. Moira reached over, touching one tense shoulder for just a moment. She could feel the hard muscle jump under her hand.

"You shouldn't be hungry when you're eating dessert, sweetie," Moira informed him, smiling her thanks at Cal as he placed a slice of the pie in front of her. "That's the point of it. It's something nice to top off your meal."

"Sugar in your system just before you go to bed," Rue remarked dryly, but he was grinning at her as he said it, and the smile was honest, amused, his beautiful eyes gleaming with humor. "But how could I pass up home-baked pie?"

"Rue bakes," Cal commented, sliding his lover a smaller serving than he had given his mother, and then plopping down to attack his own pie. "But only sometimes."

"Speaking of sugar and bedtime," Jack inserted, doling out whipped cream, which Rue politely declined, "Did you have any trouble getting Jayce to bed?"

Rue grinned fondly, shaking his head and picking up his fork. "Not at all. He insisted he wasn't tired, but he was sound asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow."

Moira sipped her coffee, smiling in sympathy. Raising a child was a lot of work, but both Cal and Rue seemed up to the task. And from what she had seen ever since picking the three of them up from the train station, Jayce was already a fine boy, on his way to becoming a fine young man. She would never in a million years speak the words aloud, would never humiliate him this way when he already seemed so insecure, but Rue Pierce really seemed to have a strong mothering instinct. She could only approve of the fact that he was her grandson's other father.

"It was a long day for him," Jack chuckled, joining everyone at the table with his coffee and pie. "He may have been excited but he was also exhausted."

Rue was nodding, his expression gentle and warm. It was obvious that he loved Jayce as much as though the boy was his child by blood. Moira could relate; after all, that was how she felt about her Cal.

"Just expect him to be up all the earlier tomorrow morning," Cal warned unnecessarily, going back for a second helping of pie. "Mom, you've got to give Rue the recipe for this!"

"Gladly," Moira replied, reaching over and patting Rue's shoulder again. This time there was less tension. "Make sure I remember to do that before you leave."

"It's delicious," Rue informed her earnestly. He hadn't finished his piece, but his mug was empty. From the heaviness of his eyelids, Moira knew that it wasn't just Jayce who had had a long day.

"We're gonna head for bed now, Mom." Cal seemed to be reading her mind... or Rue's. He got to his feet, bending to give Moira a swift but warm kiss on the cheek, before hauling Rue up. "Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not, silly. It's almost past our bedtime too," Moira assured him. "Tomorrow we'll get off to a fresh start. We're just so thrilled to have all of you here, finally!"

"Good night, son," Jack rumbled from the other side of the table, raising his fork. "And make sure you get some sleep, because I'm going to work you hard tomorrow!"

"Aw, Dad, I'm supposed to be on vacation," Cal protested, but he was grinning as he gripped Rue's hand and dragged him toward the kitchen door.

"G-good night!" Rue managed to blurt out and then they were gone, down the hall and headed toward their bedroom.

Rascal whined outside the back door and Moira rose to let him in as Jack took the empty dessert dishes and coffee cups to the sink. The dog loved Jayce and was clearly thrilled at having Cal home again, but he had been giving Rue wide berth all evening. Jack had explained to her why and she felt equal parts amusement and exasperation toward her son.

She and Jack had tried to raise Cal with human values, and had done their best to teach him to share. But there was only so much they could do on a farm, outside the Walls, with no siblings to offer him. And it was times like this -- when Cal showed such primitive possessiveness toward the man that he considered to be his "mate" -- that they were forcibly reminded that he was not completely human, was in fact one-fourth Nephilim.

Demonic or not, Cal was their son. Moira just wished that Cal wasn't quite so jealous over things that he considered to be his. It would certainly make the remainder of their visit go a lot more smoothly.

"So you'll get Cal out of the way for me tomorrow?" Moira asked, locking the back door and turning to quirk an eyebrow at her husband.

"That was the plan," he confirmed.

"Great." Moira smiled, her eyes gleaming in a way that was just a little bit predatory as she shooed Jack ahead of her, up the stairs and toward their bedroom. With the two of them working as a team, Rue Pierce didn't stand a chance.

Tomorrow was going to be the day of tea and conversation. Moira had waited two years for this, and she wasn't going to let another day pass her by.

***

The door in the back of the bedroom did indeed lead to a bathroom, Rue discovered once they had retired. It was tiny but clean, everything in it gleaming new; a shower stall only large enough for one person, a toilet, and a sink with a mirror. Rue missed the large bathroom that he was used to at home, but the privacy went a long way toward making up for it.

Not in his wildest dreams did Rue imagine that Cal wouldn't be fucking him regularly in the coming two weeks, just because they were in his parents' home. Cal had asked about the guest room, but Rue was insanely relieved that they had been stuck down here in the basement, with Moira, Jack, and Jayce all in bedrooms two floors above them. He didn't think he would be able to bear it if any of the three could even possibly have heard them... and yet, after the week-long train ride, there wasn't a chance in blazes that he could tell Cal "no".

Hell, he considered it a flat-out miracle that he was able to brush his teeth and wash his face unmolested. He left the bathroom, beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with Cal, or if he had maybe misjudged him and being in his parents' home really had quelled his libido.

One glance at the rampant erection Cal was sporting where he sat on the edge of the bed dispelled that passing notion. At least Cal was wearing a pair of pajama bottoms.

Rue flushed, despite his familiarity with that particular body part, turning his face aside and heading for the open suitcase on the floor near the dresser. He was going to have to unpack, but not tonight. He was too tired. Besides, it wasn't as though Cal was likely to give him a chance to do, well, anything. Anything other than....

"Hey, Rue?"

"Yes?" He glanced over his shoulder after stripping off his shirt. Cal's brow was furrowed, his expression unusually pensive, despite the demanding hardness jutting at his crotch.

Cal was silent for a moment, looking unusually hesitant, then he rose to his feet and padded over. Rue winced, but Cal only placed his hands on Rue's shoulders. His palms were heavy but strangely gentle. He was close enough that his heat radiated over Rue's bared torso, a wash of warmth, but not so near that he was poking him with the erection that Rue was all too aware that he was sporting.

Rue looked up at him, confused and off balance. Something in him leaned toward that warmth, that controlled strength, looking for something familiar and comforting in this new place, in this stressful situation. And yet his body didn't move. He couldn't... couldn't give that much away....

"Rue, are you all right?" Cal asked, his voice rough but sincere. He peered down at the shorter man, his eyes dark, the crimson glow in the center of his pupils barely noticeable.

Whatever words he had been expecting Cal to speak, those weren't even close. Rue stared at the other man, only belatedly realizing that his mouth was hanging open.

Snapping it closed, he felt the wash of blood warming and darkening his cheeks. He couldn't have said why he felt so embarrassed, but maybe it had something to do with the way he always felt when Cal seemed to read his mind... or maybe it was just the humiliation of finding that Cal didn't think him capable of dealing with meeting his parents. Not that he didn't agree; he just didn't want anyone else to recognize that fact.

"I'm fine," he growled, trying to shrug away without success. He scowled at Cal's chin, unable to lift his gaze any higher, knowing that he looked petulant, but unable to relax his brow, his jaw, his tight mouth.

Cal sighed, the longsuffering sound making Rue want to hit him. But maybe it was just the tension in him driving his mind to thoughts of violence, because, really, he could only be thankful that Cal hadn't already tackled him into the mattress, wasn't already buried in him with minimal foreplay and prepping. Those two quick, fumbling encounters in the train restroom must have been just enough to take the edge off. Because in the past, whenever Cal was away for even two days, much less longer, he returned to Rue so hard and so ready and so horny that things like rug burn were the least Rue could expect. An entire week.... Maybe that restroom encounter the day before had saved Rue's life -- or at least his ass -- even though he had protested it vigorously enough at the time.

"I'm fine," he repeated firmly, with far more conviction than he felt. But he couldn't let Cal know how uncertain he really was, because Cal would take that as an affront to his parents and their hospitality. He would be fine because he had to be fine. For Jayce and for Cal and for his own self of self respect.

Suddenly, completely unexpectedly, Rue decided that he wanted sex. For all the time he spent convincing himself that he didn't want Cal to fuck him, for all the internal repetitions that he was not gay, didn't like taking it up the ass, that he wasn't a woman... he needed it now. It was something familiar, something he could grab onto, here in a place where everything was different. He couldn't seek comfort in Cal's embrace, but Cal would hold him while they fucked and after.... No need for Rue to show his weakness to his lover.

But he couldn't just ask for it. That would show another sort of weakness, and set a bad precedent. Fortunately for Rue, Cal already wanted it, and was only holding off out of concern for him. Concern and sympathy that Rue did not want, that made him feel even more vulnerable than being screwed into submission.

"Let go," he growled, twitching one shoulder under Cal's grip. He reached down, unzipping his fly. "I need to get ready for bed."

The flames in Cal's eyes flared and Rue was only a little surprised to find himself in the air, heels flailing, one hand grabbing at Cal's chest and shoulder in response to his abruptly disrupted balance. Cal carried him over to the bed, plopped him down on it, and before Rue could make more than an incoherent noise of irritation, had stripped off his jeans and underwear, leaving him naked on the colorful crocheted bedspread.

"Shit, Cal!" Rue snapped, propping himself on his elbows, and drawing his knees up instinctively. He wasn't going to be a complete hypocrite and pretend he didn't want this when he'd already admitted to himself that he did, but he didn't like being manhandled like this. Or... if his suddenly rousing cock gave lie to that notion, he at least had to put up a faint protestation, because he'd already learned in the past that being too eager, offering too much participation, caused Cal to become overly excited and usually led to property damage, personal injury, or any combination of the two.

"Rue," Cal said hoarsely, joining him on the bed, folding him up in powerful arms, his mouth seeking out Rue's. Rue felt a sudden burst of guilt and shame over misleading Cal, pretending that he didn't want this when he knew that he did, and so he wrapped his arms around Cal's neck, his lips pliable and parted beneath Cal's.

Cal thrust a hungry tongue into his mouth, humped a hot, weeping erection against his thigh, pulled him so closely that it hurt, his bulk pressing Rue into the mattress. He lay beneath it, letting Cal kiss him, strangely comforted by the crush of Cal's body over his. Here in the circle of Cal's arms, Cal's tongue tangling with his own, plundering the recesses of his mouth, Cal's hard-on pulsing eagerly against him... this was a place that he knew. He knew where he fit, and he also knew that once Cal was done fucking him into oblivion he would be able to sleep and sleep soundly, spooned against the larger man.

Rue caught up a handful of Cal's hair at the nape his neck, his fingers clenching. He didn't try to pull Cal away -- not that such attempts had ever done him any good in the past anyway. He just felt the need to hold onto something. And so he was surprised when Cal raised his head, breaking their kiss and gazing down at him with dark, serious eyes.

"What?" he growled, glaring up at the larger man, silently daring him to say anything further, to ask if he was all right again. He was so afraid that Cal would. There was only one answer that Rue could give, but it got harder to voice every time he said it; he wanted so badly to believe that it was true, and yet he was so certain that it was not.

Cal quirked a brow, an almost amusing expression when his mouth was ruddy from kissing, moist with their mingled saliva, his fine cheekbones darkened with an ardent flush. He licked his parted lips, looked as though he was going to say something after all, but the next moment he dipped his head, taking Rue's mouth in a kiss less forceful but no less passionate.

Rue arched into it, his grip on Cal's hair tightening. This was so much better than talking, than worrying, than trying to figure out what his place was in the Calloway home. This was where he needed to be.

Cal's tongue tracked the inside of his lower lip, followed by the delicate nip of sharp teeth. Rue squirmed underneath him, groaning. Cal was being much more restrained than Rue ever would have expected, especially after the week-long train ride with only two instances of sexual relief.

The moment that this thought touched him, Cal's hand slid down, gripping a hip hard enough to bruise and pulling him up into the downward thrust of his pelvis. Rue loosed a sound of protest into Cal's mouth, grasping at one broad shoulder with his free hand.

"Ah, Cal!" he moaned as Cal released his mouth again, lips and nipping teeth tracking along the line of his jaw, up to blow heated gusts of heavy breath in his ear. "D-dammit!" He wasn't fighting, though, just exasperated and tormented, and as ready for it as he had ever been in all their time together.

"I've wanted to touch you," Cal growled in his ear, following up the words with a swirl of his tongue around Rue's earlobe. "Wanted to touch you the entire time we were on that goddamned train."

"You were touching me," Rue snapped, arching his head back and to the side, writhing beneath Cal's breath-stealing weight. "You wouldn't stop touching me!"

"Not the way I wanted to," Cal informed him, his tone low and dangerous. "Not like this." And he palmed a handful of Rue's rear, fingers digging into the firm flesh with a force that would have made Rue try to escape, if Cal hadn't just sunk his teeth into the shell of his ear.

"Let go!" Rue gasped hoarsely, holding absolutely still, and trusting Cal to know what he meant. "Cal, please."

With a wet swipe of his tongue in what might have been meant as an apology, Cal moved away from the captured ear. Rue drew in a shaky breath, but before he could feel any real relief, Cal had moved a small way down his neck, and those straight teeth bracketed by short but distinctive fangs sank into the thin flesh over his racing pulse.

"Fuck!" Rue jolted under Cal, momentarily overwhelmed by the sting of painpleasurepain, his breath catching in the back of his throat, sensation choking him, filling him with sparks of desire. Cal was hurting him, hurting, and yet the stimulation shot straight to his crotch, and the erection he hadn't really been aware of suddenly sprang to attention, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

Never slackening the pressure on Rue's neck, Cal reared up a little, just enough to get his hands on Rue's chest. Rue writhed, whined, afraid to move too vigorously, but unable to just lie there and passively take it. Rough fingers brushed over his nipples, catching hold and lingering, tweaking, twisting, and he whimpered.

Without his internal permission, almost without his realizing, Rue's hands tracked along the wide line of Cal's shoulders, fingertips trailing over the smooth, warm surface. He never did understand how Cal's skin could be so soft and supple, and yet it could withstand gunfire, blades, shrapnel. It only felt like normal flesh over hard muscles, radiating heat, but in no other way extraordinary.

Cal's hands became rapidly more aggressive, pawing at more of Rue's torso, grabbing his ass, squeezing his thighs hard enough to bruise. Rue grumped, but this was more what he had been expecting, more what he was used to, and at least Cal had stopped with the biting.

Rue groaned, shivering as Cal swept his tongue over the bitten spot, turning his face into the pillow, his shoulders straining down into the mattress. He had leverage, but Cal was immovable above him, holding him down with the simple actuality of his weight; he wasn't even trying.

Cal nipped at Rue's neck, a lower point than his most recent marking, bit the arc of a collarbone, then latched onto an already abused nipple with more suction than teeth, for which Rue was thankful, even though he was squirming and whining beneath the erotic assault.

Cal's hands were wide and firm where they settled on his hips, clutching and cradling, and then pulling his pelvis up so that Rue's throbbing erection was rubbing against that rock-hard belly above him.

"Gods!" Rue gasped, his head falling back into the pillow, his fingers sinking into Cal's hair, clinging as though his grip would keep him from becoming lost in the pleasure. He jolted, leg muscles straining, rocking rhythmically underneath Cal, his breath already coming in small huffing sobs. If he was already this eager for it, how much worse must it be for Cal?

Not that either of them was used to going without sex anymore. It wasn't as though they ever got off without one other, and Cal wanted it at least once or twice a day; more if he could manage to ambush Rue. Rue liked to think that he didn't need it that often, wanted to consider Cal a sex-crazed maniac, but if he was this pent-up after the week's enforced celibacy -- and those two encounters in the restroom didn't really count by Cal's standards or his own -- then maybe Cal wasn't the only one to blame for their overly-healthy sex life.

Not that it wasn't normal for a man to have a strong sex drive. But Cal so often went beyond what Rue felt to be acceptable that it was easier just to resist his every advance. For all the good it ever did.

"Cal!" He lifted a leg, digging his heel into the dip of Cal's waist and kicking him as hard as he could, knowing that it wouldn't hurt. "C'mon! Just fuck me already!"

From the gleam in Cal's eye when he raised his head, Rue knew that he was going to regret saying that before the night was over. But it was too late, the words had already tumbled from his lips, and Cal was scrambling off of him, leaving him vibrating alone and aroused on the bed while he went hunting for the lube that they both knew that he had packed.

"Shit," Rue groaned, turning onto his side, drawing up his knees, and lifting one hand to gingerly touch the place Cal had bitten him. It was only an inch below his ear, and there was no way a turtleneck was going to cover that. "Goddamn it, Cal," he ground out, even as his other hand crept down between his thighs, fingers closing around his hard-on.

Then Cal was back on the bed, back on top of him, and there was a brief but violent tousle as Rue tried to roll onto his belly and Cal moved to manhandled him onto his back. Cal won. Rue opened his mouth to express his rage over this, and then left it open, loosing a strangled cry as Cal sank two well-lubricated fingers into him up the third knuckles. He wasn't too forceful, didn't hurt Rue, but there was too much desperation, too much urgency for gentleness.

Rue writhed beneath Cal as the larger man prepared him, two fingers swiftly followed by three, smoothing a generous amount of lube onto and into him, one shoulder crowding Rue's leg up so that he was opened to this invasion, his free arm a band across Rue's lower belly, his hand holding onto one bony hip, tight and heavy and entirely in charge.

"Are you ready for me?" Cal asked in a husky whisper, his teeth sinking into the quivering muscle of Rue's inner thigh, finger-fucking him mercilessly, catching Rue in the crux between the two intense sensations, one so pleasurable it was almost pain, the other a pain that was distinctly sexual.

"G-goddamn it..." Rue sobbed, fingers coiling in the material of the coverlet, momentarily distracted by the feeling of knobbly yarn under his hands rather than the cool cotton he was used to, but there wasn't anything that could shake him loose from the grip of libidinous fervor for very long. "Cal!"

Cal couldn't make him beg for it, he wouldn't try to make him beg for it, would he? Because there was no way that Rue would beg, no matter how badly he needed that thick cock splitting him, moving inside him, driving him toward the climax was the only thing in his life that mattered in this extended instant in time. He didn't beg, no matter how horny, no matter how close to the edge Cal had brought him, and he usually didn't have to, because Cal always took the initiative and fucked him first.

"I think you're ready," Cal purred, the deep dangerous growl of a larger predator rumbling in his chest, communicated into the tense muscle of Rue's thigh, which his mouth was still pressed against in a possessive way that was not at all similar to a kiss.

With one sharp nip that made Rue yelp, he grabbed the other thigh, shoving it up against Rue's body, while liberally anointing his huge, blood-flushed cock with more of the lube. Rue moaned, twisting as though he would roll onto his belly after all, even though Cal held his leg too tightly for escape, and then Cal pinned him down, punching inside in one long smooth stroke. No hesitation, and Rue howled, but it didn't really hurt, at least not much, and if it did it was good pain.

Their position was awkward and Rue was bowed up in a way that would have felt uncomfortable if he had been able to feel anything other than Cal's cock inside of him, filling him up, sending shards of intense sensation up his spine and radiating pleasure throughout his entire body.

Cal's thighs were under his flanks, supporting his pelvis, his hands strong where they gripped his shoulders, keeping him still on the mattress, pulling him down into each wallowing thrust. There was no lingering, no gentleness, no holding back, and Rue could only hold on, clinging to Cal's shoulders, as he was ridden hard and fast, and it didn't frighten him, it was what he truly wanted, and that was good, because it was what he was going to get regardless. It had been a long train trip, and two rushed restroom encounters had not really been enough for either of them.

Rue whined, trapped beneath Cal, unable to move except as the larger man directed, fingers scrabbling at the bunched muscles of Cal's upper back. Each time Cal rocked into his body, every time he withdrew, it sparked more liquid fire inside of him, filling all his veins, burning him from the inside out. Thoughts were driven away, emotions becoming his world, nothing but the unadulterated pleasure of this coupling flooding his system. This was what he had wanted, desired, this was where he needed to be.

Hanging suspended in the moment before climax, Cal's pulsing hips grinding him into the mattress, Rue shuddered in the unceasing stimulation, his legs still levered up, his arms twined tight, tighter, tightest around Cal's neck. Then Cal's teeth were a sharp starburst of violence as they sank into the flesh of his shoulder, and he jolted, convulsing involuntarily as his orgasm broke inside, over, and through him. He was pretty sure he yelled, that he had been loosing uncontrolled noises all through the time Cal had been fucking him, but the roar of rushing blood filling his ears, making him feel as though the top of his head would blow off, drowned out anything else.

He clenched up all around Cal, arms pulling throttlingly close, legs jerking as his muscles tensed, everything squeezing tight for an instant before he collapsed into a puddle of absolute satiation and utter exhaustion.

Cal grunted, his breath thick and laboring, before he too shouted, his grip on Rue bruising as he unfurled inside of him. Rue whimpered, not so much in pain but some sort of strange sharing of vulnerability, as Cal fell on top of him. His legs were still jacked up uncomfortably, and his shoulder stung. They were both coated in perspiration and gasping for breath, and the world was spinning around Rue but slowly becoming centered around their entwined bodies, stabilizing as they clung to one another and the thrilling roil of awakened passion ebbed.

Rue ran his fingers wearily through Cal's sweat-soaked hair, making an inarticulate sound of appreciation when Cal slipped out and rolled over, carefully pulling Rue's legs down into a more natural position.

Cal turned onto his side, tugging Rue up against his chest; facing him, not spooning, but that was all right for the moment. Rue let out a huge sigh and slung an arm over Cal's chest. Cal's hand ran over his back, large and soothing, and for a moment Rue allowed himself to feel as though everything would be all right. And maybe it would be. At least the Calloways were good people -- it wasn't as though he had been forced to visit his own parents.

Cal's mouth was heavy at his temple, gusting hot, moist breaths into the delicate skin. Rue doggedly ignored the faint tickling of seeping liquid he could feel below and behind... but there was a similar sensation at his shoulder, and he raised a languorous hand to check.

They hadn't turned any of the lights out yet, and so it was easy to see the traces of crimson streaked over his fingertips.

"Dammit, Cal," he growled, frowning but too tired to really get upset. "You broke skin!" Cal almost never did that, was usually careful not to, but every once in a while, in situations like this where he had been too restrained for too long or became over-stimulated, he let go that control.

"Sorry," Cal husked, kissing Rue's forehead in apology. One hand clasped Rue's rear, making him wonder just how sincere Cal was really being, but he let the matter slide.

"I need to shower now," he informed Cal, squirming a little in the circle of his arms. He didn't really want to, he desired nothing more than to just go to sleep, but he wasn't willing to wake up covered in dried semen. Yech. He didn't even want to think about how he was going to get the stuff out of the crocheted bedcover. He couldn't ask Moira....

"But we're not done yet," Cal rumbled, the sound as much a growl as a purr, his grip tightening on Rue's ass cheek. Rue became instantly aware of the hard-on that Cal had never really lost crowding up against his hip.

"What? Fuck! No!" he protested, trying to writhe away. There was no chance of that, though; Cal already had too good a grip on him. "Cal, I'm too tired to--"

"No, you're not," Cal informed him, rolling Rue back underneath him again, one hand groping for his cock between their bodies.

"Fuck!"

"Exactly....."

Rue snarled. "You asshole! That's not funny!" Cal sure seemed to think so, chuckling as he lowered his head to capture Rue's lips again.

Rue squirmed, he cursed, he did his best to escape, no longer so tired as he had thought he was. It was a vain effort, though. He was at Cal's mercy, and Cal was intent on going for a second time immediately following the first. Rue swore into Cal's insistent kisses. He'd known he was getting off too lightly earlier. And to think that he had ever considered the enforced celibacy of the train ride a good thing.

"Shit!"

***

Jayce was up before the sun; something that almost never happened when he didn't have school, but he was too excited about being at his grandparents' to remain in bed after awakening.

Rascal had spent the night curled up beside him, keeping Jayce from getting lonely. Not that he was young enough to be scared sleeping alone in a strange place, but it had still been comforting to have his furry new friend sharing his bed.

"Come on, boy," Jayce urged in a whisper, pushing the door open and peering out. Rascal wuffed and scampered past him, out into the unilluminated hallway and down the stairs. Jayce followed more slowly; he could see in the dark nearly as well as his Dad, but this was a strange house and he wasn't used to having stairs.

Rascal was whining at the back door in the kitchen, and after a moment's thought Jayce let him out. Rascal had been outside while they had been eating dinner the night before, so Jayce was pretty sure it would be all right; especially if it kept the dog from having an accident on the floor.

He briefly considered following Rascal -- he wanted to see the animals and he was almost certain that he had seen a treehouse in the branches of the oak near the barn -- but he was more interested in exploring the rest of the house. Especially since it was still dark outside, and the air had puffed in cold and scented with heavy dew when he had opened the door to let Rascal out. Jayce was wearing a pair of baggy jeans and his favorite black and silver Orion teeshirt, and he'd even taken the time to brush his hair before venturing out of his bedroom. His Daddy would have been proud.

The ground floor of the house was actually not very large. Set in sequence around the stairs, which were at the center, there was a parlor -- Jayce had never seen one before, but he recognized it because it had furniture but no television -- then the living room, then a large pantry, and the kitchen. The door down to the basement was in the living room. Upstairs were the three bedrooms and a bathroom. Jayce thought that this place was neat, nothing at all like their one-story house back in New York, but he would have liked more nooks and crannies. Well, maybe those were outside, in the barn and the toolshed and out in the fields.

Jayce wandered into the parlor, intrigued because he'd never seen one before. At home they had the living room and his Daddy's den, which doubled as an office for Cal on those rare occasions that he needed it. Here, the living room had a tattered sofa and a couple of cushy armchairs, a huge screen television, a surprisingly well stocked entertainment system, and more bookshelves than Jayce had seen anywhere that wasn't a library. The parlor was different.

Its furniture looked newer, less battered. There were fancy lamps and end tables and small knick-knacks. Rugs on the floor and doilies on the small sofa and straight-back chairs. There were a couple of glass-front cases filled with collectibles, and a lot of paintings and prints on the walls.

Jayce was momentarily fascinated to see that there was an entire section devoted to photos of himself and his two fathers. There were even baby pictures, which Rue must have given Cal to give to his grandparents. Beside these were pictures of his Dad as a baby and a young boy, and beyond those, pictures of Gramma and Grampa. Jayce was a little surprised to see that they had once been young too, even though he knew objectively that they had to have been. They looked so attractive in their wedding pictures that Jayce wished he could have been there, even though that was impossible -- even his Dad hadn't been born then.

"What are you doing standing here in the dark, baby?" Moira asked, descending the stairs and flicking on the light. Jayce started, feeling as though he had been caught being naughty; snooping. But his Gramma was smiling, her expression tender and kind.

"I can see all right in the dark," Jayce told her, smiling back and padding over. "I was looking at the pictures."

Moira held out her hand and he took it, and she led him out into the hall and toward the kitchen. "Well, that's all right," she let him know cheerfully. "As long as something isn't locked, you're free to look at it or play with it." Jayce had a feeling that the display shelves in the parlor were locked, but he didn't really want to play with the ceramics and other memorabilia in them anyway.

"I let Rascal out," Jayce said as they entered the kitchen, suddenly feeling anxious and wondering whether it had been the wrong thing to do after all. "Was that okay?"

"That's fine," his Gramma hastened to assure him, patting his shoulder and moving to start some coffee brewing. Jayce grinned at this familiar adult morning ritual. At home, at Jess and Ryan's, and now here at his grandparents', that was one of the first things that they did after arising. "Whoever gets up first usually lets him out. And you were up first."

"He slept with me last night!" Jayce informed her proudly, clambering to sit at the kitchen table.

"Well, he likes you," his Gramma said, smiling at him as the scent of fresh coffee began to fill up the kitchen. "He's missed your father since he's been gone, and I'm sure he's glad to have someone his size to play with now that you're here."

Jayce grinned broadly at this and then greeted Jack as he entered the room. "Good morning, Grampa!"

"G'morning, imp," Jack rumbled, his eyes crinkling when he smiled. His silver hair was rumpled but he was already dressed, wearing a stained but clean plaid over his jeans and teeshirt. "How'd you sleep?"

"Rascal slept with me!" Jayce repeated happily.

"Well, good for both of you," Jack chuckled, reaching to tousle Jayce's dark hair with a large, callused hand. "I was wondering why he wasn't snoring at the foot of our bed last night."

"Rascal didn't snore!" Jayce protested. Then he paused. "I don't think so anyway. Well, I was asleep."

Jack laughed again, pouring himself some coffee. Jayce breathed deeply. It smelled rich and bracing, like it did at home, but there was something different about it here. He liked the way it was the same but different.

"Are you hungry, baby?" Moira asked him, moving to the refrigerator.

Jayce nodded vigorously. He was starving, and even though it was earlier than he normally ate breakfast, he was more than ready to tuck in and get going. He'd a feeling that this was going to be an *awesome* day! He'd never been on a farm before.

Jack let Rascal back in, then joined Jayce at the table. Jayce let his Grampa sip his coffee in silence; he knew that it sometimes took grown-ups a while to wake up in the mornings.

"So what do you want to do today, Jayce?" Jack asked.

Moira puttered around, mixing batter and beginning to make pancakes, frying bacon, and cutting up some fresh berries. It was going to be a magnificent breakfast by the time she was done.

"What is there to do?" Jayce asked in response, bouncing where he was sitting crosslegged on the chair. "I wanna do everything! And I wanna help you run the farm, Grampa, like Dad used to do when he was little!"

Jack laughed, setting down his coffee mug, his eyes bright. "Sounds as though someone has been telling tales. Well, there's a lot of work that goes into running a farm, Jayce. We'll see what we can get you doing. I don't think that either of your fathers will be too happy if we start treating you like free help!"

Jayce giggled. "I wanna have fun too, Grampa. Go fishing and explore the barn and meet the animals and all the other stuff that Dad said that I could do. But I wanna make sure I earn my keep. Daddy always says that you have to do your chores before you get to play, even grown-ups. And Dad says that's exactly what happens on a farm. So that's what I'm going to do!"

He wasn't quite sure why his Grampa was looking at him with such a fierce glow of pride, but he was happy that he had caused that look, for whatever reason.

"That's a very mature attitude, baby," Moira said, leaning down to kiss Jayce atop his head. "Now, why don't you go and get your fathers. Breakfast is almost ready."

"Oh." Jayce's mouth and his eyes rounded at the very suggestion. "Oh, no. I don't ever go and get them out of bed. I'm not allowed, and even if I were, I wouldn't want to."

"Huh? But why--?" His Grampa cut himself off, and got that distant, glazed expression that Jayce knew meant that he had "gotten it".

"That's all right," his Gramma hastened to assure him, patting his shoulder. "We'll feed you your breakfast, and if they miss out and have to eat cold pancakes, that's their problem."

"They usually get up before I do," Jayce added, twisting to watch as Moira filled his plate with some of the most delicious food he had ever seen. "Or, at least, Daddy does."

"Well, that's good," said Jack gruffly, draining the last of his coffee. "They're... probably just worn out because of the trip."

Jayce would have enlightened his grandfather as to what it was that had *really* made his fathers too tired to get up this early, but his grandmother had just plopped that loaded plate down in front of him, along with a tall, frosty glass of fresh milk, and he was already salivating.

"Thank you!" he had time to tell her before he grabbed a fork and dove in.

After all, he was going to have a long, busy day, and his body needed fuel!

***

The sun was already up by the time Cal emerged from the basement. He hadn't meant to sleep in his first day back on the farm, but somehow, what with boning Rue three more times after the first and getting some rest in between, he'd managed to do so.

Of course, he'd also wasted a good five minutes trying to coax Rue out of bed.... Finally the heart-felt curses and the vehemence behind punches thrown had convinced him that his mate meant what he said when he refused to arise.

Rue was not only raw and exhausted after their four nearly consecutive couplings, but the spot on his shoulder where Cal had bitten him and broken the skin was sore. He was, to put it plainly, furious. Cal knew when he'd pushed too hard -- which he had -- and knew when to back off -- which he needed to do now. Rue probably wasn't going to stay angry, but right now he was severely pissed off, and Cal thought that he might actually be telling the truth when he said that he wouldn't be able to walk....

Cal felt really guilty for forcing himself on Rue to the point of hurting him -- he never meant to hurt Rue, never! -- but he hadn't been able to help it. An entire week on the train had gotten him so horny and pent up that he couldn't have stopped himself from banging Rue if he had tried.

He sighed heavily as he ascended the stairs, running a hand through his damp hair. He'd offered to help Rue take a shower, but Rue had only thrown a pillow at him, called him a name so nasty it might have impressed even Shemyahza, and then buried his face in another pillow. Cal hadn't had any choice but to have a quick shower alone, pull on his clothes, and depart. The sight of Rue still sprawled naked under the covers was a distinct turn-on, but Rue had already labeled him a rapist several times that night and Cal didn't want to prove his point.... Besides, he could sense, smell, feel that Rue was in pain, and he wasn't about to add to it. Especially not when it was his fault in the first place.

At least he'd made sure that Rue came every time. That he'd enjoyed it, at least while they were doing it. He was sorry that Rue was sore afterward, felt bad that he'd caused it, even though he hadn't meant to. Rue would feel better after a little uninterrupted sleep. Cal might be cut off for a day or maybe even two, but he could deal with that. He probably deserved it.

Scratch that. He really did deserve it. But, dammit all, Rue was too hot to keep his hands off of!

Which was exactly what Cal was going to have to do until Rue indicated by his body language and scent that, while Cal might not be forgiven, he could at least approach his mate without having his head bitten off. They were, after all, going to be sharing the bed, unless Rue made Cal sleep on the sofa upstairs. But even Rue wasn't usually that harsh.

Being cut off usually made Cal feel frustrated and cranky, but he was back in the place he had grown up, with his mother cooking a delicious breakfast that he could smell as he headed for the kitchen, and he looked forward to going out with his father and his son after eating it, to reacquaint himself with the wide world outside the New York Walls. So it was really hard to be in a bad mood.

He smelled coffee, pancakes, syrup, bacon, and as he got closer to the kitchen, he caught the tang of freshly cut fruit. His stomach rumbled -- his mother had fed him well last night, but he'd expended a lot of energy fucking Rue into the mattress. Maybe after he ate he ought to take a tray down to his mate... but he was more than half afraid that Rue would throw that at him too. Not that it would hurt, but he'd have to clean up the mess, and that wasn't how he wanted to start his morning.

He just hoped that his mother wouldn't want to take Rue any food. The basement room had no windows and while the ventilation system was adequate, Cal knew that the place smelled of men and sex now. And that was something his mother didn't need to experience -- not to mention, it would embarrass the hell out of Rue if he were to realize.

"Good morning, Cal," his mother greeted him cheerfully as he entered the kitchen. She was seated in the dining nook, which was now a small office, and there was no one else in the kitchen.

"Where's Dad and Jayce?" Cal asked, looking around while he made a beeline for the coffee maker. "Am I late for breakfast?"

"Yes," Moira answered pleasantly, turning away from the computer and rising. "But I've kept your food in the warmer. Will Rue be...?"

Cal coughed, feeling a touch of heat in his cheeks. He never blushed, didn't normally blush, but somehow his mother managed to make him feel like a little boy again, with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "Umm...." He stalled, pouring himself some coffee, while Moira bustled about behind him, taking plates out of the warmer and carrying them to the table. "Actually, I'm not sure when Rue's going to be coming up. He's a little so-- tired! He's tired, I meant to say!"

Moira put down the platter of pancakes she had been transporting and turned to give Cal that look he had dreaded -- the one that let him know that she was disappointed in him. "Oh, Cal."

Cal blushed more hotly, burying his nose in his coffee mug. "Well....."

"Cal," she said again, and Cal knew that he wasn't going to get a lecture, because they both knew that her tone of voice said it all, and that was actually worse. He squirmed where he stood, looking anywhere but at his mother.

"Those pancakes smell great," he ventured sheepishly, sidling toward the table, still not meeting Moira's gaze where she stood, her arms folded.

Finally she heaved a gusty sigh and strode back over to the warmer for the bacon. "They're not fresh; I fed your father and Jayce almost an hour ago. But it should all still taste fine."

"I'm sure everything will be delicious!" Cal enthused, flopping down and grabbing the bottle of maple syrup that was before him. "But you don't need to, uh, worry about taking anything down to Rue, because he's probably still, erm, asleep!"

Moira made a clucking sound as she put the bacon down and went to the fridge for the fruit. "I'll make that poor boy a freshly cooked plate when he finally emerges," she said briskly, somehow making it sound like more of Cal's punishment.

"Even if it's not until lunch time?" Cal asked, his mouth already full.

"Especially then." Moira's voice was tart. "Honestly, Cal, his first full day here, and--"

"I know, I know!" Cal interrupted, not wanting to get into a discussion of his sex life with his mother. Not that he was overly squeamish, but it was really early yet, and she was currently predisposed to take Rue's side. Well, not that right now he could blame her. It sounded pretty bad....

"Your father took Jayce out to the barn to help feel the animals," Moira informed him, blessedly changing the subject. She set up the coffee maker to brew a fresh pot and hit the power button. "You are going to take a thermos of this down to your husband after it's done, leave him a note, and then you can go and join them. I'll make sure to take care of Rue."

"You know, we're not technically married," Cal said, helping himself to the rest of the pancakes; it wasn't as though anyone else was going to eat them. He wondered if things would be easier if they had been. Married, that was. But then, Rue was so wildly resistant to the idea of being Cal's mate, that Cal didn't even like to consider how Rue would react if he asked.... Uh, no. Most things in their relationship worked more smoothly if they were never mentioned aloud. Rue accepted things more easily if he wasn't forced to confront them. Cal was aware that this wasn't healthy for either of them, but he hated it so much whenever Rue got upset that he was willing to do whatever it took to keep his mate comfortable.

"You've been together for over a year -- two years now -- and have a child together," Moira said, coming over and wrapping her arms around Cal's shoulders in a warm, gentle hug. "That's more than enough to constitute a common-law marriage. Your father and I didn't actually get our marriage papers until you were four years old, sweetheart. But we were married the day we decided we couldn't live without each other."

"I know." Cal smiled at his mother. He'd heard the story before, and it never failed to make him feel good for his parents and for himself. But.... "But Rue isn't like that, Mom. For him everything is difficult, and even the things that aren't, he somehow manages to make difficult."

Moira pressed a kiss to Cal's temple and straightened. "I thought so." Cal had never really discussed Rue and his hang-ups with his mother, feeling that they were Rue's business, and knowing how much his mate valued his privacy. But somehow it was different when he was here, in the kitchen with Moira. Being here, where he had grown up, with the woman who had raised him, made him feel instinctively as though mother could make everything all better. And even if she couldn't, his instincts told him that she could help. He knew that she would want to.

"He doesn't mean to be so...." Cal frowned, searching for the right word, then giving up. "You know, most of the time he's a great guy. Wonderful. Perfect. He... he just has trouble with...."

Moira patted Cal's shoulder, her expression thoughtful. "Don't worry, Cal. I think I understand, and I can guess at what I don't know. I won't call Rue your husband in front of him." She grinned at him.

"At least you're not tempted to say 'wife', like our friend Ryan," Cal chortled, amused by the memory even though Rue had been so very furious. "He got himself a punch in the nose for that."

"And he deserved it," Moira said briskly, though she was clearly fighting laughter herself.

Cal nodded. "That's what Ryan's partner, Jess, said. Ryan speaks without thinking a lot. Even more than me," he added judiciously.

The coffee maker beeped, and Moira went to fill a thermos, chuckling and shaking her head. "Eat up, sweetheart. Then you jot a note to Rue apologizing, and telling him he can come up whenever he feels like it, no hurry, and that you're going to be out with your father and Jayce all day."

"Yes ma'am," Cal said meekly, finishing off his own coffee, then gulped down the last of his breakfast. He accepted the pad and pen that Moira thrust at him and wrote out the note much as she had directed.

"Maybe Rue would consider a handfasting someday," Moira said, stirring cream into the thermos and then screwing the cap on tightly. "He is Wiccan, after all."

"Maybe," Cal said, gingerly handling his note and the thermos. He preferred not to think about such things, because he knew that no matter how optimistic he felt, that it would in all likelihood be years before Rue got to that point. Right now Rue didn't even feel as though he was part of the family, and Cal knew that it was something that Rue felt was lacking in himself, rather than anything Cal or his parents were missing. It was more than a little frustrating, because Cal thought that he went out of his way to let Rue know how he felt about him....

But there was only so much he could say without risking driving Rue away. Maybe his mother could do something or say something. He'd have to make the time to have a long, private conversation with her before he left. Because if anyone could help him to make things right between himself and Rue, it was Moira.

"We'll talk later, sweetheart," Moira said, giving Cal a little hug before shooing him toward the living room and the basement door. And he could be sure that she would help to make things better, because she had read his mind.

***

Rue fell sound asleep as soon as he was certain Cal had gone upstairs, and he was insensate for a good three hours. Until, half drowsing, waking from strange surreal dreams, he tried to roll over, and every ache flared to life.

"Shit," he groaned, levering himself into a sitting position. This movement pulled at the scabbed-over bite on his shoulder, and he hissed, tears springing to the corners of his eyes, then loosed a string of curses that would under normal circumstances have left him feeling ashamed of himself.

As it was, he reserved his negative emotion for Cal. That bastard!

Sliding out of bed, he staggered to the bathroom. He had suspected for some time now that his Powers helped him to heal up slightly more swiftly than normal, which was a good thing, considering that Cal was his steady lover. He was pretty sure that it wasn't just his imagination, especially since he was feeling almost human again after a long, hot shower. It tugged at his sore shoulder when he reached up to shampoo his hair, and he cursed Cal all over again, but by the time he was dry and dressed and noticed the thermos on the bedside table, he thought that he might just live.

He read the note, blinking. He must have been really out of it, not to have wakened when Cal had brought this down. At least, the note was from Cal, and he sincerely hoped that it hadn't been Moira who had delivered it. The coffee was still hot and helped immensely. The note was heartfelt, and if Rue hadn't suspected that Moira had pushed Cal to writing it, he might actually have forgiven the other man.

Of course, it might have made him more inclined to forgiveness if his shoulder hadn't ached so badly, and if he wasn't hyper-aware of the huge hickey right below his ear, where no shirt that he owned could even begin to cover.

Goddess, it was going to be embarrassing, showing up before Moira with that bruise marring the flesh of his neck. But it was already a quarter to eleven, and he'd slept away far more of the day than he had intended; even considering that he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before.

Wearing a pair of loose jeans and a long-sleeve, rust colored button-up shirt open over a black teeshirt, Rue grabbed the empty thermos and made his way up the stairs. He was only a little sore now, was able to go up the steps without hurting, and he almost felt ready to face the day.

Almost.

"There you are!" Moira's gentle smile and the warmth of these words removed any sting they might have held, and while Rue flushed, it was only his own reaction. "I hope you're rested up, dearheart. Because if you're just rousing yourself because you feel you should, you can just march yourself right back down to bed!"

Rue shook his head, smiling. He had been nervous coming up the stairs and entering the kitchen, without Cal to use as an oversized shield, as his familiar touchstone, but Moira's warmth and clear affection went a long way toward making him feel right at home.

"I'm fine," he said, crossing to where she was standing before the sink and holding out the thermos. "Thank you for this."

Moira took it and waved a hand toward the table. "I knew you'd need a little something to get yourself started," she said as Rue gingerly seated himself. "So I sent Cal down with some coffee. You read the note?"

Rue nodded. "I... yes. I hope that your husband wasn't needing me to come along with them...."

"Oh, no," Moira bustled around the kitchen, collecting breakfast ingredients with a swiftness and skill that Rue couldn't help envying, even though he'd never thought of himself as being the sort to *want* to cook. "Don't worry your head about that, dearheart. Jack's just keeping Jayce busy; giving him a taste of farm-life. They're out having fun. We have all the help we need in getting chores done; we don't need to enlist our guests. Unless they're eager, like your son."

Rue felt comforted, and Moira's warm, brisk conversational tone went a long way toward setting his mind at ease. And the fact that she was clearly cooking him breakfast made him feel better about his rumbling stomach, even though he didn't want her to be putting herself out solely for his sake.

"I'm sorry you have to cook two meals," he offered weakly, shifting where he sat. At least the chairs in the Calloway kitchen were cushioned.

"Tush!" Moira expressed in a dismissive manner. "Don't you fret about that either, Rue. I don't mind in the slightest! Especially since it was my son's fault that you couldn't make it to the first breakfast I made."

Rue flushed a brilliant crimson, but fortunately Moira's back was turned as she plied her spatula at the stove top.

"Did Jayce sleep well?" he asked once he felt as though he could speak through the embarrassment choking him. His son, Moira's grandson, was a safe topic, a neutral subject, something far removed from his sex-life with Cal. "He didn't wake you too early, did he?"

"Oh, no, not at all," Moira assured him, turning and flashing him a quick smile. She must have been a stunning beauty in her youth, and she and Jack were both still quite attractive; after all, they were only in their mid-fifties, which wasn't to be considered old by any standards. "He got up a little before we did and was very quiet and didn't get into any trouble."

Rue felt a touch of relief at hearing this, even though he had a lot of faith in his son. Still, Jayce was so excited about being here that he had worried a little. Sometimes, when he was overstimulated, Jayce tended to forget his manners and reverted to being Cal's son.

"I haven't had a chance yet to thank you," Moira said, placing a plate loaded with more food than Rue thought he could eat in front of him. She rested a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing in a friendly manner for a moment before letting go. Rue sent thanks to all the gods above that it hadn't been the shoulder Cal had bitten; otherwise he might have hit the ceiling. And that would have been both impolite and embarrassing.

"Thank me for what?" Rue asked, confused and still a little nervous at finding himself alone with one of Cal's parents. Not that he thought Moira was likely to bite his head off, but he *had* been avoiding her for two years now....

"Oh, for everything," Moira clarified, moving to fill a shiny silver kettle with a black handle at the sink and placing it on the stove top. She waved a hand, admonishing. "Eat, Rue. You have to be hungry."

He was, and the food smelled delicious. He set to as Moira seated herself across the table from him, a gentle smile curving her lips.

"I wanted to thank you for raising Jayce after his mother died. For being willing to share him with Cal."

"Cal is his father, though," Rue was startled into saying, blinking at Moira.

"You'd legally adopted my grandson and had raised him for four years," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not certain, but I think that the law would have been on your side if...."

"I would never have tried to keep Jayce's real father away from him!" Rue protested, upset but not hurt by this thread of the conversation.

Moira tipped her head to one side, her smile not faltering, her eyes warm and soft. "I know you wouldn't have, dearheart. Others, however, in your situation might not have been so generous."

"Hmph." Rue turned his attention back to his late breakfast. It was as good as it smelled, and he was starving. Even though he hadn't been participating at all by the third time he and Cal had fucked, much less the fourth time, it had taken its toll. He'd gotten his fill of sleep; now he had to replenish his body.

"Well, it's a tribute to your nature," Moira said, as Rue continued eating, "That you feel it's a given thing."

At this point the kettle began whistling, something that would have startled Rue if he wasn't used to the one that Cal liked to use sometimes at home. Now maybe he thought he understood why, even though the microwave would have accomplished the same task in a fraction of the time; because it reminded Cal of his mother. Rue wondered what it might be like to have fond memories of one's parents.... But it was easier not to miss things that one didn't have, had never had. He did have the sneaking suspicion that Moira was already building some pleasant memories for him, was doing so at this very instant. It was already a bittersweet thought that he would miss her once he was on his way home at the end of their visit.

"I'm going to make us some tea," Moira informed him, rising easily to her feet and crossing to the stovetop. "And we'll settle in for a nice long chat."

Rue felt every muscle contract, but he gamely finished his last couple of bites and resigned himself to the coming inquisition. It was only his own fault, after all, that Moira felt the need to do something like this. If he hadn't avoided her on the phone these past couple of years.... But looking back on it, he still couldn't see that he had any choice.

The most surprising thing about this visit so far, he thought, was the fact that Cal's parents seemed to already consider him to be a member of the family. He'd expected them to be.... Well, he certainly hadn't expected to be welcomed with open arms, but that was just what had happened. And he was reeling, trying to figure out how to deal with this state of affairs. He couldn't see the situation through Jack and Moira's eyes, and so he didn't know how to react to anything.

"I dried and mixed this tea myself," Moira informed him as a fresh, bright, tangy scent flooded the kitchen, making him feel more calm just from the smell of it. "With mint leaves from my herb garden. Jack swears it'll stop a cold before it begins."

Rue smiled in spite of his natural anxiety. He was really growing to like both of Cal's parents, and he was only desperately afraid that he was going to do or say something to blow it with them, causing them to hate him. "I almost agree with him just from the aroma," he replied, then he couldn't help but grin. "You know, Cal and Jayce have never been ill, in all the time I've known them," he commented, tilting his head.

Moira nodded, grabbing Rue's empty plate while the tea steeped and carrying it to the sink. "It's the demon blood," she said cheerfully. "I did a lot of research on the Web when we brought Cal home. Of course, he's never been typical, and I was learning new things about him almost daily while he was growing up."

Rue blinked. He hadn't expected to find such a firm connection with Cal's mother so quickly, though it probably shouldn't have surprised him so much. "I did.... I did much the same thing," he said slowly, sitting forward and lacing him hands on the tabletop, wincing a little as this tugged at his bitten shoulder. It was so hard to imagine Cal being little and cute, when it was the man's fault that he was in pain right now, but just as he was privy to facets of the man that Moira would never know, so she had seen a side of Cal that Rue could never share.

Moira brought him over a large, steaming mug, and Rue managed to prevent himself from sipping at it right away, even though the strong mint scent was sinfully tempting. He didn't want to burn his mouth, however, and he had the sneaking suspicion that Moira was settling them both down for the long haul and so there was no need to hurry.

"Jayce had his mother for the first year of his life, of course," Rue offered as Moira sat down with her own cup of tea. "Trish knew that he had demon blood, but she didn't seem to think that he was any different from a human baby. Well, and for the first year, I suppose that he wasn't."

"You met them during that time?" Moira queried delicately, obviously curious, but seeming unwilling to tread on dangerous ground.

Rue shook his head. "I met Trish shortly after she got pregnant, actually," he clarified. "And I was there when Jayce was born -- I was actually the first to hold him after the midwife who delivered him."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Moira exclaimed, her eyes shining. "You really are his father, then, as much as Cal is!"

Rue grimaced. "Well, technically I was his godfather at first," he said, sipping his tea and finding it to be even better than the enticing scent had promised. "This is wonderful!"

"Thank you." Moira smiled. "I like it on the strong side; so do Jack and Cal. I hope that you don't mind."

"Not at all," Rue assured her. "I prefer it that way."

"So you were Jayce's godfather," Moira pursued, returning to their line of conversation. "That was why there was no trouble with you adopting him."

"After Trish died," Rue confirmed, still feeling that twinge of pain that saying those words brought to him. He'd loved Trish Whelan as much as he'd ever loved a woman, even though she had never returned the feelings. In fact, like most women, she had placed him firmly in the "friend zone", as Ryan had put it. But he'd still been devoted and had resolved to be as good a friend as she could ever wish. "I was taking care of Jayce quite a bit before that, though, because Trish had to travel a lot. So that was part of the reason I looked into what to expect from children with part Nephilim ancestry."

Moira was nodding. "They do tend to be different than humans," she said, stirring a dollop of honey into her tea. "In a lot of ways they're easier than regular babies, I suppose, since they never get ill and rarely hurt themselves. But in other ways...."

Rue nodded. "They have to be trained to control their strength," he supplied. "I'm sure that was an issue with Cal. Jayce is a lot like a human in that regard, I think. I'm expecting he'll come to power as he gets closer to puberty, like most part-bloods seem to do. But Cal tells me that he's always been as strong and invulnerable as he is now."

Moira sighed heavily. "You've no idea," she said in a longsuffering way that made Rue chuckle. "And how do you punish someone who can shrug off the blow of a shovel, much less a simple spanking?"

Rue quirked a brow. "There's a story there, I think."

Moira grimaced. "Not so much. I'm sure you're aware of Cal's abilities."

Rue's mouth twisted in turn. "Very much so," he said, hoping he didn't sound as bitter as he felt.

"Actually," Moira said, sounding thoughtful. "It was usually enough for me to scold Cal. He's always hated upsetting his mother."

Rue nodded. "Jayce is remarkably mature for his age; always has been. Though he does tend to mind Cal better than he does me." He scowled, though he wasn't really upset about it. It was just a matter of fact. Jayce had known him longer and probably took him more for granted due to that fact.

"And then there's the ways in which Nephilim morals differ from human morals," Moira mused, her gaze distant. "We were always being surprised by the way Cal would approach certain things; his thought process was nothing like what Jack and I considered to be 'normal'."

"I'd say he hasn't changed at all, then," Rue said dryly, before he could stop himself. Not wanting to be caught out criticizing Moira's son, he hastened on. "By all accounts, Nephilim don't have anything like a conscience, to use one term for it. So it's really only to be expected."

"How does Jayce do in that regard?" Moira asked, sounding curious. "I've talked to him and spoken to Cal about him, but I can't tell from either of them."

"Jayce does well," Rue replied immediately, wanting to set Moira's mind at rest on the subject. "Cal and I both think he's slightly empathetic, which is bound to help. We've never had him tested, but we will someday, when he's older."

Moira smiled brightly. "That's good to hear. I'm sure it's also a tribute to how well you've raised him, Rue. No one can underestimate a parents' influence."

Rue felt a warm flush of pleasure, that Moira had so much faith in his parenting skills even though she barely knew him. It was unearned and undeserved, but he wasn't going to reject it.

"For any ways that Cal has behaved poorly through the years," Moira was saying hesitantly, wrapping her tea mug up in both hands and gazing down into it. "I'd like to apologize and assure you that I raised him as best I could."

"Of course," Rue replied before he thought. "I never attributed any of Cal's more brutish traits to anything other than his demonic ancestry." He caught himself, blinked, and rushed on in horror. "Uh, I mean.... Not that there's ever been anything wrong with Cal's behavior! I mean-- Oh, shit."

Moira was meeting his eye now, her expression sympathetic, more so than he was comfortable with. She reached across the table and placed a hand over his, her fingers warm and more callused than his own. "That's all right, Rue. I understand. It's what I was afraid of. I did my best to raise him to conform to human standards even when he didn't understand them, but there were so many situations that I couldn't anticipate or duplicate, and he does tend to follow his instincts more than I would like...."

"It's fine," Rue said, drawing his hand out of range more quickly than politeness would really allow for, but he was uneasy with the touching. He was suddenly hyper-aware of the hickey on his neck, which he hadn't thought of since he had ascended the stairs and entered the kitchen, and he blushed a miserable brick-red, turning his head away. "Really. Cal.... Cal does his best...."

"Rue." Moira sounded stern and kind at once; reminding him more than a little of Jess. "You don't have to explain. I know my son. I may not know him in the ways that you do, and that is none of my business, nor do I want to know, but I know that he's not always as... erm, considerate as he should be." Her brow creased and she shifted, as though she was ill at ease with the subject, even though she had been the one to bring the matter up. "Here, let me refresh your tea," she offered, rising and taking his empty mug.

Rue fought the fire in his cheeks, trying to take his mind off of the mark on his neck, trying to forget about the way that Cal had taken him multiple times the night before whether he would or no. He was sitting in the Calloway kitchen with Moira, for the goddess' sake, and she was *not* talking about his sex life with Cal -- he refused to believe that this was what she meant!

"It's all right, really," he said slowly, chewing on his lower lip, his gaze wandering to the sunlight that licked at the glass of the window above the sink while Moira filled their mugs all over again. "I would never think to lay the blame for Cal's occasionally less than ideal behavior at your feet.... Cal is Cal, and it takes a hell of a lot to get him to realize something that doesn't apply to him sometimes."

"I know exactly what you mean," Moira said fervently, setting down Rue's tea. "Like all the times he forgot to warn his father or me that he was using scalding water to do the dishes. He couldn't be hurt by the heat, and so--"

"He's done that to me too!" Rue exclaimed forcefully. "Doesn't that drive you nuts?!" He was grateful to be leaving behind the spectre of sex, ready to move the conversation into safer waters. Not that he felt that any line of discussion was really going to be safe; not when he was talking to Cal's mother.

"So you understand," Moira clucked, shaking her head. "I've done my best, and Cal always means well -- except on those rare occasions where he gets a selfish, stubborn streak -- but there are just some things that he doesn't relate to in a human way." She sipped carefully at her tea. "So you say that Jayce doesn't share this trait with his father?"

"Not at all," Rue replied, clasping his hands around his mug much like Moira had done and praying that things would not approach the subject of sex again this morning. "Like all children, Jayce can have his moments, but overall he's thoughtful, careful, and he listens well."

He realized a moment too late that it sounded as though he was naming off these traits as being the opposite of Cal's. Hopefully Moira wouldn't take it that way, since that wasn't what Rue had meant, not really. When it didn't involve sex, Cal was just as sweet and thoughtful as their son was. It was only Rue who really got to see the more instinctive, animalistic side of Cal -- in the bedroom -- and that was something that he would never share with the man's mother. Hell, he only told Jess half of what went on between the two of them, and she was his closest friend!

"I'm sure that Jayce has taken the best of both of his fathers," Moira said smoothly, smiling sweetly across the table at Rue. He ducked his head, but then smiled hesitantly back.

It made him feel good when Moira complimented him in this way. Because of all people, she understood that even though Jayce was not his biologically, the boy really was his son -- the same way Cal was her son. He was still anxious and uncertain of his place in this household, but one thing he could never think, and that was that Jack or Moira might consider him to be less Jayce's father than Cal was. Because they had been in the same situation when they had brought home a tiny part-demon baby boy twenty-three years ago.

Speaking of which... there was something that Rue was curious about, and he had never been able to wring the truth out of Cal. Maybe now he could ask Moira, and solve the mystery.

"So, Moira." He tried to work it in easily, casually, as though he had every right to ask and to expect a prompt answer. Well, and why shouldn't he, if he really was Cal's ma-- lover? "What *is* Cal's real name? Because I know you can't possibly have named him Cal Calloway!"

"Oh." Moira's mouth rounded in a way that reminded him more than a little of Jess. She averted her eyes, seeming uneasy. "Well, Rue, I really do feel that... well, it's probably not my place to tell you if Cal hasn't...."

"Damn," Rue grumbled, though the expletive was aimed at Cal, not at the man's mother. "He won't tell me!"

"I'm sorry, dearheart," Moira said, sounding as though she meant it. Her face puckered mournfully, though there was the suspicion of a twinkle in her eye, as though she was amused despite her best intentions.

Rue sighed. "I didn't even know that he *had* a family name until the first package from you arrived, with 'Calloway' on the return address. It's just so different, for Cal to be secretive about anything. Usually he's ready to tell me more than I want to know about any given subject."

"He does tend to lack a verbal filter sometimes," Moira commented, and now there was definitely a spark of amusement there. Rue eyed her sharply for a moment, and she buried her nose in her tea. "Well, his name is legally Cal Pierce now."

Rue gritted his teeth, tried to turn it into a grin, and also hid behind his mug when he failed miserably. That was still a point of major contention... though if he was honest he was the only one who had a problem with it. There was a deep part of him that was absurdly touched and somehow pleased that Cal had taken his name, but his first and final reactions were horror at the very idea and indignation over the presumptuousness that had led the man to adopt Rue's family name as his own.

Well, as Moira had said, Cal had legally changed his name. Whatever the name his parents had given him -- and Rue might never find out what it had been -- he was Cal Pierce now.

Yet another example of how Cal had pushed his way into Rue's life whether he would or no, without waiting to ask for permission, without even a thought for what Rue might have wanted.

Rue sighed, hanging his head a little, touching a hand to his temple.

"Rue, dearheart," Moira said, sounding concerned as she reached across the table, placing a warm hand over his for just a moment. "You look like you're still tired."

Rue shook his head, raising his gaze to meet hers. That wasn't the reason for his sudden drooping, but he discovered upon giving it a moment's consideration that he really *was* tired. Maybe he hadn't been as recovered from last night as he had thought. "I'm all right," he assured Moira. He was beginning to feel as though that was his mantra for this entire trip.

"Tush!" Moira rose to her feet, her eyes flashing, her expression stern. "You shouldn't push yourself; you're here on vacation, after all! A vacation that you badly need, by all accounts. You take yourself back downstairs and have a nice nap. I'll call you when it's lunch time -- we're eating it late today anyhow, since the other boys are out."

Rue flushed, feeling as though he was a child being ordered about by a parent. And yet, there was something strangely comforting about it, and he found himself desiring nothing more than to do as Moira had instructed. He couldn't remember a time since he had come to be on his own, supporting himself and then himself and a child, that he hadn't been working or looking for work. This really was his first vacation. Ever.

Catching up on the sleep that Cal had kept him from the night before sounded like an excellent idea to him all of a sudden.

"All right," he said meekly, standing and offering Moira a small smile. "Just make sure that you don't let me sleep too long, please."

"Of course not." Moira stepped around the table and patted his upper arm. "Today is too lovely to sleep away, but I want you to be rested so that you can enjoy it properly."

Rue murmured a couple of inanities about the farm and the tea, then beat a hasty retreat down to the room in the basement. They'd had an entire conversation that hadn't been a total disaster, and yet he still felt as though he didn't know how to talk to Moira. It was better to remove himself.

He yawned as he made his way down the stairs. He was moving smoothly now, not really sore anymore -- except where his shoulder still ached, but that was something else entirely -- and yet a few hours lying still and unmoving appealed to him. And he could relax, feeling safe, because Cal was out and wouldn't be back to bother him until it was closer to lunch time.

Maybe he would survive this visit after all. It was certainly to be hoped.

***

Moira sighed, moving to put the tea things away and running over the last hour in her mind. It had gone... relatively well....

She hadn't gotten as much out of Rue as she had wanted, hadn't even really started into the important stuff. But she had a much better feel for him now. He was even more of a skittish thing than she had suspected previously. She was going to have tread carefully and not push him harder than he could take. Someone somewhere in his past had hurt him deeply and badly, and she would be willing to bet that it had been his parents. Which would go a long way toward explaining why he was so uncertain and uncomfortable around herself and Jack. Not that she wasn't just as sure that there were other reasons; reasons that had more to do with her son and his behavior.

Moira shook her head, scowling into the sink as she ran the water to do some dishes. All her protective instincts surged to the fore when she thought about Rue Pierce, and yet there was nothing outside of his past that he needed protection from... other than her own son. Not that she thought that Cal was treating Rue badly, of course! But, as much as she loved Cal -- and she did -- she was aware that he was lacking in large amounts of empathy and tact. Both of which were to be needed in dealing with Rue successfully.

Well, she had a clearer understanding, now, of why there was still tension in their relationship even after two years. It wasn't her place to speculate, speak out of turn, or butt in where she wasn't welcome, but the Mother in her wouldn't be happy unless she managed to say a few pointed things to Cal before he left. And making nice with Rue, giving the boy someone to vent to, and offering him unconditional acceptance and love could only be good for him. That young man needed a mother figure badly, even though he would probably never even recognize this fact himself.

Draining the sink, Moira crossed to the small office area. There was still a farm to run, no matter how important sons, grandsons, and son-in-laws were. But she was going to speak to Cal before too much more time had passed. There were a few things that he needed to hear.

This had only been one of the first of several sessions with Rue over tea that she planned. And before the three went home, they would be comfortable with each other. This was something she had resolved, and she could be twice as stubborn as Cal at his worst.

She and Rue would bond yet; of this she entertained no doubts.

***

It wasn't difficult finding busywork for Jayce on the farm; there was always something that needed doing, and Jack's grandson was both eager and capable. He wasn't as strong as Cal had been at his age, but there was definitely the promise in him of powers more than normal humans possessed.

"I helped lots, didn't I, Grampa?!" Jayce enthused as they made their way back toward the farmhouse at around three in the afternoon.

"You helped immensely," Jack assured him, holding the small hand in his own as though it was something precious -- which it was -- and making sure to temper his stride so that he wasn't rushing the shorter legs. "I'm getting too old to chase those chickens around like that, and you've got a great eye for finding their hidden eggs!"

Jayce's little face glowed at this compliment and he strutted along, looking for all the world as though he belonged here on the farm, with hay in his hair and dirt-stains on his jeans.

"My favorite part was the kittens!" Jayce exclaimed, skipping a little and not seeming at all tired even after all the tearing around and whooping that he had been doing. Jack envied him this boundless energy a little, but knew that the boy was going to crash all the harder this evening for it. "We can't have pets at home, so I like to play with them here!"

"Why no pets?" Jack asked, glancing at Cal, who was pacing silently but cheerfully beside them. He couldn't imagine not being surrounded by animals, and wondered how Cal had adjusted to such a life.

"We're all too busy to properly care for a pet," Cal answered, his hands shoved in his pockets, his shoulders relaxed. He looked quietly pleased, his eyes bright, his cheeks blooming, and it was clear that this return to his old homestead was doing him good. "Besides, all our furniture and carpeting is cream colored, which wouldn't do well with a kitten or a puppy."

"I don't mind," Jayce assured Jack, squeezing his hand and smiling up at him. "I can play with the animals here and pets that my friends have, and that way Dad doesn't get all jealous over sharing Daddy."

Jack thought back to Cal's reaction to Rascal's innocent inspection of Rue, and bit his lip to restrain a chuckle. Ah. That right there was the real reason, he was sure of it. The thought of a kitten trying to curl up on Rue's lap and Cal's probable reaction to that.... Yeah. He and Moira had tried to raise Cal to share and be generous, but when his inner-demon said "mine," there wasn't much point in arguing.

"So, no black cats?" he asked Cal, quirking a brow.

"Dad." Cal shot him an exasperated look. "Even witches don't really have familiars, and Rue's a wiccan." His mouth twisted. "Best not joke about that around him, either. He doesn't take it too well."

"Wasn't planning on it," Jack grunted, grinning despite the warning. Unlike Cal he knew how to be tactful when the situation required it.

It was too bad that Jayce was being raised in a home without pets, seeing how much fun he had playing with Rascal, but it was clearly for the best. Jack couldn't judge, and Cal had obviously thought things through.

As they got nearer the house, Cal swung Jayce up into his arms, carrying him so that he and Jack could walk faster. No doubt this was so that they could reach the meal that they could smell Moira cooking all the more swiftly, but Jayce squealed happily, enjoying the ride.

It warmed Jack's heart, seeing his son with a little boy of his own. When he and Moira had discovered that Cal preferred the company of males exclusively they'd resigned themselves to never becoming grandparents. That Trish Whelan's forceful seduction -- Jack and Moira called it rape and it had been nothing less -- of the seventeen year old Cal had resulted in a child had been a mixed blessing. While it shouldn't have happened, and Cal hadn't been able to track the child down for four years, Jayce was too precious a wonder to even consider regretting.

Cal swung Jayce up to ride on one broad shoulder and the boy giggled happily, surveying their path up to the house from this heady vantage point.

"Smells as though your mother is frying up her homemade sausages," Jack remarked as they stamped up the back steps and tumbled into the kitchen. "Am I right?"

Of course he was right, not that it had ever been in question; Jack's nose had never steered him wrong where his wife's cooking was concerned.

Moira took charge without ever leaving her position in front of the stove, wielding a spatula with precision. "Jack, you wash your hands and then get the table set. Jayce, sweetie, I want your pants changed, your hands and face washed, and don't you be playing with Rascal on your way back in here. Cal, go and let Rue know that lunch is almost ready, but be quiet about it because he's napping. And grab a jar of canned peppers from the root cellar on your way back up. Don't forget those; I need them for the sausage."

"Yes, ma'am," Cal replied promptly, and with such obedience displayed by his father, Jayce could hardly protest. Jack crossed to the kitchen sink and scoured his hands with the dry soap while his son and grandson took their separate paths out of the kitchen. He could have used that fancy, water-free sanitizer that Moira liked to use, but he never felt as though that stuff got his hands really clean. He preferred to scrub the dirt and germs off.

"What do you want to bet he forgets the peppers?" Jack asked, chuckling, as he turned, drying his hands on the dishtowel.

Moira shook her head, forebearing to answer. "How did Jayce do today?" she asked, poking at the sausage and leaning back into the quick hug Jack gave her before he grabbed the plates and headed for the table.

"He did great," Jack enthused. "Regular little farmer-in-training. Though I think he might have had a little too much fun tossing the roosters after Cal showed him how." He eyed the cold, nearly empty teapot still sitting on the table, then grabbed it and took it over to the sink. "How did your tea with Rue go?"

Moira made a sound that wasn't a sigh or a snort but something else entirely. Jack interpreted it as mild frustration. "Oh, fine. That boy has more walls built around him...." This time she did sigh. "I'm used to dealing with you and Cal, honey. You're both honest to a fault and I don't need to do any digging, or be careful of hurting your feelings most of the time. But Rue is...."

They heard Jayce's feet on the stairs, and Moira let that sentence trail away, unfinished.

"Well, I'm confident that you'll win in the end," he assured her as their grandson pattered stocking-footed into the kitchen.

"Jack. It's not a battle." Now Moira sounded exasperated.

"What's a battle?" Jayce wanted to know.

"Your Gramma said that it wasn't a battle," Jack corrected. "Now go and get me the utensils, will you? They're in that drawer."

"Gramma told you to set the table," Jayce said tartly. "But I'll help you anyway."

"Generous of you," Jack rumbled, and he and Jayce grinned at each other in perfect understanding.

With the two of them working together they had the table set swiftly. By the time they were done, Cal and Rue had emerged from downstairs. Rue's hair was a little mussed and his cheeks were sleep-flushed, but he responded with a cheerful smile when Jayce threw himself into his arms and began to regale him with tales of what they had done that morning.

Cal was sent back down for the peppers that he had forgotten.

"So what are we going to do this afternoon, Dad?" Cal asked, once they were all seated around the table for a somewhat late lunch. Jayce insisted on sitting in Rue's lap, and no one argued, least of all Rue, who hadn't seen his son since he had put him to bed the night before.

"Well," Jack replied slowly, mulling the matter over. "There's not a lot left to do on the farm, and your mother and I have paperwork.... But we wouldn't mind babysitting if you wanted to take Rue into town and show him some of your old haunts."

"Um, no," Cal said flatly, his response definite and almost immediate.

"No?" Jack blinked.

"No, Jack," Moira said gently, placing a hand over his. Clearly his wife knew something that he didn't. He was only confused.

Rue was helping Jayce cut his sausage one handed and seemed to be ignoring the entire conversation. Jack wondered what on earth it was that he was missing. It must be pretty obvious, and yet he couldn't figure it out.

Well, he was perfectly willing to drop the subject now and ask Moira later, in private. Still, what harm could there be in taking Rue to see the places Cal used to hang out? Jack was pretty sure that most of Cal's old friends were still around; the ones who hadn't moved away or gotten married. Not that most of Cal's old companions had married, for obvious reasons..... Oh.

"Oh." He cast Moira a sheepish look, and she gave him a stern glare.

Yes. The last thing Rue needed was to meet any of Cal's ex-lovers. That would just make the stress of this visit complete.

"Well, how about we all take the afternoon off and go fishing down at the pond," Jack offered, hoping this didn't sound too lame. Cal had never had the patience for fishing, and he doubted that Jayce would either. Rue didn't seem as though he'd be happy sitting next to a wet hole in the ground, pinning small creatures on a hook and waiting for a fish to bite....

And that was where Jack was completely wrong. Rue raised his head, his clear blue-green eyes alight, his face more animated than Jack had seen it yet since meeting the young man, "Fishing?"

Cal pulled a face, and Jack kicked him under the table, knowing it wouldn't hurt. "A-yup," he replied genially, helping himself to a third serving of his wife's sausages. "Not much in the pond but trout. Still, it's a nice little area; got trees and grass. We've set up a table and an outdoor grill, and there's even an outhouse within walking distance, away out of the way."

"We can bring a picnic and have dinner out there," Moira enthused, joining in the planning.

"Can Rascal come?" Jayce wanted to know.

"Of course, baby," Moira smiled. "We wouldn't be able to make him stay at home; that would just be cruel."

"Can I bring my sketchbook?" Jayce pursued, bouncing on Rue's lap. "In case I get bored with fishing?"

After being assured that he could, the boy seemed perfectly willing to fall in with their plans. Now there was only one hold-out.

"Aw, Dad, fishing is so boring," Cal grumbled, his dark brows contracting. "That's not really what I wanna do my first day back on the farm...."

"Now, Cecil," Jack chided, but anything further he might have had to say was interrupted by Cal's anguished howl.

"DAD!!"

"Cecil?" Rue glanced back and forth between the two of them, his eyes glittering, his mouth curved in the beginnings of what promised to bloom from a small grin to a full-fledged smirk.

"Oops." Jack grimaced. It had been an honest slip, though. After all, that was the name they had given their son; a fine name, Jack's father's name. The boy might insist on being called Cal, short for Calloway, had even legally changed his name, but to Jack he would always be Cecil.

"So... Cecil Calloway?"

Moira rolled her eyes, but resolutely kept out of it. Jayce was giggling on his father's lap. Rue looked as though he had been given a bit of precious information, something he would treasure in days to come... and this was probably close to the truth.

Cal cast Jack a betrayed look, and Jack just shrugged at him. "It's your name, son," he rumbled. "Shouldn't be ashamed of it."

"My name is Cal," he gritted, as though saying it forcefully would make it true.

"Dad, your name is really Cecil?" Jayce piped up. Jack bit back a grin. He could have sworn he had just heard Rue snicker.

"My name is Cal Pierce," Cal said with admirable dignity. He rose and carried his plate and utensils to the sink, then turned and glowered at Jack. "Thanks a lot, Dad."

Jack couldn't find it in himself to feel bad. Not that he really tried.

"Cal, you go and help Jayce get ready to go fishing," Moira, ever the peacemaker, instructed. "Make sure he dresses warmly and has a change of clothes, a jacket, and his sketchbook and pencils. We're going to be out there a while. Jack, go and get the rods and tackle. And grab the camera. Rue, will you help me prepare and pack the meal once you've changed your clothes?"

"Of course," Rue replied immediately. Jack rose to head for the workshed, feeling less than repentant. Cal made some whining sounds, but then headed out of the kitchen with his son.

As the entire family parted ways, it lingered in the air like a little chortle.

"Cecil."

It would be a while before Cal -- or Jack -- lived this one down.

***

[Work in Progress]