A/N: Hello all! As my first contribution (I hope to have time for more!) to the Red Cricket Christmas Bash I'm filling the prompt of "Red Cricket and their children do something Christmas related". It started out as a small fluff piece and now it's 25 pages long so I'll post it in three parts. It's a sequel to Friend in Need, sort of, but you don't have to read that to understand anything in this story. I hope you will enjoy and Merry Christmas!

Flynn Lucas-Hopper drew a deep breath when he entered the house. All the smells he knew from growing up met him, bringing him back the memories as if they had happened yesterday. He smelled his mother's perfume, clean sheets, the tea his father favored and warmth. Added to it was the sweet scent of the Christmas cookies his mother made, walnuts and red apples. Feeling relaxation seep through him he smiled when he heard the music. It sounded like his father had won the picking game and a smooth, soothing blues version of "White Christmas" was melting in the air. Setting down his bag and hanging his leather jacket on the hooks he had made in crafts class in sixth grade he smiled. He remembered how proud he had been of those, how painstakingly he had worked on them to bring them to his parents who had immediately put them up and never used anything else since. It hadn't mattered to them the hooks were uneven and that they had to be re-screwed every six months. He'd made it so they loved it.

Catching his reflection in the hall mirror he ran a hand through his dark hair. It was getting long again, the edges of it brushing the tops of his shoulders. The image in it was the same as usual, with the light green eyes of his mother, her dark, straight hair, her cheekbones, the masculine version of her mouth. He had a narrow face, dark stubble and sharp canines that gave him a vaguely dangerous look though he had never seen it himself. Women seemed to like it though, their comments ranging from rock star to pirate to rogue prince. His tall build and wide shoulders he had his father to thank for though and grinning sardonically at the thought that he was just so damn pretty he steered into the kitchen.

Leaning against the doorjamb he felt his heart warm and squeeze. His parents were making dinner, his mother in black jeans and a red sweater of his father's, sleeves rolled up and a white apron tied around her waist. At fifty two (though no one was allowed to disclose her age on pain of death) she was still slim, her hair still rich and dark, her skin smooth, only a few crows feet betraying she was over forty. The green of her eyes was still as bright, her smile still as easily summoned, as he remembered from his childhood. She was cutting carrots and he recognized all the signs of his favorite food being made. At twenty-five that still made his day. Feeling his love for his mom rise in his chest, for remembering and for the effort, he saw his dad step up behind his mother.

"I'm not sure you're doing that right." His dad's voice, the warm, deep sound of it the best cure for nightmares, insecurities and hurts in the world sounded over the music. As a child he'd been comforted by the that tone countless times.

"No? And how is meant to be done?" His mother's voice was filled with laughter as his father put his hands over hers, his back flush against hers.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to show you…It's rather complicated."

"Oh?" His mother raised an eyebrow. "I'm a pretty fast learner."

"Okay, we'll give it a shot. Here, put this here." He put the knife down. "And then you turn, like so," He turned her so she was flush against him, her wrists still in his hand, held behind her back. "Not too bad. Then you tilt your head, just so…Perfect." Both smiling, he claimed her lips and kissed her. Letting her wrist slip from his grip she wound them around his neck and pulled herself up on her toes. Feeling both happy to see his parents so obviously still in love after twenty-seven years together he was also slightly disturbed, as any child would be, to see his parents kissing. Though, he thought when he saw it, was it any wonder he still hadn't found anyone to be with seriously? No girl he had ever been with had ever come close to give him the feeling he saw shining in the eyes of his parents when they looked at each other. Deciding when his mother ran her hand into his dad's hair it was high time to interrupt he cleared his throat.

"Mum, dad." Breaking apart they both smiled widely.
"Flynn, you're here!" His mother left his father's embrace, her hand lingering just a moment longer than necessary on his sleeve. Opening her arms she wrapped him into a hug. As always feeling strangely protective as he now towered over her he pulled her close, the scent of her warm and welcome in his nostrils.

"Mum. It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, baby. It's so great to have you home." Pulling back she laid a hand to his cheek. "And handsome as ever. You get that from your father." She winked as she said is as it was obvious to anyone who he looked like the most.

"It's true. My smarts I get from my mother."

"Flatterer." She stepped back so his father could wrap him a hug. He had never been too protective of his manliness to not hug and kiss his children freely and hugging him back Flynn realized how much he'd missed them. The easy companionship they had, the cozy home they'd built, the love they spread to all around them.

"Dad."

"It's good to see you. Come on in, have a seat and tell us about your latest adventures." So he did, seated with a beer at the kitchen island, he related the latest dingy bars he had played, how Keith, the drummer, had been banned from entering the entire state of Wisconsin and how they had smuggled him to the gigs in under the name Gregor, telling everyone he was a Scotsman. Keith had happily made nonsensical sounds people assumed was his accent and not questioned further.

"How are things here? Anything new since we Skyped last?"

"Well, Rufus is thinking about expanding the bookstore next year, it's going really well and he and Cecilia think it's time to." His mum said as she set pasta water to boil. Always they spoke of their children first, when asked what was going on, never them. They'd speak about Rufus, Merida and Clare before getting to what they had been up to. So though he'd spoken to all three of his siblings recently he settled down to listen, balancing his beer on his knee.

Cecilia was his brother's wife, a sweet, pretty girl and the daughter of Belle and Rumpelstiltskin. His brother and her had been childhood friends, always teetering on the edge of something more, even as children. They had dated since they were fifteen and no one had been surprised when they got married at twenty.

"Merida is talking about finishing her degree earlier by taking on another two courses next term, which both your mother and I have told her we think is too much, but you know Merida." He did indeed, but not like his dad. They had always had a special bond, his dad's first daughter and him. Maybe that why she was studying to become a psychiatrist at Brown. Between her postgraduate studies Merida rode, fenced, scuba dived and rock climbed. Anything vaguely dangerous she loved and he knew it worried his parents to distraction.

"I do. How is she going to have time for all her hobbies?"

"I have no idea. I think she was talking about giving them up for a while and finish." Flynn snorted,

"She'd never make it. She loves them all too much. Is she seeing anyone?"
"Not that we know of. She says she doesn't have time." His mother rolled her eyes. "No time. At least that way we know it's no one serious. If it were she'd take time." She gave the sauce a stir and nodded when his father held up a bottle of wine. Accepting a glass she sat down as well as his dad got out salad makings.

"Clare is working until seven tonight, but she'll be home in time for dinner. She's looking at cooking schools online and thinking about whether she should take a year to work or go straight there." Clare, the baby of the family had started working as a waitress at the diner at fourteen, as they all had, to earn pocket money and learn some responsibility. It had turned out Clare had a knack for cooking and had moved into the kitchen to learn from Clark, their chef and Granny herself. By now she was fairly running the place when she wasn't at school. At eighteen she was the only one to still live at home with their parents.

"She should go somewhere else, get some more experience, I think."

"Maybe," his mother said and sipped her wine. As the last child to leave the nest and the youngest he knew she was having some trouble letting her go.

"And you, how about you two?"
"Well, your dad has cut down his working time by a few hours a week so we can actually see each other some. By now most people here have reconciled their two sides, found peace. He's going to need a hobby, though try telling him that working is not a hobby." She sent a teasing smile over her shoulder.

"It's not work, it's research. And I…All right, stop grinning at me like you two know everything. I'll find something to do. Your mother could take me to one of her knitting groups, for example."

"It's a craft class."

"Mhm." His dad innocently returned to the salad making. "But she's finished her anthropology degree now and is looking into civil engineering."
"Really?"

"Yes, it seems fun." After he and his siblings had been old enough to not need their mum full time she had began studying and somehow had ended up bitten by it. In the time since she had collected three degrees.

"You are so weird."

"It's genetic. Congratulations."

"I forgive you. You're still my favorite mother."

"Why thank you, sweetie. You can prove it by setting the table."

o.O.o

Rufus Lucas-Hopper hurried up the porch steps of his parents' house. As the drive from the store was short he had foregone his coat and slipping inside he was thankful to find it warm and smelling of Bolognese sauce. He was sure it would snow soon and smiled to himself thinking of seeing Storybrooke wrapped in its white winter coat again. Cecilia loved it and never failed to get excited about the snow. He was sure there would be a snowball fight with his siblings, snow angels with Cecilia and building a fort with the younger citizens of Storybrooke on the agenda tomorrow.

He heard the rattling of plates in the dining room and shuffling upstairs and went for upstairs first. He found his mother smoothing fresh sheets on his brother's bed, the room still the same teenage shrine to rock it had been while he lived there.

"Hi, Mum," she straightened and smiled.

"Sweetie, there you are." Reaching him to accept a kiss on the cheek, she asked,

"Where's Celia?"

"She's coming a bit later, she's just closing up. Will I do for now?" His mother's lips twitched.

"You are a rather poor replacement but if I can't have Celia, I suppose…" She joked and bent to gather up the sheets that had been on the bed.

"I'll take those."

"I'm okay."

"I know, just let me anyway." He took them and she put her hands on her hips.

"You're too sweet, you know that? Just like your father." It wasn't the first time he'd heard the comparison. In many ways he was his father's son. They shared a love of books and learning, of quiet and peace, of soul and blues, of tradition and habit. Neither had ever felt the compelling need to travel that seemed to haunt Merida and Flynn. In many ways he had grown up to find a best friend in his dad and twice a week they met after work to walk or have a beer. Down to his looks he was the younger vesion of his father, with sandy hair that looked ginger in the sun, curly and soft. His eyes shone the same blue and his mouth smiled the same slanted smile. Where Flynn was his mother to a tee Rufus was all their dad.

"Who would want to be anything but sweet to you? Should I put these in the laundry room?" Amused, Ruby shook her head.

"Smooth talkers all of you are. Please, in the left bin, I'll do them tomorrow." Nodding, Rufus set off down the hall and dumped the laundry in the bin. On his way back to the kitchen he found his dad in the den.

"Fuss, hi." The nickname was unfortunate but it had stuck. Flynn was the only one who had escaped, unfairly. Rufus, Merida and Clare were most often called Fuss, Merry and Little.

"Dad. What are you up to?"

"Your mother's busy interrogating your brother about the girls he's been seeing so I thought I'd try and get this to work to get her this thing I saw for Christmas." He gestured to the ancient tabletop computer where a shopping site was open.

"I thought you already got mum a present?"
"I did. This is just an extra. I saw it and thought she might like it." That, Rufus thought, was why his parents were still happily together. They never gave up thinking of the other first. He suspected if they ever had to go to couples counseling their question would not be revolving around "I need," but "What do you need," thus cancelling the need in the first place.

"Okay, let's see what Belinda is up to now." Belinda was the affectionate name his mother had given the computer. Whenever Rufus mentioned upgrading it to something snazzier his parents just smiled and shook their heads. They knew her quirks, they said. It still beat him how they could want a machine you had to slap twice to start, then log in once, restart and wait for it to boot. Then you went into network connections and disabled them, enabled, waited for connection and then you were good to go. His mother claimed this time was useful; to think about life in general and the big questions and also made sure they weren't over-reliant on the machine. It drove him up the wall but then he didn't have to use it.

"These books here?"

"Mmh, they're the ones she needs for her new course. I figured since I already got her the necklace with the picture of all of you engraved on it I should get her something practical as well." His father was his hero for a reason so he settled down in front of the computer and struggled until he could get the basket to the checkout and hit "buy". The previous purchases screen came up under the heading "Have You Forgotten Something?" and Rufus felt his cheeks grow red. The screen showed various lacy types of lingerie, a collection of corsets and pairs of stockings.

"Ah…did you already get mum something?" To his surprise his shy father just chuckled.

"I didn't. Your mum must've meant to surprise me." His voice was warm and appreciative and quickly Rufus closed the window. Though he appreciated knowing his parents still had a healthy sex life he'd prefer to not know what his mother wore in the bedroom.

"Right. Well, that's those books ordered." Rufus got up and his dad laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't tell your siblings about your mother's shopping. I think she'd be embarrassed." He shook his head.

"Of course not," though he would have really liked to share the pain.

"Did you get a start on those joins for the new shelves, by the way?"

"No, not yet."

"Want a hand next week? Your mum's going to a girl's night up at the Mansion."

"Yeah, that'd be good. I think Celia is going too." His mother poked her head into the room and he turned.

"Fuss, there you are, your brother's looking for you, he said he hadn't seen you yet. Merida just texted, she should be here any minute."
"I'll go say hi."

o.O.o

Merida Lucas-Hopper carefully slowed down as she drove past the sign spelling "Welcome To Storybrooke", knowing the patch of road past it always froze once the thermometer dropped below zero. It definitely was, she thought as she glanced out her window, the frost palpable in the quiet in the air. Wanting to feel it she rolled down the window of the cherry red cabriolet her mother had given her when she went off to university.

"So you'll come back," she'd said with a smile, not a thought given to losing one of her most prized possessions, the red convertible.

"But…what about Flynn? Or Fuss, or Little?" She was sure any of her siblings would love it. Okay, maybe not Rufus, he probably thought it was flashy. But the others.

"They don't have the same connection to it." Ruby put a hand on the shiny hood affectionately.

"What's that?"
"Well, you were most likely made in this car."

"Mum! Ew!" Ruby had just laughed in that rich, full way she did and tucked one of Merida's bright red curls behind her ear.

"Flynn got some of our savings when he left, Rufus got Marco's old apartment in town, Clare will most likely get part of the Diner when she's older. This is yours, Merry." So Merida had done all she could and just hugged her mum.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Then she had driven it down the drive, away from the house she'd spent her whole life in as her parents waved from the porch, smiling, their arms around each other. But Merida had caught the last glimpse of them when they'd thought she couldn't see them anymore in the rearview mirror, her mother turning to her father, her head bent, quiet tears shaking her. Merida had turned the corner, laid her head on the steering wheel and shed a few tears herself. However excited she was about staring university, of making it on her own she'd just miss them so much.

Miss her father who would come in and kiss her goodnight every night, his scent and voice the best lullaby she had ever known. Her father who would always stop to listen, no problem too small, no worry left unrested, no secret ever shared. Miss her mother who would laugh every day and sing in the shower, who would play even the wildest games with her her children and who lived through impulse. And through it all her father would watch her, adoration in his eyes.

Checking her mirrors and flashing her lights in greeting as she spotted Sleepy's car (both to say hi and to make sure he stayed awake behind the wheel) she flicked her indicators. He responded, and satisfied he was awake Merry turned right.

That was all she wanted from a man really, one who would look at her the same way her father looked at her mother. With love, compassion, respect, understanding, want and disbelief - as if he couldn't believe she was still there, still his. Was that too much to ask? Merry didn't think so. Turning right again up her parents drive she sighed in contention as she saw the lights on in the window, the silver angel she'd made in third grade hanging in its spot of honor in the front room. Checking her wild hair had not gone for broke and was growing straight up and that the make-up she rarely wore hadn't smudged she turned off the ignition before getting out. The quick glance in the mirror had assured her her hair was indeed crazy but after twenty-one years of it she was used to that. The bright red curls were one of her mother's favorite toys and though they'd never stay in any do, braid or knot she never tired of trying. Under the wild locks her face was strong and angular, more striking than pretty with high cheek bones, a wide mouth and a straight nose with a small bump from when Flynn had broken it by throwing a baseball at her when she was seven. "Accident" he had termed it but she knew his aim was as sure as his charm. She'd gotten him back though with a perfect curveball to the groin. Smiling at the memory she hauled her duffel bag out of the back and slung it over her shoulder. The bump was more of a fond memory than a source of disappointment to her now. She'd never be as beautiful as her mother or as pretty as her sister but she was tall and strong and in his more romantic moments a past boyfriend had claimed she looked like a mermaid so she figured things could be worse.

Jogging up the steps she stepped in and dumped her bag with a thud.
"I'm home!" Flynn ambled out from the kitchen, a beer in his hand.

"Midget. You're here." Leaning against the doorjamb in his worn jeans and t-shirt, his long hair falling around his face he looked every bit the rock star and Merry tried to fight the smile. Failing miserably she laughed and jumped, wrapping him in a hug. Catching her with one arm he laughed and swung her round. Setting her down she pushed her hair out of her face. Her brother was still taller than her, one of the few people who could swing her around. Rufus was just the same height (to his everlasting annoyance) and Clare only reached to her shoulder. Merry was sure it was because of her brothers' teasing when she was growing up about being shorter than them she had willed her body to grow tall. Grinning at him she said,

"McCool himself. What a pleasure."

"Hey, what have I said about calling me that?" Setting his beer down Merry readied to spring into a run as she said innocently,

"What? McCool? I thought that was your artist name." It had been what he had picked, deadly serious, at thirteen. He had petitioned their parents fruitlessly to have his name legally changed to McCool Hopper and Merry thought it was a great shame they hadn't agreed. "I mean it's a classic. It'll be up there with the greats one day, Led Zeppelin, Rolling Stones and McCool Hopper."

"Okay, that's it." Lounging for her she thought she must be getting slow as he caught her in a headlock.

"How long have you been here, Merry? A minute? And you two are already wrestling." Rufus had come down the stairs and smiling up at him from her head locked position.

"Fuss. You look good. New tweed? Can it be new, actually? It always looks old. Or is that just you?" For a moment he raised an eyebrow and she wondered for a second if her brother had grown up and gone boring. But then he chuckled and shook his head.

"Okay, now you're really dead." Then he swung over the banister and landed in front of them, easily lifting her legs. Flynn changed his grip and together they carried her struggling, laughing form through to the living room.

"Do you want to do the holding her down or the tickling?"

"No! No, not the tickling! I'll be good, I promise, just no tickling!" Bucking in his grasp wildly, Flynn lost his balance and tumbling in a heap to the floor Merry slid like an eel from under them and crawled off. Then Rufus got a hold of her leg and pulled her back.

"Aren't you getting a bit old for this?" Their father had entered and everything inside of Merida lit up.

"Dad!" Scrambling up she all but climbed into his arms and chuckling he brought her close, his arms as strong and warm as when she was little.

"Hi, baby. Beating up your brothers again?"

"You bet." Ignoring her brothers protesting from the floor behind her she tilted her head. "I missed you, daddy."

"I missed you more. Welcome home." Hugging him again her mother entered.

"Darling! You're here!" Rushing in and hugging her close Merry closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of having both her parents near.

"Where else would I be? It's almost Christmas!"

"Merry's Christmas," her brothers chorused from behind her. It was a saying as old as her nickname and hugging her parents closer Merry knew it was. All hers.

o.O.o

Clare Lucas-Hopper hurried her steps and drove her hands deeper into her pockets. Though she had a beanie pulled down deep over her forehead and a scarf wrapped up to her nose the very air seemed insistent on biting any inch of exposed skin. Wrinkling her small nose in distaste at it and wishing it would at least snow if it was going to be so cold she turned down the corner of her street. Seeing three cars she recognized in addition to the usual one, she grinned. Her siblings were home. It always brought her a slightly bittersweet feeling every time they were home. For a few days everything seemed to be the way she remembered it, then after a few days they would leave again. Rufus just to his and Cecilia's apartment and the bookstore in town, but still. Sometimes she felt really alone being the only one not yet off to an adventure. The coming term would be her last in Storybrooke High and next fall she would be going to culinary school. Where, she hadn't yet decided, torn between the closer Institute where she could go home over weekends and the more prestigious, Culinary Arts.

She was actually hoping her siblings could help her choose. Even though she knew Flynn would ask which one seemed more fun. Rufus would ask which had a better program and Merry would say toss a coin. But knowing didn't mean hearing and she couldn't wait to hear their voices again. Couldn't wait to be woken by teasing voices, arguments and laughter. Couldn't wait to shout at Merry for taking to long in the shower washing the masses of hair she had. Couldn't wait to see Flynn staring in front of him as he shoveled cereal into his mouth in the morning, barely noticing when their mother ran a hand over his hair and kissed his temple. To watch Rufus would sit inhaling his coffee as if his life depended on it. See Merry lie with her head on the table, only grunting in response to any questions or initiated conversation. Her dad would be bright-eyed and keep catching her mother's eyes, her hand, stroke her cheek, as they got ready for the day ahead. And in the middle would be her, the only one of the Hopper-Lucas children who actually didn't mind mornings. She'd help her parents cook and laugh at her siblings' apathetic morning faces.

Hurrying her steps again she waved to Mrs. Merriweather who was peeking out through her window. Cheerily, the lady who had to be closing in on being quite a few centuries old, waved back. Reaching the garden Clare ducked under the birdhouse she'd made at school in second grade, the opening too small for even the most anorexic of sparrows. Catching herself from slipping she decided to use the back entrance to avoid the spot on the porch that always froze. Her clumsiness would make sure she slipped.

All her siblings were all tall, lithe and graceful but she'd gotten the short end of the stick, literally, as she was short and if not sturdy, certainly not lithe and with a lethal clumsiness that earned her more than a few scars in the kitchen. Rushing up the back steps (too close to the warmth of the basement to freeze unless it was really cold) she got herself inside and felt her whole body relax. She could hear Merry and Flynn's voices trailing out from the kitchen and a smile broke out on her face. They were here! Tugging off her hat and gloves, dropping them where she stood, knowing very well her mother would send her a stern look and send her to fix it soon. Letting her jacket follow she fluffed her hair up from it's sad, hat-contained flatness and glanced in the reflection of the glass on the washing machine in the mudroom. The only one in her family to be blonde and blue eyed her mother had jokingly sworn to her father he was really the dad when she had been born. It had taken until the morning when Granny had seen her to be explained – it was her coloring. Or had been before it turned grey, early as well, which she blamed entirely on Clare's mother. With pin straight, bright blonde hair, a heart shaped face, a small mouth with a pronounced cupid's bow and eyes the color of a summer lake Clare looked more like a young Mrs. Lucas than her parents. Her figure seemed to have been inherited from her as well, a petite frame with generous curves. Finding clothes that fit was an absolute nightmare but she did like the way her waist nipped deep and added flair to her short stature. Beyond their looks she shared a love of the Diner with her great-grandmother and a passion for cooking.

But if she thought about it, which she rarely did because after all she was herself and who she was like the most hardly mattered, she'd say she was most similar to her dad in the way she was. Merry and Flynn were both more of their mother, letting impulse and instinct guide them. Rufus and Clare both liked thinking and planning in advance, always careful how they treaded. And, they were both happy to stay, thriving at home and feeling no need to travel, never bothered by the itch that bothered both Flynn and Merida. But now they were back, and would be for at least a week. Clare couldn't wait.

Managing to get her wet boots off she skipped down the hall, hair flying, a laugh already in her throat. As she burst through the door she found Merry and Flynn on the floor, both stretching their long legs under the table as they played a board game set up on the coffee table. Rufus was on an armchair pulled up close, his eyes squinting behind his glasses as Merry teased him about taking so long to make his move. He just smiled and leaned further forward, his elbows resting on his knees. She didn't see her parents but with a whoop she rushed in and Merry found herself with her arms full of all five foot three of her sister. Hugging back Clare let the familiar scent of her older sister seep into her mind. The shampoo she favored, the faint note of grass that seemed to cling to her, a trace of wilderness that always followed her and the hint of leather of the jacket she tended to wear.

"Clare, it's so great to see you. You're starting to look all grown up!" Pulling back Merry scrutinized her face.
"And still so pretty. I remember I hate you now."

"Then I'll taker her. Hiya, gorgeous." Flynn pulled her into a hug and fiercely hugging her big brother back she realized how much she'd missed him. "We good-looking siblings have to stick together. Those uggos over there don't understand the burden we bear."

"Uggos? Sounds like someone needs to go through their high school yearbook again. Right, Fuss?" Rufus smiled back at her.

"Indeed. We should tie him to a chair and make him watch as we go though every single page."

"Excellent idea. But after dinner, I'm starving."

"You're always starving, if you have to be full for it to happen we'll never find the time."

"Ah! Low blow. I'm not going to be on your team anymore. Little, how about girls against boys instead?"

"Doing what?"

"This game for example. I'm sure we can whip their asses in Operation."

"Yes, you can have, Little for that game I'll take Fuss – he has the hands of a brain surgeon." Clare stuck out her tongue at Flynn and scooted over to Merry as Rufus wiggled his fingers like a piano player preparing for a sonata.

o.O.o

Ruby leaned her head on Archie's shoulder as they watched their children mock squabble over who had lost which parts of the game, as always discovering the poor little man in Operation only had two organs left to perform surgery on.

"I love it when they're all here." Jiminy drew her close, leaning his chin on top of her head.

"I do too. It's so strange to see them grown up."

"Don't say that. They're all my babies still."

"Quite large babies. But I know what you mean."

"I almost wish we could have another one. Why did I think we were done after four again?" She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled closer.

"I believe it had to do with not sleeping a full night for about seven years."

"Right. I remember. But oh, I wish I could do it again. Just have them be my little babies forever."

"There'll be grandchildren. And their children."

"So strange. I could be a grandmother soon. Do I look like one?" Amused, Jiminy looked down.

"No grandmother I've ever known."

"Good."

"But when you do look like one you'll still be the sexiest grandmother in the world." Ruby laughed and squeezed his arm.

"You always know what to say. Should we have dinner?"

A/N: Stay tuned for the continuation! S.D.