Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING.

A/N: First Bates Motel fic. This has been rattling around in my head since the Season 5 premiere and finally got it edited to where I like it.

Left side, back, right side. Caleb had lost track of how many times he'd repeated this circuit. His eyes were stinging from exhaustion, but he couldn't get comfortable. The fact that Dylan's couch was a little too short for him had nothing to do with it. No, the real problem was how long it had been since his last meal. If there was one thing Caleb couldn't stand, it was being hungry. You'd think growing up the way he had with two certifiably insane, abusive parents would've numbed him to the sensation. Of course, after leaving home, Caleb had always made sure he had enough money to eat regularly (which often meant sleeping in whatever vehicle he was driving at the time).

Caleb drew a blank when he tried to remember the exact way Norma used to rub his empty belly to make him feel better. It made no sense to him why Dylan and Emma hadn't offered him anything earlier. He knew they weren't happy about him interrupting their party, but how was he supposed to know it was even going on? They'd cared enough to give him a place to sleep...even let him hold his granddaughter...

Caleb's stomach interrupted his thoughts with a series of painful grumbles. A headache from low blood sugar throbbed in both his temples. Unable to stand it any longer, Caleb pushed off the blankets and went into the kitchen. While pouring himself a glass of milk, he noticed something on the counter: a layer cake, strawberry with vanilla frosting and Emma's name written in pink. It was obviously homemade. Caleb smiled to himself, recalling how Norma loved to bake treats whenever the family actually had ingredients on hand.

Emma jerked awake when she heard someone clattering around in the kitchen. It wasn't Dylan; his arm was still lying across her waist. Nobody would break in just to forage through their cabinets, meaning the only suspect was her father-in-law (though she shuddered to think of Caleb in those terms). Emma went out into the hall, pulling her favorite wrap sweater over the tank top she was sleeping in. Sure enough, there was Caleb, helping himself to a large chunk of her birthday cake. Emma paused in the doorway, watching Caleb lick some frosting off one of his fingers. Suddenly, he realized she was there. In spite of herself, Emma grinned at the look on his face; he was like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Oh God, I didn't mean to wake you up," Caleb said sheepishly.

The tips of his ears were red; the same thing happened to Dylan's when he was embarrassed.

"I'm sorry. I was just so hungry," Caleb went on. "You ever wake up in the middle of the night and you just need to eat somethin'?"

"Oh my God, all the time," said Emma. "Especially in my second trimester. I ate so much."

Caleb chuckled. "It doesn't show." He didn't have a clue, but those were more or less the same words Dylan had used on the subject.

Emma joined him at the kitchen island.

"Were you, um, scared?" Caleb wondered aloud. "I mean, being pregnant?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "We did not plan it. But I just felt...so strong. Like life had given me a second chance."

"It did," said Caleb.

"I know. And I wanna thank you."

"For...what?"

"For what you did for me, to help get the surgery."

Emma didn't care much for Caleb, given the circumstances of her husband's birth. But she also knew she'd be dead without him, or at least bedridden. Before she knew it, things tumbled out of her mouth: what it had been like to have a death sentence hanging over her head, how she never thought she'd live long enough to be a wife, let alone a mother.

"I will always, always be grateful."

"It was my pleasure," Caleb told her. "Truly."

There was awkward silence for a moment. Emma stared at the counter, fiddling with her wedding band. She willed herself not to let the tears of joy fall, not in front of Caleb. She'd already been too vulnerable. She had to change the subject, fast.

"You know something else?" Emma started.

"What?"

"That cake looks so good."

Emma giggled. After a second, Caleb laughed too. The tension was broken.

"Here." He handed her a plate and a fork. "You, uh, want some milk?"

Emma nodded. "Please."

She cut herself a smaller chunk, much more quietly than Caleb had. Caleb brought her a glass. He knew Norma was the last person he should bring up, but this whole scene reminded him of her. He picked up his fork, but didn't start.

"You okay?" asked Emma.

"I was just thinking..."

"About what?"

"It's nothing. It's kinda silly." Caleb took a huge bite of cake. He could tell by the look in Emma's eyes that she wouldn't let it drop. "You know Norma loves to bake, right?"

Emma shook her head. "Actually, I didn't."

"She always has, even when we were kids," said Caleb. "Things at our house...they got pretty bad sometimes..."

Emma didn't press for details.

"And, um, I think that kinda helped her deal with it. You know? Every time she baked somethin', she'd tell me, 'There's nothin' in life that'll help you forget your problems like somethin' sweet and a glass of cold milk.'"

Emma had to admit to herself Norma had something there. Caleb snapped out of his reverie and started wolfing down his piece of cake. The frosting had been spread on thick, but not to the point of excess; the cake itself was moist and he could tell there were real strawberries in it.

"This is one of the best cakes I've ever had!" Caleb exclaimed when he came up for air.

"Shhhhh," Emma hissed. "You'll wake up Kate."

"Sorry," Caleb whispered. "Seriously, Emma, who made this?"

Emma smiled. "Dylan."

"Dylan," Caleb repeated, beaming with pride. "Guess it runs in the family."

Emma's piece was roughly half the size of Caleb's, but they finished at almost the same time. There wasn't a crumb left on Caleb's plate.

"I feel so much better," he sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair.

Emma stacked her glass on top of her plate, then reached for his.

"Nah, you go back to sleep," said Caleb, carefully taking them from her. "I'll do the dishes and turn the lights off before I go to bed." He held his arms out for a hug and was surprised when his daughter-in-law embraced him. "Happy birthday, Emma."

On the short walk back to the bedroom, Emma thought about what she'd originally intended to tell Caleb (namely, "Get the hell out of my house"). Why hadn't she gone through with it? Yes, Caleb paying for her lung transplant had been a major reason, but there was something else nagging at the back of her mind...

It clicked into place as she heard the sink running. The traits Dylan had inherited from Norma the selfish basket case were strictly physical; sharing a midnight snack with Caleb had made her realize how many mannerisms father and son shared. Could it be possible there was good in Caleb? Sliding back under the covers with Dylan, Emma decided that was a question for another day.

THE END