Disclaimer - Feel like mine. But not.

AN – This is set in the same Universe as I Never Liked Art. After Rich has moved in but just before Mac and Tessa find out that he's actually only sixteen. Hope that's clear!

!!!

Richie Ryan whistled lightly, as he took his key out of his back pocket and inserted it into the lock, which would gain access to the apartment over the Antique Store.

Life was good.

The thought came unbidden and took him rather by surprise. Sure, by nature, he was pretty much a glass half full kinda guy, you did the best you could with what you had, right? Sometimes he hadn't had much, but even in the darkest times there had always been something, a concerned teacher at school, Angie's floor to sleep on, Gary's fridge to raid.

But he could only think of two times in his life when he'd really been happy before.

Emily.

God, how he wished he could remember her face. He wondered if her eyes had sparkled with amusement the way Tessa's did when he said something funny. Or if her brow had got that little wrinkle in it like Tessa's when she worried over him being sick or injured.

Teresa.

Raising her daughters alone, she'd leant to be Mom and Dad both. She had yelled just as loud as Mac when they were watching the Seacouver Seals land a winning basket and she'd answered his awkward enquires about girlfriends with the same tolerant patience as the Immortal.

Talking of which.

"Hey Rich," Duncan looked up from the stove with a friendly smile as Richie appeared in the kitchen. "Enjoy your day off?"

Richie slid into a stood by the counter feeling pleased that the Scot would care enough to ask.

"Yeah, thanks." He sniffed appreciatively at the enticing smells drifting up from the pan on the stove. "You making that chicken thing again?" He asked hopefully.

"Uh huh," Duncan threw him an amused look. "You seemed to like it last time."

"Ah," Richie grinned. "Went a bit overboard?"

"A bit. Not much."

Frankly, Richie was touched that the Immortal would remember what he liked to eat. Between Mac being Scottish and Tessa being French, he had been afraid that he might be forced to eat all kinds of weird stuff. Instead, the couple had been considerate, encouraging him to try new things, but despite their good natured threats neither frogs legs or haggis had been a staple food.

"Can I help?"

"You don't have to."

That was another thing Richie liked about living here. Everyone did their fair share of chores. Not like some places, where the foster child had been seen as cheap labour. In the few, short weeks that he had been living here .. it almost felt like a family. Still, better not to go there. He'd been disappointed so many times before.

It wasn't like Mac and Tessa were his parents or anything. After all, they thought he was eighteen. He'd been in the right place at the wrong time, he knew about Immortals and Mac wasn't the kinda guy to stand by when he had seen that Richie was suffering at the hands of the system. That was all. He was their employee. Not their kid. Maybe that was the difference. Maybe.

"S'ok, I want to." Richie flushed slightly as his stomach made an audible rumble.

"Anything to hurry things along, huh?" Duncan smiled, not unkindly. "You can set the table if you like."

"I can do that."

Richie slid off the stool and trotted over to the draw, pulling out a handle of silverware and starting setting three places.

"Richie," Tessa greeted him, as she came into the kitchen. "You don't have to do that."

"I volunteered." Nonetheless, he was grateful when she reached out the napkins, water jug and glasses.

"Alright," Duncan took the pan of chicken, rice, vegetables and spices off the stove and ladled it out onto three plates. "Dinner is served."

Tessa fetched the warm herb bread from the oven and Richie brought the salad from the fridge as Duncan brought the plates to the table and they all sat down to eat.

"So," Duncan asked after a few moments. "What did you do today, Rich?"

"Um," Richie hesitated. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that."

"Oh?"

Looking up, Richie saw only interest, not censure. Encouraged, he continued. "I .. well I kinda won .. a race."

"Motocross?" Duncan said, astutely. At Richie's nod he continued. "And you won? Congratulations.." Duncan's proud smile tugged at his soul.

"Thanks."

"Motorcycles?" Tessa frowned faintly. "This is not dangerous?"

"Not if you know what you are doing." Richie assured her.

"Which he clearly does, if he won," Duncan cut in. "So, where's the Trophy, Tough Guy?"

"That's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about," Richie shifted slightly in his seat. "See, what I won was the regionals. If I'm gonna have a shot at the title, the race .. the final .. is next Saturday."

Saturday was his day to work in the Store.

"It's a pretty big deal," Richie pressed his case. "There'll be press there and scouts. If I win .. I might have a chance at the pro circuit. I know, I'm supposed to work, but .."

"Its fine, Rich."

"Its not like, I'm asking for the time off or anything," Richie clarified. "If I can just swop shifts or ."

"Rich," Duncan reached across the table, grasping his jaw gently and forcing him to make eye contact, as if the teen was an errant puppy. "I said, its fine. You've covered for Tess and I, often enough. Go."

"You sure?" Richie needed to know. "I mean, its really OK?" Richie looked at Tessa, who was looking distinctly unhappy.

"The race is this Saturday?" she asked.

"Um. Yeah," Richie was awkward. "I mean, I know its short notice and all .."

"Richie," Tessa looked genuinely upset. "I am so sorry. I have plans for this weekend. They were made months ago. I was going to tell you. I cannot cancel now. "

"Oh," Richie looked down at his plate, pushing the food around. Suddenly, the chicken did not look so appetising, after all. "Its cool, .." he began.

"That's alright," Duncan spoke up. "I'll just have to cheer twice as loud."

Richie looked up sharply.

"What?"

"Well, since Tess will be in Seattle, I'll just have to cheer twice as loud. For the both of us." Duncan clarified.

"You want to come? You still want me to go?" Richie floundered.

"Yes and Yes," Duncan grinned at him.

"But …" Richie wondered if the Immortal had really thought this through. "You'll have to close the Store. You'll lose a whole day's business."

"So?" Duncan shrugged.

"Mac .. these guys are good .. the best .. I .. well .. I could .. well, there aren't any guarantees."

"I know." Duncan said equably.

"You sure you're OK with this?"

"I think, I can afford it." Duncan teased.

Richie couldn't help but feel a warm glow. None of his foster parents had ever gone to any of his stuff. Except, Emily or Teresa and he always thought of them as family .. not carers. Well, no sense dwelling on that. As far as the authorities were concerned he was eighteen now and a adult. He had a warm bed to sleep in, a job and an above minimum wage, decent clothes to wear in the Store, three square meals a day and a not to mention a bottomless fridge and for the first time the chance at a future that didn't include a spell or two in jail. He didn't need parents any more. Not him.

So, why did Mac's offer mean so much to him?

"You don't gotta." Nonetheless, he smiled shyly.

"I'll be there," Duncan vowed. "You have my word on it, Tough Guy."

Richie dug into his chicken with renewed vigour. Yes, life really was good. Whoever would have thought it?