"I don't think this is a good idea, princess."

Abel smoothed the front of Cain's dark green sweater and offered a reassuring smile. "Give them a chance. They're willing to give you one."

"I will," Cain griped half-heartedly. "But they won't like me." He tugged at his collar, unconsciously mimicking Abel's efforts to straighten his appearance.

"They'll like you," Abel said, not for the first time but dearly hoped it was true. He looked around their modest kitchen and dining area, counting off fingers as he started to talk. "The table's all set and the pasta is ready, mom's favorite wine is out, everything's clean –"

"Nobody's naked," Cain added helpfully, smirking.

Abel smiled at him before he continued. "Nobody's naked, and dessert just went in the oven. Right, I think… that's it."

Cain pushed up his sleeves and leaned against the kitchen counter. "You're as nervous as I am."

Abel shrugged, but he nodded after a moment. "We've only been in this apartment for three weeks; I feel like I haven't had enough time to really, you know, make it homey."

"You mean you're worried they'll think it's a shitty place," Cain said, not quite asking.

Abel sighed. "Yeah. That."

Cain opened his mouth to reply that their apartment was nicer than any place he had lived as a kid, but knocking cut him off. He glanced toward the wall that hid the front door from the kitchen. "You answer."

Abel nodded and turned to kiss Cain on the cheek. "Please," he emphasized, not for the first time, "try not to cuss too much, and don't smoke inside, and please, please, don't grope me or anything while they're here."

"I know, I know," Cain scoffed. "We've been through this. Open the friggin' door already."

Taking a deep breath, he spared one last look for the room, double-checking that everything was in order, and went to the modest foyer. When he opened the front door, he smiled, but he had to fight down the nervous flutters in his stomach. "Hi, Mom, Dad," he greeted, stepping aside for them to enter. "We're glad you could make it."

Cheryl gave her son a warm hug. "Us too! It smells great. Italian?"

"Yeah," Abel told her proudly. "I tried a popular local recipe. I hope it's edible."

"I'm sure it's fine," Thomas said off-handedly. "God knows I can't cook without burning everything. The place is still standing; you must have your mother's knack for it."

Abel laughed. "We'll see. Here, let me have your coats."

His mother chatted amiably while she removed her thick fur wrap, careful not to twist her pearl bracelets. "Your father and I saw a deer on the way here. Can you believe that? I haven't seen one in years. And- oh." She peered over Abel's shoulder when Cain came into view, offering a hesitant smile. "You must be Nikolai."

Coats in hand, Abel stepped back, feeling his stomach flutter again. "Mom, Dad, this is Nik. Nik, my parents, Thomas and Cheryl."

Cain walked over, shoulders straight and back somewhat tense, as though his training in the military was an instinctual defense against meeting "the parents." He stopped just a couple of feet away and nodded. "Nice to meet you," he said, and there was a slight pause before he remembered to hold out a hand.

There was another pause, this one just as awkward, before Thomas offered his own hand; and both of their grips were tense. "Likewise," Thomas said, voice carefully neutral.

Cheryl gave a flutter of her fingers, accustomed to the way her pearls rung softly against her wrist. "Ethan must have practiced these past few days. Last time we talked, he kept slipping and calling you 'Cain'. Poor thing kept having to correct himself."

Cain finally allowed himself to relax enough to smirk at that; around others, they were Nikolai and Ethan, as they had been and as they would be, but around each other, Cain and Abel still felt natural, a piece of the past they could share in private. "It's no big deal," he told them. "I'll probably slip a few times too."

Cheryl gave a soft, hollow laugh, uncomfortable with the reminder that her son had once been an "Abel" instead of her "Ethan." It was a fake sound, one that made Abel briefly look away, and Cain tried to pretend he didn't notice the way Thomas' expression never broke from stoic.

Abel finally broke the tense silence that followed and motioned to the rest of the apartment. "Well, come in, make yourselves comfortable."

Cheryl nodded, looking at once curious and amused as she glanced around at the small office table and cramped bookshelves that separated the foyer from the other rooms. She stopped in the kitchen, face bright with the evening light streaming through the window above the sink. "It's darling."

Thomas stood by her side, eyes lingering on the cheap linoleum floor. "It's kind of small. And old."

Cain felt a flush of anger and shame, a swipe of heat beneath his cheeks and along his throat, but he kept quiet. Abel's blush was enough of a reply for both of them anyway, he thought.

"It's the best we can afford right now," Abel said, trying to keep from sounding stiff. "We'll touch it up a bit until we can look someplace nicer, but for now, this is home."

Cheryl patted her son's arm, "You know you can always ask for help."

Thomas frowned, opened his mouth to argue that, but Abel spoke first: "No. Nik and I are going to support ourselves. We'll get by on our own work." He reached into the cupboard and pulled out four glasses, hoping his mother didn't press the issue. "Wine? I bought Merlot."

Thomas nodded shortly at the wine, waving a dismissive hand as he sat down and picked up the conversation. "You'll get there. You're smart. Were you able to get in touch with Davenport at the Earthpoint Engineering office?"

Abel flushed a little and shot a quick look at Cain. "Um, yeah, actually. I have an interview this Thursday."

Cain frowned, leaning back against the counter so he didn't have to sit across from Abel's father. "This is the first I've heard of any interview," he said slowly, careful to keep his tone even.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Abel told him, offering a little smile laced with pride as he poured wine. "It's a nice place, and I'd get to work on connections between here and the colonies."

"Where do you work?" Thomas asked suddenly, looking coldly at Cain, who reached into the fridge for a beer.

"Mom and Pop's diner just a few miles away," he answered, shrugging. "Good coffee, cheap food."

"Oh, well, at least it's something," Cheryl said optimistically. "What are your career plans?"

"I don't think he has any, dear," Thomas said, taking a sip of Merlot.

"Dad! That was rude."

"Well, does he?" his father asked, looking at Cain when Abel continued to look offended.

Cain gritted his teeth, told himself he had expected as much and that it wasn't worth a fight, not when Abel wanted this so much, not when a cutting word wouldn't be worth it at the end of the day. "Not currently."

Thomas spread one hand, as if to say he figured as much.

Abel's scowl slipped as watched Cain, expression softening with sympathy as he thought about the truth behind Cain's efforts, about the grim reputation that the Alliance fighters had carried to their homes, the struggles and prejudices that accompanied background checks now that the war was over and people couldn't remember how those brash, uncultured, violent fighters had fought for their safety. The last few months hadn't been easy for either of them, but for Cain, it had been worse.

"I'm proud of him," Abel said, giving his father a stern look before turning a soft smile to Cain, earning surprised expressions from both.

"Of course you are!" Cheryl said, smoothly interrupting before Thomas could reply. "Now, Abel, you have to tell me what you've cooked. It smells great."

Her son nodded, slightly relieved by the change of topics, and walked with her to the stove.

Cain watched as Abel started motioning over the different pots on the counter, half-hoping the dish would end up tasting like crap so the crones would hurry up and leave. He could practically feel Thomas staring at him, see that stony expression in his peripheral, those sharp blue eyes and pale blonde hair like a bitter reminder that Abel was too good for him; Thomas certainly thought so.

"…pasta they serve locally," Abel was saying. "It's pretty spiced, but the meat was marinated with this cranberry vinegar, so it's really complemented. I got the recipe from a neighbor. And with it –" He paused and looked over the counter.

Cheryl blinked curiously. "What's wrong?"

"The bread…" He ran a hand through his hair. "Oh no, I forgot to get the bread."

Cain shrugged, didn't want this night to be drawn out any longer than it had to be. "No big deal."

"He's right, Ethan," Cheryl said. "It's okay."

Abel hesitated. "It's really good with the pasta though, and the store's right down the road…"

Cain rolled his eyes, knowing he was about to become the errand boy. "Look, prin- eh, Abel… Ethan, it's a bit late for me to run out."

Abel nodded. "I'll get it. I know which type to get."

"I'll go with you!" Cheryl told him. "I'd love to see what the little grocery store looks like."

Thomas stood up, careful not to knock over his glass of wine. "I'll go too, then."

"Well, we don't all need to go, Tom. You and Nikolai stay, Ethan and I will be back soon."

"Wait –" Cain and Thomas said, nearly simultaneously, and they shot each other aggravated looks.

Abel hesitated, worried that he might come back to an injured father or a chain smoking, Russian-trash-talking Cain, but before he could suggest an alternative his mother was tugging on his arm. "Come on, Ethan. Let these two get to know each other. We'll be back in just a bit."

Abel gave a slow, uncertain nod before grabbing his wallet. "Okay, um… If you need anything, Dad, make yourself at home. Nik, remember to take the shortcake out of the oven, okay?"

Cain snorted but agreed, and Thomas let out a short sigh.

Then it was just the two of them, and the apartment had never been smaller.