Many thanks (and virtual cookies!) to my reviewers: Vinmouse, Max2013, zenfrodo, LazyPanther, Caranath, ukfan101, Jilsen, Jennmc15, bhar, Xenitha, hlahabibty, KennaC, hollyboo2001, Guest, and SnowPrincess. Sorry for the delay in posting. Real life just keeps getting in the way. I decided to bump the story to four chapters and give everyone a Christmas present. – Leya


The morning was going well, Joe thought. Although Kara had gotten up at some ungodly hour to go running, he had been able to get back to sleep and stayed that way until it was past eight – a feat he had been unable to accomplish since late summer thanks to their most recent case – and had risen to the mouthwatering smell of roasting turkey. Breakfast had been pancakes and bacon, and – even better – his father had finished polishing the last of the silver while he was in the shower, so he wasn't stuck with the job.

The best part, though, was how much more relaxed Frank looked. While the dark circles under his eyes were still present, they had faded a bit, and his brother sat smiling fondly at Anna as she tried to duplicate the intricately folded napkins Aunt Gertrude was churning out, a softness in his eyes that Joe hadn't seen in far too long. Anna, the tip of her tongue sticking out from between her lips, had a look of intense concentration on her face as she watched the older woman's rapidly moving hands. Joe was pleased to see that she looked calmer and more relaxed as well.

Good, he thought. I'll bet she and Frank had a nice long talk last night. Or a nice long something. He fought to keep the smirk he felt coming on from appearing on his face and thought he had done a pretty good job until he felt the dishtowel flick against his arm. "Hey!" He turned to see Kara staring up at him, a look of disapproval on her face. "I didn't do anything! I'm just standing here."

"With that look on your face." She moved back toward the sink and grabbed the bowl Fenton had just placed in the dryer rack. "The one that screams, 'I'm up to something.' I'm surprised you manage to hide it so well when you're working."

"I have a look that says that?" He ran his fingers lightly across his cheekbones, frowning slightly.

"Yes, dear, you do," his mother said, smiling up at him from across the room where she was measuring cranberries. "And, Kara's right. It's all over your face right now."

Joe raised his hands in protest. "All I was doing was standing here minding my own business and thinking."

Frank turned to face him, one eyebrow raised, his lips curved in a small smile. "And we all know how dangerous that can be."

"Hey! Wait... I..." Joe could feel his face starting to turn red. He took a deep breath. "Okay, what's with the 'let's gang up on Joe' thing that seems to going on here? I'm not doing anything." He could hear the edge creeping into his voice, and his left foot started tapping the linoleum.

"I think that's the point, son." Fenton's tone was gentle and his eyes twinkled as he spoke, his right hand still moving in circular motions over the platter he was washing. "You're not doing anything. Everyone else has been working hard," he gestured with his chin at Kara, "and you don't seem to have started yet."

"Well, Frank's just sitting there." Joe jutted out his lower lip, annoyed with himself for acting this way but unable to stop the words from pouring out. "If I have to do something, so does he."

"Wow, little brother, way to act five," Frank said. He reached for his cane, and leaned on it. "And I'll have you know I did do something."

"Really?"

Aunt Gertrude looked up from her napkin, her hands still automatically making folds. "Your brother was very helpful. Given that we're having more guests than usual, he figured out the correct proportions for the flour and broth for the gravy." She sniffed. "Watery gravy is a culinary disgrace."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Probably used that slide rule," he muttered. "Freak," he said aloud. "Doing math on a holiday... Are you sure we're related?"

"Joseph!" The word rang out from three separate points in the room, followed by a muted "Yes!" from over by the dish drain.

"I know. I know. Three more days." Joe closed his eyes and sighed, one hand covering his face. With some effort he managed to get his foot to stop drumming and turned to his brother. "Sorry, 'bro."

Frank smiled. "I'll be magnanimous and help you set the table in the dining room, especially since I know Kara's planning to invite me to dinner while you're on dish duty. A lot." He rose from the table, barely managing to hide a grimace as he got to his feet, then swayed slightly as he straightened up. Anna put out a hand to help him. "I'm fine," he said, his lips tight, small lines coming into sharp focus around his eyes.

Joe felt a twinge of guilt. "You sit. I'll get the table."

"Are you sure?" Frank's voice sounded strained.

That got Joe's attention, and he examined his brother's face more carefully. Despite looking better, Frank was tired, the circles under his eyes diminished but still present. He blew out a puff of air. "No. I mean, yes. It's okay. I'll do it." He turned to his mother. "How many for dinner? And which dishes?"

"Well," Laura put down the orange in her hand, considering, "there's the seven of us, Sam and Ethel, Jack, Con, the Gardners, the Cohens, and the Mortons, so that's... Eighteen. Hmmm... " She stopped to think. "Why don't you use some of Grandma Evans's and Grandma Hardy's sets, dear. That should get us enough place settings."

Anna's head lifted from the napkin she was still trying to fold. "The Mortons? Is Chet with them?"

"No." Joe shrugged. "He's spending Thanksgiving with Marisol's family." He smiled at Kara. "Seems to be a lot of that going around. But it also means there'll be more of Mrs. Morton's pumpkin pie for me."

"I thought you wanted some of my pie. I made it special for you." Anna cocked her head to the side, obviously puzzled.

Frank snorted as he slowly lowered himself back in his chair. "You've seen him eat. He can handle both with no problem."

Joe grinned at her. "What can I say? I'm a growing boy. I need to keep my energy up." He turned toward Kara's stifled laugh. "I can eat your share, too, you know, so watch out."

Kara shook her head, laughter still bubbling from her lips. "Pumpkin pie? I'd like to see you try."

Gertrude sniffed again and sent a pointed glare in Joe's direction. "No one will be eating anything if the table isn't set." She looked down at Anna's attempt at napkin folding. "Almost, dear, but you want to do it like this." If Joe wasn't mistaken, his aunt's voice had taken on a softer note than usual. Deftly the older woman shook out the napkin and started over, Anna watching her every motion.

As Joe left, he saw Frank take one of Anna's hands in his own, intertwining their fingers, and smiled. He was sure Frank hadn't even realized what he was doing, which made it all the better.

He made his way down the hall closet, gingerly grabbed the two boxes of china, then moved carefully toward the dining room. Please no crashing sound. Please no crashing sound. An sigh of relief escaped his lips as he felt the edge of the table against his legs. Oh, thank G-d, he thought. I need to remember to do one box at a time. He stopped drumming his fingers against the table. Although I'm pretty sure I said that last time, too. Oh well.

He had just wrestled the first set of china from its quilted covers when he heard the thump and shuffle of Frank's footsteps behind him in the doorway.

"You hold the stack, I'll set them down. Fair?"

"No, it's good. I've got it." He fought with the zippered pouch on the second set, muttering to himself until it finally opened, built a stack of alternating colored plates on the table, then slid his hands under the entire thing, his knees buckling slightly at the weight. Man, these things are heavier than they look.

Frank eyed the trembling stack of china in his brother's arms with a dubious expression. "Really?"

"Yeah." Joe took a step forward, and the entire stack shifted, the top few plates sliding around in a precarious fashion. He leaned back so all the dishes tilted toward his chest. "No."

"Here. Hold still for a sec." Frank reached out with his free hand and grabbed the top plate, placing it gently on the white linen tablecloth. "Okay, next." They shuffled a few steps down to the next chair – Joe moving backwards, Frank still leaning heavily on his cane – so Frank could set the next plate down.

A few more stops and Joe was able to straighten up. He flexed his back and let out a sigh. "Oh yeah, that's better."

"Glad I could be of use." Frank let out a sigh of his own and turned his face away. "It's good to know there's still something I can do," he muttered, his lips barely moving.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." Frank brushed the words aside.

"You think you're not useful." Joe said the words so they weren't a question. "Frank, you're still in recovery mode. Remember that whole 'thrown off a mountain' thing?" Frank's face darkened, and Joe swore internally. "That came out wrong. What I meant was you have a broken leg, broken ribs, a fractured skull, for G-d's sake." He huffed out a breath. "When I got shot, it took months before I could put in a full day at work. You've been in the office working every day since you got back to the city. You have no idea how jealous I am that you're able to do that... Oh..." As the words came out of his mouth, something else clicked in his brain, his eyes widening with the realization. "... And that's probably why I've been riding you about your memory. Wow. You were right. As usual. Talk about being five."

Frank regarded him, his eyebrows knitting together. "Wait. You were...?"

Joe nodded, a faint flush starting to cover his cheeks. "Jealous. That – all things considered – you got back on your feet faster than I did. I guess... I guess my ego kind of got in the way." He swallowed hard, then lifted his eyes to meet his brother's. "Working with you sometimes feels like working with Superman. Which can be frustrating. Especially when Superman's your big brother."

For a long moment, Frank stared at him. Then he did the last thing Joe expected. He laughed.

Startled, Joe stepped backwards, pushing on one of the chairs and tilting it into the table. "Okay," he said. "Obviously I missed something here. Care to enlighten me?"

It took Frank a minute or so to get himself under control. Still snickering, he spread his free hand out palm up. "I've been coming into the office because I felt bad leaving you to deal with all the work while I was spending my time laying around on the couch watching TV." He snorted. "I've been living on aspirin and coffee during the day and crashing as soon as I get home every night."

"'Bro, you live on coffee anyway," Joe pointed out.

"I know, but the point is..."

Joe waved his hands in the air. "No, no. I get the point." He gestured at himself, then his brother. "The point is we're both idiots. Me for being jealous, and you for pushing yourself too hard."

Frank tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing, then relaxing. "That seems to sum it up nicely." He pursed his lips. "I'll make a deal with you. Unless we have an appointment – if I'm tired – I'll stay home."

"And if I need help, I'll call and wake you up." Joe put his hand out. "Deal?"

"Deal." They shook hands. "Now," Frank indicated the two boxes of china now sitting in the middle of the table, "we should probably finish this before people actually start arriving. We still have soup bowls, salad plates, and all that silverware to deal with, and I'm sure Mom and Aunt Gertrude will have a fit if it's not just right."

"Salad plates?"

"Just start unzipping more bags, little brother. I'll show you which ones they are." He paused. "You know, you really need to learn this stuff."

Joe stopped fighting with the bag and looked up, a smug expression on his face. "Why? That's what I have you for."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"I'm never doing this again," Joe said. "Who came up with all these rules about how many and what kind of plates you need at the table?" His right thumb started tapping on the table. "Next year, Thanksgiving will be a buffet with lots of environmentally-friendly, compostable paper plates. That'll make setup a breeze."

"Don't forget cleanup," Frank said, pulling out a chair and slowly lowering himself into it. He waved a hand at the table. "You know who's going to end up washing all these, right?" He nodded in the direction of the kitchen. "Mom and Kara had their heads together as I was heading in here."

A sour look appeared on Joe's face. "I'm getting the feeling my dishwashing servitude starts tonight. Great." His expression became speculative. "How about I wash, you dry?"

Frank stretched and yawned theatrically, his eyes laughing. "I don't know. I'm still feeling kind of tired."

"You're going to desert me in my hour of need?" The doorbell chimed somewhere in the background, but Joe ignored it, concentrating on making his expression look vulnerable and needy. "Dude, come on! You don't need to be standing to run a towel over some dishes. I'll pull a chair up next to the dish drain for you."

"Sitting comfortably and watching you work? Sounds tempting." Frank's expression grew somber. "But to be honest, I think I'll have to see how I'm feeling after..."

"Joe!" Laura's voice sounded from the living room. "Can you come here, please?"

He turned to the doorway. "Just a second! I'm talking to Frank."

There was a long pause, and Joe thought he heard a faint chuckle. "No, dear. Now." The last word was said in a tone that meant business.

Joe cocked an eyebrow at Frank. "What did I do?"

Frank shrugged back at him. "This time? Beats me, but if I were you, I'd hightail it in there before she starts giving you more nights of dishwashing. Go. I'll catch up."

"Good point." He walked briskly down the hallway. "On my way. What's..." The rest of the question was cut off by a large brown and blue blur that tackled him around his chest. "Oof. Hey!" He managed to disentagle himself and gently push the projectile out to arm's length, then smiled. "Benj! Hey, did you get taller? It's only been a couple of weeks!" Benj's hands flew, forming words faster than Joe could translate. "Whoa, buddy, slow down. I'm out of practice. And what happened to those words you were using back at the hospital?"

"Beniam, give him some space." The man's voice was firm and brusque.

A woman's hand appeared on Benj's shoulder and gently propelled the boy back a few steps. "Let Mr. Hardy breathe, sweetheart."

"No, it's okay. And it's Joe." He smiled widely, trying to encompass all three of the Gardners, then leaned down and winked at Benj. "Mr. Hardy's in the kitchen."

"Joe, then." Emily Gardner's voice was soft and held an edge of uncertainty in it. She leaned close to her son's ear. "Try that again, sweetie."

Benj moved his hands closer to his chest. /Parents,/ he signed, rolling his eyes even as he made sure to keep the motions small and hidden. He took a breath. "Hi, Joe. Thanks for inviting us." The French accent was still present, but fainter than it had been.

"Really?" Joe raised an eyebrow at him. "I liked the first greeting better. Come here." He reached out and pulled the boy close, engulfing him in a bear hug. "You're welcome," he said softly. "It's good to see you." Benj wriggled free, and Joe ruffled his hair. "Now you need to explain how you got this much taller in the short time since I've seen you."

"I've been...," Benj's hands fluttered at his sides, "eating." He signed the word as he spoke it.

Laura sighed and shook her head ruefully. "I remember that stage," she said to Emily and Peter. "I thought Joe was going to eat me out of house and home. He grew four inches one summer." She put a hand to her forehead. "And the clothes!" She shook her head. "It seemed like he outgrew his shoes and pants overnight." She shook her head and shuddered at the memory. "Why don't you give Joe your coats. I have to check on the turkey, but we can compare notes when I get back." She disappeared into the kitchen

"Mom," Joe raised his voice while holding out his arms, "I'm sure Benj's parents don't want to hear about my growth spurts."

A thumping noise came from behind him. "Sure they do, little brother. It's a great cautionary tale of bad moods and empty refrigerators." Frank came up beside Joe and clapped him on the shoulder. He inclined his head to the Gardners. "Peter, Emily. It's good to see you." Without waiting for a response, he turned to Benj. "Good to see you, too, Benj. How's Sunny?"

Joe watched as the expressions of all three Gardners changed, Emily's face resolute but growing pale, Peter's lips forming a hard line, and Benj's eyes going wide, his mouth dropping open.

The boy swallowed, his eyes still on Frank's face. /You look.../ His hands fell, then moved again slowly, his expression confused. /Where are your glasses?/

Frank's eyes softened. "I'm fine, Benj. Everything's all right, and the doctors say I'll be without this," he indicated the cane, "any time now." His smile was gentle. "But I wasn't kidding at school. I don't know sign, so I have no idea what you just said." He glanced at Joe whose arms were now full of coats. "And since I just heard Joe say he's out of practice, I'd rather not have to rely on his rusty translating skills. You'll have to help me out."

Benj nodded. "She's fine. She said to say hello." He spoke the words haltingly, his eyes still glued to Frank's face.

"I'm glad she's doing okay. When you get back to school, tell her I said hi back."

"Where are your glasses?" This time the words exploded from the boy's mouth, his face alight with curiosity, a slight flush reddening the dark skin of his cheeks.

Joe let out the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding and chuckled, the door of the coat closet shutting with an audible click.

"I don't wear glasses," Frank answered. "It was all part of the disguise."

Benj tilted his head to the side, considering. "It worked. No one at school would have believed you were this cool."

"Cool?" Joe snorted. At Frank's glare, he tried to turn the sound into a cough.

Anna chose that moment to run out of the kitchen, displaying one of the intricately folded napkins on the palms of her open hands. "I did it!" Her face glowed with triumph. "Look, Frank, I did it! Your aunt said..." She broke off, noticing the guests. "Oh..."

"It looks great, Anna," Frank said, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Aunt Gertrude must be very pleased."

"Yeah," Joe chimed in, "we were never interested in learning that particular skill. Now she's got you to teach." Frank shot him a dry look. "What? It'll keep her off our backs."

Anna stuck her tongue out at Joe, then turned back to Frank with a radiant smile. "I need to bring it back. We're going to go put them in the dining room now." She turned and practically danced into the kitchen.

Joe felt a tugging on his arm.

Benj's eyes were saucer-wide, focused intently on Anna's retreating form. Without changing position, his hands slowly formed words. /Is that who I think it is?/

"That depends," Joe bent slightly, speaking softly into Benj's ear, his lips barely moving. "Is Anala still smuggling those movie magazines into class?" Benj nodded. "Then it's who you think it is. She's Frank's girlfriend."

The boy's mouth dropped open again. "No way," he mouthed. He lifted his eyes to meet Joe's /Sunny's gonna freak./

There was a throat-clearing sound from over Joe's head, and he lifted his gaze to find Frank glaring at him again.

"Joe, can you come here?" Kara's voice called from the kitchen. "Your aunt asked me to get down the turkey platter, and I can't reach it."

"Is that Kara?" Benj's expression brightened.

Joe nodded. "She came for Thanksgiving. Just like you. Why?"

"I liked her." The boy's face took on an overly innocent expression. "She's pretty. And she liked me, too. I could tell."

Joe's eyes narrowed. "Great, competition. Just remember. She's my girlfriend. Keep your hands off."

Benj flashed a grin at him and bolted for the kitchen. "Hi, Kara!"

As he turned to follow, Joe looked a question at his brother. You going to be okay?

Frank's answering nod was almost imperceptible.

Joe gave him a long look, then followed after Benj. "Hey, wait up! And I wasn't kidding about hands off!"