Disclaimer: This really isn't mine.

A/n: I've been trying to work on this chapter for awhile now, and got a review tonight that finally spurred me to finish it. I'd really like to thank all of my reviewers because your feedback is incredible motivation for me to keep writing. I hope you enjoy this.

Perseus and Andromeda Up in the Sky

A story by Ryeloza

Chapter Three

Tom straightened his tie for the second time, trying and failing to keep his focus on his own reflection when out of the corner of his eye he could see Lynette rubbing lotion on her bare legs. She was still in a towel, hair up in curlers, and Tom really wished this was one of those times where he could use a few well-placed kisses to convince her to skip the night out. The whole day, though, there had been something lighter about her, an excitement about tonight that showed in her smile, and nothing could make him spoil that rare ease of spirit.

Then, like a gunshot shattering the comfortable silence between them, there was a loud crash downstairs. Tom flinched; Lynette was up and halfway to the door before he even realized what had happened. "Hey! Hey, hang on a second!" he called, closing the distance between them and catching her by the elbow before she could go leave. In a space of three seconds, stress had resurfaced on her face like a storm cloud. "Don't go down there."

"I have to. God only knows what they broke."

"I will go down and deal with it," he said, kissing her forehead and stepping past her before she could protest. "Don't worry about it."

Lynette's brow creased, speaking volumes without her actually saying anything, but he left the room without contest. In the hall, the shrieks of the kids were much more audible, and Tom sighed as he headed downstairs. The likelihood that he and Lynette would get out of the house unscathed was slim to none, a suspicion that was confirmed the second he stepped into the living room.

Parker and Porter were screaming at each other and wrestling, an overturned end table clearly the source of the crash they'd heard upstairs. Only adding to the noise was the television; Kayla sat there consistently pumping up the volume in an attempt to block out her brothers screams. Preston was nowhere in sight, but Tom thought that could only be a bad sign. Not even bothering to try to break up the fight verbally, he stepped over, caught Parker around the waist, and pried him off of his brother.

"All right!" he shouted over the noise. Parker was still throwing punches into the air, and Tom had no choice but to set him down on the couch and physically block him in. "Kayla," he snapped, "turn off the TV."

With a disdainful scowl, Kayla simply turned down the volume; considering the mutinous look on Parker's face, Tom didn't have much choice but to ignore her disobedience. "What is going on?" he demanded, catching Porter by the shoulder as he tried to skulk out of the room.

"He stole my action figure—"

"Did not!"

"Did to!"

"Okay! Stop! Now!"

Both boys shut their mouths, but continued to glare daggers at one another; Tom blew out a frustrated sigh. They would choose tonight to fight like this; it was only fitting.

"Can I turn up the volume now?"

"No," said Tom, barely glancing at his daughter. It was in that brief look, however, that something caught his eye, and he turned back to Kayla with wide eyes. "What are you eating?"

"Chocolate."

"Where did you…" He didn't need to complete the thought. Warily, he addressed the boys again. "Did you guys have chocolate too?"

"Grandma said we could have an after dinner snack."

"Yeah," snorted Tom. "Of course Grandma said. Where is Grandma?" Without waiting for an answer, Tom raised his voice and called for Stella. In the interminable pause that followed, Kayla tried to turn up the volume again. Annoyed, Tom grabbed the remote and turned off the television, not at all perturbed when Kayla stormed out of the room. It was almost a relief to know that she'd spend the rest of the night sulking in her room. Distracted by his daughter, he didn't notice that Stella had come out of the bathroom until he heard her clear her throat.

"What's up?"

"Did you—" Tom trailed off as Preston scuffed into the kitchen. He held a washcloth up to his nose, the rag soaked through with blood. "What the hell happened?" he asked, forgetting Porter and Parker and hurrying over to Preston. Fortunately, the other two seemed more interested in the blood than each other.

Stella shrugged. "I don't know. They were wrestling."

"Porter kneed me in the nose!"

Tom tugged the towel away, grateful to see that the bleeding seemed to have stopped. "He's fine," said Stella nonchalantly. "Kids bleed."

Hands shaking, Tom took Preston by the shoulder and dragged him to the sink so he could wash off the blood that was caked around his nose and lip. If Lynette saw this, the explosion would be apocalyptic to say the least. "Did you give them chocolate?" he asked, trying to keep the tremor of anger out of his voice.

"Yeah. You get them high on sugar, and they'll crash early."

"You get them high on sugar at this time of night and they end up trying to kill each other. That's why we never let them have anything after five."

"Well you're going out for the evening, so I'm the one dealing with this."

"But you're not," said Tom, straightening up and throwing the washcloth into the sink. "I'm the one dealing with it. Just me."

The boys exchanged looks, clearly put off by his sharp words. He didn't lose his temper often, and even more rarely in front of the kids, so their mixed expressions of awe and fear weren't entirely unexpected. Managing to momentarily quell his fury for their sakes, he barked at them to go upstairs and put on their pajamas.

"It's still light out," Porter whined, but Parker gave him a shove and Preston rolled his eyes, and that seemed to be enough to end any protests. They trudged upstairs without further complaint, apparently too distracted by the adults to remember that they'd been at each other's throats minutes before.

"Tom, this is not a big deal," said Stella dismissively. He was surprised that she had to good grace to wait until the boys were out of earshot. "They're fine."

Tom barely heard her; he could hardly acknowledge that she was even still there. He simply shook his head, sinking down into one of the kitchen chairs and burying his head in his hands. "I can't do this," he said, a shaky laugh echoing in his voice. "I can't—I can't do this without her."

The words hung in the air with the heaviness of all verboten admittances. It wasn't like confessing; it wasn't an easing of guilt—something he had been repressing until he could no longer keep it a secret. This was something that had been buried so deeply inside of him that he hadn't even realized he'd been thinking it until this moment. And he couldn't take it back; he couldn't forget an epiphany.

Suddenly, it felt like such a very real possibility that he thought he might be sick.

Stella didn't say anything. After a long stretch of silence, she went to the sink, briefly squeezing his shoulder as she passed. In some strange way, the gesture made everything better and worse all at once. Comfort, but not reassurance. He wanted both; he was never going to get the latter.

Lynette's heels were clicking on the stairs, and Tom hurriedly wiped his eyes and stood, plastering a fake smile on his face. Fortunately, Lynette was fiddling with her purse as she came into the room, not taking any notice of his emotional state. "You ready?" she asked, clasping her purse and glancing at him.

He stared at her for a long moment. She was wearing a slinky teal dress that made her eyes look even brighter blue than usual, hair down in loose waves over her shoulders. "You," he said, exhaling softly, "look beautiful."

She smiled—this soft, genuine, loving smile that made his heart beat faster—and pulled him down for a brief kiss. "You okay?" she whispered.

"Yeah," Tom lied. The truth was that she was a distraction from and a reminder of what was going on all at once, and he didn't know how to possibly begin to sort through his confusion. Gently, he gave her another kiss, forcing his thoughts aside and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Let's go."