A/N: At long last, the muse in charge of "Family Traditions" has loosened her vice-grip, and I've wriggled free for a moment, anyway. That story just sank its teeth in and wouldn't let go! Hopefully I will be updating here more often now as I am trying to alternate between them, but in actuality, it will probably depend on which of the two storylines wins the throwdown in my imagination.... For the time-being, we pick up with Mary, Marshall, and Margaret where we left them so long ago....

Since there is nothing so well worth having as friends, never lose a chance to make them.

~Francesco Guicciardini

Anyone can be passionate, but it takes real lovers to be silly.

~Rose Franken

Margaret brought the piece to a close with a sense of quiet satisfaction, lifting her fingertips from the keys, wrists arched, a tiny smile on her face as the last of the notes hovered and faded. As she became aware of a world outside her music again, she realized quite some time had passed since Mary had stormed through the living room toward the guest room, phone in hand, murder written in every line of her being.

I wonder if she worked it out or if there will be tiny little pieces of Marshall to sweep under the rug later on. I guess I should go stick my head in and check on them. I'd hate to think they killed each other and I didn't even notice it. How would I explain it to the Marshal Service?

Margaret replaced her music in its rack, slid the bench beneath the piano, and quietly walked down the hall. She paused before the door to the guest room, hesitant to invade, uncertain whether or not what was going on between her two Marshals was truly a private situation or whether or not the two of them were continuing to live in the denial they had been so firmly entrenched in when she had last been with them. Well, at least Mary, anyway, Margaret corrected herself mentally. I think Marshall pretty much knows how he feels....

The door to the room was open a little bit, and Margaret decided she could surreptitiously peek in to avoid a potentially embarrassing situation. She stepped forward and looked through the small space to see Mary and Marshall tussling on the bed, Mary mercilessly tickling a squirming, giggling, and mostly shirtless Marshall. Margaret felt her eyes roll, and she sighed. Kid's night, is it? What IS it with these two? Come on. I mean, are they six? Next, he'll be pulling her hair and running away, and she'll be punching him and calling him names. Wait. They do that already.... Well, at least everybody in there is still alive.

She was about to step away from the door and leave them to whatever form of flirting they chose when Marshall suddenly flipped Mary over and captured her lips with his own in a very grown-up, very hungry kiss. Margaret felt herself blush bright red, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth as she gasped in embarrassed shock. Marshall's hands, which had pinned Mary's to stop her tickling when he'd flipped her, suddenly were sliding down her body seeking the edge of the red sweater Mary was wearing. Mary's freed hands wasted no time in streaking up Marshall's back underneath the unbuttoned shirt, and Margaret was suddenly backpedaling away from the door as she heard one of them make a soft growling noise.

Ohgodohgodohgod...so very much too much information. Going to have that burned into my head until I die.

Margaret, being Margaret, could not make a clean getaway. In her haste to flee the intimate scene, she bumped into the console table in the hall with her hip, and a small glass vase filled with pebbles and cut stems of her geraniums crashed to the floor. She spun to look at the mess on the floor, and in desperation she quickly knelt beside it. A moment later, she heard the door behind her open.

"Margaret? What happened? Are you okay?"

Margaret's face was flaming red, a shade she hated because she knew it clashed with her hair as she turned and looked at them. They were coming down the hall together, Mary leading, Marshall behind her. He's still buttoning his shirt...Ohgodohgod...I'm just mortified.... They were looking at her uncertainly, judging her distance from the door and undoubtedly trying to figure out whether or not she'd seen them.

"Uhm....yeah. I'm fine." She was aware that her voice had a high, unnatural, strained sound to it. I'm going to lie, which I don't like to do, but here, I think it will be much less painful all the way around. "I was coming down the hall to see if you guys wanted to have lunch before we went out to take care of some errands this afternoon. I guess I had a bout of extra-clumsiness, because I just crashed right into this poor little table here, and …." She gestured weakly to the puddle of water on the floor and the smashed vase, forcing a smile. Come on, Margaret. You can act better than this.

Marshall, seeing there was no immediate threat and heartened by the promise of food in the near future, slid past them toward the kitchen. "I'll go get something to clean that up with. Be careful when you stand. There's glass everywhere."

Mary continued to watch Margaret with very assessing eyes as she knelt and started picking up large pieces of glass. She didn't say anything until after Marshall came back and gave them a broom and dustpan.

"Marshall, why don't you see if you can get lunch started. Margaret, what were you going to prepare? Marshall can actually cook, so maybe he can get things going there while we finish up here. You'll need to change those jeans, anyway, since you've soaked the knee with this water."

Margaret told Marshall where to find the ingredients to get lunch going and she and Mary continued to clean up the debris. When the last of the glass was swept away, Mary pulled Margaret to her feet. Margaret was headed to her room when Mary's voice trailed to her. Escape....

"Oh look, the console needs to be put back in place, too. Help me won't you, Margaret?"

She stepped over, lifted the end and they slid it easily into its customary spot.

Mary looked down at it and then smiled up at Margaret. It was a strange smile. "So you were coming down the hall from the living room, right?"

Margaret blinked. "That's what I said."

"Because, you see, the way we just moved it? The position it was in? It couldn't have been forced like that by someone who was coming from the living room, Margaret. Only somebody coming up the hall from, oh, say, the guest room, would have been able to hook the console and move it like it was just now."

Margaret swallowed again. Well, hell. And why did I think that I could slip that past Mary?

"So would you like to revise your story?" Mary smiled that smile again, the one that had far too many teeth and not enough safety in it.

Marshall's voice came to them from the kitchen. "What are you two doing? Hurry up! I don't think you want to turn me loose in here all by myself...."

Mary shot over her shoulder without taking her eyes from Margaret's, "Sure we do. We trust you. Besides, if it's crap, we'll make you eat it and we'll order take out." Marshall's muttered exclamation was drowned out by the clattering of pots and pans from the kitchen. "Margaret and I have to go find something clean and dry for her to wear." She grabbed Margaret's arm and dragged her past the arch to the livingroom toward her bedroom. Margaret flashed a glance at a bemused looking Marshall stirring and sauteing.

When the door to her bedroom was closed, Margaret moved to sit on the bed, and Mary leaned back against the door, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Spill. What did you see?"

"What was there that you are getting so worked up about my possibly having seen?" shot back Margaret, growing tired of being treated in such a high-handed manner by Mary all of a sudden.

Mary's eyes narrowed, and then suddenly, she smiled, a real smile, and Margaret saw some of the tension go out of her. Mary walked over and sat down on the bed. "Jesus. I'm acting like a real idiot here. I'm sorry, Margaret. I'm in your house, and I'm acting like an ass."

Margaret looked at her suspiciously for a moment, and then she smiled a smile of her own. "Yeah. Yeah, you are. But I forgive you. I think you've probably had a rather trying day."

Mary looked at her candidly. "You saw Marshall and me, didn't you?"

Margaret gave up the story just as candidly. It felt better, anyway. "Yes."

"Why did you lie?"

"Because I was trying to prevent an embarrassing scene. I really had walked down just to check in on you two. You had come in so angry, and I knew from the moment you two arrived that something was wrong. You weren't acting normally. The door was open a bit, and so I decided just to peek in, but when I saw something so private, I tried to get away...." Margaret sighed. "You know what kind of luck I have with things like that."

Mary nodded thoughtfully. "I'm sorry I reacted so badly. I...have had... a lot of bad experience with people who lie. I needed to find out what was going on. Once I saw the console table, I knew the story wasn't what you said it was, and I couldn't figure out why you would lie to us about something so trivial. You'd be surprised what becomes un-trivial all of a sudden when you start to worry about something....."

Margaret looked at Mary and said hesitantly, "Now that you know that I know...."

Mary's lips quirked, "Why does that sound like the beginning of a joke of some kind?" She laughed a little and then sighed. "Yeah, okay. Now that I know that you know....What do you want to know?"

Margaret shook her head, reached out and gently patted Mary's hand. She leaned in and kissed Mary on the cheek as a sister would, at least as a sister might if Mary had had a sister who wasn't a screaming drama queen. "I just wanted to say that I'm very happy for you both. I've always wondered what you two were waiting for. That's all."

She stood and went to her closet to find a pair of jeans that weren't soaked with plant debris and water, leaving Mary sitting on the foot of the bed smiling rather foolishly to herself.

---

They went back into the kitchen a little while later to find Marshall immersed in his cooking. He saw them entering the living room, and he shooed them out of the kitchen.

"No, no, no! You two merry well told me to come start lunch and when I begged for help, you threw me to the wolves. Now you're going to reap what you've sown, ladies. Get out. You will be called when you are wanted." He dismissed them with an imperial wave of the spatula. "Why don't you two go set the table outside? That will be a good use for you."

Mary narrowed her eyes at him. "Bossy as hell, isn't he, when he gets a little taste of power? Have to do something about that later, oh yes indeed...." She did, however, go with Margaret over to the area where the elements for setting the table were kept. Margaret left the room with a handful of cutlery and napkins. Mary took down the plates and followed. She returned to get some glasses a moment later after putting down her load. Margaret was busily arranging the items on the worn little metal patio set.

Mary sniffed the air as she returned to the kitchen. It didn't smell bad at all. She knew from experience that Marshall could cook, but she had no idea what he was up to here and now, had no idea even what ingredients might be in the tiny kitchen. Was that beef?

"Okay, slick," she said, sidling up behind him, trying to peer over his shoulder at the pans on the stove. "But remember what I said earlier. If it's crap, you're eating it, and Margaret and I get to order takeout. And I'm not sharing."

He glanced to the door to make sure Margaret was still outside, and he turned his head and said in a low tone pitched for her ears only, "Have I ever failed to satisfy any of your appetites?"

She smiled a wicked grin, "I don't know. This is the first time I've tried you in the kitchen." Unable to resist, she slipped her hands down to slide them in his back pockets, squeezing his behind as she did so and leaning in to nuzzle his neck behind his ear.

His breath hitched slightly, but his only other response was that arched brow. "Wicked, wicked woman. Now you're just trying to distract me. Go on and get out of here, or we're going to have two problems."

She laughed, and the warm rush of her breath fanned over his neck, making his eyes close with the pleasure of it. "And those would be?" Her fingers flexed in his back pockets.

"Well, ruined lunch for one, because I'm about to toss you onto the countertop and satisfy another hunger if you keep doing what you're doing right now. I have to say that by the time I'm done, this will all likely be very, very burned." He lay down the spatula carefully and turned in her arms to capture her mouth in a kiss.

"Mmm...well, can't say that doesn't actually sound like fun," she purred when he stepped back a little. "But I'm curious. What would problem two be?"

He smiled a little and looked out at the yard again. "A shocked hostess. I don't want to add more stress to Margaret's life than she already has. She did request us specially, and after what she went through with Thompson and Baum, I would hate for her to walk in on us, well...making lunch..."

Mary just looked at him a minute, and she started to giggle. The giggle became a full-fledged laugh. The laugh became a howl, and she was clinging to him gasping for breath.

"Mary, what in the world is wrong with you? What did I say?"

"You. You are classic, Marshall Mann. Look. Let me just tell you this. Margaret has already seen us... um...how shall I put this so as not to offend any of the delicate sensibilities that seem to be so rampant around this household...doing the prepwork....earlier today."

"She saw us what? Oh... OH....oh....." Marshall's ears started to turn red, and he began to blink.

"Yeah."

"So...the vase in the hall.... Oh."

"Uh-huh. See, you do catch on eventually."

He turned back to the stove and picked up the spatula again, stirring the mixture in the skillet. "Was she upset about it?"

Why do I suddenly feel like Margaret is our child who just walked in on Mommy and Daddy for the first time? This is absurd. We were just kissing....

"Uh, not so much, no. She actually basically asked me why the hell we waited so long to get around to it."

Marshall's eyes shot to hers where she was leaning against the counter, amused grin still dancing across her lips. An incredulous smile of his own appeared, but the embarrassed pink still rode his ears and neck. Aww...isn't he cute? Makes me want to snuggle and cuddle him when he's all flustered like that. And other things not quite so nurturing.....

"Well, that was...unexpected...."

"Umm-hmm...."

"So. What now?"

"So," she said, pushing herself off the counter and leaning in close to him, "now, you finish lunch, Margaret and I go wait for you to serve us, and then we all go to town to run some errands."

He smiled softly, and his eyes dropped to her lips before coming back up to meet hers again. "And after that?" His tone was low, gentle, and something in it sent little frissons up her spine.

"After that, I guess we play it by ear." She leaned in and pressed a quick gentle kiss to his mouth before turning and heading back out to the patio where Margaret was waiting.

---

Lunch, as it happened, was excellent. Marshall had made a throw-together meal with some left-over steak he'd found in the refrigerator and served it over some rice with some vegetables. They ate and talked, laughed, reminisced, and planned.

As they finished up, Mary pushed her plate away from her and exclaimed, "Jesus, Marshall, if I'd known you could do this, I'd have had you in the kitchen every night."

He raised that brow and looked at her over the rim of his soda glass. "Well, Mary, you can have all of me anywhere you want any night at all, but do you really think it's polite to say in front of Margaret?"

It was such a natural comeback, one of his lascivious teases, something that they would have said a million times in front of anybody, really, Stan, Jinx, even probably Raph before all that came to a crashing ruin, but their new status suddenly made everyone at the table suddenly freeze uncomfortably and stare at one another, gazes instantly dropping. A total silence descended on the little group unbroken for a moment except by the sound of the neighborhood and the wind through the treetops.

Marshall's neck and ears started to turn red, and he started to stutter, trying to correct his inadvertent faux pas, and Margaret looked down at her hands, biting her lip. Mary's lips started to quiver, and she started to giggle. She tried to stifle it, but when she looked at Margaret and saw her shoulders shaking, she burst out with a loud guffaw. Margaret caught her eye out of the corner of her own and Margaret started to giggle. The two women then looked at Marshall who was staring at them as if they were possessed.

"Have him in the kitchen, then Mary, go ahead. It's my kitchen...and...and....I say...it's okay!," Margaret managed, and then dissolved into helpless laughter. Marshall covered his bright red face in his hands and looked at them between his fingers. Mary was slumped over on the table she was laughing so hard.

"Crazy....both of you. Completely crazy." Marshall pulled the shreds of his dignity around him like a tattered cloak and gathered the dishes from the table. He stalked off toward the kitchen with them.

"Aww, come on, Marshall. Don't be that way," wheezed Mary. "Don't stalk off to hide in the kitchen and wash the dishes and lick your wounded pride."

Marshall's voice trailed back through the opening. "I have no intention of washing anything, I assure you. Don't forget the first great rule of cooking. I cook, you clean. I'm making myself some coffee and cutting myself a slice of this cake. Everything else is strictly your problem."

Mary's laughter abruptly died as she and Margaret thought about how many pots and pans Marshall had used in the making of their meal.

Margaret looked at her. "He does know how to get his revenge, doesn't he?"

"Yeah. Sneaky, too, with it. I think he's been around me too long...." They stood up and rolled up their sleeves to prepare for dish duty.

Okay, so they're back. I know this was short, but....R&R, please.