AN: So. We've arrived at the final piece. (Unless you're interested in the final outtake - in which case, nevermind.)

You've been so generous with your time in reading this - and particularly if you have reviewed or checked off boxes (and for you non-registered reviewers...I don't get to reply to you directly but I'm truly grateful for you. Speaking of, one of you asked me how Spike came to be at Starbucks; since I'm not able to write back to you directly and this is the end, I'll just say that he took a stroll and Winnie picked a poor hiding place), I really do owe you cookies. Or something.

Thank you for coming along on this little journey with me and for sticking with me (and Winnie) until the end.

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Even though she technically finished work twenty-five minutes ago, Winnie's still sitting at the desk, rocking back in the chair with one foot up on the bottom shelf. A quiet shift coupled with the fact that said quiet shift is now supposed to be over and seriously, she's just so restless, really wouldn't mind being on her way home right now.

(Plus, she's thinking about the awkward phone call she lived through earlier, thought about telling Spike about it right away - really wanted to - and then decided that in person where she could see his face and avoid any misunderstandings would probably be best.)

Her phone vibrates and she's grinning before she even answers it. "Hey you."

"Tell me you're getting out of work soon." Spike sounds like he's grinning too.

"Just waiting for Pete."

"Surprising," he says with a faint hint of irony.

"Stop it." She's trying not to snicker. "He covered for me two days ago when you made me late." Feels herself smirking a little when she thinks about just why she was late two days ago which is entirely ridiculous but not apparently ridiculous enough for her to wipe the smirk off her face.

"I didn't hear you telling me you had to leave," he says unapologetically. "You coming home soon?"

She smiles, traces an idle pattern on the top of the desk. "As soon as he gets here. You still in pain?"

"Nope."

She sighs and makes a face that he can't see. "You're such a liar." He's been alternating between insisting that he's fine and giving her a wide-eyed stare and saying that it hurts the way he would expect it to (Winnie has absolutely no idea what in the hell that's even supposed to mean).

She can practically see him rolling his eyes at her. "Okay a little. Nothing you can't cure."

"You're unbelievable," she says trying not to laugh. Laughter just encourages him. "Remember the time they said take it easy for a few weeks? No strenuous activity?" Even if he doesn't, she sure does, and it sobers her up a little, thinking about that doctor and Spike sitting on a gurney in the ER with a sheepish little expression on his face.

"What's strenuous for other people is not-"

"You're not a doctor," she interrupts.

"That's a technicality."

"No, it isn't," she says, shaking her head and she's smiling a silly relieved smile because he's arguing with her – because he's still here to argue with.

"Yeah well. Whether I'm moving or not moving, it doesn't make any difference." She's fairly certain he's trying to sound reassuring.

She sighs. "That your way of telling me that it still hurts?"

He clears his throat. "Damn."

She sighs again but she can't hide the smile. "You getting rusty sitting at home?"

"See? That right there is why I need to be back at work." He says it like he's trying to sound convincing.

She can only shake her head at that. "Whatever you say. Pete should be here soon, anyhow."

He snickers. "Don't get a ticket."

She rolls her eyes. "Please. When have I ever?" God, she just likes him a stupid amount and it's not like it's a thing she ever forgets but if she did, there'd be nothing like him nearly dying to remind her of all the ways her life is better when he's alive.

(Not that he nearly died – Ed's training and knowing how to fall without even thinking about it but there was a moment there where her whole world lurched sideways.)

"Also. I made dinner. So you don't have to bother picking anything up."

She lets out a long suffering sigh. "You're supposed to be resting." Well, maybe it'll be microwaveable pizza (she kind of highly doubts it but everyone needs a delusion now and then).

"I'm bored." He sounds like he's about to start whining at her.

"It's been a week," she points out. Thing is, she gets it, even if at first he was trying to tell her he'd been trying to watch the last season of Lost for years and now he'd have the time to do it.

"And I'm still bored!"

She snorts but also, she's still smiling. "Fine fine. I'll be home to entertain you in a little bit. Pete just got here. I'll see you soon." She hangs up and shakes her head at the man hunched over in front of her, breathing heavily with his hands resting on his knees. "Pete. Seriously."

"I know, I know. Five minutes, I just have to change." He shoots her his most charming smile.

"You're the worst," she says, rolling her eyes. Takes in how he's not moving and the silly suggestive look he's giving her. Raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Pete shrugs innocently at her. "What?" he mimics and then smirks, leaning his elbows on the top of the desk. "Eager to get home to your man?"

She rolls her eyes again. "My man? What are you, a bad '70s sitcom?"

He raises an eyebrow at her, like she's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Obviously," she says with a grin. "Wouldn't you be?" And she is. Stupidly eager, actually, and she doesn't care who knows it.

He laughs at her, pulling his jacket off as he backs up. "Mm, he's not my type. Okay okay, I'll be fast."

She clears the last of the paper off the desk, leans back in the chair and closes her eyes for a moment. Figures there's probably a bit of a dopey smile on her face and part of it is still that relief that Spike's okay - the other part is probably to do with the fact that she's happy, things falling into place, being able to live with the choices she made, finding peace, maybe.

"How invasive is it if we stop by tomorrow night? I know we said weekend but I think Ed forgot a swimming class or something." There's a pause. "For Izzy. Not him."

Winnie pulls herself back up smiling. "Hey Sam. Not invasive at all. All of you, right? I think Spike's suffering from some serious cabin fever as it is."

"Needs to be entertained eh?" Sam looks amused. (She heard his breathing skip though, that day on that call, her brain trained to pick out voices and throats clearing, it's how she distinguished her own shock, that feeling like her world had changed, from the part of it that was still the job.)

She shrugs. It's easy to make jokes about it now, when they know that a non-serious concussion's not going to have any lasting effects and a separated shoulder will be healed in a few weeks. "Yeah well. I keep telling him not to avoid getting shot at by throwing himself down three flights but…"

Sam grins at her and she sees her own relief reflected right back at her. "You still giving him a hard time for that one?"

She smiles back. "What, for scaring the hell out of all of us? Naturally." Has relived that day far too many times already.

"Sam, did you ask her?" Jules leans her elbows on the edge of the desk.

"About tomorrow? Yeah, we're good."

"We'll bring dinner," Jules says. "And by 'we' I mean, Sophie will tell us what to do. Plus, I think she convinced Marina to do that bacon-potato-cheese thing Spike likes so much. How bored is he, really?"

"On a scale of one to ten? I think he hit eleven the day after."

"Serves him right," Jules says unfeelingly. "Scaring us all like that. And you can tell him I told you so because he's started to ignore my texts."

"Hey go easy on him," Boss says walking past. "I seem to remember both of you being in that position a time or two before."

Winnie shakes her head as Jules and Sam turn to look at each other in protest.

"We okay for after shift tomorrow?" Boss says, handing Winnie back one of the binders. "Did Sam mention it?"

"He did. And definitely." She stands and gets out of her chair as Pete comes jogging up the stairs from the locker room. "Also, Spike asked me to ask you if he really needs a doctor's note before you'll clear him for duty." She rolls her eyes.

Boss snorts. "No comment."

"Yeah, that's what I said," she grins. "Okay. See you guys tomorrow!"

She gets a chorus of 'have a good night's and one 'say hi to your man for us' and she sings along to the radio on the way home, windows down and strands of hair getting blown around her face.

Spike's waiting for her when she gets to his house, front door open, feet bare, leaning against the door frame. From this distance, it doesn't even look like anything's out of the ordinary (minus, you know, the sling, and the relief that courses over her every time she looks at him, the fact that she has to keep reminding her heart that it doesn't need to be living in her throat).

"You sped," he says accusingly before she's even half way out of the car.

She stares at him, mouth slightly open. "How do you know?"

"Because. I know what time you left, taking into account the traffic and the time of day, as well as the weather-"

Winnie bursts out laughing. "Yeah?" She grins up at him as she walks him backwards into the house, hands lightly on his chest, doesn't even bother commenting on how bored he must have been to consider any of that at all. She's been thinking about this moment since 11:30 this morning and it's not just the way he kisses her that's been on her mind.

She waits until she's at least dropped her set of the car keys on the side table and they're standing in the kitchen, clears her throat and he looks at her and stops moving. "What is it?" She hears some well-disguised worry in there.

She makes a face. "Seriously, how do you do that?" Tries to shoot him a reassuring smile. Cause it's nothing.

"It's a gift," he says dryly, shoots her a look she's not sure how to read. "So?"

"It's not a big deal," she warns him, ignores the way her heart's pounding and how there's a faint sheen of sweat on her skin because this isn't a big deal and she's probably just wearing too many layers for summer.

"Okay."

"My ex called." She really can't bring herself to use his name which is utterly ridiculous and she vaguely wonders if this is some sort of thing that can be profiled, like if another person would do the same thing to create distance or something between the past and now (it's just - so, possibly, she's been picking up some of those negotiation tactics. At least, she knows the kinds of things negotiators watch for).

Spike looks too calm, leans back against the fridge with a kind of practiced ease, this expression on his face like he's about to ask her how she feels about that. She's well-aware that he doesn't have to ask which ex she means.

"He's um. He's at Bellwood."

His eyebrows shoot up. "The rehab centre?" He nods slowly. "Okay. So. You gonna go see him?"

Okay, seriously, sometimes he just drives her insane, all that logic that she just can't follow. "What? Of course not. Why would I go and see him?" She's only barely restraining herself from rolling her eyes but she sees something in his shoulders relax a little. "He must have seen it in the paper. The take down. I don't know. He was calling to like. I don't even know. Check up on me?" She makes a face, the idea so extremely foreign.

"Probably just checking to see if I'm still alive," he says, mutters something else about killing off the competition and then at least has the grace to shrug, a little half-smile on his face. "Sorry. Well. I guess that's good."

She makes another face at him and then clears her throat. "He um. Sounded sober."

"You guys talk for long?"

"Not really." She shrugs, just doesn't really have a whole lot to say to the guy and she can appreciate the gesture but also, she kind of thinks Rob's not going to be making a habit of it and that's just fine with her. "He basically asked how you were, said he'd heard about it. Asked me how I was. I asked him how he was. That was it."

He nods slowly. "Okay."

"Okay?" She swallows hard. It's not like it's difficult being in this relationship, not at all, actually, but sometimes, she can't find the words or they get stuck somewhere else. She's learning, though.

He smiles at her. "Yeah. I'm uh. Glad he's doing okay."

She snorts at that and he gives her an innocent look. (She gets it though. Thinks she'd hate the person who hurt him, too.) "I missed you, by the way. Work's lonely without you." She's (mostly) joking but it's definitely taking some getting used to, not having him hanging over her desk in his downtime (possibly, also, she might have a new appreciation for Spike in his tac gear, something to do with not knowing what you have until it's on leave for a few weeks and possibly longer, or something like that).

He lets her lean up, kisses her firmly on the lips and she tastes the moment everything between them goes back to normal and it makes her heart do a ridiculous leap right in her chest. It's just - they have a normal and it's a thing that she likes having. He makes a face. "It's boring here without you. Maybe you should just stay home with me."

She snorts. "Yeah, sounds like a plan. Do you want to tell Holleran or should I?" Also, she's smiling at him, how he's just so many things to her all wrapped up in one person, all the ways she wouldn't change any of it.

He slides his arm around her waist, kisses her a little more thoroughly. "Maybe someone else will do it."

"It's doubtful." She sniffs the air and then grins at him. "What is that?" It smells complicated, not like microwaveable pizza at all.

"Dinner. You hungry?" He shoots her a wide-eyed grin, like he knows exactly what she's thinking.

She sighs, because even though she is, she wants to tell him for the fortieth time that he's supposed to be taking it easy and that there's no point in him being at home if he's just going to be doing the exact opposite of it. But also, she keeps reminding herself that he's not the kind of person to make foolish decisions, not when he knows the cost. "Starved. Also, your mother called me at work today – again. See? She knows you exaggerate, wanted to know if you really are fine."

He wrinkles his nose. "I'll talk to her."

She finds herself smiling up at him as she loops her arms around his neck, kisses him before saying, "Just stop telling her you're fully healed, she knows you're not. Also, everyone's coming over tomorrow after shift. Jules said they'd bring dinner."

He grins at her. "So I won't get you all to myself till after they leave?"

She rolls her eyes at him, is also trying not to grin back and encourage him. "What part of no strenuous activity did you not understand?"

"You realize that it didn't stop either one of us yesterday, right? Or the day before that? Or the day before that?" When he puts it that way, it sounds like they have a problem or something.

"You're a bad influence," she says huffily. She'd been all set for no fooling around for at least two weeks (you know, let all the bits settle back to where they were supposed to be but that had gone right out the window pretty much the same second she'd gotten him home from the hospital but she had at least tried which is more than he'd done. But she'd let it go the first time because he could have died and he'd still had some Percocet in his system and that had pretty much been that).

He steps just a little closer, his hand on her hip. He drops a kiss on her lips. "Yeah?"

She glares at him. "That's not going to work."

"No?" He leans down and brushes his lips gently against her neck. "Not even a little?"

And see? This right here is the problem, he touches her and all her brain cells just flop right down waving little white flags. "I hate you."

She feels his mouth against her skin, curving into a smile before he snickers. "Can't help it."

She giggles as he unbuttons her jeans with one hand. "What, here?"

"You got somewhere else you want to do this?"

She glares at him.

"Clean up'll be easy. It's tile," he says wheedlingly.

She laughs, shakes her head at him. "Fine. fine. If this is how you want to prolong your injury, fine."

He smiles. "It's not going to prolong anything."

"Isn't that the truth," she says with a smirk.

"Oh hilarious. You know, it's funny, I've never heard you complain."

Well, he's right about that one. She shrugs, giggling, figures she'd better help him get her clothes off before he hurts himself.

Jules has got Izzy curled up on her lap and Winnie's got her feet propped up on the edge of Leah's chair, both of them laughing at the story Marina's telling, Dahlia on her other side having this incredibly in-depth conversation with Allie Wordsworth. Winnie can vaguely hear Ed and Wordy arguing something fierce over the barbeque, Boss trying to soothe both of them.

"Can't someone shut the two of them up?" Dahlia mutters out of the side of her mouth. "Sam?"

Jules snorts. "Yeah, Sam?"

"I'd like to not get my head bitten off, thanks," he retorts from where he's standing. "Hey, Winnie, there more ice in the freezer?"

Winnie stretches. "I'll come with you. You'll never find it, not without a map."

Sam laughs, waits for her by the open back door.

She hands him three bags of peas and a carton of ice cream before she can reach the ice and he snorts, tells her she's right, he wouldn't have found it and why does Spike need to keep batteries in the freezer and possibly, on second thought maybe he doesn't want to know.

"Thanks." He glances at her as she shoves the peas and the ice cream back inside and closes the door. "You doing okay?"

She knows what he's talking about. Usually, it's Jules, a hand on Winnie's elbow or one of those gentle smiles, all that understanding about being on the other side of the job. (Not that the rest of them aren't just as guilty of doing it. Ed, for instance, brought her coffee every single morning this week, handed it over without saying a word.) "I'm fine."

"Yeah? You sure? Cause. It's cool if you're not. It was scary."

She nods slowly. "It was."

"And if you're not okay, you know. We're all," he clears his throat and looks horrifically uncomfortable, "here. If you need to talk. Or something."

She grins at him, feels this rush of affection for every single person there. "I'll keep that in mind."

They walk back outside and Spike catches her around the waist. "Ed yelled at me," he mutters snickering. "All I did was try and tell them the best way to get the coals hot."

She laughs. "Aw poor you," she says sarcastically, leans into him without touching the sling. "You should have known better."

He makes a face at her. "I'm injured?"

"How much longer are you planning on using that?" she says rolling her eyes.

He snickers, kisses her temple and mutters, "Until you stop giving in?"

She snorts like it's the cheesiest thing she's ever heard but she knows he sees the shiver that runs right through her. She waits until he's sitting down before she slides into the seat next to him and he reaches for her hand, kisses her fingers.

Dahlia shoots her a smirk across the table.

"I really don't want to interfere with the two of them," Sophie says with a sigh, eyes on Ed, "but I'd also like to eat sometime this century."

"They're not going to yell at you," Sam says helpfully.

Jules rolls her eyes. "Ignore him. He's hungry," she says grinning.

He makes a face at her but slides his arm around the back of her chair, lets Izzy climb over the armrests and stand on his lap. "Uncle Sam, can you lift me up?"

Winnie grins at the expression on Jules's face, like maybe her heart's melting a little bit.

"Why don't we go ask your Daddy to stop messing around with the barbeque and let us eat?" Sam says conspiratorially.

"Okay," Izzy says agreeably.

Dahlia snorts. "Getting a kid to do your dirty work?"

"Please let him," Sophie says mock-pleadingly.

They do eventually get the barbeque lit – actually, Ed stops trying to help and leaves Wordy and Boss to do it, unable to resist his daughter's pleas for food and for him to come play with her and the sight of two grown men rolling on the grass with the kids is almost too much for Dahlia.

"Seriously, this is so cute, I might have to barf," she says, rolling her eyes and reaching across Leah for the rum. "Hey, who tightened the cap?"

Spike snorts and Winnie sees the second he jostles his shoulder against the back of the chair, how he exhales slowly and then in again. She slides her fingers onto his forearm and he smiles at her, all reassuring. It does exactly nothing to alleviate the worry but she's also more than aware that he's still here with her, that they've spent the last few days having ridiculous life-affirming sex and that everyone else here needs a break from being terrified too. "Do you need help with the cap, Dahl?" she asks sarcastically.

"Bite me, Winnie," she says sweetly. "Anyone want me to mix them one?"

Jules lets out a laugh. "Think I learned my lesson the first time."

"I'm sticking with beer. I can't find the bottle opener though," Leah says with a sigh, poking around in the cooler at her feet. "Spike, you got another one inside?"

"Where's your tac knife?" Jules asks jokingly, starts searching in her purse for her Swiss Army.

"It going to gross you out if I open that with my teeth?" Dahlia asks, sipping daintily at her drink and motioning to Leah's beer bottle with a thrust of her chin.

Spike just looks at Winnie, shakes his head in disbelief and she laughs, lets him pull her close and kiss her temple while Leah hands her beer over to Dahlia.

"I wanna learn!" Lily says from where she's sitting with Shelley, eyes all wide. Marina lets out a smothered laugh.

Dahlia clears her throat, removes the cap from her mouth. "When you're older."

Winnie can feel Spike laughing beside her.

Later, when they've finally eaten and Spike's playing with her hair and Dahlia's doing her best to stop swearing around the kids even though she's several sheets to the wind at this point in the evening, Winnie glances up and sees Sophie positively grinning at her. She shrugs, can't help but grin back.

Izzy appears in between her and Spike's chairs, very seriously says, "A bug's chasing me. I know I'm not allowed to sit with Uncle Spike today but can I sit with you? Please?"

And it's really stupid but Winnie kind of feels her heart melt a little too, lets the little girl climb up and get comfortable, rest her head against Winnie's shoulder, chatter right into her ear. Spike grins, pushes a piece of hair out of Winnie's face, this look like he's happy too, leans over (even though she's told him a thousand times to stop leaning and bending and whatever else he's used to doing) and kisses her real quick. Turns back to talk to Sam and Winnie grins to herself, how everything feels exactly the way it's supposed to feel.

When she heads inside to grab dessert plates, she deposits a still-chattering Izzy into Ed's lap, Ed's face changing into something really gentle when he looks at his daughter. Sophie's at the counter assembling a tower of cookies that has Winnie drooling.

"You know how they say nothing's perfect? Like no life is supposed to be?" Sophie says, deftly fixing the icing in one spot on another one of the desserts.

Winnie glances at her, glances out the open back door and shrugs. "They do say that."

"I think we get perfect moments. You know what I mean?"

Winnie smiles, reaches into the drawer for extra forks. "I know exactly what you mean." She clears her throat. "You need me to carry one of those?"

"You guys need help?" Sam says from where he's standing in the doorway.

Sophie grins. "And that is precisely why we keep these boys around."

"To be mules?" He shrugs like that's possibly not a bad thing at all, smiles charmingly at her. "If that's the good icing, I'm sold."

Sophie raises her eyes to the ceiling theatrically and Winnie lets out a snort of laughter, shakes her head and follows them both back outside.

Sam sets down one of the desserts in front of Jules who says, "Sophie, these look amazing," her smile all bright. Sam brushes his fingers against her bare arm before he sits back down.

And Winnie thinks about summer evenings with the sun setting over the fence, thinks about planting flowers in the garden of a place she doesn't even live, of waking up on her days off and drinking her coffee while she's perched on Spike's lap with the paper spread across the table and he's pretending to read the headlines over her shoulder but is really just brushing his lips against her neck, thinks about love and family and perfect moments, puts the plates and forks down and slides one hand down over Spike's chest, kisses him on his cheek. He squeezes her fingers, grins at her and if someone said tomorrow that it was never getting better than today? Winnie's pretty sure she'd live out the rest of her life really fucking happy.

(Funny thing is, she thinks about Rob too and it doesn't make her heart seize in horror the way it used to, all the ways it could have been and how grateful she is that it's none of those ways. Thinks she might even be grateful for him, for all the things that happened, all the things that went wrong and all the things that didn't.)

Wordy has Allie and Izzy on his lap, is somehow feeding cake to both of them at the same time, glances over at Shel who's got the other two kids aqueezed into her chair with her, grins and she blushes and Ed's smiling teasingly up at Sophie, her eyes all soft when she smiles back. Boss and Marina have their heads close together and she laughs suddenly, Boss grinning at her as she tucks strands of hair out of her face and tries to look unimpressed. Sam's trying to cajole Jules into tasting some of the cake on his fork and she finally rolls her eyes, leans forward and eats it really quick like she's just trying to appease him but she also grins widely, shoves lightly at his shoulder and he sits back, looks all satisfied. Winnie knows that she's grinning, Spike's arm pulling her close to his chair, fingers rubbing at her hip as she rests her hand against his neck.

Dahlia reaches around and pinches Winnie hard on the ass. "Get that ridiculous look off your face right now," she commands, grinning at her widely and then hands her empty glass over. "Top me up?"

Winnie rolls her eyes and leans over for the rum, snags a cookie off the plate on her way back and jams it into her mouth.

"Don't skimp out, Win," Dahlia says, eyes all bright. "Not like I'm fucking driving over here."

"Watch your mouth," Izzy says primly and there's a pause before everyone starts laughing.

"Sorry." Dahlia waits until Izzy turns back to Wordy before she shakes her head. "She's scary," she mouths.

"You're a teacher," Spike points out helpfully.

"Please. Not of little people. They turn up when they're fourteen and believe me, that's bad enough. They've done just enough growing that they don't need you to handhold them and not enough that you actually do need to handhold them."

"Good life choice for you then," he says with a snort.

Dahlia just laughs, shrugs while she grins up at Winnie.

The sun sets late, end of August and the air still warm and Jules flips on the white lights she and Spike strung at the start of the summer. Dahlia's helping Winnie light the citronella.

"I swear this shit does nothing," Dahlia mutters, glancing around like she's expecting the Potty-Mouth Police to make an appearance. "Fucking mosquitoes." She looks at Winnie. "He really okay?"

"What?"

She rolls her eyes. "Spike. You know. No lasting injuries right?" She has this expression on her face like she's horrified at herself for caring but Winnie knows her, probably too well and the point is, Dahlia cares for the same reasons Spike does and Winnie feels her heart catch, just a little. And it's not like she needed further proof that everything's different than it was five years ago but – it's there if she wants it.

"He's really okay."

"Yeah well. Good." She pulls a face and then shrugs. "So what's the deal? You guys book your tickets or not?"

Winnie snickers. "Yeah, Spike did, second day he was off. I still think it's insane to book a flight this early and I keep telling him we probably got ripped off but. It's done now."

"Who cares if you got ripped off or not? Italy in March? While the rest of us are getting splashed by slush? Take me the fuck with you."

Winnie rolls her eyes.

Dahlia looks at her, gives her this look she can't read. "You know if this was a few months ago, you'd have flipped your lid at planning that far in advance."

Winnie shrugs at her. "Probably." It stopped being a thing she cared about, worrying about stages, about serious or not serious; realized Dahlia had been right the whole time, that all those years spent as coworkers and then friends had done something to their trajectory and that probably what felt right was what was right. Now all she wants to do is enjoy it.

Dahlia turns her face a little, like she's looking up at the sky, but Winnie sees the smile on her face. "Your mom called me, by the way. Says I should come up with you guys for Thanksgiving. I didn't realize that was The Plan."

"Why don't you just say what you're thinking and get it out there?" Winnie says with another eye roll.

"I'm just saying. Is this how it's going to go? Your mom's totally going to be asking me the whole time why I haven't met any 'nice young men' yet. And I'm going to have to tell her it's because all of them are already taken by women who don't talk to them like they're idiots. And then we're going to have to get into the fact that getting married to any of the men who are on the market right now sounds like some sad version of Rosemary's Baby-"

"You're going to compare getting married to the child of Satan?" Winnie says skeptically. "I mean – you could try it but I don't think she's going to buy it."

"-and the whole time, she's going to be fussing over Spike. You should be worried too, she's not going to pay any attention to you whatsoever." Dahlia fiddles with the citronella coil and then rolls her eyes and drops it back on the ground.

"What a shame," Winnie says dryly.

Dahlia grins at her, all bright and nods slowly. "Well. Whatever. I said I'd bring pie. Obviously, it'll be from, you know, fucking Pusateri's but don't you dare tell her that."

Winnie doesn't bother pointing out that her mother's going to be able to tell it's store-bought from the very fact that it's a pie.

Dahlia clears her throat. "I um. I like seeing you happy. And I like seeing him happy. And we never have to speak about this ever again."

Winnie stares at her for a second, feels so indescribably lucky, for neighbourhood ballet classes and family, for friends with foul mouths, who've never had the faintest clue how to start giving up on the people they love, and then leans over and hugs her, completely ignores Dahlia's protests about why on earth she's touching her, doesn't she know it's too hot for this kind of thing.

And then later, when everyone's leaving, Winnie lays her head against Spike's shoulder, his uninjured arm wrapped around her waist, and she slides her fingers against his.

Wordy and Leah did most of the clean up and Dahlia ran a load through the dishwasher before she loaded it up for the second time so there's actually not that much left but Winnie knows the state of the floor is probably already driving Spike nuts (and yes, okay, sometimes, she'll drop a carrot on the floor just to see him twitch but she always picks it back up). She's about to get out the mop when he stops her, hand on hers. "I'll do it tomorrow."

She huffs. "Spike-"

"I know," he says patiently. "But I can handle cleaning the floor. So leave it." He kisses her until she forgets why she's even touching the handle of the mop in the first place, starts sliding his fingers up inside her shirt and she laughs.

"Upstairs."

He leans in, kisses her again and she ends up smiling against his mouth. As they walk up, she's ridiculously careful to give him enough room so that he doesn't brush against the wall. He rolls his eyes at her concern. "You realize that I've been up and down these stairs twenty times already today?"

"You're supposed to be resting." She makes a face at herself, is well aware she sounds like a broken record and that not only that, he's not stupid and is hardly going to do something to ensure he's off work even longer.

He rolls his eyes at her again, gets real serious as they walk through the bedroom door. "Win? I'm fine. I'm really fine."

She glances at him. "I know." She clears her throat, thinks about honesty, about the fact that she doesn't have to hide from him (about how she doesn't want to). "Um. You know, when I heard Jules shout, I thought-"

"I know." He clears his throat, all the playfulness disappearing from his face, like he's known this conversation was coming.

"And then you wouldn't answer-"

"I know."

She sighs. "It's the job. I know that." Of course she knows, it's part of her job too, to listen to all of it, to keep going no matter how terrified she is.

"I'm careful." He says it and it sounds like he's promising her something.

"I know that too."

"So?"

She shrugs. "Doesn't stop me from worrying. Just how it is."

He nods slowly like he's thinking it over. "You scared?"

"Of losing you?" She almost rolls her eyes, like of course she is, how could she not be, but she thinks about that, thinks about all the things she used to be scared of and how everything ended up getting switched around in her head and probably in her heart, too. Thinks it's better this way. (Knows it is.) "All the time."

He kisses her hard on the mouth, steals everything else she wanted to say, about how she's scared to lose him, yes, but that she's never going to regret him, never going to regret them, not now and not ever, that even if it ends, no matter how it ends, she'll always be glad.

But she kind of thinks that maybe, this time, he really does know exactly what she means.

And in any case, if he doesn't, she can tell him tomorrow, maybe over breakfast.