Hi, guys. This is the last post before I go on vacation, I found some spare minutes in between packing and last minute appointments. That said, I saw that I've completely forgotten to do something with Grisha's birthday! :O It's May 3rd by now, so I'll mention something in one of the upcoming chapters.

Caroline: You hit the nail on its head. ;-)

Saturday arrived, and Grisha was walking up and down the house, double-checking the rooms and terrace. Dee kept half an eye on him. After his third check on an already impeccable table, she plucked him from the dining room and sat him down on a chair in the kitchen. "Sit. You're making me nervous."

"About what?"

"You keep double, triple-checking everything. I don't think we can make it better than it is now."

He was about to protest when he caught her look and kept quiet. "Fine."

Trying to distract him, she asked: "You excited for the game tomorrow?"

"Pretty much."

She lifted an eyebrow at him. "Pretty much?" Tossing the salad, her expression told him to elaborate.

"I'm excited for the game. I'm excited to spend time with Sam and his family." He bit his lip and sighed, plucking on his sling. "I haven't told him about us."

Dee had half-and-half expected that. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel, and turned around, crossing her arms. "Why? I thought you trusted him."

"I do." Shifting in his seat, he looked everywhere but at her. "I trust Sam with my life. Have I told you about my first date with Joelle?"

"Blind date, set up by Sam and Hetty."

"I told Hetty this last Thursday… He tends to overdo it. He's like a mother hen looking out for her chicks. I want to make this work for us by myself. God knows he'd be all over it the minute I'd tell him something was up."

Not saying anything immediately, Dee watched him. If not his words, the shuffling in his seat and his diverted eyes told her there was more to it than he let on. "You told Marty and Kensi," she softly said.

"There is no getting anything passed Deeks. He guessed, on Christmas Day. And I just told him. And Kens… I had to tell Kens when she asked me if I needed to stay with them when I broke my shoulder." Again, he looked at his shoes. "I guess part of me doesn't want to tell Sam."

Taking the few steps in his direction, Dee crouched down. "But why? Aren't you happy? Don't you want him to know you're happy?"

His smile made her whole day. "I'm elated! I've never been this happy in my life! Honestly, Dee, I need you to know that."

Smiling, she squeezed his hand. "I know that. What other reason is there?"

Taking a deep breath, he finally came out with it. "Other than the fact that I'm a very private person… I'm afraid that he's going to meddle. He'll want to know everything. He'll tell me what to do. He'll practically write my proposal when I'm not paying attention. And like I said, I know it's his way of showing that he cares, but I finally have a private life. If I don't tell him, I don't have to tell him to back off, and he won't meddle."

Dee considered his words for a moment. "But doesn't that mean that he thinks you won't be able to do it? He trusts you to have his back in his job, right? It feels as if he doesn't trust you to be able to have a private life. Let alone maintain one."

"In his defense, my track record is not promising."

She shrugged. "You just hadn't found your person yet."

That made him smile. "I guess so."

"Are you trying to prove him or yourself that you can do this?"

"Maybe both. Him, mostly. "

Shifting, she rested her head against his. "Oh, baby… You're doing great. If only you could see how much you've changed this past year. I'm so proud of you. Don't doubt that you can do this. You already are. And we'll hit a few bumps in the road, like everyone else does. So what? We'll manage them together. Don't doubt yourself."

Grisha closed his eyes. "You're proud of me?"

"Of course I am! Very, very proud!" Cupping his cheeks, she kissed him. "I'll tell you every day if I have to. You've come a long way this past year. From starting to date, all by yourself, to letting me see the house, to telling me about your job… You've done all that by yourself. You're even meeting my parents!"

"Like I had a choice."

"Not really." She winked. "Still, though. You've made a lot of progress. You should be proud of yourself, too."

Nodding, he sighed. "When you put it like that…"

"I just did." She was about to rise when the doorbell rang. "Take a deep breath and relax. Then please go and open the door."

He rose with her and took his time to thoroughly kiss her. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Playfully, she pushed him out of the kitchen. "Go and let them in. Papa hates waiting."

Alistair and Maria loved the house. Dee gave them the grand tour before lunch, and even Hetty, who hadn't seen all of it, was impressed. It was coming together. It was starting to look like theirs.

Maria's eyes followed her daughters as she puttered around the kitchen. The way she had talked about the house; the pride in her eyes, the contentment on her face… She let Alistair and Hetty talk business and joined her daughter at the sink. "You're happy here." It wasn't a question.

Dee looked up. "What?"

"You're happy here."

Adding the last of the chopped dill to the smoked salmon, she nodded. "I am."

"Maybe even more at ease than you are at your own apartment."

Shaking her head, she wiped her hands on her apron. "No, not more. Different. This is our house. Not officially yet, but you know… I've been living here with him for the past four weeks. Before that it was a night here and there. We went furniture shopping together, I added some of my go-to books and knick-knacks. It's different." She smiled. "But you're right. I am happy here."

"Furniture shopping? You mean to tell me that it wasn't this way when you first saw it?"

Biting her lip, Dee tried to decide what to tell her mother. "Long story short: he's trying to grow roots here. He decided most things for himself. We both fell in love with the dining table, but if he hadn't loved it, I would've been happy with something else. It's only been like this since February or so." She went back to her lunch preparations.

Maria looked at Grisha from her place in the kitchen. "Is that why you have an epiphyte?"

"The epiphyte was Hetty's way of telling him that he needed to settle down somewhere."

"Ah." Maria considered for a moment. "She seems smart. Not suffocating him with motherly advice."

"She knows he'd probably ignore it anyway." Handing her mother the plate with fish, and taking a plate with ciabatta, Dee pushed Maria out of the kitchen. "It's lunch time. We'll talk later, okay?"

Lunch passed with easy conversation and laughter. After lunch, Alistair and Hetty moved to the patio with a large teapot and a silent signal they were not to disturbed for a little while. Grisha watched them go, his eyes narrowed and his shoulders squared. Dee wrapped her arms around his waist. "Why are you worrying about it?"

Pulling the corners of his lips up, he rested his head against hers. "I don't know. I guess I just want him to trust me with you. I want him to know that he has nothing to fear from me. But maybe that's too much to ask after two meetings and all that you've been through with Kevin."

"He's only worried," she tried to assure him.

"I know. Maybe I won't be able to take his worries away for the three weeks they're here."

Tightening her hold on him, Dee sighed. "If Hetty won't work miracles, he's going to have to trust my judgment and Mom's. Mom really likes you."

"She does?"

"I do." Maria winked at them as she entered the dining room. "Give Alistair some time to adjust. I'm sure that if you had a daughter who'd been through that, you'd do the same." She picked up some plates. "I get the impression that you love my daughter, and your vibe is different from Kevin's, so I'm going to trust that. Then again, as parents, we always worry about our kids."

Dee rolled her eyes. "See? Let Papa brood over it, if he must, but I know I love you anyway."

That never seemed to get dull. "I love you too, babe."

Out back, on the patio, Alistair could see the three of them huddled together in the dining room. He liked the house; it was cozy, peaceful. Deja seemed to know her way around as well as she did in her own apartment. He turned to Hetty. "You've known him for a long time, then."

Taking a sip from her tea, Hetty nodded. "Since he was fifteen."

"And he's always treated all his girlfriends with respect?"

"If the question is if he's ever abused or assaulted anyone of them, I can answer you no. I like to think I've raised him with more respect for women in general."

"Really."

Instead of answering, she looked at him. "I've known him for a long time, Alistair. I know what he can and cannot do. He will never raise a hand against a woman."

Nodding, Alistair seemed to accept that. "You know what his job is like?"

"I do. The parts that he can tell me."

"And you don't worry about him not coming home?"

"Every single day." More so when she saw him throw himself into something that might very well kill him. "But I also know that he knows the risks involved, and he's been trained accordingly. He's good at what he does, Alistair."

"Oh, I believe that." Toying with his cup, he sighed. "Do you consider yourself a good judge of character, Hetty?"

"Most of the time, yes."

"What's he really like? Is he like this all the time?"

"Guarded? Cautious?" She weighed her words. "Not when it comes to work. But he's been through thirty-seven foster homes before he came to live with me, some fine, some bad, some worse than we can imagine. It does shape a person. Like I said, in his work he's confident, sometimes even arrogant, because he knows what he can do. He knows what he's good at. But letting someone in is not his area of expertise, Alistair. It's the first time in his life he's meeting the parents of his girlfriend. It's the first time I get to meet his girlfriend. That should tell you that he's trying."

"Trying what exactly?"

"He's trying to trust her. Can you image what it must feel like to be pushed around from family to family before the age of fifteen? He's basically been alone his whole life. He trusts me, but I've had to prove that I'm here to stay. The fact that he invited me to dinner to meet Deja, that he's furnished his house for the first time in twenty years, that he's letting someone in." Right on time she swallowed the part about having to order him to talk to Nate. "Your daughter is everything he's needed his whole life, and I'm profoundly proud of him for wanting to trust her all on his own."

"What if they do get married, and have kids, and he doesn't get to come home one day? Will she be looked after?"

Hetty frowned. "You honestly believe he will leave her without anything, if at all? He will not, and I repeat, not leave her with nothing." She had his changed will on her desk yesterday, for safe keeping, knowing that there was an attorney somewhere with a copy. Not that she could share that with Alistair. "She, and however many kids they may have, will always be looked after."

"Good." He stared in the distance for a few moments. "I'm sorry if my concern may come across as excessive," he apologized. "I don't want to happen what happened with Kevin."

"I understand. But you have to understand that she's her own person. I don't think that Deja is such a poor judge of character that she would move in with someone she doesn't trust."

Alistair had to give her that. "That's true. Do you think Deja knows about his job? Really, I mean?"

"It is my understanding he's told her everything he could." Although her tone was friendly, Alistair heard that she was getting irritated. "She chose to stay, knowing that he might not get back to her one day. That should tell you enough, shouldn't it?"

Glancing over, Alistair saw that her eyes were close to shooting fire and her strong grip on her teacup suggested that he was reaching a boiling point. Exactly the mother he'd hoped she was. Taking another breath, he nodded. "Yes, it should."

Looking over to where Grisha and Deja were still talking to Maria, now in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, he saw how he was standing close to Deja. He'd been nothing but respectful and affectionate to his daughter; teasing her, helping her with preparations. They'd been telling stories about the farmers market they went to; stories about furniture shopping, about the café, their day-to-day life. They were well on their way to making a life together.

Hetty was right. It should be enough that Deja trusted him. That she knew about his job and past and decided he was worth dating anyway. He needed to let it go. Putting his cup on its saucer, he rose. "Alright. Let's join them inside, then, shall we?"