Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge (have you guys checked out her fics? DO IT. She's a huge Hank McCoy fan and an amazing writer!), NicoleR85, partygirl98, and StarlitStar for your reviews! Just so you know, in the next chapter something happens that I think we've all been waiting for...

Meet the Parents

"Hey Beast! It's time for dinner!" Alex called out.

I instantly pulled back slightly, embarrassed at our audience.

Thanks, Alex. Thanks a lot.

He was standing at the edge of the terrace, looking very amused. I had a feeling Alex had been watching for a minute or two, waiting for the perfect moment to interrupt us.

Zoey, with my hands still at her waist, looked annoyed at the disturbance. Her hands balled up into fists on my chest as she glared over at Alex.

"Want me to fry him?" she muttered.

I was startled into a laugh. "Can you do that?"

In answer, one of the topiary plants right next to Alex erupted into flames.

"Holy shit!" he yelled, jumping back.

He whirled around in panic, trying to see where the fire had come from. Failing that, Alex ran to the side of the mansion and grabbed a watering hose to put out the spontaneous blaze.

At this point both Zoey and myself were finding it difficult to stay upright, we were laughing so hard. Her eyes were sparkling with mischief and mirth as she held onto me for support, her bell-like giggles singing through the air and making the summer sky seem even brighter than before.

In that moment Zoey's laugh became my favorite sound in the entire world.

At dinner Olivia sat with the other children, though Zoey purposely placed herself where she could see her niece. I sat next to her and introduced her to everyone. She was very amiable, and everyone seemed to like her. The way she seamlessly fit into the group of people I held most dear in this world (after her, now) made me quite happy.

After dinner I walked the two of them back to the car.

"I'll see you Sunday," I promised, after saying good bye to Olivia. The little girl hopped in the car happily.

"Sunday?" Zoey asked.

"Mr. Rivers invited me to dinner," I explained. Suddenly I felt uncertain. "Was that ok?"

"Of course!" she said brightly. "Billy must think you're a good guy, then. He knows these kinds of things."

"Is he... is that an ability of his?" He didn't smell like a mutant, but if it was a weak enough power I might not be able to.

"No, not like that. He's just a good judge of character," Zoey replied.

"Oh. I'm honored then, I suppose," I said.

We stood there for a moment just smiling at each other. Neither of us wanted to say good-bye.

"Auntie?" Olivia called, sounding confused as to the delay.

Zoey shook herself. "One second, Livie," she promised. She gave me a shy smile. "I'll see you Sunday, Hank."

Her eyes drifted over to Olivia, who was watching us avidly, and then at me. Her smile became a little rueful. I got the message. Our first kiss would have to wait.

"Until then," I agreed.

Zoey stepped closer for a hug, which I gladly gave her. I liked how her small body fit against me- it felt like she was made to be there, in my arms. I inhaled the scent of her hair and kissed her curls before breaking the embrace.

She blew me a kiss as she got into the driver's seat. I was grinning like a love-struck idiot as she drove away.

Sunday evening could not come quickly enough. I was ready much too early, but couldn't help myself. I was very nervous- it felt like I was having an official "meet-the-parents" dinner, and I hadn't even kissed Zoey. It didn't matter that I'd already interacted with Billy and Marceline plenty of times before- this new context made the meal quite nerve-wracking.

I found a bottle of wine to give as a gift, and then cut flowers for both Marceline and Zoey from Moira's greenhouse (with permission, of course, or Moira would've killed me) on a whim. Lilies, for Mrs. Rivers, and violets for Zoey.

I took the Bentley again because I didn't consider myself flashy enough to drive the Mustang or the Cadillac. I pulled up in front of the address Billy gave me at 5:55, feeling a little disappointed that Zoey's car wasn't there.

Maybe she walked? Her apartment was only four streets over. Not an arduous journey for her, considering that she walked to the cafe all the time, and that was seven blocks away.

I sat there debating on whether I should just go knock for a minute or two before realizing that I was sitting outside someone's house like a weirdo.

I gathered my gifts and went to the front door of the modest house in front of me. My knuckles barely rapped on the door before Billy answered, faded denim eyes all atwinkle.

"Hey, kid," he greeted me in a hushed tone. "Come on in."

"Thank you, sir," I replied, making sure my feet were clean on the mat. Billy made a "quieter" motion with his hand, to my confusion. I lowered my voice accordingly. "Uh- why are we whispering?"

"Listen."

I heard it then. Zoey's voice- and she was singing. Terribly, I might add- the girl couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. The sound brought a smile to my face.

She is so cute.

"She hasn't sung like that since her father died," Billy said quietly. "She told me once there was nothing left to sing for anymore."

I looked at him sharply. The smiling, laughing girl I'd come to know over the past week didn't match the description her godfather was giving me at all.

However sad Zoey might have had been before, it sounded as if her depression was finally lifting.

Is he trying to imply that I have something to do with that?

Billy must've seen my confusion because he smirked and said, "Zoey is a soldier, kid. She knows how to hold it together to get the job done."

I nodded.

Noted.

"But she's been much happier since you showed up and started bringing her flowers and things," he added. "So thank you."

I honestly couldn't think of anything to say to that. "You're welcome," seemed rather arrogant, so I said nothing. My shoes were suddenly much too interesting.

With a more sincere grin, Billy made a "come with me" motion of his hand. I followed him, moving silently through the house to the kitchen in the back.

We first encountered Marceline, who was setting the table with her back to us.

"Zoey, light the candles, please!" the older woman called to the kitchen in French. "Zoey!"

The singing cut off and Zoey appeared in the doorway. She snapped her fingers, and not only did the candles on the table light, but the ones on the walls and in pretty decorative pieces lit as well.

Then she saw Billy and I standing there. Her face lit up in a huge smile.

"Hi, Hank," she said brightly.

Marceline whirled around, startled that I was behind her. My lightness of foot had struck again.

Maybe I should start whistling so people know I'm coming.

Her expression immediately became welcoming. She clearly knew I was aware that Zoey was a mutant. Maybe she even knew I was a mutant too, though I doubted Zoey had told her exactly what I was. At least I hoped so.

"Oh, Hank! So good to see you!" Marceline said cheerfully.

"You too, ma'am. These are for you," I told her, holding out the lilies and wine.

She gushed over the gifts, seeming well pleased with the wine choice. I'd grabbed a red Burgundy, though I couldn't drink it myself. Alcohol was a surefire way to make me lose my inhibitions, and that was definitely a bad idea.

While Marceline was talking, Zoey made her way over and wrapped her arms around me. I was delighted to return the embrace.

"These are for you," I said, presenting the flowers with a blush after she pulled away.

"Oh, thank you," Zoey said, looking shyly pleased. She reached up to kiss my cheek, making my face heat up even more. "You're so sweet."

"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. We're making onion soup, salad, boeuf en croute, potatoes Dijonnaise, cheese and fruit, and then creme brulee," Marceline said proudly. "Zoey made the soup, potatoes and dessert."

Oh boy. Return of the terrible potatoes.

"That sounds absolutely wonderful," I lied glibly.

I made small talk with Billy in the living room while the females finished up, my offers of help having been rejected out of hand.

Dinner actually went very well. Zoey, knowing by now that I would not brag about myself, told her godparents that I graduated Harvard at the age of fifteen and knew several languages. Billy and Marceline were impressed.

A little snag occurred when Billy broke out the wine I'd brought, along with four glasses.

"Oh, no thank you," I said, trying to be polite. "I'll just stick to water."

"But you can't enjoy boeuf en croute without wine!" Marceline pressed.

I cast my eyes away, desperately trying to think of an excuse.

Zoey, ever perceptive, noticed this. I saw a flash of understanding cross her face- she knew why alcohol was a bad idea for me.

"Hank was saying to me the other day that he can't hold his liquor worth anything," she said suddenly. "Didn't you tell me about how you had one glass of wine with dinner once and fell asleep at the table?"

"There's no need to mention that," I mumbled, hopefully in a convincingly sheepish voice. "It's embarrassing."

"And admitting to me that you watched me for almost four months wasn't?" Zoey teased. "You're so funny."

She reached for my hand, and I quickly turned mine over so our fingers could thread together. I gave a gentle squeeze, silently communicating my gratitude.

Thank you, Zoey. For everything.