Dalton was wide awake, and painfully aware that Marlin was too. The couple slept side by side, Dalton's back to his stepfather. The teen shocked himself- he wasn't afraid to be fucked blind by the man but laying next to him in bed had always made him extremely uncomfortable. He groaned audibly in frustration and tried to slam his eyes shut to force sleep, but regardless of how hard he tried, he just couldn't slip out of consciousness. He wanted to cry, but knew he couldn't.

After Dalton's groan slightly breaking the dreadful silence, Marlin tried to touch the teenager on his shoulder to comfort him. He was currently sixteen, and Marlin was… well, much to old to be sleeping next to a sixteen year old boy. Dalton looked his age but didn't act like it. If you had only known him for words and not appearance you would've thought that the boy was well into his twenties.

"Don't touch me." was all the red head said.

Marlin scoffed and turned to have his back facing Dalton, knowing that tonight wasn't like the other nights. Usually he would leave wordlessly and slip back into his bedroom, but this time it was pointless- Nami had found out and the two must stop.

Against his better judgment, Marlin tried again. "Maybe she didn't hear us."

"I heard her leaving, dumbfuck. She heard us. Loud and fucking clear." Dalton tried to be angry at Marlin when in reality he was much angrier at himself.

Marlin knew that sleep wasn't coming to either of them and sat up, relaxing his temples. "Stop freaking out." he reached for the lamp and turned it on. "You know how she is… she'll just… you know, she'll be fine."

Marlin mentally slapped himself for uncertainty, and then mentally slapped himself again for making that uncertainty clear to his step son.

Dalton felt his tears try and surface, but refused to give them access. "Just because she's not as outgoing as other mothers doesn't mean that she's not human."

The dark-headed farmer did nothing, said nothing. What could he possibly do or say to make this situation any better? Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "If she really cared…" Marlin's search for words to comfort Dalton instead left a rather interesting inquiry for himself.

"Then why didn't she come in here to stop us?"

Though intended to be a challenging inquiry for Dalton, it turned out to be an actual question for the both of them. After thinking silently for a few moments, Dalton sighed.

"She didn't want an awkward confrontation," he murmured. "You've been married to her for way to many years not to know that."

Of course, Dalton had an answer. The kid always had an answer. Marlin felt defeat soak through his muscles as well as mentality, and returned to a laying position in his bed, looking up hopelessly into the ceiling.

"I don't know what you want me to do."

"I don't know what I want you to do." Dalton knew that they would eventually come, but not like this- he felt his tears slip slowly and painfully down his face. It wasn't that he had been caught by someone- would it have been anyone, anyone except Nami, Dalton would have just taken it like a man. But, the last thing he would ever want to do is hurt his mother, the one person who has stayed with him and loved him no matter what he did.

Marlin sighed and looked over at his step-son, seeing that he was crying. He rolled over on his side and felt his heart threaten to burst. Seeing tears from anyone, whether it be his worst enemy or his sixteen year old lover, was hard for Marlin. "Hey." he said softly. "Don't cry, everything's fine." He reached over and gently wiped Dalton's tears away with his thumb. "Everything's fine."

He didn't think that Dalton would hold a positive reaction, but when the red-head suddenly latched on to his step father and buried his face in the crook of his neck, Marlin didn't know what to do. Sex came naturally to the pair, but what the hell was Marlin supposed to do when the kid showed him some affection for the first time outside of sex? He stayed frozen for a moment before reluctantly putting his arms around the boy.

"Everything's fine." he repeated for the third time. He raked his fingers gently through the teen's red hair, searching for more words. When he found none, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment that the two had.

"Storm's over, Daddy!"

A young child, at the tender age of five, (or was it six? Griffin's memory was never anything remarkable) called out to his father from the open doorway outside of the bar. He sported faded overalls over a simple white shirt, his bare feet showcasing dirty toe nails and tiny cuts from various moments of outdoor playtime.

"I see that." his barkeep father replied rather tiredly, appearing from his bedroom. "Come to bed, Luke, it's horribly late."

Luke frowned pitifully. "I'm not hurtin' anybody."

Griffin chuckled and made his way towards his son. He grunted as he picked the boy up and sat him in his arms. "Nobody except yourself. You can't develop these bad sleeping habits like your old man."

"Mama tells Aunt Vesta that I'll prolly have 'em anyway." he reached down to rub his tiny hand over his father's stubble on his chin. "It's hurenditory."

"Hereditary." his father corrected. "Now when we go through my room to get to your room upstairs, we have to be quiet all right? Mama's asleep."

"Yessir."

He put the child down on the floor and felt a massive burden be lifted off of his back. Either his son was getting way to big or he himself was getting way to old. As much as he didn't want to admit it he very much believed it was both.

He watched with a smile as he followed his son, the young boy tip-toeing carefully through his room and up the latter to the room that he and his twin sister shared- the room that used to belong to Muffy.

That name crawling into his head made his horribly uncomfortable and even fidget a little. He forced it back to where it came and crawled into bed with his wife. Though he knew he wouldn't sleep until much later that night, he thought he had might as well try.

Celia stirred and turned to face him, tired but beautiful eyes accompanying an exhausted smile.

"I'm sorry." he mumbled. "I didn't meant to wake you up."

His wife giggled softly. "You didn't." she wriggled over to him and laid her head on his chest, and her lover gently laid his arm around her waist. "I was awake. I've been awake, for awhile."

Griffin sighed warmly and there was comforting silence for a moment or two. Celia then began to speak in a quiet and almost uneasy tone.

"I wanted to ask you something."

Griffin, with the knowledge that that "something" could be anything, began to worry a little. Being outward about feelings wasn't really a quality that belonged to him. Regardless, though, this was his wife.

"Ask away."

Celia inched away from their intimate position, almost afraid that it was inappropriate for the subject matter. Griffin's fear increased. Of course personal matters that could at time get personal were inevitable in a marriage, but something about Celia's preparation to ask the question made Griffin exceptionally uneasy.

"It's… about Muffy."

Suddenly the barkeep felt his heart sink to the pits of his stomach. This was the very last thing he wanted to discuss with anyone… much less his wife.

"Griffin, didn't you guys used to date? What ended that relationship?"

She watched as her spouse began to get greatly uneasy and suddenly felt guilty. She apologized quietly and laid back down, supposedly ending the potential conversation.

"She…"

"You don't have to answer me." Celia said softly, staring at the ceiling. "If it's uncomfortable for you to talk about, then you don't-"

"No, no…" He was breaking out into a sweat now. He considered the option of telling her the truth but in his mind it went nowhere. His panic was strictly inward and he didn't dare show it outwardly if he could help it.

"We… we didn't communicate." he really wished she hadn't asked him this. That was probably the reason that she stayed up so late. He felt horrible, tainted. It was just a small lie, but this was his wife.

"That's really all there is to it?" Celia asked, not looking away from the ceiling. "Well, then I'm glad you and I talk as much as we do."

There was so much softness and kindness in Celia's words that Griffin felt his panic sweep away. Now he was off the subject and could resume being intimate with his wife. He laid on his side and put a protective arm around her, holding her close to him. She faced the other direction and cuddled her back in his chest. "I love you." she said.

He smiled and kissed her cheek. "I love you too." Griffin closed his eyes, convinced that Celia had believed his lie.

She didn't. Not in the least.