Futurefic drabble based on the snippet of foreshadowing in 'Time Will Tell'
Dad's there to pick him up. The flight was exhausting, and he wasn't looking forward to getting into a cab, so it's a nice feeling. Dad is dad, always the same, that same tall, solid frame, hair a patrician grey now but those same dancing blue eyes that will always make him look younger than he is. He has inherited his father's height, can look him square in the eye unlike his sisters, but not the same broad-shouldered build. No he's lean and spare like his mother, and feels those bearlike arms wrap briefly around him in embrace.
"How was the flight?" Dad takes over the trolley wordlessly, and he allows it, letting his hands slouch into his pockets. The sun is dusky and setting as they walk back to the carpark.
"Tiring. Did finally get to finish your latest though…"
"What did you think?"
"Prefer your mystery books over serious literature myself. As long as I skip the sex scenes…"
"…point. Don't need to put you into therapy for that."
"More like I don't ever drink tequila." He shudders at the thought. He read that scene once, the first time he read his dad's work when he was 14. It hadn't struck him that he was reading about his parents' fictionalized selves till it was far too late. And scarring.
Traffic is busy, and they chit-chat about his semester abroad. Sydney had been a lot of fun, but he's too jetlagged to make any serious conversation.
"Who's at home?"
"Everybody. Your mom flew back from DC this morning, no way she was going to miss your grand homecoming. The twins are packing to go to university, you know that. Even Alexis and Dan promised to visit for dinner tonight…"
He looks over at his dad, knowing he organised this, wanted the whole family to be together one last time before his sisters left for college. A small smile steals over his face. So like dad.
"When will you and mom drive the terrible twosome up to Boston?"
"Next week. Liz starts at MIT a week earlier than Jess does at Harvard."
He shakes his head. His genius younger sisters.
"Seems so weird. Feels like just yesterday I left for college and they were still sophomores at high school."
"Yeah, my prodigal only son, escaped to Princeton and left his poor old dad all alone to deal with the women in the family."
"Oh c'mon, between Alexis and mom, you've been used to that for ages."
His dad smiles, nods in acknowledgement. They're pulling up to the large brownstone that has served as the family home ever since he can remember. He knows his parents moved there from their old loft after he was born, but honestly he can only ever remember growing up here.
As soon as he goes through the door, his mother is upon him in a flash, pulling him tight, green-hazel eyes sparkling with love. She's as lean and elegant as ever, dark brown hair curling into a bun, spilling down her neck. He'd loved to play with it as a kid, sitting on her lap as she wrote reports and helped put away bad guys in the old days. She smells like cherries, like afternoons in the park and helping him with his homework and best lasagna he's ever tasted. She smells like home. He lets his arms tighten around her briefly, pull her into him.
"Good to see you too, mom."
"Feels like you've lost weight. Have you been eating enough? What did they serve you on the flight?" She fusses over him, fingers curling around his wrist as she tugs him into the kitchen, his dad trailing behind with a bemused look on his face. And love. His parents love each other so damn much it feels ridiculous to witness sometimes.
"Yes, yes, I've been eating enough, Mom…jeez. Shouldn't you be helping run the country or something? Fixing the legal system, that kind of thing?" He teases her as he drops into a seat at the kitchen table.
"Hey, you know the rule. Senator Beckett doesn't exist inside the house." His dad chides him as he moves into the kitches, dropping a kiss gently on his mom's cheek before heading to the wine rack. "Red or white?"
"White." He doesn't specify further. Dad always has the best taste in wines.
"Kate, honey?"
"Ohh, hmm, whatever you're opening." She's concentrating on the three pots she has going on the stove. "Your sisters just ducked down the store for me, they should be back soon."
"That's cool." He closes his eyes, just soaks in the warmth and noise and the sounds of his parents, now quietly bickering about the right amount of oregano to add to the stew or something. Just soaks in the feeling of home.