Gillian groaned and turned over, pulling away from her husband and preparing to get out of bed. "I have to go get the boys."

"No," Cal's arm circled her hips. "Stay. Five more minutes." His voice was drowsy; though she wasn't sure they had actually gone to sleep.

"One."

"Two," Cal insisted. About once a month they got a weekend alone. Well not really a weekend but at least a good chunk of time on at least one of the days of the weekend. Sometimes the boys would stay over at their grandparents on a Friday after school to early evening on Saturday. On this occasion it was merely five hours on a Sunday afternoon but still, five hours was plenty of time to screw around. Literally.

Gillian settled back against her husband's bare chest, feeling satisfied and warm. While she enjoyed the weekend where she got to have the house to herself, she really did enjoy the small amounts of time she had with him alone even more. With two kids they didn't ever get the house to themselves and they hardly ever got to spend time alone. They also had to wait for her parents to invite the boys over. Gone were the days of asking for babysitting. It was better to save those up for emergencies.

A kiss was pressed against the back of Gillian's shoulder and she gave a little hum. "Lovely aftanoon," Cal noted.

"Oh yeah," Gillian agreed on a sigh.

Cal chuckled lightly, his finger tracing over the skin at her hip. "Those pills work a right treat."

"God yeah," Gillian agreed feeling a little spark in the pit of her stomach. Again. "I'm glad you went."

"Me too."

Gillian caved and turned over within his embrace. She should really have a shower before she got going. She had time and she didn't really want to show up on her mother's doorstep sticky and smelling of sex. It was better to warn Cal about the time. She knew he would keep her in bed. Or more accurately, she knew she would let him twist her arm to stay for a little bit longer. She pressed a kiss against his throat, then shifted up so they were more aligned and kissed his jaw, pushing him back, flat. "Confession?"

"All right," Cal agreed and his voice sounded a little strained, like he was having a hard time concentrating.

"I took some too."
"You what?" he pulled her away, surprised.

"I read the bottle," Gillian gave a shrug. "They're for men and women."

Cal's eyebrows went up slowly. Then he blinked, processing. "Wow so that's why you can't keep your hands off me?"

Gillian laughed and rolled her eyes. She leaned in to capture his lips, teasing her teeth against the thinner skin. "You can't keep your hands off me," she whispered, then executed her move. She threw back the covers and scooted along the mattress to escape. She headed around the bed, feeling her husband's eyes heavy on her skin, making her stomach nervous with the scrutiny. She turned the shower on and went to the sink to get a band to tie her hair back out of the way, then got into the cubicle.

Cal joined her a second later. He crowded her, his hands in the curve of her waist, up her back to her shoulders. "You're right," he murmured just loud enough to be heard over the water. "Can't keep my hands off you." He leaned down to kiss her wet shoulder. But he also knew when that could be too much, so after proving his point he shuffled back to one side and let her have the water, washing himself in the scraps. Gillian got out first, dried off quickly and dressed casually. Cal emerged while she slipped on shoes. She crossed the room to where he stood, rubbing her towel through his wet hair. She didn't have to say anything about that either. He knew to get her a dry one out for her next convenience. Gillian pressed a kiss against the damp corner of his mouth, smoothing her fingers against the stubble of his chin, suppressing a shiver as she remembered the feel of his cheek against her thighs.

"Back in a minute," she told him. He gave a grunt of acknowledgement. Gillian headed across the state border to her parents place and rang the bell.

Three-year-old Owen answered and he bounced into her arms. "Hi Mum I missed you."

"Missed you too," Gillian gave him a squeeze and put him down again. "Where's everyone else?"

"Grandma's in there and Lewis and Granddad is gone in there," he gave a shrug, pulling her into the house, but didn't point anywhere in particular. He slammed the front door behind him and then Dana appeared in the hallway with Lewis. The boys thanked their grandmother for having them and she told them they were quite welcome. "Is Dad ok?" Gillian asked her mother, because it was strange for him to not make an appearance as well.

Dana's face suddenly changed. The genuine smile was quickly replaced with a false one. "Why don't you boys go wait in the car?" She suggested, giving Owen's shoulder a little nudge towards the door. Gillian handed Lewis the keys and they went out the front. Gillian could hear them arguing over who got to press the remote unlock button on the key chain but she was more focussed on her mother right now.

"Is everything ok?"

Dana stepped closer to the front door, her hand on it, her gaze out to the car, so she could see the boys. Gillian heard car doors slam. Then her mother looked over at her. "Your father's drinking again."

Gillian felt the world go suddenly silent and still. She held her breath, waiting for the punch line that never came. "What?"

"It's no big deal. It's under control."

So that's where he was now. Getting drunk in his den, just like he did so many days of her childhood. Gillian felt a sudden wave of nausea. She realised her mother was avoiding her eye, looking uncomfortable and there was something else there Gillian was having a hard time processing; oh that was shame.

"I have to go," Gillian noted, reaching for the door and pulling it out of her mother's grasp firmly. She went straight for her car and got in, not looking back. She turned to see if the boys were buckled in and told them off for not doing so. Owen was monkeying off the passenger headrest. He sat back abruptly at her sharp tone. Gillian turned the engine and backed down the drive without even checking both her kids were strapped in. She didn't remember driving home either. Just that her father was drinking again and she was imagining him slouched with blood shot eyes and a breath that could peel paint, alone in his den, shirt rumpled, not making it to bed that night but crashing out on the couch.

Oh god not again.

Gillian felt sick.

Not again. This couldn't be happening again. How could he even?

"Mum you went past our house!" Lewis noted from the back.

Owen laughed. "That's silly Mum. That's our house."

Gillian came to, realised she had driven too far down the block. She pulled into a drive and turned the car back. As soon as she had parked in the garage the boys were climbing out. Lewis clambering over the centre to get out Owen's door. They left her there and the door wide open. Gillian slowly undid her seatbelt. She could hear the boys calling out to their father. Oh Cal. What was she going to tell Cal? He would... Actually she had no idea what he would do but she knew he wasn't going to be happy.

Gillian got out of the car and closed her door. She walked around the vehicle, closing the door the boys had left open too. She headed inside, closing the internal door behind her. She headed past the sunny portraits of her family on the wall; taken on a brilliant summer day in a park. She knew them by heart anyway. They'd had to get them updated after Owen was born. Actually it had taken them two years to get updated after Owen was born, so that he was a laughing toddler, straight blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. Cal was grinning in one picture, laughing his head off in the other; formal, informal. Lewis's light brown hair was darker now and his freckles pronounced. He had let his hair grow longer and he was sat in Gillian's lap in one, lunging for his father in the other.

By the time Gillian reached the kitchen she still had no idea what to say. She didn't know how she felt. Somewhere along the lines of confused and betrayed and shocked. Cal was listening attentively to Lewis and Owen telling him about their afternoon. They'd made cookies but eaten them all.

"You mean you didn't bring one for me?" Cal protested.

"They were too yummy," Lewis told him. He used 'eat' and 'good'.

"Aw," Cal complained. He looked up, smiling, to see Gillian, stopped in the doorway. "Gill, you all right?" He sounded mildly concerned.

Gillian met his eye, that happy grin, their afternoon together; her stomach churned. "Yeah," she gave a slight smile. It was forced but he didn't call her on it. "Fine."