Pairing: Old Quil/Molly

Genre: Romance/Adult/Humor

Rating: M

Word Count: 544

Pic Prompt: an old, lit-up VW van sitting by a lake with a brilliant starry night sky above and the mountains silhouetted in the background. You can check out the pic prompt on Tricky Raven in my wolfpack omnibus, Every Dog Has Its Day.

A/N: A little something different for Mel's birthday week. ;) Yes, the Month of Mel party continues! I got a little carried away and couldn't stop writing at 500 words. It was too much fun to stop there!

Young Again

Thunk.

Two pairs of legs—one pair a burnished copper, the other a smooth tan flushed pink with desire—fought for purchase in the cramped space the old VW camper claimed as 'bed'. Quil thought calling it a bed was generous.

Goddamn hippies.

"Ah, hell. We're too old for this shit, Moll," Quil complained. "We shoulda given this old thing to Five."

Molly flicked her long brown braid over her shoulder. It was threaded with salt and pepper grey that Quil thought made her look even lovelier than the first time he'd gotten her naked in the old heap. She looked at him with those warm cinnamon brown eyes the Swans were all known for, eyes sparkling with the memories and friskiness of their youth and he knew it was a losing battle as she pressed, "Oh, hush, we are not too old. Besides, that's the whole point."

"What? Being too old?"

"No, recapturing our youth, dear. Remember all those festivals we used to go to? We could really get this old van a-rockin', couldn't we?" she waggled her eyebrows.

"I'm not so old I forgot that. I just like the compensations of old age—like having sex in a bed and sleeping in without getting caught and having old Horatio Swan breathing down my neck about my intentions towards his little girl."

"Tsk-tsk, you debaucher," she smirked, nipping at his chin. "Oh! Speaking of, guess what I confiscated from our niece today?" She held up a small plastic container.

Quil cocked his head in curiosity, "Confiscated? From Charlie's kid? She's always baking stuff."

"Not this kind of stuff..." she said in a sing-song voice. "I went over to Billy's to ask his boy about an oil change and found half the pack lounging around in Jake's garage stuffing themselves with these. Little Bella's never stingy, so I moved to help myself to one while I spoke to Jake and they all jumped to their feet and shouted 'NO!'."

Quil snickered, "So, naturally, you relieved them of the duty of saving other unsuspecting adults from eating their pot brownies accidentally."

"Naturally," she chuckled, breaking off a piece and offering it to Quil.

"Are you trying to get me baked and take advantage of me, Mrs. Ateara?"

"You know it," she purred, popping it in his mouth and sliding down his chest.

Quil thought there were worse things than being taken advantage of by your wife.

He couldn't think of them … or anything else at the moment.

It would come to him.

Later, he thought, as his mind drifted in a happy green haze of lust and good old mary jane.

As they were relaxing in the sweet aftermath, they heard the sound of another car pull up in the lot at the lake and froze, watching each other with wide eyes full of mischief.

Knock, knock.

"Shit! It's the cops! Hide the dope!" Old Quil joked, grinning like the Cheshire Cat and stuffing himself back in his pants.

Molly was laughing as she drew her sundress on over her head and moved to the side door to slide it open.

The smile died quickly when she opened the door and a bright flashlight shined in her eyes as a startled male voice asked incredulously, "Aunt Molly?"