"How does it look?"

"Uh…a little to the left?"

"Is that a question or an instruction?"

"Umm…both?"

"It can't be both. It has to be one or the other. I can move it to the left or I can keep it here. We only have two options. There is no in between."

"Alright, yeesh!" Harley conceded from her chair where is sat on the icy sidewalk. "Left."

"Left what?"

"Left…Mistress?" Harley guessed.

…though from the look on Pam's face, Harley could tell it was not a good guess.

Pam put her hand on her hip where she stood on the ladder, the other keeping the string of lights tacked to the house. "Harleen, I'm asking how far left. Left…3 inches? Left…a foot? Can you give me a measurement?"

Harley petulantly crossed her arms. "Alright there, Miss Crabby Pants. Let's not pretend you don't love this too."

"I don't 'love this too'!" Pam replied, exasperated. "Eight nights of Chanukah is enough celebrating! I really don't know why you still insist on doing both!"

"For the kids! And I love Christmas!" Harley shot back. "Why do you gotta be such a party pooper?"

"Because our kids are grown!"

"But their kids aren't!" Harley shouted. "And we're hosting this year because Selina and Bruce bit the dust, remember that lil' tid-bit, ya crazy? Just hang the fuckin' lights up!"

"Well look who's crabby now!"

"You made me this way!"

Pamela rolled her eyes, calming herself down and changing her tone to something cloyingly sweet. "Daffodil, can you please guestimate a measurement?"

Harley squinted. "Can you turn around first? I don't want to be mad at you anymore."

Pam was confused. "Why would me turning around…Oh, Gaia—Harley! You can't keep settling arguments by objectifying me!"

"Why not?" Harley demanded. "Worked for the last 47 years! Why do we have to change now?"

Groaning, Pam turned around, looking quickly over her shoulder. "Happy?"

Harley was grinning. "Those jeans are super cute. Two inches."

"I know," Pam mumbled, moving the tac two inches to her left. "That's why I bought them."

She climbed down afterwards, her boots landing in the snow at the base of the ladder as she stepped backwards, joining Harley on the sidewalk. "Happy?"

Harley was still grinning as she gazed at the light display, reaching for Pam's hand and then clasping it in her own, hoping to warm up Pam's cold hands with her mittens. "It's really pretty."

Pam glanced down at her, a smile creeping into her features at Harley's expression. "Good."

"…prettier when your butt was in the picture, though."

Pam snorted. "Any picture is better when you add my butt, I reckon."

"You reckon?"

"I reckon."

/

The doorbell rang just after 11am…even though Pam had set the arrival time for 11:30, that way everyone could visit for a bit before lunch, and then Pam would have time to start preparing dinner as the day unfolded.

She wasn't ready for company at 11. She should have been, but she wasn't.

For one, Harley was asleep on the couch. She'd woken up excitedly at 8am and demanded that Pam give her at least one of the two presents she'd purchased her. Harley was rather disappointed to find it was a sapphire encrusted silver bracelet that matched the engagement and wedding rings she wore, rather than something more "fun", like say…a sex toy.

…but after the initial disappointment wore off—and Pam's disappointment at her disappointment—she had Pam put it on for her and lovingly traced the stones that protruded from the silver's smooth surface with her fingertip. "It's beautiful, Pammy…" she'd said.

And between that and pushing herself around the living room in her wheelchair, flinging unnecessary tinsel onto the furniture, Harley had tired herself out.

Pam, meanwhile, was putting the vegetables for the frittata in the oven to roast them when the doorbell stopped her.

"And so it begins," she sighed, shutting the oven door and taking off her apron.

"I'm up, I'm up, I'm up," Harley reported sleepily as Pam crossed through the living room to the front door. "Is it dinnertime yet?"

Pam paused with her hand on the doorknob, turning to raise an eyebrow at her wife. "You assumed I let you sleep through the entire day?"

"The things you do don't always make sense, Pam-a-lamb," Harley mumbled in return, stretching her arms.

Pam shook her head affectionately, twisting the handle to find…. "Kara?"

The blonde was smiling broadly at her on the porch, an elderly Lena Luthor at her side. "Merry Christmas!" she exclaimed, spreading her arms wide to pull Pamela into her vice grip…and showing off her sweater in the process. The one that said "Gangsta Wrapper" in broad letters above an embroidered gift box.

"This feels familiar…" Pam said when she let her go. "You're not…secretly dating one of my children, are you?"

"Uh—nope!" Kara beamed, wrapping a strong arm around Lena's shoulders. "Got all I need right here. But thank you so much for inviting us!"

"Is that what I did?"

"Sorry we can't stay for dinner too," Kara sounded genuinely remorseful. "But Clark invited us over and family is family—all I got left, really. You know how it goes."

"I…yes, I'm sure I do," Pam said, opening the door wider, though still very confused. "It's good to see you again, Ms. Luthor."

Lena smiled slyly. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, Dr. Isley, I've never met you before in my life. Though, you know…I did once meet a botanist by the name of Lillian Rose who bore a striking resemblance to you. Although she was wearing glasses, so of course that couldn't have been you."

Pam sighed. "I appreciate your discretion."

Lena chuckled, stepping past her through the door. "If it's any consolation, your disguise was far better than Kara's."

Kara's statement of betrayal was cut off when Harley yelled "Is it Anthony?" from the living room.

"No," Pam called back, leading them out of the foyer to where Harley was laying on the largest couch. "It's…Supergirl…and her wife," she attempted to infuse enough 'WTF' into her tone so that Harley would take notice but Kara and Lena wouldn't detect it. Whether or not she succeeded, Pam wasn't sure because Harley was saying:

"Oh, you made it! And perfect, you're strong. Do me a favor and put me in my chair, huh?" she nodded over at the chrome chair that sat just in front of the couch.

"Sure, totally," Kara's features hardened with determination as she slid her arms beneath her and lifted Harley like she weighed nothing at all, setting her gently down—upright—in the chair. "Your house is so beautiful, it's like Ellen DeGeneres lives here."

"Nah, we're the other rich lesbians," Harley chuckled. "But I guess not as rich as you. Really nice to meet you, Lena."

The woman smiled, reaching a hand out to be shaken. "And you, Harleen."

"Oh, you can call me Harley, everyone does," the blonde smiled, shaking back. "I don't—um—I don't know when everybody else is showing up—,"

"A half hour, hopefully," Pam helped her out. "I was just putting lunch in the oven, if you two would like to—,"

"I can help," Kara said immediately—resolute. "I'm not super good at cooking, but I can follow instructions."

"…sometimes," Lena added.

Pam smiled. "As long as you're willing to learn, Kara. Harleen here doesn't understand the concept."

"Hey, I tried! Remember? I went to all those cooking classes before Duke showed up."

"You went to 'a' cooking class. One. Singular." Pam corrected. "And then you gave up because you couldn't crack an egg with one hand and that upset you."

"It was upsetting!"

Lena laughed, the sound light and charming. "If there's any way I can help, Dr. Isley…"

"You can keep Harley company," Pam suggested. "Would you like a mimosa? The orange juice is freshly squeezed."

"Well, who in their right mind would say no to that?" Lena chuckled, sitting down gracefully on the couch behind her.

Kara followed Pam to the kitchen, though her pace dragged as she let her eyes slowly wander over the family pictures that lined the walls of the hallway they were passing through. "I love your kids," Kara murmured. "It always looks like they're having so much fun."

Pam let her gaze dally as well. "They're both exorbitantly wealthy and attractive. Life tends to be more fun for people like that." She was joking—mostly—and luckily Kara seemed to understand because she smiled softly.

She came to a stop in front of a family picture taken when the kids were 15 and 10. Harley was standing with Jo in front of her, her arms wrapped loosely around the girl's shoulders, clasped over her chest, while Anthony stood beside them, watching them instead of the camera, his arm pulling Pam to his side by her waist. "Me and Lena wanted kids…" Kara admitted. "Back when we first got married."

That was a rather long time ago… "What happened?"

"We got scared…" Kara examined the picture of Pam holding Duke as an infant. "Between her brother and her mom, there as just…a lot of danger. A Luthor and a Super, that makes for a lot of enemies. Now it's too late."

Pam studied the girl's body language, the longing in her eyes…although, Pam supposed she really wasn't a girl at all anymore. She wasn't much younger than Harley, actually. 10 years at the most, but like Clark, her aging was slowed to such a degree that you would never guess it. She was nearly as trapped as Pamela. "I'm…sorry, Kara. I'm so very sorry."

But Kara's eyes brightened quickly, her posture instantly perking up with them. "But maybe Lena and Harley can be friends! Do you think? She spends a lot of time with Lois—maybe Harley would like Lois. They're—I mean, Lena…I know she can sometimes feel so alone because nobody can really understand what it feels like to be…moving faster. Well, except for Lois, and Harley," she smiled. "And Jon and Damian are friends, right?"

"I wasn't aware Damian had any friends," Pam told her. "But…I suppose it's possible?" The doorbell rang again and Pam sighed. Why is it that people are always either late or early? Can't they just be on time? Is that really so much to ask? "Do me a favor and crack those two dozen eggs into the bowl on the counter."

"One hand or two?" Kara asked with a cheeky grin.

Pam smirked. "I'm not picky."

"Hi there," the man on her porch smiled at her, the teenaged girl next to him mimicking his expression. "You're Jo's Mom, right?"

"Do I look like Jo's Mom?"

The man seemed confused. "Well…no…you look like her sister…"

Seeing that her…father? Her brother? Was floundering, the girl leaned into Pam's ear and whispered. "I'm Batgirl, it's OK, we know."

"Oh!" realization suddenly dawned. "You're Tiffany. Which means you're…"

"Luke," the man answered, smiling…handsomely.

"Got it…" Pamela nodded slowly. "Yes, that makes—this makes sense."

Luke seemed a bit unsure, as Pam had yet to open the door wide enough for them to pass through. "Um…Jo said the Batgirl thing came with family perks…"

So no one wanted to keep me in the loop about the invite list. Charming. "Of course, yes," Pam stepped back, beckoning them inside. "I suppose you already know my wife, Tiffany. That's Harleen," she gestured to where Harley was sitting in her chair, she and Lena both sipping mimosas that had been prepared by Ivy's plants via mental instruction. "And this is…" she really wasn't sure how to go about this, how much everyone knew.

"Ms. Luthor," Luke greeted Lena with unexpected familiarity. "What a fantastic surprise."

Lena stood up to shake his hand. "It's been far too long. The last time we saw each other had to be…" she squinted in thought. "The Forbes AgTech Summit—can that be right?"

"I told you to give me a call the next time you were in Gotham!" Luke laughed. "What happened to that? Doesn't seem like the fault is with me here."

"You're right, you're right, I'm terrible," Lena conceded. "But I'm here now. I hope you'll accept my apology."

"Of course," Luke granted. "So how are you connected to all of this?" he wondered.

And now Lena seemed to be contemplating the same question Pam had earlier. How much does he know?

"Lena," Harley stepped in to help. "Tiffany works for my daughter and her husband."

"Ah," Lena nodded in understanding. "Are you the pink one?"

Tiffany giggled. "Yeah."

"And did Anthony and Karen make your suit?" Lena wondered. "Because they updated my wife's as well. Incredible work."

Luke raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Supergirl," Lena clarified. "She's in the kitchen if you'd like to meet her."

Before anyone could respond, Harley was being jumped on in her chair by an overzealous 9-year-old. "Merry Christmas, Nana!"

"Hey there, Delilah!" Harley laughed, wrapping her up into a tight hug.

"Every time, Harleen?" Damian sighed as he entered the room, Terry just in front of him. "Seriously?"

"I'll stop when it stops being funny," Harley assured him. "Which will of course be never, so yeah, every time, Harleen." She gave the girl on her lap a loud kiss on the cheek. "Have you had a good Christmas so far? Lots of presents?"

"Yeah," Lilah grinned. "Mommy gave me this dress, see?"

Pam and Harley studied the garment with some bewilderment. It was a light blue, with frills around the collar and the cap sleeves, and a soft pink bow tied around her waist…

And that's when Daisy entered wearing the exact same dress, and the fact that Jo was already biting her thumb to hold back laughter in the corner of the room told them all they needed to know.

"Jolene, you're going to get these kids taken away from you," Pam warned.

"Oh, come on!" Jo pushed off of the wall. "One The Shining reference never hurt anybody, and they asked for it anyway, I'm just in the business of granting Christmas wishes."

That didn't exactly make Pam feel any better. "Why have they been exposed to The Shining thoroughly enough to understand such a specific reference?"

"Well I didn't show it to them, if that's what you're implying," Jo told her—halfway between a sneer and an assurance. "They asked, I called up the studio and delivered…end of story."

"The studio?" Harley ran her hand along the fabric of the dress on Lilah's shoulder. "You mean these are the actual dresses?"

"What the heck else am I gonna spend my money on?" Jo demanded like it was a stupid question. "Glad you could make it, Luke. What up Tiff?" she gave the girl a fist-pound. "And Ms. Luthor, making the rest of us feel desperately inadequate yet again, how do you do it?"

Harley raised an eyebrow. "You two know each other?"

"Lena co-sponsored the Wayne Foundation's AIDS Benefit this year," Damian explained. "I put Jo in charge of the planning committee."

"How gracious of you," Pam intoned. "I wasn't aware they bestowed tasks of such importance upon trophy wives."

Jo smiled wickedly. "And a merry Christmas to you too, Mom. Can I help you in the kitchen? Or would it make you feel better if I sat out here and drank scotch with the men—or whatever."

"Why don't you ask Damian?" Pam suggested. "I'm sure he'll steer you in the right direction."

Harley intervened: "Hey, Pam? Chill, Baby, alright? It's Christmas."

Terry was frowning. "Mom, what's a trophy wife?"

"I don't know, Bud," Jo told him. "Something completely irrelevant. Hey," she squeezed his shoulder to get his full attention. "How about you and the girls go check out Uncle Tony's room. He kept this weird catalogue of everything he ever got for Christmas, I think it's still in his desk."

"He did?" Terry laughed.

"Totally," Jo confirmed. "It's like a spreadsheet or something. Go study it so you can make fun of him for it when he gets here."

Daisy smirked. "Yeah, OK."

"Cool," Jo grinned. "You too, Lilah. And anything you find up there you can keep."

Delilah was a little more reluctant, but climbed off of Harley anyway, following her brother and sister up the stairs.

Jo waited until all three heads had disappeared from sight before turning back to Pam. "You better knock that shit off in front of my kids, Mom. Right the fuck now."

Lena, Luke and Tiffany all blinked in surprise—even Harley wasn't quite expecting it. Damian just looked down at his shoes, clearing his throat uncomfortably in the silence.

"Apologies," Pam said, her tone even, holding her daughter's gaze. Then she turned to the rest of their audience with a smile. "Lunch should be ready in a half hour. If one of you will answer the door when Anthony gets here…"

/

"So what's the official time table on this?" Lena asked. "A year? Two?"

Anthony grinned. "March. That's the official rollout."

Lena set her fork down. "You can't be serious."

"I'm dead serious," Anthony assured her. "In three months, Wayne Enterprises is getting automobiles off of the ground and into the air. We've had the technology for roughly 6 years now. Most of our work since then has been convincing city officials that this is actually a safer alternative to road driving, as all of our flyers are self-driving—programed according to live-tracking traffic satellites. No more human error."

"Gotham has been established as a test city," Barbara chimed in. "A trial run, basically, for the entire country."

"As the Police Commissioner that has to introduce some new obstacles for you, huh?" Kara prompted.

Barbara smiled confidently across the table at her. "Nothing we can't handle."

Harley let her focus drift away from the conversation, glancing at Pam beside her who was distractedly picking at the food on her plate while watching Jo attempt to convince Daisy to eat a yam at the other end of the table.

"This is really good, Pammy," Harley whispered with a soft smile.

"Thank you," Pam muttered in return, breaking her focus as well to look at Harley. "I'm glad you like it." Her eyes searched Harley's face, though for what, the blonde wasn't sure. And nothing was ever said, Pam just leaned forward and gave her a chaste kiss, keeping her eyes open as she did and holding her lips there for a moment—just to look, it seemed.

Kara and Lena left after lunch, Kara making absolutely sure Harley had both Lena and Lois' number. Harley hadn't known what to expect inviting them over, she just knew that Pam and Kara seemed to have a functional—if not thriving—work relationship, and that was rare for Pam. Incredibly rare, actually. She didn't make friends easily, especially not with heroes.

And Lena Luthor? There were just so many insane rumors about she and her family, it had been difficult not to judge her beforehand. But Lena was…Lena was wonderful. Kind and funny and smart as a whip…and never in a million years did little Harleen Quinzel, growing up in that shithole neighborhood in Central Gotham, think she'd one day be spending Christmas with a Luthor. Or even get to speak to a Luthor, really. Then again, she didn't think she'd be married to a superhero either, or even a woman, for that matter! And heck yes she wanted to see Lois Lane again! The Lois Lane! And—

OK, OK, the point is, yay for new friends!

Afterwards they sat down to open presents…which probably shouldn't have still excited Harley so thoroughly, but screw it.

"The design is patented, something I came up with when it was clear the Batsuits needed a protection upgrade," Anthony was explaining his gift—a pair of gardening gloves—to Pam. "So Karen made these for you while the material was available. They're essentially impenetrable, and also absorb the force of any direct hit."

Pam was smiling. "What is it you think I do in my garden, Anthony?"

"Oh, don't pretend like those Pitchers don't snap every once in a while," Anthony grinned. "But they'll also protect you from more routine injuries, like cuts or an errant trowel."

Pam pulled them on, flexing her hands. "I love them," she finally concluded, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you."

"Alright, Ant," Harley clapped. "You have given, and now you shall receive. You're up, Jo."

"OK, OK," Jo tapped Terry on the shoulder. "Can you hand Uncle Tony our gift, T? It's right there."

Terry nodded ardently, jumping to his feet and grabbing the square box from under the tree that grew out of Pam's greenhouse floor.

"Did you help pick this out for me?" Anthony asked, taking the box from him.

"Yeah, but it was Mom's idea," Terry told him.

"Well now I'm concerned."

"Oh, don't be a prick," Jo teased. "Come on. Open it."

Anthony glanced nervously over at Harley as he cautiously tore open the paper. She wanted to tell him that she wasn't responsible for whatever his sister had put in that box, but it was cute that her 39-year-old son was genuinely nervous, so she gave him a semi-reassuring shrug and a smile.

He frowned when he pulled back the lid of the box. "I don't…who is it?"

"How bout'cha take him out and see?" Jo suggested, her smile knowing and excited.

Anthony reached into the box and pulled out a figure—an action figure—wearing a gray three-piece suit and a blue tie. It had auburn hair, and…Anthony looked up at his sister, clutching the plastic in his hand. "Is it me?"

"It's you!" Jo confirmed, sitting forward onto her knees, looking like the animated child who'd squirmed with anticipation every Christmas while awaiting her turn. "And look, it comes with little accessories, like a drawing pad and a little engineer's toolbox, and you can put a lab coat and glasses on him if you want, those are in there too."

Anthony ran his finger reverently over the figure's plastic face, which had clearly been crafted with significant precision as the likeness was pretty damn impressive. "You made me an action figure…"

"Yeah," Jo grinned proudly. "I thought you could put him next to your Karens on the shelf."

"You can keep me company now," Karen chuckled, resting her chin on his shoulder from behind to peer at the figure in his hands. "Cute idea, Jo."

"Yep, and I'm on a roll so can I take another giving turn, Mom? Please?" Jo wondered, looking at Pam, out of habit, it seemed. Pam had dictated Christmas order for Jo's entire life, that clearly wasn't about to change.

"Go ahead," Pam acquiesced with a wave of her hand.

"Sweet," Jo pulled her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through what was probably her camera roll, Harley couldn't see from where she was sitting on Pam's lap in the grass, Duke occupying her empty wheelchair.

Damian leaned back to try and see what she was doing, but Jo pushed his face away, mumbling: "Be patient…" and then finally, "OK." She handed him the phone.

He took it, but his expression was puzzled. "Cute puppy," he granted. "Looks like my dog Titus."

"Mhm," Jo acknowledged. "Except for his name is Tyson. He's a 7-week-old Great Dane, which means he'll be ready to come home next w—,"

Damian was tackling her back into the grass before she could finish, and Harley felt Pam sit suddenly forward behind her, her body rigid…before Damian began peppering Jo's face with kisses.

Now Harley and Pam were alarmed for an entirely different reason, and looked at each other strangely in reaction to Jo's giggles. They'd never really witnessed Damian's…affection. And even so this outburst seemed wildly out of character.

"Is he really that much of an animal lover?" Pam whispered.

"Umm…well he had that pet cow, remember? When he was a kid?" Harley reminded her.

"How come you wouldn't get me a kitten?" Daisy asked, pouting.

"Um," Jo pushed Damian off of her with a final laugh to sit up. "Probably because we inherited about 100 cats from Grandma Kitty and I'd say 101 is officially overboard."

"Right," Anthony nodded sagely. "100, that's reasonable. But 101?"

"Insanity. And don't encourage her," Jo punched her brother in the arm.

"OK," Pam whispered into Harley's ear before raising her voice and beginning to stand, vines reaching out of the ground to hold Harley upright. "The last present is for your Mother, so perhaps a drumroll?"

Luke kindly provided it for them on Pam's work bench as she, herself, crossed to the back of the greenhouse, grabbing the key to the large tool cupboard from underneath the nearby shelf and sliding it into the lock.

Harley waited somewhat patiently, a bit annoyed that she couldn't turn around and see. Whatever it was sounded big, though, and Anthony seemed happy to see it, so yay? She shut her eyes tight in anticipation, waiting until she could feel Pam's presence in front of her.

"Open them," Pam gently instructed.

And Harley did, slowly, her lashes fluttering open. Her breath hitched in her throat when she saw it, but nothing was better than the look of cautious excitement on Pam's face.

The thing she was standing next to was as tall as she was, made from the same metal Harley's chair was, with a pad that ran down its upper length before the metal split into two parts, like legs separating from the pelvis. "What…what is it?"

"It's a standing chair," Pam announced. "With all terrain wheels and suspension so you can visit me in the garden, if you'd like, rather than having to stay on the porch or the path. You'll also be able to reach the counter, as it will raise you up to your original height, and…" she trailed off as Harley's eyes began to fill with tears. "What is it?"

"I missed the world from up there."

/

Duke watched Tiffany study each individual item still housed on Anthony's shelves. Every plant, every picture and poster on his walls…

"It's cool that your Grandparents kept it like this," she said, bending down to smile at an old Nightwing figurine. "Preserved it…it's like a time capsule."

"Yeah," Duke's mouth turned upwards at the corners. "I guess so."

"Do you think you would have been friends with your Dad if you were the same age?" Tiffany wondered, in what Duke thought was sort of a weird question. "I always wonder cuz my parents are so old, you know. I wonder if there was ever a time and place where they could have understood me."

"Well, um, my Dad was only like 24 when he had me," Duke explained. "So I guess I don't have to try too hard to imagine it. Sorta weird thinking about my parent's age difference, though. Like…I try to imagine myself falling in love with someone who was already 12 years old when I was born."

"Yeah, that's kinda trippy," Tiffany chuckled, taking a seat on the bed. "Your parents seem really cool, though. And they're a cute couple, so I guess…maybe we don't have to imagine it."

"Maybe," Duke smiled, scuffing his sneaker on the carpet, the metal chain warm in his pocket. "I, um, I got you something—for Christmas, I got you something. It's totally OK if you didn't get me anything, I just…umm…"

Tiffany was smirking shyly. "You got me a present?"

"I—yeah," Duke relaxed slightly upon seeing her expression. "It's stupid, but…" he pulled the necklace out of his pocket, hidden in his fist, and took a step towards her.

Tentatively, Tiffany raised her hand, holding it out for him, and Duke placed the gold chain in her palm. With a twitch of her lips, she pulled her hand back, lifting the necklace to see the pedant. It was a bird—a lark, to be exact, made of shining gold-painted medal.

"It's my favorite bird," Duke told her sheepishly. "I know it should probably be the Robin, but the Meadow Lark has this bright yellow on its belly that reminds me of my Mom."

Tiffany dragged her gaze slowly away from the necklace in her hand until she was looking him in the eye. "Then that's what you should be."

Duke furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you should be Lark, not Robin," Tiffany clarified, unclasping the necklace and holding it up to him. "Will you put it on me?"

"Oh, sure, yeah," Duke answered immediately, taking the metal back from her and climbing onto the bed, kneeling to clasp it around her neck. Once it was on he allowed his hands to lightly drift down her shoulders as she turned around to face him. "It looks really pretty on you."

"Thanks," Tiffany grinned. "I guess I should give you your present now."

Duke cocked his head, powerless against the warm feeling bubbling up in his chest. "You got me a present too?"

"Mmm…something like that," Tiffany whispered, leaning forward and gently pressing their lips together.

/

Harley slammed into the counter for the 15th time, though her expression remained gleeful.

"Harleen, the children are asleep," Pam scolded, dropping the plate she was cleaning into the soapy water. "Please, I'll take you to the park tomorrow and you can practice all day."

Harley mumbled something unintelligible, turning the chair and heading the other way…only to slam into the doorframe as she tried to exit. "Dang flabbit!"

Pam sighed, turning back to the task at hand until Luke showed up in the doorway beside Harley. "Have either of you seen Tiffany?" he asked. "I lost track of her after dinner."

"Last I saw, she and Duke were headed up to Anthony's room." Pam off-handedly reported.

"Shit, how long ago?"

Pam really didn't understand the problem, but told him "two hours, maybe?" anyway, and watched as he scurried off in the direction of the stairs.

Harley turned with a laugh. "Do you just assume every kid is gay?"

Pam scoffed, stripping off her dish gloves. "Only most."