All familiar characters belong to Janet.

Olivia's brown eyes lit up when Tank's massive frame filled them after we made it into his office without any bloodshed. It's clear she recognizes more than just her mother and I.

"Fork her over," he ordered Steph.

"Jeez, our daughter isn't a stack of pancakes you know."

Olive almost disappeared in his two hands when he picked her up. I caught an amused look on his normally expressionless face when it bent to my daughter's smiling one.

"She smells like a stack of pancakes," he told my wife.

Steph crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive gesture. "So I may have had a little syrup this morning. You try mommy-multitasking. Breastfeeding a baby while trying to cram in breakfast is not easy or neat, but if Ella makes me pancakes ... I'm eating them while they're still warm."

"I'll pass on the pancakes and that kind of multitasking. I have plenty of equipment, but not for that," he said.

He held Olivia up in front of him and her arms and legs moved as though swimming on land, her denim dress creating its own breeze as her sequined sneakers kicked the air. I see her accomplishing a full crawl in our immediate future.

"So ..." Tank continued, "Kane's here, that reeks of trouble."

"Yep," Steph told him. "All kinds of trouble. He's going to be a daddy."

Kane's grin was back, this time directed at Tank. "I hope you've learned a thing or two about kid-sitting from them."

"Shit. You reproduced?" He asked Kane.

"The pee stick and now the doctor both say yes. And I plan on calling in favors right and left. Do you prefer Uncle Tank or Zio Pierre?"

Tank's answer was a solid shot to Kane's midsection with his fist, while his other arm kept Olivia tucked protectively against his chest.

A/N: 'Zio' is uncle in Italian.