Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay. I'll admit that this story is getting harder to write.

I've chosen middle names for Maeve and Otis. Please let me know if the show contradicts me.

Thank you for continuing to read and I hope there's some enjoyment to be had from this chapter.

Chapter 29

Maeve sat on the lounge beside Otis, his arm around her. She tilted her head back, opening her mouth as Otis slowly lowered his free hand toward it. Maeve moved her head forward and wrapped her lips around the grape dangling from his fingers. She drew it into her mouth and began chewing.

Otis took another grape from the bowl nestled in his lap and waited until Maeve finished swallowing the first grape then lifted his hand again and held it above her face.

"Oh, just give me the bowl," Maeve said with amused impatience.

"Aimee said I needed to be sweet with you tonight, so…"

Otis lowered the grape slowly and Maeve opened her mouth and again used her lips to snatch it from his fingers.

"She didn't mean to treat me like I can't feed myself," Maeve said after she had swallowed the second grape.

"I'm treating you like a queen," Otis said as he fed her a third grape.

"Which queen?" Maeve asked after she finished swallowing the third grape.

"Queen Cleopatra," Otis said with a flourish of the hand carrying a fourth grape.

"I don't want a snake biting my boob," Maeve said then took the fourth grape from him.

"Queen Nefertiti," Otis said, holding out a fifth grape.

"Bit obvious for a boob man," Maeve said and moved her mouth deeper onto his fingers before dragging her lips along them and capturing the fifth grape.

Otis pressed his lips together to capture his sigh and did not reach into the bowl for a sixth grape.

Maeve's eyes glittered as she smirked and leaned closer to him and whispered, "I have big nefers."

Otis pointedly ignored her and reached for his phone sitting on the lounge beside himself.

Maeve's smirk increased as she reached into the bowl for another grape while watching Otis use his thumb to tap on his phone.

"What are you searching for?" she asked and popped the grape into her mouth.

Otis tilted his phone away from her without answering.

"Hey," she mock-protested. "I'll tell Aimee you're not being sweet to me."

"I am being sweet by keeping the surprise until the moment of revelation," Otis said in a very formal tone.

Maeve reached into the bowl and grabbed a grape and raised her hand and pressed it against Otis' lips.

Without looking away from his phone, he opened his mouth and drew the grape inside and began chewing.

Maeve noticed a sense of satisfaction ripple through him and he turned the phone so she could see the image on the screen.

"Queen Boadicea," Otis said, proud of his find.

"Makes me sound like a surfer chick," Maeve said. "'I'm bodacious, dude.'"

Otis' body rippled with supressed laughter as he tilted his phone away from her again.

"Keanu's another one," Maeve said idly, taking another grape from the bowl. "He's hot."

Otis registered surprise at the result of his continued search. "Here's the perfect one," he said, tilting the phone so she could see. "Queen Maeve, or…" he studied the text uncertainly. "Meadhbh," he continued, completely mangling the name.

"Mum told me that's the way you spell Maeve in Gaelic."

"You knew of her?" Otis asked, surprised.

"Mum says she named me after her."

"Why didn't you say?"

"I wasn't thinking," Maeve said, taking another grape from the bowl and popping it into her mouth. She watched Otis reading the text on the screen.

He gave a small snort of pleased surprise. "Have you ever looked up the meaning of your name?"

"No," Maeve said.

"'Intoxicating'," Otis said, holding the phone closer so she could clearly see the text on the screen.

Maeve was silent for a moment then said, "Well, you did say a lot of alcohol would make you stiff and a lot of me makes you stiff."

"A little of you makes me stiff," Otis said, putting the phone on the lounge beside himself.

"Hey," Maeve protested. "Look up 'Otis'."

"It's boring," Otis said glumly as he took a grape from the bowl and ate it.

"What does it mean?" Maeve asked.

"Ear," Otis said.

"What?" Maeve asked, confused.

"Or prosperous."

Maeve sighed. "Well, this is a nice house. Chalet," she amended.

"My middle name's a little better," Otis said.

"What is your middle name?" Maeve asked, curiously.

"'Frederick'," Otis said.

"What does that mean?" Maeve asked.

"'Peaceful ruler'," Otis said.

Maeve smiled gently. "I'm a queen and a princess and you're a prince and a king."

"Peaceful ruler," Otis corrected her.

"A peaceful ruling king," she said firmly.

"Is this more of Silly Maeve?" Otis asked.

"This is Fucking-Soft-In-The-Fucking-Head Maeve," Maeve said, mock-pouting.

Maeve and Otis sat on the lounge, legs stretched along the footstool before them, heads leaning against the back of the lounge, eyes closed and his arm still around her while the music played softly in the background.

"What's your middle name?" Otis eventually asked.

"Don't have one," Maeve said.

"Really?" Otis asked.

"Too poor. Mum couldn't afford one."

"Are you serious?" Otis asked, mildly surprised.

"You've seen where I live."

"I mean, are you serious about not having a middle name?"

Maeve was silent for a moment then, with a gentle sigh, said, "Georgina."

"That's a nice name," Otis said.

"They don't really fit. Maeve Georgina Wiley. I don't like it."

"I think it's nice," murmured Otis.

"You would," Maeve said with a gently pleased tone then, after a moment, she frowned and opened her eyes and sat forward. "Where's your phone?"

Otis opened his eyes and glanced beside himself and picked up his phone and handed it to Maeve.

"Thanks," she murmured and began tapping away.

"What are you looking up?" Otis asked, curiously.

"The meaning of Georgina," she said then scrunched her face.

"Not a good one?"

"Farmer," she said, disappointed.

"An intoxicating farmer," Otis said.

Maeve gave a hum of pleasure.

"It means something else as well?" Otis asked.

"No, the meaning of Aimee's name," Maeve said. "Beloved."

"That fits," Otis said.

"Yeah," Maeve said, satisfied, and handed the phone back to Otis.

Otis placed the phone beside himself and Maeve snuggled closer against him, arm resting across his waist. They remained in silence for a while and let the soft music wash over them.

"I apologised to Ola," Maeve eventually murmured. "For saying that stuff at the dance."

"Did she accept?" Otis asked, quietly.

"Yeah," Maeve murmured.

"Is that why you wanted her to stay?"

Maeve was silent for a long moment then murmured, "I just wanted to see what she was like. What made you interested enough in her to ask her to the dance."

"I bumped into her when she was applying to the school and there was all the dance stuff around and she said she likes dances and I got the impression she was trying to give me a hint and I just asked her. She had already asked me if I wanted to go out sometime and gave me her number so I knew she liked me."

Maeve was silent and Otis glanced down at her.

"We don't have to hang out with her if you don't want me to," he said.

"No, she's nice. She's smart. She doesn't fancy you anymore," she said, softly smiling.

"There were a few moments where it seemed as if you were thinking you had made a mistake inviting her. That you were…"

"Jealous?"

"Something like that," Otis murmured.

Maeve was silent for a moment, then murmured, "I was jealous of the thought of you going shopping with her. I was jealous of you celebrating victory with her. I was jealous she made you blush. I was jealous you were making her laugh. I wanted to be the only girl you make laugh."

"Don't make Aimee and Ola laugh," Otis said in his most serious tone. "Got it."

"You can make Aimee laugh," Maeve murmured.

The song changed and they settled into silence again.

"I really enjoyed today," Otis eventually said. "I'm glad you thought about inviting everybody."

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" Maeve said after a moment, softly surprised. "I'm not used to it," she continued after a few more moments of silence.

"What?" asked Otis, not understanding.

"Hanging out like that. Dinner like that. Playing a game like that. Sitting around shooting the shit like that with people I actually like being around."

"Yeah, I'm not used to it either," murmured Otis. "It's another thing you've given me."

"I don't recognise myself."

"You played the drunk farmgirl in that movie set after the apocalypse, didn't you?"

Maeve rolled her eyes fondly. "What movie was that?"

"Z for Zachariah."

"Have you seen all her films?" she asked after a moment.

"Not yet."

"That she's actually filmed,"

"Not yet."

"That have been released."

"I think so."

"How old were you when you saw Wolf Of Wall Street?"

"Thirteen."

"What did you do when you saw that scene?"

"Covered my face."

"Of course you did," she murmured with a soft smile.

"Mum was watching it with me."

Maeve moved her head against his shoulder and settled into silence again.

"I told mum we haven't had sex," Otis eventually said. "She was talking about staying at Gramps and sneaking between rooms and all that implies and I just told her."

Maeve kept silent as she waited for him to say more.

"I told her that there are times I think I want to just have sex – always with your agreement. I'm not saying anything where I'm not considering your agreement."

"I understand, muppet," Maeve said softly. "I know the qualifiers are there even if you don't say them."

"I told her sometimes I want to have sex—I'm ready to have sex," he amended. "And other times, I'm still uncertain."

"You want to tell her everything, don't you?" Maeve asked, then waited until she was sure Otis was not going to respond. "I think you should. It's your choice, but I think you should."

"I wouldn't know how to start."

"Just tell her you need to talk to her."

Otis sighed, Maeve let silence settle over them again and they heard the sound of the front door shutting.

Jean stepped cautiously into the loungeroom and relaxed as she noticed the fully-dressed Otis and Maeve snuggling on the lounge, legs stretched along the foot stool.

"What time do you call this?" Otis asked in his most serious tone of voice.

Jean held up her wrist and looked at an invisible watch. "Two minutes before my curfew."

"Did you have a good time?" Maeve asked.

"Yes, I did," Jean said and bent over to begin removing her shoe. "And how was your evening?"

"It was good," Maeve said.

"Yeah," Otis agreed.

"Did Ola seem to have a good time?" Jean asked.

"I think so," Otis said.

"That was very nice, inviting her to stay, Otis," Jean said as she took off her other shoe.

"It was Maeve's idea," Otis said.

"That was a very nice idea, Maeve," Jean said, glancing at her thoughtfully.

"Well, if she's going to be his stepsister, then he needs to be able to get along with her," Maeve said as innocently as she could.

"I think the consideration of that possibility is a little premature," Jean said, amused, as she sat down in the armchair.

"I told Maeve about your offer to stay this week. And weekends. Holidays," Otis said.

"Thanks, Jean," Maeve said, gratefully.

"You're welcome," Jean said. "And next term, you both will still need to study, but if you want to stay over occasionally, I have no problem with that, either."

"We can study together," Otis said.

"And I can imagine how distracted you may get if you were constantly studying together," Jean said, amused.

"Yeah, probably a good thing, muppet," Maeve said. "We can't spend all our time together. We'll get sick of each other."

"Once you get married, you may be surprised how often the time apart diminishes and how much you won't mind," Jean said with a gentle smile.

"Mum," Otis protested as Maeve pressed her lips together.

"Payback," Jean murmured with a smile then said, "Why don't you come for movie nights?"

"Yeah, come for movie nights," Otis agreed, enthusiastically. "Hey, why don't we have Maeve pick the movie this week?"

"Is there anything you're interested in, Maeve?" Jean asked.

"So what type of movies do you watch?" Maeve asked. "Just rom-coms?"

"Lots of movies," Otis said.

"Nothing too grim," Jean said. "I don't mind thrillers. Dramas. Occasionally we'll watch Otis' type of movies. I don't mind some of them."

"Have you seen Clueless, Jean?" Maeve asked.

"No."

"Do you think we could watch Clueless?" Maeve asked Otis.

"Of course. We were going to, remember?"

"Sounds good," Maeve said.

"Excellent," Jean said, stifling a yawn. "I think that's my cue to go to bed," she said as she stood.

"Did Ola's dad like your dress?" Maeve asked.

"I don't think Jakob was paying any particular attention to the dress," Jean murmured as she gathered her shoes and began walking up the stairs. "See you in the morning."

"She seems… mellow," Maeve murmured as Jean disappeared from view.

"She's different than with her… other guys…" Otis murmured.

"You said she seemed serious about Ola's dad."

"Yeah," Otis said thoughtfully.

"What's he like?"

"I'm not sure. The most time I've spent around him was the thing with Lily."

"Why not offer to cook a meal for him and Jean one night?" Maeve suggested.

"Ola said she was going to invite all of us over for a meal. Can get to know him then."

"She probably meant just us. Not Jean and her dad."

"You'd come?"

"Of course. Wouldn't let you out of my sight with her," Maeve said with a smile in her voice. "Joking. She wouldn't have said what she did if I had anything to worry about."

"Lulling you into a false sense of security?" Otis teased.

"That's not being sweet," Maeve pouted.

"Sorry. I didn't mean…" Otis murmured. "Stupid joke."

"Do you think it's time we went to bed?" Maeve asked.

"Sure. I am a bit tired."

"Well, I wasn't thinking of going to sleep straightaway," Maeve said with a smirk.

"Oh?" Otis asked, intrigued. "What were you thinking of doing instead?"

"Well, you watched me last night. Only fair I get a chance to watch you."

Day 11

Maeve carried her bowl of cereal out into the morning sun and noticed Jean sitting at the balcony table in her gown, reading the newspaper.

"Morning, Maeve," Jean said.

"Morning," Maeve said as she sat down. "Where's Otis?"

"He said he had something to do in the storeroom."

Maeve looked puzzled.

"Remi turned the space underneath the house into a storeroom," Jean explained. "It's been very useful."

Maeve began eating her cereal. "I can't believe I slept this late."

"Are you still experiencing your period?"

Maeve nodded. "Uh-huh."

"There are times I would sleep the entire weekend when I was your age. It took a while before I got used to them."

"Do you still get them?"

"Yes."

"Are they bad?"

"They can be. It's a relief those months when they aren't."

"This month… I think this is the easiest month I've ever had."

"Have you ever been in love when you've been on your period?" Jean asked then winced at herself. "I'm sorry. I promised Otis I wouldn't pry."

"It's okay, Jean," Maeve said. "Never. I mean… No, I've never been in love when I've had my period."

"Physical touch triggers the production of oxytocin which reduces physical pain. That's a possible reason."

"Yeah, I have been really cuddly," Maeve said with a soft smile in her voice.

"I've noticed," Jean said, tenderly.

"I'm not normally like that," Maeve said quietly.

"Different people engender different responses," Jean said.

"It's so different," Maeve murmured then caught herself and focussed on her bowl of cereal.

Jean opened her mouth to say something then reconsidered and picked up her drink and took a sip.

"You're not working this weekend?" Jean asked as she put down her cup.

"Last weekend was a fluke. They don't give me many hours now I'm seventeen."

"I presume you get government support for continuing your studies."

"Yeah," Maeve murmured.

"I also presume it doesn't go very far."

"Not since my brother took off."

"Tell me not to pry, but… are you in debt?"

"Not in debt," Maeve said. "I've managed to cover the bills from what I got last weekend. Next ones aren't due for a bit."

"Do you have sources of income other than the job at Speedy Grill?"

"Muppet's trying to help me figure out something I can do."

"Have you come up with anything?"

"He says I should tutor people."

"That sounds feasible. You seem a highly intelligent woman."

"I doubt anybody's going to want me to tutor them."

"Why not? No need to answer if you think I'm prying."

Maeve was silent for a moment, then said, "I have a… 'reputation'." She almost spat out the word.

"Otis did mention that," Jean said calmly. "No details."

"Some of it is based on real things."

"Reputations and rumours may have a kernel of truth as their basis. That still doesn't legitimize them."

"He never believed them."

"Good," Jean murmured.

Maeve put down her near-empty bowl of cereal. "We'll figure something out."

"If I hear of anything I think may be suitable, I'll let you know."

"Thanks," Maeve murmured, appreciatively, reaching into her jacket for her pack of cigarettes. "Do you mind me smoking?"

"Of course not. The ashtrays are on the table for just that reason."

"Do you smoke?" Maeve asked, lighting up.

"It's been over seventeen years. No, the ashtrays are for my clients."

"Do you ever still have a jonesing for one?"

"Sometimes."

"I should give them up," Maeve muttered. "They're starting to cost a fortune. I can't afford them."

"And it would be good for your health."

"Yeah," Maeve murmured.

Maeve stepped into the storeroom, now dressed in a comfortable top and her favourite skirt. She held the executive toy in her hand.

She saw Otis standing over an upended bicycle and he seemed to be using a screwdriver to adjust something on it.

"Just give me a minute to finish this," he said without turning.

Maeve put the executive toy on the nearby bench then walked over to him. "You're not doing anything dangerous if I hugged you, are you?"

"No," Otis said with a smile in his voice.

Maeve leant against his back and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his shoulder. "I love your mum."

"Did you two…?" Otis asked, cautiously.

"Nothing serious. It's just… she's so nice to talk to."

"There," Otis said and put the screwdriver back in the toolkit sitting on the stool that he had placed beside himself.

"It's okay?" Maeve asked as she released him and stepped back, allowing him to straighten up.

"Looks to be. Just had to pump the tires, oil the chain, tighten the pedal, give it a clean," Otis said, turning to face her.

"So we can go for a bit of a ride later?" Maeve asked.

"Uh-huh. You can ride my bike. I mean, my current bike."

"I don't mind riding this one."

"It looks okay but I won't know for sure until I ride it, so I'd feel more comfortable with you riding the bike that I know is in good condition."

Maeve smiled fondly at him and stepped into his arms, reaching up for a kiss.

When it was over, she stepped back then walked to the bench and picked up the executive toy.

"So show me how to do this," she said, holding out the toy for him.

Otis took it with a smile and prepared himself. "It's addictive, isn't it?"

"I just want to get to the point where it's relaxing, not stressful."

"Let it settle," Otis said. "Then… straight up," he continued, snapping his wrist up and catching the barrel on the spindle.

"How long did it take you to get it?" Maeve asked.

"Ages," he said as he handed the toy back to her.

Maeve held out the spindle and let the barrel settle. "Get behind me. Show me how."

Otis smiled to himself and stepped behind her, putting his arms around her. "Is this one of the boyfriend/girlfriend things you've been thinking about?"

"Well, you don't have a tennis racquet or a baseball bat, do you?"

"No."

"Have to make do."

Maeve held Otis' hand as they walked toward the table that his father had built down by the river. The table had clearly been subject to the elements over the years.

"How long since you've been down here?" Maeve asked.

"A long time ago. Mum, Eric and me came down here for a picnic soon after I met Eric. I think that was the last time."

"How did you meet Eric?"

"Soon after he moved here. I was just sitting having lunch and he asked me if he could sit with me. Nobody else wanted him sitting with them."

"People suck," Maeve muttered.

"He told me he had the new Zelda game and asked me if I wanted to come over and play."

"What's his family like?"

"They seem nice. He's got lots of sisters. It's a very noisy household. That's why we play mostly at my place now."

Maeve looked at the view across the river then turned and studied the view from the way they had travelled.

"This really is a nice spot but there's no way I am having sex on that table," she said.

"Yeah," Otis murmured. "I didn't think it'd be in that bad shape."

Maeve studied him, intrigued. "You'd really do it if it wasn't?"

Otis shrugged. "I said I would."

"You said you'd have sex in the little inlet, not on the table."

"Well, if you wanted to… I mean, I wouldn't choose to do it myself but if you wanted to, I would."

"Don't do things just for me."

"But if doing something that makes you happy makes me happy, then aren't I doing it for myself?"

"Where's this inlet?" Maeve asked.

"Over there," Otis said, and led the way toward some trees.

After a minute's walk through some undergrowth Maeve saw the little inlet Otis and Jean had talked about. It wasn't particularly an attractive area but it definitely was private.

"How deep is it?" Maeve asked.

"You'd probably be covered up to your squirrels if you were standing on the bottom."

"What's the bottom like? Is it jagged? Shit dumped in there?"

"There never used to be, but then… I was only this high when I swam in there." Otis held out his hand to show his height. "You can always ask mum what it's like."

"Aren't you worried she'll figure out why we want to swim here?"

"I'm getting not to be. I told her we hadn't, remember?"

"Do you want to try it out? We can leave our shoes on."

"We didn't bring towels with us."

"We can air-dry."

"It's a bit cold."

"Just means I can point the way."

Otis frowned, not getting her meaning.

"High beams," Maeve said, waving her hand in the general direction of her breasts.

Otis pressed his lips together to quash his smirk. "I'll see if I can fix the table up. Ask Jakob if he can get some timber for me. Then we can come down, have a picnic and… split our time between the two."

"Sounds nice. Are you good with building things?"

"How hard can it be?"

"You're talking about fixing the table, aren't you?"

Otis and Maeve rode his bikes along a small country lane.

"Is this where you and Eric come riding?" she asked.

"This is the easy trail. There's others that are a bit more difficult but we'll wait until you've had a bit more practice."

"It's nice and quiet out here."

"Yeah, that's one of the things I like about it."

"Where's this place you said we were going to?"

"Not much further."

"What makes it special?"

"It's where I come to be alone. To think. To get away."

"From your mum?"

Otis nodded. "And myself."

"I try to get away from myself sometimes. I always seem to follow me."

Otis smiled. "Three months ago I never thought you'd be so soft. Fun, yeah. Great to be around. But not soft."

"How's that bike? Is it okay?"

"Yeah, it's feeling as if it's good."

"I can ride it back."

"If you want. Do you want me to paint it for you?"

"Soft shade of pink?"

"Well, it is the colour you've chosen to help define your presence to the world."

Maeve smirked and remained silent.

"No, I was thinking more of a soft violet," Otis said.

"Nah, it's fine," Maeve said. "That colour's okay."

"Do you want to keep the bike at your place? You can ride it to school."

"Nah. I'd have to keep it inside so it didn't get nicked and it'd just get in the way. But thanks."

Maeve and Otis sat on a fallen tree in the forest, the bikes lying on the ground nearby, lunch items placed on the space between them.

"It's kind of weird that Groff didn't suspend you until end of term when we've only got a week left," Otis said.

"I think he wanted to but Miss Sands convinced him that I should be here for the two tests we have."

"How did she do that?"

"She knows I wrote the essay."

"So why did she let him suspend you at all?"

"I think she had to give him some victory."

"It'll be good having you back at school," Otis said.

Maeve took a bite from her sandwich and studied the surrounding area. "Yeah," she murmured.

"We can continue the clinic," Otis said.

"Are you sure?" Maeve asked quietly.

"Yeah, but… I can't do anything like the Liam thing again. I… mum suggested if someone comes to me for advice I point them to someone if I don't think I can help them."

"What type of things are you still willing to help people with?"

"Things like with Ruthie and Tanya. Aimee."

"How am I supposed to know what things fit? They don't often go into details with me."

"Take the money. Make the booking. And if I don't think I can help them, we'll give the money back."

"Okay."

"Do you want me to ask clients if they need a tutor?"

"What?" Maeve laughed. "'Do you want cock-biter to teach you how to bite cocks?'"

"I'd be a little more subtle than that."

"What would you say?"

"Have you ever considered the benefits of the dental aspect of oral-genital gratification?"

Maeve giggled. "Never thought I'd ever be able to laugh about it."

"That was more a giggle than a laugh."

"Fuck off," she said, amused.

"So do you want me to ask?"

Maeve nodded. "Thanks," she said, gratefully. "Y'know, we should have brought a blanket."

"Why?"

"So we can make out," Maeve said as if it was obvious.

Maeve waited near the bikes and watched as Otis emerged from the shop carrying two ice cream cones. When he reached her, he held one out to her.

"Does this count toward the meals?" she asked, mock-hesitantly.

"Of course not," Otis said.

Maeve took the proffered cone from him and had a taste. "Thanks."

"You've still got some grass in your hair," he said.

Maeve reached up, feeling her hair. "Where?"

Otis reached over and plucked the tuft of grass stuck in Maeve's hair and tossed it away. He glanced down.

"Oh, and I think there's still some on your skirt," he said.

Maeve brushed her hand across her skirt.

"Let me," Otis said and brushed the grass from her skirt.

"Fondling my bum in public, muppet? You have changed."

"It's a very nice bum," Otis whispered in her ear.

"Pervert," Maeve said with a grin.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay tonight? If there's anything you need for tomorrow, we can ride over and pick it up."

"You won't get sick of me?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

"I've got some studying I need to do."

"Bring it over. We can show mum that we can study without getting distracted."

"But then I'd have to ride the bike to school and then ride it back before I go home. Aimee's coming over."

"I'll give you a lift again."

Maeve pondered for a moment then rested her head on his shoulder. "Twisted my arm."

"Great. Once we finish these, we'll collect your stuff," Otis said then remembered something. "You have that photo of your mum with you, don't you?"

"It's at your place. Do you want to see it again?"

"Is that the only photo of your mum?"

"Yeah," Maeve murmured and Otis could sense her regret.

"Do you have another copy of it? Or the negative?"

"No."

"I can take a scan of it. Just in case something happens to it. Then you'll always have an offsite backup."

"Sure?"

"It's not a problem. Mum's got the scanner."

"Thanks," Maeve said, gratefully. "I never thought of doing that."

"I've celebrated International Backup Awareness Day once or twice."

"What?"

"I've lost things because I didn't have a backup."

"So have you got old photos of when you were young?"

"Mum has a lot of photo albums. I can show you when we get back."

"Photo albums," Maeve murmured, amused.

"Yeah. Mum's old school."

Otis and Maeve stepped into Jean's office. Otis held out his hand and Maeve passed the photo to him. He walked over to the flatbed scanner.

Maeve looked around the room, noticing the girlie magazines on the top shelf.

"Did you ever seek out reading material?" she asked with a smirk.

Otis glanced at her, noticed the direction of her gaze and began to blush.

"Not to actually read," he said.

"What did you do with them?" she asked as she turned to look at him. He was silent and Maeve walked over to him, smirking. "Come on. What did you do?"

"I used them to pretend I was masturbating," he said, sheepishly.

Maeve looked at him puzzled. "What?"

"I wanted mum to think I was… normal. Like other guys. So I put one on my bed, put some lotion in some tissues and spread them around. So mum would think I was masturbating."

"Did it work?"

"No. She knew I was pretending."

"Of course she fucking did," Maeve said, shaking her head in amused disbelief. "You should have shoved the magazine under the mattress with the corner sticking out, done the thing with the tissues but put them in the bin and knocked the bin over so she couldn't miss seeing them. You had to make it look as if you were hiding it from her."

"Yeah," Otis murmured, wryly.

"Did you really want her to think you were jerking off or was it a cry for help?"

"If it was a cry for help, it wasn't a good one. I got really annoyed when she told me she knew I was only pretending to masturbate."

"I can tell her you're no longer pretending," Maeve said with a smirk.

"I don't think that's necessary."

Maeve turned away from him and looked around the room, her eyes alighting on the sculpture hung upon the wall. "Fuck," she said, surprised.

"What?" asked Otis, looking at her.

"That," she said, walking over to it.

"The Sword," Otis said.

"What?" asked Maeve, taking it from the wall.

"It's called The Sword," Otis said.

Maeve studied it then held it out as if measuring it against Otis. "That's about Kermit's size," she said. "Proportionally. Maybe you could use this for your costume."

"Mum never liked me touching it," Otis murmured, apologetically. "I really don't think she'd like that."

Maeve shrugged and returned the sculpture to its place on the wall. "You used to touch it?"

"Well, it is called The Sword," he said, sheepishly.

"You used it as a sword?" Maeve asked, amused, as she returned to his side and snuggled against him.

"I think it was a lightsaber," Otis said, sheepishly. "I loved being Luke Skywalker."

"It was Han who got the princess," Maeve murmured.

Maeve and Otis sat at the kitchen table, their mathematics textbooks spread in front of them. Maeve was watching Otis as he studied the book before him intently then tentatively began to write in a notebook.

When he finished, he pushed the notebook toward Maeve. "How's that? Is that it?"

Maeve studied his workings and nodded, gently pleased. "Yeah, that's right."

"Oh, thank god," Otis said, sitting back with a sigh. "Why can't Mr Wilson explain it as clearly as you do?"

"Maybe I could ask if I can be a teaching assistant?" Maeve said with a smirk.

"I'd vouch for you," Otis said.

"Do you want to go onto the next section?"

Otis glanced at the clock and said, "No, that's about an hour. My brain will start dribbling out my ears if I do any more today."

"What about the essay for Miss Sands? Do you need any help with that?"

"In a little bit. Need a break."

"So are we cooking again tonight?"

"Mum's going to do it. Chicken cacciatore."

"Mmmm," hummed Maeve, approvingly.

"So what do you want to do after dinner?"

"Dunno. What do you normally do on Sunday nights?"

"Nothing specific. We can watch a movie. Play a game. Listen to music again."

"Is Emma Thompson really second on your list or did you just snatch a name out of thin air?"

"No, she is really attractive. She used to be first until…"

"You like older women, don't you?"

"I prefer the term mature. Physically, intellectually and emotionally."

"Wouldn't say I'm emotionally mature," Maeve murmured.

"Then you would be wrong."

"That's not being sweet," Maeve mock-pouted.

"Aimee said I only had to be sweet to you last night. Today, I am able to treat you as I normally would."

Maeve smirked to herself. "So how about those photo albums?"

"You want to look at them?"

"No, I want to put them on a bonfire and watch them burn."

"Stupid question," Otis said, sheepishly.

"Very stupid question," Maeve agreed, amused.

"I'll just get them," Otis said, standing and hurrying into the loungeroom.

Maeve shook her head and began to close the books spread across the table.

When Otis returned carrying several photo albums, she moved the stack of books aside and allowed him to put his cargo down. As he sat down, he reached into his pocket and placed three banknotes on the table before her.

She looked at them, expressionless, then turned to him, noting how he was opening one of the photo albums and deliberately not looking at her.

She sighed then drew two of the notes toward herself and pushed one back towards him. "Thanks," she murmured as she picked up the two notes and put them in her pocket.

Otis' body slumped in relief and he turned to her. "There. You're now officially a tutor."

Maeve leaned toward him and put her arm around him and drew him toward her for a kiss.

"I love you," she murmured.

"I know," Otis said, picking up the third note and returning it to his pocket.

"Was that your Han Solo impersonation?" she asked, scrunching her face.

He shrugged noncommittally then put an open photo album on the table in front of her. "This is the earliest one with me."

Maeve glanced down and studied the first photo showing a tired but glowing Jean lying in what was obviously a hospital bed with a clearly newly-born Otis clutched to her breast.

Otis, Maeve and Jean sat at the kitchen table, eating their meal.

"It looked like it was a really nice honeymoon," Maeve said.

"It was," Jean said. "Upolu Island was incredibly beautiful. We spent an entire afternoon in the To Sua Trench. It was so restful."

"Were there many other people there?"

"Half-a-dozen," Jean said. "Maybe eight. One of them was also on their honeymoon."

"How many islands did you visit?"

"Let's see…" Jean pondered, trying to recollect. "Upolu and Savai'i. Then we went to Vanuatu for several days. Visited Efate and Tanna Island as well as Espiritu Santo. The Champagne Beach is also beautiful. You should go there on your honeymoon."

"Mum," Otis protested.

"Still paying me back," Maeve said, wryly.

"I think we then went to Fiji and after that Bora Bora and the Cook Islands. It was a very eclectic order. Remi had arranged with a friend at the travel agency for a personalised itinerary so we could spend a few days at each place but it did mean we were hopping aboard different standard cruises part way through so the onboard accommodations weren't the most luxurious."

"How long was your honeymoon?"

"Six weeks."

"That long?" asked Maeve, surprised.

"Remi's first book had just been published so we were indulging. We did write an article about the benefits of a honeymoon for professional couples. That helped offset the cost. And about a year later we used it for a series of articles about how to adjust when the honeymoon is over. Not in a bad way," Jean hurriedly asserted. "That came later. No, just a way of understanding the difference between the magic of the honeymoon and the return to relative mundanity."

"What difference?"

"Interpersonal dynamics. Sex," Jean said then noticed Otis' reaction. "Probably best if I let you read it."

"Thanks," Maeve said.

"Which reminds me. I still haven't given you a copy of my book."

"Was it easy to get published, mum?" Otis asked.

"No. Few publishers cared to take on a discussion of female sexuality at the time. I can't remember how many rejections I had before Bright & Sanders accepted the manuscript."

"What about the magazine articles?"

"Those were a little easier but very few were submitted on-spec. The original honeymoon article came about because we were schmoozing at Remi's book launch and happened to schmooze the right person."

"What are you thinking?" Maeve asked, warily.

"You could write something," Otis said. "See if you can get it published somewhere."

"Get real."

"I'm serious."

"What would I write about?"

"I don't know. That would be up to you."

"You are a talented writer, Maeve," Jean said. "That essay had some very perceptive insights."

"You could see if you can get something published in the school newsletter," Otis said. "Just as a start."

"And what would I write about? How to—" She clamped her lips together just in time.

"You'll think of something," Otis said, trying to conceal his amusement. "Ask them what they need."

"Nah," Maeve said firmly, shaking her head.

Jean glanced between them then reached for her plate and began to stand. "I think I should call your grandfather now. If you're having dessert, just set some aside for me. I shan't be long."

"Okay," Otis said and waited until she had left the room. "I'm sorry," he said to Maeve. "I'm just trying to think of something."

"I know," Maeve said.

"Do you do fiction? Maybe you can get a short story published."

"Who publishes short stories these days?"

"I don't know. There must be somewhere."

"I never get really good marks for the fiction stuff."

"Can I read some? I mean, that story we were supposed to write last year. About somebody facing an ethical dilemma. I can show you what I wrote."

"You show me yours, I'll show you mine?" Maeve smirked.

"Yeah."

"I'll see if I can find it," Maeve conceded.

"So do you want dessert?"

"Do you still have the strawberry roulade?"

"I think so."

Jean sat at her usual place at the end of the balcony table, watching Otis as he sat beside Maeve, holding her hand, thinking she had never seen him happier.

"And we can go to the museums," he was saying, enthusiastically. "You'll love the museums. We can go to Hyde Park. You can stand in Speaker's Corner and give a rousing speech about The Suffragettes. We can go up in The Eye and visit the Aquarium. Cruise on The Thames. Oh, Picadilly Circus. Have you ever seen An American Werewolf In London?"

"No," Maeve said, smiling at his enthusiasm.

"Well, the theatre isn't there anymore but I can show you where it used to be. Oh, and we can go window shopping in Oxford Street and Harrod's, if you want. Not to buy anything. Just look."

"Sounds like we'll be rushing about everywhere."

"Not all in one day."

"Sounds really nice," Maeve said, softly. "Thank you," she said, sharing her gaze between Otis and Jean.

"My father is really looking forward to meeting you," Jean said to her.

"He sounded really surprised that I actually had a girlfriend," Otis said.

"So…" began Maeve, tentatively. "Your mother…?"

"She passed," Jean said. "A few years ago."

"I'm sorry."

Jean nodded her appreciation of the sentiment. "It was peaceful. As those things go."

"Grams was really nice," Otis said. "I really liked her."

"That's because she spoilt you rotten," Jean said.

Both Otis and Jean noticed a momentary sadness flicker across Maeve's face.

"So, had you planned on watching anything tonight, mum?" Otis asked Jean quickly.

"I have some reading I need to catch up on."

"Do you want to watch An American Werewolf In London?" Otis asked Maeve. "It's a horror film. But it's funny."

"And gory," Jean cautioned.

"I don't mind gory," Maeve said.

"I suppose you don't if you've used your hatchet on that many bodies," Otis said. He turned to Jean. "If I go missing, mum, tell them to look in the woods behind Maeve's caravan park."

"Otis," Maeve protested, amused.

"I'll bear that in mind," Jean smirked.

"Just preparing my life insurance policy," Otis said to Maeve.

"Okay, let's watch it," Maeve said.

"I'll go find it. It's a DVD," he said and hurried into the house.

Maeve picked up her pack of cigarettes from the table and took one. She lit it and took a puff, pondering in silence.

"Is something wrong, Maeve?" Jean asked gently.

Maeve shook her head and took another puff of her cigarette.

Jean seemed about to speak then kept silent.

"I never knew my grandparents," Maeve finally said. "Dad… they were never part of our life. And Mum… they were gone before I was born. Before my brother was born."

Jean looked at her compassionately.

Maeve sighed. "I've wondered… sometimes… if they were still around…" She shook her head to bring herself out of her mood. "Thanks, Jean. I really appreciate it. Can you let his Gramps know next time you speak to him? Please?"

"I will," Jean said, gently.

"And thanks for letting me stay. This is just… I'm so not used to this."

"To what?"

"Having someplace to just hang with someone. Having someone to hang with. I mean, Aimee, but… her olds don't like having me around."

"It's a pleasure to have you here," Jean murmured.

"I mean, yeah, sure, my last boyfriend but… it's different. We weren't… Shit, I don't know why I'm saying this. Must still be on my rags."

Jean sighed. "That is a toxic narrative that needs to be retired. I'm surprised a smart woman like you would feed into it."

Maeve nodded, subdued. "Yeah. Eric and Otis kept telling me not to blame my period."

"But it's an easy way to deflect, isn't it?" murmured Jean after a moment. "Sorry. No therapizing. But I have an ear to hear if you ever have a desire to talk."

Maeve opened her mouth to speak and Otis stepped onto the balcony.

"It's ready whenever you are," he said.

"Okay, just let me finish my cig," Maeve said.

Jean pressed her lips together and stood up. "I'll catch up on my reading," she said. "I hope you enjoy the movie, Maeve. Despite the gore, I did."

Otis sat next to Maeve and noticed the mood she was trying to conceal.

"Is something wrong?" Otis asked.

"Nah. It's just…" She sighed. "I miss talking to my mum."

Author's Notes: Not sure about this one. I just wanted to capture them hanging out on a peaceful Sunday.