A/N: Kudos to "fan" on correctly guessing the alternate personalities of the three characters mentioned in the last chapter. Since I don't think naming a character "fan" would really mesh with my narrative style, there will be an alternate prize, to be revealed in a future chapter. Not this one, though, because this one's all about tones of levity and flirting and banter, with other stuff kind of subliminally jammed in the crevices. Or maybe it's not, and I just said that so readers think I have some idea of what the hell I'm doing, as opposed to getting boozy and writing whatever I feel like. Speaking of debauchery, a couple of lines in the last scene were inspired by an outtake from season 5 of "NewsRadio," one of about a hundred in which someone says something super profane and inappropriate.

Thanks so much to those who reviewed the last chapter. To those who didn't, I shall quote Abby to say, "you totally suck."

"Sound of Silence"

Joe falls asleep on the drive back from the airport, and when we pull into the driveway, Luka just nods toward the door. "I'll get your bag."

He had the foresight to get Joe into his pajamas before they came to pick me up, and so I just lay Joe down and pull his blankets up over him and sit there on the edge of his bed, stroking his hair for a couple minutes. He mutters something that I don't think is a real word and squirms around a little, and it's one of those times where I'm just kind of overwhelmed by how much I love him. I remember back when I'd just found out I was pregnant, worrying aloud to Luka that I wouldn't know how to love him right, and even after I decided - or realized, really - that I wanted to have the baby, that fear stayed with me. It wasn't until I had a fetal monitor strapped to my belly and was watching him move around on the sonogram machine and hearing Luka whisper congratulations, it's a boy in my ear that I stopped feeling that fear, because it hit me like an oncoming train in that moment, the extent to which I loved my child. Although I don't think it was until later, sitting by his isolette in the NICU, stroking his head with my pinkie finger, that I really felt like I could stop worrying about that. There were so many fears at that moment, whether he'd even survive, what complications there might be, but I knew not knowing how to love him wasn't one of them.

I leave Joe to sleep and go down to the kitchen, where Luka is loading the dishwasher. "You need some help?"

"No." He gives me a little smile. "I have it covered."

"Okay. I'm going to take a quick shower."

I stand there in the steam, letting the water hit the back of my neck for a few minutes, just trying to let my mind clear after today. I know at some point we'll talk about it, but right now, I just want to enjoy being home.

I open my eyes when I hear a tap on the glass, and Luka slides open the door a little. I shiver as the air rushes in. "Mind if I join you?"

It's a rhetorical question, I think, since he's already undressed and when he moves to stand behind me and wrap his arms around me, I lean my head back and smile. "You missed me."

"Yes." He kisses my shoulder and lets his hands drift down to my hips. "You missed me, too. Admit it."

I turn around and drape my arms around his shoulders. "Never."

He leans down and rests his forehead on mine for a minute before letting his mouth follow the water that's running down my face until he gets to my lips, and kisses me. I think my charade of not missing him is pretty transparent at this point since it's maybe a millisecond before my tongue is in his mouth and I slide my hands down his back, slowly, and he inhales sharply when I'm at his waist. He knows damn well where I'm headed. "Abby." He sounds like he's warning me, but I don't know what the hell for.

"I missed you," I mumble.

"I missed you, too."

"Obviously." I smile against his lips, and he makes a sort of stifled groan. "Something the matter?"

"No - yeah - just…you wanted to shower," he pants.

I look up at him. "I did." I grab the bottle of body wash from the shelf and hand it to him, still holding his gaze. "Here. Make yourself useful."

I'm expecting some teasing reply like him telling me to say please or something, but he doesn't even crack a smile, just takes the bottle and pours some into his hand. And then he's kneeling in front of me. Jesus.

Not that I'm surprised that we're doing…well, this, but I wasn't really expecting much in the way of foreplay. And here I am with him on his knees, and he's resting his head on my stomach and running his hands over my thigh and my mouth is very, very dry all of a sudden.

He's almost methodical about it, and so slow that I'm very close to threatening to kill him several times, and then he stands up and turns me around and washes my arms and my stomach just as slowly and it's clear to me that he's exercising a hell of a lot of restraint in not just taking me right up against the wall.

For which I both love and hate him, at this moment.

I'm pretty grateful that we invested in a good water heater, because by the time the soap has rinsed off and he begins putting his hands to better use, the water ought to be cold, but it's not.

Although, as he braces us both against the wall and pulls me against him, it occurs to me that the water could be freezing, and I don't think I'd notice.

"Luka," I murmur, mostly because I'm not capable of saying much else. His hands are everywhere except the one place I want them to be and I'm thinking that I really could kill him when he grasps my thigh and shifts me a little and then he's inside me. I repeat his name, less softly this time, and his response is kind of muffled by my hair, but I'm pretty sure it's my name.

After a while, it's obvious that all that self-restraint is catching up to him, and he hisses a couple of Croatian obscenities and then a few in English and there's a very good chance I'm going to have a bruise on my thigh from where his fingers are digging into me. I turn my head enough to glance at him, with every intention of telling him it's okay, that he can let go, except the look in his eyes is so intense and it's so completely apparent how much he wants me that I completely forget whatever I was going to say and come right then and there.

I'm so wrapped up in it that I don't even realize until the orgasm is fading that he's followed right along with me, and I'm not sure how it is he's still standing, because he's doing the work for both of us at this point.

I manage to regain my footing after a minute and we both stand there under the water until we catch our breath. "That was…nice," I say, as I'm reaching behind him to shut off the water.

"After three years, you still haven't come up with a better word?" He takes a towel from the door as he steps out of the shower and drapes it around me, then takes the other and wraps it around his waist.

"You keep screwing my brains out, what do you expect? A basic vocabulary's all that's left."

He reaches down to tilt my head up toward his and kisses me again. "Now you know why I forget English sometimes."

"Because I've sexed the language right out of you?"

"Yes." He blinks a few times and holds my gaze before a lopsided grin creeps over his face. "I knew I'd get you to admit it."

"That you've made me stupid?"

"That you missed me."

I walk into the bedroom and open the dresser drawer. "Things I say in the middle of sex don't count."

"You missed me."

"I missed certain aspects."

"Liar." He brushes his fingers through my wet hair. "You missed everything. Even the parts you complain about."

I glance up and down. "Which parts have I complained about?"

"Ha-ha. Just admit it."

"I have never complained about any part of you. In fact, I wrote some very nice things about certain parts of you on the ladies' room wall at County."

"You did not." He looks like he's not sure. Probably because I admitted to him that I was responsible for the rather legendary sketch in there of Romano being beaten with his own arm. Nurses' strikes do funny things to an otherwise sane person.

I shrug. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. The important thing is that if I did, they would have been quite complimentary."

"You're very sweet, you know that?" He rolls his eyes a little, but he's smiling.

"You write that on the wall in the men's room?"

"No, I wrote 'Mr. Abby Lockhart' with little hearts and smiling faces."

"Smiley faces, not smiling. Very cute." I lean against him, letting my arm drape around his waist. "Hey Luka?"

"Mmhmm?"

"I missed you."

We don't talk about it for a few days. He doesn't push, and I love him for it, and for the fact that he understands that it's not that I'm shutting him out, just that I'm not ready yet. Neither of us pretend like everything's normal, either, which I think might be a milestone in our relationship, because pretending everything is normal, even if neither of us are fooled, is probably right at the top of the list of things that have screwed us up in the past.

Kind of like how we got into that habit of trying to communicate through sex. And it's maybe another milestone, how instead of making love in place of talking, we've finally figured out how to do both. He's not exactly all over me, not like how it was right after we got back together, but he's on me and in me and against me more than usual those first few days back, and there's something about how slow and intense it is that's different. It's been like this maybe a handful of times - that night in Vukovar, the first time we were together after he came back home, the couple of days after the incident with Ames, after he told me he wasn't going to Darfur with Carter. Which also happened to be the night I realized I was in love with him. Not that I wasn't before, because I think it had been there for a long time and I just hadn't been ready to acknowledge it, but it was the first time I really felt it, or let myself feel it, I guess.

I think I'd been looking in the mirror and trying to decide if I actually looked pregnant or just like I'd been hitting the pizza a little too hard, and he came in and asked me if I was cold.

"What?"

He nods to my chest, and I wrap my arms around myself and frown. "I can't help it. And I can't find a bra that fits, so just – "

"Hey." He takes my hand and pulls me towards him, and slides one hand under the admittedly very thin tank top I'm wearing, on my lower back, and the other sort of splays across my neck and cheek, stroking my skin. "I didn't mean to be critical. I'm not – I was just…noticing."

I don't say anything, just kind of sigh.

"You're beautiful, Abby." It's not the first time he's said it to me, but for some reason, there's this…I don't know. Energy, I guess. The way he says it is, something about it just shoots up my spine and I shiver and it complicates the situation even more. He just smiles down at me, and backs up a few steps until he's sitting on the edge of the bed, and kind of awkwardly pulls me down so I'm sitting as best I'm can on his lap. He drops his head a little and I feel his breath on my shoulder. "You're stunning."

I make this noise that's sort of a hybrid between a squeak and a gasp, and he leans his head further down and braces his hands against my back and I lean back into them. I feel his mouth on my breast and I can't be sure but I think I stop breathing. He twists around and I half-fall, half-lie back on the bed, and he pulls my shirt over my head and crouches over me, and his eyes are staring straight at me with this intensity I can't explain except that I know he means what he said and for the first time, I kind of believe it. It's just something about that look, and he holds my eyes for at least a few minutes and then very slowly and softly works his way down my neck and across my chest and then lower, and we've certainly had sex since I got pregnant, but he hasn't done…well, this, and between the way he's touching me and the way he holds one of my hands in his and the way he keeps pausing to whisper my name, I think I completely lose the ability to make noise, and tears start running down the sides of my face and then I just – I don't know. It's indescribable, and I'm not sure Luka is expecting it either, but it's sort of this perfect storm of sensation and situation and I think something just sort of breaks open inside of me when I come. It's not until I've come down from the high and Luka is curled up next to me, stroking my arm, and I realize that it's not the sex, or the pregnancy, it's that I'm happy in a way I haven't been my entire life.

It just kind of hit me at that moment, lying there with him, that I was in love with him. I don't remember if the words even registered in my mind, but I remember the sort of warm ache washing over me, because I loved him so much it hurt, and I don't think I'd felt that before. I think maybe having to consider the prospect of doing it without him - not just the pregnancy, but all of it, waking up without him, going to work without him - made me realize how badly I wanted him there with me and how much I needed him.

We're cleaning up the kitchen after Joe's asleep, a couple days after I get home, and out of nowhere I hear myself telling him that I have three stepsisters.

He turns around, looking completely confused. "What?"

"I have three stepsisters. I met them this weekend." I sweep the crumbs from the table into my hand and go to dump them into the trash. "Two incredibly bitchy blondes who hate me and another one who my dad used to mix up with me, apparently."

His eyebrows are furrowed, like he's not sure if there's a subtext, and he's still holding the plate he took out of the dishwasher. "I didn't know you had…you know…"

"He - Eddie - mentioned he had three stepdaughters when he came into the ER that time. I never actually put the pieces together. Plus, I mean, he lied about who he was, so I didn't know if any of it was true."

"Wow."

"Yeah." I move beside him to wash my hands. "Just think, this opens up a whole new category of fantasies you can have about me."

"Huh?" He finally puts the plate in the cupboard.

"Sisters. Don't guys love that stuff?"

"Oh. I guess - maybe. I don't really…I'm don't need to think about other women than you."

I fight a smile as I dry my hands and move to help him with the dishes. "I was just joking."

He nods a little. "Why do you think they hate you?"

"Because they made it clear that they do. I guess Eddie married their mom when they were little, so they grew up with him. I'm pretty sure they think he's a saint and my refusing to see him or talk to him makes me the devil."

"Oh." He glances sideways at me. "And the other one?"

"Well, she was high when I met her, so I didn't get a chance to form much of an opinion."

"She was high?"

"She'd taken something - either a painkiller or anti-anxiety, I couldn't tell - with a couple glasses of wine, so she was pretty, uh…relaxed."

"I see."

"She doesn't really look like me, but she's the right age and she's a brunette, so I guess that was enough for Eddie to mix us up now and then." I shrug and lean back against the counter. "I didn't really know what to make of her. She was kind of…I don't know. I think maybe if the situation hadn't been so incredibly weird, I might've liked her. Or at least, I'd have liked the version of her that resulted from mixing wine and pills. She might be a huge bitch like her sisters when she's not on anything."

Luka closes the dishwasher and wipes his hands on a towel before nodding his head in the direction of the stairs. I reach over and turn off the kitchen light. "You think you'll keep in touch with them? At least the one you might have liked?"

"Rosemary. That was the stoned one. The blondes who hate me are Deliah and Annabeth." I peek into Joe's room, and the sound of his heavy breathing assures me that he's out cold. "Probably not," I tell Luka, once we're in our bedroom. "It's not like they're really family. They're just…these people that Eddie lived with."

"They're still family," he says softly.

I sink onto the bed, letting my feet rest on the floor as I lay back. "They're not, though. It's like…I don't have a good example. But they're strangers. Eddie was completely removed from my life by the time he…embedded himself into that family. He's the only link between us, and he was a completely different person with them."

I see Luka hovering over me as he stands beside the bed, and I have to say, it's a nice angle from which to watch him take off his shirt. "I'm a completely different person with you and Joe than I was…before. It doesn't mean that if Jasna and Marko were here, they wouldn't be a part of Joe's life."

"That's not the same thing and you know it." I sit up. "You were their father, you were there with them for…until…" I can't say it, and I think he knows that, because he just nods a little. "And you're Joe's father. You didn't meet him when he was already walking and talking and going to school, and you hadn't left your other kids to be with us. It was fifteen years, Luka. And I know damn well that you would have given anything to see them again."

He sits beside me. "I didn't mean it was the same thing. I know it's not." I feel his hand grasp mine and he laces our fingers together. "I meant I was a different person when I was their father than I am now. I grew up. I changed."

"No." I lean against him. "You were a good father to them, and you're a good father to Joe. You didn't bail on them." I glance up at him, and I can see it there, in his eyes, the objection. "You didn't. Don't even try to argue with me, because I know you and I know everything you've told me and how much you love them, so don't."

He swallows, and I think he's a little stunned. I've never really done that before now, flat-out told off his guilt like that. After a minute he leans down and presses his mouth against my forehead. I tilt my head back until my lips are lined up with his and he kisses me very gently, and I can feel his breath and somehow know that hearing that was something he needed. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me for stating the obvious, Luka."

"I know I don't."

"Okay." We sit quietly for a few minutes, and then I get up and go to pull a pair of pajama pants from the drawer. "I know you're trying to help. It's just…"

"They're strangers," he says quietly.

"Yes."

"Can I - I'm not trying to make you upset, I just - "

"It's okay." I pull a shirt from the drawer. His drawer. I like wearing his shirts to bed. They smell like him.

"It's just…you haven't really ever had the chance to…uh, to have a family. Not like I did. And I - I know it's weird for you, I just think…having that…it feels good."

Huh. Definitely not what I was expecting to hear. I chew my lip. "I have you and Joe, don't I?"

He stands up and takes his shirt from me, setting it on the dresser. "You do. Always. But what I had growing up - aunts and uncles and cousins and people I didn't know how I was related to who just showed up sometimes - it was nice."

"I'm not like that, though. I'm - I like being just us. I can't handle that kind of…chaos."

"The hell you can't. You were an ER nurse."

I smile a little. "Doesn't mean I wanted to bring it home with me."

His fingers curl under the edge of my shirt and he raises it inch by inch until I have to move my arms to let him pull it off me. "I'm not saying we have to move to a two-family home and share with your step-sisters."

"If you were suggesting that, do you really think I'd be letting you undress me?"

"Uh…probably not." He reaches around my back to unhook my bra.

"I know it's a part of who you are, Luka. I'm just not sure it's a part of who I am. And even if it is, I'm not sure I want to have Eddie's replacement family over for Christmas dinner." I pick up the shirt he tossed aside and hand it to him. "Here. Finish what you started."

"I don't think you understand what I was trying to start." He looks down at me with a glint in his eye.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I know exactly where you were going with that."

"So…"

I just look up at him and hold out my hand.

He breathes out in a huff and hands me the shirt, and I can't tell if he's actually annoyed or just playing around. "So I don't get anything for being loving and supportive?"

I narrow my eyes and look up at him. "Odjebi."

"I'd like it better if you'd do it for me." He grins.

I manage to hold my composure for about two seconds. "Shut up."

"I'd rather you do that for - "

I reach up and pull his head down to mine and raise myself up on my toes to kiss him. His arms tighten around me, and for a second, he's holding me off the ground. When he puts me back down, I shrug. "Just following instructions."

"You never do that," he murmurs. His arms are still wrapped around me and his voice is muffled by my hair.

"I like to keep you guessing."

"Mmhmm."

We stand like that for a minute, not moving. After a minute, I smile and press my nose against his sternum. "You really don't think about other women?"

"What?" His grip on me loosens.

"Before, you said you didn't have to think about other women. I just…I don't know. I'm just asking. It's not like I'd be offended, I know guys like - "

"Like what?" He stands back a little and looks down at me.

I shrug. "I don't know. Different stuff. Isn't that kind of why guys in relationships watch porn?"

"I don't watch porn."

I let out a little laugh. "Right."

"I don't. I - why would you think I do?"

"Because…because guys…men…watch porn. It's not like I think any less of you."

"I really don't watch it, Abby. I - have men you were with before…?"

"Well…yeah."

"Well, then they were idiots." He eyes me as I strip off my slacks and I can feel goosebumps forming on my arms. "You're - nothing's ever going to be better than you, Abby. Even if you weren't beautiful, I don't think I'd…" He shrugs a little. "I want you. Just you." He reaches out and runs his fingers over my shoulder. "Not that I mind that you're beautiful."

I'm pretty sure I'm blushing hard enough to match my maroon pajama pants. "You really want to get laid tonight, don't you?"

He rolls his eyes a little and moves closer to me. "I'm not telling you this to get you to sleep with me. I don't - do you not believe me?"

"I…do."

"You sound like when I ask Joe if he picked up his toys."

"I…okay, I don't know. I guess it's just…I believe that you're attracted to me, I just - I know you're different from men I've been with before. For one thing, you're not an asshole. I just don't…I don't - "

"You were the first woman I was with in ten years, Abby. I hadn't felt….I wasn't even sure I was capable of being attracted to somebody like that anymore. It's not like I didn't like you as a person, but I don't think we'd have gone very far that night if you weren't….if I just liked your personality." He looks down at me and the corner of his mouth turns up a little. "The fact that I ended up marrying you and having a baby…that's more - so much more - than I thought I'd have. I don't want something besides this. You."

My voice comes out a little uneven and I'm still blushing like crazy. "I, um…that's…"

"Nice?"

I bite my lip and look up at him. "Yeah. It is"

"Hey. I was starting to think they'd locked you in the OR."

"Practically. I barely know what the sun looks like anymore." I can hear Neela yawn.

"I'll get Joe to draw you a picture."

She laughs. "Could you have him draw me one of my bed, as well? I'm not sure I'd recognize it either."

"If you don't mind it being an abstract, sure. I'll give him a list. You can figure out which one's which." I hold the phone between my shoulder and ear and start shoving clothes into the washer. "So, you book your ticket?"

"To where?"

"Guam, where do you think?"

She groans. "I know. No, not yet. I'm waiting to schedule the movers."

"Are you just, like, trying really hard to make me look proactive in comparison? Because you're doing a great job."

"That's absolutely what I'm doing."

"Uh-huh."

"Okay, so maybe I've been procrastinating a bit."

"You're moving in what, two weeks? Have you put in your notice, at least?"

"I…I've been trying to draft my resignation letter."

"You don't need a resignation letter. You need to pull Dubenko aside for six seconds so you can tell him, 'Hey, I'm moving to the bayou to finally shack up with this guy I've been pretending I'm not totally in love with for three years.' It doesn't need to be written on parchment."

"We're not 'shacking up.' I've already found a place of my own."

"Uh-huh. And did you fill out an application?"

"Well…"

"Seriously?"

"Ray filled it out for me."

"You're pathetic. And I'm calling Ray to tell him to schedule your movers, book your flight, and resign for you. I might also tell him you love him so you don't have to."

"That's not funny."

"Neither is waiting for you to get around to it."

"That's - you waited until Joe was a toddler before you married Luka!"

"That's different, I'm totally screwed up. You're just…I don't even know what you are. Book your stupid plane ticket."

"I will."

I shut the lid of the washer and head back downstairs to check on Joe and the play group. Leaving them alone for three minutes is always a risk. Not a risk to their safety, really, as much as a risk that someone will break or color on something. "Look. I get that it's scary. But you've been doing this for three years and you aren't over him so you're really only left with seeing if it'll work. If it does, great, and if it doesn't, at least you know. You're just torturing yourself at this point. And I'm guessing he's not having a lot of fun waiting around, either."

"I know. And I do want to go."

"So go."

I hear her sigh and a thump that I'm guessing is her shoving a bunch of stuff off the couch so she has a place to sit, based on my experience living with her. "You're awfully wise for someone who's screwed up about all this."

"Yeah, well, I already did all the stupid things in the book. Turns out, it's actually a lot more fun when you stop sabotaging everything. Who knew?"

"I think you should write that on a greeting card."

"I was going to needlepoint it on a pillow."

"That sounds lovely."

Joe and company are still where I left them, surrounded by a pile of Hotwheels cars and plastic animals. I feel a little bad that Isabella is the only girl most of the time, but she never seems to mind. I can't stop myself from smiling as Sebastian - the one who's a royal pain-in-the-ass - grabs a car from her, and without missing a beat, she snatches it out of his hand and glares at him.

You've got to love a little girl who's learned not to take any shit from boys before she's even turned three.

"Listen." I lean against the kitchen counter, just out of range of little ears. You never quite know when they're old enough to eavesdrop, or even to understand the conversation, but after that time Joe, Isabella, and Owen hijacked a call to work and serenaded several department heads, I learned my lesson.

"I know this is the pot calling the kettle a commitment-phobe, but you've just got to stop being afraid of what might happen so that something can happen. If I'd figured that out sooner, I - well, I don't actually know what would've happened. For the sake of argument, let's say I'd be exactly where I am now, but five years younger."

"I just worry." She sighs again. "Everything with Michael was so - we never really got the chance to date or to be husband and wife. Sometimes I'm not even sure…" She trails off, but I know what she means. She's not sure she really loved him. "We were never in a relationship."

"I know."

"With Ray, it's just - I'm not sure how we're supposed to handle things. Are we supposed to date? I just can't imagine what that would be like."

"Luka and I didn't date. The second time, I mean." Although, come to think of it, we never really dated the first time, after that one night. I think everything that happened on that first date, or what there was of it, threw us both off too much to recover. Things got too intense too fast, and we never managed to get to know each other. "I think being friends for so long might actually be a good thing. You get to skip a lot of the awkward stuff."

"It seems like it would be just as awkward this way."

"So you both laugh about it. It'll be a little weird at first, and then…hopefully…you'll be comfortable together."

"What if we're not, though?"

I roll my eyes. Talking to her reminds me of conversations with Joe, except I can't say "because I said so" to end a conversation with Neela. "Then you laugh about it anyway and stay friends. And he has a good story for his best man toast at your wedding."

"That's - "

"I'm kidding. Sort of. But seriously, you have to try. You've already tried not being together, and it didn't work out very well. And you both annoyed the hell out of everyone while you were doing it. Or not doing it, so to speak. If you don't give it a shot, you'll both regret it, and I'll have to stop talking to you because I'm not going to be the best friend in a John Hughes movie."

"John Hughes?"

"Oh my god. You and Luka. I'm going to make you two start a book club, except with movies. You know he's seen Titanic four times but he's never seen The Graduate?"

"I've never seen it, either."

"Oh my god." I lower my voice. "How am I friends with you?"

"I'm very well-read."

"Yeah, hearing you say that makes me not like you. Give me your new address. I'm sending you a copy of The Graduate and the entire John Hughes library as a housewarming gift. Now you and Ray have something to do on your first date."

"Hello?"

"We're in here."

I head into the living room and toss my coat and bag on the sofa. "Well, I see you two have had a productive evening."

Joe grins up at me from amidst a pile of Legos. "We made a sky straper."

"You mean a skyscraper?" I take off my shoes and sit down on the floor with them. Joe nods absently as he paws through the Lego pieces. "Is that the Sears Tower?"

"Nope." Luka adds another block to the top. "Kovač Tower."

"You live here." Joe points to a blue block.

"I must have gotten a pretty incredible raise to afford a high-rise apartment."

Luka reaches over and brushes his hand across my knee. "Special price for you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. You've got a deal going with one of the owners."

I pick up a block. "So when's my rent due?"

Luka cocks his head to one side. "Time for bed, Joe."

Joe glares at us both. "No."

"Yup. I said you could stay up until Mama came home."

"Is not my bed time when Mama comes home." Joe fumbles with a block.

I help him push the piece in. "I had to work late tonight. So I came home later than I usually do. And now it is your bed time." I emphasize the "it is" part. I'm starting to think he's actually gotten the hang of sentence structure and just leaves out pronouns as an act of defiance. I mean, yeah, he's two and a half, but he's my kid, so it's not like it's out of the realm of possibility.

"Is not my bed time."

"It is. You have to get your sleep tonight because you have lots of things to do tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Joe glances at me dubiously.

"Yup." Luka starts scooping Legos back into a plastic bin. "Tomorrow, you and Owen and…" He pauses and looks at me. "What's her name? The evil blonde one?"

"Lily. And she's actually not all that evil anymore. I think they had an exorcism or something."

"Right." He turns back to Joe, "Tomorrow you're all going on a trip to the big slide."

Joe's eyes widen. I nudge Luka a little. "I bet if you get into your pajamas and go to sleep very fast, then when you wake up, it will be almost time to go play on the slide."

It takes Joe about thirty seconds to get upstairs. The place with the big slide is basically utopia for toddlers. It's a complete hellscape for any sane adult, but as long as someone else is taking him, I don't mind using it as bait. By the time I get to his room, he's struggling to get his pajama pants on over his head.

"Here, how about I help you? I think it'll probably be easier if we take your shirt off first."

"I have to go to sleep now," he tells me impatiently.

"Hold up your arms, please." I kneel down. "We'll do this as fast as we can, I promise." I help him change and brush his teeth and then ask if he wants to read a book.

"No. I have to sleep now please."

"Okay, then here, let's tuck you in." I lean over to kiss his head and smooth the covers over him.

"I am sleeping," he informs me seriously. I manage to hold off laughing until I'm out of his room.

"He's trying very hard to be asleep," I tell Luka when I get back downstairs.

"Think it'll work?"

I pick up my jacket and shoes. "Right, because we're that lucky. He's all wound up about tomorrow. He's going to get up in ten minutes, crying because he can't fall asleep."

"Just like you every Sunday."

"Shut up." I hang my coat in the hall and turn around to find him right behind me. "I'm liking this play group thing."

"When are we going to have to pay for this, by the way?"

I smirk. "You mean when are you going to have to deal with three toddlers so that the other parents get a night off?"

"You're not going to help at all?"

"I do it every Thursday. You're on your own."

He looks down at me for a moment and then slips his arm around my waist. "How about if I'm very, very nice to you?"

"I don't know. I kind of think you should have a better appreciation of what I put up with every week."

"How about if I'm very nice and then I show you how appreciative I am?"

"I…might be persuaded to help."

"I could start persuading you now." His hand slides down my back a little and he pulls me against him. "If you like."

I lean my head against his chest. "Much as I'm sure I would like it, I really need to eat something soon." I feel his fingers playing with the hem of my shirt. "And I'm not saying that euphemistically. I'm starving."

"Fine," he sighs. "I still get points for being nice if I cook you something, right?"

"You always get points for that."

"Even if I make you something from that health food book Dubenko got us as a wedding present?"

"I thought I burned that. No. Then you lose points and I invite all the other parents to bring their children and feed them lots of sugar beforehand."

He stares down at me. "You wouldn't do that. You love me too much."

"You try feeding me spelt pasta with kale and we'll find out."

"Maybe I'll just make you grilled cheese. With a side of ice cream." He pulls me toward the kitchen.

"I think that's a very wise decision." I hoist myself onto the counter beside the oven as he pulls bread and cheese from the fridge. "Although I don't know about the ice cream."

"You don't want ice cream?" He gives me a look of mock disbelief.

"I didn't say that. It's just that…something might've happened to, you know, the rest of the carton last night after you went to sleep."

He sets the ingredients down and moves to stand in front of me, gripping my thighs lightly. "Yeah, I noticed that."

"I think it was the cat from next door. We really need to do something about that."

"Right." He smirks a little. "Lucky for you, I went to the store and replaced what the cat stole."

I bite my lip and slide my hand up his arm, very slowly. "If I wasn't so hungry, I would do you right here, right now, just for that."

"Why do you think I bought the ice cream?" He raises his eyebrows a little before moving back to the oven and setting down a frying pan. "Not to change the subject from you performing sexual favors in exchange for ice cream - "

"Shut up."

" - but I wanted to ask you something."

"No, I will not take you to Six Flags for your birthday."

"Ha-ha." He reaches out and squeezes my knee. "I wanted to ask if you would be willing to teach a class in a few weeks."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're a good doctor, for one thing. And for the other, my male students aren't very attentive when I teach it."

"No offense, but I don't think your female students are as attentive as you think they are. It's not technically attention when they're imagining you with your clothes off."

He ignores me, as usual. I can't decide if he thinks I'm exaggerating or if it's a humility thing, but either way, I don't really plan to stop reminding him. It's kind of fun. "I heard some of the nurses this morning complaining about how the med students treat them. I thought maybe it would be good if my students could understand what nurses do a little better, so that maybe…you know."

"They wouldn't be complete pricks?"

"Yeah." He shrugs. "I thought since you're a doctor, and you used to be a nurse, maybe they would listen to you."

"Are you also going to teach a follow-up class on how to pick up nurses?"

"Hey. You kissed me. And the second time, you were a doctor."

"Just admit you have a nurse fetish."

"Abby." He rolls his eyes. "Come on. I'm just asking if you would be comfortable doing this."

I'm tempted to deflect with another innuendo, but I manage to resist. I sigh a little. "Can I think about it for a couple days? I…honestly, I don't have a lot of experience. I don't know if I could teach a class."

"You've taught lots of med students."

"That was hands-on. I don't know how to lecture."

I watch as he flips my sandwich over in the pan. "You can think about it, of course. But…I think you'd be good, for what that's worth. You just…there's not a lot of people who can talk about being a nurse and being a doctor. You can. And I think it's important for students to hear about that."

"Thank you," I murmur. He just smiles a little, and reaches over to squeeze my knee again. "I will think about it. But you should ask one of the nurses from the hospital, too. I mean, not instead, but it'd be good for them to hear it from somebody who doesn't have a white coat. Especially about stuff like taking a history and making a diagnosis, because nurses pick up on stuff doctors don't."

"Okay." He slides the sandwich onto a plate. "I will."

"Are you planning to tell them we're, you know…married?" He holds out the plate, and I pick up half the sandwich. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. What do you mean?"

"I mean, isn't it possible they'll be less likely to listen to me if they know I'm your wife?"

"What?"

"I'm just saying, if they think of me as Mrs. Kovač instead of Dr. Lockhart, they'll assume I'm like your assistant or something."

"Why would they think that?" He frowns.

I shrug and take a bite. He watches me while I chew, still furrowing his brow like this is the first he's heard of sexism. "Because that's how the world works, Luka. I'm not paranoid, and I'm not ashamed to be married to you or anything, it's just that they're not going to put a lot of stock into what I say if they know we're married. You don't have to believe me, but I'm right about this."

He rubs his forehead and doesn't say anything for a few minutes, just looking down at the floor. "I…then they aren't going to learn anything either way. I want them to listen to you, but I'm not going to hide the fact that you're my wife."

"Luka - "

"Hey. If you don't want to teach the class, you don't have to, but I'm not going to do that, Abby." He looks at me with an expression I can't quite read. "I respect you, whether or not you're my wife. They should, too. It's - if I didn't respect you, you wouldn't be my wife."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. You think I'd be with somebody, marry somebody, I didn't respect?"

"I - " My mind flashes on Nicole, and the unease I felt at their relationship, not just because Luka and I had just broken up, but because I knew she wasn't going to make him happy, that she wasn't good enough for him. "No. I don't think you would be."

"If they think less of you because you're my wife, they can - I forget the phrase."

"Go fuck themselves?"

He chuckles. "That wasn't the one, but okay."

I gesture for him to move closer to me, and he does, and I slip my hand into his back pocket, pulling him further toward me. "Guess I'm pretty lucky I'm you're wife."

"Yeah?"

"I mean…respect and ice cream? That's like…the dream. As soon as I'm done with my sandwich and have my ice cream, and then probably after I shower, if I don't fall into a sugar coma…I'm so gonna do you."

"I should tell that to my students. If you respect a woman and give her ice cream, she'll have sex with you."

"Yeah, maybe tell them that after I've left."

"You're right, I don't want them all showing up to class with Ben and Jerry's."

I punch him lightly in the shoulder. "That's not what I meant."

He laughs and leans in to take a bite of my sandwich. "I wouldn't even have to take attendance, they'd all be there. Early, probably."

"Do you want me to take back the thing about doing you?"

"No, Mrs. Kovač."

"Okay, you know what - "

"I know you're a doctor. I'm just saying, I like that you're my wife, too."

"Mmhmm."

"Really."

"I know." I lean my head back on the cabinet to look up at him. "And, you know, if we're being honest…"

"Yeah?"

"I kind of like it, too."