Content warning: adult non-explicit consensual heterosexual situations.

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"Daddy!"

"I'll be right there," Ned called over his shoulder. "Got your pajamas out yet?"

Cole made some indistinct reply, and Ned was smiling faintly as he walked into the other bedroom. "How's it going?"

Samantha tucked a lock of her red-gold hair behind her ear and glanced up at her stepfather, gracing him with a brief smile. "Okay," she said. "Almost done." The butterfly-patterned curtains were pulled back and Ned could see the faint moving trails of rain against the panes. A math textbook stood open on the desk, and Samantha's designer binder was open to a page scribbled over with problems.

Ned glanced over them. "Want me to look them over when you're done?"

Samantha glanced up again. "Sure," she said, then ducked her head back toward her work.

Ned sighed inaudibly as he left his stepdaughter's room. She was always subdued and wary toward him after her time with Frank. He hated it more than he hated Sam's biological father, and after four years as Nancy's husband, he was glad he had only shared as many conversations with the man. Interactions between Nancy and her ex-husband were as civil as they had to be, for their child, but no one had expected relations to be anywhere near polite between the two men in Nancy's life.

But Ned had loved Sam practically since the first moment he had seen her. She was beautiful, and when Ned looked into her face he saw the woman he had loved for most of his life reflected there. He couldn't deny the hurt he felt when those beautiful blue eyes were shuttered against him. Even though he would have adopted her in a second, he wasn't her father, and Frank was doing all he could to make sure Ned never would be.

"Daddy!"

Cole, dressed only in superhero briefs, his hair still damp from his bath, had managed to find and strew all his pajamas over his bedroom floor. Ned swept his son up into his arms and tousled his dark hair, and the boy shrieked with laughter. "When I said get your pajamas out, I didn't mean like this."

"Story!"

"Pajamas first," Ned said, leaning over to sweep a pair up from the carpet. "Blue?"

"Blue," Cole nodded seriously.

Ned stifled a laugh. "And pick a good story, please."

Cole had an entire low shelf full of hand-me-down picture books, but he bypassed those in favor of a laminated, finger-marked and yarn-bound flip book. "Max the cat."

"Your favorite," Ned said, looking down at the book. "All right. Up we go."

Cole crawled over the spaceship comforter and slipped underneath swiftly, pulling it up to his chin. Ned stretched out on top of the comforter, his feet hanging over the edge of the mattress, and flipped to the first page. Then he glanced over at his son, whose dark brown eyes met his own. "I think you'd better read."

"Tired," Cole protested.

Ned faked a huge yawn. "So am I," he said.

"No," Cole said stubbornly, then grinned. "You read. Please, Daddy? Please?"

"All right," Ned said, mock begrudging. "You sure you want Max the cat?"

"Yes," Cole said, laughing, his eyes lighting up.

Ned watched his son closely, and during the third reading, Cole's eyes began to flutter closed for longer and longer blinks. Ned was silent for a long moment, not moving his gaze, and when Cole's face was blank and relaxed, Ned pressed a gentle kiss over his forehead, then eased himself off the bed. He had just replaced the book on the desk and turned off the bedside lamp when he noticed the silhouette in the doorway.

"You're ready?"

He caught the faint smile on Samantha's face before she turned around and walked back to her own bedroom. "Finished," she said.

Ned pulled his son's bedroom door nearly closed, leaving him alone with the distant whisper of the rain, before going into Sam's room. She vanished into the bathroom, then came back in a set of pastel pajamas, while Ned flipped through the textbook, refreshing his memory.

"When's Mom going to be home?"

Ned glanced up. "Pretty soon," he said, as the first rumble of thunder reached them. "She just went out with Bess and George for dinner." He smiled. "Do you not trust my math skills?"

Sam smiled. "Who's better at math, you or Mom?"

Ned thought for a minute. "I think we're about the same," he admitted. "Can you tell me why you did this?" he said, tapping on the sheet.

Sam swept up a much-loved stuffed dog and hugged it to her chest as she looked down at what he had indicated. "The teacher told us to do it this way instead of how it has it in the book. She said it was too complicated the other way."

Ned nodded. "Okay, then," he said. "You forgot to carry the three here, but that's the only thing I saw."

Sam sat back down at the foot of her bed, her chin against the top of the stuffed dog's head. "Thanks," she said.

Ned turned around in the desk chair and looked at his stepdaughter. "Sam..."

"Daddy?"

Ned looked at the doorway, where his son stood. "Cole? Did the storm scare you?"

Cole looked away instead of directly answering. "Water?"

Sam scrambled off the bed. "I'll go get it," she said, ruffling her brother's hair as she maneuvered around him.

Cole took a few steps into Sam's room, timidly, then with more confidence as Ned patted his knee. He swept his son up onto his lap, and Cole rested his head against his father's chest. The lightning flashed against the window and Cole squeezed his eyes closed. "You okay?"

Cole nodded. "Mommy home soon?"

"Yes," Ned said. "Mommy will be home soon."

Samantha came back and handed her brother a glass of water, which he sipped greedily. She pushed herself back onto the bed, taking the stuffed dog into her arms again. Ned looked down at it and smiled.

"What were you saying?"

"I gave you that," Ned said faintly. "When you were a baby."

Sam looked down at her stuffed dog. "You wanted to talk about my dog?"

Ned shook his head. "Was everything--did you have a good time with your father?"

Sam nodded. "Sure," she said, looking away.

Ned looked down at his son, drawing his fingertips over the soft dark hair. "You just seem like you're upset about something."

Sam shrugged, but she pressed her cheek against the dog. "I'm okay."

Cole slumped down. "I worry about you," Ned said, as Cole nestled his face into the comforter on Sam's bed. "But if you're okay."

Sam looked away. "For as long as I can remember," she said, "it was you and Dad... and Mom. You've been here, and..."

Ned nodded, as Cole made a soft noise and shifted in his sleep.

"Daddy's getting married."

Ned felt his face warm. "Oh."

Sam slipped down and curled up in a ball, the dog still tight in her arms. "To Callie."

"How do you feel about it?"

Sam shook her head. "He's my Dad," she said, her voice muffled. "And I see him--and she's going to be my stepmother. That's what Dad says."

Ned nodded. "Like I'm your stepdad, Callie will be your stepmother."

Sam looked down. "I don't want a stepmother," she mumbled.

Ned looked at his son for a long minute, lifted him up and slipped him onto the foot of Sam's bed, where he nestled silently into the mattress. Then he went to sit at Sam's side, looking down at her. "Do you not like Callie?"

Sam turned her head and Ned could see tears gleaming on her lower lashes. "She's not Mom," she said.

Ned swallowed. "And I'm not your Dad," he said softly.

Sam looked up at him. "You've been here," she said. "I've had this dog as long as I can remember. So you've been here longer than I can remember."

Ned smiled a little and shook his head. "You had just turned two when I met you the first time," he said softly. "Your dad was away on a business trip and your mom was out with you for a run."

Sam smiled. "How long had you loved Mom?"

"From the moment I met her."

"How long did you love me?"

"From the moment I met you," Ned said, brushing her hair back from her face. "Callie's not a bad person."

"You know her?"

Ned looked away. "We met," he said. When everything was different. When I still thought you'd be my flesh and blood.

Sam blinked up at him. "Mommy too?"

"Mommy's met her."

Sam buried her face against the dog as another enormous bolt of lightning split the sky in a flash of brilliant white light. "So you're okay with it."

Ned looked down at his stepdaughter, the proof of her union with Frank Hardy, the proof of her infidelity. He looked over at Cole, the product of their union. "Frank was meant to be with Callie."

"Not with Mommy."

Suddenly Ned felt the pressure of his fingers in his palm and consciously released them. He sighed. "I didn't mean to say it like that," he said softly. "If you're uncomfortable with Callie, if you don't..."

"Dad said." She looked away from him. "Every time I see him Dad says that you aren't my father. That he's my father, my only father, for the rest of my life. Now Callie's going to be my stepmother." She shook her head. "I don't believe him."

"About what?" Ned whispered.

She kept looking away. "Are you ever going to go away?"

Ned shook his head. "I'm not going to leave you behind," he said. "You or Mom or Cole, for the rest of my life."

"What if." Sam shook her head. "Mommy and Dad were together, a long time ago, and they swore they'd never leave, and they did, and now, there's Callie, and..."

Ned shook his head. "Is that what you're afraid of?"

"That you'll stop loving me the way Dad stopped loving me."

"Oh, Sam," Ned said, leaning over and pulling her into a hug. "Your dad didn't stop loving you, and I'm not going to stop loving you. I'm not."

Sam buried her face against his chest. "If he loves me then why is he marrying someone else," she said into his shirt.

Ned rubbed her back. "He's loved Callie for a long time," he said. "I loved your mom for a long time. And your mom, and your dad..." He swallowed hard. "Sam, they've always loved you."

"But it wasn't enough."

Ned looked down at the little girl in his arms. Two years spent away from Nancy, he had cursed the child who had taken her away from him and bound her irrevocably to Frank Hardy. For as long as Sam lived, his wife was connected to Sam's father, and Ned had found himself resenting the tiny red-haired toddler whose very existence meant Nancy would never entirely be his. But Sam had managed to change his mind, and while he slowly discovered that he had never stopped loving Nancy, he began to love her daughter as though she was his own. To see Sam in pain, over the decisions he and Nancy had made so many years before...

"Sam, I'm so sorry."

She looked up at him. "You're my dad," she said. "I don't care what he says. You're my dad too. He never looks at my math homework and he never reads books to me until I go to sleep."

Ned closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head. "It's gonna be okay," he said.

She nodded. "Okay."

When Nancy swept in, laughing, her sandals dangling from her hand, she found her husband in Sam's room, lifting Cole into his arms, Sam's sleeping face lit by the occasional flash of lightning. Nancy went silent but the smile still stayed on her face.

"Everything okay?" she whispered, when Ned slipped out of Sam's bedroom.

"He doesn't like rain," Ned replied, making his way to his son's bed, slipping him under the covers. With both their children's bedroom doors closed, he slipped his arm around Nancy's waist and drew her to him, side by side as they reached their own bedroom. "Or storms. Or his mother being away. And I just had a very... I just talked to your daughter."

Nancy smiled as she shut their bedroom door behind them. "'Your' daughter," she repeated. "Sam must've done something wrong."

Ned shook his head. "She was just worried, after..."

"After what?"

Nancy had dressed for her evening out in a black tank top and clinging black skirt, which she stripped off in front of him, and Ned swallowed before he could continue. "Frank and Callie."

"Oh," Nancy said, and Ned stepped out of his own clothes. "They're seeing each other."

"From what Sam was telling me, I think they're getting married."

Nancy smiled. "Good. I'm happy for them."

Ned pulled back the covers on their bed and crawled in, and Nancy followed. "Nan."

She pulled her bra off and dropped it over the side. "What's wrong?"

He sighed. "I love you," he said. "And I love Sam and I love Cole and I can't imagine what my life would be like right now without... this. Without us."

Nancy slipped her palms against his cheeks and met his eyes. "All this because Frank and Callie are getting married."

He shook his head. "All this because I was afraid... for Sam. I wanted her to be okay. And she told me, tonight, that I was more a father to her than Frank was. She told me that."

Nancy leaned down and kissed him, her hair brushing over his chest, his cheek. "I told you that too," she whispered. "Six years ago. You're the best father Sam and Cole will ever know. You are the only man I've ever loved."

He buried his hand in her hair and kissed her, over and over. "I love you," he breathed. "You've always been the only one."

She smiled against his mouth. She tasted like vodka and fruit and sugar, rum, something dark and exotic. She tasted so familiar and he lost himself in it. "I love you too," she whispered. "I love you. I love you. And I'm glad Sam realizes how good a father you are to her."

"Do you ever wish... that things had gone differently?"

Nancy kissed him again, slow and sweet. "The only thing I wish," she murmured, "is that we had found each other sooner."

He smiled. "No regrets," he whispered, putting his arms around her and pulling her close to him. She leaned in and their mouths met in another slow kiss.

"No regrets."

They lay skin to skin, his mouth finding the soft curve of her throat, the depression of her shoulder. She pulled back, her tongue dipping into the hollow behind his ear, the valley of his collarbone, the tensing flesh over his abs. His touch stroked over the curve of her hips and he closed his eyes as she moved over him.

"Nan."

She raked a hand through her hair, pulling it away from her face as she knelt over him. He watched the way her expression changed when his fingers pressed into her flesh, the lightest caress over the thin delicate skin of her inner thigh, the way her mouth dropped open in unabashed anticipation when he traced his fingers over her. She let out a low moan, and he closed his eyes, lost in the perfume of her, the feel of her against him.

He traced his fingers and his lips over her after, slow, tasting their mingled scent on her skin. She pulled his face up to hers and kissed him hard. "Love you," she mumbled against his mouth.

"Love you," he whispered, pulling her to him, nestling against her, and they were safe, warm, content in each other's arms. "All of you."

She smiled against his chest, her fingertips tracing over his shoulder blade. "Never stop," she whispered. "Never stop."