Jack's "surprise visits" are never really all that surprising. Atticus can always tell from the content of his letters and their few-and-far-between phone calls when his work is getting too stressful, and it's never long after that that Jack appears on his doorstep, suitcase in hand and a tired smile on his too-old looking face. Every time the same thing happens; Atticus tells Calpurnia to make up the guest bed for him, the children jump all over him and Jack says "I'm sorry for the intrusion" to which Atticus replies "not at all".

Today is a bit different. Today Jack arrives in the middle of dinner, not to mention in the middle of a rain storm. When Atticus opens the door he looks very much akin to a drowned rat and he wastes no time pulling him inside.

"A doctor should know better than to stand out in the rain," Atticus says, helping his younger brother out of his jacket. "It's good to see you, Jack. Would you like some dinner?"

"Dinner would be lovely, thank you, Atticus," he replies, dropping his suitcase by the door. By this point, the kids have heard the commotion from the dining room and come to investigate. Jem lingers in the doorway while Scout runs up and throws her arms around Jack's legs, asking him about why he was there, was he staying with them and so forth. Jack gently pulls her off and sends her back to the dining room, telling her they can talk over food. "I would have called, but it was sort of a last minute decision to come out here."

"You know it's not a problem, Jack," Atticus says, patting him on the back. On the outside, the whole conversation looks completely normal, but there's a certain underlying tension to the whole thing, especially in the way Jack walks and talks, a change that would be indistinguishable to most. Atticus picks up on it immediately. "We'll talk after dinner."

Jack joins the family at the dinner table just as Calpurnia sets out another plate for him, piled high with roast chicken, potatoes and brussel sprouts, and jumps right into the conversation like he was there from the moment it began. He talks with the children about school, chats with Atticus about his latest trial and tells Calpurnia that if she keeps feeding him dinners like that they're going to need to widen the door to his office back home. All in all he seems rather carefree. Atticus sees right through it.

After a healthy dose of pudding cake that Calpurnia surprises everyone with, Atticus sends the kids up to their rooms, telling them he wants to talk to Jack alone about some very important business. It's clear that the two of them want to complain, both being rather excited to see their uncle, but neither of them do.

Atticus doesn't ask Jack what's wrong, simply because he knows he doesn't need to. He just sits his younger brother down beside him on the couch, runs a hand through his still damp hair and casts a few of the drops off his fingers with a quick flick of the wrist. He hands him a cup of coffee- filled to the brim with cream and sugar, expensive but the only way Jack will drink it. Atticus, on the other hand, drinks his completely black.

"I'm sorry I always just show up like this, Atticus." Jack says, putting his feet up and sinking back in the couch, holding his coffee mug up to his mouth. He takes quick little sips, purses his lips between each, runs the tip of his tongue along his upper lip; all habits Atticus knows he's had for as long as he can remember.

"I keep telling you, Jack, it's no problem at all," Atticus replies, sipping at his own coffee. His eyes almost never leave Jack's face. "You know you're welcome in my home at any time, no matter how sudden."

"I appreciate it, I really do." he says, leaning his head against his own shoulder. Atticus watches as his eyes keep going to the staircase and the door to the dining room, past which Calpurnia is cleaning the cookware and the dinner dishes.

"You know Jem and Scout love having you here," Atticus says, putting his hand on Jack's arm. He gives him a brief squeeze before pulling his hand back, and Jack looks at him and smiles. "And so do I."

"Thank you, Atticus. I'll try not to outstay my welcome." he says, still sipping at his mug of sugar and cream and smiling at his brother over the rim.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like," Atticus points out, setting aside his coffee. "I'd never put a time limit on how long you can stay with us. You're hardly a burden."

With that out of the way, they sit there talking about what's been going on since their last visit, the sort of things that didn't exactly seem like appropriate dinner conversation. Atticus talks about the troubles he's run into in his latest cases, about the sort of trouble Jem and Scout have been getting into lately and his various other grievances. He tries not to bring up anything too serious, just little annoyances, but he knows it will make Jack feel more comfortable talking about whatever brought him here, and soon he's sitting even further slumped on the couch, eyes half-lidded, the stress lines on his face clear.

"I just don't understand people sometimes, Atticus," he says, running a hand through his hair. The first signs of grey are starting to show in his hair and Atticus thinks it makes him look stately- and very much not himself. "People go to doctors demanding to be told what's wrong with them and when we tell them, suddenly we're the villains. We're the scapegoats for all illness and injury." he explains, staring hard into his coffee mug.

"People just need a human being to blame for everything, even when nobody is at fault for anything. It's human nature," Atticus explains, leaning forwards and balancing his elbows on his knees. He's about to say something else when Calpurnia comes into the room.

"Mr. Finch, the dishes are done and everything is put away. Is there anything else you need me to do?" she asks, keeping her hands tangled in her apron.

"No, no, Calpurnia, you've done quite enough for the night. Go home, get some sleep." he says, smiling at her. She smiles back.

"Thank you." Without another word she dismisses herself and as soon as she does, Jack visibly relaxes.

"I just want people to acknowledge how damn hard I work for them sometimes," he curses, holding the coffee mug close to his body. Atticus looks at him with a heavy dose of softness and sympathy. "I'm not asking for a lot. Is that really so selfish of me?" He sighs heavily and squeezes his eyes tightly closed. Atticus purses his lips and takes a deep drink of his coffee before he answers.

"You work hard. Harder than any other doctor I know, that's for sure. And you care about your patients. You deserve more acknowledgement and thanks than anyone," he says. "But the whole idea of being the unsung heroes is that you never get exactly the sort of praise you deserve." Jack turns to look at him and reaches over, plucking a grey hair from Atticus' head.

"I saw you looking at mine earlier," is his explanation in response to the strange look Atticus gives him. "Stress. I'd sue my patients if I weren't related to a good lawyer." He genuinely laughs for the first time that night, and Atticus laughs with him as he leans back.

It's why he comes here. Whenever he's stressed, whenever things just get to be too much for him, whenever he feels unappreciated and unwanted, he comes here for reassurances. And Jack Finch is an easy person to reassure- if you're Atticus Finch.

He starts by urging Jack closer. He reaches out and gently puts a hand on his forearm, rubbing up and down before taking it in gentle grip. Of course, he barely has to touch him before Jack shifts closer to him on the couch so they're pressed together, thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder. He then runs his hand through his younger brother's hair, prompting him to put his head on his shoulder, which Jack does almost automatically.

"You're an excellent doctor, Jack, grey hair and all," Atticus assures him as he adjusts his head to nuzzle his nose into the side of his neck. "I'd put my life in your hands any day." Jack kisses his neck and laughs.

"That's good to know," he says, his voice soft and low. "If I lost your trust, I'm not quite sure what I'd do with myself anymore." Atticus gently strokes his hair as Jack breathes gently against his neck, gently enough that it seems almost delicate, like he thinks that breathing too heavily will shatter the moment.

It's always been like this between them. Atticus has always been the one to take Jack in his arms and tell him that everything will be okay, ever since Jack was just a young boy. He feels his younger brother press his lips to his neck again, shifting even closer to him. Atticus' hand moves to the back of his neck as Jack sits up a little more, reaching over to cup Atticus' face. Atticus leans forwards a little and presses the gentlest kiss to Jack's lips. Soon they're really kissing, quick little pecks between longer, deeper kisses. Coffee is left on the floor and quickly forgotten about, especially once Jack somehow manages to get Atticus backed against the arm of the couch and a knee between Atticus'.

Things don't get any further than that, however, because before long Jack's eyelids are starting to droop.

"You had a long day," Atticus says, pressing another gentle kiss to Jack's lips. "You should go to sleep. And I have court in the morning." Jack lets out a deep sigh and nuzzles his face back into Atticus' neck.

"I know." he says, pressing himself against Atticus' chest. The implication is clear; he doesn't want to leave. And to be honest, Atticus doesn't want him to, either. He loves being with Jack like this as much as Jack does. But he really does have court in the morning, and Jack really does need to sleep, so he takes his younger brother by the shoulders and guides him up. With a little coaxing he gets him up and headed towards the stairs, walking behind him the whole time. When they get to the guest room, Jack grabs Atticus by the front of his shirt and kisses him again, this time a little rougher. Atticus returns the kiss, but puts his hands on Jack's chest.

"You know I'd love to, Jack, but the children," he reminds him. "Soon, I'll come out to your place for a few days, once I can find someone to take care of them during the nights."

"You keep saying that, Atticus, and you still haven't done it," Jack reminds him. "But I can wait." He kisses him again before slipping into his room, and Atticus sighs and retreats to his own, taking off his glasses and massaging his tired eyes as he goes.

Yes, it's always the same with them.