Author's note: this was written for my dear friend Xanthe's birthday. Schmoop reigns!

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It was just cold enough to feel the need of the thick sweater he had changed into when he arrived at the cabin. The autumn evening was still and clear: the last of the light washing the sky in rose and gold and reflecting off his glasses as he sat on the porch swing looking out over the lake and the edge of the forest.

He held the cup of hot chocolate between his hands, enjoying the warmth as much as the soothing sweetness when he sipped. A childhood ritual for this particular day. He felt, rather than heard, the approach of one of his lovers, then soft hands gently removed his glasses and began to massage his temples. He leaned back into the relaxing touch, the warm fingers circling over his face and the bare skin of his head. The tension flowed out of him, work was forgotten, reality was this perfect peace, here with the people he loved most in the world.

A kiss was dropped on the top of his head and he leaned backwards lifting his mouth to the lips that waited for his. The hands settled on his shoulders and began to work the knotted muscles.

Eyes closed, he hadn't heard his other lover settle at his feet, but now he felt those very different hands begin to remove his shoes and socks and stoke his bare feet. More kisses on the arch of each foot. He set aside the empty mug and gave himself up to the bliss of this loving attention.

After a while first one and then the other settled next to him on the wide swing seat. Snuggled together, his arms around them, they watched the sun set and felt the power of their connection to each other. Closer than any family, their bond forged by shared danger and dedication, they shared this moment.

As the last sliver of sun sank below the horizon, Fox and Dana kissed their beloved companion:

"Happy birthday, Walter."

THE END

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