"Get in the car."

Two big, shiny eyes stared at her as if ridiculing her persistence. Moira watched expectantly, waiting for her to move, but the little rascal did not even budge.

"Get. In. The. Car."

"Mom, it's no use." Ollie sighed from the passenger seat, leaning out of the open window to look at his mother and the new addition to their family. "If we don't go now, we'll be late."

"Bean, get in the car."

"Moooooom, for fuck's sake."

"Watch your tongue, Oliver Flynn."

Suddenly remembering the presence of the three unstoppably curious younglings, Ollie mumbled a quick 'sorry'. Now that he'd reached the age of thirteen, there was no stopping him in the swearing department. Especially since most of his friends -too- were hung up on the nasty habit. His parents had come to realise and accept this, as long as he didn't have a foul mouth in front of his siblings. Like now.

They'd come up with a way to stop him from doing just that though; the swearing jar. And in order to 'motivate him' so to say, the swearing jar also applied to his parents.

"Say goodbye to another $5."

"Ah come on, it was an accident."

Moira snorted. "Sure."

"They didn't even hear me!" He retorted, waving his hands in the direction of the backseat for emphasis.

"I don't want to hear it, Oliver. If you think you're old enough to swear, I expect you to take responsibility for your actions when you fail to abide the one rule your father and I established."

"But mom-"

"Shouldn't you have left 10 minutes ago?"

Momentarily distracted from their discussion both mother and son turned to the source of the voice. Harraël stood in the open doorway, dressed in a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt. He'd caught a bad case of food poisoning while on tour in Europe, and had been home for the past week. The doctor had put him on bed rest and only allowed him to leave said confines to use the restroom

"Babe..." His wife said in a warning tone, keeping her voice down as she tried to desperately convey a message through their locked gazes.

She even kept her hands up in the universally known stop-gesture. But either way, Harry missed her point entirely and shrugged unapologetically as the corners of his lips briefly titled downwards. When he finally did realize what she was trying to say, it was too late.

"Daddy!"

Spotting her father by the door, Scarlett jumped from her seat and let her small legs carry her out of the car within no time. Meanwhile, her mother pinched the bridge of her nose and heaved a sigh.

Their daughter was something else, alright. Ever since the early days of her life, she'd had a hard time separating from her parents. Even if it was just for an hour or five minutes. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence with babies and toddlers, however, and it usually faded with time. As it turned out, that wasn't the case with Scarlett. In fact, as she grew older, it only got worse. Hence why she was currently clinging her daddy's leg like a very cute, curly haired leech.

Harry mouthed a 'sorry' as he swept their little girl off her feet and held her in his arms. In return, Moira ignored him.

A simple sorry didn't cut it. It had taken her 20 minutes to convince Scarlett that daddy would still be at home when they returned. But thanks to her doting husband, those 20 minutes of toil had gone to waste.

They would definitely be late now.

She walked over to the troublemakers in question and held her arms out for Harry to hand over their daughter. He did so wordlessly. Scarlett, on the other hand, did not hesitate to voice her disagreement.

"Hush, Scar. Daddy will be right back. He's going to get dressed so he can come with us."

The deep frowns disappeared from her face as a look of complete satisfaction took their place.

"Okay, that's fine." the 5-year-old queen stated her approval.

She definitely had her mother's backbone.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, "Coming with you? But the doctor said-"

"Fuck what the doctor said! I'm sure some fresh air will do you well now get your ass inside and hurry!"

"Yes, ma'am." he saluted her and quickly followed the command.

With her husband inside, she returned to the car and made sure everyone got back to their respective seats. Everyone but Bean of course. But in spite of the overload of frustrations coursing through her veins, she refused to pick the easy way out. A good upbringing was important, and that also applied to pets.

"Chop chop, Bean! Get in the car!" She clapped her hands, hoping to sound nice and friendly like the YouTube tutorial woman had instructed. Although judging by Bean's, she did not buy it in the least.

Fox, on the other hand, did not fail to listen to his boss lady. He'd been happily taking a nap on the backseat ever since Moira had gestured for him to get in the car and hadn't woken up once. But then again, he was probably exhausted from his morning swim in the ocean. And who could blame him, really.

From the corner of her eye, Moira felt Ollie's gaze burn into the side of her head. She turned to him, observing his mischievous grin suspiciously. "What?"

"$10 into the swearing jar, mom."

She paused, puzzled, until it dawned upon her what he meant. "Oh no."

"Oh yes, now let's go!" Harry said, climbing into the backseat and went to close the door when his wife stopped him.

"Wait! Bean won't get in the car and we can't leave her behind or she'll pee all over the house."

Harry's eyes searched for their pet, and once they found her, he loudly patted his lap. "Beanie! Come sit!"

To Moira's utter surprise, the darned rascal actually listened to him as she obediently came hobbling towards the car, jumping up and down for him to pick her up and settle her on his lap.

"Are you kidding me."

"The trick is to not sound so stern, to not intimidate her. Be nice, baby."

Moira huffed. "I'm always nice."

"To me you are." Harry hummed, much closer now. She caught her breath, warmth crawling up her neck as he pecked her skin softly. "Very, very nice."

"Gross!"

Quickly snapping back to reality, Moira gazed over at Ollie's scrunched up face and cleared her throat to keep herself from giggling at her son's disgusted expression, "Does everyone have their seatbelts on?"

A chorus of yes' resounded through the confines of the car.

Adjusting the side mirrors, she made eye contact with her husband. "Did you lock the door?"

"All three of them. Did you grab the camera?"

"Of course! It's in my purse."

With that being said, the Stones were on their way. Chaotic was definitely a way to describe the family of nine. They were a beautiful mess indeed. And now with a miniature pig added to the list, the description only seemed the more fitting.

"Mommy?" Dorian said from the backseat.

"Yes, baby?"

"Can I be a strawberry when I grow up?" He asked, seemingly hesitant.

"Of course, baby. If you want."

Dorian smiled shyly, and patted Bean's head. "Just like Beanie?"

"Bean's a pig but if she wants to be a strawberry she can be one too."

"Thanks, mommy."

Arriving at the auditorium and parking the car, 10 minutes later, the eight of them -technically seven, since Harry was carrying Bean- scurried inside and showed their tickets to the man at the desk. Luckily, the show hadn't started yet.

When Richard James, or 'grandpa' saw them searching for their chairs, he called his daughter's name and waved them over.

"Hey dad," Moira greeted, taking the seat next to him and resting Scarlett's little body rest in her lap. "Bean didn't want to get in the car so that's why we're late."

"You brought the pig along?" he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose -a habit he'd picked up from his daughter.

"She would've peed all over the house otherwise."

"How the bleedin' hell did you get her inside the auditorium?" Richard asked incredulously.

Moira shrugged unapologetically

and kissed his cheek. "Beats me. Now did you see Noah? Is he nervous?"

"I did, he's not. You know him, he couldn't be nervous even if he wanted to."

Out of all their kids, Noah was the most unpredictable- and rebellious of all. Starting small fights, disobeying his parents, terrorizing the household with his shenanigans and not to forget the constant pranks. For this reason, it came as quite a surprise when he announced he wanted to participate in a dancing class at school.

Ballet, to be exact.

Determination was one of Noah's strongest characteristics, and his parents admired that. The fact he did not care what other kids his age thought of him, warmed their hearts. He did not go with the flow, he created his own stream. Moira and Harry had encouraged him from the start, because if this was something he felt passionate about, they would support him to no end.

Richard arose, shaking his son-in-law's hand and greeting the rest of his grandkids by kissing their cheeks. Once everyone was settled, Moira asked, "Where's Cassie?"

"Getting coffee."

Right then, Cassie appeared from another aisle, coffee in hand, and grinned when she spotted the eight newcomers. "Hey guys!"

The same pleasantries were shared, excitement for the upcoming performance voiced aloud. And as the lights dimmed, the crowd hushed down, indicating the show was about to start.

"You look amazing, baby. Can't wait to get you out of that dress tonight." Harry murmured out of the blue from beside Moira. She turned to look at him and got lost in his warm, emerald eyes, full of nothing but adoration for her and warmth; a realm of safety and haven. Plus a slight hint of cheekiness, but that was beside the point.

"Stop," she giggled under her breath, feeling like a giddy school girl from the uncharacteristically sound coming from her lips, "Noah will be up in a minute."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, each of them merely basking in the other's presence until the beginning notes of Tchaikovsky's Act l broke the silence.

As Noah appeared on stage, in the role of the nutcracker, Moira's pride soared sky high. Her usually composed self was exchanged for a blubbering mess, the tears dripped down her cheeks in waterfalls.

Noah was... there were no words. She knew he was good from the comments she'd received from other parents and even his teacher. But not this graceful, generally enticing and, well, plain brilliant.

Moira was blessed with a successful career, five amazing kids and a loving husband but because of her strict schedule, she didn't have much spare time. Hence why she'd never seen her baby boy perform before. She despised herself for it.

At the sound of his wife's soft sniffs, Harry chuckled under his breath, briefly kissed her temple and squeezed her hand as he took the camera from her hold. She was in no state to take pictures. He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs and let her head comfortably rest atop his shoulder.

Scarlett did not even seem to notice her mother's crying as she watched the ballet dancers with complete fascination. The same applied to Ollie, Gabriel and Dorian, each of them were watching their sibling with wide eyes and absolute devotion.

The show ended all too soon. The applause seemed never-ending, the crowd went wild. Screams, whistles and the clapping of hands were all that surrounded them. Moira regretted not buying more than two bouquets of roses as the dancers bowed and she threw the majority of the flowers at Noah's feet -who welcomed the gesture with twinkling eyes and a toothy smile.

Throughout the entire performance his mother hadn't stopped crying, and whereas he would have not liked the sight any other day. It was an entirely different situation now. It made him happy to know she was proud of him.

Noah exited the dressing room he shared with all the other boys and was immediately engulfed in a tight hug. Judging by the familiar scent of perfume, it was his mom.

Creating a slight distance, Moira cupped his cheek and studied her son's face with a blurry vision. "You were absolutely brilliant, sweetheart."

He grinned, two dimples piercing his cheeks. "Thanks, mom."

"I-I'm so p-proud of you."

"Don't cry, mom. You're too beautiful to cry."

Moira threw her head back and laughed wholeheartedly, wiping her tears. "Such a charmer, just like your father."

"Did someone call my name?"

At the sight of Harry, Noah beamed and looked like he'd been handed happiness on a silver platter. "Dad!"

"Hey bud." He hunched down and wrapped two arms around their son.

"You said you couldn't come..."

"The plan changed." He winked. "You did good, I'm glad I got to see. Wouldn't have missed it for the world."

The impossible became possible, and Noah's smile widened even more from the sound of his father's words. Surely, his cheek muscles would be hurting tomorrow from smiling so much.

From the end of the hallway, Richard and Gabriel appeared, approaching the three of them.

"Gabe! Did you see me dance? I was cool right?"

Gabriel nodded enthusiastically and high-fived his twin.

"I'm gonna go talk to his teacher for a bit, alright?" Moira muttered to her husband.

"I'll come with you."

Having overheard their short interaction, Richard said, "I'll take the kids to the café for some well-deserved hot chocolate."

"Yes, hot choco!" the twins screeched simultaneously.

Moira smiled fondly. "Thanks, dad. Cassie is watching the others right?"

"She's taking them out for a stroll, they'll be back in 10 minutes I think."

"Noted. Shall we meet in the parking lot in 15 minutes?"

Richard agreed and took the boys by hand before disappearing out of view. Together, Moira and Harry made way for where they thought Noah's ballet teacher was. So they could thank her for all she'd done for their son, make some small talk, etcetera.

"Excuse me?" a voice said.

The couple turned around to be faced with an unfamiliar woman.

"Hi, sorry, you don't know me but are you Moira Stones?"

"I am." Moira smiled pleasantly.

The woman clasped her hands together in delight. "Oh gosh, you designed the interior of my friend's beach house and it turned out amazing, I'm a huge fan!"

"Always nice to hear, I appreciate that."

"I'm thinking about giving my living room a makeover soon, do you have a card, so I could give you a call?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." Moira said, taking one of her business cards from her purse and handing it over to the woman.

They shook hands, the woman introduced herself and smiled in thanks. Then, she let her gaze for the first time trail over to the man beside Moira and shot him a look neither of them could pinpoint. It wasn't the usual look he received, especially not from females.

"Aren't you the guy from the toothpaste commercial?" she inquired, vaguely.

Harry groaned, muttering a quiet 'not again' under his breath while his wife was trying to resist the strong urge to burst out laughing.

After all these years.

"This is my husband, Harraël Stones."

The woman nodded in his direction. "Pleasure to meet you! You're lovely together, I apologise if I'm straightforward, but I could swear the two of you look like one of those movie couples."

Harry grinned in amusement, "We do have one hell of a love story."