The kitchen is a hot and crowded place. I've got my hair scraped back in a ponytail, which is falling apart by the second, and there's music blasting and ingredients everywhere. John and Alex are sitting in their room together, doing who even knows what. Tonight, dinner is up to me, and I'm very happy.

I've made macaroni and cheese (food of the gods), salad, and pineapple upside-down cake. I watched John teach Peggy how to make the cake a few weeks ago, and the result was a cake coated in sugar but noticeably lacking in pineapple slices- Peggy loves pineapple more than anything else.

Singing very horribly along to Journey, I pull the cake out of the oven and bang it out onto a rack to cool. I spin around, setting the table with pirouettes and grand jetes. This is just the way I like it, getting a little time to dance without anyone getting in the way. I move the dishes of macaroni and salad to the table, then make a tiny bowl of kale for Koopa.

"Dad and Dad! Dinner's ready!" I call up the stairs, but after a moment, nothing happens. Sighing, I set down my oven mitts and run up the stairs, then throw open the door to John and Alex's room.

They spring apart when they see me open the door, Alex hastening to fix the buttons on his shirt and John sheepishly putting his hair back up. I borrow a gesture from John and perform a world-class facepalm.

"S-sorry, honey, we didn't hear you calling from downstairs." John's cheeks are flushed behind his freckles.

I untie my apron, swiping a smudge of brown sugar from my nose. "Yeah, I'm sure you didn't."

Alex looks like he doesn't know whether to hide under the bed or laugh. "A-anyway, is dinner ready?"

I snicker. "Yes, dinner is ready. It'll get cold if you don't come down to eat it, though." With that, I turn on my heel and stalk back down the stairs.

After just a moment of waiting, Alex and John come back downstairs, looking suitably presentable once more. I bow before sitting down at the dinner table, pulling Koopa off of the rim of the salad bowl. "Welcome to dinner, as prepared by your daughter."

"This looks delicious, honey!" John takes a seat, squeezing Alex's hand. "Doesn't it, Al?"

Alex nods eagerly. "You did a great job...but what mess level is the kitchen, precisely?"

"Nothing at all...mostly." I scoop some macaroni onto my plate. It really does look gorgeous. I'm very proud of myself.

There's a sharp rap on the door, and I jump up to answer it. Door-answering duty has always been mine. When I pull it open, for a brief second I think I've opened the door onto to a parallel universe. Standing on the front step is a man who could be Alex's mirror image. My jaw drops, and I spend a good five seconds just staring.

"Is this Alexander Hamilton's house?" Not-Alex shifts from foot to foot, looking a little uncomfortable. Now that I'm looking at him closer, I see that he and Alex are more different than I thought. Not-Alex is a little taller, a little thinner to an almost emaciated appearance. He has much shorter hair, too, and it's spattered with more grey.

Alex gets up from the table and walks over to me. "Hey, Kat, who's at the-" His voice falters, and he stands, staring, with one hand pressed against the doorframe. He and Not-Alex look each other over for a moment, before my Alex finally speaks.

"Hello, James. It's been a long time."

"Who's James?" I have a habit of speaking up at all the wrong times, but that's combined with a burning desire to never be left out of anything. Hence, I ask all the wrong questions.

Alex takes a deep breath, then turns to me. "My big brother."

I cover my mouth with a hand, my thoughts flying. How come Alex has never mentioned my Uncle James before today? I've always loved having foster siblings, so to me, it would only make sense that he would be more than thrilled to have a brother. John sees my expression and gestures at me frantically, probably trying to cut off any questions I might be about to ask.

James looks Alex up and down. "Hello, Alexander."

I realize that I haven't blinked in approximately a minute and a half, and I feel a bit dizzy. "D-do you want to come in for dinner?" I made plenty of extra- leftovers have become my best friend this summer.

John puts a hand on my shoulder. He's trembling slightly. I wonder if he's as nervous as Alex is. "Yes, please do come in and have dinner with us. My daughter's been cooking today."

Alex squeezes John's hand in thanks. James nods. "If that's alright, I'd love to."

I turn away from the door and go to set an extra place at the table. Everything's been shaken up and turned around in the simple opening of a door. I never heard any stories about Alex's brother- and we have a lot of stories in this house. Whether ones we make for ourselves (the time we went sledding down the stairs on cookie trays) or the ones that my dads like to tell (about their childhoods), our histories run rampant in every inch of our home.

I know about John's brothers and sisters, about his old home in South Carolina, and about Alex's old best friends from Nevis. How have I never once heard about my uncle?

********

After an extremely awkward dinner, I'm a little tired. John and Alex exchange looks over my head, and finally, John says softly, "Kathryn, time for bed."

It's almost an hour earlier than normal, but I don't fight it. I stand up, bring my plate to the kitchen, then take John's hand and walk upstairs. He sits in the hall while I change into pajamas and brush my teeth. When I return from the bathroom, he's perched on my bed.

"Want to read, honey?" John leans back against the headboard of my bed and pats the spot beside him.

I crawl up to sit beside him. "Sure, I guess. What are we going to read?"

He flourishes a book. "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Best book in the multiverse."

"Okay, go for it." I pull the blankets over myself and lean my head on his shoulder.

I was not expecting the story to be as funny as it is, and several times I have to wipe my eyes from laughing so hard. After a while, though, I find myself yawning and my eyes drifting shut. John laughs and kisses my forehead. "Good night, honey."

There's a shout from downstairs, and John jumps up from the bed. I'm jerked from my almost-sleep, sitting bolt upright. "What's going on?"

"Stay in your room, Kat." He opens my door and shuts it forcefully behind himself- but not forcefully enough. It bounces back from the doorframe, leaving an inviting stripe of hallway light across my face. Slowly, quietly, I make my way through the crack and stand in the shadows on the stairway.

James and Alex are standing on opposite sides of the living room, shouting at one another. Alex looks like he's near tears, and James's face is red. John has his arms around Alex, and Ales whispers something in his ear.

John's inhale is audible from my position at the top of the stairs. He turns on James, and his voice is cold enough to send a chill down my spine. "Get out of my house. Stay away from my husband and get out of my house."

James glares at John, but turns on his heel and storms out of the house. The door slams behind him, and John pulls Alex into his arms. Alex begins to cry, his shoulders shaking, and he buries his face in John's chest.

John looks up and sees me in the shadows above the stairwell. His eyes meet mine. "I thought I told you," and his voice is deadly even, "to stay in your room."

I turn and run, tripping over my bunny slippers, into my room. I pull the covers over my head and try to fall asleep, but my heart is racing too hard. I hear the rise and fall of Alex's voice downstairs, and the almost impercievable hum of John's reassurance to him. It would make a good lullaby, if I could just fall asleep.

There's a tentative knock on my door, and Alex pushes it open. John follows, looking down at the floor. After a moment, he speaks. "Come here, honey."

I slide out of bed and walk over to them slowly. As soon as I get within arm's reach, John and Alex both smother me in a hug. I rest my head against Alex's chest and hear his heartbeat in my ear, soft and steady.

Alex starts to speak, and I can feel the vibration of his words. "Back in Nevis, my older brother left me alone. I always thought he died in that hurricane. Now, almost twenty years later, he comes back- and all he wanted was to ask me for money." His voice is shaking a little, and he hugs me even tighter.

"I'm sorry for getting mad at you, honey," John says softly. He kisses the top of my head. I close my eyes, and am finally ready to sleep.