"Dad, do you like it? Would you live here?"

Her father looked at her without speaking. "I like my house, MJ. I like Santa Monica. This is far from the diner. And my friends." He gestured between MJ and Heath, who were standing on the other side of the huge kitchen island. "Young people need their own space, don't they? No young couple wants a geriatric hanging around their new house."

Heath and MJ looked at each other. It was summer of the following year, and they had been living with Tasos in his house in Santa Monica since the end of the tour the previous fall. It hadn't been too bad, because none of the fans could figure out where he lived, so they were left pretty much alone.

MJ's album had dropped just before the deadline in the fall, and she had indeed gotten a nomination for best new artist, much to Meredith's disgust. She had been all over social media, talking about how horrible MJ was in real life, what a backstabbing whore, what a lying slut, but none of it had stuck, especially with Heath going active on his Twitter and Instagram for the first time in years, posting funny stories about him and MJ's house hunting woes and mishaps. Poppy and Archie, too, had chimed in, with funny stories about the tour, and photographs of the four of them.

Meredith's career was pretty much dust by the end of the year, and she had celebrated this by getting a very obvious and very bad breast augmentation, which had made her the joke of Hollywood. She was now making the rounds of reality shows, telling her tale of woe.

MJ's grammy win in March had been the cherry on top of an amazing year for MJ, and with Heath by her side, she had accepted the award, thanking everyone she could think of, including her dad, and her mother, who had given her the gift of music before flying away to become an angel.

"Bampás, we've been living with you for the last eleven months, and we've loved it, truly," Heath said, covering MJ's hand with his own. "We don't want to leave you behind just because we're getting our own place. We don't," he stressed, nodding for emphasis. "We're not like other young people, we love living with a geriatric, please come live with us."

"Please, dad," MJ added. "You said it yourself, you're not young, you shouldn't be alone anymore. You weren't young when you met mom, when you had me..." she trailed off.

"I'm only sixty-five," Tasos said indignantly. "I'm not old. "You know that Widow Galatas from the market is still after me?" he asked, thumping his chest.

"Yes, dad, I know," MJ responded, rolling her eyes. "Did you see how this house has it's own suite here, off the kitchen? It's basically it's own little house down here, with it's own entrance and everything, even it's own yard, you could have a garden and everything--"

"I saw, I saw," Tasos said. "It's a beautiful house, it is, and your offer is incredible." He came around the island and put one hand on each of their arms. "I'm a lucky man to have not only a daughter to love me so much, but to have her man love me so much as well, I know that."

Heath and MJ knew he was thinking of his brother, whose son-in-law couldn't stand him, and was trying to put him in a retirement home.

Heath looked at MJ, who nodded, and back at Tasos.

"Okay, would it matter if I told you that we were going to have to start calling you, uh, pappoús in about seven months?" Heath asked finally with a small grin.

"What?" Tasos asked. "No, I told you, you call me bampás I don't care of you're married or--what? What did you say?"

"Pappoús," MJ said, smiling.

Grandpa.

Tasos' eyes grew huge, his caterpillar eyebrows nearly creeping up into his hairline. "MJ, Heath, you wouldn't joke about this to an old man, would you?"

"No, sir," Heath said, his grin growing.

"Oh my god," Tasos shouted, reaching out to pick up both Heath and MJ in a huge hug. "Oh no, no, better not squeeze you too hard," he admonished himself as he quickly put MJ down. "When?" he asked, looking back and forth between them. "When, hm?" he asked, turning to Heath. "When did it happen?"

Heath's eyebrows drew together as he tried to determine how to answer this question.

"Erm, when did it happen, sir?" he repeated. He scratched his head.

"Dad?" MJ prompted.

"Oh, no, of course not!" Tasos laughed, slapping Heath's shoulder. "When will it be born? That's what I meant, of course, of course!"

"Ace, that I can answer," Heath said with relief. "Sometime around March 10th of next year," he told Tasos.

"March, how wonderful!" Tasos shouted. "I have to tell my brothers! Heath, now you're the bampás! We have to have some ouzo! Not you, of course, MJ," he scolded, as though she'd pulled a glass out of her pocket.

MJ just laughed as Heath slipped an arm around her.

"I hope it's this much fun when we tell your family," she murmured to Heath.

"So does this mean you'll move in with us? Pappoús?" Heath asked.

"Of course!" Tasos answered. "You two are so busy, running off to record albums, make videos, film movies--" Heath had just been cast in Steven Spielberg's new movie, a supporting role, but fairly major. "Someone has to be here to take care of the little one, right? To change diapers and take her to the park? You wouldn't hire someone, would you? Take the job away from her pappoús?" Tasos looked ready to be very offended.

"Never," Heath assured him, leaning forward to hug him.

"This is so perfect," Tasos said. "My brother needs a place to live that's close enough to walk to the diner so his idiot son-in-law doesn't put him in a home. I can sell him my house, and he can live there with his girlfriend. They were worried about finding a place to live that they could afford.

"But what if they can't afford my place?" he worried.

"Why don't you just give it to him?" Heath suggested.

"But then I won't have the money for my share of this place," Tasos said. "That house is my security.

"Oh, pappoús, we would never take money from our family to live with us," Heath said. "How could you hurt my feelings like that?" He covered his hand with his heart in a very obvious and melodramatic way. "You're going to provide us with free childcare for years and years, right?"

"Of course!" Tasos said. "You expect me to take money to care for my own flesh and blood?"

Heath smiled. "Okay, then, give Costas the house and really piss that stupid son-in-law off. Show that tosser how real families do things, yeah?"

"Yeah!" Tasos agreed with enthusiasm. He looked around. "This house is empty. We need some ouzo, now!"

The three of them laughed as they left the six thousand square food mansion on the two acre lot. MJ called the realtor to tell her to make an offer, which was accepted two days later.

🌴☀️🌴☀️🌴☀️🌴☀️🌴☀️🌴☀️🌴

"You really want that?" MJ whispered, her mouth distractingly close to Heath's ear, very sexy.

"Yeah, I do," he answered, sliding his hand up her stomach, which was still flat, and around to her smooth, beautiful back, loving the silky feel of her camisole. "I'm sorry, MJ, but I really, really do." He let her go and turned over on his back, a little frustrated. He put his arm behind his head, looking up at the ceiling of MJ's childhood bedroom. "Call me a selfish bastard, but I want to see the woman I love dressed in a beautiful white dress, with a pretty veil, and I want us to say vows to each other in front of the people we love, promising to love each other forever and ever." He put his other hand on her belly. "Especially now."

MJ sighed, and her sigh had a quaver in it which Heath heard. It made him feel bad. He took a breath, but MJ talked before he could.

"No. No, don't you dare apologize. And you are not a selfish bastard, you know that, I wish you wouldn't say that, you know it makes me upset."

He scooped his arm around her and pulled her close, so she could stretch her hand across his hard, muscular chest.

"I'm sorry, Heath. You just need to understand this. I'm not saying no on some stupid whim, you know?" She scooted in, heartened to feel his arm tighten around her. "I know how important this is to you, and you know I know. So you must know that the only reason I'd say no is if it were more important to me, right?"

Reluctantly, he nodded.

"I know you think I'm beautiful. And I believe it. Completely. And I love you for it." MJ kissed his chest. "And I'm grateful to you, so grateful. I'm so different from the girl you met on the plane that night, the girl who freaked out because she drooled on your hoodie. You've helped me, so much, Heath. But you telling me I'm beautiful doesn't fix me, pouf, like a person with a wand, you know?

"This isn't about how you see me, this is about how I see me," she said. "I need you to understand that. I mean, do you know how awful I'd feel to stand in front of a group of people in a poufy white dress, how judged I'd feel, how ugly, how fat?"

"But no one would be judging you, darling," Heath said, turning to face her so he could put his other arm around her. "It would only be family, yours and mine, that's all. No outsiders. If you wanted, it would only be Arch, Pops, Mum, Dad, and pappoús, and no one else at all, I swear."

"Heath. We know, better than anyone, how things get out, don't we?" MJ's voice was barely audible in the cool evening. "There's no way in the world photographs wouldn't get out, we're two of the most sought after celebrities in the entire world right now. It would be awful. I'd get called 'killer marshmallow,' and 'The Pillsbury Doughgirl," and "The Great White Whale," and--"

"Whoa, whoa, stop, stop," Heath admonished, smoothing her hair. "How long did you think to come up with those?"

"Oh, please, those were just off the top of my head," MJ said, disdain in every syllable. She tried to swipe at her tears before they fell on Heath's arm, but she was unsuccessful.

"Fuck it all," Heath said when he felt them. "I'm so fucking sorry, MJ. It's not good for you to cry."

MJ laughed. "What are you talking about?"

Heath rubbed her belly gently.

"It can't be good for the baby," he explained.

MJ burst out laughing. "Please, it's only the size of a raspberry right now, it has no idea if I'm crying or going to the bathroom, Heath!"

"MJ, shh!" Heath chastised, trying to cover her mouth. "She's right there, you're probably hurting her feelings."

"Oh god, Heath, stop," MJ gasped. "You're making me laugh too hard, I'm probably going to barf the baby out or something, Jesus!"

"MJ!"

"Sorry!"

She finally got herself under control, and kissed Heath, who kissed her back with growing ardor. He let his hands roam all over her body, growing more and more excited, before finally stopping.

"I don't know if we should be doing this, MJ. It might not be good for the baby."
"What?"
"You know, our activities put my equipment awfully close to where it's, erm, trying to set up housekeeping. Maybe we shouldn't, just for a bit--"

MJ snorted. "Set up housekeeping?" More snorting and gasping.

"And you have to stop doing that as well, you might, you know, expell it somehow--"

"Oh god, I can't breathe--"

"What? Stop that, right fucking now, MJ, I mean it--"

"Jesus, I'm getting a cramp in my stomach--"

"What? Oh my god, I'd better get bampás--I mean pappoús--oh fuck--"

"Heath, don't you fucking dare get my dad--" more snorting laughter.

"What should I do?"

"Just stop fucking talking for a mother fucking minute, oh my god--!"

MJ finally got her laughter under control again, heaving for breath with her hand on Heath's shoulder.

"Okay, Heath, my love, I'll make you a deal," she said when she was finally able to talk. "How about you make me feel good with your fingers tonight? That way we won't disturb the raspberry while it's trying to, um, set up housekeeping?"

Heath slid his arms around her and kissed her. "I should make you apologize to me for being a cheeky, cunty bitch, but I won't because you're carrying my child. And I'll even make you feel good with my very skillful fingers, because I love you so."

Thank you, thank you so very much. I love you, Heath Michael Spencer."

"And I love you, Meadow Rain Jasse-cheekycuntymolada."