One of my very favorite things to write is characters who've faced down death and terror dealing with the terrors of ordinary, domestic frustrations.
This is from the promised Tommy's Wedding scene I'm working on now and will eventually put on Substack. I'm drawing it out a little for maximum domesticity.
It started at Christmas.
The holiday marked Cass and Shep’s second Christmas as a married couple, and the first Christmas for Raven and Toly’s second child, Alina, born in July. They celebrated at Raven and Toly’s, as usual, and Natalia was old enough to be a holy terror with the wrapping paper. She’d received a plastic tricycle, and Shep and Toly griped their way through putting it together while Nat bounced around with one of her new dolls, imploring them to hurry. Or “huwwy,” rather.
Shep pulled the packet of provided screws out of his mouth and sighed. “Kid, I’ve got no idea what you’re saying.” He ignored Toly’s glare and bent back to the trike’s front wheel. “Where in the fuck are these screws supposed to go? Fucking field surgery’s easier than this shit.”
“Don’t curse in front of the children, Shepherd!” Raven called from the kitchen.
Cass leaned forward off the couch to thwap him in the shoulder, and he shot her a betrayed look. She tried not to smile. “Are you going to curse in front of your own children?”
He blinked at her. “Yes!”
She gave up and laughed. Just in time for Raven to come back into the room with a tray of fresh coffee. “No,” she said, gaze zeroing in on Cass. “Don’t you dare encourage him.” She kicked at Toly’s hip on her way to the couch. “And don’t you let him do it in the first place.”
“Do you think I can control what he does?” Toly asked.
