September
1989

They were having a big group dinner tonight, which was rare. They all had such conflicting schedules these days - Susie's night shifts, Peter's excessive studying, Danny's drama club, Jenifer's constant napping, and Scott's job at the bakery. They were rarely all under the same roof at the same time. So, Susie decided that it was time to call for a family dinner.

She hadn't done much cooking since the boys were kids, so was grateful when Danny offered to help, an enthusiastic glint in his eye. He was always ready to be of service in the Wicks' trailer; it was his way of feeding the guilt he felt for living there rent free.

Danny was peeling a batch of potatoes, humming along to a song that was playing on the radio, watching as Susie chopped up the vegetables, "You're a really good cook." He said, "Peter always raves about your roast potatoes."

Susie smiled kindly, "He's exaggerating."

"I doubt it." Danny grinned.

"I don't get to cook much these days. I never have the time. It's why you lot have to live off of scraps Scott brings back from the bakery most nights." She said guiltily.

Danny shrugged, "Well, you're cooking tonight."

"With your help." She squeezed his shoulder affectionately. "You've been helping out a lot recently. With Scott." She glanced over the counter, her gaze landing on her son who was napping on the sofa, cuddled up beneath a blanket Danny had draped over him. He was still bruised and injured, and Danny's chest still ached when he looked at him. But he was healing. He was slowly becoming himself again.

He shrugged, "He doesn't need much help. He's too proud."

She laughed, "That's true." She agreed, "But you've been making him lunch every day and making sure he takes his meds. It's sweet. He's lucky to have you."

He felt heat in his cheeks, and tried desperately to focus on the potatoes he was peeling, "Yeah, well, he's a good friend."

She put down the knife, turning to face him properly, "C'mon now, Danny." She smiled knowingly.

His blush deepened and he refused to meet her gaze, "I don't...I don't what you're...?"

"I'm not blind." She chuckled, "I see how you are with him. How he is with you." She finally continued chopping up vegetables, "I'm just glad he's happy. He's not had it easy recently, what with the attack and all that. If you make his life even just a little better, then thank God for that. That's all I want for him."

He relaxed, the tension in his shoulders draining away, "I'm trying." He said quietly, "To make his life a little better. I'm trying."

Later that evening, they all sat around the cramped little table, surrounded by food and music and cheap corner-shop wine. Susie sat at the head of the table, Peter and Jenifer to her left, and Scott and Danny to her right. There was chatter and laughter and loud recycled stories. Everyone was smiling and everything was filled with joy. This was just another one of those moments Danny wanted to bottle up and carry around with him. Because it was so sweet and so warm and so powerful.

"How about Jack, if it's a boy?" Peter was saying to Jenifer, pouring himself a glass of wine.

"No way." Danny interjected, "That's my Dad's name."

"Right." Peter waved it off, stabbing a roast potato with his fork, "God, Mum, these spuds are fucking divine."

"Danny helped." She smiled proudly.

"You gotta teach me how you make these." Jenifer said through a mouthful of roast potatoes, "They're bloody delicious."

"Yeah, please don't leave the family legacy with Danny." Peter snorted.

"Our family legacy is roast potatoes?" Scott rose his brows questioningly.

"Danny is family." Susie shrugged, and Danny felt a swell of warmth grow in his chest.

In a moment of unguarded joy, he reached out and grabbed Scott's hand under the table, interweaving their fingers together. Scott looked across at him, face flushed, smiling shyly. God, Danny thought, I fucking love you.

"Hey, I got an interview at that pub I was telling you about." Danny said. He wondered if the others could tell he was holding Scott's hand under the table, but even if they could, it wouldn't matter.

"Great, once this baby is out of me you're gonna help me get shit faced." Jenifer snorted, eyeing the bottle of wine resentfully while she sipped at her lemonade.

Scott reached for the bottle of wine himself but Danny tugged at his hand cautiously, "You shouldn't really drink." He said quietly, trying to sound gentle, "The meds you're on are pretty strong-"

"It's fine, Danny." He shrugged him off.

"Scott, really, it's not recommended-"

"Danny." Scott pulled his hand out of his, placing it on the table, out of reach.

"He's right, Scott." His Mother gave him a stern look, "The doctors said to-"

"Alright, fine." He put the bottle down, slouching back in his chair sulkily. He reminded Danny of Peter whenever he acted this stubborn.

"Hey, I feel you, Scott." Jenifer gave him a sympathetic look, "Try nine months of this bullshit." She gestured to her glass of lemonade.

He smiled at her gratefully, "Yeah, you're right. You have it worse." He sighed, "Just feels like I'm still being punished. I'm still injured, I still can't drink... When will this attack finally be over?"

Danny wanted to hold his hand again, to comfort him, to feel him, to tell him it was okay. But Scott already pulled away once, he wasn't going to make him do it again. "It will be over soon." He said uselessly, "You're healing really well."

Scott relaxed, shoulders falling, smile returning, "Sorry. Didn't mean to bring the mood down, I guess I've just been feeling a little down recently." He grabbed Danny's hand again, this time shamelessly, holding it on top of the table for everyone to see. "I'll feel better once I go back to work. I didn't realise how much I loved that bakery until I couldn't go anymore."

Danny squeezed his hand, "Yeah, I gotta say, I do miss the pastries you used to bring home."

"Yeah, those éclairs are to die for." Jenifer interjected.

"And those croissants - the almond ones." Peter added, "Fucking hell, I think I saw one of them in my dream the other night."

"Don't talk about food." Susie groaned, "I'm so full."

"Not me." Jenifer reached for a second helping of potatoes, "This baby has been starving recently. It's gonna come out so fat, I know it."

"Well, we'll find out soon enough; not long to go now." Peter watched her fondly, "How you feeling?"

"Terrified." She said plainly.

"It's not so bad." Susie promised her, "You'll be fine."

"Thanks." She didn't look reassured in the slightest. "I'm trying not to think about it."

"What about Anna, for a girl?" Scott offered up, his thumb tracing circles on the back of Danny's hand.

Jenifer cocked her head to the side curiously, "Anna." She echoed, tasting the word on her lips, "Anna. I like it." Her brows knitted together in concentration, "Anna, Anna, Anna-"

Danny groaned loudly, "Yes. Anna. Lovely name. We don't need to hear it a million times."

"I'm trying to familiarise myself with it." She argued, "See how it feels, y'know?"

"And how does it feel?" Scott prompted.

"Good." She smiled, "I mean...sort of. It feels...It feels close to what I'm looking for. I can't quite put my finger on it."

"How about George, for a boy?" Danny suggested.

"George." Jenifer repeated, "That's cute. Where'd you get that from?"

Danny shrugged, looking down at his lap, "It was my uncle's name."

Peter frowned at him, "I didn't know you had an uncle."

"Yeah, well, I never met him."

Scott was watching him cautiously, but didn't dare say a word. He just continued tracing shapes on the back of Danny's hand, letting him know that he was there.

The truth was, Danny had been thinking about his uncle a lot recently. He used to think of him as this blurry figure draped in shadows and darkness. All alone in the world. Shunned by his family, neglected by society, seen as a freak of nature. An anomaly. A mistake. But recently, that had changed. Danny had a new perspective. Because his uncle may have been abandoned by his family, but that didn't mean he was alone. He may have found a new family, just like Danny had. One who loved him and took care of him. One who didn't give him bruises and scars and trauma.

Maybe his uncle died happy. Maybe he had a boyfriend. Friends. Family. Maybe he was loved.

Home, Danny thought, looking around at the smiling faces lining the table. This was home. These people and these faces and these smiles.

Maybe his uncle had found the meaning of home, too. In the face of a rosy cheeked boy with a kind smile and bright eyes. Someone like Scott, who loved him, even when his own blood and flesh didn't. Someone like Peter and Jenifer. Someone like Susie.

Home. These people were his home.