Family Tradition.

Family Tradition.
Morning crept in slowly. The kind of soft, hazy dawn that filtered through the curtains and painted everything in a gentle gold. Alina was still dead to the world, her hair a halo of tangled blonde spread across my chest. Her hand was still clutched in mine, like even in her dreams she refused to let go. Across from me, Hunter was already awake. He lay on his side, elbow propped up, just watching her with something that looked very close to worship and wonder.
I caught his eye and grinned. “You’re staring.”
He smirked, low and tired. “You would be too if you woke up to this.”
“Fair point.” I brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek, careful not to wake her. “She’s out cold.”
Hunter nodded, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You want breakfast?”
“Yeah,” I said, easing out from under her as quietly as I could. “I’ll make the coffee.”
He yawned, stretching before he swung his legs off the bed. “Deal. Maybe we can actually get one peaceful morning.”
We were halfway down the stairs, both still shirtless, when a sharp knock broke the silence. We froze.
Hunter frowned. “Who the hell?”
“It’s barely seven,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair as I crossed to the door. “If it’s Nix, I swear I’m shooting him.”
I swung the door open and blinked. There, standing on the porch like a bizarre early morning delivery service, were Isla, Mason, and Nico. Behind them, the truck was loaded down with boxes and bags. Stacks of them.
“What the hell is all this?” I asked, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
Mason just grinned, hauling one box off the pile and setting it at my feet. “Supplies.”
“Supplies?” Hunter echoed, still half-asleep.
Isla brushed past us, already eyeing the house like she owned the place. “For the nursery,” she said briskly. “What, you thought I was just gonna leave it trashed after last night?”
My eyebrows shot up. “You… what?”
“She forced three stores to open early,” Mason said with a shake of his head, clearly amused. “Raided every baby section in the area, bullied an entire hardware store into giving her paint samples, and then told us we were helping. So here we are.”
“Didn’t really have a choice,” Nico added, stifling a yawn. “She kicked our asses into the truck.”

Hunter leaned against the doorframe, trying and failing not to laugh. “So what, you’re all here to rebuild?”
“Exactly,” Isla said, clapping her hands once like a general rallying her troops. “Now, stop gawking and help unload. I’m not doing this alone.”
I exchanged a glance with Hunter, then looked back toward the stairs.
A slow smile spread across my face. “You know,” I said, stepping aside to let them in, “I think she’s gonna love this.”
Hunter chuckled, grabbing a box from Mason. “Guess breakfast can wait.”
“Yeah,” I said, hefting one of the bags over my shoulder, the weight oddly comforting. “Let’s build something beautiful.”

Hunter
“Just be quiet up here, okay? Alina’s still asleep.” I told the guys as we started bringing the first load upstairs.
Mason laughed and nudged my shoulder, “Big night, hey?”
I rolled my eyes but smirked anyway. How could I not when I imagined what we had done last night to her? The memory flashed hot and unbidden with her back arching, the soft hitch in her breath she'd cum, the way she’d whispered my name....Fuck. I shoved the thought down before it could show on my face. There’d be time for that later. It didn’t take long for us to clean up the mess. Mason and I got started on removing the broken things. Nico was doing patch repairs on the walls, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth and the drywall dust coated his dark hair in a fine grey mist, making him look older. Isla was straightening up the salvageable items, humming under her breath as she stacked books and folded throw blankets with military precision. She picked up the small pistol that Alina had fired yesterday, turning it over in her hands and smiling softly as she traced the inscription. The metal caught the weak morning light filtering through the curtains.
“Cute, right?” I said, coming up beside her.
“Very... Donatello style.” She smirked at me, the expression sharp and fond at once. Then she pulled out a little glass case from a box that looked exactly like the one from yesterday, same velvet lining, same brass latch. She passed it to me, and I held it open for her to place the weapon. Isla turned back to the boxes and pulled out something else. She turned to me and held out two perfectly made throwing stars, their edges catching the light and throwing of a shimmer.
“I figured my little niece or nephew needed a few more things for their very first arsenal.”
I barked a laugh that came out too loud; Mason shot me a warning glare from across the room. I lowered my voice. “You’re arming a fetus, Isla.”
“Preparation is half the battle,” she whispered back, eyes dancing. “Besides, you know Alina’s gonna want the kid to be able to defend itself before it can walk. Family tradition.”
I took the stars, testing their balance between my fingers. “You had these made?”
“Custom. Titanium core, ceramic coating and won’t set off metal detectors.” She tapped one point with her nail. “And before you ask, yes, I bribed the same guy to do it for me first thing thing morning.”
Nico snorted from the ladder, spackling compound dripping from his putty knife. “You people are insane. The kid’s not even the size of a lime yet.”
“Language,” Mason called, hefting a trash bag over his shoulder. “There’s a pregnant woman sleeping twenty feet away. She hears ‘lime’ and she’ll want margaritas.”
Isla and I both flipped him off in perfect sync. He grinned, the expression making the scar through his eyebrow pucker.
I slipped the throwing stars into the glass case beside the pistol, arranging them like deadly jewellery. “She’s gonna love these.”
Isla’s smile faded. “I hope so.”

We stood there for a moment, the easy banter draining into something heavier.
“Is she okay?” Isla asked quietly. “Really?”
“She will be.” I swallowed. “We all will be.”
Nico climbed down the ladder, wiping his hands on a rag. “Walls are patched. The paint will take a couple of hours to dry. We should probably wake her before the smell gets up there.”
Mason dropped the trash bag by the door. “I’ll make coffee. Decaf for pregnancy, right?”
Isla rolled her eyes, and I laughed, remembering how hard she had fought him on her kind of coffee when she was pregnant with Rosa.
"Yep, decaf." I answered, even though Kaiden shot me a look that screamed, 'she won't like that.
I took one last look at the glass case, pistol and throwing stars nestled side by side like promises, then I hung it on the wall exactly where Alina wanted it to be. Family tradition, indeed.