Any pictures she wants to save will be scanned onto her laptop. Alan had let her borrow the scanner over the weekend. It was his work scanner, but he said no one would mind. It was his clinic, after all.

So here she was. She pulled down the earliest box she had—March through October, 1997. Scott was two, about this time, just starting to run around. He’d been such a cautious baby before that. When he learned to walk, he’d demanded that whichever parent was nearby would hold his hands over his head as he carefully toddled to wherever he wanted to get.

Raph had snapped one such picture of her helping Scott walk to the dinner table. It was only the fifth picture she’d looked at so far, but she found herself smiling at it, eyes already watering.

Scott was wearing that cute onesie he loved. It had a hood he could pull up that gave him elephant ears. He’d loved that onesie. She’d loved that onesie.

Melissa sets the photo up to be scanned before she loses any more time looking at her once small son. She misses the times when his biggest worry was whether or not she would cut the crusts off his pb&j. It all sounds so simple, now, and...well, she wishes she could go back to that. It would be easier on Scott--easier on her, too, but that doesn’t matter as much to her.

The next photo is of her kissing Raph. She immediately tosses it into the burn pile. Dickhead.

Some of the pictures are easy, like that. She knows she has no need for pictures of Raph before he drank so much and she knows that she will always want to keep pictures of Scott. She even allows a family picture to stay, even though it makes her wince when she sees it. She knows--believes, anyway--that Scott should have some pieces of his past that include his biological father.

But pictures of Raph without Scott in them? Burn ‘em.

She tries not to get caught up in pictures of Scott too often. Sometimes she can smile for a moment and put the photo in the scan pile, and other times, she’s caught up in a memory she can’t put away.

Like hereScott had wanted so desperately to go to the park. He’d dressed himself all on his own, in green corduroys and a sweater vest--just a sweater vest. He hadn’t understood why Melissa had laughed so hard and taken a picture of his pouting face before helping him into a t-shirt that would keep him a bit more comfortable.

She chuckles, remembering the way Scott would repeat “Arms up!” over and over whenever she helped him change his shirt. He’d been so cute and small, and now—she looked over at the most recent picture she had of him, hanging on the wall. He’d send it to her via text message—it was a selfie with Kira. They’d taken it with the flash off and Scott’s eyes were screwed shut, to prevent any otherworldly glows. They were so relaxed and happy.

“Things are surprisingly normal here,” she says. “Marin’s out in her shop. Did you want to talk to her too?”

“I only have a few minutes,” Braeden says, the apology unspoken but present in her tone and the way she sighs quietly, like she's trying to bite it back. “I just wanted to know when your next day off is.”

“This Saturday and Sunday, actually.”

“Really?” Melissa is just as surprised as Braeden; she can’t remember the last time she had two days off in a row. But one of the other nurses had offered to take her Saturday shift and while Melissa couldn’t help but wonder if there was some ulterior motive lurking behind the offer, she'd decided not to question it too thoroughly.

“I know, I'm amazed too. Scott mentioned something about going camping too, so he probably won't be coming by. It should be a quiet weekend. Hopefully.”

“I’m going to try and make it back by then,” Braeden says. “As long as this job doesn’t suddenly go south...”

“But don’t most of them go that way?”

“Yeah,” Braeden laughs, the sound quiet and all too brief. “They do. Tell Marin I called. Miss you both.”

“Miss you too,” Melissa says quietly before hanging up. She sets her phone down and stretches back out, only remembering the remote when it digs into her hip. She turns the movie back on, but almost immediately, her thoughts begin to drift.

When she committed herself to Braeden and Marin, she knew what she was getting herself into. But she can count on two hands the number of days in the last four months that all three of them have been in their bed at the same time. While it’s still nice to wake up to the warmth of one of them (both Marin and Braeden burn hot), it still feels almost hollow when the other isn’t pressed against Melissa's side.

But still, it could be worse. At least Braeden has been able to call home on this assignment. Sometimes, they don't even get that luxury.

By the time Marin comes inside, Melissa has almost drifted off. She isn’t quite sure what the plot of the movie is, but she’s pretty sure that it’s supposed to be a comedy. Maybe.

“Braeden called,” she yawns as Marin comes into the living room. Per usual, she smells like herbs and something sharper that Melissa can almost taste on the tip of her tongue.

“I was starting to worry about her.” Melissa sits up so that Marin can join her, but Marin gently pushes on Melissa’s shoulder until she lies back down and places her head in Marin’s lap. Immediately, her long fingers go to Melissa’s hair and start gently pulling out the ponytail she's been wearing for nearly fourteen hours now.

“Me too,” Melissa replies, yawning again as Marin’s hands slowly comb through her hair, picking out some of the knots that have formed over the day. Her stomach rumbles and she knows that she should eat something before bed, but even with the promise of food, getting up really doesn't seem to be worth it.

So instead, she closes her eyes and sinks further into the couch, lulled to sleep by the comfort of Marin’s presence and the soothing feeling of her fingers against Melissa’s scalp.

Melissa wakes up Saturday morning, legs still sore from an evening of running around the ER, to the sound of music drifting through the floorboards.

She slowly sits up and stretches out a kink in her neck. Unsurprisingly, Marin is already out of bed; truth be told, Melissa isn’t sure if Marin ever actually sleeps, or if she just humors them by coming to bed for a few hours.

She makes a mental note to ask Deaton who, come to think of it, she's never even seen yawn.

She pulls on her bathrobe, pulls her hair back and pads downstairs. The smell of coffee and the sizzling sound of bacon invites her into the kitchen, where Marin is perched on the edge of the counter, leafing through a huge, leather bound book.

Braeden is standing at the stove, still wearing her boots, watching the pan. Her duffle bag is sitting near the fridge and when she turns around, Melissa can see the lump of a pistol resting against her ribcage.

“When did you make it back?” she asks, meeting Braeden halfway and pulling her into a hug. Braeden’s gun digs into her chest, but that’s a feeling she’s become accustomed to.

“Just a few minutes ago,” she replies, pressing her lips to the side of Melissa’s neck. “I took over breakfast duties so Marin could pack, but that hasn’t happened yet.”

“In a minute,” Marin says in return, not lifting her head from the thick book.

“Pack for what?” Melissa asks. “Are you both leaving?” Braeden kisses her forehead and when she steps away, she’s smiling in a way that never fails to make Melissa melt slightly.

“When was the last time you went on a road trip?”

As soon as they’re done eating, Melissa phones Scott to let him know what’s going on. The call goes straight to voicemail and she leaves a message, throwing clothes into her battered suitcase with the hand that isn’t holding the phone.

“Hey honey, I have some exciting news! We’re going on a road trip to… well, actually, I don’t know where we’re going.” She momentarily pauses and looks at Marin, who is carefully folding a pair of pants and placing them into a black duffle bag. She looks up and shrugs, so Melissa continues. “It can’t be that far away, because we’re coming back tomorrow. Anyways, call me if you need anything. Please keep Stiles away from any campfires, because I’m not coming back just to deal with that. Love you!”

By the time they finish packing and head outside, Braeden is already in the car. It’s not the same one she left with, although that’s a common enough occurrence. What makes it stand out is its sheer conspicuousness. As opposed to the the black SUV’s or neutral colored vehicles Braeden usually brings home, it’s a cherry red convertible, nearly the size of a boat. The canvas top is down and the long bench seats inside are covered in what looks like real leather the color of beach sand.

“Where did you find this?” Melissa asks as she stashes her suitcase in the trunk, which easily looks large enough to sleep in.

“Someone who owed me a favor,” Braeden replies. She’s behind the wheel, wearing her leather jacket and aviators, head tipped back against the seat. “It might be tight, but I think we can all fit in the front.”

“I’m going to take the back, actually,” Marin says, nimbly stepping into the backseat. She’s still holding the leather bound book and there’s a cloth bag hung over her shoulders that contains mountain ash, among other things. “At least for the first leg. Are you sure you don’t need to sleep first?”

“I’m fine,” Braeden says. “The drive isn’t that long anyways.” Melissa slides into the front passenger seat, pulling her hair back into a ponytail so that the light breeze doesn’t whip her curls into a snarled mess. It’s still early, but it’s already a warm day and there's not a cloud in sight. Melissa smiles as she stretches her legs out into the roomy footwell and lets her arm dangle against the side of the car.

Even if they only drive to the grocery store, she thinks this would be the most beautiful day she’s had in awhile.

As it turns out, they drive much further than that. They take the scenic route out of town, bypassing the interstate in favor of one of the winding roads that skirts the preserve. While it's still a week before the full moon, Melissa finds herself automatically peering into the treeline, looking for any sign of creatures darting towards them.

“There’s nothing there,” Marin says, leaning forward and brushing away a strand of Melissa’s hair that has escaped her ponytail. “I’d feel it.” When Melissa glances backwards, she sees that Marin has traced a rune in mountain ash on the seat beside her. Somehow, even though the wind is strong enough to make Marin’s crop top flap around the bottom of her ribs, the rune doesn’t move an inch.

Melissa has no idea what the symbol means, but seeing it makes her feel much safer.

They keep driving for another hour, only stopping to get coffee and fill up the car. Eventually, Braeden turns down a side road, which ends at a rusting gate marked with an equally rusting No Trespassing sign.

“Brae, are you sure this is the right place?” Marin asks once they've stopped in front of the gate.

“It does look a bit rustic,” Melissa adds.

“I thought you two had more faith in me than that,” Braeden says over her shoulder as she slides out of the car, boots crunching over twigs and gravel as she approaches the gate. “You did marry me.”

"Commit to you," Melissa automatically replies but still, Braeden does have a point. She slides into the driver’s seat and nudges the car forward after Braeden opens the gate. The road ahead is little more than two deep ruts in the ground and she switches spots with Braeden again; the convertible is a little more powerful than she's used to, and the last thing she wants to do is bottom it out. After a few more minutes of driving, the path meets a small clearing, which is dominated by a fair sized wood cabin with a red metal roof. The front is dominated by huge picture windows and a deck that extends around to the back of the building. While the grass in front is a little long, the place is otherwise in fair better condition than Melissa anticipated.

“Where’d you find out about this place?” Marin asks as she climbs out of the back seat.

“Someone else owed me a favor,” Braeden replies. She hesitates for a moment, fingers still wrapped around the wheel and Melissa exchanges a look with Marin. It’s not often that Braeden goes quiet and still after speaking and they both know that it usually means their partner is going to say something that she won’t feel comfortable repeating.

“We never got to have our honeymoon,” Braeden finally continues, steering wheel creaking under her flexing fingers. “I know that it's only a day but it’s a start.”

“Every day with you two feels like a honeymoon,” Melissa says, sliding across the bench seat and draping her fingers over Braeden’s. “This is just a bonus.”

“It’s true,” Marin says, leaning into the car and kissing Braeden. Braeden’s eyes close and she twists her hand so that her fingers slot between Melissa’s hand. Melissa finds herself lost in the sight before her. Both of her partners are always beautiful but when they kiss, every ounce of tension melts away from them. There aren’t words to describe the feeling that spreads through her chest as she watches, something almost overwhelming, just this side of addictive.

If she had to describe it, the only word that comes close is perfection.

When Marin pulls away, she’s smiling slightly, closed lips upturned. She presses another kiss to Braeden’s lips before standing upright and tucking her book under her arm.

“I’m going to start bringing stuff in. Is it locked?”

“The key is under the floormat,” Braeden replies. She shifts slightly so that she’s facing Melissa, leather squeaking underneath her. Her face is still open and unguarded and Melissa raises her hand to it, curving it around Braeden’s cheek.

“I meant it, you know,” she says. Braeden nods and twists to kiss Melissa’s palm.

“I know,” she murmurs, warm lips brushing against Melissa’s skin. “I know.” She presses another kiss against her palm before pulling away and taking off her sunglasses.

“Let’s go help Marin,” she says. “I want as much time as I can with you two.”

Half an hour later, Braeden is asleep.

While Marin and Melissa unpacked and explored the rest of the cabin, she had laid down on the couch, which was situated right in front of one of a perfect patch of sunlight. Melissa ducked into the kitchen to see if there was any food in the fridge (the answer was a resounding no) and when she came back, Braeden’s eyes were closed and her soft breathing was slow and steady.

“Wonder when the last time she slept was,” Melissa asks as she steps out onto the deck. Marin is stretched out barefoot in a plastic lounger chair, which is slightly gritty with dust and dirt.

“Too long, probably,” Marin replies as Melissa brushes some dead, crinkled leaves off another chair. “None of us sleep enough.”

“One day,” Melissa says, stretching out as well. “When I retire, I am spending an entire week sleeping. Nothing else, just sleep.”

“I’m sure by that point, I’ll be ready to join you,” Marin laughs. After a moment, she gets up and settles herself astride Melissa’s lap. The chair creaks ominously underneath them and Melissa waits until it stops before moving her hands to Marin’s waist, bare and warm under the hem of her crop top.

“Is this okay?” Marin asks, threading her arms around Melissa’s neck.

“I’m more than fine with it,” Melissa replies, letting her hands move a little higher. “This chair, on the other hand…”

“If it breaks, you can patch us up,” Marin says with a smile, sharp nails gently scratching at the nape of Melissa’s neck. “It wouldn’t be the first time, right?”

Melissa doesn’t bother to answer; she simply tilts her head up until her lips meet Marin’s. She’s prepared for the spark that passes between them, but it still takes her lips a moment to lose the sense of numbness that momentarily floods them.

She's sure that there's a way to limit or maybe even completely eliminate the spark but truth be told, she actually enjoys it.

The more they kiss, the louder the chair creak and while Melissa is sure that she could patch up any injuries that occurred, she doesn’t really relish the idea of spending even a few minutes of her honeymoon stitching someone up. So when Marin’s fingers reach for the hem of her blouse, she reluctantly pulls away.

“Maybe we should take this inside,” she says, glancing towards the open door of the cabin.

“It would be nice to have a little more room,” Marin agrees, getting to her feet. “We’ll have to try and be quiet.”

“I always try to be quiet,” Melissa responds, taking Marin’s hand when it’s offered. “I just don’t often succeed.”

“I don’t mind,” Marin says, before leaning in and whispering something in Melissa’s ear that makes tingling warmth flash through her entire body.

“Okay, bedroom, before we end up on something else breakable.”

Melissa tries to be quiet, she really does. They close the door and she presses her face into a pillow but still, just as she cranes her head up to press her mouth against the inside of Marin’s firm thigh, the door opens and Braeden comes in, pushing her mussed hair away from her face.

“Did we wake you up?” Marin asks, sounding remarkably nonplussed even though she's warm and wet and her legs are trembling underneath Melissa’s palms.

“Not really.” Braeden shrugs her jacket onto the floor before climbing onto the bed and stretching out beside them. “I just wanted to watch, if that’s okay.”

“It’s okay with me,” Melissa says a little breathlessly, turning her face back and pulling Marin down to her mouth. Her cheeks are definitely flushed and warm; she still finds it overwhelming sometimes, the sheer amount of sensation and feeling that comes with the three of them being together, even if they aren’t necessarily entwined or touching. Braeden’s gaze feels like another set of fingertips roaming over her body and caressing her curves. When Braeden does start touching her, trailing her fingers up her ribs and along where Marin’s knees are splayed on either side of Melissa’s neck, it’s only her callouses that tell Melissa the touch is actually there.

Marin comes with a silent shudder, headboard groaning as she grips it and rocks down against Melissa’s face. Melissa gently kneads her thumbs into the back of Marin’s thighs as she rides it out, pressing into tight knots of muscle. When Marin slides off, almost melting into a heap at Melissa’s side, Melissa only has enough time to grab a quick breath before Braeden leans over and kisses her, tongue licking up some of the remaining mess around her lips.

“I don’t know about you two,” Braeden murmurs once she’s pulled away, “but I’m hungry.”

“There’s nothing in the kitchen. At all,” Marin says, hair hanging in her face, slim body stretched out against the sheets.

“Well, there’s a town a few miles away,” Braeden replies. “They should have a store. Or a restaurant.” Melissa’s stomach growls; breakfast is little more than a distant memory and she definitely just burned some calories.

“I vote restaurant. And we should get some snacks for later,” she says. “But in a few more minutes. I want to enjoy this a little longer.”

“Fine by me,” Marin murmurs, rolling onto her side and resting her hand on Melissa’s hip.

They end up falling asleep and when Melissa wakes up, her body is sticky with sweat and her head feels clouded over. Her mouth is bone-dry and she’s even hungrier, stomach growling almost as soon as she opens her eyes.

Still, as she glances to either side and sees both Braeden and Marin still dozing, all of her physical complaints seem trivial.

There's a Mexican restaurant in town that's only steps away from a small beach. They eat out on the patio and while Braeden pays (after five minutes of insisting), Marin darts across the sidewalk and down to the sand. She kicks off her shoes before stepping into the water, seemingly not caring that the bottoms of her jeans are quickly soaked through.

“This place is so quiet,” she says as Melissa catches up with her after toeing off her own shoes. “It's still.” Her eyes are closed and her hands are hanging loose at her sides, palms facing the ocean. “I don’t think anything supernatural has ever brushed through here.”

“Maybe we should start looking at retirement options then,” Melissa laughs. “I could go for quiet.” Marin smiles cryptically and reaches out for Melissa’s hand, finding it effortlessly. After a few more moments, Braeden joins them, boots splashing through the shallow water. Without a word, she takes Marin’s other hand.

Even though Melissa can feel the odd looks sinking into the back of her neck, they stay like that, gentle waves lapping against their legs, until the warmth from the sun begins to fade.

The rest of the evening is spent in perfect, content laziness. They make popcorn in the microwave and eat it on the sofa, which is just large enough to fit the three of them. Whoever owns the cabin has a fairly respectable collection of both movies and books and while Braeden puts something on, Melissa flips through the first pages of a paperback she’s wanted to read for quite some time. Marin is back to scanning through her large tome, occasionally adding a sticky note to one of the yellowed pages.

While it may not be the most romantic way to spend a honeymoon, Melissa doesn't mind. Being a druid, much like being a nurse, is something that can’t be turned off, even if you’d like it to.

Besides, she still has both of her partners at her side, warm and safe and present in the moment. Really, she couldn’t ask for anything more.

They decide to take the scenic route back.