There was something uniquely special about feeling grounded.

Sam had spent his whole life fighting against waves. When he was a kid, he almost drowned and that feeling of water in his lungs followed him his whole life— the strong desire to expel the water, to swim harder than the sea, to become brave enough to get back in the deep end. He spent his entire adolescent and not a little of his adulthood beneath the surface of the water, trying to prove to anyone who would look that he wasn’t that same scared boy.

Later, after he had realized that fighting against the ocean was so pointless that it bordered on being stupid, Sam realized that he didn’t need to fight water. He just needed to learn how to tread it. He needed to not be afraid of it, sure, but he didn’t need to make it afraid of him, either. That was pointless and even if he had succeeded, it would have yielded the same result: one of them avoiding the other.

Sam learned that being brave wasn’t the same as doing the hard things and being strong wasn’t the same thing as having strength. He learned that being able to respect and understand the water was way more important.

He would tell this to his husband one night when they laid in the middle of their empty, new house. It was theirs and it was perfect: it had a picket-fence and a backyard and a nook in the kitchen. Every time Sam walked through the halls, he felt like things made sense. He felt like he could ride any wave.

But before it became their home, it was a house and the newlyweds hadn’t quite furnished it yet. So they laid in the middle of what would become their bedroom on the ground and held hands, talking about the things that filtered through their thoughts. Some of things they already knew about one another— Sam had learned the hard way not to get in front of the coffee pot when Wes had his eyes set on it and that if he just gave the guy a burger every once in awhile, no one would die— and some of the things, like that Wes knew exactly what it felt like to be afraid of water on dry land, were new.

Wesley had told him how he used to wake up, choking on water. He’d never almost drowned like Sam had— it wasn’t a real body of water, but an entire hurricane of emotions and feelings and shit he’d never really dealt with properly that threatened to drown him.

Through the years together, Sam would hold Wes when he woke up like that. He would whisper in his ears, anything and nothing, just to remind him that he wasn’t underneath the waves. He would hold him hard and strong and be the life raft that Wes was too afraid to ask for.

They would heal through their love for each other and some proper professional help and not a little bit of faith in the world they were creating with one another.

Through the life they built with one another, both men learned what it felt like to be on dry land. Sam wasn’t afraid of the water any more; Wes wasn’t sinking in it.

They weren’t naive enough to pretend like their love had healed all. Sometimes, Wes would wake up with tears in his eyes about sisters who he’d never see; Sam could sometimes taste the blood he’d shed years ago.

But they would be okay. They’d be alright. They’d be safe and happy and loved and Sam knew that everyone had shit but not everyone had that.

Sometimes, it was hard to remember that he hadn’t always had that.

He loved his husband so goddamn much that he couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t, though his little brother and Wes’s best friend, Tommy, liked to remind them as often as he could that he was technically the reason they’d met in the first place.

He loved his husband so goddamn much that he had thought he’d never love anyone half as much.

Goddamn had he been wrong.

Sam looked at the tiny girl in his arms. She was swaddled in the softest yellow blanket he’d ever seen, wrapped all around her small body. Only her little face peeked out from the material; a button nose and pouty lips, his daughter was the smallest and cutest thing he’d ever seen.

His love for her cracked his chest open, laying him raw and vulnerable. He didn’t care.

“Oh my gosh,” his brother’s voice broke through the haze Sam was in. He didn’t look up, though. He was too afraid he’d miss something. “Can I hold her?”

“No,” Sam and Wes said in unison, their paired voices almost comical in their firmness.

Wesley sat next to Sam, one arm wrapped around his shoulder while his other was extended towards their daughter. He ran his thumb over her cheek and the baby nuzzled into it, yawning widely.

It was so cute that Sam almost died on the spot. He would’ve been happy to die if he could just see her do it again.

“Your brother,” Wes said in a soft, gentle tone, “has been hogging my daughter.”

“Our daughter,” Sam corrected just as quietly.

“She’s my daughter until I’m not mad at you for hogging her.”

“We agreed to do forty-five minute shifts. Not my fault you lost the coin toss.”

Wes finally looked away from the baby’s face for a second long enough to give Tommy an extended, exasperated look. “I can’t believe he started doing that with me, too. It’s unfair.”

“You’re just really bad at coin tosses,” Tom said, shrugging.

Sam would normally join in to tease his husband about how unlucky he was but their daughter opened her eyes and he became way too distracted to care about anyone else in the room.

She blinked at him.

Her eyes were a bright, bright hazel.

Sam almost cried.

“Look at her,” he whispered. “Look at her, Wes.”

“She’s perfect,” Wesley said. “She’s so perfect.”

“Her eyes—they’re just like your eyes. My Bright Eyes.” Sam could feel emotion choking him. He wanted Wes closer to him. He wanted to be hugging his husband and holding his daughter.

He had never felt so full in his whole life. He had never felt so grounded.

His whole life, Sam had been looking for a way to prove himself as a good man. He had been looking for a way to prove that he was worth something and that he had a purpose in life.

He couldn’t believe after so many decades of searching, he was staring into the eyes of his purpose.

He was made for loving her. His whole life had been building up towards this moment— the moment he met his daughter.

“I’m going to protect you,” he vowed. “I promise.”

Wes kissed his cheek before rubbing his thumb again on the baby’s cheek. “You should know, Little One, that your daddy never breaks his promises.”

An alarm went off, gentle but still startling. The baby started to cry and Sam lifted her gently, rocking her in the slowest way he could. “Oh, shh, shhh, it’s okay, baby.”

“No way,” Wes said, pulling back. “That alarm means it’s my turn. Come here, Little One.”

Begrudgingly, Sam shifted the baby over to his husband’s arms.

He settled back into his chair, holding her against his chest. “Hi, sweetheart. Wow, what a day, huh?”

Wes continued to murmur to the baby, sometimes sweet things and sometimes jokes that Sam knew was going to make sure that her teen years were hell for him.

He didn’t mind so much giving her to Wes, though, once he realized that not holding her meant that he got to watch Wes with her.

Sam felt like he’d been made to love and protect his daughter; he knew that Wes had been made for her, too.

Wes was going to be a natural with their daughter. He didn’t care if he messed up or there were rough patches because this was it—this was their happily ever after. Wes had been telling him all along that family was the most important thing in their lives. Sam had believed him and usually, he felt it too—like their wedding day or the first time they made love or the way it felt to hold his hand after family dinners, walking through the streets with his brother and sister-in-law.

But right here—seeing the two loves of his life intertwined with one another, it felt like something more than realization. It felt like fate clicking into place.

Their timeline used to feel messy. Sam used to feel bad about the time he’d spent running from his feelings and hiding behind a bravado he didn’t need to cling to. But now, he knew that their timing was actually perfect. They were meant to take their path slow and hard because if they hadn’t, they wouldn’t have been there right then. They wouldn’t have been the fathers to the best, most special little girl to ever be born.

“Have you guys decided on a name yet?”

Both Wes and Sam jumped a little; the husbands had forgotten that Tommy was even in the room.

Wes looked at Sam, smiling widely. He nodded his head, indicating that Sam should be the one to tell his brother what they would call their daughter.

“Ella Penelope,” Sam said, smiling down at his little Ella. “After Wes’s sisters.”

Tom repeated the name. “Ella Penelope Carlisle. That’s a good name.”

Wes grinned. “She thinks so, don’t you Ella?”

Sam leaned his head on Wes’s shoulder.

This family was the end all for him.

This family was his home.

* * *

Sam had no idea how quick time passed when you were a father.

One moment, he was sitting in the hospital, christening his daughter with her name for the first time. The next moment, he was fighting a migraine headache and begging a four year old to please do not eat that Popsicle you found in the sandbox!

“Ella!” Wes’s voice was sharp and commanding. Ella spun around in immediate deference to her father. He raised an eyebrow and held out his hand. Though she was glaring, Ella immediately sat the sweet treat into Wes’s hand and stomped away.

“Thank you,” Sam sighed, dropping his chin on the top of Wes’s head.

Wes rolled his eyes. “This is disgusting. She’s disgusting.”

“That’s our daughter.”

“I love her. She’s smart and clever and hilarious and I would die for her.” Wes said, looking fondly after her as she chased her cousins around the yard. “But she’s disgusting.”

The back screen door creaked open and his brother came out of the house carrying two large trays of food, followed by his very pregnant girlfriend.

From the time Wes and Sam had their first date, Tom and Sara had had two other kids, with their fourth now on the way.

Sam absolutely loved Ella. He was so glad there weren’t four of her.

“I blame Tommy,” Sam said loudly.

Tom’s head snapped up. “What did I do?”

“Had boys,” Wes explained, sitting down at the picnic table. Sam followed and sat next to him, reaching for one of the beers that Sara had brought out. “Now our daughter is gross.”

Sara laughed, hands resting on her very large belly. “Please. That little girl is constantly convincing John and Abram to follow her into the dirt. You’ve seen our house— it’s clean. Unlike somebody’s.”

“Rude.” Wes pointed a finger at her, though his lips were twitching in a smile and they all knew he didn’t actually take offense.

Sara had a good point. Ella constantly was tracking in dirt or following bugs for hours. They had just raised a kind of gross kid.

“Goddamn, I love her,” Sam said, shaking his head. He watched as Ella threw herself to the ground, frowning with her ear to the dirt. She squealed and sat up, screaming for her cousins to come over. She pulled out a fistful of worms from the dirt and held them up for the boys to inspect.

Sara sat their youngest, Jeremey, in the high chair by the table. He gargled a little at his mom until she put some Cheerios in front of him.

“Imagine when they’re all old enough to pull out worms,” Tom said, shaking his head in mock horror. “It’ll be a bloodbath.”

The parents all laughed.

Sara sat down carefully, grabbing Tom’s hand and holding it. She raised her eyebrows and looked between Sam and Wes. “Sooooooo,” she sang.

Wes gave her a dry look. “Yes?”

“I’m just wondering,” she said, still in a fake sweet tone, “how many more kids I’m going to push out before you realize you want another one?”

Sam burst into laughter. Wes rolled his eyes.

“Every time you have another kid and we see how tired you guys get, we become more and more convinced that we’re a three person family.”

Tom smacked the back of Sam’s head, who recoiled. “Hey! He said it!”

“Yeah but you’re the idiot,” Tom argued.

Sam looked at his husband. “See where your mouth gets us?”

Wes grinned and opened said mouth, a glint in his eyes. “Well—”

“Nope!” Sara said loudly, interrupting. “That’s clearly about to be a sex joke and I don’t want to hear it.”

Tom’s face curled in on itself, disgusted. “Gross.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Sam emphasized. Wes laughed.

“Daddy! Daddy! Papa!” Ella ran over to them. She sprinted across the yard and stopped so suddenly she nearly tipped forward. Wes shot his hand out and caught her before she fell headfirst into the picnic table. Ella giggled. “Thank you, Papa.”

“What’s up, Little One?” Wes ruffled her hair and she grinned up brightly at him, eyes squinting shut from the intensity of her smile.

Sam’s heart stuttered, skipping a beat. He was so fucking lucky.

“I found all these worms!” She squealed, holding out her fists. Inside of them were squiggling worms coated in dirt. Sam did his best not to let his face show how incredibly goddamn gross it was. “And John and Abram don’t want any!”

Ella looked at Tom and Sara, shaking her head sadly. “I don’t know why, I offered though, Uncle Tommy and Auntie Sara. I did, I promise!”

Sara’s lips were pressed into a thin line, assumedly to stop herself from laughing. “I believe you, sweetie.”

Ella nodded, satisfied. “And since Jeremy is too young for pet worms—” she shot Tom a look at this who nodded emphatically. “I get to keep them all!”

Wes looked over Ella’s head to Sam with wide eyes. As always, the hazel was lit up in the special way that stars were: from the inside, a burning lightness that couldn’t be measured by any other. “Well, Ella, why don’t you see what Daddy thinks?”

Oh, you little— Sam wiped the glare off his face when Ella spun around, her little face hopeful as hell.

Wanna play it that way? Sam thought at his husband. Fine.

“Sounds good, baby. Just make sure there’s enough dirt that they’re happy. Worms need a lot of dirt.”

Ella nodded as if it was sage advice. She thanked him in a quick, high-pitched voice before running back over to where she’d been digging.

“You’re going to regret that,” Wes said, shaking his head.

“Yes, most likely,” Sam agreed. “But I think that you’ll hate it more than I will.”

Wes rolled his eyes. He took the lid off his beer and took a long pull. “What a sweet husband.”

“You love me,” Sam teased.

Wes’s gaze softened. He put his arm around Sam’s shoulders, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Too true.”

“Ugh,” Tom said, groaning. “You two are sickening. Why did we ever approve of this?”

Sara shook her head. “We thought them happy would be less annoying than them brooding.”

“Oh, how wrong we were,” Tom joked.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Don’t make me make you,” Sam threatened but they both laughed, ruining the bit.

“Our boys,” Wes said to Sara, shaking his head.

Sara propped her head into her hands. “What buffoons the Carlisle men are.”

Sam rolled his eyes, leaning his head a little when Wes’s nails scraped over an itching part of Sam’s scalp. “You chose us, you know.”

“Yeah,” Tom agreed. “Don’t act like silent victims.”

Wes shrugged. “Didn’t expect you to be quite this annoying, though.”

“No fighting,” Johnny said, coming over and climbing up between Sam and Wes. “Can I sit here?”

“Of course, young sir,” Wes said, scooting over to accommodate his nephew.

Sam smiled at him. “Don’t you want to play?”

John’s eyes widened and he looked between his uncles. “Um— well, it’s just— Ella is making Abram all muddy so I’m hiding from her.”

“See!” Tom jumped, pointing a finger at them. “I told you— my kids like to be clean. Yours is the muddy one.”

Wes laughed. “Aw, it’s okay, John. I’ll protect you.”

John leaned into Wes’s side. “Thanks, Uncle Wes.”

Wes smiled softly down at him, squeezing John’s tiny shoulders.

Sam propped his chin on his fist, watching as Wes helped make John a plate, putting extra brownies on it despite Sara’s protest.

“I’m the cool uncle!” He protested when Tom tried to take one of the brownies off. “Stop it, stop! You’re ruining my street cred with the kid!” John laughed and tried to help his uncle fight off his dad.

Sam loved seeing Wes with Ella. It made his whole life click in a way nothing else ever had.

But seeing Wes with his brother’s family was an acutely special experience, too. He remembered that time long ago, when Sam had stormed over to Wesley’s little one bedroom apartment and told him that he needed to stop being pissed because he was a part of this family. That his place was already secured and already embedded into the fabric of their lives. Sam had believed that; known that Wesley’s importance extended beyond the love that Sam felt. He was meant to be Tom’s brother and John’s uncle and Sara’s best friend.

Wes was made to be a Carlisle and seeing him interact effortlessly with them made that feeling all the more strong.

“Stop staring at me,” Wes said from over John’s head. They had won the fight and John had taken his plate over to his brother to share the goods—Tom had helped Sara waddle over to Ella in order to give her retaliation cookies that Wes had said she didn’t need.

Sam scooted a little closer to his husband, glad to have a little moment alone.

“I love you,” Sam said. Wes’s eyes widened and Sam loved watching the way the hazel receded and dark pupil filled the color in. Wes’s eyes were always telling him what he was feeling, seconds before Wes had the opportunity to voice it himself. It was one of the million things he loved about him.

Wes put a hand over Sam’s, squeezing. “I love you, too.”

He would never get used to hearing that.

Said in the midst of a romantic evening or in bed or in the mornings before they ran off to work or over a plate of picnic food at his brother’s house—it didn’t matter. It floored Sam every time that a man as good and wonderful as Wesley could truly love him.

“We’re lucky,” Sam said, looking away from his husband to view the rest of their family. Ella munched on a cookie, offering a bite to Sara. Tom swooped in and took the bite instead, making Ella giggle uncontrollably.

Their family was perfect. And it was their’s— entirely. Wholly.

“I can’t believe it some days,” Wes admitted. Sam tore his attention off their daughter to look at him. He was watching the scene Sam had been mesmerized by. “I can’t believe we got this wonderful life despite being so goddamn stubborn.”

Sam laughed. Wes cocked his head, smiling at something he saw them do. Though years had passed since Sam had sat in that old blue truck with Wesley, some days it felt like no time at all had passed. Some days he felt like he was in his twenties and he could still see the way the freckles on Wes’s face were lit up by the Kansas sky.

Though age and the stress of being a father had added lines to Wes’s face, he still looked every bit like the smitten, drunk guy that had sat underneath the stars with Sam when he was on leave.

Their story was long and painful; it had taken them both years to realize that they needed to be okay with being themselves and that their love couldn’t make them imperfect people. But through it, they were able to realize that they didn’t need to be perfect. They just needed to try. They needed to be brave and loving and they needed each other.

Sam would spend the rest of his life thanking God that his brother hadn’t picked him up from the airport. He would thank God for sending him to the Navy and for getting him out of it. He would thank God for the answers he got and the questions that remained unanswered because through all of them, somehow, Sam had his family.

He watched Ella try to hide her yawn behind another cookie.

“Maybe Sara’s right,” Wes said, turning to look at Sam. Sam jolted out of his inner monologue and cocked his head questioningly at his husband. “Maybe we should— I don’t know, consider.”

“Consider?”

Wes bit his bottom lip, releasing it with a pop. “Consider making the family a little bigger.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “You want to have another baby?”

Wes’s cheeks blushed and he looked back at the scene in front of them. “Sometimes. I think we should talk about it.”

“Okay,” Sam said, faster than he expected.

Faster than Wes expected, too, apparently. His head whipped to Sam, eyes huge. “Really? No shit?”

Sam smiled. “Really. It’s—it’s worth discussing.”

“Yeah,” Wes said quickly. “Definitely worth at least a conversation.”

Sam put his arm around Wes’s shoulders. His husband leaned into the touch, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder. “Ella would be a great big sister.”

Sam hummed his agreement.

His family was perfect as it was. He had a man he loved and a daughter who was perfect and an extended family that would be there for all of them, no matter what. They had a house with a picket fence and jobs with steady income. They had a life that Sam had once thought would be too boring, too stagnant, for him to enjoy.

God, he’d been a dumb teenager.

He couldn’t imagine a life less boring or stagnant than the one he had.

Another baby. Wes wanted another baby.

Yeah, definitely not boring or stagnant. As if Wes was capable of being either of those things.

“We should probably get her before she eats everything,” Wes sighed. “She’s going to crash so hard from all this sugar.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s family day. She always crashes hard on family day even when Sara doesn’t bake.”

“Hey,” Wes said. “I thought you made these cookies.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I helped. You know Sara doesn’t let me do much, though.”

Wes pulled away and stretched. His own yawn slipped out before he could hide it.

Sam smiled. “Maybe it’s you we need to get home.”

Wes shrugged one shoulder sheepishly. “I’m not not tired.”

“Stubborn,” Sam muttered. He grinned though and Wes leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll go get Ella. Let’s get going?”

Sam nodded and went to say goodbye to his brother.

Their goodbyes only took a moment because both brothers were too busy wrangling their spouses and kids; it didn’t matter though.

Sam would see Tom soon, if not tomorrow. He was here and Tom was here.

Sam thought back to the time in the hospital, all those years before, when he promised Tom he’d stay in Poplar.

He couldn’t believe that a simple promise could create such a beautiful life. One of these days, he was really going to have to thank Tom for making him stay. He had been so close to not having any of this.

Loading his daughter and husband into the car, Sam shook his head. This was always going to happen, he thought. This is meant to be.

—

The lights in the house were off and when Sam opened the door, he did it slowly and carefully.

Up in her room, Ella was fast asleep. It had taken three stories and one concrete promise that she could have ice cream after lunch tomorrow, but Sam had finally gotten his daughter to go to bed.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want her around for this moment— it was just that, well, five year olds were kind of energetic. Sam and Wes had thought it would be best for a well-rested Ella to meet the newest addition to their family instead of a sleepy, cranky one.

When Sam finally got the door open wide enough, he nearly fell over.

Each time his family grew, Sam couldn’t believe it had once been any smaller. He felt it on his wedding day; he felt it on the day Ella was born; and he felt it now, watching Wes walk into their house holding their son.

“He’s here,” Sam crooned, reaching out. Wes grinned and silently handed the little bundle over.

He was wrapped in the same yellow blanket they had brought Ella home in; it was just as soft and small as Sam remembered.

Where Ella had been sleepy as a baby, it looked like their son was much more alert.

He blinked up at Sam, his face contorting. Sam knew he wasn’t smiling— infants couldn’t smile. But still— it kind of looked like he was smiling.

“My boy,” Sam murmured, lifting the baby up closer to his face. His eyes were baby blue and Sam wondered if they’d stay that way. Ella’s had been hazel from nearly the start.

“How’s Ella?” Wes had sat down the bags and taken off his coat, quietly shutting the door.

“Asleep,” Sam didn’t lift his eyes from the baby. “She gets ice cream after lunch tomorrow.’

Wes let out a quiet, breathy laugh. “Fair enough.”

“Jesus Christ, look how small he is. Ella was never that small.”

“She was, too,” Wes disagreed. He came over and snaked an arm around Sam’s waist, putting his head on Sam’s shoulder. “He’s actually bigger than Ella was.”

“Bullshit,” Sam said in a soft voice. “One hundred percent, I’m calling bullshit.”

Wes laughed again. He nudged Sam over to the couch, gently pushing down on him until Sam consented and sat on the couch. He shifted the baby and put him on his knees.

“I love him,” Sam said. “So much.”

“Me, too,” Wes said in a dreamy tone. “I love him.”

Sam felt like he was dreaming.

He felt like any minute, he’d wake up and be in his old barracks in the Navy. He’d wake up and Wes would've just been a guy he’d kissed and never called; his children would be figments of his imagination instead of the beautiful, perfect people he now knew.

For a moment, he was genuinely afraid of waking up.

Then the baby yawned, letting out a little soft sound, and Sam found himself washing up on shore. The ground was heavy beneath his feet and he was suddenly so, so aware that he was fine. He was on land. This was real and this was his and he couldn’t believe that life was so good.

“Edward Adam Carlisle,” Sam said to the baby, letting his son’s name roll of his tongue. Since Ella was named after Wes’s sisters, he insisted Sam pick their son’s name. He couldn’t stop himself from naming him after the two men that helped make sure Sam would get there.

“It’s beautiful,” Wes said, though they had agreed on the name weeks ago.

Sam smiled down at Edward. Gently, he kissed his son’s forehead.

“Welcome home.”