Christmas Presents

Christmas Presents DEc 24 2016.jpg

Christmas Presents

An Emery & Chris story

*a Chris Evans fan fic*

by avenger-nerd-mom

Chris and Emery have a little discussion about where to keep her Christmas presents in their new Boston home

Warnings: FLUFF

Word Count 1655

January 2019

Leaning in the door frame, arms crossed, he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from saying what he’s thinking.  Any little thing seems to set her off recently, and he’s too tired for another go.  It’s his own damn fault anyway, because he told her to choose any color she wanted.  And the smile on her face is so damn cute, he already knows she’s going to get her way.  Like she always does, and this time, he can’t hold back the laugh at his own thought.

“But kitten, it’s like, Army-khaki brown?  That’s not a color for a nursery; I mean if it’s a little girl don’t we want pink and-”

Emery spins on her heels and the light catches her hair just right, like a halo of flames around her head.  She squints her eyes at him, responding.  “Christopher Robert Evans, don’t you dare finish that sexist remark.” Teacher voice, he thinks, and not the sexy one…  And it’s not khaki, it’s called taupe, and I like it.  It goes perfect with my Christmas presents, perfect for the baby’s room!”

He coughs to bide his time and give her a moment to settle down.  He moves to her and bracing his hands on her forearms, he tugs them away from her rounded hips and pregnant belly and drops them to her sides for a less threatening pose.   “Don’t get defensive with me; I know what that color it’s called. I dated an interior designer, you know…” he winks at her playfully.

Sticking her tongue out at him, she chides him, poking him squarely in his solid chest.  “You don’t have to remind me; I know. You bring it up every time we redecorate, you ass,” she chuckles.  “Keep memories of your ex-girlfriends out of our baby’s bedroom, alright. Or that new accountant we need?  I know just the guy; he also just moved up here from-”

STOP.  Stop.  I can dish it out, but I can’t take it.  No more talk of exes, ever.  I promise.” He puts his hands up in defeat and holds his out for a pinkie swear.  He laughs when she links her tiny finger with his, tugging him to her lips for a quick, chaste kiss.  “But really, babe, this isn’t what I had in mind when I framed these and gave them to you.”

christmas presents.JPG

He stares up at the ‘vintage’ Captain America posters on the wall, in the style of old movie playbills.  When packing his old place in LA, he found lots of memorabilia he knew she would love and cherish, and he had framed these, thinking she would put them in the shared office in their new Boston home.  He never imagined she would plan the design of the baby’s nursery around them, picking out colors from the photos as accents.

“I know, but they’re just so beautiful.  I mean I guess we can move them to the office, or down in the den they’d look nice too.  But I just like the style,” she shrugs her shoulders.  “We don’t have to make a decision today, but-”

Chris sweeps his arm around the room, the cherry wood furniture, shiny and new.  His robust laugh echoes in the room.  “Babe, your ‘nesting’ kicked in.  Everything we picked out and ordered is already delivered and in place.  You’d really agree to changing the room?”  He smiles at the faint blush on her cheeks, drawing attention to her cute freckles.  Damn, she’s gonna get her way- but then the faint smell of fresh paint assaults his nose.  His tone changes. “Wait- who painted?  You aren’t supposed to be painting.”

She gets sheepish and moves to the dresser, folding some of the baby clothes already given to them.  She smiles at the collection of little clothing, many of onsies marked with shields and sayings like ‘My Daddy is a superhero!’

“Emery?  Dammit, please tell me you didn’t paint.  We talked about not doing stupid things while I’m away working.”  Now he’s the one standing in the center of the room, hands on his hips.  He feels the beginning of a headache.  They’d already had one little scare early on in the pregnancy and he was not willing to risk anything.  His tone drops, full of concern. “Babe, you know I can’t lose you; you have to be safe.”

Turning to him, she quietly calms him.  “Relax, babe.  I didn’t do anything.”  Her smile lights up the room when he moves closer and begins folding the the tiny clothes also.  They look so tiny in his strong, firm hands.  “Uncle Scott came and helped, and I haven’t stayed in the house.  I’ve slept at your mom’s.  I don’t wanna spend a night here until we can be in the house together.  He didn’t like the color either; he told me you’d hate it.  But he did have a suggestion if you absolutely hated it.”

“Yea, he’s dated  interior decorators too,” he pauses at her raucous laughter to his joke.  His eyes sweep over the shelves of Captain America bears he’s collected from fans over the years, and army toys from the forties, painted with shields.  Throwing his head back to look up at the ceiling briefly, he has to admit although it wasn’t where he pictured sitting and rocking their child to sleep, it was a beautifully done room.  “What? What’s his idea?”

Shrugging her shoulders, “It’s partly your fault, you know.  Every time I’ve tried to bring up the design, you say ‘after this’ or ‘after that.’”  She tugs his arm and pulls him over to sit on the plush couch under the window.  “I made it this far.  We’re good, honey.”  Placing their hands over her belly she smiles at Chris with his teary eyes.  “We’re gonna be okay.  I just know it.  You gotta start bonding.  You’re gonna be a dad, and meet THIS little one, even if I end up sitting on my ass for weeks…”  Chris wipes away a tear, fortified by his wife’s positivity. “I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl, and I still don’t wanna know, but I know one thing.  Little One is a fighter.  Just like both of us; strong and hard as nails.  And with a name like Grant Lang Evans?”

Her hopeful question hangs in the air…

“No.  No.  I give in to all your little whims.  Even getting In and Out burgers and shakes at three am when I’ve got jet lag coming back from Singapore.  But no,” laughing and shaking his head, “If it’s a boy, that is not his name.  Do you have any idea how ‘fangirl’ crazy that sounds?”

She giggles, leaning her head against his strong bicep, tracing her fingers over his newest tat under the old ‘Loyalty’ one.  “I do like this tat,” she tells him.  “I wasn’t sure at first…but it’s growing on me…  Jelly bean, it’s tradition in my family for the oldest daughter  to use the middle names of both her grandfathers for the firstborn son.  I can’t help those names also happen to be tied to two of my favorite characters.” She giggles and rolls her eyes.  “But honey, Relax.  It’s not gonna be a boy.  I just feel it.”

Kissing the top of her head, he contentedly sighs.  “Well, then, I guess we better narrow down a girl’s name then, ‘cause you’re always right.”

“Yup!” she giggles, “And life would be so much easier if you would always remember that!”

Her sweet lilt is music to his years and he laughs, jostling her by his side.  “I’ll try to remember that, if you promise me one thing, kitten.”

Stifling a yawn, she giggles, “I don’t promise you anything in advance.  That gets me in trouble every time…”  She pauses at the memory of such a moment, which resulted in their pregnancy.  “What?  What are you trying to sneak?”  Her fingers brush down his arm taking his large hand in hers, brushing her thumb against the padded muscle in his palm.

“Promise me you’ll never lose that sweet Southern accent, no matter how long we live here in ‘yankee territory.’  And stop calling it that, too,” he chuckles.  Tickled by her touch, he gently extracts her hand from hers, moving to tuck his arm around her and pulling the blanket from the back of the couch to wrap her up.  “Nap time?”

“Uh, uh. Once a Southern belle, always a Southern belle…” She yawns, unable to avoid it this time.  “Will you stay here with me?”

“Of course, baby.  Always by your side… Till the end of the line,” he adds, needing a nap himself.

Moments pass in a companionable silence, before he whispers, “Emery? Are you still awake?”

“Hmm?” she hums, the sound of happiness evident in even the simplest noise.

“I still don’t know about the color and posters, but what was Scott’s idea?” His warm breath blows against the wispy curls on her forehead.

She giggles.  “With the brown, he thought giraffes or monkeys?  He doesn’t want to have to paint again.  And he was really glad the furniture was already built.  He had visions of sitting for hours and trying to put it together.  He’s so excited for another little one to love and he-.”

“Yea, we’re not naming the baby Scott either.  He can keep dreaming.”  Chris sighs, resting his head against hers.  “I’m sorry I haven’t been here.  Just three more weeks, babe, and this job’s a wrap…  But it’s good Scott is around when I’m not and it’s-”

“Honey, honey.  Shhh.  I’m really tired.  Can you just ‘Shhh?”

“Whatever you say, boss,” he whispers against her head.  “Tell Scott he won’t have to paint. The bears? The shields?  They look great.”  But he knows before he even finishes his last words that she is sound asleep against his side, her pregnancy zapping her more than they had anticipated.

Click here to read Surprises Ahead

To get to know Emery and Chris better, check out their novella, Georgia on My Mind, that introduces them as a couple, and their collection of short stories.

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Christmas Adventures: Nice

Click here for the Opening of the story

An hour and a half later, tired and exhausted from work, she trudges up the stairs with the bags of groceries to her tiny apartment, admiring the wreath on her door.  She pauses momentarily before inserting the key into the lock, smiling to herself.  Entering directly into the living room, she can hear the sounds from the kitchen.  The wonderful smell fills her nose and walking past the beautifully set table she grabs a sugar cookie with a chocolate kiss in the center and pops it into her mouth.

Leaning against the door frame she watches her man at the stove.  He fluidly moves, shifting his weight from side to side as he reaches to the shelf of spices, adding something to the steaming pot.  He hums along quietly to the Christmas music on the radio and she sees the muscles tense in his back when he realizes she’s there.  He relaxes, resting the spoon on the edge of the pan; the smell of the bubbling sauce makes her stomach growl.  Wiping his hands on the Christmas towel, he turns to her with a smile.

“So, do all your friends think I’m a douche?”  Chris laughs as she steps into his open arms.

She shakes her head, laughing at him.  “No, not all of them.  Nancy thinks you’re a dick, hiding a secret family in New Jersey or something.”

“Oh, that’s great. Just great.”  He kisses the tip of her rosy red nose, cold from the winter night.  “We agree to keep things private, because you don’t want to be in the press, and I’m totally fine with that, but now all your friends think your boyfriend is an ass, and they probably secretly talk about you behind your back, wondering if it’s time to stage an intervention.”

“Well, they might want to after today’s performance when they find out you’re my secret boyfriend!  That didn’t help your cause any… What was that about?”

Chuckling, grabbing her ass, he says, “What?  You didn’t like my naughty Santa?”

“You were such an ass…,” she giggles when he jumps at her cold hands tucked inside his shirt collar.

“I couldn’t help it.  Once you walked into the kids’ game room, I wanted to get your attention.  I really thought you knew it was me, but you were so focused on the kids…  It was amazing to see you work, babe.  And then I figured you didn’t want Chani to know we knew each other so I kept up the act, you just followed my lead.”  He shrugs his shoulders.

“Like always.” Laughing, Janelle runs her hands over his jaw, scratching at his beard.  “I really had no idea it was you; I couldn’t figure out how Santa knew the kids’ names?  Cuz I talk about them all the time, right?” She smiles, when he nods his head.  “I felt like such an idiot when you came in the work room.  I don’t expect to see my superhero boyfriend at my place of work, but I’m so glad that-”

Chris places his hands on her face, delicately holding her while he tries to quiet her chatter.  He leans in for a kiss, slow and gentle at first, caressing her lips, reuniting his mouth to hers.  “Stop talking,” he whispers in puffs of air against her mouth, charging in with more kisses, each one with more urgency than the one before beginning to warm her up.

She can taste the chocolate on his lips.  “How many of those cookies did you eat?” she giggles, tugging at his bottom lip with her teeth as they kiss.

“They’re my favorite.  I think I’ve had about five.  We’ve got to get rid of them,” he chuckles.

“I’m sure your kids in New Jersey will like them,” she teases poking him in the ribs. His laughter fills the room.

As her hands run down his tight chest to the waist of his pants, settling on his hips, his hands unbutton the front of her heavy wool coat.  Reaching inside he places his warm hands on her breasts, cupping her and giving a needing squeeze.  “You feel so good,” he whispers.  “I missed you too!  I wanted to surprise you at work.”

He slides the coat down her shoulders and it drops to the floor as their mouths continue to comfort each other and get reacquainted. His hands grasp her forearms, lifting her up on her toes. She runs her tongue against his pouty bottom lip and feels him shiver at the contact. His kisses make her ready for more.

“I love the feel of your lips on mine,” he says quietly, his nose brushing against hers, still red and cold from the Boston winter air, pushing her against the counter. Turning the heat down on the stove, he slides the pot off the burner.  Sliding his lips across her jaw, he captures her tiny earlobe between his lips, taking a quick nip.  “You need to warm up.  I’m stuffed on cookies; can we eat later?”

Tilting her head back, Janelle opens her neck up for his sweet caresses, enjoying his affections.  Chris glides his lips along her neck, pulling back on the collar of her shirt.  “Mmm… I love when you smell like the hospital,” he chuckles, biting and kissing at the crook of her neck.  “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Bending to wrap his arms behind her knees, he lifts her over his shoulder and slaps her ass.  She reaches for a piece of the toasted garlic bread on the counter and takes a quick bite.  Walking towards the hallway, he pauses next to the table and blows out the candles.  “No,” Janelle laughs, reading his mind.  “It’s already set nicely; and I could use a shower after work.”

He starts moving down the hall again, turning to enter the bathroom carefully without banging her into the door and sets her gently down on the edge of the tub.  He starts the water for her, turning it up high, just like she likes.  He kisses the top of her head, handing her a towel and rising to exit the room.  She blows him a kiss, and he pauses at the door.  “I could put the Santa suit back on?  It’s in the car.”

Untangling herself from her scrub top, she pulls it over her head and stands before him in her boring work bra.  She drops it to the floor laughing at him.  “Sorry, babe. No Christmas kink here.”

Chris leans his head against the door, smiling at her.  “So you don’t want me to tie you up with the Christmas lights I got?”

He chuckles at the candy cane panties she’s wearing when she stands up straight from removing her work pants.  “‘Santa: I can explain.’”  He reads aloud.  “That’s not kink at all,” he laughs.

Janelle bends over in laughter, grasping her sides.  “Chani got them for me; I think they’re funny.  No I don’t have Christmas kink.  I was kidding all week about the Christmas lights, honey.”

Chris laughs at the somewhat shocked look on her face.  “Hell, I wasn’t.  I went to all the trouble of driving around when I wasn’t working to find the little ones that wouldn’t burn you.”  Watching with a grin, he admires as she removes her clothes for the shower, catching her bra when she tosses it in his face.

Pulling her hair loose from her braid and stepping naked into the shower, she laughs, “You’re a sick weirdo sometimes, you know that?”

A gut busting laugh echoes through the room.  “But I’m yours and you love it. Lights?”

“Lights,” she agrees as she pulls the curtain closed, her laughter echoing against the tiles as he closes the door to the room.


Hours later, Chris wipes the spaghetti sauce from her chin, playfully teasing her about her ravenous hungers.  “You really should eat more than lettuce and wraps and fast food when I’m gone, baby girl.  You gotta keep your energy up for when I’m home.”  Winking at her the implied energy he’s talking about, he uses the garlic bread to wipe up the last drops of sauce on his plate and savors the rich flavor as he chews slowly.  “Carbs.  Damn I miss carbs,” he chuckles.

Admiring his washboard abs, she laughs, “Oh, honey but you look so fucking good when you stay away from them.  It’s not fair.  I eat right.  I work out all the time.  You give up carbs for three weeks and look like a god.  Besides, you’re a better cook than I.  Why should I bother?  I’ll just freeze the leftovers and I’ll have food for awhile when you’re gone.  I’ll miss you, but some of your Italian lovin’ will still be right here with me.”

She giggles when he tosses his napkin at her playfully, and points to her plate.  She nods that she’s finished and he leans over, setting the two plates on the floor beside the bed.  “Don’t you think you need to learn to cook?” he asks quietly rising up on his knees and crawling to her.  “Who’s gonna cook for our kids when I’m away working?”

“Kids? Christopher, don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself?  There are no kids till there is a wedding, there is no wedding till there is a ring and you know we said-”

His lips reach hers in time to shut her up.  “You talk too much, sassy girl,” he chuckles quietly, wrapping his hands in her hair, tilting her laughing face to his.  “What do I need to do to shut you up?”

“Impossible,” she laughs as she raises up on her knees as well, their kisses crashing against one another.  She tugs on the back of his hair, starting to grow back out, glad it will be longer by the time they take their Disney cruise at the end of January. That should have been her clue about Santa’s true identity at the hospital, but she was still in work mode at the time and was focused on her job.  “So, uh, where are those lights?  Maybe I should tie you up instead…” she taunts as she pushes him over backwards on the bed, landing solidly on top of him.

His leg rises up, creating a space for her to nestle her legs between his.  Wrapping his leg over the back of hers, he holds her tight to him.  “Oh, really?  That could be fun. Later… Ladies first.” His eyes gleam in the lights of the tree in the corner of their room. Kissing again, he pulls her hair, grabbing her closer to him as his mouth becomes more aggressive.  He begins to rock under her, moving and rolling her, his cock stiffening for round two.  She’s already slippery against him, her unfinished needs waiting to be cared for this time around.

“They’re in the gift bag beside the bed,” he tells her.  Chris rocks her forward just a bit more and she reaches out with her hand to pick up the little red bag covered in snowflakes.

Lifting the bag over the edge of the bed she sits up, moving to straddle him, teasing her waiting cunt against his hard cock.  He raises his head and pulls a pillow to him, bunching it up and resting back, smiling as she traces her finger over one of the glittered snowflakes.  Her hesitancy shows when she bites her lip nervously.  “Baby girl, it’s just some Christmas lights.  We can always try it another time; I don’t wanna do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

Rocking forward again, she grinds herself against him, giggling softly.  “Oh, no, honey, it’s not that… I want to, believe me, I want to… I’m just trying to figure out the best way to do it.”

He laughs, his arms dropping back against the bed as he bucks her up again, his eyes watching closely as she peers into the bag, looking for the end of the strand.  “Where’s the light switch?” She asks pulling at the string of lights.

“In the box; pull carefully and the cord shouldn’t tangle,” he advises, his smile growing.

Continuing to pull the lights out, she rests them delicately on the bed next to his outstretched leg.  She pauses, reaching the box at the bottom of the bag.  Flipping the switch, the lights don’t come on.  Cocking her head at him, she asks, “You didn’t test they work?  And really.  How are you gonna wrap me with these?”

“Of course I tested to see if they work; I’m not an idiot,” he laughs.  “Check the batteries didn’t get knocked loose.”

Opening the box, her jaw slowly drops, her hands beginning to shake.  He takes the battery box from her, grinning at the tears forming in her eyes.  Shaking the sparkling diamond ring from the box into his hand, he sets the box on the bed and pushes himself to a seated position.  Taking her left hand in his, he chokes back his own tears. “I think from this point forward, we do everything together.”

Salty tears of joy roll down her cheeks. “You’re proposing while we’re naked, you ass.” She whispers and laughs, wiping away her tears with her other hand. “It’s so us.”

He leans into her caress as she sweeps the tears from his face as well, chuckling.  Moving to slide the ring onto her slender finger, he continues his declaration of forever.  “You are my light, and cheer me up when I’m at my lowest.”  Chris pushes the ring into place, raising her hand to his lips, tenderly kissing the back of her hand.  “Honey, I wanna be tied to you forever, starting tonight with these Christmas lights.  Whatdya say, baby girl?”

Through tears and laughter, Janelle nods her head, whispering ‘yes’ again and again.

The couple sit together, kissing and caressing with tenderness and love as the heat rebuilds from before.  Chris extracts batteries he’d hidden in his pillow case and the lights quickly glow to life.  Holding her hand in his, he wraps the lights around their wrists, binding them together.

“Hey,” she giggles.  “Did you write that down first, or was it off the top of your head?”

He laughs loudly and raucously, the sound vibrating against her body and jostling her to a different sitting position, his cock right at the entrance to her sweet hole.  With his free hand, he lifts under her ass and moves her towards him, gliding her onto his rod, willing and waiting.  Her wet welcomes him in and she breathes a sigh of relief as she whispers ‘yes’ one more time.  He shifts again, cradling her in his lap and she folds her legs tightly behind him. Taking the string of lights she wraps them around his back, leaning to the Tolle quote tat and lapping it with her tongue as she rocks against him, sliding him deeper into her sweet hole.

“Fuck, I missed this.  I miss us,” he sighs, leaning his head back as he enjoys the attention she gives along his collarbone, a shiver down his spine when she runs her tongue up the pulsing vein, landing to kiss and nibble at his ear.  Commandeering the sparkling white lights, he takes them from her, and laces them across her back, winding them down her arm as well.

“That tickles,” she giggles at the delicate touch of his fingertips, ensuring the bulbs are not too hot against her skin.  Yet his thrusts in and out of her plush inner walls become more forceful, claiming what is his.

He raises his legs, planting his feet firmly on the bed, changing the angle he pistons into her, bouncing her full breasts against his chest. He strings the lights over and around his leg before dropping the pile of glowing white bulbs on the bed next to them.  Grasping her rib cage on either side he forces her back and extracts himself from deep inside. She whines her dislike of the situation but playfully laughs when he propels her onto her back on the oversized bed, landing on top of her since they are loosely tied together by the Christmas lights. “That’s better,” she praises, opening her legs for him.

Resting up on his knees, holding his weight off her, he grips their tied hands above her head. “Can’t escape now,” he growls, his breath hot against her neck as his lips graze over her skin, finally stopping to capture one of her taut peaks between his plump lips.

“Don’t want to,” she replies bucking her mound against his pelvis, needing his sex back inside her. She moans in frustration, the sound low and animalistic in the room.  His mouth wrecks havoc on her nerve endings and quiet whimpers escape from her lips. “Please, Christopher, baby… oh,” she pauses as her breathing heightens, her body reacting beyond her control as he moves from one sweet nipple, sliding his nose down the valley between her breasts and circling his tongue around the other. “Baby, I need you. I need you to fuck me. Please. Don’t make me wait any more.”

He hums against her breast, his tongue flickering against the tight pink bud, ignoring her request. Her free hand clenches his hair and she tries to raise him up as she bucks against him, her dripping wet need escaping between her legs.  She longs to be connected to him, to stretch for him and to let him fill her in every way possible. The light cord dangling at her side catches her attention and she gives it a harsh tug, collapsing him to her with an exhaled “oomph.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles. “Did you need something?” he gladly asks, taking the cord from her, as she places her leg in the crook of his elbow, smiling when he tangles the strand around her thigh. He tosses the cord to the other side of the bed before driving his pulsing cock into his favorite Christmas present.

His force crushes the air from her body and she struggles to right her breathing. “I need you,” she chants between belaboured breaths.  “God, yes, harder,” she encourages him as he drives her into the bed..

The tangled lights limit the range of movement, but she opens her legs wider, allowing him to sink closer to her.  The wiring around his leg shifts, creating additional friction against her swollen outer lips, an unfamiliar sensation as her crest builds.  With her free hand she pulls the light strand, adding to the tension.

He can feel the change as her walls begin to tighten, each plunge deeper in and she constricts around him as he pulls out, teasing her rim and brushing against her taint with the velvety head of his cock.. She’s yanking the light strand tight enough to dig into his skin. Tilting his head up he locks his dark eyes on her face. Her eyes are closed, her dark lashes against her flushed freckled skin. Her beauty calms and excites him at the same time. A few more intrusions into her luscious center and he senses she is right on the edge of tipping over. “Baby girl, look at me.” Fluttering open, her eyes flash dark. “Beautiful baby girl; all mine. Let go, let go.”

At his command, she squeezes around his shaft, dragging him to the brink. The orgasm rolls through her body and as she comes she cries his name quietly, whispering words of love.  Her body shudders against him and her grip on the light cord loosens.

He continues his rhythm as she mewls and settles, keeping her legs open for him.  Hitting against her inner walls, he tightens, feeling his quake rise up from his toes.  Squeezing her hand tightly that is tied to his he whispers, “I’m yours,” as he spills his love into her.


Hours later, the lights lay tangled at their feet, her cat batting at the cord hanging over the edge of the bed.  She asks with true concern in her voice.  “What the hell are we gonna tell people when they ask us our engagement story?”

Click here for the “Naughty” ending to the story

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Christmas Adventures: Naughty

Click here for the Opening of the story

Two hours later, she picks her little black bag off the side table, the cat jumping up at the sound of jingling keys.  Fuck this.  I’m going out.  Checking her phone again, she grabs her coat and scarf, and heads down to the lobby to wait for her Uber ride, ready to follow the directions Chani shared with the girls at work earlier in the week.


Greeted at the door of the home lavishly decorated for the holidays, Janelle has no idea where exactly she is, but passes over her coat and takes the ticket claim number she is handed.  Wandering through the holiday revelry, she calls out hello to friends from work, although confused by who all the other people might be.  The house is packed. She makes small talk with friends as she moves through the house, looking for Chani.  Walking into the kitchen, she smiles at the sight of Chani and Chris dancing around the room, manning the blender and mixing drinks.  Stepping up behind the handsome actor, she places her hand on his hip, reaching around him for his glass of Scotch, knocking it back swiftly.  He grabs her wrist, face unseen, turning and pausing when he sees who it is.

“Didn’t expect to see you here!” He shouts over the music, smiling at Chani’s bouncing excitement with the arrival of her friend.  Calling out to the man on the other side of the counter, he yells, “Scott, man!  Turn it down; we’re talking here.”

Scott, whoever he is, looks her up and down, and she puts a hand on her hip defiantly.  She doesn’t need some pretty boy checking her out.  She knows she looks good dressed in all black, jeans and v-neck sweater.  “Nice boots,” he compliments, giving a thumbs up appraisal before reaching over to quiet the music.

Turning her head to Chani, she smiles questioningly, ignoring the heat of Chris’s stare, his eyes obviously curving over her sculpted ass in the designer jeans she had to have last pay day.

“Don’t mind him.  He’s gay- and Chris’s brother.  He likes to critique our clothes. You look fuckin’ hot, baby girl,” she mocks her worship, raising and lowering her arms.  She nods at Chris as he takes the empty glass from Janelle and refills it, handing it back to her.  “What about the boyfriend?” she asks.

Swirling the amber liquid around in her glass, she watches as Chris steps aside for Scott to take over blender duties and moving closer to her. The Santa hat cocked on the side of his head makes her giggle and shake her head.  She takes another long draw from the small tumbler.  Pursing her lips and biting the inside of her cheek, she sighs, “Well, seems he forgot a few weeks back he had a girlfriend.”  Dropping her voice, she looks away from Chani, not wanting to see her look of sympathy.  “I ah… I just wanted to get through the holidays before I started telling people.”

She finishes the rest of the drink, resting the glass on the counter.  “Food, I need food.  All I’ve eaten today were cookies at the hospital.”

“Oh, my god, baby, let us get you something.  That asshole cheated on you?” Chani questions.  “Where is he? I wanna kick his damn head in.”  She guides Janelle into another room, two large tables covered with food.  “Plate?” she demands of Chris, working like a team, friends who’ve known each other well for a long time.  Accepting the plate, she begins to fill it full of real food for her friend.  “I’m sorry you didn’t tell me; I didn’t know.  I wouldn’t have teased you.”

“Honey, it’s okay.  You had no idea.  I didn’t want to bring anyone down.  He was an ass, you were right… I didn’t need to hear ‘I told you so.’” Pointing at the cheeseball and crackers, she motions for Chani to add more to the plate.  Looking around the array of food, the room decorated for the holidays, she pulls herself back into the moment.  “Where the fuck are we anyway?” she laughs.

“Belongs to a millionaire, playboy, philanthropist…” Chris shares modestly, shrugging his shoulders.  “I’m not just a dick that plays Santa for sick kids.”

Rubbing her forehead in embarrassment, “I’m a bitch.  I shouldn’t have said those things today.  What you do for those kids at the hospital, for us nurses?  It’s really amazing.  I’m sorry; it was out of line.”

“No harm done.  I like feisty women,” he chuckles, smacking her on the ass, preparing to walk away.  “And I am kind of a dick.  See ya around, Disney.”

Mouth agape, Janelle watches with confusion as he walks away, his jeans hung low on his hips, the fabric tight on his ass as he moves.  “Chani, what the hell just happened?” she asks, welcoming the plate of food into her outstretched hands and picking up a chilled water bottle.

Chani leads her dark haired friend to a quiet alcove down the hallway.  Resting in the window seat, Chani kicks off her shoes, tucking her feet under when she sits.  “He’s not a bad guy, Janelle.  You just announced your so-called ‘boyfriend’ cheated on you.  He’s giving you space; but he was disappointed after meeting you at the hospital that you didn’t plan to come-” she bursts into laughter and Janelle giggles with her, trying not to choke on her food.  Rocking with laughter, Chani can’t catch her breath, and Janelle just shakes her head.  Waving her hands at her face, Chani calms herself.  “Oh, girl!  That was too funny.  Bad choice of words; I should say he was disappointed you didn’t plan to attend the party… But ya know, he’d also be disappointed if you didn’t come…”

“Chani!  Shush!” Janelle admonishes.  “People will hear you,” she giggles.  “Oh my god though, I so need to get laid.  That’s my Christmas wish.”

The girls high-five and collapse into another fit of giggles.  Their easy camaraderie attracts other friends to them and before long the little quiet alcove has turned into its’ own private party.  One of the girls turns up the playlist on her phone and beers are passed among the friends.  Janelle passes on the drinks, losing herself in the music, dancing from song to song.

Arms raised, snapping to the beat, she dances among her friends, remembering the fun she used to have with them on Friday nights.  Like the Grinch, she feels her heart grow surrounded by their love and support, but it’s the firm hand on her hip that adds a warmth to her she hasn’t truly felt in ages.  Without even looking she knows it’s Chris.  She moves into him with the beat of the music and his strong arms wrap around her waist, pulling her close to him.

Her back melts against his solid chest and she sways a bit more to the music, brushing her ass against his groin, bumping against him with each rhythm change.  His hands roam across her stomach, the soft sweater caressing her skin and awakening inner desires she’s tamped down in an effort to get through the holidays alone.  His breath is hot against her neck as he nuzzles his nose in her hair.  His hands dig into her flesh, pulling up on her sweater, trying to find her skin.  The crowd swells around them and his bold advances are unseen to observers.  His deft fingers skim the soft plane of her belly, tugging at the snap of her jeans, popping it open and grazing his fingertips along the band of her jeans.  Her skin is on fire with his touch and her heart races. Sighing contentedly, she lowers her arm around the back of his neck and grasps the wisps of hair on the nape of his neck.

As the song changes, she spins in his arms, turning to face him and reconnecting their bodies as soon as possible.  “Nice package you got there, Santa,” she teases, looking up into his bright blue eyes, sparkling in the glow of the Christmas lights in the window.

He chuckles, sliding his hands down to cup under her ass cheeks, rising her up on her tiptoes to fit better against his stiffening cock.  “Christmas kink?  Nice.  I can do that…” he purrs.  “What do you want for Christmas, baby girl?”

On her tiptoes, she whispers in his ear, puffs of warm air against his neck, delighting in the slight shiver she feels run through his body at her deliciously sinful wish.  Balancing herself with her hands on his rock hard chest, she turns her head slightly to the left, her lips landing against the soft spot below his ear.  Her mouth slightly open, she quickly flicks her tongue against his warm skin as his grasp tugs upwards on her ass again, his cock harder than before.

Dropping to her flat feet she pulls back and winks at him, surprised to see a small blush of pink to his cheeks.  He blinks quickly, his dark lashes against his pale skin, looking around to see if anyone is watching them.  “Chani was right.  We’ll get along famously,” he laughs, taking her hand in his and leading her through the crowd.


The upstairs of the house is quiet, thanks to friends of his sitting at the top of the steps, keeping people away.  Janelle can’t help but notice one of the guys giving Chris a ‘thumbs up’ as they walk by.  Silently she hopes to herself this isn’t a normal situation, but he’s so Hollywood, how would she know.  She’s a little shocked by her own brazen behavior, but when would she ever get a chance like this again.  Her hand is comfortable in his and his thumb strokes gently over the back of her hand.  Occasionally he looks at her sideways and offers her a smile, putting her at ease. She catches glimpses of his personality as they walk down the hallway, gym shoes on the floor, a ballcap and glasses on a side table, photos of tourist destinations and family line the walls.

Pausing at a doorway, Chris opens the door and swings his arm to invite her in.  “You go first, Disney.”

She giggles at the nickname, brushing past him purposefully as she steps inside.  A Christmas tree takes up a large corner of the room, lighting the dark space and she stops just inside the doorway, not really sure what to do next.  What the fuck am I thinking? She asks herself, her mind swirling.

His hands come to her hip and he moves her to the side, closing the door before stepping in front of her, sliding his hands around to still rest on her hips.

Taking a deep breath, she moves three steps back against the door and he steps with her, drawn like a magnet to her dark eyes gleaming in the Christmas light. Reaching behind her, she turns the lock, a wicked smile forming at the tiny click, keeping the rest of the world out. The pretty nurse leans forward into his space, liking his cocky smile and licking her lips at the last second before kissing him, momentarily drawing his eyes to their glistening wet.

His eyes dart back up to hers  Not wanting to play her game, he tugs her belt loop forcing her  closer to him as his lips land on hers aggressively.   Brushing his beard against her skin, he kisses her roughly, his tongue teasing against her ripe lips. She doesn’t wait long before opening to him and kissing just as fiercely, biting and pulling at his swollen bottom lip in the process.  At the power of her mouth, a soft moan escapes his lips and her own sound mimics his in the quiet room.

Breaking contact, Chris sinks to his knees, gliding his hands down her tight denim clad thighs, smiling up at her from below.  Her head lowers as she looks down on him with a thoughtfully . curious grin.  At the back of her calf, he slowly unzips the heeled boot and pulls it off as she balances against the door.  His hungry look adds to her fueled desires and she can feel her panties get wet, shifting to rub them between her lower lips when he sets her foot to the ground, removing the other boot.

Tossing them both aside, his hands slide back up, creating a  tickle behind her knees, but she holds in her laughter.  This is hunger. This is power. This is different from anything she’s ever done before.  His hands reach up under the hem of her sweater, dipping his thumbs in the waist of her jeans and pulling them slowly down her legs.  He’s gonna draw this out… His breath is warm against her exposed flesh and goosebumps break across her pale skin.  Aiding in helping her to step out of them, he looks up again at the dark haired beauty in her black fuzzy sweater and red lace panties.  “Damn, that’s a beautiful Christmas picture… Red lace, how festive,” he teases.

Rising up on his knees, he reaches around to her hands still resting on the doorknob.  He holds them tightly behind her back, both her small hands in one of his.  She recognizes her smell of sex in the air at the same time he does and his eyes grow dark.  Angling towards the prize, Chris brushes the tip of his nose against the evident wet spot, inhaling deeper.  “You smell delicious and already so wet for me…”

Tilting his head to to the side, he presses his lips to her covered mound.  Boldly, he parts his lips and laps his tongue up and down the saturated silk.  Impulsively he stiffens his tongue and pushes the damp fabric between her folds, intruding against her sensitive clit.  With a sharp gasp, he feels her knees give way so he supports her with his other hand as she falls forward.  Letting her hands free, he smiles when she braces herself on his shoulders.  His hand now freed as well, he slips his fingers under the lace trim, pushing it aside and sliding his tongue through her wet slit.  “Sweet Jesus, yes,” she whispers, digging her nails into his shoulders.

Encouraged by her enthusiastic praise, he continues to lap at her pink walls, her sweet juice dripping to his beard.  From her position she rocks against him, using his tongue to fuck her, listening to her moans rise and fall.  Her sounds of delight change, becoming more high-pitched but still not loud enough to be heard by party-goers downstairs, when he surprises her by plunging two fingers inside her wet cavern.  His thick fingers penetrate deeply, working in tandem with his mouth.  When her pussy begins to pulse, grasping around him, he pulls away from her, not knowing her limitations. Lifting his shirt to wipe the sweet mess from his face, he licks his lips and raising his eyes to hers.  “You taste as good as you smell… You good?” he asks kindly, his own need echoed in his voice.

“Uh, huh,” she replies still weak against him.  “You’re not done; you didn’t finish me… I need more.”

Tugging on the shoulder seams of his shirt, she pulls it over his head as he rises to a standing position, pulling her sweater off her at the same time.  He wraps his arms around her full waist, lifting her off her feet and bringing her up to his eye level, placing his lips on her mouth, his tongue teasing her lower lip.  She stifles a moan, pulling back and wiping her own wet he shared with her from the corner of her mouth.  Wrapping her legs around his waist she begs, “Take me to the bed.”

“I’m all for granting Christmas wishes,” he replies with a devilish grin, turning on his heels and dropping her at the foot of the bed with a bounce.  Kicking off his shoes one at a time, he watches her eyes sweep over his solid chest, taking in his tattoos while he unbuckles his pants.  Shimmying out of them, he reveals maroon colored Calvins straining over his hard bulging cock.  He chuckles when she crab crawls backward on the bed and he chases after her.  Grabbing her ankle, he yanks her down the bed, climbing over top of her.  “Whatdya say I unwrap the rest of my Christmas present?” he challenges.

Still panting with her unmet need she wraps her leg around his thigh and sliding her silky smooth leg up and down his she purrs, “You can open your presents now… I think you’ve been a very good boy.”

Click here for “Nice” ending of the story

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

Christmas Adventures: Naughty or Nice?

Christmas Adventures.jpg

*a Chris Evans fan fic*

By avenger-nerd-mom

Actor Chris Evans spreads holiday cheer

Warnings: NSFW, language, fingering, oral sex, penetration

This is written as a “choose your own adventure” type story.  The opening to the story is the same for both pieces, but when I reached one point in the story, I saw two possible endings.  And since I couldn’t decide which to use, I wrote both.

Opening Word count: 1859

“Hey pretty girl, wanna sit on Santa’s lap?”

The voice calls out over the din of the room.  The hospital Christmas party.  The little boy balanced on her hip has finally stopped crying, so she sets him down, balancing him on his feet before he toddles away, gripping his candy cane.  Her hands are sticky. Her feet are tired.  She doesn’t want to seem like a grinch, but the days before Christmas in a child’s sick ward are difficult days.  She does not need this crap.  She looks at her watch, seeing she’s well over her step count for the day, and realizing it’s only about twenty minutes before she can clock out.

“Are you on the naughty or nice list?” his voice calls out to her again.

Damn. Where did they hire this creep from?  Another child walks past him, smiling and thanking ‘Santa’ again for her new doll.  The nurse steps closer, but staying out of Santa’s grasp.  “Listen, here fat boy. I’m not interested. And if you-”

She shuts her mouth when she sees the head nurse giving her the evil eye.  “God, I hope you’ve just been creepy to the nurses and not the kids.”

In his incredibly ‘realistic’ costume, his belly laughs.  “I promise, I’m not a sick bastard.  I just have a thing for pretty nurses with dark hair.”

She rolls her eyes, moving to break up a fight between two little boys over a set of Legos.  Santa reaches in the big sack of toys and pulls out a matching set and offers it up to the older boy.  She begins to move away but pauses when the younger boy begins to complain that means the older boy got two presents from Santa.

She watches as Santa kneels down next to the boys and the littlest one, about five rests on his extended knee, pouting.  “Jonathan,” Santa says in a low authoritative voice.  How does he know his name? She wonders.  “Brandon has an older brother that always comes to visit.  What if we let Nurse Janelle keep the basketball here, so when Brandon’s brother visits, you can all play basketball together?”

The little boy chews on his lip for a minute, looking at Santa, Brandon and the dark haired nurse.  “You mean like a present for all of us?” he asks Santa.

Santa ruffles the top of his hair, careful not to bump the IV pole attached to the tubes in the boy’s arm. “For everybody,” he nods.

The little boy wraps his arms around Santa’s neck for a quick hug and calls ‘thank you’ as he runs off to get a cookie.  The older boy hands the ball to Santa, who hands it to the Nurse.

Taking the brightly colored ball, she tucks it under her arm.  “How did you know their names? About Brandon’s brother?”

Adjusting his fake beard, he laughs again.  She tries to ignore the pleasant tone and steps back when he reaches to her.  He drops his arm, defeated he can’t charm her.  “I’m Santa.  It’s my job to know the names of all the kids.  The ones here at the hospital are especially important to me.  And I try to know all their names and wishes…. Just like the nurses.  Nurse Janelle.  And you’re wishing for a Disney trip?”

Who the fuck is this guy?  “My scrubs are covered in Mickey.  That’s not hard to deduce, fat boy,” she pokes him in his foam padded belly, catching sight of her watch again.  She just wants to go home. Take a hot shower. Order pizza. Have a beer.  Be alone for the next three days.  He grabs her jacket sleeve, turning her wrist to see Mickey on the watchband as well.

“Call it a lucky guess?  So what are you doing after work.  I’m guessing you’re off now? You’ve been watching the clock for the last hour.  If you’re not bus-”

“Nurse Janelle! Nurse Janelle!”  Santa steps back when an adorable little blonde runs between them, tugging on the nurse’s jacket.  “It’s time; you’re leaving?”

Janelle squats down to the child’s level.  “Yea, sweetie, but I’ll be back.  You know that.”  While she talks to the girl, she holds her tiny hand, discreetly checking the child’s pulse to make one last note for the day.  “I’ll be back on Saturday, and you can tell me all about your Christmas, ok honey?”

The little girl looks over her shoulder at Santa, smiling.  She steps closer to Janelle and whispers in her ear.  “I asked him for a pony. But it can’t come inside the hospital.  How do you think he’ll do it?”

Janelle giggles at the wisp of breath the little girl creates against her neck.   Moving back, she looks in the innocent bright blue eyes.  The eyes.  Something jumps in her mind.  She shakes her head as though she knows it can’t be right.  Knowing the child’s parents have made plans to take her out of the hospital for a sleigh ride on Christmas Day, she firmly replies, “Santa always works magic.  I’m sure he’s already figured it out.”

She hugs her sweetly before rising tall.  Tugging her scrubs in place, she turns to go quickly before any more of the kids catch her.  “Sure I can’t change your mind?” Santa asks.

Sighing, she huffs, “I’m sure.  Thanks, but no thanks, Santa.”

Making her quick get away,she shuffles down the hall quietly, keeping her head low, just waiting to get to the workroom to clock out, hoping there are still some cookies left that haven’t been touched by children.  She loves her job, but off duty, she does not want kid germs on her food, especially during the cold winter months.  If she’s sick, she could be off the job for days, just to keep the patients from becoming more sick.

The workroom itself is festive with the group getting ready to go on shift, and those getting ready to leave for the night.  Washing up quickly, she takes the cookie and hot chocolate her friend Chani offers her.  Nibbling on the wonderful sweet she moves to the counter to clock out before plopping down on the couch, joining her friend for a quick rest before heading out into the cold night.

“Janelle, girl, come with us.  Honey, you can’t sit at home and mope for the next few days,” Chani prods.  “I’ve got a slinky black dress perfect for you! Hit the town with us.”

“Slinky black dress? I’m all for that.”  His unmistakeable voice fills the space.

Looking up, Janelle can’t believe it.  Santa was played by none other than Chris fuckin’  Evans.  “Sweet Jesus,” she mumbles under her breath as he leans forward to give Chani a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, good-lookin’!  I’ve missed you!  I’m so glad you got to come play Santa,” Chani laughs, letting her hand rest against his chest a moment longer than necessary.  “I see you’ve been staying away from the Christmas cookies this year, ‘Santa.’”

“Gotta stay in shape, ya know.  It’s a tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it,” he laughs.  Eyeing the table of sweets, he reaches for the smallest cookie he can find, the sugar cookie kind with a chocolate kiss pushed in the center, and pops it in his mouth before sitting on the coffee table, trapping Janelle’s knees between his legs. He taps her knee purposely with his.

“I’m sure you’d look charming in an LBD, because I’m not wearing it.  You two know each other?” Janelle asks indifferently, taking a plate of goodies one of the other nurses hands to her.  She nibbles on a white chocolate covered pretzel totally ignoring the good looking actor sitting in front of her.

“This handsome fella came by the clinic I used to work at in Chicago once and we’ve been friends ever since.  He was the first person I knew when I came to Boston,” Chani explains, stealing a cookie from Janelle’s plate.  “HE’S the guy I’ve been trying to set you up with for months.  I think you two are perfect for each other.”

“I am NOT the same animal as him,” Janelle replies quickly, almost feeling bad about it when she sees him wince at the comment.

Recovering quickly, Chris rubs his hand over Chani’s knee.  “Aw, honey, thanks.  But I get the feeling she doesn’t want to be set up, even with a great guy like me.  Don’t believe everything you read,” he teases as he winks at Janelle.  “Come go with us; it’ll be fun. I’ll get changed out of this Santa suit-”

Looking him squarely in the eye, Janelle interrupts.  “Take away the suit and you’re still just a millionaire, playboy, philanthropist… I’m. Not. Interested.”

Chris clutches at his heart, pretending to be hurt.  “Oh, that’s a good one, sweetheart, like I’ve never heard that before.”  She can see in his eyes her dig cut just a little bit.

Chani shakes her head, stage whispering, “Girl! What is wrong with you? Chris Evans is asking you to go out with us!  Come on; you have no need to rush home.”

“I don’t know Chani, maybe she has cats to take care of,” Chris dismisses her as he gets up and shakes his arms out of the heavy Santa jacket.  Like the abs in his too-tight tshirt are going to change my mind…

“Oh, that’s original.  No wedding ring, early thirties, so you automatically assume I have cats.  Nice.” He shrugs his shoulders.  “I have a boyfriend; Chani you know I have a boyfriend.”

“That douchebag?” Chani rolls her eyes, setting her plate on the coffee table, waving goodbye to a few of the nurses leaving for the night.  She signals to the girls she plans to meet with later.  “If he’s so great, why have I never met him?”

Janelle hits her head against the back of the couch, accidentally thumping it against the wall.  She screws up her face and rubs at the tender spot.  “I can’t help he lives outta town and it’s easier for me to go visit him.”  She glances to Chris.  “But if you wanna have this discussion again about how unsuitable you think he is as a suitor for me, can we do it in private? After Christmas?”

Sheepishly nodding her head, Chani apologizes.  “Sorry.  That was rude.  I’m sure if you like him, he’s not a total douche.  But leaving you alone at Christmas totally sucks and I really wi-”

Janelle stands up, bumping into Chris, nearly tripping over his feet and he places a hand on her waist to keep her from falling.  She jerks away quickly from his touch.  “Chani.  Enough.  Babes, I love ya.  But I am going home.  To call my boyfriend,” she says pointedly to her friend.  “And to feed my cat,” she addresses to Chris.  “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Stalking to her locker, she quickly grabs her coat and gloves, murmuring her goodbyes and good wishes of a holiday season to her coworkers.  She glares back at Chris before she leaves the room, resisting the urge to flip him off.

Click here for “Naughty” ending, NSFW, 2784

Click here for “Nice” ending, Fluffy NSFW, 3365

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

WIP: Coffee Shop PT 2

WIP coffee shop cover.jpg

WIP: Coffee Shop PT 2

by avenger-nerd-mom

Veronica Connors has her hands full taking care of her sick mother…

Warnings: Language, sick parent, caretaker role

Word Count: 2330

I’ve been working on some original fiction pieces aside from my fan fictions.  I will not be posting whole stories here or on tumblr, but I plan to share bits and pieces as I make progress.  No famous personalities and quirks to fall back on, no face claims… these hurting souls are all mine.

Click here for PT 1

As the summer continues a pattern develops. Mother and I develop a schedule. Breakfast and medicine. A walk around the yard before the summer Sun heats up. She enjoys telling me about her garden. On really good days we get down in the dirt and she feels productive, regaling me with stories I’ve never heard about her childhood. Lunch and medicine. Her afternoon nap. Her soaps on TV. She complains daily that her favorites are no longer on the air, having been replaced by ‘those damn game shows and ranting women.’

I try to finish my work for the office by two each day. The advice for new mothers to nap when the baby naps? I would say it holds true for anyone taking care of an aging parent. Even on a day when she is active and lucid I’m worn out.  When she settles into her chair for the afternoon I often curl up on the couch and try to catch an hour nap. I have to; I never know what the night time will bring. I’m learning it often means night terrors, fits of rage and on one occasion trying to escape the house at two in the morning.

The woman I see isn’t my mother anymore. My mother, although controlling, was graceful and arrogant. Yet she had a way about her that made everyone like her. I didn’t realize till college that was all for show. She was tolerated simply because she was head of so many committees in town.  I knew I didn’t like her but was surprised my freshman year in college when I worked at the country club over the summer that many of her friends didn’t like her either. I overheard them one day as I was helping prep for one of her charity events.  Although the things they said about Eleanor Connor were true, it was difficult to hear others hate your own flesh and blood.  That was my job.

Daytime I can handle.  I work, do laundry and take care of Mom. It’s a little mind numbing actually.  I don’t worry about the house. Her cleaning lady still comes in once a week and as long as I vacuum and keep the kitchen clean we don’t make too many messes. If mother’s state continues it will be time to consider moving her to a residential facility. Aunt Sharon and I have talked about this.  She’d like it to happen sooner than later; I think she’d like to take back the property.  Daddy deeded it to her in the event that mother no longer was using the home.

I sure as hell don’t want it. She can have it. Even as a young girl I knew the home was a status symbol; Daddy bought it so Mother could keep up her appearances and have a display home for teas and charity meetings with the other bored, wealthy housewives in town. I always felt like Cinderella with the number of chores she made me complete each week. Always giving me a list of things before I could go out-

“Roni? Be a dear,” She interrupts my thoughts and I know what’s coming. Like clockwork. “It’s chilly in here and there is a glare on the tv. Please hand me my sweater.”

I rise to hand it to her, moving the tv monitor a fraction of an inch before sitting on the couch next to her. Back to the original location it sat in yesterday when she complained.  I swear it’s a game with her.  There is no glare. She just wants to see me jump. She scowls as she takes the blue fuzzy garment, sniffing, “Where’s my pink one? I like it. It’s softer.”

“I know Mama. I had to wash it today, remember? You spilled soup on it last night.”  That’s being polite. She poured it in her lap like a child when it was cheese broccoli instead of tomato. When I began cooking around four she wanted cheese broccoli. By five when it was ready to eat, she requested tomato. When she didn’t get her way she dumped it in her lap. “You wanted me to dry it on the line because you said it would smell like your garden?”

“I did? Oh, heaven’s no child. Go get it!  I can’t have all the pollen in the sweater fibers! I won’t be able to breath for a week!”

Sighing, I look at my watch. “Do I have to go right this minute, Mama?  Can it wait till Aunt Sharon gets here so I don’t leave you alone?”

She pulls her arms through the sweater like a petulant child, pouting. “I’m not helpless. I can be left alone for five minutes.”

“Mama. The last time you said that to me I found you standing in the middle of the street and you didn’t know how you got there,” I remind her.

She stares at me blankly. “That’s a lie. You just want me to be sick. You give me too much medicine so I get foggy and I can’t think straight.”

She blames the doctor too.  Actually, he does tend to keep her in a fog.  He says her body can heal faster if she rests and he knows it makes caring for her easier on me and Aunt Sharon.

I can’t read her state and I say the first thing to come to my mind. “Mama, if I was gonna over medicate anyone right now it would be me so I could block out all this shit.”

It’s like my tone triggers something in her brain and she reaches over to pat my knee. “Hey little Roni Boney; what’s got you down dearie?”

I ignore the hated nickname and her unintended slam for all my years as a skinny, scrawny thing. This woman sounds like my Mom. I reach out to grasp her fingertips locking her frail hand in mine. When did she get old? Was she old before she got sick?  “Nothing, Ma. I’m just kinda tired.”

“Is it Thomas? He’s a nice man; I like him. Why hasn’t he come to visit you this summer?”

Of course she would like him, but I bite my tongue.  “Mama, he and I broke up last spring. We just didnt-”

She interrupts me again, snapping to attention. “Veronica Rae Connors. You are too old to still be single. That nonsense of yours about getting a job and moving to the city needs to stop. You can’t be all high and mighty and expect a man to love you.  A good man still wants his wife waiting at home with a hot dinner at night, getting the kids ready for their bath so they can have time alone and make more babies.”

“Good God, Mama!  What year do you think this is?!”  I take a deep breath to keep myself from actually yelling at her.  I rub my temples and pray dad’s sister gets here soon. “Barefoot and pregnant with pearls around my neck? I don’t live in some kind of black and white rerun on TV. In this day and age women have jobs; some of us even make more money than our male counterparts. If you’re waiting around for me to have kids or settle down, you’ll be waiting a helluva long time. I’m just not in that frame of mind or that place right now, Mama. I gotta finish making myself before I can make a wife or a mom.”

Looking at me in disbelief as if I’ve sprouted two heads, she retorts quickly,  “What kind of feminist new age bullshit is that?”

Oh, my God.  I actually want to argue with her just because she seems human now, not this collapsed shell of who she used to be.  I gleefully begin to get a little fired up about this. “Why do you spit out feminism like it’s a bad thing?”  I reply.  “You could have worked, you went to college; studied journalism.  You gave it away for Daddy.  That’s what you wanted.  Why can’t I have what I want?!”

“You think I had what I wanted?” she mocks.  “Your father was-”

“Enough Eleanor!” Aunt Sharon calls out haltingly at the arched entrance to the living room.  “You will not besmirch my brother’s name over your petty indifferences.  If you say one more word, you’ll be out now.”

Mother instantly stops, looking to me like a child with her hand slapped for being in the cookie jar.  My mouth ajar I have no idea what just transpired.  Aunt Sharon just shakes her head at me as she drops her bag in the chair she leaves stationed just inside the doorway.  She pulls off her light jacket and pushes a few loose tendrils behind her ear.  “Eleanor, you know that man gave you everything.  You had what you wanted.”

Her last phrase, repeated from my own words, shows she’d been in the house listening, at least for a few moments before making her presence known.

In a blink, Mom shuts back down.  Her eyes glaze over and it’s like we weren’t even in the middle of an interesting discussion.  Bile burns my throat as I want to rip into my aunt but I know if I do, my evening alone is shot.   I hand Mom the remote and she stares at it for a minute before turning her eyes back to the television.  Steeling myself, I take a big breath and rise to my feet.  “Aunt Sharon, can I see you in the hallway?”

I can see on her face she knows I’m pissed, but she simply nods her head yes and steps backwards into the open space.  She opens her mouth before I can even start.  “Veronica.  You can not do that.  She is not in a good head space and you know that.  Even when she seems like your mother, you can’t.  You can’t engage her and you can’t trust things she tells you.”

I slink back against the wall, deflated because I know she’s right. “You’re right.  Dammit, you’re right.  Just…” I huff.  “When she starts in about Thomas, or Daddy…”  I shake my head.  “I can deal with one or the other but not both.  She acts like I’ve failed at life, and she has no idea about my life.  She-”

“She tried and you cut her out.”

“Sharon, that’s bullshit and you know it.  She made her bed.  I know all the horrible things after Daddy died.  But I wasn’t around before that.  And I’m never gonna resolve all that if I don’t know.”

“But you can’t trust her.  Her brain isn’t right.”

“Then I need you to fuckin’ tell me what you know.”  She purses her lip when I curse.  She has her list of acceptable words and ‘fuck’ isn’t one of them.  “Sorry. I know… really.  I just need information and it’s like it’s all locked in her brain. I just need a time when she is cognizant, to tell me what she remembers.”

“Honey, even then… Your mother,” she pauses, sighing.  “Your mother wasn’t always a nice, truthful person.  I only know what I saw.  Snippets of gossip I’d hear around town.” She sighs even deeper.  “But if you really think it will help you, I’ll think back on those days and we can talk it out soon.”  She lapses for a moment as I shake my head in agreement.  “And I’m sorry for intruding.  But I don’t want to listen to your mother ruin my brother’s memory; I get enough of that each night when you are out… What are you doing to keep busy by the way? Still writing at the coffee shop?”

“You’re changing the subject…” I scoff, scowling at her a bit.  I know she’s right.  I take a deep breath and let her tactic work.  “Tonight is discount night at the movies.  I’m gonna go see that new show everyone’s talking about; then yeah, I’ll probably head to the coffee shop for a bit.”

Peering into the living room, I see mother rise from the couch and shuffle to the blinds, adjusting them to block out more light.  Rubbing the back of my neck, I shake my head.  “Sharon, I can’t keep doing this.  She’s got to get better.  I eventually have to get back to my life.”

“Oh, sweetie,” my aunt steps forward and wraps her arms around me, pulling me into her full bosom.  “I know.  I know.  Next week, after we meet with the doctors.  We’ll see what the next step should be.”  Pulling my head up to look her in the eye, she reminds me, “What you’ve done is so amazing.  You’ve been the best daughter, the best niece anyone could hope for honey.”  Wrapping a stray curl around one of her fingers, she tucks it back up in my messy bun.  “Stop sitting at that damn coffee shop.  You’re not gonna meet people there.”

I chuckle and kiss her on the cheek.  I love that she can make me feel sixteen again with a simple hug.  I squeeze her tight before letting go.  “There’s a reason I moved away from this place.  I didn’t want to come back.  I’m not about meeting people right now.  I’m about getting Mom better or getting her someplace where people can care for her.”

Sharon pushes me towards the door.  “That doesn’t mean you have to live like a nun.”  She hands me my purse from the side table.  “Live a little.  Karaoke night at Charlie’s tonight.  That’s where everyone goes on Thursdays.  Forget the movies.  Really?  If you called me up and said you were at Charlie’s I’d so stay a few extra hours.”

Opening the door, I shake my head at her.  “What if I make it sound like I’m at Charlie’s?” I ask, reaching for my computer bag next to the walker mom needs to start using.

“GO, child.  Live a little,” she laughs.

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