Disclaimer: Don't own it. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fic. That said, on with the (oh-so-subtle) crack!


Clearly, this was going to be an event he wouldn't soon forget.

Not that he'd be able to forget it anyway, after that waitress all those years ago back in Texas, but even if he had wanted to forget it, the likelihood that grace would allow him that just wasn't looking very good.

One thing he couldn't remember, on the other hand, was how the topic had even come up in the first place. It just seemed to him that all Claire talked about lately was going to visit her parents back home. At the breakfast table, in front of the television, in the park, in bed, all she wanted to do was see her parents. Of course, being the way things were with them, he'd have to come along for the ride, too.

"They're going to find out eventually, and I'd rather be the one to break it to them than someone else."

"Who else would tell them? Who else even knows?"

Claire let out a small sigh, clearly skirting around the question.

"That's beside the point. Look, all I'm saying is I'm their daughter, and they'd obviously want to know if I was happy, right? Well, seeing as how I am happy..." Her small hand slowly inched around his waist, trying to ease whatever misgivings he was having about the whole situation.

Apparently, it worked.

"Fine, fine," he said. "I'll go with you to see your parents. But just so you know, if anything, anything goes wrong, it is not my fault."

"Please, what could possibly go wrong?"

As it turned out, a lot of things could go wrong. Like nearly missing their flight out because somebody (who shall forever remain nameless) forgot to set the alarm. Or arriving at her parents house only to realize that no one was home, and having to search through a few dozen potted plants before finding the one that housed the spare key. ("I don't get it, it's always been the second from the right.") Or (after they finally managed to make their way inside) finding a note left for Claire's younger brother, stating that they had gone out for a while and wouldn't be back until later that evening.

So yes, one could say that there were quite a few things that could go wrong.

"I wouldn't worry too much, they're usually not gone as long as they say they'll be," Claire reassured him as she poked around the refrigerator for something to drink. "Did you want lemonade or iced tea?"

Staring through the open door of what he originally thought was the hall closet (in the attempt to find a spot to hang his coat), he called back over his shoulder, "Something stronger. In the biggest glass you own."

He simply couldn't believe his eyes. The room he stood in was by no means small, but absolutely filled with trophies, plaques, medals, and other various awards. He had of course known that Mrs. Bennet was slightly obsessed with her champion of a show dog, he just never realized how far that obsession went, even after all of Claire's stories about the equally obsessed women who wanted their dogs to breed with - what was his name, again? Ah, yes - Mr. Muggles. That fuzzy little dog was nowhere to be seen (Claire mentioned that her mother had more than likely dragged him along to wherever it was they had gone), but even in his absence he was no less impressive.

Seeing something nestled into a corner of the room, he let out a soft whistle through his teeth. "Look at the size of that!"

An old trophy in the center of the room had caught his attention. Standing nearly as tall as he did, the large gold plates engraved with the name of some apparent Big Deal canine beauty pageant reflected his own amazed face back at him.

These people sure had an odd opinion of the meaning of special.

Walking back towards the living room, he sat down in the center of the couch, staring at a spot on the beige carpeting. He dreaded what would happen the instant the Bennets arrived to find their daughter not only home, but alone with someone who had as much "history" with the family as he did.

Oh no, he would most definitely not be forgetting this.

Coming into the room, Claire sat down next to him, handing over a large highball. "Here," she said, taking a sip from her own glass. "It's normally not made that big, but I figured you could use it. Hope you like amaretto."

Downing half his drink in one long, slow pull, he swallowed hard, letting the alcohol burn in his throat. He had just started his second mouthful when Claire said something that practically made him spit his drink everywhere.

"Man, they are gonna freak when they get back. Don't worry, it won't just be you, but when they see I'm here, I mean, that's some surprise, right?"

"WHAT?"

"I wanted to surprise them."

"You mean your parents have no idea that we're here?!"

"I told you, don't worry! It's actually better this way. Really, they'll be so happy to see me that they'll barely even notice you."

The very thought made him throw the most dubious of looks at her. "You honestly mean to tell me that your parents will be "so happy" to see their daughter that they won't realize the man she's with is the very one who once upon a time tried to kill every member of their family?!"

"That's the plan."

"You know, you're too much like your father sometimes. Both of them." Raising his drink once more, he finished his interrupted sip, and swirled the remaining contents around the bottom of his glass. "This is pretty good stuff. What's it called?"

"A lobotomy."

"A lobotomy?"

"I thought it'd be funny."

"And when did you learn how to mix drinks?"

"One of my friends back in high school taught me. Her dad was a bit of a drunk, and always had the stuff just lying around, so every few weeks we'd have sleepovers for the whole squad over to her house and experiment."

"Okay, so a fellow cheerleader, it all makes sense now." A playful elbow in the ribcage told him the joke was well taken. "So which friend was this?"

"It was-- "

He almost caught it too late. She had told him before that the last few weeks she had spent with her one time best friend hadn't exactly been very civil, but she still found herself missing her old co-captain on the rare occasion.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I should have known, I shouldn't have brought it up. I just-- "

"No, it's okay," she said, cutting him off with a raised hand. "That's neither here nor there. What is here, on the other hand..." The sound of a car door being closed leaked inside from an open window, and Claire straightened up in preparation for the coming introductions.

"Are you ready?"

"I would be if you had at least told them we were coming." This time the elbow hit harder, in a way that only the elbow of a Bennet can.

"Don't start." Turning around to face the now gaping front door, Claire spoke up before anyone else got the chance to.

"Mommy, Daddy. There's somebody I'd like you to meet."