A/N: So the prompt-a-thon starts now! Most of the prompts I got were from either Young Blood or Monster (aka You Little Shit). So this is compilation of all the Monster mini-fics for the week...I'll be posting a similar fic for the YB ones later today.

Prompt: Prompt: Two different people asked me for a holiday after Alex gets out of prison and starts living with Max and Piper, specifically mentioned the awkward Chapman family gatherings, Max being the only enthused one. So since this was a double prompt, this is a little longer than most will be, and features two holidays. This is probably the closest to full on sequels.

"So. You're serious. You're just…not going to come."

Alex swallows a sigh, wishing Piper wouldn't make this even more difficult. "I'm pretty sure I'm not even technically invited."

"I'm inviting you," Piper insists. "Trust me, I have the authority."

Alex has to really look at her to see how truly frustrated she is. Motherhood has strengthened Piper's patience, as well as her control over her temper.

These days, Alex benefits from that more than Max.

Now, Piper purses her lips and crosses her arms, and Alex can sense the trump card coming even before Piper throws it down. "It's your first holiday out. Max already asked if you get to come with us this year."

Damn her. She's good at knowing how and when to use the kid.

A familiar mingling of shame and resentment fan out across Alex's chest. She hoists herself up on the kitchen counter, opening a beer, trying to make the conversation seem more casual than it's starting to feel. "I guess you'll have to tell him that Grandma and Grandpa fucking hate me. I doubt they'd even let me in the house."

Piper rolls her eyes. "Dramatic. They know you're liv - staying here." She stumbles slightly on the correction, eyes skirting away while she continues like nothing happened. "And they know we usually only show up for dinner after we've been to see you on Thanksgiving. Every year of Max's life. It's not like this will be a shock."

Alex stretches her leg out to kick Piper lightly on the thigh, waiting until she turns away from the counter, where she's packing Max's lunch box for tomorrow, to meet her gaze before asking, "Did you mention me coming?"

"...no." The admission comes quietly.

"And did your mom ask?"

"No." Piper looks away, embarrassed, but she recovers quickly. "I told you. It's not up to her." When Alex doesn't answer, Piper pushes, "If it's not now, it'll be Christmas. And then Max's birthday. We'll have to get it over with eventually." The certainty in her tone falters, as she adds after too long of a pause, "Right?"

Alex makes a noncommittal noise and tries not to look at the hurt frustration flashing across Piper's face before she turns away again.

Piper keeps doing that. Trying to get her to say something that suggests this arrangement is permanent.

"I've gotta head to work," Alex mutters eventually, inadvertently evoking one of the many reasons she can't offer Piper that assurance. She buses tables and works as a bar-back, a few nights a week, from a place that's getting a kickback for hiring her. A promotion to actual bartender in the next few months will be considered the height of her luck.

She takes another long swig of her beer then hands the rest to Piper, like a peace offering.

Piper sips it absently, her face clouded over. She obviously isn't happy with the way this conversation went, but she drops it or now. "Okay. You're picking Max tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah." One of the perks of working nights; Alex is pretty good live in childcare.

"Make him stay for Lunch Bunch if you want," she adds, referring to the optional afternoon session of Max's preschool class.

"Okay," Alex answers, knowing full well she won't. Piper likes to tease her about spoiling him, and Alex lets her, not wanting her to know that her motivations are more selfish than anything.

Most days, Alex wakes up to the crushing weight of failure, full of a panicked urgency that has nowhere to go. She's become far too adept at quickly thinking herself right into a pit of swirling darkness.

At four years old, Max Chapman is the best cure for that.

"Alex!"

Max's face lights up, and he instantly abandons the structure of blocks he was working on to make a run for her, nearly tripping over another cluster of four year olds to get to her.

Alex grins when he collides with her legs, ruffling his hair. "Hey, Monster." He tilts his head to beam up at her. "Go get your bag, okay?"

She loves this part of the day, picking Max up, the way he's always as happy to see her as he was the day she was released, as if it's been much longer than five hours since they last saw each other.

Alex waves to his preschool teachers, who give her polite, thin lipped smiles - Piper had signed a stack of forms to allow Alex to come pick Max up, at any time, but they still seem eternally suspicious of her, probably because Max isn't shy about bragging to everyone that she moved in with them after getting out of jail - then offers her hand to Max as they walk to the car.

She straps him into the carseat in the back then drives, just letting Max talk.

"And all the letters and colors, and the letters were on the letter tree, and the colors were on the...uh. The blocks. But I already know the letters already. Do you wanna hear all the letters I know?"

"Tell me."

He starts singing, "ABCDEFG. H-I-J-J emilino P. V. W X. Y and Z. Now I know my ABC's, next time won't you sing with me?"

Alex angles her hand off the steering wheel enough to clap. "Awesome."

"Want me to do some more songs?"

"Always."

He raises his voice, too fast for the tune. "Twinkle twinkle little star how I wonder what you are. Up above the lord.." He stops, as always, struggling with the word. "Lord. Wer-elled." He starts singing again, "so high like a diamond in the sky..." Max finishes the song. "Do you want me to do Old Macdonald?"

"Uh, of course. It's my favorite."

Alex never would have thought she could stand this. The never ending rambling, punctuated with long, random pauses. Max has two modes: monologues or endless questions. Alex is happy with either of them; she could listen to the kid talk for days. It takes her out of her own head.

Lately, being around Max is the only time Alex doesn't feel like she's falling short. For some reason, built over years of weekly visits, that little boy adores her, and it's entirely uncomplicated. Without Alex having to earn or prove it, Max thinks she's great.

It's cold outside, winter starting to settle in, so they hunker down in the house for the rest of the afternoon. Alex makes them both grilled cheeses with every kind of cheese they have in the fridge, and afterwards they play Hide and Seek and Dinosaur and Race Cars and Play Dough. It is not much to be good at: roaring and tickling and crawling around on carpet and maintaining enthusiasm, but it's exactly what Max needs from her, so it doesn't make Alex feel useless.

"...and Piper, now, you know you won't be able to use the oven at our place tomorrow, the schedule's very tight with the turkey..."

Angling the phone away from her mouth in case she can't stop herself from sighing impatiently, Piper half tunes her mother out as she goes on and on about the Thanksgiving oven schedule, waiting out the whole explanation before calmly informing her mom that she'll be completely prepared. She thinks wistfully of the days when Thanksgiving didn't mean seeing her family at all. Since Max was born, they've tried to make holidays a proper, extended family affair, but the old tradition - a mish mash of friends eating together while her parents went out of town - definitely had its perks.

Namely, none of her friends probably would have cleared their throats and asked, "And Piper...I know I shouldn't have to say this, I hope it would have been understood, but...you're not bringing that woman, are you?"

"Who?" Piper blurts out sarcastically, like a brat.

"Piper."

"You know she lives with me." None of the tiptoeing around the permanence like she has to with Alex. Better to get her mother used to the idea. "You don't think that's kind of rude?"

"I quite honestly don't care," Carol replies stiffly. "God knows you'll do what you like, but I don't have to welcome her into my home."

Piper feels a hot wave of irritation, but she stays quiet. It's hard to work herself into a pointless argument with her mom when Alex doesn't even want to be fought for.

It makes her feel very tired, all of a sudden.

She's short but not combative for the rest of the phone call, and she wraps it up quickly, taking the very necessary moment to shake off the headspace her mother always shoves her into before getting out of the car and heading into the house.

Piper always tries to enter as quietly as possible; she likes the days she can catch a few private moments between Alex and Max, witnessing that easy, effortless magic before they notice her. Tonight she gets lucky; they're on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, their backs to the door, magic markers littering the area. A cartoon is playing on the TV, but the volume's low and Max doesn't seem to be paying attention; he's on his knees, little face tight with concentration, drawing on Alex's bicep, probably adding scribbles to the skin surrounding her rose tattoo.

Closing the door without sound, Piper leans back to watch them; Alex's head is craned to watch Max's masterpiece. After a moment, she says something Piper can't hear that makes Max wrinkle his nose and giggle. Alex grins back at him. Easy and effortless.

Longing swells in Piper's throat at the sight of Alex smiling. This is what she loves about these moments, but it's bittersweet.

Alex never smiles like that for her anymore. Only Max can get it out of her.

Looking away, Piper sets her keys and purse down on the hall tree, no longer taking care to be silent.

"Mommy!" Max drops his marker to run for her, and Piper bends down to meet him.

"There's my sweet boy," she murmurs into his curls. "Did you and Alex have a good day?" She feels Max nod. "Did you stay for Lunch Bunch."

"No," he reports, pleased, and Piper meets Alex's eyes over his shoulder, giving her a teasing look of exaggerated accusation.

Alex shrugs innocently. She's still smiling, but it's dialed back a few degrees, the light in her eyes dimming just a little. If Piper thinks about it too much, she starts to panic that this is the effect she has on Alex now.

Alex works late that night. Two shifts in a row is unusual, but she took all available shifts this week as other people asked off for the holiday. When Piper puts Max to bed, he asks - again - if Alex is coming with them to Grandma and Grandpa's the next day. Piper lies, says she has to work, and Max only sulks a little. In his world, gown ups are forever having to work.

Before she goes to sleep, Piper plugs in the Buzz Lightyear nightlight that stays in her bedroom now. They pretend it's there in case Max sneaks in in the middle of the night, which happens, instead of because Alex still can't fall asleep in the dark.

Piper fumbles awake when she feels Alex crawling carefully into bed beside her. "Hey..." she mumbles into the almost dark.

She feels Alex's lips hit the corner of her still closed eye. "Sorry," she whispers. "Go back to sleep."

Rolling over a little, Piper makes herself find Alex's gaze. "We're leaving pretty early in the morning."

Alex's eyes flick away, like an instinct. "I know." She slips under the covers. "The kitchen smells good."

"Where's Alex?" is the first thing Cal asks her after greeting his nephew with a complicated fist bump.

Piper grits her teeth and gives him a look. "You really think Mom would let her come?"

Her brother lets out a low whistle. "So you just left her home? Damn."

Jesus. Like she doesn't feel bad enough. As Max lopes off to greet the rest of her family, Piper lowers her voice to an angry hiss. "You know what, she specifically said she didn't want to come. And then Mom specifically said she wasn't invited. They were both pretty clear, and they were on the same side, ironically. Nothing I could do."

Cal lifts his hands in surrender, then takes her stack of casserole dishes and escapes for the kitchen.

As always, Max is the center of attention, and Piper's glad to just sit quietly and let her son be an adorable delight, injecting bouncy energy into her stiff childhood home. The only problem is he insists on telling everyone about his "best friend, Alex"

Most of her relatives roll with it, but her mother's lips go tighter and tighter with every mention, enough that Piper should see it coming but doesn't.

They're in the kitchen, Piper helping her mom move from the 'cooking' to 'presentation' stage, the sounds of a football game barely reaching them in the living room, and Max is sitting at the kitchen's breakfast bar, coloring the construction paper turkey to go in the center of the table while Carol asks him questions about pre-school. Then, out of nowhere, Piper's mom asks, "Do you see Miss Libby anymore?" referring to Max's baby-sitter, an older woman who lives in their neighborhood. Piper used to pay her to watch Max a few days a week for the few hours between Lunch Bunch and Piper finishing up work

"No," Max replies without looking up from his work. "Alex gets me from school now."

Carol makes a stuck, high pitched sound. "Well. I guess that's convenient. Don't expect she's able to hold a job."

"Mom..." Piper mutters in warning, but before she gets anywhere, Max glances over, his interest piqued.

"Do you know Alex, Grandma?" he asks eagerly.

"No, buddy," Piper cuts in swiftly. "Grandma's never met Alex."

"Grandma, did you know Alex has flowers on her arm? And a skin bracelet?" He taps a crayola thoughtfully on his own arm, in the same place as Alex's tribal armband tattoo. "Alex says when I'm bigger I can get ones like hers."

"You most certainly will not," Carol counters firmly. She pins a judging gaze on Piper, still addressing Max. "And your mom should't be encouraging you to be anything like Alex."

Piper's pretty sure it's the first time her mother has ever used Alex's name, and it throws her off long enough for Max, to assert loyally, "Alex is my best friend. She's mommy's girlfriend, did you know?"

"Max," Carol leans across the counter to look him seriously in the eye. "Do you remember where Alex was before she came to live with you?"

"Mom."

"Yes. In jail." Max always delivers that information with an almost proud tone of voice.

"That means she's a criminal, sweetheart. It's like...say I was reading you a story. She would be one of the bad guys."

For a moment Piper's too pissed off to speak - she can't decide whether to throw in the obvious problem in declaring anyone who's served time as a bad guy.

Max frowns, expression heartbreakingly confused. "Alex isn't bad."

"You wouldn't want to spend time with someone in your class who got in trouble all the time, would you?" Another pointed look at Piper. "Because that child might get you in trouble, too, right?"

Finally, Piper finds her voice, and it comes out too loud. "Stop. That's enough."

Big eyed, Max swivels around to look at her, instinctively afraid, like he's the one who's in trouble. Piper draws a deep breath, counting to ten in her head, then says, "Max, baby, can you go hang out with Uncle Cal for a little bit, please?"

"Okay," he says in a small voice, leaving his crayons and moving uncertainly out of the kitchen.

Piper waits until he's through the door, then she rounds on her mom, her throat hot with pulsing, raging words, her eyes blazing. "You don't get to do that," she snarls. "I let you tell me what you think, Mom, probably too much, but you don't get to shit talk her in front of Max. He's four. And he loves her, you can't tell him how to feel."

"I'm sorry, Piper," she says calmly in that voice that's anything but sorry. "But someone needs to have a care on the influences you're bringing around that boy."

"Are you suggesting I don't know what's best for my son?"

"If you think that woman constitutes what's best - "

"Alex. Her name's Alex, and she's great with Max." Piper pauses, trying to find her way back to calm. Her hands are curled into fists at her side, and she suddenly realizes she's nearly as mad at herself as her mom. "You know, when I first introduced Max to Alex, I told her I was a package deal now. Me and him." She inhales sharply. "Well, Alex is part of the package now. Non-negotiable."

Piper starts untying her apron, draping it over a chair. "We shouldn't have come."

"Oh, for God's sakes, Piper - "

Piper ignores her, heading for the kitchen door. "We're going to go. And we're not coming back until you can accept the whole package."

When she steps into the living room, the TV's on mute, everyone staring unabashedly in the direction of the kitchen. Max is sitting on the arm of Cal's armchair, watching her warily. She gently touches the top of her son's head. "C'mon, buddy, we're going home?"

"Why?"

"We're going to surprise Alex for dinner."

The magic words, Alex and surprise, chase away all caution from Max's face. He gets readily to his feet, and Piper takes his hand, not even giving him time to hug everyone goodbye, too afraid to get caught up in what's sure to be intense cajoling and negotiations for them to stay.

Alex is on her second bottle of wine of the day, and probably her sixth straight hour on the couch, half-watching whatever Christmas movies the channels are prematurely airing. She's sulky and drunk and full on wallowing in self-pity. The whole day makes her think of her old apartment in Queens, the long lonely months between sentences.

She's so spaced out she doesn't hear the key in the door, or the coming footsteps. She only hears the sudden, gleeful scream of "ALEX!" that's followed almost instantly by Max dive bombing into her on the couch, knocking the wind out of her.

"Monster?!" She recovers in time for the appropriate retaliation - tickling - even as her eyes search out Piper. She's carrying two pizza boxes, and she looks tired. "What are you guys doing back?"

"We decided we wanted to have dinner with you," Piper says lightly, throwing Alex the look that means they'll talk when Max is out of earshot.

Max, though, has no regard for this nonverbal cue. "Mommy got mad at Grandma," he informs Alex bluntly.

Alex's eyebrows shoot up. "She did?"

"Alex..."

"Grandma says you're a bad guy," Max says, absently stretching out Alex's T-shirt.

At that, Alex jerks her head up to look at Piper. "How does he know that?"

Piper's face softens. "Max, baby, go wash your hands okay? Time for pizza."

Max runs off, yelling back, "Alex, we got one with the white sauce!" before he disappears.

Piper meets Alex's eyes. "Mom decided to share her very strong opinions with a four year old. Which, honestly, I'm surprised hasn't happened before - "

Genuine fear is flickering across Alex's face, though she's trying to fight it off with pure irritation. "How do you know it hasn't happened before? Who knows what she's said to him about me..."

"You don't have to worry about him," Piper says, almost gently. "You've got a very loyal champion in there, trust me." After a pause, she adds, "And I stopped her. Told her we aren't coming back until you're invited to."

"What?"

"Yeah." Piper's eyes are digging into hers, waiting for Alex to be happy about that. Pushing it further, she adds, "I should have said that from the beginning. I know, okay? Sorry."

"No, it's fine. Nothing to be sorry for." Alex kisses her, once, but it feels distant even while she's doing it. "But you really didn't have to do a whole fucking dramatic exit. You could have stayed."

Piper's face changes, shot through with disappointment, and when Max comes running back in and begging for pizza, they're both glad for the distraction.

Maybe it's selfish, that she was expecting gratitude, but Alex isn't giving her anything. Not even relief. Not even a smug, I-told-you-so.

Piper had kind of seen coming home early as a grand gesture, big enough to alleviate all the leftover tension the Thanksgiving issue had put between them over the last few weeks, but clearly she was wrong. Alex lights up for Max, she's right there where Max can reach her, but Piper feels impossibly distant, and she has to work really hard not to be jealous of her four year old son.

Max wants Alex to read him his bedtime story; she works enough nights that it still feels like a special treat. Piper pours herself a glass of wine and leaves them alone in Max's room, waiting for Alex to emerge so she can go tell her son goodnight, but the minutes tick by, much longer than any of the books on Max's shelf warrant.

Finally, Piper wanders upstairs, easing open the crack of Max's doorway.

He's asleep, nestled against Alex's shoulder, sucking on his fingers. Alex doesn't seem to be any hurry to move, her eyes faraway as she threads gentle fingers absently through Max's hair.

Piper feels every bad, uneasy feeling she's add all day melt into nothing. "Hey," she whispers.

Alex startles a little, noticing Piper for the first time. "Oh, sorry." Gently, she eases Max off her side and against his pillow, then stands from the bed.

Piper comes a little further into the room, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Don't be sorry."

Alex is quiet for a moment, not moving. She's looking down at the sleeping four year old, her face cast in shadows, so Piper isn't prepared for the way her voice cracks when she speaks, suddenly, "I..." Piper draws instinctively closer, hearing Alex draw a wavering breath. She can count on one hand the number of times she's seen Alex cries. It always provokes a strange, shaky wave of fear.

"I can't believe how much I love him," Alex says finally, a catch in her voice, and all of Piper's worry softens instantly. She finds Alex's hand in the dark, overwhelmed with tenderness, the need to touch her.

"I know," she says softly. She does. She got to watch Alex fall in love with her son, all across a visitation table in prison. That was a gift.

"It scares the shit out of me," Alex adds.

"I know," Piper repeats, privately thinking that that's just being a parent. She doesn't say it out loud, though. She's still not sure that won't freak Alex out.

Then suddenly Alex's fingers slip out from hers, and she says in a quiet rush, "I've been thinking maybe this isn't a good idea."

Piper's chest goes cold. "What?"

"You and me, we've fucked each other over so many times. We've lost each other so many times, and we had to deal, we can handle it, but Max..." Her voice goes wet around his name. "He's just a little boy. He doesn't deserve to get hurt. Or left. I can't..."

Piper can't grab hold of the conversation. She doesn't understand what Alex is saying, but she's caught in the panic of that first statement, at whatever isn't a good idea.

"What are you saying?" Her voice is small and tight, but she forgets to whisper.

Alex lifts her chin, looking at Piper for the first time. "That I shouldn't be here if it's not going to be permanent. He shouldn't get anymore used to me than he is."

For a second, Piper feels physically ill. Every dark, guilty worry she's had since she adopted Max - five years worth of worry - comes to a dizzying peak between her eyes. She wants to scream it free. "So...what?" Her words sound like they're tumbling downhill. "This is about you not being able to commit? This isn't enough of a free fall for you? Do you have any idea how selfish -"

"Fuck off," Alex hisses back. "This isn't sustainable. Not for you. What are you going to do, cut Max off from his entire extended family? Are you really going to be able to give them up? They hate me, Pipes, and that's not going to change. There's still plenty they can say, like the fact that I'm a forty-five year old bartender...not even. I bus tables. Give me a few months and I'll be out of money and then I'll be a full on mooch, your mom will love that. I'm giving you nothing. You'll figure it out, eventually, and then I lose you both, but I'm not gonna fucking turn into someone who abandons him."

For a long moment, Piper just stares at her. Then she jerks her head toward the door. "Hallway. I'm about to yell and I don't wanna wake him up."

Without looking at each other, they move out of the bedroom and into the too bright light of the hallway. Alex's eyes are wild and red, and even she looks shaken by what she'd said.

Piper narrows a glare at her. "You fucking asshole." Alex's eyes widen in surprise; Piper doesn't curse much anymore, not since Max started talking. 'You don't get to play that card. Like you're sitting around waiting for me to leave you." Piper waits for argument, but none come. The muscles in Alex's face tighten, the slightest bit, and somehow, Piper sees that she really does believe it. "What else do I have to do?" she demands, and it comes out like she's begging. "You thought i"d stop visiting you. I didn't, not for five fucking years, Alex. I brought Max, every week, his whole life. I let him love you. And that was a risk, because I had no clue if you wanted this. If you could ever start to want it. I knew I did." The anger drains all at once, and like a switch flips, tears rush to her eyes. "You, me, and Max. That's all I want. That's what I've been planning for for years, Alex. And you're right, you should just..." Her voice breaks. Alex moves closer. "You should go now if you think that's what you'll want eventually. But alI I ever wanted was you to be home with us. So you don't get to take that away from me and say it's my choice."

She's crying by then, but still defiant.

Alex steps the rest of the way toward her. Piper's backed against the wall. She doesn't let her gaze waver. For a long moment, they just look at each other.

Finally, Piper can't stand the waiting, and she's still too off balance to trust what she's reading in Alex's gaze. "So?"

"What?" Alex asks huskily, and something in Piper's chest starts to come undone.

"Are you leaving?" Her voice shakes.

"No." Alex shakes her head and ends up with her forehead pressed against Piper's. Steady and serious, like a vow, she adds, "Not as long as you want me here."

"Then no," Piper clarifies firmly. Then, more like a sigh, "No leaving."

Their mouths fall against each other, sealing promises.

"This is getting pathetic."

"What is?" Alex asks innocently, swiveling her whole body around so she can face Piper.

"You're using a four year old as a buffer."

"Four and a half, Mommy," Max corrects indignantly from over Alex's shoulder.

"Yeah, Pipes, four and a half," Alex repeats with a smirk, bending down the slightest bit to scoot Max up on her back. It's Christmas Eve and, after a last minute, begrudging invitation, they've joined Piper's family for dinner. All three of them...and Alex has been giving Max a piggyback ride since they got out of the car, his constant presence forcing everyone to be polite.

Piper waits until Max isn't looking to catch Alex's eye and mouth, Pussy. Alex smirks, eyes flashing suggestively, and Piper turns instantly red.

Alex isn't scared of facing Piper's parents, even her mom...she's more afraid of herself, treating them like the assholes they are, but it doesn't set a good precedent to always be sniping with Max's only grandparents. So keeps her buffer, and Max is more than happy to be of service.

Cal is safe, at least, and Neri is a welcome distraction - she's pregnant, and every time Alex sees Carol Chapman talking to either her son or daughter-in-law, it's arguing about home births and names.

She has to let Max down at last to go rip into his gifts from his uncles, but Piper pulls her onto a loveseat almost instantly, and it's more gratifying than Alex could have ever predicted when Piper curls up easily beside her.

"It's kind of a bummer," she says in an undertone. "Grandparents are supposed to be super fun, you know? Spending the night with my grandmother was, like, this huge treat...we made ice cream sundaes and watched movies in a blanket fort." She pauses, then adds blithely, "My parents aren't exactly fun."

"My mom would've been good with him," Alex says quietly. It slips out before she can consider the implications. She's had that thought dozens of times. It can come on at any innocuous moment with Max, moments that fill her up with affection and, in the next heartbeat, leave her breathless with the thought that her mother will never meet him.

Which is silly.

Her mother wouldn't have been his grandmother. Because Max isn't, technically, her son.

But tonight, even more than usual, has Alex feeling that Max, and Piper, too, is still somehow hers.

Her family. Her package deal.

She looks over, checking Piper's reaction to the unthinking comment. Piper's eyes are soft and glowing, reflecting Christmas tree lights. "Max would have loved your mom."

Alex kisses her, light and gentle, right there in the middle of her parents living room.