A Thanksgiving one-shot I came up with. Readers would ask me to try and write longer one-shots. Well I hope you're happy. 26 Damn pages happy! LOL I started off with a mission but things quickly shifted in the plot of this story as I wrote, and by the time I got to the end, I was ready to be DONE. Please excuse all and/or any typos. Happy Holidays if you celebrate any of them. If you don't, then just have a great rest of this year.
Until next time, MistFits.
Thankful for You
Even though it wasn't her first time cooking for herself on a holiday, it was her first time cooking in her own personal home for someone else; and quite frankly (and unexpectedly) Maxine Gibson was losing her damn mind about it. At eighteen years of age, Gibson had to admit life was right in her corner for the time being: She'd been accepted to Gotham City University on a full scholarship, moved out of her sister's apartment, and – with a little help from her savings (never had she been so glad for her side hustle of doing homework and tutoring sessions for jocks) and Bruce Wayne's generous support – moved into the top floor of a private multi-level building full of townhouses just outside of the University's grounds. Gibson's accommodations within her home seemed enormous for just one person, consisting of: 1 decent sized Master Bedroom, 1 full bath, a decked out kitchen, dining room nook, and living room. But what Gibson loved was the housing's classic style that almost mirrored the interior of Wayne Manor – just on a much smaller scale. Then again, the three-story, seven homed building was owned by the Wayne family, and had been used as dormitories or apartments for private scholarship students for countless years. Wayne Collegiate Estates.
As of right now and within the past twenty years, Maxine Gibson was the structure's sole tenant – but the pink haired gamer girl honestly didn't mind. In fact, she preferred it that way. It literally made everything much easier on her…and of course, on Terry. Despite being a college student, Gibson still had an "after hours" job to do in which the modern Oracle swore she'd never be able to shake; and let's face it: the computer geek wouldn't be able to help her ace boon stop crime across Gotham with other teenagers running in and out of the building or partying downstairs. Even though Bruce still wasn't entirely fond of the genius's involvement in this vigilante lifestyle, the old man was going to make damn sure if she did it, it was done as right as possible.
Bruce made it clear to the University admissions board that Maxine Gibson was special to the senior and the future of his "business"…cute. According to a rundown by Terry one night in Gibson's old apartment when he broke the news to the girl about her having the chance to move into the WCE building, Bruce claimed before God and everybody that she was his "second protégé" – therefore making her position of absolute importance. And since WCE belonged to his family, the surviving Wayne had every right to allow whomever he chose access to it. Needless to say, it made Gibson out to be some hot shot on campus to the University staff and students, and word spread like wildfire. How could it not? Bruce Wayne was a filthy rich hermit with a foul disposition; almost an urban legend – and now said creature from the haunted halls of Wayne Manor had two teens diligently at his side as if they were pieces to play on a dangerous roster. Any potential threat or ally to the Wayne business name didn't know how to take this odd move except with a twinge of nervousness and cautious acceptance. Max knew it, too – and though she'd never abuse such a power, she had to admit the attention still felt nice.
In any event, the black beauty had been moved into the townhouse since July, and already it was properly furnished to the point Max actually considered this place a "real home". The idea of moving here full time after graduation often tempted the young woman's mind on many occasions, constantly making it hard not to contemplate on that desirable possibility. With every passing day came a newfound peace; and from this newfound peace came an overwhelming sense of pride in all that Gibson had managed to accomplish – and more than anything, she wanted to show the people closest to her just how great things were going and how genuinely happy she was. Max didn't mean to toot her own horn but – BEEP! BEEP! – she deserved the hell out of this happiness and intended on running with and prolonging it as much as "Gotham-ly" possible.
That was how the pink haired brain found herself shimmying through the quaint little kitchen the day before Thanksgiving trying to cook for her expected guests. Maxine Gibson didn't celebrate Thanksgiving in the historical sense. Screw the pilgrims. But she did acknowledge it in a more modern manner that revolved around spending time with loved ones. Holidays for the Gibson household had become pretty much nonexistent since her parents' divorce. In fact, they really never did anything for a holiday anymore – so Max usually spent the days over a friend's house; usually Dana or Chelsea's (although now Tan was gone abroad for college, and Cunningham had a major modeling deal somewhere in New York City). But this was different. For a month now she'd been talking with her parents and sister and planned. All three were going to come over and celebrate the holiday along with her scholarship and house…regardless of their disappointment in Max's major choice of Criminal Justice instead of Medical or Law like they'd wanted. But none of that mattered. Her family was coming! Together! Things were looking up again! Somewhere in the back of the girl's mind was a thought of "what if?" What if things went so smoothly that they did this every holiday? What if her mom and dad actually got along and reignited that fire that died so long ago? What if the Gibson's could actually become a real family again?
"Baby steps, girl," she often had to calm herself with. But that still didn't fight the excitement of such a joyous possibility – despite the fear of being let down again.
Maxine spent all day Wednesday in a pair of sweats and shredded t-shirt cooking her more than generous butt off. By the time night had come the independent black femme was as exhausted as she was radiating with enthusiasm as the college freshman stared at the spread on her wood-like countertops, waiting to be stuffed in the fridge: a large garden salad, 25 lb. turkey, pans of homemade dressing and macaroni and cheese, green beans and sliced potatoes with smoked turkey tips and chopped onions for additional flavor, dinner rolls made from scratch, brown gravy, the two-layered yellow cake with milk chocolate icing, and homemade French vanilla ice cream chilling in the freezer. "You go girl," Gibson whispered to herself in beaming pride.
After putting the food up for the night, Max crawled into her queen sized bed and typed a couple of words into her cell phone before placing it on the night stand and slowly drifting off to sleep: "I can't wait to see you tomorrow." And she really meant it. Just before her eyelids closed in slumber, Max smiled at the black shadow seeming to dance past the bedroom window that faced off into the wooded and private backyard. She thought she heard the barely audible hum of a superior engine as the shadow danced back into sight and hovered momentarily…
Now that he was sure Max was safe, Batman smirked in relief and pulled the throttle, taking the modern Batmobile back into the silent skies and heading for the Cave. Spying on the streetwise genius was completely unnecessary, of course, but he just couldn't help it – old habits die hard. The vigilante was used to popping up on Max during the night at her residence, and often spending way more time there than necessary. It was familiar and safe. He knew her schedule and the schedule of those around her – knowing the best way to get to Gibson if he needed help (or the other way around). But now that Max had moved into the Wayne Family's ancient collegiate townhouse, McGinnis couldn't help but feel a little on edge – especially given the fact that his devoted best friend lived here all alone. With no other tenants – and the townhouse having an entire block completely to itself, buried back on forest-like property – the Dark Knight and best friend found himself checking out the perimeter of her new abode quite often. Even when he had to drop by for "work", there was never a moment when the vigilante wasn't peering out the window, watching the darkened street and surrounding area of the property (as much as was visible) with an intense gaze. McGinnis had been so concerned, that he insisted on Ace staying with Max during her first week in the house after he'd heard about an elderly couple that got robbed about ten minutes away.
Max obviously felt some manner of insult for the blatant lack of faith and trust in her ability to handle her own. Normally she'd just tread it up to "Terry being Terry", but even he couldn't ignore the fact that his persistence and over the top shenanigans in regards to the bad ass's safety started to work the Oracle's nerves. So, just to prove a point and watch McGinnis squirm, Max wouldn't take any of his phone calls if they weren't business related. She even locked the windows so he couldn't get in for two whole nights. LOCKED THE WINDOWS! Still, she conceded to his ridiculous demands – which resulted in Ace never wanting to leave since Max spoiled the hell out of the hellhound. That's when Bruce had to step in. Now it was four months later, and even though Terry stopped his intense guardian sessions, for whatever reason he felt the need to drop by tonight – only to find her sound asleep. Looked like he had nothing to worry about after all. But, while it definitely made the young hero feel better, McGinnis also couldn't shake the flip of disappointment in the pit of his stomach.
"You done?" came a gruff voice on the other end of his communication device. The sarcasm was so real Batman almost felt his insides freeze over.
"What?" he answered innocently with a raised brow and crooked smirk. "I just wanted an early bird plate. I would've brought you one too if you asked nicely." Max was good at many things, but among the top three on that list was cooking – and Terry jumped at any chance of eating one of Max's meals in a heartbeat now that his mother was dating again and constantly out on the town. Mary McGinnis always made enough food to last for a few days, but Terry was getting a little tired of eating pot roast four days in a row.
Bruce huffed irritatingly on the other end. "Shouldn't you wait to mooch off of Max until tomorrow?"
The Bat frowned at that. "I'm not seeing her tomorrow." Even though there was silence on the opposite line, he knew Wayne was expecting an explanation as to why. The teen sighed; cursing himself for openly walking right into this one. "Her parents and sister are supposed to be coming over," he explained dryly with all manner of suggestion in the hero's voice. "So I'm just letting her have her space with them."
As much as he tried to sound nonchalant about it, Terrence McGinnis couldn't fully hide the scowl evident in his voice; or at least, not enough for Bruce Wayne, the original Batman, to not notice. And of course, the old man called him out on it. "Is that so?" asked Wayne through furrowed brows, fingers interlocked in deep thought. "You don't sound very convinced…or pleased."
Terry pushed the throttle a little harder than necessary. "Yeah, well," sassed the protégé through grit teeth, "call it a hunch."
"Care to elaborate?"
"I don't have to. You should know this by now."
"How much I know isn't the point. Obviously you're the one who has a problem that needs to be put out on the table."
McGinnis rolled his eyes as the Batmobile took a sharp left at the back of Wayne Manor's property and made its descent onto the designated roadway that would guide him to one of the Cave's entrances. "It's just-," began the futuristic Bat with mild annoyance. "I don't get why she keeps dealing with this crap! Max's sister, Janet? I can understand. She has a legit job that keeps her away from home a lot even when she clearly doesn't want to be. But Martin and Catherine Gibson? They can't stand the thought of each other so much that they practically abandoned their kids. Janet got that apartment when she was sixteen, Bruce! She got so tired she got emancipated and moved her and Max into their own place. The parents have never been there for either of their kids since the divorce except to give one another hell – yet Max keeps looking out for them like some lost little puppy dog!"
The Cave door rose and disappeared beneath the stone wall as the Batmobile whizzed into the lightened tunnel before coming to a halt and resting on its designated landing pad. The top opened and Batman stood up, leaped over the vehicle's side, and removed his cowl – a deep frown visible on every square inch of his features. "I KNOW they aren't coming, Bruce," McGinnis said positively. "When she first told me about planning to have them over, I let it slip that it was a bad idea, we got into a fight, and she didn't talk to me for almost a whole week!"
At that, Bruce grunted with rare compassion. Ever since Max joined the team (if "joined" was what they were going to call it), she and Terry had very few ups and downs. But when conflict did come? The fights would be rough – like, Clark versus his "younger brother" Conner, rough – sometimes so to the point it was obvious McGinnis had lost all focus on what was going on around him; vigilante or otherwise. Bruce could only assume it was the same, if not worse, for Gibson. "Worse" in the sense of the potential fear she must have felt every night while denying Terry any access to her; knowing that the last harsh moment they shared very well could have been their last. The old man suspected that that was why despite the force behind their confrontations, the two never went longer than a couple days without acknowledging or apologizing to one another. Three was the maximum if it was really bad. But a whole week? Even the thought of that made the usually discontent Bruce Wayne feel a slight flutter of discomfort in what remained left of his husk of a soul.
"I've had to play nice and pretend I believe this will be any different…but it won't," Terry continued with a firm assurance behind the tone in his words, unaware of his boss's momentary thoughts. "It's beyond being a dreg. It's infuriating!" the eighteen year old added, throwing up his hands.
Wayne scoffed as his young apprentice leaned against the computer desk at the old man's side. "So what are you mad at?" pried the teacher to his pupil in apparent boredom as he turned back towards the enormous screen and began typing into its keyboard as a distraction. "That Max is voluntarily setting herself up for more disappointment? Or the fact that she is going to be disappointed in the first place?"
Terry froze. Riddles. Riddles laced with implications. Just great. "What do you mean?" An eyebrow rose.
With eyes his eyes never leaving the computer screen and its contents, Wayne stated, "It's not that complex of a question, McGinnis. Are you mad at her for putting herself in the way of getting hurt? OR, are you mad at her parents because they WILL hurt her?"
"Both! I think…" answered Terry with a damper on his sure resolve, looking down at the ground sheepishly.
Bruce smirked a little, causing a shiver to race across the new Batman's spine. "Seems to me like you're more pissed at yourself for not being able to stop it. I mean, that's what you do for someone you love, right?" Terry's face turned red and Wayne added easily, "Then again – I'm an old man with no friends left alive. And the ones who are, aren't exactly the most thrilled when it comes to seeing me. What do I know?"
Terry bit his lip and walked away from the super computer to begin changing out of the suit. More than I'd like, Bruce – Terry thought to himself as he winced at a sore on his shoulder. Way more.
When Max woke up the next morning, she really just wanted to fall back to sleep until tomorrow. But knowing in a few hours her family would be here in her house is what got her out of bed in a flash. They were coming. She'd given them a month's notice and every week they assured her that despite the difficulties concerning their relationships with one another: the Gibson's would be here for their little girl. That promise had been solidified two days ago when her mom (Catherine) sent a picture of her plane ticket, and her dad (Martin) told her just how much he couldn't wait to see her. Terry had thought otherwise, and even though Max knew he was only looking out for her, she had to admit his lack of confidence in her family left Maxine feeling some type of way. Why? Because even though the boy hadn't said it out loud, Max knew what he was thinking: That she was an idiot for trusting them. That was a laugh. Especially seeing as how based on McGinnis's juvenile delinquent history, people would think (and some still did) Max was an idiot for trusting him. But she did – because she loved him.
Max faltered for a moment – lost completely in thought as she hovered over the side of her bathtub to turn the shower on – at the strange way her belly flipped at that thought. Oh no. Oh hell no. Not again. Trying to push the feeling back into the void where it belonged, Max swiftly turned the knob, threw off her clothes, and jumped readily into the shower; letting the hot droplets of water crash against her as if they would wash away the way she was feeling. Just forget about it, Gibson mentally demands her subconscious. Let it go. She hung her head low and pressed her head into the palm of her hand.
A memory slowly made its way into the forefront of the older teen's mind, eventually overwhelming all sense of time and place – taking Max to another world of faint remembrance, and completely engulfing her into a day from over a month ago. She was leaning her back against the railing of the townhouse's balcony, looking at the tall frame of Terry McGinnis with his shoulder resting against the patio doors. Max remembered how Terry stared at her in adoration; the sound of his voice as he praised the way she looked in her navy blue leggings and matching short sleeve t-shirt, and admired her now slightly hawked pink hair (she let her mane grow out some before cutting the sides down a bit and leaving a full mass of awesome curls up top) – the way he felt when he pulled her into a hug, how comfortable they were moments before snuggled up on the couch before she pulled him to the balcony to watch the leaves with her. They had been laughing and having a pretty good time…until he'd asked what she planned to do for the holiday…
"I was thinking of inviting my parents and Janet over…" Max had admitted softly with almost a faint hint of nervousness concerning his reaction as she looked down to the ground and shuffled her bare feet against the concrete. She knew Terry wasn't the biggest fan of her parents, but had convinced herself it wouldn't be too big of a deal. It was a beautiful autumn day as the trees behind her glowed from the sheltered sunlight in beautiful hues of golds, yellows, reds, oranges, purples, and brief hints of green. Through her dark brown eyes, the wooded grounds surrounding the building flourished in a way that mirrored the grand realm of Lothlórien despite its small acreage. Max didn't know how that was humanly possible (especially in Gotham, of all places!), but she cherished it still. There was even a large stream and bridge further back into the property where Gibson loved to sit and take in the brief moments of calm whenever she could. Not many people knew she was die hard Lord of the Rings fan, so blessings on Bruce for bringing her "home" through mist and shadow…to the edge of night! (Lord, she had it deliciously bad! No regrets.)
Anyways, if Terry had been trying to hide the way he really felt, the young man was doing one salty dreg of a job. By the way his facial expression shifted from shock to irritation so fast, Max knew things were about to go south really quick. McGinnis had hesitated before asking, "…You sure that's a good idea?"
Max bristled a little as her palms on each side of her gripped the railing a little tighter. Her brows narrowed dangerously, warningly; and she was sure Terry saw it. Now, would he heed it…? "I came up with it, didn't I?"
"Yeah, well. Not all of your ideas have been grade A, Max," fired back McGinnis with way more hostility than was necessary, crossing his arms and giving her his signature glare of disapproval.
So he wanted to ignore her warning? Lovable little asshole. "God, Terry…" murmured Max, letting go of the railing and storming past her best friend into the townhouse – not even bothering to apologize when she bumped into his hard shoulder. It hurt, but she wouldn't dare show it.
"What?"
What? What?! Oh how she loved how Terry could start shit and pretend that he'd done absolutely nothing wrong. Gibson paced the living room floor for a brief moment trying to comprehend how or if she should respond before caving in and facing the handsome young hero entirely. "We are not going through this-," she warned herself more than him. Unfortunately, it would not work.
"Seems a little late for that, eh Max?" cut in the vigilante teen sarcastically alongside a roll of the eyes.
Max struggled her damned hardest to ignore that. "I've made up my mind," she said firmly before adding with a sharp layer of hurt and accusation: "Why can't you just support me like a normal friend would?"
Terry's left eyebrow shot so far up it nearly disappeared beneath his devilish black locks. "Normal?" questioned McGinnis incredulously, eyes widening in growing shock at her question. "Max," he had started, approaching the girl slowly with an almost unreadable expression. "You're best friends with the fucking Batman. We fight crime, and risk our lives to keep this crazy city safe." His voice growled as he got close enough that Max backed into the kitchen counter. That's when she felt it at the strongest it had ever been: a shiver of pleasure and fear that shot through her spine with such electrical force that the back of her ears trembled as if his lips were caressing the flesh there themselves; sending unfamiliarly delicious and guilty ripples of sensation that even radiated through her chest…and the sensitized duds resting dead center of them. Max's breasts pumped up and down with each breath as she surrendered herself to the counter. She tried to turn her face away from him, but Terrence's icy blue eyes captured the genius girl fully – almost like a tractor beam. Stuck. Frozen. Captive.
Little did she know that her dear best friend felt the same; that the closer he got, the stronger the urge to press firmly against her became. She was trapped against the wall and he had closed her line of escape. He could have her. He wanted to have her. But things never went the way he wanted. Terry saw her body tense up – he knew that he was intimidating Max to the extreme (possibly among other things), but there was always that brutish side of Terry that he couldn't quite shake. He didn't like the decision she'd made – and damn it, she was going to know how much.
"With everything we do, you and I are the farthest from any spec of normal." He paused before adding in a low voice, "And so is your desperation to make your family work, Max…"
Max stiffened in shock…and then her entire countenance shifted. "Terry," she warned in a low voice, raising up from against the counter and standing her full height against him – causing McGinnis to lean back a little. "Don't you even go there…" She knew exactly what he was talking about.
When Spellbinder had Max in the deadly grip of his virtual reality device, both high schoolers saw firsthand what the lack of her parents around had done to Max over the years. On that night, Terry experienced intimately Gibson's blind urge to feel some remote sensation of happiness in regards to the family dynamic she'd lacked over the years – no matter how false it was. Max, in turn, unwantingly had a door forced open internally to a strange torture and pain she never realized lay dormant inside of her. Spellbinder's grip broke them both; broke Max because of how badly she wanted her family despite knowing that would never be the case; and unbeknownst to her, broke Terry because he knew there was an ache and brokenness within her that he not only didn't see before, but couldn't mend. And as her best friend and someone who cherished her more than he did his own life? That was hell for McGinnis.
"C'mon Max," whined Terry, running his hand through his hair. "Why even set yourself up for that? We both know they aren't coming."
"Get out."
Terry blinked rapidly as she pressed her palm against his chest and began to push him back off of her. Between bringing up the hell of what Spellbinder put her through, and then saying what he just did, she was pissed…and done. He might have gone too far – he knew that – but… "Max, I'm just looking out for you!" exclaimed McGinnis as offense began to take over his senses.
And what a bang up job he was doing. "Whatever," hissed Gibson, weaving her way out from around the boy and standing dead center in the living room. "You're controlling everything – as usual. You may be the Batman but you're still the same dreg who doesn't know as much as he thinks he does. I want to spend a holiday with my family. What's wrong with that? Why do you even CARE?!" she demands, tossing her hand suggestively in his direction. "It's not like I spend the holidays with you. Hell, I'm usually ignoring the holidays to help you! Everybody else spends some kind of time with their families, I just want the same thing. Out of everything I've done, is that so much to ask?"
Terry huffed in frustration and cut her good and deep with his response as his irises stared her down harshly: "Max, you're not a child anymore. And even when you were, your mom and dad were good for nothing then – and just like always, they're going to be good for nothing now." It wasn't long after when Terry immediately realized that that was where he'd crossed the line – and overstepped Max's patience.
Maxine Gibson felt like her long time ace boon had just reached out and shoved her over third floor balcony. She treaded on bare feet across carpeted floor to the front door, turned the handle, and pulled it wide open as she stepped aside. The African American beauty didn't have to utter a single word – her silence was deadly enough. Terry shook his head in disbelief, yet gathered his jacket off the kitchen barstool and walked right past her into the hall where the elevator waited diligently. McGinnis turned to face Gibson's cold face and tried to correct his wrong – though to Max it felt pretty half-assed since they both knew he meant every word – "Look Max, I love you. I just don't want to see you get-!" The door slammed shut, leaving the future hero alone in the hall balancing his emotions between regret and anger.
As Max leaned against the door, a pang suddenly erupted in her chest; a pang of longing and hurt. Every time they fought, these feelings that she had for him only grew and tore her apart because the last thing the Oracle wanted was to push the Bat away. Deep down she knew he was right…and she hated it. She hated that over the years they'd come to understand one another so well. That much understanding was lined with a deep affection they'd been fighting to resist since the day they met because, as far as either of them was concerned, they couldn't be together. McGinnis would never allow it – not after seeing how much this lifestyle could hurt the people close to him. And then Max was pretty positive that he didn't feel so deeply for her anyway. The way Max saw it: if she couldn't have Terry, she at least wanted her family…
The phone in her pocket buzzed, and words danced across the screen beneath his name: Max, I swear…I love you. I'm just trying to protect you.
Max scowled and swiftly texted back: By hurting me? Even if you didn't like it, you could've at least tried to support me. Or you could have disagreed in a waaaay better way than that. I'm tired Terry. I'm tired of never doing what's good enough. I'm tired of always being wrong, even when I'm trying to do what's right.
What felt like an eternity passed before he responded. Max remembered leaning back on the balcony, watching the distant figure of McGinnis finally leave the building and disappear behind a couple of trees before resurfacing seconds later and mounting his motorcycle. Starting it up, he took off towards the front gate. But when he reached it, Terry stopped his bike between the ancient looking, stone columned posts – halting there for a few minutes before glancing back up and over his shoulder at her on the balcony, revving the engine, and turning the corner onto the lightly trafficked street. Her phone had buzzed again; and this time, when Max read the words, she felt her being swell with anger, sadness, and…
Damn it Max. You don't have the slightest clue how much I love you, and it's killing me. It's killing US.
After having thrown on a pair of tan cargo pants and matching crop top short sleeve sweater (accented nicely with a pair of multi-colored feathered earrings), Max had just painted her fingernails and toes a rich plum color when well after three o'clock, Max's phone rang for the first time that day. After that fight with Terry over a month ago, she locked him out for a week. After that, the only time they talked was regarding work – and it was obvious McGinnis was working hard to lighten up her load as much as possible…more than was probably necessary. Even Bruce knew it wouldn't kill them to get an extra hand on a computer keyboard helping out. It wasn't that Bruce couldn't handle it – quite frankly he preferred to be the single dictator as far as that went – but there were a lot of unstable people out there during the holiday season. Just like the post office picked up work, so did the criminal activity levels raise: which meant the Bat Cave was on overtime. Still, Bruce didn't push it; knowing McGinnis would have to fight some battles on his own – especially personal ones like this. Personal ones that only seemed to escalate because certain emotions were being bottled up and unsuccessfully ignored.
Max answered the phone without looking at the caller ID, hoping maybe it was Terry, and that maybe they could put this last quarrel behind them for the sake of her outlook on the holiday. "Hello?"
No such luck. "Max?" came a female voice on the other line.
If it were physically possible for Max's heart to drop, it probably would've shot out her ass in recognition of the person on the phone. "Janet?" Please God. Please, please, please…
"Hey baby," responded her sister in a slow tone. That wasn't a good sign. Janet usually was the always cheerful one – it was constantly evident in her voice; even at times when she didn't have to be. Max's older sister held a certain youthful vigor in the way she talked, whereas Max's linguistics tended to hold a sexier, more mature air. "What are you doing?"
Max swallowed. "Just set all the food out." The teen listed off everything she'd made and felt her shoulders sink in as Janet let out a depressed groan. The older sister wasn't going to be able to make it: apparently she had some really important legal business to handle for her firm and was stuck in Neo-India for another three days. After chatting back and forth and forgiving a thousand and one apologies, the line disconnected and Max sighed and plopped down on the sofa. As disappointed as the younger sister was when the call ended, she didn't blame Janet for not coming. At least she tried…unlike the history of those other two.
Max caught herself with a slap on the wrist. Nuh uh. She was not going to jinx this. Things were going to work out. Maxine grabbed the remote to the television and turned on the device, snuggling back with a pillow to her chest as she watched Batman from the other end of a news camera trying to calm down a situation involving a bank robbery. Things were going to be okay.
…But as the hours rolled by, Max's hope began to diminish to nervousness, and then fury. She bounced her leg and gritted her teeth as she sat on the couch with one knee down and the other pressed against her chest before snatching the phone with impatience and dialing a number as tears threatened to flow over her cheeks. They wouldn't do this to her – couldn't do this to her – not after they promised. The line rang over and over again before going to voicemail. Oh hell to the fuck no! She was not going to be ignored! Max hung up, and swiftly dialed back two more times. When the line finally picked up, the woman's voice sounded shocked. "Max?" The sound of music turned immediately down in the background, causing the youngest Gibson girl to narrow her brows.
"Mom," the college freshman managed to slide out between her teeth like a knife.
"…Everything okay, baby?"
Oh no she didn't. Oh no she hadn't! "Not really," answered the pink haired dame through a tight lipped smile and cock of the head. "You aren't here. What's up with that?"
Catherine Gibson grew unbearably silent – solidifying exactly what Max feared the most…and what Terry had predicted. "Oh…ooooh honey. I – I'm sorr-."
"So you couldn't call?" cut in Max with a demand, her leg going in overdrive. "Just wasn't going to show up, huh?"
Catherine was obviously caught in a lie, but the former ex-Mrs. Gibson was still trying to mend her screw up as if the daughter she'd raised was some kind of idiot. Fortunately for the fed up Max, her mom was doing a horrendous job. "I was meaning to call you," lied Catherine so well that Max almost believed her…almost. "I wasn't feeling well last night-."
"Really?!" scoffed Max, cutting off her mother again. "You weren't feeling well, so you didn't call me to let me know you were sick. To give me some kind of warning? You weren't feeling well, and yet I can't help but notice what sounds like your boyfriend in the background!" The Oracle had been trying to ignore the man's voice on the other line, whispering for her mom to hurry up. He wanted something, and Max knew what – and seeing as how Catherine apparently was so willing to put that need over the needs of her daughter, Max found herself pissed off even more.
"…He's taking care of me…" A weak argument. They both knew it.
"Of course he is," agreed the daughter with a deep frown. "-Helping you spread eagle, I'm sure. Got it."
Her mom tried to gasp in rage as her "black mother" voice turned on, but by this point Max didn't give a hot damn anymore. "Now you better watch your mouth, little girl! I don't know who the HELL you think you're talking to-!"
Maxine held up her hand, stopping her mom right there. "Happy Thanksgiving, mom. Please, just stay where you are from now on. You're best celebrating with new penis – I'm best celebrating alone AS USUAL!" She didn't give her mother a chance to argue. Max didn't want to hear anymore. She hung up, bit her teeth and squeezed her burning eyes shut before looking at the phone and dialing a new number; hoping this wouldn't be the third and final letdown…even though the girl had pretty much come to terms that it would be.
When this line picked up, Max had officially had it. The man that answered was obviously so drunk, Max expected him to die from alcohol poisoning in the middle of their conversation at any minute. He hollered out to silence the wild party and its attendees in the background, but the noise level never changed. "Heh heh," chuckled the man in a slur. "Hellwooo?"
"Dad!" shouted Max: partly because she didn't think he'd be able to hear her with all the ruckus in the background – the other part in the absolute anger she felt directed at him. Both legs were on the ground at this point – both bouncing madly as her face reddened and free hand gripped the girl's forehead in explosive irritation. She was on the verge of breaking; and as much as she was trying not to it was coming and fast…and it wasn't going to be pretty.
"Max?!" shouted back Martin before guffawing and yelling to the others, "HEY Y'ALL! MAX IS ON THE PHONE!" The people hooped and hollered in greeting before Martin gulped something down loudly and asked his baby girl, "You call to wish your papa a Happy Thanksgiving?"
Son of a bitch…"I would've been wishing it to your face, but just like your forgetful ex-wife, YOU'RE NOT HERE!"
Martin paused, and Max could almost picture the drunk look of confusion on his face. "Janet-," he started.
Janet? JANET?! Max was dumbfounded as her drunken father tried it. How dare he bring the older sister into this when he was the one who screwed up? As if Janet was the savior that could wipe away their sins and transgressions of not being here; as if Janet was their saving grace that would make everything better! Unbelievable! "-Isn't coming either!" interrupted the baby girl with a hiss so ferocious, Max sounded unhuman. "SHE has to work. SHE has an excuse! YOU AND MOM DON'T!" Max leapt to her feet and tossed her hand around in gestures that manifested her rage. "I can't believe you! EITHER OF YOU! I slave over a hot stove to try and do something for this...this…NO GOOD FUCKING FAMILY, and as usual it's for nothing!" The tears had spilled over her cheeks at this point as she balanced dangerously on the cliff of her emotional ledge. Terry was right. She didn't want to listen and now look at this mess.
Martin sniffed as if trying to sober himself up. When he spoke next, his voiced held a little more control and care, but Max knew no matter what he said the cycle would never change. There would always be a reason, always be a "sincere" apology that in the end was empty because it would always happen again and again. "Max, honey? If you want, I can still come over and-."
"And do what, dad?!" shrieked the daughter he never had the chance to watch grow with a maddened look of amusement on her face. Her consciousness began to fall…"Get yourself killed on the way or kill someone else? YOU'RE DEADASS DRUNK! No. How about you stay there and enjoy your party? It sounds a hell of a lot more fun than you would've had over here."
"Max…"
That was it. All control was gone as the stability of Maxine Gibson's emotional ground entirely disappeared out from under her feet. She plummeted off the edge into an abyss of smoke that eventually faded into the oncoming darkness. "I AM SO OVER THIS FAMILY!" Max yelled into the phone and to the heavens with an expression that blended sadness, betrayal, and anger uncomfortably well. Gibson was over it – really over it this time. "You guys live your fucking lives as if I don't exist. Well you know what? I don't exist! Happy fucking Thanksgiving. The pilgrims can kiss my ass and SO CAN YOU! I'M DONE! Stay where you are. I don't want to see any of you!" Her finger slammed against the red button to end the call, and Max stood there in the eerily silent home for a moment with her head hiding beneath her upraised folded arms as her frame trembled with unspent emotions; before giving a cry and hurling the cell phone as hard she could in the distance. The sound of the sturdy device crashing against the wall left a cold sense of finality in the air as Max fell onto the ground, raised her knees to her chest, and wept heavily.
Bruce narrowed his eyes at the feedback from the camera in the living room on the large screen, and with a tight lipped frown, pressed a call button on the keypad. Ordinarily the old man would've stayed out of it – if it weren't for the familiar feeling churning in the pit of his stomach. It was the same feeling he'd gotten countless years ago when the billionaire vigilante first saw Dick Grayson and even Jason Todd and Tim Drake alone…when Bruce knew they needed his help more than ever. Though he'd never admit it out loud, Wayne had gotten pretty adapted to having Max around over the years. Without saying anything, Bruce, Terry, Max to an extent, even Barbara, knew she was part of the family…and whether or not he approved of her involvement in this lifestyle, Wayne couldn't ignore that familiar sense of responsibility for her. The old man couldn't be there now, but he knew someone – someone who could be in a way Bruce never could.
The comlink picked up. "Yeah?" answered Batman's voice. He'd just gotten back into the Batmobile and was heading on patrol when Wayne called. The night crusader was expecting news of another incident to look into…not this…
"I'm sending you a vid recording," stated Wayne coldly.
Batman raised a brow, picking up something strange in his predecessor's voice. "Of what?"
Wayne grumbled to himself for a second. "…Max." The old man flinched an eyelid as he picked up what could only have sounded like the Batmobile barely avoiding a crash into a skyscraper.
What in the hell?! "Why do you have a video of Max?!" demanded the Dark Knight hotly, trying to regain control of his lost composure. Bruce didn't even have time to answer when the vigilante groaned knowingly, "Wait…Waaaaiiiit…" Terry pinched his fingers between the bridge of his nose as the futuristic Bat switched controls over from manual to autopilot. Something told the teen the last thing he needed to be doing right now was driving at Mach twipping 3. "Oh God…you bugged her townhouse?!"
"If you want to be technical-," countered Wayne, leaning back into the large chair.
"Getting real sick of your shit, Bruce…"
"-It's my townhouse – and I can do with it what I will."
Terry slapped his forehead. "Damnit it, Bruce – do you have any idea how creepy that is?!" It was obvious that the protégé was severely unhappy with this new information…which was good news for Bruce given the current situation.
Wayne raised a brow and asked questionably, "And this is different from what you were doing a few months ago, how?"
"What if she's…indecent?!"
You'd like that, wouldn't you, kid? Thought Bruce to himself. "Relax, McGinnis," Bruce comforted. "It's not on 24/7. There is an on and off switch. I just happened to turn it on a few minutes ago – and I think you need to see it."
Wayne transferred the file to the Batmobile, and the neo Batman tapped his screen on the control panel once it successfully uploaded to open the attachment. What started out as curiosity transformed to a slew of emotions at what he saw and heard. Guilt, anger. The playback destroyed him. Here was yet another moment when he hated being right. Especially when it involved seeing the results of it upfront. By the time the video stopped playing, the vehicle camouflaged, autopilot was disengaged, and the Batmobile changed direction so swiftly the elder back in the Cave gripped the sides of his chair as if he himself could feel the sharp turn. "Bruce-."
Wayne typed into the keyboard far quicker than someone his age should have been able to; already knowing what his successor was going to ask before McGinnis could form the thought. "The city is pretty quiet. I don't expect things to pick up until later this evening, but I'm sure Barbara can handle that. You've got a few hours, at most."
The throttle pushed even harder as the young hero's voice got tight. "Be sure to keep in touch if things change." It wasn't a request. Damn kid really was becoming like him.
"I always do. And Terry?" added Wayne. "…Pack me a plate…you know…since she made so much. It would be a shame if it all went to waste."
Batman couldn't fight the smile that slowly spread its way across the corner of his lips. As much as he pretended to be otherwise, Bruce was still a softie even after all he'd been through in and outside of the suit. "Got it…"
When the Batmobile arrived to the building of Max's residence, it immediately landed on the rooftop almost without a sound – and when the hood opened up, Terry jumped out in a lightweight black hoodie with the sleeves pulled up to the middle of his arms, a pair of dark blue jeans, and black Timberlands. He was cursing all along the way as the teen made his way to the edge of the roof, assessed the distance, and then dropped down those few feet before landing easily onto the concrete balcony. Rising full height, McGinnis dusted off his arms and gazed inside the home with a hand raised to knock on the glass when he gave pause.
On the living room floor with her back against the couch and knees drawn so close to her chest he wondered how she could even breathe, was Max. She was unmoving; almost not even alive. Her eyes stared ahead at the television screen where some cartoon was playing, and Terrence immediately recognized it as some old show from the early 2000s: Steven Space Kid…Starchild…? Something. All McGinnis could remember was that one of the female alien leads (a woman with a large fro, indestructible gauntlets, and hips to die for) reminded him a hell of a lot of Max for whatever reason: cool, calm, collected…
Ordinarily she would have saw him on the balcony, but even though it was only after six it was dark outside – and Terry wearing black didn't help in making him more visible. McGinnis pulled out his cell and dialed her number – but she didn't even move an inch. That was when he noticed a small glowing object across the room on the floor.
Right…she had thrown her phone. McGinnis took a deep breath and decided to go with the original plan as he tapped on the glass. Max jumped a little and turned. Her eyes widened for a moment – not just because her best friend was standing on her balcony…but because the expression on his face seemed to show the one thing she wished it hadn't: that he knew…and that he was sad about it…for her sake. Max rose to her bare feet with very little thought and walked to the balcony doors, stopping there to stare at him as Terry noted her outfit and couldn't help but think how beautifully comfortable she looked. Her face was drawn, and eyes puffy and red from crying. McGinnis pointed to the door handle so she could let him in.
Max unlocked the door and pulled it open, feeling the cool autumn breeze with a slight tremble. It felt good…too good. McGinnis expected for Max to step back and invite him in, but when she didn't move his brows narrowed in growing concern. "Max?"
"Terry…" she practically whispered, looking down to the ground. "Don't say it."
McGinnis cocked his head to the side and touched her arm. "Say what, honey?"
Max's gaze shot up to him, and fresh tears shined bright in her eyes all over again. He instantly hated himself. "Don't say it-," she said a little more clearly now, voice choking. "-'I told you so'…Please. Just don't."
He wanted to die. Terry's face grew hard as the young man struggled to keep his composure together. A swelling sensation flooded in McGinnis's chest, and the boy nearly completely lost his breath. "Never…" Without another word, Max was against him; her arms were tied tight around his neck, and Terry welcomed her body whole heartedly as guilt ate away at his very soul. "I'm sorry, Max. I'm so, so sorry."
She cried. "I'm such an idiot…"
"Like hell, you are!" Terry growled in fierce disagreement as he reached down and grabbed the girl's thighs and hoisted her up, forcing Max to lightly tie her legs around his waist as McGinnis closed and locked the doors and carried her inside. "You're not an idiot, Max. You're the most shway dame I've ever known. They're the idiots," retorted McGinnis as he made his way over the couch with his best friend still up in his arms. The warmth of her body against his was staggeringly comfortable, and what was more? Was the way he felt being able to comfort her…good. "I'm sorry, Max."
With a sigh, Max unhooked her legs from around Terry's waist and came to stand on her own two feet. Terry yearned to pull her back against him, hating the sudden emptiness he felt when she'd removed herself from him…Max sniffed and wiped her eyes. "You were right. I never should've expected for them-."
But Terry cut her off, taking his hand and cupping it against his best friend's chin; forcing her gaze upwards into his own. He'd be damned before he gave Max the impression it was okay for her to expect this pain because of his own stupidity. She meant too much to him to let that happen. His eyes narrowed softly as Max blinked in slight confusion at the gesture. "Max," he began. "No. I never should've said what I did."
Max raised a brow, not understanding. "But…you were right…"
Terry shook his head. "I was wrong to judge you for wanting to have a normal holiday with your family. I wish I never said anything about it, especially now after knowing how much this was going to hurt you." There was no way that he wasn't going to accept some responsibility for this. Knowing how much he loved her, how could he not feel guilty? Suddenly, McGinnis's body got cold…desperately cold…and it needed heat – heat only she could give. Oh shit. This was really happening. "Max," he breathily stated, body starting to tremor a little as he moved closer. "They missed out. So did I…but not anymore."
It sounded like he-. Max swallowed as her eyes widened. He couldn't have meant what she thought it sounded like, and yet the expectation made her mouth water. The best friend's frame got dangerously closer, and her palms pressed themselves against McGinnis's firm chest. Beneath the hoodie, she could feel his heartbeat skyrocketing at twenty miles a second. Her chest began to pump up and down rapidly as if her own heart was trying to match the speed of his. "Terry…what-?"
"I wasn't the best friend that I could be when it came to being supportive of your wants. I apologize like hell for that," he whispered. "I thought that I was protecting you: from Gotham's villains, from your parents. You know, because that's my job – not just as Batman, but as your best friend…But my intentions weren't always the best. In the end I was still keeping you at arm's length because…because I was trying to protect you from me." Terry grit his teeth, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. When he reopened them, there was a certain fire to those icy blue irises that wasn't there before. His rough hand ran along the small of her back, and their bodies collided together in touch. Max took in a deep breath, and Terry did the same – relishing in the way having her close made him feel. He knew how she felt about him all along – that's why he didn't have to go through a super long and conversational process trying to explain every single detail. All he had to do was get straight to the point…finally, to the point they both had waited for.
"Max. If today is about giving thanks, then I'm beyond thankful for you." He watched as her brows arched upward in a new emotion that pleased him to give her. "When I say, 'I love you' – I love our friendship. I love the way you laugh and smile. I love when you put me in my place—," they both snickered momentarily, "—and I love how you receive correction as well as you give it. I love that you have drive and passion. I love that in spite of all the hell you've been through, you can still remain so lighthearted. I love how you are always there for me – even when I tell you I don't need you to be. I love how you're smart and kickass and tough as nails when you don't take anyone's shit; but I also love how you can be so compassionate and willing to sacrifice everything you have to help someone else. I love how you see things so clearly – the good and bad – and how you…just…do everything that you do."
His face leaned forward as Terry pressed his forehead against Max's. Her arms went up from the boy's chest to around his neck; one hand over his shoulder, the other tangling into his hair. "When I say, 'I love you'," Terry continued it. "I mean it in every single way possible…always have. I just didn't want to believe it. And when I did believe it-."
"You fought it to protect me," cut in Max all knowingly, a soft smile spread across her lips. They both knew the dangers that lied within his vigilante lifestyle; they also understood it to the tee. It was why neither tried to push anything. Every single day, Terry saw how much danger he put Dana or his mom and brother or his friends in when trouble came too close to home. He saw it, and learned to do everything possible to make sure it didn't happen again. Even when he and Dana broke up, Terry diligently did everything to protect her not just because she was someone who needed it, but because she was still his dear friend. McGinnis strived even harder to make sure his mother and Matt didn't have the chance of suffering at the hands of Gotham's maniacal fools despite Bruce telling him how much of an impossibility that was. Max's hand massaged the base of his scalp as silence passed between them for a moment. "This day was hard…" she finally whispered, tilting her head upwards a little as she rubbed her nose against his.
"I know…" McGinnis agreed with a soft chuckle at the gesture before returning it. "I'm sorry you were let down – but I'm not sorry about being here right now, with your arms around me like this."
Max hummed. "But I guess it's ending on a good note – with you here…Maybe this was all I needed after all…Just you."
All she needed…He couldn't fight it anymore. "Max?" He pulled back and stared at her for a good moment before leaning in. Max bit her bottom lip and closed her red eyes, tilting her head slightly as his approach and need became imminent. Her grasp around him tightened as one of his hands rested on the crown of her buttocks, pulling her closer, and the other played along her spine. Max stood on her tiptoes and thrust her body softly against him, pulling McGinnis forward. The closeness was electrifying as need started to become unbearable. Terry whispered her name, gripping her soft and toned rear end as Max let out a sigh that mingled intimately with a desiring moan. Just a little closer…
A knock on the door tossed the two young adults out of their private world as if the Earth itself had shifted forcefully on its very axis. It gave them pause as Max looked to the entryway and then to Terry in shock. With an apologetic look, she traced her hands down from the length of his shoulders and muscular arms until her palm clasped itself against his before pulling from him. He held onto her hand as long as he could before distance eventually tore them apart. McGinnis let out a dramatic whine of disappointment as Max reached the front door. When she opened it, Gibson gasped in shock. "Bruce?!" Terry nearly lost consciousness.
Max took a step back, inviting to the old man, "Come in! Come in!" Bruce obliged, Ace trotting strictly at Wayne's side until he caught a glimpse of Max. The Great Dane's tail began to wag slowly as some of his training slipped away and he crept towards her, desiring some affection. Max chuckled and knelt down, gently rubbing the dog on his head and kissing his forehead. Terry scowled internally. Jealous of damn dog…
"Bruce," asked Terry as he approached and took Wayne's coat and tossed it over the nearest counter, "what are you doing here?"
Wayne made his way over the couch and slowly sat down with a soft grunt, still clasping dutifully to his cane. "I thought I'd get an 'early bird plate'," the old man teased. "You speak so highly of Max's cooking. Figured I'd judge that for myself." He raised a brow and McGinnis chuckled. The old man was watching them…
Meanwhile, Max gasped at the mention of food – forgetting that she had an entire dinner sitting out in the kitchen. Without second thought, Max stood to her feet and began setting plates on the dining room table. Terry raised a brow. "Max?"
Now she was moving the pans and pots of food next, causing McGinnis to dash over and help her; groaning a bit at the weight of the pot filled with green beans. "Terry, what's your mom and Matt doing tonight?"
Terry blinked. "Mom was sick for the past couple of days, so she didn't cook-."
"Invite them over!" Max smiled up at him and looked over at Bruce. "Is that okay with you, Bruce?"
Wayne's lips curved up at the corners. "It's your house. I see no reason why not."
Max took Terry's hand and when he looked at her she grinned. "I want to spend the holiday with my family." She looked back at Bruce and winked, "My whole family." Bruce's heart nearly skipped a damn beat. "If anything, I'm the most thankful for all of them – for you. Shway?"
McGinnis shook his head in happy bewilderment. Would she ever stop amazing him? "Shway."
Max stood up on her tip toes and gave Terry a quick kiss on the cheek. "Oh and Bruce?" she cooed.
"Hmmm?" answered the old man as Ace came to sit next to him, begging for a rub.
Max smirked. "I'm going to find that camera eventually. Just letting you know…"
Bruce's expression matched hers of pure amusement. Yeah. She really was a part of the family. "Well," returned the former Batman. "May the odds be ever in your favor."
Terry leaned against the countertop and pulled out his cell phone, dialing the house to invite his mother and Matt over to Max's. All the while he just kept thinking to himself: Nope. She never would stop amazing him. And Terry was looking forward to that.
The End.