WHOOOO CHRISTMAS as promised!
Just a reminder, this is a one shot and is self contained and picks up very shortly after the last arc. I'm working on the next arc, which is going to be a bit tricker than originally planned so it might take a bit longer.
Disclaimer: I own nothing at all, except the canon divergences here and there.
"Have yourself a merry little Christmas/ Let your heart be light/From now on/ Our troubles will be out of sight/ Have yourself a merry little Christmas/ Make the Yuletide gay/ From now on/ Our troubles will be miles away..." Hugh Martin and Ralph Blane"Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas"
6 days until Christmas
Rose wakes to the sound of...well...that's just it; it's too quiet. She cracks open her eyes to snow drifting across the windowpane between the blinds. She sits up slowly, gathering the sheets up and leans back against his headboard.
She should get up. She should shower. She should get to work. Rose's full of shoulds this morning but the covers are warm still and there's the lullaby of snow drown them out. The clocks on the walls thrum almost in time with the sound of the coffeemaker making it's final few roars and Monroe padding around downstairs. It's almost enough to put her back to sleep. That is until she hears him come up the stairs. He pauses in the doorway, "I didn't wake you up, did I?"
"Kinda," she shrugs, pulling her hair up and out of her face. "But I should get up anyway. If the roads aren't bad, I should head to the shop..." She glances over at him to see him leaning against the doorframe, smiling. "What?"
He shakes his head, smiling wider.
"What?" She asks again.
"It's just nice to see you there. Happy...relaxed."
"You mean in your bed, wearing almost nothing?" She tilts her chin up for a kiss as he walks over and settles against her drawn up knees, hands settling on either side of her waist. She'd been back in town for a week and they fell into place as though nothing had interrupted them.
"Something like that." He smiles, kissing her once. "Good morning."
"Good morning." She breathes back. "What time is it even?"
"Almost eight."
"No..." She sighs and runs her hands up his arms to try to pull him in farther. "No... no," she kisses him just under his jaw. "It's too early and it's cold and the roads are bad..." She kisses him again and lets her fingers tangle through his hair. "Let's go back to bed..."
"You don't even know if the roads are bad," he murmurs back, leaning into her pull for just a moment longer than he should have.
"Leibling, this is Portland and there are literally two snow plows in the whole city." She replies with a grin. "Of course the roads are terrible." But he kisses her back.
He laughs. "As much as I would like to, can't. Just got a big order in and I've got to get to work..."
"So, I'm a distraction?" She teases.
"No...well, yes...but," he hands her phone over. "It's been going crazy."
"Crap, I forgot I left it down there." She flicks through the screen to see a voicemail flashing. Her heart leaps into her throat, her hand to her mouth at the caller ID.
"What's wrong? Should I have left it?"
"No," she grabs his hand. "No, it's a voicemail from...my mom."
"I thought you didn't have contact with them?"
"We email mostly; Mom and me. Just enough so she knows I'm alive. I haven't actually exchanged words with DeEtta, verbal or digital, in seven years."
"Rose–"
"I should listen to what she has to say, shouldn't I? I mean she made the effort this time..." She looks up at him. "And it wasn't DeEtta..."
"You should do what you want," he replies. " There's coffee downstairs whenever you're ready." He kisses his forehead.
Rose sits back against the headboard and turns it on. "Hi Rosie," her mother's voice cracks a little over the connection. "Now that you're back in Oregon, DeEtta and I were wondering if you'd want to come down for Christmas. It's been so long I thought...well, I thought we would visit your Dad. Anyway, call me back...and let me know...I'd- I mean we'd like to see you." Her mother draws in a deep breath. "Please, honey, call me back..."
Rose turns off the phone and presses the edge of it to her chin in thought for a moment. She can't even remember the last time she was in a room with her whole family after her father died. After while ,the dark pit the Jay left her in was just easier than their accusatory stares and biting judgment. And it was DeEtta that was the ringing voice: "I can't believe how selfish you are! Don't you care about mom?! And what all this worry is doing to her? Don't you care about anyone but you?"
In a fit of stupid courage, she brings up her mom's information and her thumb hovers over the button.
Even now, the guilt pours over her in waves deep enough to drown in but she just won't. She remembers though, the last time she saw her mother- slumped against the cold hospital wall, head in her hands. And Rose knew she was too late to say goodbye to her father.
She stood down the hallway from her mother; doctors and nurses passing between them as though neither existed. And the chasm that had been growing since she started sneaking out, widened so far Rose couldn't cross it. She couldn't go to her mother. She didn't deserve to. So she turned and ran as far away as fast as she could. The voicemails, which before were regular and increasing in worry, became sporadic until the line went completely dead between them.
And now she could, if not undo then at least, try to repair the damage she wrought. She could say the words she should have said so long ago: "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."
In the end, she clicks out of the call and goes down stairs.
He's still reading the paper, clearly waiting for her. She stops suddenly, at the sight of piles and piles of boxes in the living room that wasn't there last night. Or at least that she could remember. To be totally honest, she hadn't been paying that much attention to the living room, noticing only that Nick was not around and wouldn't be for the next twenty-four hours.
"So?" Monroe greets her.
"They want me to come for Christmas. Well, Mom does, I don't really know about DeEtta."
"That's...great?" he tries, but notices her frown.
She shrugs. "Christmas isn't my thing."
"So, you're not going?"
She shrugs again. "I hate Christmas, so I doubt I'm going to be much fun." She insists. She glances in the living room. "You wanna explain the boxes?"
"That's all Christmas stuff. I thought maybe we could put it up together..." He grimaces. "That's is until I found out you hate Christmas...just now..."
She hangs her head. "It's...sort of like Paris. After my dad got sick, I couldn't look at either of my parents. I picked the wrong people and I just couldn't watch my dad..." She shakes her head. "It didn't matter because he died on Christmas day. And I did not handle it well... so it's not necessarily 'the most wonderful time of the year' for me. It's better if I just go into hibernation."
"Rose, look, I'm sorry."
"You didn't know,' she breathes. "But I'm going to head out. It's just going to be one of those days, I can feel it." She kisses his cheek.
"You're sure you're not mad?" he catches her by the wrist as she goes to leave.
"Not at you." She assures him.
4 Days until Christmas
Despite her dirge-like cough, Malena rockets around the shop like usual. Until she skids to a sudden stop in front of Rose, head tilted to one side and wonders, "Where's Monroe?"
"He has his own work, Kiddo." Rose replies, smiling, as she measures out a generous amount of rosehips to add to Malena's new batch of tea. "He'll still come in and help me out but not all the time."
Malena flings her head back in exasperation and makes a sound like a deflating balloon before schlumping around the shop in disappointment.
"Looks like I've been replaced in her affections," Rose jokes with Amelia.
Amelia laughs. "Malena's going through this phase where she's fascinated with Egyptian Mythology. Like, it's all she wants to read about, talk about."
"She's eight."
Amelia shrugs. "I don't know. Ever since we did a unit on the ancient civilizations, she's been all about this god and that god and this goddess. "
"Does she know who the gods actually were?"
"Not yet, Garrett and I thought we'd wait until she was a little older, gone through the change and all, before we told her the real stories. " Amelia sighs. "But it gets her to read more, so I'm all for it. And someone else besides me wants to talk about different mythologies with her, so I'm glad." Amelia glances over at her daughter. "She's such a weird kid."
"I am not!" Malena retorts. "I'm smart! Monroe said so."
"Of course you're smart, Baby!" Amelia laughs. "But you are a little strange"
"What else did Monroe tell you?" Rose wonders as Malena wanders back to them.
"He told me that I would like reading stories about Loki and Thor and Frigga. They're Vikings! And Loki turns into a horse!"
Rose giggles, chancing a glance at Amelia.
"Well, he does!" Malena rolls her eyes.
"I'll tell Monroe that you were missing him, okay?" Rose promises.
"Thank you." Malena coughs into her elbow and disappears around another bookshelf.
Amelia taps Rose's hand. "You okay?"
"Yeah...just family stuff, you know?"
"It's good you're back in time to spend Christmas with your family." Amelia says quietly. "I hate to think that I might have to spend a Christmas without her at any age." She nods toward Malena who's fascinated by a jar that's caught the rare winter sun and the pattern its content makes on the floor. "Even when she's twenty and got her own life."
"Miss Rosie, what did you ask Santa for?" Malena wonders as her mother helps her into her coat.
"Oh Kiddo, Santa only brings presents for kids. Not for grown ups."
Malena's brow furrows in confusion. "Santa brings presents for Mommy and Daddy every year."
"Well maybe I've been on the naughty list?"
Malena laughs as her mother sets her jaunty red cap on her head. "That's so silly, Miss Rosie. You couldn't be on the naughty list, you're good."
She smiles. "Thanks, Kiddo. Merry Christmas." She waves as they leave. As soon as they're gone, Rose digs her out her phone. With Malena's words ringing in her ears. Rose dials her mother's number. But it didn't stop her from praying that it would go to voicemail.
"Hello?"
No luck apparently.
"Hi, Mom...it's Rosie." She winces at her use of her childhood name.
"Rosie," her mother echoes. "Oh, I thought maybe you wouldn't call back."
"Sorry, I just wanted to be sure that I could come. I won't be able to be there until Christmas Eve...if that's okay."
"Anytime would be good, honey. Anytime."
1 Day before Christmas
The house is still butter yellow even after all these years, she notes from sitting in the driveway. The bottle of wine sits in the seat next to her and she's tempted to take a few swigs for courage. But it won't help, and would only make everything worse.
Monroe offered to come along when she told him the night after Malena's visit. "I could be a buffer, you know, keep everyone from killing each other."
She poured more wine in her glass. "As much as I would love that, this is something I have to do myself. Besides, DeEtta had this habit to scare off all my boyfriends. She can be..."
"Intense?"
"A bitch. I guess it sort of goes with being the oldest."
He stopped and looked over at her. "So...boyfriend?"
Rose grinned up at him. "All of that and that's the only thing you can glean from it?" She ran her hands up to his face to pulled him down for a kiss.
"Well, it's important," he replies quietly.
"Fine but if you ever call me 'babe', remember that I know ten ways to kill you with a popsicle stick."
"Only ten?"
She shrugs. "Alexander knows twenty but he would only teach me ten."
Just as she's about to ring the doorbell, the door opens.
"Rosie..." Her mother breathes. "I thought I heard a car."
Her mothers face is line and paper pale in the sunshine. There are thick streaks of silver shot through her auburn bob. If Rose isn't mistaken, she's a few inches shorter than Rose remembers. She keeps her hands folded in front of her and Rose notices how swollen her knuckles are and how stiffly her mother holds them.
"Hi Mom," Rose breathes out, unable to really believe this moment is actually here. Say it, she thinks. Say it now before you chicken out.
Her mother smiles. "You have perfect timing. We're getting ready to eat."
Rose pulls the bottle of red out of her bag. "I guess I do."
Her mother leads her inside her childhood home, asking "Where'd you get it?"
"Paris. When I was there last month." Rose replies, taking it all in. As they walk from foyer to living room, Rose stops suddenly in the middle of the room, happy to see no Christmas decorations and a little glad she's not the only one who can't stand the sight of them. Nothing else has changed. The gauzy curtains on the window still hang, gone a little yellow with age and sun exposure. The books haven't even changed order in the years since she left. But there are new knick-knacks here and there. Photos of her mother and sister at the beach, in San Francisco. Her heart hammers against her ribs at the sight of her parent' wedding photo staring back at her.
On top of the bookshelf sits a watch she had not seen in years. And beneath it a single circle of gold; her father's wedding band.
"It doesn't work anymore." Her mother notices her staring. "Now, it's just become a part of the room."
"I know someone who can fix it for you." Rose offers. "If you want."
Her mother shakes her head. "Is it someone you met in Paris?"
"Paris?" Her sister's voice echoes through the hallway. When they get to the kitchen, DeEtta's orchestrating at least four pots like always. DeEtta got all the cooking genes anyway. She stands in the center of the kitchen, hand on hip, a wooden spoon in the other, her blonde hair pulled out of her face in a messy top bun. "Hey Rosie."
"Hey Dee, " she calls back.
"It's been a long time." DeEtta goes to the biggest pot and pours its contents into a collider in the sink. "Mom said you took over the business. How is it?"
Rose flips her coat off. "It's good, I guess. Lots of lists." So far, so good.
DeEtta turns from her task and nods. "Help Mom with the wine."
Rose finds her mother holding the cork and grimacing. "Here, Mom." Rose plucks it from her mother's stiff fingers. "How are your hands?"
"There are good days and bad days." Her mother shrugs as Rose pops the cork. "My knees have gotten worse though. I do mostly lecturing now at the community center. From a chair." She grins but Rose can see she misses it.
They grew up on stories of their mother on her trusty bike on the streets of Amsterdam, flitting from one home birth to the next; even the day she almost ran other their father, their mother didn't stop for more than a moment or two to be sure she hadn't killed him on accident.
"So she dashed off and I had to track her down through every channel I could find." Their father used to laugh. "All my friends thought I was crazy, chasing after a girl who nearly killed me. But I knew."
She had delivered more babies than they could count on their fingers and toes combined, and more still when their parents (plus five year old DeEtta) returned to the states. But now with the Rheumatoid arthritis setting in, her days in the field were over.
"I could have sent you something to help. I could make up-"
"Dinner's ready." DeEtta announces, pushing past Rose balancing several bowls in his hands. "Mom and I always have pasta on Christmas Eve." DeEtta explains.
"It's nice to keep some sort of tradition," their mother sits between the two of them while Rose brings the wine glasses and bottle. "Even if we can't bring ourselves to carry on some of the others."
Dinner isn't so bad. DeEtta stays quiet for the most part while their mother asks about the shop and her life in Portland. But it's not until later when they're cleaning up (really DeEtta and Rose) that their mother asks the dreaded question: "So, are you seeing anyone?"
"Sort of."
DeEtta says nothing and drinks deeply from her glass, as if steeling herself for what's to come next. Rose tries not to blame her. After all, Rose brought home a parade of terrific losers in the past, each one worse the last.
"What's he like?"
"He's nice...a little eccentric," Rose grins to herself. "But he owns his own business and he's been helping me out in the shop a bit here and there. He covered for me when I had to go back to Den Haag."
Her mother smiles. "So do we get to meet him?"
"If you want... I suppose." Rose smiles back. "Though, I guess I should warn you now, he's not a Fuschbau. He's a Blutbad..."
DeEtta snorts into her glass. "Are you serious, Rosie?"
"Yeah, I am. He's a good guy. He's not like the others."
"That's what you said...several times actually." DeEtta chuckles.
"I was wrong before." Rose admits.
"Well, then," DeEtta smirks and takes a swig of the wine. "And it only took you ten years to figure your shit out."
"DeEtta–" their mother starts.
"It did." Rose snaps back. "Not all of us can be as perfect as you are. Some of us make mistakes."
"Just have to keep touching that stove, don't you?" DeEtta snarls.
"I haven't touched the stuff in almost four years," Rose replies. "I worked for the Council, I took on Freddy's store. I've figured things out just fine without you. Is that what makes you so pissy?"
DeEtta stands. "You left us alone...You left us when we needed you! You ran!"
And it's true. She can't say it wasn't because that's exactly what she did. She ran, far and fast and with every intention to be lost. DeEtta standing before her, waiting for the answer; the face of all of Rose's guilt all these years ."What do you want me to do?! Go back in time?" Rose retorts, forgetting that her mother is there. "Because I wish I could. I wish it all the time! I wonder what my life would be like I hadn't run away from the hospital! But, Jesus Christ, Dee, I can't! I can't undo this!"
"Rosealee," Their mother starts calmly, she folds her hands together awkwardly. "Were you there...?"
Rose nods. "Yeah...yeah, I went after you called. But I didn't make it in time. And I– I just couldn't..."
"So you think you can just waltz back into our lives after we dealt with all that?" DeEtta growls, stepping in front of their mother "You think you can come back now after that? Just come prancing back like nothing happened-"
"Dad died!" Rose cried. "Of course something happened!"
"But you couldn't be there then? When we actually needed you?!" DeEtta spat.
"And where would I have fit?!" Rose shoots back. "Where? Listening to you telling me things I already knew? That I fucked up? That I broke everything?!" Rose pushes back from the counter. She grabs her jacket, purse and keys, cursing this whole thing. She stops in the living room, looking back at them. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry." She lets out. "I'm so, so sorry for everything..."
Rose pulls the photograph she's carried all the way from Den Haag out of her bag and sets it beside her parent's wedding photo. She gives the room one last look before heading out the door.
His house is dark when Rose gets back. The wind's picked up something fierce and all she wants is to be is in bed, in the quiet. She scoots the planter to reveal the spare key, just where he told her it would be, in case she ever needed it.
Nick's still up, hunched over his laptop when she comes in. "Hey...I thought you were staying with your mom for a few days."
" 'Thought' being the operative word here." She growls and removes her coat and shoes.
"Should I even ask how it went?" He wonders. "I mean, Monroe said you hadn't seen them in a while and you might be...edgy."
"It went." She sighs.
"That bad?" he winces.
She nods. "It was stupid. I shouldn't have gone. I should have just..." There aren't any Christmas decorations here either. "What...what happened? I thought-"
Nick shrugs. "Neither of us have been in very festive moods."
"Juliette still hasn't come around?"
"Nope. And Monroe's been moping since you left...so..." Nick throws up his hands. "Merry Christmas to all of us, I guess."
She casts a glance up at the ceiling. "Is Monroe here?" Not that it would matter much either way. She can't go back to her apartment; too many memories.
"Yeah, he went to bed like three hours ago." Nick turns back to her computer. "He's impossible when he mopes. His cooking suffers...a lot."
"I'll do what I can." She promises. She goes to the stairs but stops half way and turns back. She leans over the harsh glow of the computer screen and kisses his cheek. "Merry Christmas Nick."
"Merry Christmas, Rosalee." He replies quietly as she climbs the stairs, pulling off her outer layers the whole way. She slips into his dark room and drops her clothes in a pile by the bed. She climbs in beside him and curls in close. He doesn't twitch until she slips one hand around his waist from behind and settles her face between his shoulder blades. Like before, she tries to match her breathing to his. The steady thud of his heart, soothes her racing one and just as she's about to drop off..."Rose?"
"Mmhh?" She replies.
He exhales. "I thought for a second you were Nick."
"Does Nick come keep you company on nights that I don't stay?" She wonders with a small smile. "Should I be jealous?"
"Well, he is a Grimm after all," he replies.
She presses her cheek to his shoulder. "Ugh, I don't even want to laugh."
"That bad?" his hand creeps up and rests atop hers.
"I just want to lay here with you until my head stops spinning."
"What happened?"
She shakes her head. "I don't know; everything?" He starts to turn over, and she pushes back. "No, don't. If you look at me, I'll probably cry."
"Rose..."
"I'll have to face this, I know. But for tonight," she re-settles her cheek against his shoulder. "I just want to be with you." She squeezes her eyes closed tight and hopes for no nightmares.
Christmas Morning
In the morning, he brings the coffee up to her. When he settles next to her again, half under the covers and leaning against the headboard, she leans against his chest and grips the mug with both hands. "On the one hand, I wish you could have come to meet my mom."
"I told you I would have gone."
"But it was for selfish reasons only."
"Which are?"
"That I've moved on from the rough patch and that I can make respectable choices."
"I'm respectable?"
"Liebling, you have a successful business, you own your own house, you're a goddamn vegetarian and you don't spend your weekends binging on Jay, so yeah. Respectable."
"Well, we spend our weekends helping a Grimm. Not so sure that's something to brag about."
"I did not touch that one with a ten foot pole."
"So, they didn't believe you when you told them or...? You've gotta give me something more to go on than 'everything.'"
She sighs, head hung low. "DeEtta was...herself. And they way she looked at me. Like I was a stranger. And all the things she was saying..."
He says nothing, just runs his finger up and down over her arm, over the scar on her shoulder.
"She was right, of course. I ran because I wasn't strong enough to handle it. I wasn't there for them when they needed me." She whispers. "It's what I am."
He sets his hand against the back of her head, thumb running through her hair. "It isn't. But maybe trying to spend this much time with your family was too much, too soon?"
She nods.
"You can't expect them to just suddenly see you differently. It's going to take a while." He reasons.
"Yeah, I know."
"And they will. Just give them time."
"Do your parents? Do they...get it?"
He chuckles. "My parents are a horse on an entirely different end of the color spectrum."
She rests her cheek against his shoulder and sighs. "It's Christmas morning, isn't it?"
"It is. What do you usually do?"
"Find the nearest liquor store." It had become a sort in barely tolerable cruelty, getting through this day. Drinking games had suddenly become very good ideas in the week leading up to the day. And usually, she spent it alone, for fear of dragging someone else into her gloom.
He sighs. "I know you don't usually celebrate, but I got you something... before I knew. And I'd hate for it to go to waste."
"No..." she whined. "No, you didn't." But sets her coffee cup on the bedside table, knowing there was no way out of it.
"Aren't you going to fight me on this?"
"I don't fight you on everything." She insists.
One eyebrow rises in doubt. Really? He seemed to say.
"Fine. Yesterday was pretty shitty and you're being nice, so I'll take whatever affection I can get." She retorts as he hands her a small wrapped rectangle. She tears it apart the layers to find a framed picture of the two of them, walking hand in hand, totally absorbed in each other's company. She gaps, trying to place it in her memory.
"It was Nick. He snuck a picture of us at the airport and sent it to me."
Rose runs her thumb only the far edge in silence.
"Look, I know you hate Christmas and all and I just thought that-"
She presses a hand to his mouth. "It's been a very long time since someone gave me a Christmas present."
"So it's good?" he mumbles against her fingertips.
"It's wonderful." She assures him, working hard to keep the tears out of her voice. "Now I just feel like an asshole for not getting you anything."
He slips his arm around her shoulder and pulls her in close. "You're here now, Liebling. That's all that matters."
It turns out to be one of her better Christmases; they sit at the little round dining room table, eating Indian take out and throwing bits of naan at each other when they get tipsy on the beer Hank brings with the take out. No one actually says the "C" word, or talks about family or lack thereof. No one acknowledges the time of year or season, or that fact that the rain's returned and it's turned all the snow to slush. Inside, it's warm and full of laughter. Rose leans her warm cheek against Monroe's shoulder; his hand never leaves her knee. As if to remind her that she is wanted and needed here, whatever else may have transpired. It's enough to make her want to cry for a different reason all together.
2 days after Christmas
"...And they never stay in a hotel," Monroe complains as he helps her go through all of her loose-leaf tea ingredients. "They always stay with me and, you know, Nick is there and...I just really don't want to have Nick kill my parents." He sighs.
"I don't know if I'm the best person to ask for advice on handling parents," Rose replies. "As you could tell by my total meltdown. But Nick and your parents in the same house does not sound like a great idea." She runs her hand across his shoulders as she passes him by. "Maybe try to hold them off until we get this whole Nick/Juliette debacle figured out?"
He shrugs. "I can try."
"Give me two seconds, I need to grab a few things from the back." She calls out as she disappears. As she's gathering her lists of orders to fill, she hears the bell above the door chime. And Monroe sticks his head in the door a few moments later, panic written all over his face. "What's up?"
"Um...So...Your Mom and sister are asking for you."
"What? Like on the phone?" She grabs a beaker from the cabinet for the first order.
"No...as in they're in the shop...right now."
Rose sets the beaker back down on the counter. "Right now right now?"
"Yeah, right now."
She takes a deep breath to steady herself. And follows him back out to the front. DeEtta and their mother stand in the center of shop, waiting. "Hi Mom..." she waves. "DeEtta. I didn't know you were coming."
"I couldn't leave things as they were," her mother starts, holding her hands out to Rose.
Rose shakes her head. "I-I'm so sorry, Mom. About how I ruined everything."
She presses her hands to Rose's cheek. "Oh, Sweetheart. You didn't ruin things. I missed you...so much." She loops her arms around Rose before she has the chance to run again. "We were so worried about you. We were so scared..."
Rose rests her forehead against her mother's collarbone, like she used when she was young. She hugs her mother as hard as she dares, taking in the scent of her perfume that she hasn't smelled in years. "I was scared too." Rose admits in a small voice.
"Is this him?" DeEtta chimes in suddenly.
Rose straightens up and wipes her eyes. She turns to the counter, smiling at Monroe. "Yeah. It's him. De, Mom, this is Monroe, my...boyfriend. Monroe, this is my sister DeEtta and my mom."
As he comes around the corner to shake both of their hands, DeEtta scowls as she's always done. "It's nice to meet you finally." He tells her.
"Yeah," her eyes narrow, taking him in. "You too."
He moves on to her mother without another thought. "Rose told us that you own your own business." Thank God for her mother, Rose thinks as Monroe launches into his job with the usual amount of enthusiasm. She can't help but smile as her mother drinks in every word, laughs in all the right places.
DeEtta grabs Rose's arm and motions to the door. "Give us a second," She excuses them and follows DeEtta out the door. They duck under the eaves, out of the rain as DeEtta digs through her purse.
"What is this about?" Rose demands while DeEtta emerges with a pack of secret cigarettes and a lighter. "I thought you quit."
DeEtta pulls one out and lights it. "God, I've been waiting for that for like the last two days." She offers it to Rose, like she used to when Rose was fifteen, and pretended not to notice their ten-year age gap. "Mom's been beside herself."
Rose takes a pull, she shouldn't but it's almost a month since the last one. "I am sorry, you know. I really am. And I wish I could change it."
DeEtta smiles softly. "Yeah, I know. I can see it. I just..." She shrugs. "God, Rose. When you fuck up, it's pretty epic-" Just as Rose is about to throw the cigarette to the ground in protest, DeEtta wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "I guess you learned it from me."
And that's the closest thing to an apology she's ever going to get, so Rose hands the cigarette back over. She'll take what she can get.
"He's a complete nerd, you know. Like a complete and total nerd. And sooo Portland...Where the fuck did you find him?"
"Where'd you think, dummy?" Rose reverts to the name they used to call each other. "Here. And I happen to like that he's nerdy."
DeEtta takes a short inhale and lets it out again. "You can't have kids with him, Rosie. Jesus!"
"Why the fuck not?" Rose hisses right back. "Don't tell me it's because of that purity shit. You know Uncle Henry was a Jagerbar."
"No, I'm not talking about that, dummy."
"Then what?" Rose snatches the cigarette back from her sister. "Because he's the best guy I ever dated and Mom already likes him and he-"
"Have you seen the size of his head? Good God, Rosie! If you have one of his kids you'll be in labor for weeks trying to push that baby's head out of your ho-ha!"
Rose stares at her sister for a moment and then dissolves into a fit of giggles, barely able to hold the lit cigarette straight. "Oh my God, please! Please, if you ever say that in front of Mom, please record it so I can see her face when you say 'ho-ha' to her!"
"It's true though," DeEtta insists.
Rose sucks down another drag to calm down.
"Oh...my God..." DeEtta steals it back. "You're serious about this guy; you want to have his babies!"
"Will you shut up!?" Rose smacks her sister's arm, trying to hush her. "We haven't even said 'I love you' to each other yet, let alone talked about babies!"
DeEtta grins. "Oh but he loves you." She sing songs
Rose rolls her eyes.
"Has he seen you in the morning before your coffee? Or when you eat Chinese takeout? Because it's not pretty. Or has he seen you when you talk to yourself? Because if he has and you two are still together, pretty sure it's because he loves you."
Rose flicks ash off the end of the cigarette. "Does it even matter if I love him?"
"Of course it does, Rosie..." DeEtta replies in an oddly reassuring way. "Do you?"
She shrugs. "I might. I...Jesus Dee, sometimes I feel like I don't know what word even means."
"Hey," DeEtta drops the cigarette and stamps it beneath her boot. "We maybe a broken, fucked up family or whatever...But we loved each other then and we love each other now. You know what it means." She wraps Rose up in a fierce hug. "You may be a dummy, but you're not stupid."
"Thanks...I guess." Rose replies. "We should go back inside, though. They might be missing us."
DeEtta waves dismissively. "Please, they haven't even noticed. But before we go..." she casts glances on either side of her. "How is he?" She wonders.
"You met him..." Rose complains. "What do you think?"
"No, I mean–How is he?" The Calvert family smirk (as their father called it) lights across DeEtta's face. And it dawns on her.
"I am not answering that question!" Rose insists. "It is so none of your business!"
"Oh come on! I'm just curious! I've never been with anyone besides a Fuschbau!"
"SHUT UP, DEE!"
They end up staying the night with Rose; while their mother goes to bed early, Rose and DeEtta drink a bottle of wine and smoke a few more contraband cigarette out of her living room window and talk (mostly argue). Nothing is decided or fixed but when they leave in the morning, Rose is actually sad to see them go. When she returns to her bedroom, head aching from all that wine, she flops onto her bed and notices something that wasn't there yesterday.
Her father's non-working watch sits beside her phone charger and bowl for rings and other assorted jewelry. There's no note or anything but Rose likes the way it looks.
Fun note: I channeled a lot of myself into DeEtta, so I apologize for all the cursing.
So, the next arc is going to be a two-parter (both probably pretty long) and we get to dive back into the world of Wesen politics then another oneshot after that!
R&R?