A/N: This one is more on the M side, thank me later. ;)
"Here," He says as he returns to the couch and places a mug of something warm in her frozen fingers, "This will warm you up."
"Thanks." She doesn't drink it, she just holds it as the heat from the cup slowly starts to bring her fingers back to life. He adjusts the blanket in her lap as he sits next to her and she smiles a small smile. She expected him to be angry, to implode on her, to yell. He isn't doing that and from what she can see, he isn't angry. He's relieved.
"Olivia brought you home." It's not a question, it's the stating of a fact that she provided him with.
"Yes." She says, "And before you ask, yes it was very awkward." She sighs, "I'm surprised she didn't just drop me off in the middle of nowhere like an unwanted dog."
"I'm just glad you're home. I was worried." He says softly as he brushes her hair back. It's wetter than it was earlier but that's just because the heat of the house is causing the ice to unthaw. Her clothes are wet too and they stick to her and she should change them, but she wants to sit with him a little longer.
"I'm sorry." She didn't intend to go as far as she did, to get lost. Her legs started to move and her body followed, her mind staggered on a few paces back. She wasn't thinking.
"Don't do it again, please." Francis presses a soft kiss to her wet hair and she nods. "What did you talk about?" Right. She should tell him, but her stomach twists uncomfortably.
"Did you know her parents disowned her?" She asks, "After...what happened." His face tells her he didn't. "They shipped her off to some distant relatives and cut contact. She didn't even know them, so many horrible things could have happened to her. I don't...understand how her parents could have…" She shakes her head, her mother didn't like her that much but she always fought when CPS tried to take her away. She couldn't bear losing her daughter and sometimes Mary wonders if that was because she was the only thing her mother had left of her father and not because she loved her.
She can never ask her.
Olivia must have felt so alone. So afraid.
"I never met her parents, I just assumed they moved."
"If you knew would you have done something?"
"I'm not sure that there was anything I could have done." He says with a shrug, "But I think I would have tried." At least he's honest and she can't fault him for that. He loved her once. He should have been able to fight for her. Knowing that doesn't stop the nauseating tinge from settling in her stomach though. Mary nods as she folds her legs under her frozen body and swallows. The next part, she isn't sure how he'll react to it. It won't change what happened, but it'll add a new perspective.
"Did she ever...try anything before?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know...um…" She chews at her lip, "Hit on you?"
"No." He says that quickly but then shakes his head as he thinks, "I mean...she told me once that she loved me but I wasn't really listening, it didn't seem like a big deal at the time, I just shrugged it off."
"She told me the night of the accident, she went to you-"
"We don't have to talk about th-"
"She went to you with the intention of trying something." She says it anyway, he needs to know that. Even if it doesn't change anything, it makes it better. Or maybe worse, she doesn't know what she's supposed to be feeling. Right now, she only feels cold.
The kiss or whatever it was, it was going to happen regardless if he started it or not and he needed to know that. He doesn't say anything, he's quiet for a long stretch of silence and she frowns as she looks down at the warm liquid in her cup. Maybe she shouldn't have told him, she seems to have broken him. There's a glitch in the matrix. has stopped responding but she waits.
"That doesn't change what I did." He finally speaks and his voice is small, she isn't used to it sounding like that.
"No."
"I wish I could take it back." He says softly, she knows that but he can't. It doesn't work like that.
"I know."
"Mary, I'm sorry."
"I know."
"I-" She stops his apologies with her mouth, jerking forward with too much speed and catching him off guard. She just wants him to stop apologizing, it doesn't change anything. The sheer force of their lips meeting causes her cup to slip from her fingers. The hot liquid collides with the blanket, bleeds through to the fabric of her jeans, finds her icicle of a leg. It doesn't burn her, she doesn't even feel it but she does jump back and so does Francis.
"Smooth." He comments
"Shut up." Is the giggling response, "Did it get on you?"
"No." He smiles as he reaches for the cup in her lap and then the tea soaked blanket. "Will I be needing to apply more burn ointment on you?"
"No, the blanket got most of it." She tells him, not that his hands on her thigh doesn't sound pleasant. "I need to change." She groans as she stands.
"Do you need help?" It's a joke, she knows it's a joke but she replaces her almost nod with a look that tells him she didn't find it funny before she heads for the stairs.
-/-
"He wasn't supposed to call you." Francis says as soon as the door opens.
"Hello to you too." Mary says as she pushes passed him. He got called to his mothers where a frantic Charles had waited. Mary was just stepping out of the shower when she got a call too. Charles is standing by the couch where Claude seems to have become one with, eyes half closed, her body limp.
"How long has she been like this?" Mary asks with a quirk of her brow.
"Not long." Charles says, "She's not really responding to anyone. She's never been this drunk before."
"She's not drunk" Mary has seen this before, a few too many times, "Get me some water. Cold." Francis hands her a pitcher from the fridge, watching with mild curiosity. Boy is her shocked when she proceeds to pour it over his sisters face. Claude coughs and wakes but not the way she wanted, usually her mom would wake with a start, yell at her for doing that. Claude doesn't, she just coughs and closes her eyes again. Mary sets the pitcher down with a sigh.
"I'm so sorry Claudey." She hums before trying to lift her into a sitting position, "On a scale of one to ten, how much does your mother like this couch?"
"Uh...like a six-" Francis doesn't finish before Mary is grabbing Claude's hair, craning her neck back, and shoving a few fingers down her throat. "MARY WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?" The way he yelled that made her want to laugh, but she just waits for the gagging as she leans Claude over and rubs her back as the girl pukes her guts out.
There's mush, yesterday's lunch and dinner, and a few too many pills, which she picks out as Claude coughs as gasps and coughs some more.
"Dude what the hell?" Claude says between her coughing fit.
"How many did you take?" Mary asks as she sifts through the contents of Claude's stomach.
"Uuuuhh-"
"How many?"
"I don't know like six." She says finally and Francis looks like he's about to pass out.
"Six." Mary tsks, "Well I'm only counting four so." She reaches and cranes the girls head back again.
"No, no, wait!" She pleads, "Don't do that againnnn"
"Do you want your stomach pumped?" She asks, "Because it's a lot more unpleasant. They stick a huge tube down your throat and pump this black tar stuff in it and-"
"Eeeeewwww-" Claude's groan is interrupted by her fingers again.
They pump her stomach, Francis doesn't watch, Charles himself ends up vomiting too but it doesn't bother Mary. She's seen it probably a million times before, the first time was when she was eight. It was scary then, but now she's numb to it.
"What the hell happened?" Catherine is seething as she walks down the hall, she was already at the hospital to sit with Henry during his chemo. He's so sick now he barely leaves the hospital anymore.
"She's fine." Francis says as he walks to his mother, "She took a bunch of pills-"
"Pills?!" She spats, "What?"
Catherine doesn't like her much, which is why it's shocking when she's pulled aside hours later to sit with her outside Claude's room. Francis is talking to his sister and Charles left to go to work, she's not sure if anyone else knows.
"It's been difficult since Henry's diagnosis. Claude is his world, and he's hers." Catherine explains softly, "Francis told me what you did."
"Are you going to yell at me about your couch?"
"No, it was an ugly couch." Catherine sighs, "To be honest I should thank you for giving me a reason to get rid of it." She laughs softly. Mary doesn't say anything, she isn't sure what to say to this woman, she never has been. The way she sees it is Catherine will never like her, she isn't good enough for her son and he chose her anyway. She has a lot to be bitter about.
"She thinks I hate her." Catherine explains, "She has since she was born."
"Hm."
"We don't get along and maybe that's my fault, I didn't try hard enough."
"Is the part where you tell me you've been enlightened?" The part where she tells her that she turned a new leaf, one that will make her more affectionate to the girl in the hospital bed.
"No." She says, "I want to thank you for what you did, you saved her." Not really, her situation wasn't too dire. She's sure she would have lived if Mary hadn't come.
"You're welcome."
"I know we didn't...start out well, I've never exactly been warm to you." She says, "If you need anything-"
"I grew up with a drug addicted mother who didn't want anything to do with me." Mary says as she stares at the wall, she doesn't like to talk about this and she doesn't want to see her mother-in-laws pitying look as she tells it. "I don't remember the last time she hugged me. I don't know her and she doesn't know me, but she's my mom and I love her and in her own way, she loves me too." She shrugs, "Some people just don't know how to show it."
"Mary-"
"Claude is a good girl, a good person, but you don't know that because you don't care, Catherine. She's just a screw up to you, it doesn't matter how hard she tries, that's all she will be to you until you show her otherwise." She shakes her head, "I know what it's like to have a mom who doesn't care, and it isn't pleasant. And, I don't care if this makes you hate me more, because Francis loves me and that's enough; She needs her mom. She needs you to give a shit before you can't anymore because if something doesn't change this will happen again and again until you're putting her in the ground."
"I-"
"And then it'll be too late." She stands up, "Now I'm going to go before you skin me, have a nice day." She turns to walk away, to find her car, to go home and pretend none of this happened. Old feelings are becoming new again and it twists unpleasantly in her gut.
"Mary." Her voice makes her stop though and she turns just in time to be embraced. She jumps, tenses, sure this is just an easier way for Catherine to snap her spine and kill her but her grip is tight, but not too tight, "You're a godsend." She smooths her hair, she kisses her cheek, she holds her and it's weird.
It's so weird but it's nice and when she pulls away, she gives her a small smile before going into Claude's room.
"Did...did she just hug you?" Francis asks as he walks out, the door closing behind him.
"Uh-huh."
"Are...you okay?"
"Uh-huh." She nods again, "I'm...I'm gonna get out of here and process what the hell just happened."
"As you should." Francis seems just as surprised as she is but he kisses her cheek, assures her he'll be home later and then she leaves.
-/-
She's changed and under the covers when he comes in. She just threw on one of his sweaters and crawled in bed. The comforter is warm but feels odd on her bare legs and she listens in the dark to Francis downstairs as he makes calls to her friends and whoever else, that the search for her is off. Then he calls Olivia and just says a quick thank you to her for bringing Mary home. It's a recorded message, seems Francis isn't the only person who isn't too keen on answering the others calls. Then she hears him climbing the stairs, the door opening and closing, his feet causing the floor to creak. She doesn't say anything as he changes and then climbs in the bed.
"I see you stole one of my sweaters." He comments as he runs his hand over the soft fabric covering her arm.
"If you don't like it then steal it back." She jokes, half jokes, and he settles against her.
"It looks better on you." He hums, "Are you warm?" She nods, "Good."
"I could stand to be a little warmer." She whispers, sleep has already begun to settle in her bones but she pushes back against him in an attempt to get closer, because she is freezing and he's very warm and she wants to be warm too. He pulls the blanket up to cover her more and then his arm settles over her waist.
"Better?" She shakes her head as she moves his hand, places it on her thigh for no reason other than being curious. "How did you get an ice sculpture in our bed?" He asks but he doesn't take his hand away, it glides a little higher as he smooths the soft skin under his palm. The hair that hung over her neck has moved, or been moved, and she can feel his warm breath on her skin and she barely thinks about it as she moves his hand again. This time she moves it to the inside of her thigh, keeping it in her fingers before she moves it up and up.
"What are you doing?" He asks that playfully but he doesn't move.
"I'm not warm enough." She tells him softly, keeping her eyes shut because she can't bear to look at his stupid face, "I thought you'd like to try a different approach at warming me up."
"Is that so?"
"Pretty please?" She hopes he doesn't make her beg, but he's already pressing soft kisses to her neck, he doesn't turn her over, he doesn't do anything. "Francis-" Her small, half-hearted plea, is cut off by a soft gasp when his hand slides between her legs. It's only there for a second before he pulls away, enough for her to feel the loss. She expects him to tell her it's late, to say no, to stop this.
"Do you forgive me?" He asks softly and she nods, "Hm?"
"I do." She tries to turn over to look at him, he doesn't let her. His hand trails back up, lips go back to her neck as his fingers tug her underwear down. Her stomach is tangled in nervous knots and her heart is hammering out of her chest as he tosses them somewhere.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." This time he turns her head to look at him but not the rest of her and he kisses her. It's soft and slow and he smiles against her lips before he deepens it. His tongue finding hers as their mouths take on another sense of urgency and it's as dizzying as it is tantalizing. She barely notices when his hand sneaks between her legs, when he starts to touch, slow at first before speeding up a little and she gasps loudly, breaking the kiss, when she feels him push in her.
"Do you want me to stop?" He whispers in her ear, pausing long enough for her to shake her head and squeeze her eyes shut. He continues, agonizingly slow, caressing and curling and listening to her tiny gasps at every new thing he does.
He knows her body. Very well. It's something she's known for a while, but it's evident in the way that he teases and touches. It doesn't take long at all to have her writhing against his hand, every sound she makes only seems to intensify his attentions, as she twists her legs in the blanket, moving against him, her fingers are gripping the sheets so tight they hurt and she turns her head in her pillow, her whimpers and gasps falling out of her mouth and his name claws at her throat. The strings inside her body tighten and tighten until they finally snap with a shout and she's left breathing heavy and sweat clings to her.
Francis just chuckles as he pulls his hands away from her, pleased with himself, satisfied with his handy work. He seemed to have enjoyed watching her.
"Are you warm now?" He whispers in her ear teasingly and she breathes a laugh.
"Shut up." She turns her body, as tired and liquidy as it is, to look at him. He's in her arms before she can even reach and the kisses are slower, like they have all the time in the world. His phone rings from downstairs and he ignores it as he kisses and kisses and kisses her. He's just crawling over her when it rings again.
"Whoever that is better be dying." He says as he rolls off of her, "Stay." He instructs, she couldn't use her legs if she tried. So, she stays.
She doesn't listen to the conversation, her limbs are tired and heavy and her sensitive flesh is still buzzing but it's short and she's half asleep when he comes in and flicks on all the lights.
"Get up." He says quickly and she groans against the bright lights as he pulled her up to sit. She barely has time to ask what the hell is going on before he's flinging clothes at her, jeans slam against her chest. "Get dressed."
"What-"
"It's James." He sounds frantic and her blood turns into ice and her heart ceases to beat as she stares at him. "We have to go." She nods as she pulls on her clothes with shaking fingers and Francis does help her when she isn't moving fast enough, he yanks her pants up her legs, a shirt over her head. After what he just did to her a few minutes ago she doesn't have time to be shy about it.
"The roads are bad." She tells him as she crosses the room to him, he's pulling on a belt, fastening it before he looks at her. "Francis." She's trying to be soothing, she cups his face.
"I know." He breathes as he pulls her hands away, "My mother doesn't live far from here."
"I-"
"Shoes." He tells her when he sees her bare feet and she steps back, he pulls her back to him though, a hard kiss meets her lips, "Hurry up."
-/-
Her house isn't far from theirs and Francis doesn't even knock before going in with Mary trailing behind him. Catherine stands from her place on the couch, tying her robe closed, her dark blonde hair falls around her shoulders.
"He was fine and then he wasn't." She explains, stepping aside so Francis can see.
"James." He says softly as he walks over, James is on the couch curled up in a small ball and he's crying and Mary's heart feels like it's going to break at the sight.
"I want mom." Is all he says in his small little voice.
"She's here." Francis waves her over and she comes, "It's alright." He soothes, rubbing the little boys back and Mary knelts down in front of him, brushing his curls back.
"What's the matter?" She asks softly.
"You're not sick again?" He asks and she gives Francis a confused look, he taps his head. Oh, right. He told James she was sick all those weeks to explain the accident, why he couldn't come home, why she couldn't come see him. Francis probably didn't think of the long term repercussions of telling a child that. She shakes her head.
"No."
"Then where did you go?"
"I took a walk and...then I got lost." She tells him, "But I'm not lost now."
"I thought I was never going to see you." She doesn't know if he's talking about before or now, but she nods as she runs her thumb over his small hands.
"I'm really sorry." She says softly, "I didn't mean to scare you." She's not sure what to tell him, she isn't sure what Francis has already told him. She isn't sure what he said before dropping James off here. If he gave him a reason.
"Stop going away." He cries and she stands to sit next to him, to which he climbs in her lap and she shushes him, strokes his hair, soothes his back and he buries his little face in her neck. Francis scoots closer and presses a soft kiss to James' hair and soothes him too.
She's guessing he gets his panic attacks from her, considering she's had a few and she wonders how often this has happened. How many times they've had to come and calm him like they're doing now. It takes a while to get him calm enough to sleep and Mary shakes her head when Francis tries to take him from her to put him back to bed, or load him in the car but she can do it. He isn't that heavy.
Catherine pulls the curtain from a window and sucks in a breath.
"You guys are not driving in this." She tells them.
"What?" Francis asks and when they look out the window, the snow is coming down so hard they can barely see.
"I have plenty of room." She tells him, "You should know."
"Mom-"
"It'll be good." She smiles and then she cups his face, "I've missed having you under my roof." She smiles lovingly and Mary doesn't say anything as she quirks a brow at him.
"It's literally a ten minute drive."
"And risk having my sons brains scattered on the side of the road? Please." She spats, her eyes go to Mary, "No offense, darling."
"None...taken…" She says as she adjusts James on her hip, "Francis it's fine."
"Fine." He says after having a minute long staring contest with his mother, who doesn't look like she's going to be budging on the subject.
"Oh, perfect." She smiles as she claps her hands together, "I'll get your old room ready. I've been so lonely since Margot started school." She's talking mostly to herself as she heads up the stairs.
-/-
"Where do you want to put the tree?" He asks her as she sits on the couch. It's a random question and she tilts her head. "It's almost Christmas." He supplies.
"Ah." She nods, "I didn't...know we were doing that." She never really got the whole decorating thing, but she's never actually partaken in any of it so, maybe her opinion on it will change. The apartment is small and she isn't sure where it would even fit. It's December, she supposes it's about time they start, but it was Thanksgiving last week and they skipped his family get together in favor of doing something with Bash. She's being forced to go to the Christmas one.
"Mary."
"Hm?"
"Can I get a little more enthusiasm?" Francis asks and she squints at him, "Hello?"
"Just out of curiosity, are we doing the whole presents under the tree thing?"
"That is where they go."
"I wouldn't know." She says softly, "I've never had one." That comes out even softer and he blinks as she goes back to her book. Only for it to be ripped out of her hands two seconds later.
"You've never had a tree?" He asks, "Ever?"
"Have you met my mom?"
"That." He sighs, "That is the saddest goddamn thing I have ever heard."
"Wait until you hear I have no idea how to even wrap a present."
"What?"
"We didn't do that stuff at my house." She says, she doesn't see the big deal. It seems fun, but it's not the end of the world if she never decorates a house or wraps a gift in her life. Besides, Christmas used to just be about being together until capitalism got involved and nowadays it's all about who can buy what. People go out and bulldoze other people for deals the day after being thankful for what they already have, the holidays don't mean much anymore.
"You are literally the bubbliest, happiest person I know,"
"Oh thank you." She smiles.
"And you hate Christmas."
"I do not!" She shouts, "I didn't say that." She frowns but he smiles, "I just don't see how you're going to fit a whole tree in this apartment."
"I'll figure it out."
"Okay, well, when you do come get me."
Her shift at the bar ran later than she thought it would and she just wants to crawl into bed. It's two in the morning and the stairs feel a mile longer than they are normally.
"Francis…" She groans as she walks in because usually despite how late it gets, he's waiting for her but she's met with silence and dark, she flicks on the light. Lights. So. Many. Lights. Her eyes hurt and she squints to adjust them. It looks like Santa threw up in her apartment. There are strings of multicolored lights and twinkly red lights around the molding and tinsel around the windows. The tablecloth has tiny candy canes on them, there's a bowl by the door in the shape of an elves face where she drops her keys.
"Ta da!" Francis shouts from the bed, "Do you like it?"
"I'm horrified." But she smiles.
"There's more." He smirks and she tilts her head at him but that's when she notices the tree cramped in a corner, it's plain though, no ornaments or lights that she can see. She laughs when he withdraws a tiny white remote from under the blanket and with a click, the tree glows.
"You've been waiting all day to do that, haven't you?" She asks with a giggle. He shrugs as he stands.
"Come closer, it won't bite." He tells her and then he's pulling her over. "I saved this part for you." He whispers and he uses his foot to drag a box of ornaments and different accessories for the tree.
"I hate you." She says but she can't stop smiling as she reaches for one.
Okay, she may have judged this whole holiday thing too harshly, it really is pretty and she's enjoying doing this with Francis. It's four in the morning when they reach half way, starting and stopping to goof off. She watches him place one near the top and she stares at him. The twinkling lights reflect off the light blue of his eyes and it's so beautiful she could cry. And he did all this for her. And she loves him so much. She wants a million more Christmases with him.
"Marry me." He pauses, seems to not hear her at first but then it sinks in and he's left gaping at her.
"Not a funny joke."
"It's not a joke." She says quickly, "I'm serious."
"You're serious." He says softly.
"I mean...not if...you don't want to-" She's starting to step back.
"Okay, who told you?" He asks suddenly, "Was it Kenna? Because if it was Kenna-"
"What, what, who told me what?" She asks, giving him a confused look and then he's staring at her and she's staring at him and it feels like weeks before he says anything else.
"No one told you." He says that more to himself than to her, "Ah damnit. Okay."
"I'm very confused."
"Don't move." He tells her firmly and then he's leaving and she hears him move something in the bathroom and then he's coming back.
He's coming back with a small black box and her stomach flips.
"Is...is that what I think…"
"I wanted to wait." He explains, "Until your birthday and then I got nervous…"
"Francis-"
"It was in my pocket the whole night."
"Oh." She says softly. She almost passes out when he gets down on one knee. "Oh my god-"
"Mary-"
"Yes." It's quick as she meets him on the floor, "Yes!" She says that louder as she kisses him over and over. "I love you, I love you, I love you." He's barely able to get the ring on her finger as she clings to him and kisses him.
-/-
"Your mother seems nice." She says softly in the darkness of his old room. The bed is a little small for them, adding in the tiny body squished between them and it's really not big enough for them.
"She isn't." He hums. "But she tries."
"I'm sorry we didn't get to finish earlier." She whispers, she's been trying not to think about it but that's easier said than done.
"If I remember correctly you did finish." He whispers back and James stirs between them. She makes a face, "But then again you always do."
"Stop it."
"Some might say you're in very capable hands."
"Ew, stop." She covers her sons ears, he's pretty out though, he'd never know what they're talking about.
"Strong fingers."
"Ew, stop it."
"You weren't saying ew two hours ago." He says softly and even though it's dark, she can see his smirk and she wants to smack it off his face.
"I'm going to sleep."
"Aw, did I wear you out? We didn't even get to the good stuff."
"Shut uuupp." She whines, thankful for the dark, he can't see the god awful blush she's sporting right now. He stops, for now, he stops and instead he attempts to get more comfortable.
Mary is having an eventful night, first she ends up in the car with Olivia, and now she's in the bed that her and Francis used to...well.
"It's not the same bed." He tells her like he knows what she's thinking, "That one was thrown out."
"Oh."
"Go to sleep, my love." He says softly and she nods. She doesn't go to sleep though, she stays awake, stroking her sons hair and eventually when her husbands breathing steadies, she tries to sleep too. Her stomach twists, it twists until it hurts and she's launching herself out of bed a few seconds later as something rises in her throat. She knows where the bathroom is, it's right across the hall, Francis showed her. She doesn't even flick on the light before hitting her knees. She didn't have time, her stomach empties in the porcelain.
"Oh, Mary!" The light is flicked on a little while later, just as she's spitting the remnant of her stomach out of her mouth. It's Catherine.
"Sorry...I-"
"Are you alright, I could hear you down the hall?" She asks softly as she hands her a washcloth. She nods as she wipes at her mouth, that came out of nowhere but a lot happened today and yesterday. She didn't eat much, that's probably what it is, she's still healing from the accident too.
"I'm okay." She says softly, "Stress and…" and she doesn't know, "My head is still...um."
"Right." Catherine nods as she squints at her, "You should go back to bed." Mary doesn't really like the weird look she's giving her but she goes back to bed anyways. If she has something to say, she'll say it tomorrow.