Title: A Butterfly In Japan III: Pour Some Sugar On Me

Rating: PG (maybe PG-13, but that's stretching it)

Spoilers: Mainly just through season 8, though I would advise knowing of the Carby situation as
of Season 9.

Archive: It would rock my world. I'd just like to know who's going to rock my world, so email
me first, please.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Get over it.

Author's Notes: Once again, I'm not really quite sure how to take this chapter. It seems like it's
kinda cute, but I don't know. It may have to be taken down for repairs or complete and total
demolishment.

*PS...reloaded to fix a few grammatical errors*




Right now, I feel like a piece of meat.

And not a very good piece of meat at that.

Ugh. John and I just had dinner with his grandmother. That was a pretty little slice of hell on
earth. This wasn't the first time I've met Gamma, but it's the first time I've met her as Carter's
girlfriend. So I got inspected.

He keeps telling me that his grandmother likes me, and she only comes off like a hard-ass to those
who don't know her, but I know the truth. I fully messed up. I couldn't string together two
coherent words the entire night. I dropped my fork (more than once), spilled water (again, more
than once), and made a general fool of myself the all evening. I suppose my one saving grace is
that I didn't humiliate myself in public; we had dinner at the mansion. Of course, that probably
didn't help my nerves. We were on her turf, as opposed to the neutral ground of a restaurant.

I don't know what possessed me to think it'd be a good idea to have dinner with his grandmother
this early on in the relationship. We've only been together for a month. How the hell should I
know what my intentions are toward her grandson? At that point in the evening, my only
intention toward her grandson involved a bottle of chocolate syrup and a can of whipped creme.
And that doesn't really make a terribly good impression on someone. Unless you're talking to a
porn enthusiast or something.

And she actually asked me what my intentions were toward him. She waited until he was out of
the room to ask that, of course (let's make the girlfriend feel even more uncomfortable!). I had
no response to that; I think I mumbled something about how I cared a lot about him and that I
wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. Can I get any more trite or cliche? Not
likely.

I was hell-bent on impressing this woman. I really want her to like me. It makes a relationship a
whole lot easier when your significant other's family likes you. I know my mother likes John, so
he really doesn't have anything to worry about. I, on the hand, am hopeless. He loves his
grandmother; her opinion matters more to him than his parents' opinions. And if she thinks I'm a
moron, then Carter isn't very far behind, I'm sure.

Fortunately, the inquisition only lasted about three hours. I suppose it could've have been
worse–there could have been a freak snow storm, trapping us all in the same house together, and
then she really would have had a chance to hate me.

The drive back to his apartment was relatively peaceful. A comment about the weather here, an
amusing anecdote there, but I could tell that he was waiting for just the right moment to strike.

And sure enough, almost as soon as we stepped in the door, he asks, "What's up, Abby?"

"Nothing's up," I tell him, putting my bag on the table by the door. I wander over to the window
and look out over the Chicago skyline.

He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on the top of my
head. I think he likes the fact that I'm so short. He's always commenting on how I fit with him
perfectly. I like it, too, though. Whenever I hug him, or he stands behind me like this, I get to be
surrounded by Carter. And it feels absolutely wonderful. Especially right now.

"Then why are you so wound up?" he murmurs.

"Mainly because your grandmother hates me."

"She doesn't hate," he answers.

"Could have fooled me."

"Susan she hated. But she definitely likes you."

"Then explain to me why she was giving me the evil eye all night."

He chuckles. "She wasn't giving you the evil eye."

"Well, she sure as hell was glaring at me."

"I promise you she wasn't."

I let my head loll back against his shoulder, and his chin comes to rest against my forehead. "I
feel like I failed every one of those little tests she was giving me."

"Abby, she wasn't testing you. Inspecting you, yes. I'll be honest with you about that. She likes
to make sure that the girls I date are good enough for her grandson."

I let out a disgruntled snort. "That means you'll be breaking up with me soon."

"What?!" He removes his arms from their position around my waist and turns me around so
we're facing one another. "Why on earth would I be breaking up with you?"

I give him a look. "Are you going to tell me that she thought I was good enough for you?"

"Actually, she did. Gamma really liked you, Abby. She thought your extreme nervousness was
really cute. She said it showed her how important it was to you that you made a good
impression."

"Which I didn't."

He sighs and stares at me for a good thirty seconds before speaking again. "Do you know what
she said to me as we were leaving tonight?"

"Get rid of her now before she fakes a pregnancy?"

"Funny. She said, and this is a direct quote, 'She's a keeper.' Does that sound as if she doesn't
like you? Why would she say that if she didn't think you were a good person?"

That shocks me. I'm actually speechless for a few moments. "When did she say that?"

"When we were leaving. You had just stepped outside, and as she was hugging me goodbye, she
told me to hold on to you. Not that I wouldn't have anyway, but it's nice to know that Gamma
shares the sentiment."

I blink at him a few times before I decide I should probably sit down, so I head over to the couch
and collapse, Carter following closely behind. "She thinks I'm a good person?"

"Trust me, she's well on her way to adoring you."

"Adoring me? Why?"

"For a lot of reasons. First of all, what's not to adore? It didn't take me long to get there." With
that, he leans over and kisses me. Ah, bliss. I wish there was someway we could get through life
while being connected at the lips. And why does he always have to be so damn sweet?

"She also really appreciates that you came to Grandpa's funeral last year. She knows it meant a
lot to me to have you there. I think one of her big reasons is that she said she hasn't seen me
smile this much in years. Anyone who can make me this happy is wonderful in her book. So,
stop worrying." He gives me an adorable little teasing grin. "You have the Gamma stamp of
approval. She has no worries about the gold-digger alarm ever being triggered. You're as good
as gold."

I wrap my arms around his midsection and lean against his side. We sit in silence for a while
before he finally asks, as I knew he would, "Why are you so concerned with what Gamma thinks
of you? You've never cared much about people's opinions about you."

I shrug. "She's your grandmother. I know she means a lot to you, so I wanted her to like me.
Even though I have no intentions of backing off in the near or distant future, I didn't know how
you'd feel about being with someone that your grandmother disapproves of."

"Well, I wouldn't be happy if she disapproved of you, but it wouldn't stop me from seeing you.
As much as I love Gamma, it's not her life. Her opinion matters to me, but if I let it get to me too
much, I wouldn't be a doctor. I'd be working the family business or something."

I smile into his shoulder. "Yeah, I guess that's true."

"But you really have nothing to worry about because she thinks you're great. Feel any better
now?" I nod. "So relax."

I do relax for a moment, until a horrifying thought flickers through my brain. "What about your
parents? Oh, my God, I don't think I can take this. I mean, your mother seems to have issues
with me as it is, and I've barely met the woman. How is she going to react to me being a semi-
permanent figure in your life?"

"First of all, I'd hardly call you a semi-permanent figure, and second, Mom has chilled out a lot
since the first time you met her. I think we've actually come to an understanding. She trying her
best to be my mother, and I'm doing what I can to be her son."

"Well, I'm happy for you about that. But you've got to think...adding me to that mix might not
be very pretty."

"If either of them don't like it, tough. Like I said, it's my life. Nothing my parents say could stop
me from being with you. And don't forget that." He bends down a little and kisses my nose.
"The only bad part for you is that you'll probably have to meet them individually. I doubt they'd
really agree to have dinner together to meet you. Unless you're interested in seeing a reenactment
of the Cold War."

I laugh a little at that. "No, not especially."

"So, if you want, next time one or the other is in town, we can arrange to meet them for dinner or
something. You can get it out of the way as soon as possible. I know it's stressful to meet the
parents and that sort of thing, and my particular breed of parents don't help the equation much."

"Do your parents even know that you're seeing someone?"

He's silent for a few moments before he laughs. "I don't think they even know I was locked in
the hospital for two weeks. It's been a while since we talked."

"Well, let me know the next time they're in town and we'll talk about it."

"Sounds like a plan."

I pull off my shoes and bring my feet up so that I'm curled up on the couch, then I move myself
so that I'm closer to John, if that's at all possible. We're silent for a while, just enjoying each
other's company, and me thinking a lot about tonight's events. I'm still kind of amazed that
Gamma likes me that much. I never thought that she was some snooty, stuck-up debutante or
something (I've thought things like that about his mother from time to time, but not his
grandmother), but I never expected her to really like me. I figured she'd have the same thoughts
toward me that she did about Susan: Some girl that her grandson is dating, who made a tiny little
faux-pas and, for that one simple transgression, is now permanently black balled. I guess I did
something right, though.

At some point, I chuckle softly to myself.

"What is it?"

"I was just thinking about something your grandmother asked me."

"What'd she ask?"

"She asked what my intentions are toward you."

"When did she ask that?"

I shake my head. "She crafty. She waited until you left the table to go check on desert or
something."

"I can't believe she actually asked you your intentions." He pauses, then lets his curiosity get the
better of him. "What did you say?"

"Not what I was thinking, that's for sure."

"Now I'm intrigued."

"I don't know, I think I said something along the lines of me caring about you a lot and wanting
to spend as much time with you as possible. I can't be sure. I wasn't doing a good job of
speaking my native language at the moment. Apparently, Hooked on Phonics didn't work for
me."

I feel him smile against my hair. "And what was it that you were thinking, Miss Lockhart?"

I grin devilishly. "I was thinking that my main intentions toward you at that moment were to get
you home and break out the chocolate syrup and whipped creme."

"Ooo." He stands up and moves toward the kitchen. "Do we have that?"

I get up and follow him. "I bought them both at the store the other night. I thought it could be
interesting." I go to the fridge and pull out both condiments. "I even got the economy size.
Better to have too much that too little, I like to say."

"You didn't get any cherries, did you?"

I have to bite the inside of my lip from making a really awful comment, and instead say, "Not this
time. You'll just have to make do with what you have."

He waggles his eyebrows at me playfully. "I have more than enough." With one hand, he grabs
the syrup and whipped creme, and takes my hand in the other, and starts pulling me to the
bedroom. "Come on, Abby, we're wasting time."

"You got something better to do?" I ask, more than willing to follow him into the bedroom.

"I've got better things to do than sit around and talk about making a hot Abby sundae. Especially
when I can be using that time to actually make it. So, let's go!" By this time, we've reached the
bedroom, and John has kicked the door shut behind him. "All right. Who's first?"

Oh, this is gonna be fun.