Disclaimer: Still don't own anything familiar.

A/N: OKAY. Here is the long awaited Thanksgiving chapter. This may get a little crazy. And I had to get over even more writer's block AGAIN. Sorry! I've been having a lot of trouble writing lately! And Track just started. But I won't let it interfere too much. I swear!

So try to enjoy.

Song for Chapter: When You're Around by Motion City Soundtrack

But all I could do was close my eyes
And cross my arms and hope to die
Cause you don't fucking listen
When I'm around.
The least you could do is take it back
All the vicious remarks and verbal attacks,
Cause I can't fucking stand it.
When You're Around.


Chapter Twelve: Thanksgiving

I woke up the next morning with one of the worst kinks in my neck ever. I rubbed my neck profusely for a million years before realizing I was on the couch instead of my bed. And that's when I remembered that Legolas and I had fallen asleep during one of The Brady Bunch reruns.

NOTHING HAPPENED. Get your minds out the gutter. Geez.

Well, I think he fell asleep. Actually, he probably didn't. That kid NEVER sleeps. Seriously. He was more than likely up all night and as chipper as ever. He's crazy. Without coffee, too. You'd think he would be a coffee fanatic, but he didn't need it. He actually hates coffee. He said that it tasted like dirt and that he couldn't possibly fathom how anyone could be addicted to this stuff.

But like I said, he's crazy.

I slowly got up from the couch. My muscles screamed in pain. I was sore all over. I suddenly felt bad for making Legolas sleep on the couch. It must be painful. I'm so horrible. But I didn't care too much at that moment because I felt like nails were being driven into my back. I made a mental note to never, ever, under any circumstance, fall asleep on that couch again.

I looked up from my freshly poured bowl of cereal when I heard the toilet flush in the bathroom. Legolas stumbled out, his foot flailing about in an effort to get a piece of toilet paper off.

I have a bad habit of snorting. Normally, it wouldn't have been so funny. But it was really early, like nine-thirty. So I was too tired to function normally.

"I see you have yet to master the loo," I said.

"Don't you mean the toilet?" he asked. Aww, he was being serious too.

"Loo is another term for toilet. It's British thing." I took another bite of cereal and Legolas leaned across the counter and kissed my forehead. Yeah, it was pretty much like that the whole night. So we were an item.

And it was GREAT.

Well, great until there was a knock at the door.

Groaning, I slowly walked over to the door and said, "Someone had better be dead!" I opened the door and my super obnoxious neighbor, Greg, was standing there. He was a few inches shorter than me and he eye were hidden behind huge, bulky glasses. He was holding a box filled with canned goods.

"Someone is dead." He replied somberly. I felt like even more of a horrible person.

"Greg, I'm so sorry," I apologized, "Wait, who's dead?"

"Albert." He sniffed.

"Uh, who's Albert?"

"Albert Einstein!" He started to mock-sob.

"Ass." I sighed and began to close the door but he caught it with his hand.

"Wait! I just need a canned good!"

But Greg only collected canned goods on holidays like Easter, Christmas and…

THANKSGIVING.

"OhmyGod!" I ran back inside and grabbed an eighty-year old can of asparagus and threw in the box. "I've gotta go Greg, bye!" And I practically slammed the door in his face. "Get dressed!"

"What's going on?" Legolas asked.

"Just get dressed or we're going to be late!" I silently thanked God he didn't ask another question. I put on some nice clothes and shoes. Mom wouldn't approve, but she would just have to deal. I walked out of my room to see Legolas wearing a flannel shirt and jeans. Oh boy. Mom definitely would not like this.

"Okay, we have to do something about your hair."

"What do you mean?" He backed away slightly when I approached him with a brush.

"Chill out, I'm not going to chop it off or anything." I pulled his hair back and tied it with a ponytail. He looked kind of like a grunge rocker from the nineties.

Ooer.

"Okay, you're good. Let's go." We rushed out to the car and I think I was at least forty over the speed limit. I had just started to breathe again when I thought we were going to make it on time when I remembered that I didn't even have some food to bring. "Holy sh…" I turned into the closest grocery store parking lot and jumped out of the car. I ran into the store and raced around until I finally found the dessert aisle. I picked up a pie and waited in the check out line. There were at least three people with tons of groceries. I cursed inwardly. And I think I made up some new curse words too.

Finally, as the lady in front of me is writing her check, I put my pie on the little conveyer belt thinger. I was relieved that things could finally get going. But then, some totally #$$$#&&(&(&(&#&(#&(&# butted in front of me.

I was really pissed.

It was a guy, of course. Balding, probably single too. And he wasn't exactly skinny either. And he had at least twenty things too. I counted to ten in my head and tried to calm myself. Getting a lawsuit now wouldn't help me get to my parent's house on time.

"Excuse me sir," I said as politely as I could, "I was here first."

"Well, I'm in a rush." He replied. And then ignored me. Like I didn't even exist. That's when my pregnancy hormones kicked in.

"Sir," I said through clenched teeth, "You're not the only one who needs to be somewhere. I want my spot back."

"Just because you got knocked up by some lowlife doesn't give you the right to-"

"Just because you're fat and ugly and living the pathetic single life doesn't give you the right to be an idiot and cut in front of me! And, if I was pregnant right now, I swear on all that is good and holy I WOULD kick your sorry ass." I pushed him out of the way and paid for the pie and quickly walked out the car.

"What took you so long?" Legolas asked.

"Well, there was a long line and then someone cut in front of me and I had to take care of it." I put the keys in the ignition and sped off.

About fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the driveway of my parent's house. Another green Audi was parked in the street, signifying that my sister, who just so happened to be the head surgeon at some hospital in New York, had already arrived. This was going to be a nightmare.

"Legolas, I'm going to warn you now," I said very seriously, "My parents are crazy. They may seem nice at first, but then they'll start questioning you. They put the 'terror' back in interrogation. So be ready." He looked a little bit wary as he got out of the car. But I was glad I warned him. At least he would be ready.

I rang the doorbell and waited. A few moments later, my mother answered. She was, of course, aging. Gray hairs were mixed in with brown ones. (She gave me my rat's nest of brown curls) And when she smiled, wrinkles appeared.

"Oh, Diana, it's good to see you!" She hugged me, "It feels like it's been so long!"

"Hey mom." I greeted. I could see right through everything.

"And this must be your boyfriend!" Legolas looked really scared when she hugged him. It was cute.

"Mom, this is Orlando, Orlando, this is my mom." I said monotonously.

"Well, come on in!" We followed her down the hall and into the kitchen. I could smell the turkey cooking along with mashed potatoes and the usual Thanksgiving food. All of it homemade.

"I brought you a pie," I held it out and she reluctantly took it.

"It's store-bought?" She wrinkled her nose.

"I didn't have any time to-"

"It's alright." She sighed, "Go ahead into the living room. Dinner will be ready soon."

"Follow me," I said quietly. I hated it when she did this to me. My father, sister and brother were sitting on the couch watching football. Once we entered, they turned their attention to us.

"Who's he?" My brother, valedictorian of his senior class Brandon, asked.

"Be polite!" My sister, Tara, scolded.

"That is Orlando," I said, "This is my sister, Tara, my Brother, Brandon and my father."

"Have a seat," My dad said, gesturing towards the spot next to him. This couldn't be good.

"Dad, please…" I tried to save him, but I failed. Legolas sat down and the interrogation began.

"Do you watch a lot of football, Orlando?"

"Uh…" Leggy looked so lost, "…no."

"Oh, well, you don't know what you're missing!"

"Dad, people have other interests than you do."

"Dinner's ready!" My mother called from the kitchen. He was safe. For now. It was only destined to get worse from there. We all seated ourselves at the table. Mom had set the table, with the turkey in the middle. She also had made stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, the usual Thanksgiving foods.

We said thanks and we all dug in. Legolas looked a little scared at first. He didn't really touch his food. But once he did, he relaxed.

"So, what do you do for a living?" My mother asked.

Here we go…

"I work at a flower shop." He replied proudly.

"Do you own this flower shop?" My dad asked.

"No."

"Then what do you do?"

"I'm the clerk."

"Clerk?" My mom sounded like she just swallowed something sour.

"Mom," I tried to help, "He just moved here. Give him a break." She just shook her head and focused on cutting her piece of turkey.

"So," My sister started, "Your from England, right? What's it like there?"

"Uh," he thought for a minute, "It's…nice enough."

"Nice? Is that it?" How typical of her.

"He just doesn't want to talk about it right now." The next few moments were silent, save for the sound of forks and knives. I knew this was going to happen. I finally found something good and they could do was ruin it for me. I was counting down the minutes to freedom.

The oven timer rang. "Oh! Dessert must be done." She got up from her chair and pulled out a pie from the oven. A pie.

Not my pie.

Not the pie the I fought to get.

Not the pie that I went out of my to get for her.

"What kind of pie is it mom?" I asked innocently.

"What do you mean?"

"I think its apple." Brandon said, taking a piece.

"Not pumpkin?" I said. I watched as everyone but Legolas and I took a piece. At least he could tell what was going on. At least he was on my side.

My mom gave me a look and ate her pie.

"That's an interesting hair style," My dad commented.

"Yes. Did you ever think about cutting it?" My mom added. Now she was just trying to make me mad.

"No." Legolas replied politely.

"You look like a hippie." Brandon said.

"Shut up!" I retorted. But my mom or my dad didn't say anything to him. Because they agreed. They always let him get away with anything.

About ten minutes later I was in the kitchen helping my mom with the dishes. I didn't say anything to her. I was so mad. But she only made everything worse.

"You know," she started the chain reaction which could only lead to my doom, "Jason was a very nice man."

I stopped what I was doing.

Of course she would think that because a.) I never told what happened and b.) She'll always disagree with me no matter what.

"No mom, he wasn't." I scrubbed furiously.

"At least he had a decent job. Not to mention a decent haircut." She shook her head, "You always had a bad taste in men. I thought when you and Jason started going out that it would last. But I was wrong."

"You hardly knew him! And you hardly know him!" I pointed towards the living room where Legolas was facing God knows what.

"But I can tell that he's not right for you." She said.

"No you can't!" This is how it's always been and it's how it will always be between my mom and me.

"But Jason could've provided for you! If you had just gone to a regular college instead of that art school, you would be better off!"

"In case you forgot, mother, this-" I gestured toward my stomach, "-is Jason's fault!"

"You could have said no." I stared at her for a few seconds. I couldn't believe her sometimes. I put the dishes down and wiped my hands. I quickly grabbed my jacket and Legolas and walked out the door without so much as a goodbye.

And it wasn't the first time either.

The drive home was silent. He didn't say anything and I didn't want him to. I was too busy figuring out why my mother wanted to ruin my life.

Once we got back to my apartment, he decided to say something.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Peachy. You?"

"I can cut my hair if you want me too. I can get a better job."

"What're you…" then I realized why he was saying this, "Did you hear me and my mom talking?" He looked at the floor.

"I couldn't help it."

"Oh God, I'm sorry." I said, "Don't listen to her. You're hair's fine and so is your job. She doesn't know what she's talking about."

"She seems kind of hard on you."

"Yeah, well, I was the problem child." I sat down on the couch and he sat down next to me, "I was the complete opposite of her growing up. We never agreed on anything. And my siblings only made it worse."

"How?"

"They were perfect. Tara was smart. She got straight A's. She went to a 'good' college and became a doctor. The my younger brother, Brandon, was the valedictorian of his senior class. He's going to school at Princeton."

"But what does that have to do with anything?"

I sighed. "It's what my mother wanted them to do. She wanted me to become a physical therapist. But I fought and whined until she broke down and went to Tyler School of Art. Then…I met Jason. And my mom was happy about that."

"But why? He hurt you."

"She doesn't know about that. He had a good job at some company. He sucked up to my mom, and she loved him."

"You said that it was all his fault though."

"It was. He…he pressured me into it. And then, when I found out that I was pregnant, he thought I should have an abortion. It's when you kill the baby before it's born. But I didn't want to." Tears started to form in my eyes. I had never, ever told anyone, not even Kate or Dave or my therapist about this, "That's when he started to drink heavily. And then…well, you know." I sniffed. I did my best to not cry, but it was too much. He put this arm around my shoulders and I started bawling.

"I'm sorry." He said.

I was too.


A/N: OKAY. The long awaited Thanksgiving chapter is over. But there will be many more surprises in store, so don't worry! And review. It makes me happy.