A/N: Alrighty, well, I wasn't planning on having any truly M stuff in this story, and personally, I don't like writing M material, it just grosses me out a tad, so nothing'll get graphic, actually it won't even get to the point where it would have to be graphic, but I thought I'd warn everyone, like Britannia, just incase. O.K., well, here goes nothing…

Oh, and polls close Friday, lol.

-Lizzie

Chapter 10: Making Dad Mad, Trying to Talk Mom Out of a Big Mistake, and

I didn't really want to talk to anyone, and truthfully, I didn't want an explanation of why Brad saved Dad, in fact, I was just glad he did. I headed up to my room, not noticing that Brad had followed me. I sat down on my bed, and I wanted to think about everything. What I was getting myself into, why I was getting myself into it, and how in God's name was I going to be a mom. I didn't know why, but when I had Braxton-Hicks contractions for the first time, it hit me that this was actually happening. I don't know what I had thought it was before today, but now it was real, and that scared me more than anything else in the world.

I was thinking about this, and giving myself another ulcer, when Brad came strolling in and sat down next to me, "Hey," he said

"Hey," I said, not looking at him, I just stared off into space, thinking.

"Are…you O.K.?"

"Not really, but I guess, kind of."

He nodded, as he stared off into space also. We sat there in silence for a really long time, before I finally sighed and turned to Brad, "What if we can't do this?"

"Do what…?"

"Be parents! I know I can't do it, the kid'll need therapy, I'm causing so many pre-birth issues for this child!"

"Dana, Dana, calm down. You overreacted waaay to easily, you'll be a great mother,"

"No. No, I won't. According to my Dad, I have no sense of responsibility,"

"What?"

"It's a lonnnnnnnng story. Anyway, I can't do this, I know I can't do this,"

"What exactly can't you do? Love the baby? Be responsible for it? Be handle being called Mom? What?"

I sighed, but it didn't come out normally, it came out choppy like I was going to start crying, "Everything, accept I know I'll love it,"

"Dana, we can handle this, alright? As long as we have each other, we can make it,"

I half smiled, and hugged him, he was right though. As long as I had him, Mom, and Dad, I would be fine.

The next day, I hadn't really thought about anything, I kind of just appreciated what was around me for once, instead of living in my thoughts. I walked down Boston City Square almost skipping. I was just, happy. Not for any particular reason, just in a good mood, man was that a change. I hadn't really gone shopping to shop, I had gone to just be outside, and enjoy being in the place where it all began.

When I got back home, what was about to happen wasn't on my mind until I saw Brad. I don't know what it was about him that looked any different, he looked exactly the same, but while he was standing there with Dad, and they were talking. Actually talking, and Dad didn't look mad, mean, or threatening at all. He just looked different. I walked up the steps, and into passed them on the porch, as I walked passed Brad, I ran my hand along his shoulder, which practically made him jump. I'm guessing they didn't notice I was there.

"Hi," he said

"Hey," I answered

"Wow, you're in a good mood," Dad said

"I'm about to be in a better one," I said, my glance not leaving Brad.

"Oh Lord…" Dad said

"I'll um…talk to you later, Phil." Brad said his glance not leaving me.

Dad rolled his eyes, and Brad and I dashed into the house.

We almost didn't even bother making it up the stairs, because we started kissing in the hallway, and I backed myself up against the wall. And it probably would've happened there, if Mom wouldn't have left the kitchen. My coat was thrown across the hall, and I think it might've almost hit Mom, because I heard her say, "Whoa!" and move.

Uh-oh, I thought. I pulled back, and my head hit the wall, and Brad looked confused, so I nodded in Mom's direction, and just as he was turning she cleared her throat, but it sounded way to 'A-hem' to be unintentional.

"Hey, Mom." I said

"Well, this is a change. Why the hall?" She said
"Mom, we didn't know you were in here,"

"Huh…well, I'd leave and let you have the hallway, but your Dad's about sending flames in here,"

All our heads turned toward the screen door, where of course, was Dad, sending death flame rays through the screen at us. I looked away, "Damn!" I said to myself.

Brad, who was still holding my waist, quickly flung his hands back as if he was about to be apprehended by the police.

"I'll handle him, you two go ahead," Mom whispered.

I nodded, and Brad and I slowly proceeded up the stairs.

"You and my Dad were finally getting along, and I mess it up."
"No you didn't. He'll get over it,"

I sighed, not really sure if he would. Dad was just like that, he could not let things go easily, not at all.

He and I walked into my room, and shut the door behind us. We stood there kissing for a long time, again, very afraid of interruption, but nothing. Finally when we were brave enough to remove each others shirts, the floor creaked, and he and I about hit the ceiling.

"It was just the floor," I said, praying that it was.

His hand slid down my back, and stopped at my waist. It didn't go any further, just stopped there. I was a tad afraid it was never going to, because we were both afraid that our usual visitor would be dropping by anytime soon.

No progress had been made about ten minutes after that, all we had done was stand there, French kissing. And I was almost going to suggest he snap it up, when he got the idea, and slid his hand down my back again, and just as it reached my waist…

KNOCK, KNOCK

Brad flew back like I had just morphed into Medusa. I threw my head back and groaned, "You have GOT to be kidding me!" I said, reaching over to the bed, and grabbing the nearest shirt, which couldn't have been mine, because my life doesn't work like that, and put it on. Then I threw open the door, and who stood there? Who else.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Oh, I'm early?" he said

"You're what?"

"Your Mom said, 'Don't bother them for one hour,' so I didn't, but I appear to be early,"

I looked at the ceiling like, 'Lord, what did I do?' then I sighed in irritation and said, "Do you have to knock at all, can't you wait to discuss whatever it is that SO important you absolutely can't wait until we get downstairs?"

"Well, I guess…"

"Dad, I really don't want to be mean here, but this happens every time."

Dad nodded, and looked at Brad with the death stare and said, "I'll talk to you later,"

"O.K.," I said practically slamming the door behind him.

I turned to Brad and sighed, "Oh he'll get over it all right,"

We resumed what we were doing, but I just knew Mom and Dad were arguing about it downstairs, partially because I could I could hear them. Anyway, I was lying on my side, facing Brad as we listened to Mom and Dad go on and on and ON about me. Me, and my life, me and my current situation, me and Brad, me and college. Grant it, I was used to everything being about me, because I'm an only child, but this was the most they'd talked about me, ever. I heard them exchanged curse words, then I heard clunking up the stairs. I was about to start laughing, because my parents never did things like that, never yelled, never swore at each other, or in general. And they had just done both, it was like, Parents Gone Wildor something. But what stopped me mid-laugh, was the sound of someone crying. That's right, crying. And I sat up to listen, and sure enough, that's someone crying. And my Dad's a sentimental guy, always nearly tears up every time we watch Homeward Bound, but I've never seen my Dad full out cry. So I was almost ninety-nine percent positive it was Mom. I immediately felt bad, she was crying because of me, even if it wasn't because of me, they had been arguing about me, so that generally makes all problems that follow the discussion semi my fault. I about jumped up, but remembered, I was only wearing a bra, so I took a blanket off the headboard, and wrapped it around my waist, and tied it like a sarong, so it wouldn't fall off. Brad looked at me like he knew what I was going to do, he knows me way to well, and he didn't look happy about it, "You're not going to talk to her about it, are you?" He asked like it wasn't a question, he knew that's what I was going to do.

"Maybe…" I answered

"Let them work it out, you, despite your amazing power to fix things by meddling, are not going to be able to do anything about it,"

"Dahling," I said in a mock Zsa Zsa Gabor voice, "Has that ever stopped me before?"

"Good point."

I smiled, and opened the door, and shut it quickly behind him.

I headed across the short hallway to Mom and Dad's room, the door was shut, so I knocked, there was no answer, so I knocked again, and then just opened the door. Mom was lying on her and Dad's bed, partially under a blanket, she looked like she was asleep, so I went to cover her up with the sheet, and as I did she grabbed my wrist, and I about hit the ceiling.

"Dana…?"
"Yeah…?" I answered, trying to stop my heart from racing since she'd about scared me to death/

"I don't think I can stay married to your Dad,"

I almost fainted, I tried to move so I could sit down, but it was difficult because she was still holding my wrist.

"He can't handle this, and I really think it's best that we don't stay married,"
"Mom, you've only been married for three years,"

"Yeah, but we've been together for twenty-eight."

"Talk about wasted youth,"

"Hey!" Mom let go of my wrist, and sat up straight, "What do you think?"

I didn't know to say, my first instinct was to say, 'What are you, CRAZY! Stay with him!' But I wanted it to seem like I had given a ton of profound thought to my answer, "Well, Mom, you guys are like Heinz and Ketchup, Nick and Jessica, French's and Mustard, Clark and Lana, you guys just go together. And you guys just can't end a relationship over a disagreement, no one would get anywhere if everyone did that."

Mom looked at me like I had a point, but her response didn't say the same, "I don't know, Dana." She stared at me, then looked down at my blanket skirt, then looked back at me like, 'Do I want to know?' so I just said, "I had to come in here and see if you were O.K., so I didn't put much thought into bottom wear,"

Mom shook her head, and said, "Well, what'll happen in nineteen years when you're the one here talking to your kid about divorce when their about to have a kid themselves. I'll probably be dead by then…"
"Mom!"

"Well, let's see, in nineteen years, you'll be thirty-eight, and I'll be…sixty-five."

"See, you won't be dead! I'll be sixty-five and almost a great grandmother, trust me sweetie, I'll want to be dead," I could tell she was joking, because when I thought about it, sixty-five WAS young for a great-grandmother. I also laughed, and looked at Mom, she looked really different, like she was a different person now. She was going to be a grandmother a forty-five year old grandmother. Suddenly, I got this horrible nauseous feeling in my stomach, no wonder my parents were turning on each other, they were depressed and mad. And it was all because of me.

A/N: Sorry I didn't update this last night, was going to, but Lexi, (half sis) made me get off, so I had to update it now. Polls are closing Friday, or later, depends on when Britannia updates her story and advertises they're closing, so the tie can break between two names!

--Lizzie--