A/N: Merry Belated Christmas and Happy New Year! I'll have my typical notes at the end of the fic, but I feel the need to include a trigger warning for racist remarks on this one. Know that the remarks of the character in question (not a canon character) in no way reflect my personal views or opinions. Skip to the bottom section of author's notes for a more in-depth description of the events if you have a concern. Thank you!
Here's to Many More
"Where's your girlfriend?"
The voice came from right next to Max's ear, startling him and making him jump in the middle of refilling his punch glass. Thankfully most of it spilled off the ladle and back into the bowl. He moved a pile of napkins to cover the few drops that soiled his mom's white linen tablecloth. She was in a good mood today, but not that good.
He turned around, only to meet a strikingly similar pair of blue eyes.
"Mallory?!" he asked, eyebrows raising as a grin spread across his face of its own volition. "When did you get here?"
Max's favorite cousin smiled back at him, all perfect white teeth and dimples, and pulled him into a hug. She smelled like expensive perfume and cold night air.
"Only a couple of minutes ago," she said, squeezing him tighter. "Think Aunt Judy said you were takin' a call on the fire escape?" She stepped out of the embrace, leaving her hands curled around his shoulders and gave him a quizzical look. "Was it your hotter than sin girlfriend? Who I haven't been introduced to yet, by the way."
Max blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. Hilary had called to wish him a Merry Christmas. Somehow he didn't think that was who Mallory was talking about.
"Oh, uh…" He hadn't seen Mallory in at least two years, and a billion questions for her were buzzing around his brain. The first he could manage to blabber was: "'Hotter than sin'?"
Mallory threw her head back and laughed, drawing the attention of nearby guests and making Max's blush deepen. Most of their relatives just shook their heads and went back to their conversations; the familiar dynamic of a teasing Mallory and an embarrassed Max was a welcome nostalgia.
He shrugged her hands off and retreated to a secluded corner of his mom's apartment. Technically it was his too; he spent more time in the dorms across town, but his bedroom hadn't been converted into a guest room just yet.
Mallory followed him, which he expected, snagging a glass of champagne along the way. When she took her first sip, none of her bright red lipstick stuck to the rim. She didn't grill him right away, instead letting her gaze slide out the window to admire the city below.
"Y'know," she said with a faraway look in her eye, "sometimes when I'm visiting, I can understand why your mama never moved back to Alabama. New York has its own kinda magic."
Max caught himself frowning. It wasn't that he disagreed, exactly. The city had been a place he called home for as long as he could remember, and there was a feeling of endless possibilities he'd come to associate it with. At Christmastime, it was even more beautiful.
It was just that, his mom's high-rise apartment – with its spacious floor plan, overabundance of clean lines, and miles-long view – wasn't the cozy brownstone he remembered from his childhood. This apartment was built strictly to impress and that home was long gone, living on in his fuzziest memories of a time before his mom was more focused on chasing her career than chasing after him.
Part of Max would always wish it hadn't been so easy to outrun her, but he wasn't about to sour the mood by admitting that out loud to Mallory.
He shook his head and took a drink, forcing the weird melancholy to the back of his mind.
"But about Miss Hotter-Than-Sin…"
Max choked on his punch. Thankfully he avoided spraying it all over the garland his mom had paid to have the windows lined with, as he coughed into his elbow.
His eyes were watering when he gasped out, "That's not how my mom described her." If he was sure of anything, he was sure of that.
Mallory giggled.
"She used words like 'harlot' and 'temptress'." The way she stuck her nose in the air and dropped her southern drawl for those two words really sold the impression. Max cringed, even as she laughed again and said with a casual shrug, "I connected the dots. Mama's don't worry when their sons date ugly girls."
He rubbed his free hand over his face. Of course his mom called home and complained about Mariam like she was some seductress stringing her son along. Suddenly he was actually glad that his girlfriend flew home when she did – bringing her to the party would've essentially been throwing her to the wolves.
"Is she really three years older than you?"
"Mallory…" Max warned and shot her a glare with no real heat behind it. There was more heat in his cheeks, and he was hit with the sudden urge to press his face against the cold window. "Stop." It sounded whinier than he anticipated, which only made his blush worsen.
"'Cause if that's the case," Mallory continued, her smirk the only sign she'd heard him at all, "she's even older than me—"
"This is why I didn't bring her!" Max snapped, cutting her off. He nearly spilled his punch again when he threw his hands to the side in frustration. He growled and set his glass firmly on the window sill. When he caught a glimpse of Mallory's stricken face reflected in the window, his anger dissolved into guilt.
"I'm sorry," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. She wasn't trying to be backhanded, unlike every other relative that had asked after Mariam that evening. "Can we just talk about something else?"
She came closer and swapped her glass with his. When he shot her a puzzled look, she said, "Don't tell Aunt Judy, but you need that more than I do tonight."
Max snorted. The champagne wasn't sweet enough for his tastes, but the feeling of the bubbles popping over his wrinkled nose was a good distraction from his mood.
Mallory was nice enough not to laugh at his scowl. Instead, she took a sip of punch and asked, "How's your dad?"
"He's good," Max answered with a smile. He'd just gotten off the phone with him when Hilary called. "The shop keeps him busy this time of year, otherwise he'd be here." At least that's the reason he'd gotten on the phone. Sometimes he didn't know where his parents' relationship stood; the fact that neither of them had asked to speak to the other earlier didn't indicate anything good.
"And here I thought he was smart," Mallory joked, elbowing Max playfully until he gave in and shoved her back.
"If he's dumb for wanting to be here, what does that make us?"
"Victims," she answered so seriously that neither of them could contain their giggles.
Max didn't care that he could feel a mixture of questioning and disapproving looks being thrown their way, he was glad Mallory was here. Sometimes he felt like she was the only sane relative on his mom's side, and he hadn't realized how isolating the gathering felt until she showed up.
"Do you remember," Mallory paused to wipe a tear from her eye, which set them both off again, before managing to continue, "when your dad would come to these things dressed as Santa Claus? And bring all of us toys?"
He nodded.
"Yeah, I do."
That was a brownstone memory. Except they didn't throw the party. Back then, they'd hop a plane south and spend the holiday at the sprawling estate his mother had grown up in. From Christmas Eve to New Years, he, Mallory, and the rest of their cousins would watch holiday specials and have snowball fights from sunup to sundown. Back when things were simple and none of them realized how different they really were.
"Mom used to complain about the Santa suit taking up a whole suitcase." He swirled his drink around the glass instead of taking another sip.
"I got so mad at the others when they started sayin' we were too old for it," Mallory chuckled, subconsciously shooting a glance at the gaggle of older cousins and their put-together spouses over by the bar. "Far as I'm concerned, your daddy could show up dressed as Santa right now. Then the party would really start."
Max smiled and skimmed his eyes over the group before addressing Mallory again.
"I think your brother would appreciate a Rolex more than a yo-yo these days."
"Ugh, don't remind me!" Mallory groaned. A pained expression settled on her face. "Do you know his wife bought him one as a Christmas gift?"
Max raised his eyebrows. He didn't find that particularly surprising; everyone in his mom's family had more money than they knew what to do with. Normally that didn't appall his cousin – she didn't know life any other way – so he waited for the other shoe to drop.
Mallory nodded and leaned in to say, "From their unborn baby, no less." Her eyes rolled so far back into her head that they were entirely white for a moment. "It's engraved. I put on good act when she showed me, but I think your dad's gifts were more meaningful. The lengths he went to to put smiles on our faces…"
She stared off into space again, and Max forced more champagne past the knot in his throat.
He distinctly remembered some of his cousins discarding their presents as soon as they unwrapped the latest electronic from their own parents. And he remembered said parents turning their noses up at his dad's enthusiasm. He'd never said, but it must have been disheartening for him.
Suddenly Max was homesick. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat.
"That's how I got my first beyblade."
Mallory reached over and squeezed his forearm.
"Yes! I remember," she enthused, sunny expression clearing some of the clouds out of Max's head. "I got one too, and we wouldn't touch any other toy all week. Though, I think you kept up with it more that I did after that, World Champion and all." She winked at him.
He shrugged, dipping his head down bashfully. Mallory had on boots that came the whole way up over her knees and he had on loafers because his mom said the boots he'd trudged across the city in were too casual.
"You gave me a run for my money back then."
"Don't be modest!" Mallory gave him a shake. She was smiling when he looked at her and it was contagious. "If you start bragging now, maybe they'll let you stand in the Big Boy Circle next year." She nodded towards the bar where her brother was busy taking advantage of the fact that he had a DD by default.
Max's face contorted of its own volition, fully displaying his disinterest, and Mallory burst into giggles again. He grabbed her shoulder and angled them both so their backs were to the rest of the room.
"You're gonna get us in trouble!" he scolded through his own amusement.
"You're the one that needs to control his face!"
Mallory eventually got her laughter under control. When she polished off her drink and discarded the glass on the window sill, Max set his down beside it. They shared another bout of silence, staring out into the twinkling cityscape.
With a sigh, Mallory looped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. When they were younger, and she was still taller, it was usually his head on her shoulder. If he could find where his mom kept their old photo albums, he'd find half a dozen faded pictures proving it.
"I know you said to change the subject," Mallory started, not commenting on the sudden stiffness in his posture, "but what does your dad think of your girlfriend?"
Max bit his lip.
"Why?"
He could feel her eyes on him – could see her reflection peering curiously up at his – but he didn't make eye contact.
"'Cause he's less crazy than the rest of the family," she said bluntly, but with a clear fondness for her uncle seeping through. "And I sure as hell hope your mystery hottie follows the trend, because I don't know who'll hold the line otherwise."
"My dad actually really likes her," he answered, resolutely ignoring the second statement despite the heat rising in his cheeks again. "Happy?"
"It bodes well." She patted him on the arm. "Means there's a good chance you'll bring some sanity to the gene pool."
Max pulled his arm away and said, "It's a little early to talk like that, Mallory."
"I'm only saying, she must be somethin' special to catch the eye of a mama's boy like you. Aunt Judy says you even sneak outta the dorms to canoodle with her."
Her expression proved she was teasing, but Max groaned and hid his face in his hands anyway.
"What about you?" he asked when he could trust himself to talk without stammering. "Haven't you met anyone?"
"Oh, I've met plenty of boys," Mallory said, plucking up his discarded glass and downing the last of the champagne inside. "They're all either cavemen or too much like"—she gestured around the room—"everybody here."
Max surveyed the room. Doctors, politicians, lawyers, and a lot of other people from old money who thought that made them better than the rest of the planet. He used to think his mom was different, but ever since Mariam came into the picture, he saw another side of her. Maybe if he'd come to more family gatherings in recent years, he'd have noticed the transition.
"I'll let you know if I find a diamond in the rough, though," Mallory continued. "Then you can bring that girlfriend of yours to the wedding."
He made a noncommittal noise. It was doubtful that Mariam would come to any get-together that featured his mom's half of the family so heavily, but he wouldn't mind she and Mallory meeting someday. Maybe one of these years they'd all spend Christmas in Japan with his dad instead.
They were quiet for a while. Max caught snippets of their other relatives' conversations here and there, but nothing that made much sense out of context. Most of the time it was a comforting background noise, assuring him that he and Mallory and their talk of Max's love life were far from the center of attention.
"Max, your girlfriend…"
"Hm?" He turned to Mallory, tilting his head in curiosity.
"What's her name?"
The smile that wormed its way onto his face was involuntary; a reflex when he said, "Mariam."
Mallory studied him and he got the feeling that she was reading him like a book. She nodded to herself.
"You should invite her next year."
Max's heart raced against Mariam's knuckles. She had a death grip on his sweater with one hand; the other was curled around his neck, using the leverage to keep his lips on hers.
He'd never understood why his mom paid a decorator every year when they had perfectly good, albeit mismatched, decorations in storage. But if it were up to his mom, there wouldn't be mistletoe hanging at the top of every window, so maybe the professionals knew a thing or two.
Mariam's thumb stroked his jaw.
With a sigh, he tightened his hold on her waist and pulled her closer, fingers catching her ribs and making her gasp. Max took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, the feeling of Mariam's nails grazing his scalp as her hand wove into his hair sending a chill down his spine.
And then she was letting go of his cable-knit, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, and rising onto her toes to press their chests together. She only paused for a second to change the angle of their kiss – not nearly enough time for Max to catch his breath – before her tongue was licking the seam of his lips again.
"Max!"
He jumped and pulled back, bottom lip catching between Mariam's teeth for a split second that felt like eons with his mother watching. The gleam in his girlfriend's eyes proved she'd done it on purpose. The murder in Judy's narrow gaze proved she'd gotten the message. He felt his face heat up; Mariam was delicately wiping the corners of her mouth dry.
"Sorry."
Mariam scoffed and rolled her eyes, no doubt unimpressed with the fact that he offered an apology at all.
His mom looked downright livid.
Only one person, poking her head around the corner as she shrugged out of a long, ruby red peacoat, looked happy.
"We have guests, Max," Judy snapped tersely, gesturing to a grinning Mallory. Her eyes roamed over him and Mariam, painting them with wide strokes of disapproval. Her lip nearly curled when Mariam smoothed out his sweater in deliberately slow movements. "Maybe you haven't noticed."
Max was pretty confident that nobody was supposed to arrive for at least another thirty minutes, but he wasn't surprised that his cousin showed her face sooner. Judy had spent a lot of time on the phone complaining to her relatives about Max bringing his no-good girlfriend over, and news traveled fast.
"Oh, I think he noticed," Mallory laughed. She smiled at Mariam, unfazed by the guarded expression on her face, then winked at Max. "Seems to me he was being plenty hospitable."
Just when it had faded, Max's blush was back in full force.
His mom opened her mouth – to reprimand or gape, he wasn't sure – but Mallory interrupted, "By the way, were those your caterers lookin' lost down in the lobby, Aunt Judy?"
Judy huffed. "They were supposed to be here almost an hour ago," she groused and, with one last warning glance shot in their direction, she excused herself and strode briskly out of the apartment.
"Well," Mallory exclaimed, tossing her coat over a nearby armchair and clasping her hands together, "there's your mama on a different warpath for now." She smiled again and Max felt Mariam stiffen next to him, falling back on old defense mechanisms.
"For now," she replied and crossed her arms over her chest.
Max cleared his throat, willing the last traces of his blush away. "Uh, Mallory, this"—he rested his hand low on Mariam's back and she relaxed some—"is my girlfriend Mariam. Mariam, this is—"
"Mallory," the blonde interrupted, stepping forward and offering her hand. "I'm his favorite cousin."
Slowly, Mariam closed the distance and accepted Mallory's handshake.
Max watched as they sized each other up, more nervous than he'd expected to know what each thought of the other. Mallory seemed to be examining Mariam closely, looking her up and down more intently than he thought she would. He wondered if she was comparing what she saw to his mother's biased descriptions.
Mariam wasn't oblivious. She had a dangerous look on her face, like she was steeling herself for a fight. "Looking for something?" she asked sarcastically, fingers twitching in Mallory's grasp.
"Horns," Mallory answered simply, making Max's eyebrows knit together in confusion. She was smiling again, the same teasing smile she usually saved for him. "Or maybe fangs. Aunt Judy talks about you like you're some kinda sex demon out to corrupt her baby boy."
Mariam grinding her jaw was the last thing Max saw before he groaned and hid his face in his hands. No one needed to witness him blush for the third time in ten minutes.
"Mallory."
"You trust her judgment often?" Mariam deadpanned, voice carefully neutral in a way that could spell trouble depending on what kind of reply she received.
"Almost never," Mallory replied, "especially not over Max's. With his seal of approval, you don't need to convince me."
She sounded so sincere that he let his hands fall away from his face.
Mariam was watching Mallory with an unreadable expression. He couldn't blame her for keeping her guard up, given how his mom had always treated her, but some unseen shift in their dynamic made him think his cousin had just earned her way past Mariam's outermost defenses.
"I can see why she's intimidated by you though," Mallory continued, unfazed by Mariam's silence. "No man in his right mind would pick their mama over a girl like you. And I mean "girl like you" in a way nicer way than anyone else that says it tonight will mean it. Our family…" She could only grimace.
Mariam snorted. "Max warned me."
"Thanks for coming, anyway." He got her attention by weaving his fingers through hers and squeezing her hand. He knew she liked Mallory when she let him get away with it in front of her. "You didn't have to." He'd tried to be explicitly clear about what she could expect ahead of time, so she wasn't going in blind. It was a shock when she accepted his invitation.
Mariam squeezed his hand back, and replied, "Anything to piss off your mom."
The distant sound of angry voices interrupted the moment.
"Must be the caterer's motto, too," Mallory observed, as the voices got louder. Max recognized his mom's voice and several of their more vocal relatives complaining about finding good help. When the front door opened, amplifying the ruckus, Mallory turned to them and said, "Let the party begin."
They got off easy at the start. Mallory's family was the first to arrive, alongside his mom and several catering staff that were probably wishing they'd never found the place. Everyone so preoccupied with talking down on the caterers and sharing the scandal with the rest of the family as they showed up, that it was a while before anyone remembered Max brought a date.
When the introductions finally began, it was mostly fake smiles and upturned noses. Sometimes they were asked questions that he knew his mom had already answered in her own way, making whatever he and Mariam might say a moot point. They got good at keeping it short and concise so the conversations were over faster, and Mallory got good at intercepting Judy and handing her a cocktail when it looked like she was on her way to stir up trouble.
Mariam's hand never left his, a single, defiant grounding element in the face of his mom's family. Max could think of worse things.
The roughest snag came when Mallory's dad cornered them halfway through, whiskey in hand, and asked: "So, what do you do to afford traipsing all over the world?"
The question was directed at Mariam in a tone Max didn't like. It was a tone that promised nothing she answered would be good enough. He probably thought Max funded his girlfriend's travels or that she was mixed up in something sketchy, judging by his suspicious squint.
Honestly, if he'd been speaking to Judy on a tirade, he could think anything.
Max chewed his lip, mentally beginning a dozen different answers in the moment it took Mariam to speak up.
"Translation work." Her voice was casual, but her body was poised to fight. "Mostly for the BBA."
Sheaves of photos from excavation sites and of other rocks, like the one his mom used to study, found their way into her possession on an irregular basis. Mr. Dickenson was always interested to hear what she could make of them, and he was certain the rest of her tribe enjoyed having a wider range of intel.
After all, the more the sport of beyblading grew, the higher the risk of bitbeasts falling into the wrong hands became. Mariam was uniquely positioned to make sure that didn't happen by keeping those that could be trusted in the loop.
As expected, none of that impressed his uncle.
"Ah," he said, more condescending than Max had ever heard someone come across in a single syllable. "I didn't realize there was such a demand for Korean translators."
Max winced.
"I'm Chinese," Mariam said coldly. Her body was a taut line at Max's side and he could feel her anger simmering beneath the surface.
"My mistake," was his smarmy reply. He didn't even try to look apologetic. Instead, he looked rather pleased with himself as he swirled his whiskey around to study its amber color. "You speak English very well for a beginner. We'll have to invite you the next time we go for hibachi – maybe seeing you in action will endear my sister to you more."
Max's mouth fell open, partly in shock and partly in pain; Mariam was squeezing his hand so hard he swore he could feel the bones grinding together.
"You speak English well for somebody who never evolved past the neanderthal stage," she forced out from between gritted teeth. Instead of correcting him again or telling him that she could hold her own in Japanese as well – both things on the tip of Max's tongue – she simply asked, "How many languages can you speak?"
There was only a second to enjoy his uncle's enraged expression before Mallory appeared.
"Daddy!" she exclaimed, tugging on his arm until he wasn't staring Mariam down with flared nostrils. She sounded relieved. "There you are! Jimmy's looking for you – he wants a picture of all three generations of James Montgomery's together."
Following her nod, Max glanced over to the Christmas tree where her brother and his wife were forcing their son's fat arms into a tiny tuxedo jacket. His own mother was there, too, holding two cellphones in one hand, a drink in the other, and looking every part the reluctant photographer.
Mariam snorted.
Max's uncle rounded on them again, but before he could say anything, Mallory was pulling him away.
"C'mon, Daddy, window's closin'. If the baby starts to cry it's all over."
"I told Judy just to hire a photographer," Uncle James scoffed, before downing his drink in one gulp and slamming the empty glass into Mallory's palm. He spared Max and Mariam one long, disapproving stare, before turning his nose up at them entirely and letting Mallory guide him away.
Without needing to talk about it, Max and Mariam both decided to be anywhere else in the apartment when he was finished, just in case. That conversation wasn't one either of them cared for a repeat of.
They found themselves by the window again. Mariam leaned against the sill where the cool glass could help her calm down and she had a view of anyone approaching. Max lingered between her and the rest of the room, mussing up his hair as he ran a hand through it and let out a deep breath.
"I'm so sorry, Mariam."
"And I thought your mom was bad," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Judy might hold the title for the family member who disliked Mariam the most, but she was far from the worst member of the Montgomery family. Max knew some of the things his uncle had said would've never come out of his mom's mouth. At least, he hoped not. Sometimes it was hard to tell with her.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, because he didn't know what else to say. He closed the distance between them and laced their fingers together. They'd gotten through most of the night like that, maybe they could get through the rest of the party too.
Mariam waved off his apology with her free hand. "You aren't the one who should be sorry, Max." There was a softness in her gaze just for him when she met his eyes. It quickly diminished, replaced with suspicion, when she caught sight of someone past his shoulder.
"She's right."
Max whipped around, panic giving way to relief when he saw Mallory. She'd discarded the whiskey glass somewhere along the way and picked up a flute of champagne. He slouched against the window sill next to Mariam.
"This is my reward for keeping your mama occupied," she said, having followed his line of vision. "It's a full-time job." She paused to take a sip, unbothered by the silence from a wary Mariam and Max, who was just plain exhausted with the so-called festivities.
"You two know how to make an impression," Mallory continued, coming to join their congregation at the window. "Daddy says to tell your girlfriend to learn some respect." Max felt instant anger like a switch had been flipped and his cousin patted his hand. "And that usually means he deserved to be taken down a peg or two. So cheers!" She leaned past Max to address Mariam and raised her glass to her.
Mariam seemed caught off-guard. "Thanks, I guess," she said, sharing a moment of eye contact with Mallory. Something she saw made her relax a little – Max felt the shift in her posture. "And thanks for interrupting when you did."
"You're welcome!" She seemed genuinely happy to have Mariam's approval. "Should be outta your hair for a while – the baby takes awful pictures."
"Mallory!" Max laughed.
"He does though!" she said, shoving him with her shoulder. "It'll take your mama dozens of tries to get one where he looks happy. Few dozen more to get one everybody else is happy with. Cherish this time," she advised, taking another sip.
The rest of the party passed by smoothly in comparison. Mallory eventually left to run more interference and get Judy another drink. Max and Mariam avoided any more charged conversations by helping (Mallory told Judy they were "overseeing".) the caterers clean up in the kitchen.
By the time they were done, the guests were mostly gone. Max didn't let himself think about what it meant that none of them had said goodbye.
After warning him that under no circumstances was Mariam to spend the night, his mom went to bed. Her cheeks were flushed, steps the tiniest bit unsteady, and Mallory looked awfully pleased with her handiwork.
"About time your mama let loose a little," she commented, pouring three glasses of eggnog out of a pitcher the caterers had left behind. It seemed an unspoken understanding between the three of them that the night wasn't over just yet.
Max collapsed onto the couch. It felt especially soft after standing rigidly all night. His eyes slid shut.
"She'll be a bear in the morning," he groaned and sank further into the cushions. A smile wormed its way onto his face when he felt a familiar weight settle in next to him and across his lap. He squeezed one of Mariam's knees, before letting his hand rest just above it. When he opened his eyes, her lips twitched into a smile.
"Well, aren't you two cute?" Mallory cooed, passing them their drinks and settling herself into a nearby armchair. "And your mama'll be fine. She's a big girl – she can take an aspirin and get on with the day."
Mariam grimaced, whether from mention of his mom or her first taste of eggnog, Max wasn't sure.
"Let's talk about something else." He meant to address Mallory, but he was transfixed by the way the lights from the tree shone on Mariam's skin. For the first time all night, there was no one to tut at him for staring at her, so it was hard to rip his eyes away.
"You wanna talk about how pretty your girlfriend is?"
Max choked on his drink and Mallory burst into giggles as bubbly as the champagne she was drinking earlier.
Mariam's hand on his chest almost sent him into another fit; she stroked gently, silently urging him to breathe normally. Eventually he did, though his heart stayed racing. Mariam wasn't always one for public affection. The fact that she liked Mallory enough to let her walls down a bit spoke volumes.
"Easy," she drawled, bringing her mug up to her lips again. This time she didn't grimace.
"Y'all really do set a standard," Mallory interjected, putting a stop to Max's train of thought about how pretty Mariam's eyes were in the lights. "If a guy doesn't look at me like I'm the center of his universe when we're together, I think I'll have to break it off."
Max rolled his eyes even through his blush. "When I used to visit Mallory in Alabama, that's how every guy we weren't related to did look at her," he told Mariam.
Mallory scoffed. "All love is puppy love when you're eight." She was halfway done with her eggnog already and leaning into the arm of her chair. "Most of the boys I meet these days are more into my pedigree or our family's money than they are me."
Max felt sympathy for her in that moment. He barely survived one night with his mom's side of the family, but they were who Mallory went home to. It was probably a miracle she'd ended up as level-headed as she had.
"I did meet one guy who might've had stars in his eyes…" She trailed off with a shrug, tracing the rim of her mug with her pointer finger.
Mariam shuffled closer to Max, but didn't say a word, content to leave the mushy talk to him.
"Oh?" He trusted Mallory didn't need much prompting to go on, and she proved him right.
"He's sweet," she said. "Like, open-the-door and pull-out-your-chair kinda sweet, but he's also from money." She wrinkled her nose and shot him a look like he knew how that was.
Only he didn't. He was blissfully unaware of what the social elite thought was a proper match. He offered her an apologetic look and a shrug.
Mallory shrugged back. "I gotta put him through his paces before I commit," she explained with a sigh. "When you have money, you can pay people to make ya seem sweet, when really you're all messed up and decaying on the inside."
There was a lull in the conversation where they all drank their eggnog and stared blankly at the Christmas tree. Mallory's chin was in her hand and Max was starting to feel the length of the day in the way his eyelids drooped. It didn't help when Mariam's head hit his shoulder; she wasn't asleep, but it was a near thing.
"Well, on a more cheerful note," Mallory said, yawning into her hand, "it was nice meeting you, Mariam. As expected, the family drivel was inaccurate and unwarranted and I'd love to stay up and chat more"—she yawned again—"but I'm exhausted."
"Do you want me to call you a car?" Max asked, lamenting the loss of warmth as Mariam sat up and stretched.
Mallory's eyes flitted between them both and she shook her head.
"Nah, I was actually gonna ask if you'd mind me crashing in yours tonight, Max. Think I had too much to drink – I won't make it far."
Max blinked at her. As far as he could see, she was entirely sober.
"What, you want to stay in my room?"
She nodded and he stared at her, puzzled. He'd only come home from the dorms that morning, so it wasn't like his sheets were slept on, but it was still an odd request.
"We have a guest—"
"You gotta walk Mariam back to her hotel, right?" Mallory interrupted, staring pointedly at him like he wasn't grasping her meaning.
"Uh…" More than likely they'd make it down to the street and Mariam would stubbornly hail a taxi and order him back upstairs to get some rest. She stayed far enough away from his mom's building that they wouldn't cross paths randomly, and she wouldn't let Max go out of his way unnecessarily. "I guess?"
Max looked to Mariam who was watching his cousin with a curious expression.
"Aunt Judy said Mariam couldn't stay over and I can't see any sense in you coming the whole way back here after taking her to the hotel," Mallory ranted, rolling her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all. "So stay with Mariam tonight. Tuck her in. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to have you. I'll stay here and cover for ya in the morning."
She folded her hands in her lap like that was the matter all settled.
"Really?" Max had forgotten what it was like to introduce Mariam to someone who didn't know about the whole bitbeast fiasco or hate her on principle. It was a nice change of pace that, to Mallory, Mariam was just a girl his mom didn't approve of for some asinine reason. "Are you sure?"
"Sure, I'm sure," she said, smiling at them both, but making eye contact with Mariam. "Consider it a 'Welcome to the Family' Christmas gift from me."
Mariam didn't look like she knew how to respond and Max was beaming too wide to talk.
It seemed to be thanks enough for Mallory who simply said, "You're welcome and Merry Christmas."
Max had a feeling that, from here on out, the three of them would all get along just fine.
"He's not gonna remember any of this, you know."
Max smiled to himself as he finished situating his phone onto a tripod – a gift from Ray and Salima from whatever far corner of the world they were spending the winter this year – and glanced back at Mariam.
Even with dark circles under her eyes and their son chewing on the end of her ponytail, she was the most stunning woman he'd ever seen. The arch of her eyebrow meant that his admiration was showing plainly on his face, and he smiled wider.
"That's why we need a picture," he said, starting the timer and settling down by her side in front of the tree.
Mariam hummed skeptically, but snuggled up under his arm when he wrapped it around her.
His heart felt ridiculously full when he pulled his little family close for what was sure to be the first of many Christmas pictures together. Mariam rested her head on his shoulder, a good sport despite her exhaustion, and Maddox babbled incoherently as the timer hit zero.
Max knew without looking that it would be one of his all-time favorite pictures.
"Now he can remember," Max said, pressing a kiss to Mariam's temple and getting up to fetch his phone. He handed it to her to see when he sat back down and watched her features soften.
"And you can clutter up your office with another frame," she teased as she returned his phone. "You don't have one with us in matching pajamas yet, but I think you wore the hat last year." She reached up to give the pompom on the end of his Santa hat a tug, and Maddox's eyes followed the movement from the cradle of her arms. He thought for a second and then held out one chubby hand expectantly.
Max chuckled and handed it over. Maddox immediately put the pompom in his mouth, content for the time being.
"Isn't it weird to think that this time last year we were waiting for him to come along?"
"Yeah," Mariam snorted, nose crinkling as she flicked her slobbery ponytail over her shoulder. "He didn't let me get any sleep then, either." The fondness in her expression as she brushed Maddox's hair out of his eyes belied any frustration in her voice.
"And now he has his own car and everything," Max joked.
As expected, Mariam rolled her eyes to the ceiling with a groan. "Your cousin is insane."
Mallory's gift to Maddox for his first Christmas was a child-sized version of a luxury car that probably cost her more than Max's actual car's monthly payment. When he asked her about it she claimed that it was one hundred percent necessary and her husband agreed. Turned out she'd been right all those years ago about him having good money, but the big heart to go with it was a pleasant surprise.
"At least we talked her out of the all expenses paid trip to Aruba," he pointed out, garnering another eye roll from his wife. He watched, mesmerized, as she rocked and bounced Maddox to sleep. "Dad would've missed us at Christmas."
"He still might if we don't get a move on," Mariam commented, getting up to lower Maddox into his playpen where he would, hopefully, nap while they got ready to go.
Max nodded once in confirmation. "I'll clean up the wrapping paper and keep an eye on Maddox if you want to wash the drool out of your hair."
"Hmm… that might be my favorite gift this year," she answered, stealing a quick kiss before trotting upstairs.
Max was grateful to see she looked more awake after a hot shower. He took his turn next while she started loading the car, and they fell into a well-practiced rotation of preparations before dressing Maddox together and heading out the door.
Fussy from being woken up before he was ready, Maddox cried the whole way to his dad's. Even Mariam climbing into the back seat at a stoplight didn't stop him from spitting his pacifier out and shaking his fists. Max's ears were ringing by the time they arrived.
His arms were laden with baby supplies and presents for his parents and Mariam was shushing Maddox when his dad flung open the door for them.
"Ho ho ho! What do we have here?" He was addressing Maddox, who had stopped wailing from the shock and confusion of seeing his grandfather dressed head-to-toe in a Santa suit. Mariam looked similarly stunned and Max bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Is someone being naughty for his parents?"
Mariam gratefully surrendered the baby to him when he held out his mittened hands. "He's cranky from keeping me up all night," she explained, following her father-in-law into the Hobby Shop.
Taro clucked his tongue and shook his head at Maddox, whose eyes caught the familiar sway of a pompom immediately. He was chewing on his second Santa hat of the day in no time and, when Mariam and Max navigated through the shop with their armfuls of supplies and made it to the apartment upstairs, he was fast asleep in his grandfather's arms.
"Figures," Mariam sighed at the sight, dropping the baby bag onto a chair.
"Little fella just missed his grandpa." Taro winked, adjusting his hold on the baby to pull Mariam into a one-armed hug. "Merry Christmas!" He held her there long after she returned the sentiment and it made Max smile; over the years his father grew to see Mariam as part of the family, even before it was official, and he always made sure she felt welcome.
"Or maybe it's the hat," Max chuckled, adding their presents to the hefty pile already waiting beneath the tree.
"I told him the suit was too much trouble to go to at Maddox's age." Judy appeared from somewhere deeper in the apartment and kissed Max on the cheek. Mariam got a curt nod from across the room and Max had a feeling that suited her just fine. "At least when you were small there were more kids running around."
"Guess that means we need a few more grandkids," Taro suggested with a twinkle in his eye.
To Max's surprise, Mariam didn't totally dismiss the idea. "Maybe in a year to two," she snorted, shooting a glance his way like she could sense the way his heart sped up with excitement. "Let me get a few months in before sacrificing a good night's sleep again."
"Sleep regression is typical in children his age," Judy supplied unhelpfully, crossing the room to stand at Taro's side. Max was preparing for the fallout if she woke Maddox up trying to take him from his grandfather, but she simply stroked his plump cheek and watched him doze. "But it doesn't last forever."
Max knew that, while his mom wasn't particularly fond of Mariam, she would love more grandkids just as much as his dad would. Her words were as close to a blessing as they'd probably get, given the circumstances, but at least it wasn't judgment veiled as parenting advice like they sometimes received from her.
"Maddox is welcome to spend the night here any time you want to start trying," Taro said with a wink in Max's direction, causing him to blush, " whether he sleeps or not."
"Taro!" Judy scolded shrilly.
Maddox stirred at the sound, but Taro was quick to lull him back into slumber with the deep rumble of his laughter and a slow rocking motion.
"Tyson said something about maybe bringing Bennett over later," Max changed the subject, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's younger than Maddox, but it'll be one more kid."
"Mallory will have two kids by next year," Mariam added, breathing life into Max's old idea of spending a Christmas in Japan with his cousin. A lot had changed since he'd first considered it, but it sounded no less appealing. "Could invite her."
"I think she'd rather spend the holidays with her family," Judy interjected matter-of-factly.
Preoccupied with her grandson, she failed to notice the palpable silence and awkward glances the other three adults in the room shared; none of them had been to a Montgomery family gathering in a few years. Max was pretty sure Mallory would jump at the chance to spend her holidays somewhere else, so long as her husband's more reasonable family didn't mind.
"Presents?" Max's dad suggested after a moment.
And just like that the day progressed in a flurry of presents, photos, food, and conversation.
Tyson and Hilary did eventually bring their son, and both babies got passed around and doted on. At one point, Max had one asleep on each shoulder and he couldn't help but look Mariam's way, imagining that, one day soon, it would be two of their own.
When he drove home at the end of the night, both Mariam and Maddox were asleep within minutes.
He lost himself in sentimental thoughts his wife would roll her eyes fondly at, like how special seeing Mariam and Maddox celebrating with his parents and friends was, and how, one of these days, Mallory and another baby might be added to the mix.
No matter what, he knew that with Mariam – and now Maddox – his Christmases would always be merry.
A/N: About the tw: Max and Judy have a relative who purposefully mistakes Mariam's ethnicity for the sake of pissing her off/insulting her. If you want to skip the moment, stop reading after: "As expected, none of that impressed his uncle." and pick back up again at: "There was only a second to enjoy his uncle's enraged expression" and know that Mariam gave the jerk his dues. ;)
I wanted to write a Christmas fic, so I bit the bullet and wrote one. Unfortunately holidays were a little insane this year, so I'm only just getting around to posting it. I've also been wanting a way to introduce Mallory, though, so that's a bonus. I have a potential MaxMariam multi-chapter fic coming sometime in the future where she features, so hopefully you like her.
On that note, in 2022 I want to maintain a focus on writing, but also worry less about uploading. I'm proud of what I've accomplished in 2021, but I have a lot of ideas that I've been working on behind the scenes that are easier to make headway on when I'm not worrying about uploading monthly. I created a writing side blog on tumblr (URL is azikarue) where anyone who's interested can pop in and see what I'm up to. I'll try to maintain it regularly. :)
A big thank you to everyone who read or reviewed one of my fics this year! Thanks to RedWheeler for talking me into writing this and cheering me on all year long. Thanks to roktavor for letting me bother you with the dumbest questions.
ALSO, I share credit with RedWheeler (I'll give her most of it) for Bennett - Tyson and Hilary's son who is barely even mentioned.
Let me know what you thought and thanks again for reading!