Author's Note: I know it's been a billion years since I've paid any attention to this story, and this couple. But I had this image in my head and so here you go. I hope you guys like it! As always, I'll be waiting patiently (or not so) for your thoughts!

And while I have your attention, I just binged Gossip Girl (hence Nichorello neglect) and fell deeply in love with Serena and Dan (or, Derena, I guess they're called). So, I'm going to post what I've written for them on my account, in a separate story altogether, obviously, so if you like Gossip Girl as much as I now do, and Serena and Dan (seriously on both counts, I am obsessed), please do give them a read and drop a review or two!

Back to your regularly scheduled Nichorello programming. This one is called A Family of Sinners

Nicky just stared at her wonderful, precious, little bundles of joy – this, she might add, was a direct quote from Lorna's sugary little mouth - in both awe and disgust. What in the hell were her children wearing!? Ugh. The outfits were fucking abominations – hang on, that wasn't right because these were actually an insult to what would otherwise be referred to as an actual abomination.

"Lorn, come on. Why are you making our corrupted little demons wear these, hm?"

She ruffled Chessie's curls, thick as can be, and the child bowed her head in response, embarrassed. She was still a quite bit shy that one. Made her all the more endearing. She took her other hand and ran her palm across their son' s cheek, which was oddly pale for a boy who's both parts Italian, and wherever the douche baby was from – honestly, if Nicky could care even less than she already did about anything to do with the man, she would.

"It's too late for them. They're already sinners."

Carmine smirked and she could see him trying to hide a chuckle behind his hand. This kid practically lived for getting under his momma's skin these days, at thirteen, and she really couldn't blame him. It was just too easy. You call her children of the Lord sinners and you've got her head spinning 'round like the Tasmanian Devil on acid. Honestly, stupid simple.

"My babies are not so. How dare you say that to my face, Nicky? What makes you say that? You don't think I'm a good mother? You don't trust me to raise my children in the name of the Lord and the Holy Spirit, like my momma did?"

Nicky stayed silent. Kept a straight, passive, face. Years of getting berated by Red and belittled by those little Satan's spawns from C Block were now paying off in a culmination which was this very moment. If it wasn't going to defeat the whole purpose here, she would have smiled.

It took less than a minute for Lorna to break and strike near insanity. Silence was a weapon chose wisely where Lorna Morello was concerned. It was a fucking powerhouse.

"Oh my gosh, you don't trust me, you don't, you don't, you don't!"

Now, Nicky smiled. She actually full-on grinned. Felt that the situation suited it. Now you gotta admit, it is all quite hilarious. Especially those little Mary Poppins get ups those kids were wearing.

If they were in Hebrew school, like she had been a million light years ago, some little bastard would've popped 'em in the kneecaps. And she wasn't going to promise that little bastard wouldn't have been her. Take the fact that these kids were hers out of the equation, and that she was thirty-six years old, which made her a fucking adult, and they'd be fair play.

"Their parents are ex-cons what'd you think was gonna happen, babe?"

Lorna shook her head repeatedly, as if she were willing the thought away. Banishing the truth of that statement from ever existing.

"No, no, no. My children are perfect little angels sent from Heaven to be with us."

Nicky couldn't help it. She rolled her eyes. Sometimes, the woman could be a little melodramatic. And that, unfortunately, was putting it lightly.

"And so that means we automatically have to celebrate this Easter bullshit? What are we implying here, that this God you believe in, is a vampire?"

Again, Lorna shook her head vehemently. So did their children. Oh no. Lorna had them trained well. Like little fucking golden retrievers.

"No, Mommy," Chessie piped up, with a sweet, angelic little smile. See, angelic, she could play along.

"God came back from the dead. He was dead for three days but then, he resurrected. That means he came back to life. So, on Easter, we celebrate that He has risen."

Francesca looked sickeningly proud of herself. "Wanna know where I learned that?"

And Nicky couldn't hold it back, either. Damn. Those were some pretty big words for an eight-year-old. "Where, baby?"

Their little girl crossed her arms over her flowery, little chest and grinned, quite believing that she was well-deserving of praise. "Sunday School."

Nicky scoffed. Shook her head. Then, she checked her watch. She gave Lorna a look of subtle surrender. She won. The kid always won when it came to her. Always would.

"Come on, family. We're going to be late for church if we don't get a move on."

Nicky's soul purpose in this life on the outside was to keep her family afloat. Keep her babies happy. All three of them, and some, she thought with a seductive roll of the tongue, more than others.

She looked over at her wife who was helping their daughter shrug into her ivory cardigan, lifting up her hair into a makeshift ponytail so that none of that beautiful strawberry blonde gets caught in the sequins. Lorna was such a fucking fantastic mother.

She couldn't say the same for herself, and especially not without sounding like a pompous dick, but Lorna reminded her of what she had always thought was a crazy alternate reality, that she was a great mother, too, a kind, nurturing one, who showed the fuck up, every day.

Nicky grabbed Carmine's hand and felt him squeeze hers back. "You ready for Church, bub?"

He looked up at her, the picture of innocence. The irony there, reverting back to the two ex-cons argument, palpable. "Do we get to go for brunch after? And can I get pancakes instead of eggs?"

She smiled. "Yes, and yes."

Carmine smiled back. "Then yes."

"I call shotgun!" Chessie yelled from in front, her hair blowing wildly out behind her.

Lorna was going to shit. But honestly, it was her fault for not using the special stay-and-hold stuff from that beauty store she'd spent a million bucks on. Jesus Christ, she thought with an invisible shudder. What was happening to the butch in her? If Big Boo could see her now, would she ever be ashamed. Or amused. Or both. Definetly both. She grinned. She really missed those Litchfield bitches.

"Hey now, Baby Houseman," Nicky put a stalling hand on her shoulder. And Chessie pouted in response.

"You know the rules. No person under the age of thirteen gets to sit in the front seat."

Carmine perked up from beside her. "Wait, can I sit in the front, then?"

Just as Lorna was about to speak, likely to prattle on about the number of deaths of young children caused by faulty airbags, or something, Nicky beat her to it.

"You know that spot is reserved for your Momma. Don't play dumb, both of you."

As both children sulked for a bit in the backseat, Nicky drove the speed limit and without use of the horn to please her wife.

She gave her a small smile when Lorna reached over the console to hold her hand on her thigh. This picture right here was so consensual and conservatively lesbian that Boo would have a fit if she were here.

At the stoplight, Nicky leaned over and chastely kissed her.

"Happy Easter, Nicks," Lorna mumbled against her mouth, and when Nicky separated from her, she left her lips in her hair.

"Happy Easter, love."

Author's Note: So? *she says hopefully*