You know the drill, work has been keeping me busy and I'd so much rather write all day. It's repetitive but so very true. On the plus side I decided to use my birthday the other day as an excuse to be lazy and write/edit, so here you go: a gift to you. The entire dinner was supposed to be in this chapter but the parts with Topanga and then with Shawn and Mr. Feeny lasted longer than I originally thought that the ending of the chapter just seemed like a more natural way to end it instead of dragging it to where it seemed awkward.

But to give you a preview for chapter 22: Conclusion of the dinner AND Angela and Eric finally have their state of our relationship/sex conversation.

As always, thanks for your feedback and endless patience. :-)

"Ooh, what are we doing," Topanga asked upon entering her dorm and finding Angela with what seemed to be her entire wardrobe spread out on her side of the room. "Then again, who cares? If it involves picking an outfit it must be fun."

"I need help."

"That much is clear. What's going on? Where's Eric taking you tonight?"

"To meet his parents," she mumbled. Eric had talked to her again about his mom's open dinner invitation and she tried to put it off, but then Amy personally called her to let her know she was welcome anytime. It was impossible to say no after that. The woman was too sincere.

"Um, Angela, you know Mr. and Mrs. Matthews. You've met them a bunch of times. Heck, you spent Christmas at their house, remember?"

"First of all," she began, pointing a finger at Topanga's face, "Christmas sucked. My dad was halfway around the world and me and Shawn...well, it just sucked. I don't want to think about Christmas anymore."

"Fine, but that doesn't change the fact that you've still met the Matthews."

"I've met Cory's parents. Tonight I'm meeting my boyfriend's parents."

"They're the same people."

"Maybe, but it's not the same situation. I've never had to meet parents before. What do I do? Tell me what to do!"

"Okay, first we're going to breathe," Topanga ordered. She wrapped an arm around her friend. "Deep breaths in and out. There you go," she soothed when Angela took deep breaths. "Feel better?"

"A little. Sorry. I just don't have experience with parents, mothers especially."

"You don't have to worry. Mr. and Mrs. Matthews are the most welcoming, understanding people in the world."

She thought about everything they had done for Shawn. They never hesitated to step in where his parents failed him. "I know."

"They're going to love you whether you're in their house as Cory's friend or Eric's girlfriend. You were welcomed for the holidays with open arms even after you and Shawn-"

"Topanga…"

"Sorry. The point is you have nothing to worry about. They are going to love you."

"Thanks." She took another deep breath. "Were you this nervous the first time you had dinner at their house?"

"The first time I had dinner at their house I was probably three."

"I meant as Cory's girlfriend."

"Again, probably three."

Angela thought back to what Eric said so many months ago, about how Cory and Topanga constantly rewrote the history of their romance and falling in love. "Right."

"To be honest the one you're really going to have to win over is Morgan. She's the critic of the family."

"I know even less about siblings than I do parents. You've got a sister. Help me out."

"Sister," Topanga scoffed. "Are you talking about Nebula Stop-the-War Lawrence or Sister Mary Hildegard of the Sisters of Mercy?"

"Um…either…both? How are she and the other nuns doing?"

"Oh, fine. She's not an official nun yet, still in training, but she's helping to run an orphanage in...crap. I don't remember where she is now."

"You sound a little bitter. I've never been a religious person and I couldn't commit myself to the lifestyle, but nuns generally do good, right?"

"I'm not bitter. I just miss having my sister be my sister. Now she's the world's sister." Topanga remembered one night about six years ago, she woke up to doors slamming and loud yelling. Her sister and parents were fighting again. But that night was different. When she went out to investigate she found Nebula in her room, crying and throwing her belongings into a suitcase. After a tearful hug and a promise to stay in touch, she was out the door. The events of that night were never mentioned again and her parents acted as though their eldest child never existed. Nebula seemed to take the happy, carefree, hippy spirit of the house with her when she left. Nothing was the same after that.

"Topanga, you okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine." She resumed looking through Angela's wardrobe. "This just reminded me that I need to send Nebbie a birthday card before next week. I know my parents won't. So...what were we talking about?"

"Morgan's a tough critic."

"Right. I haven't spent a lot of time with her lately, but if she's anything like she was when she was younger just talk to her and she'll be happy."

"Just talk to her? That's it?"

"She used to like it when I would do fun things with her hair, but she's probably over that now. She's not six anymore."

"Thanks, that helps a lot," Angela said sarcastically.

"Sorry. Okay, I say wear this peasant top with those jeans and…ooh these are cute. Wear these." She picked up a shoe from the floor. "I don't remember seeing these ankle boots before."

"I went to that new outlet mall with Breanne and her dorm mate the other day and couldn't pass these up. We should go sometime. The peasant top came from a thrift shop there."

More time spent with other friends. It was hard not to feel put out. "Yeah, sure. What are you doing with that," she asked when Angela took a small duffle bag out from under her bed.

"I, uh-"

"You're not coming back tonight," she concluded.

"No, I'm not."

"Have…fun? Is that the right thing to say?"

"Eric and I have plans all day tomorrow. It just makes more sense to spend the night." She would love to talk to Topanga, to confide in her how serious things with Eric were getting, but she couldn't. There was no guarantee that she wouldn't tell Cory. And once Cory knew everyone else would know, including Shawn. Those three had always been the worst version of the game Telephone. While she didn't care what anyone else thought about her relationship, it was her relationship. Whatever happened next was between her and Eric.

"Right." She couldn't help but laugh when she saw the pajamas Angela tossed in the bag. "Still trying to impress him, huh?"

"What?"

"Cute pajamas."

"Thanks. They were another score at the outlet mall."

"No, I mean you're bringing cute pajamas to sleep over at Eric's. That's kind of romantic."

"They're just pajamas. No different than the ones I regularly wear. Nothing about them says romance. The shorts have ice cream cones on them for crying out loud."

"And who has a bigger sweet tooth than your boyfriend?" She smiled. "When you think about it, it's almost more romantic than if you had gone out and bought lingerie."

Angela examined the contents of her bag. Everything was new. Everything was cute…or at the very least it matched. Hell, the pajamas were even blue. Eric's favorite color was blue. "God, you're right. How the hell did I miss this? Maybe I should just pack something else. I mean I don't care what anyone thinks about me or their opinions on my clothes."

"Eric's not just anyone to you. It's not a crime to want to look good for him. He does it for you."

"What do you mean?"

"He's not running with Jack at the crack of dawn for himself."

"He's running?"

"Jack does almost every day-I think he said he scheduled his classes around getting his work outs in- but Eric joins him a few times a week. They usually get back to the gym when I'm on the treadmill. After he lifts weights for a little while he rewards himself by attacking the heavy bag like a madman and pretends he's Rocky." Topanga was grateful for the entertainment most mornings. It was an excuse to laugh and a needed distraction from the dreaded treadmill, decorated with pictures of wedding dresses for inspiration. "His trash talk is pathetic, by the way."

She laughed. That sounded like Eric.

"Of course then he swings from the bag and yells like Tarzan, so…" She shook her head. "…anyway, you see? You're not the only one out to impress."

"Thanks. That kind of makes me feel better."

"Good."

Angela checked the time. "Oh, I have to finish getting ready if I'm going to catch the bus."

"You're not riding with Eric?"

"He's working at the store with Alan today so I'm meeting him at the house."

"Oh. Well, have fun. And like I said, you have nothing to worry about. Even if tonight was the first time you were meeting the Matthews they'd still love you."

"Thanks."

/

/

"No, not tonight."

"Come on, Shawnie, come to the movies. Jack's stepdad got passes to an early screening of some new Julia Roberts' romantic comedy…or drama…not sure. The previews didn't make it look funny. Is dramedy a word? If it's not I'm inventing in because it should be. Come see the romantic dramedy with us. I think Hugh Grant's in it, too. We can talk with fake British accents and annoy Topanga the rest of the night. Payback for dragging us to a chick movie."

"You're double dating with my brother? That's weird."

"Topanga and Rachel cooked it up. I think they wanted to smooth over last week's dinner party from hell. There's still two extra passes. So come with us."

"And have you guys blind date me with that last leftover pass? No, thanks."

"There's no blind date. Rachel invited a friend from her algebra class, but it's not a-"

"Not happening."

"But Shawn-"

"No. You're the one who's been on me to finish out freshman year before making any decisions about next year. You see this stack of books?" He gestured to the books in front of him. "I have to catch up on this if I want to pass."

Cory sighed. At least Shawn was doing homework instead of going to the photography studio again. "All right, but we're doing something tomorrow after class, okay?"

"Fine."

"Maybe we'll go to the arcade. It's been a while since I beat you in Street Fighter II."

"You mean it's been a while since I let you win."

He sat up a little straighter. "Is that so?"

"That is so."

"That sounds like a challenge, Hunter."

"Maybe it is."

"Arcade, two o'clock before all the annoying little kids get out of school. I'll get the tokens and you buy the vending machine candy. Best three out of five, loser buys dinner."

"Deal."

"Hi, honey," Topanga said, coming up from behind and kissing Cory's cheek. "What time are we meeting Jack and Rachel?"

"Twenty minutes. You're a little late."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I was helping Angela get ready. She and Eric are having dinner with your parents tonight. She's so nervous. It was kind of cute." She realized a few seconds too late she may have said too much in front of Shawn. "Sorry."

"That's okay. So…they've hit the 'have dinner with the parents' stage already?"

"What do you mean stage? Angela knows my parents. There's no milestone to hit with them."

Shawn shook his head. "No, trust me. It means something."

"Come to the movie with us," she offered.

"No, thanks. I'm up to my ass in homework."

"If you're sure…"

"I am."

"Okay. See you later," Topanga said, offering a small wave.

"Bye."

"Arcade tomorrow," Cory reminded him.

"Two o'clock. I got it."

Shawn was about twenty minutes into studying when he decided it was time for a coffee break. He wasn't paying attention, however, when he backed up his chair and bumped into someone. When he turned around to apologize he saw Mr. Feeny, bent over and holding his shin. "Sorry, Mr. Feeny. I didn't see you there."

"That's okay, Mr. Hunter. At least it seems you were lost in your school books instead of whatever else seems to have been holding your attention lately."

"Can I buy you coffee…or a bag of ice for the bruise?"

"Coffee will be fine, thank you."

"Here you go," Shawn said, returning a couple minutes later with two coffees. "Sorry again about your leg."

"It's nothing. So, those are a lot of books you have there. Cramming for finals?"

"More like playing catch up so I can take my finals and finish up the year."

"Ah, yes, a lot of students find the first year of college to be a challenge. The good news is that they are more prepared and have an easier time the following year."

"What about the ones who decide to cut their losses?"

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"What would you say to someone who is considering not coming back to college in the fall?"

"Ah, now I follow."

"This year has sucked. A lot of it has been my fault, but a lot of it wasn't, and I feel like I need something fresh…something different. I have my job at the photography studio. I'm making good money and I like it a lot. I'm good at something and don't feel like a failure."

"Shawn, you're not a failure. I don't want you to think of yourself as one. I know your father's death was a shock, especially since your relationship was never that great and-"

"It's not just my dad. I destroyed my relationship with Angela and shoved her away for good. Now she's with Eric and lucky me has had a front row seat to the whole damn thing." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "And school…let's face it, I've always been a crap student."

"When you apply yourself and focus on the work you can be good."

"I feel like I need to do something, like I need to hit some sort of reset button on my life. And whatever I do I don't want to be indebted to Jack's rich stepdad for it."

"And leaving college is that reset button?"

"It's all I can come up with. Let's face it, the only reason I'm here in the first place is because Cory nagged me. I wanted to work fulltime at the studio right after graduation."

"It sounds to me like your mind is already made up."

He rested his chin on the stack of textbooks and he tapped the pencil eraser against his temple. "Do you think I'm making a mistake?"

"Shawn, I am the first one who will tout the benefits of a college education. I think it's a good thing and can only open more doors for you. However…"

"There's a however," he asked, his eyes wide in shock. "Coming from you? You realize this is about me leaving college, right?"

"I gathered that, yes. I was going to say that you have had a rather tumultuous year and sometimes a break- or reset- is needed to reevaluate the state of your life. Do I want you to stay in college? Do I believe it can only help you? Yes, but if your heart isn't in it and this isn't where you want to be then perhaps it isn't where you should be right now. That doesn't mean you can't decide to come back later, but staying and going through the motions will be of no use to you."

"I can't believe you're saying this. I thought you'd be giving me a whole list of reasons to stay."

"That isn't my place. I'll help guide you to make the decision that is best for you if you ask for advice, but ultimately the choice is yours. You don't need my permission to leave nor do you need me to talk you into staying."

"Really?"

"Really." He offered a kind smile. "It's your life and I trust that you are capable enough to make this decision on your own. If you need to speak with me you know my door is always open, but I cannot tell you what to do, not anymore. It's time for you to take the reins and control your own destiny."

"Destiny? You're all about facts and logic. Since when do you talk about destiny, Mr. Feeny?"

"Are you ready, George?"

Shawn looked up and saw Dean Bolander standing behind his longtime teacher. "Big date tonight?"

"I wish," she lamented. "There is this dinner for area college deans. Honestly, it's the most boring evening. At least this year I have someone to complain to and to nudge me awake if I start to doze off during the speeches."

"Yes, but who's to save me if I fall asleep?"

"Oh, don't even think about it. If you fall asleep you are in so much trouble."

"Don't worry, Dean, I loaded him up full of coffee for you just now."

"Good. George, if I fall asleep tonight, it's on you."

He got up and followed her towards the door. "So much for personal responsibility. I should be the one allowed to fall asleep. You are dragging me to this boring affair after all."

"Payback for the opera last week."

"La Traviata is not boring! You just have no appreciation for…"

Shawn laughed quietly to himself as they continued to bicker on their way out the door. They already sounded like they'd been together for years instead of just a few weeks. Or had it been a month already? No, it's been longer than a month. He really needed to look at a calendar every once in a while instead of just doing what he needed to get through that particular day. He pulled out his biology book next. The entire time he studied he worried about how to break the news to Cory that he was closer than ever to his decision about school without his friend going ballistic.

/

/

Did she go in the front door or walk around to the back? Angela was halfway up the walk to the Matthews home when she realized she didn't know which door to go to. Sure, traditionally you go to the front door when you go to someone's home, but nearly every time she has come here she has been led in through the back door. Granted, those times she was with Eric or with Shawn, Cory, and Topanga. This was the first time she was here alone. Would she be asserting some familiarity that wasn't hers' to own? Still, the kitchen seemed to be the central area of the house, the heart of the home. Someone was always there. With that in mind she decided to take her chances and walked around to the back of the house.

Just as she suspected Amy was in the kitchen. She moved effortlessly from the counter to stove to check something below in the oven. A few seconds later she was at the table to look over what she could only assume was Morgan's homework. It was so domestic, so normal…such a typical family moment to have. She had vague memories that went back about ten years of being in a similar situation with her own mother. She pushed those to the back of her mind, however. No good came from thinking about that woman. It only led to heartache. Just as she was about to raise her hand to knock, Morgan spotted her standing outside and pointed to her mom. Seconds later the door opened and Angela found herself being pulled inside. "Hi. Sorry, I guess I'm a little early."

"Sweetie, no, you're right on time. In fact this dinner is long overdue."

She supposed that was her fault, given how she kept avoiding it when Eric would tell her about his mom's open invitation. The whole family thing- mothers especially- made her nervous. She couldn't help it. "Sorry about that."

Amy sensed the young woman's apprehension and squeezed her hand. "Stop apologizing. I'm just glad our schedules finally matched up."

"I brought you flowers," she said, holding up one of the bags in her hand.

"Why," Morgan asked from her spot at the table.

"Um…I thought it would be nice?" Did she mess this up, too? "You know, hostess gifts and all that. Never show up empty handed."

"Oh, these are lovely," Amy exclaimed, taking them out of the bag, "and they'll really brighten up the table. You didn't have to bring anything. Just you being here is enough, but I do appreciate these. Morgan, go get a vase out of the china cabinet."

The girl mumbled something on her way out of the room, causing Angela to ask, "Is she okay? Did I do something wrong?"

"You're fine. She's thirteen and today she's particularly good at being thirteen."

She nodded in sympathy. "Ah, I've been there. I definitely don't miss those days."

"Here, mom, the vase."

"Thanks, honey."

"Oh, Morgan, I figured you wouldn't care about flowers and I think I remember Eric telling me the peanut M&Ms were your favorite. I hope that was right."

"Definitely!" She snatched the candy out of Angela's hand. "Thank you."

"Save it for after dinner."

"It's a king sized bag, mom. That means some for now and some for later."

"Morgan…."

"A few for now?"

"Provided you share a few with your mother, sure."

"Deal," she relented. "So Angela, what's with the duffle bag? More hostess gifts?"

Was there a dignified way to tell someone you were spending the weekend with their brother and son? "No, it's uh-it's…"

"Morgan, it's almost time to eat. Go put your books upstairs. Dad and Eric will be here soon."

"But, mom-"

"Just go," she ordered, pointing to the stairs.

"Whatever."

"And if you could do it without sighing and rolling your eyes as if I'm asking you to move a pyramid that'd be great, thank you," Amy lectured after her daughter as she disappeared up the stairs. "Angela?"

"Yes?"

"You can put your bag by the coat rack. You don't have to hold it all night."

"Right. Thanks." She dropped the bag by the back door, grateful that she didn't have to come up with an excuse for why she had it. Though she suspected Amy had already come to her own conclusions. "Is there anything I can help with?"

"The pot roast is practically done. It just needs to sit for about twenty more minutes. I was just about to make a salad." Just then the baby began to cry from his bassinet in the living room. "Okay, plan B. Do you want to keep an eye on Josh or peel and chop vegetables?"

"Vegetables," she answered with no hesitation.

Amy nodded. "Cutting board is in the drainer, vegetable peeler is in the drawer to the left of the microwave, and the knife block is behind you. The veggies are already washed. I'm going to check his diaper and then I'll be back."

"Do you want them cut a certain way: sliced, diced, chopped, Julienne, Jardiniere, Paysanne?"

She wasn't even sure what those last few were. "So long as they're cut up and in the bowl it doesn't matter to me. Go crazy."

"Wow, fancy," Morgan remarked when she came back down the stairs a few minutes later. "Where did you learn to cut like that?"

"I lived with my grandmother in high school. She loves to cook. She was an executive chef when she was younger, but some days her arthritis is bad in her hands and it's hard for her to handle a knife. I did the cutting and chopping those days." Before she moved out Angela gifted her grandmother with one of those easy choppers you'd see commercials for on TV. She seemed to like it well enough. "She taught me all different ways to cut fruits and vegetables. One of her favorite sayings is 'Food is fifty percent presentation. If it looks like garbage, people will assume it tastes that way.'"

"It's the prettiest salad I've ever seen." She swiped a carrot from the counter. "I might actually eat it tonight instead of hiding it under potatoes."

"Thanks." The silence that followed was awkward. Angela had never been alone with Morgan and didn't know what to do. She remembered Topanga's advice: talk to her. "So are your teachers overloading you with homework as it gets closer to the end of the year, too? I know mine are."

"It's like they have a quota to meet," the teen scoffed.

"What homework were you working on before?"

"I have this stupid poetry assignment for English class."

"Poetry is not stupid. It's one of the oldest forms of expression. You can say so much within just a few lines. Anything can become the subject of a poem if you look at it the right way."

"Could you stop talking and gesturing when you're holding a knife?" She held her hands up and backed away from the counter in a mock surrender. "I promise I won't say anything bad about poetry anymore."

Angela chuckled and set the utensil aside. "Sorry, I get pretty passionate about the subject. I love it. I've been in poetry clubs since high school."

"And you're telling me you can really turn anything into a poem?"

"Anything."

"Even this salad?"

"Yes, even salad could become a poem."

"Prove it," Morgan said, sliding a legal pad across the counter.

She was about to start writing- a few ideas came to mind almost instantly- but she thought better of it and put the pen down. "Do your own homework."

"Darn it, I thought that was going to work. It worked once with Topanga. She got halfway through an essay of mine because I bet her that she couldn't stretch the topic into four pages. And you know her…"

She nodded. "Topanga has to prove she can do everything."

"For someone so smart she was dumb enough to take the bait. How did you know?"

"You're not the first Matthews to try and trick me into doing their homework. Don't get me wrong, Eric's negotiation tactics are a lot more fun, but-"

"Ew, gross! I don't need to hear your secret code words for making out with my brother."

"The point is I can help you after dinner if you want. I won't do the assignment for you, but maybe I can give you a hand."

"Really?"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

A few minutes later Amy was taking the pot roast out of the oven while Morgan set the table. All the while baby Josh sat happily in his swing, babbling at some toys that dangled above his head. Angela was putting the finishing touches on the salad and was again struck by the domesticity of it all. When her phone rang a moment later she was going to let it go to voicemail, not wanting to take herself out of the moment, but when she saw the caller id she felt compelled to answer. She apologized to Amy before inching towards the door. "Hi, Nan, how are you?"

"Dad, all I'm saying is you need to start paying me a commission," Eric said as he and Alan came in the back door. "I've brought in a lot of money this month because you shove all the annoying customers onto-"

"Shh," Amy whispered harshly. Angela hadn't quite made it out of the kitchen, instead stopping in the nook between the stairs and second entrance to the living room. Eavesdropping wasn't the intention, but she couldn't very well leave her dinner unattended. Let alone her infant.

"I know, I miss you, too, but I've just been really busy with school. It's like I said the last time you called, finals are almost here and I'm trying to prepare." Angela was quiet as she listened to her grandmother on the other end of the phone. She squeezed the bridge of her nose, already feeling a headache coming on. Seconds later she felt a supportive hand resting on the small of her back. How Eric knew she needed that right now she had no idea, but she was grateful for his ESP, no matter how temporary. She sighed and fought the urge to completely relax against him. "What," she startled, standing a little straighter, "no, Nan, I'm still here. Yes, I'm listening." She loved her grandmother, but as with most things in her life, their relationship was complicated. "Look…once I know what my schedule looks like for next week I will give you a call and we can get together, all right? Great. I love you, too. Bye."

"Your grandmother again," he concluded, his hand still on her back. "What did she say?"

"Same thing- she wants to see me. There's something we have to talk about."

"Did she give you any hints?"

"Nope."

"Why don't you just go and get it over with? Then at least you'll know what she wants to tell you. I can give you a ride whenever you want."

"I'll figure something out and maybe see her next week. I'm just-it's a busy time…prepping for finals."

"What's your excuse to not see her going to be when finals are over?"

"We're not discussing this right now. And frankly, it's none of your business anyway so butt out."

"But, Angela, I just want-"

"Dinner's ready," Amy interrupted. "Everyone go wash your hands. Upstairs. Now."

Morgan, Eric, and Alan- knowing better than to argue with his wife on this- made their way up the stairs. Angela was about to follow after them when she was pulled aside. "Mrs. Matthews, what-"

"First, call me Amy. Second, you helped me make dinner so you can use this sink."

"And third, you just came up with that lame excuse to get them out of the room," she guessed.

"Maybe. I'm not prying and you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but are you okay?"

"I'm sure I sound like a terrible person for putting off my grandmother, but our relationship is very complicated and no, I'd rather not get into it."

"No, you don't sound terrible. And if you don't want to talk about it I'll respect that, but if you ever change your mind I'm here." She wrapped what she thought would be a supportive arm around her son's girlfriend and was surprised when the young woman shied away from the gesture. It wasn't taken personally, however. Amy had long assumed that, much like Shawn, she was rife with parental drama and abandonment issues. "I'm a good listener. I can keep a secret better than anyone. And I'm always around."

"Thanks, Mrs…Amy. I'll keep that in mind."