Okay, so this chapter isn't exactly what I said it would be. I said this chapter would be the conclusion of dinner at the Matthews' and Angela/Eric's relationship/sex conversation. Turns out I was half right. It just seemed weird having both of those in one chapter and because I still seem incapable of NOT rambling on for freakin' ever or editing down, the dinner went on longer than planned. So Angela and Eric's conversation will be the next chapter, however, that chapter will be up within the next week.

And I wanted to let readers know that I may be changing the rating of this story from T to M. It's not that my writing is suddenly going to get a lot racier, but the line between the two ratings is so blurry and open to interpretation. And while there have been times I wasn't sure how to write some of the make out scenes to stay within the T rating, some of what they will be discussing in the next chapter likely falls under M. (It's going to be an honest, if uncomfortable at times, conversation.) That's the main reason I'm not posting chapters 22 and 23 together. I want to read through their talk one or two more times before I make the final decision on the rating.

As always, thank you for your patience and your feedback to the previous chapter. It is greatly appreciated. :-)

"…and you and Cory are going to help us over the summer get Josh into Morgan's room and finally set up your old room for Morgan." Due to the baby's premature birth, they never did get around to setting up a nursery for him. And they've been too exhausted since he arrived to do it.

"Yeah, because the entire pregnancy and the past three months haven't been nearly enough time," the girl remarked with a roll of her eyes.

"Morgan-"

"I know, mom, it's been busy and you and dad are tired." She added more of Angela's salad to her plate. "But I can decorate however I want, right? That was the deal."

"Dad and I have veto power. And no, you can't paint the walls black."

"Wow, I'm jealous," Angela said to Morgan. "I never had a chance to go crazy and decorate my room."

"Are you serious? What kind of mean parents do you have if they wouldn't let you decorate your room?"

"Weasel-"

"It's fine," she said, cutting Eric off. "My dad's in the army and we lived in military housing. If we painted we had to put it back the way it was before we moved again. And we moved around a lot. I got to paint my room a few times when I was little, but it was never the colors I really wanted because it had to be something easy to cover.

"When I was six I decided to surprise my parents and take care of my room myself." Her family had just relocated to South Carolina- their third move in two years- and her dad was occupied with work on the base and her mom was busy trying to unpack and calling around to find temporary work. Little Angela was left to entertain herself in her room. She could usually be trusted not to get into mischief. "I gathered up all of my markers and finger paints and decided to decorate the walls. It said washable so I thought it would come off the walls easily like it did my hands."

"Oh, you must've made such a mess," Amy exclaimed, remembering when her own kids would get into similar situations.

"When I went to show my parents I was so excited for them to see my masterpiece. They weren't as happy about it as I was." Her dad, while exasperated, didn't yell. Despite his image as the stereotypical, tough army man he rarely raised his voice to her. Instead he gently explained that she wasn't allowed to color on the walls and made her help him clean it up. Her mother…didn't say a word. She looked at the walls, then to her husband and daughter, before turning on her heel and leaving the house. Angela didn't see her again until breakfast. "My art supplies were locked up for a long time after that and I had to ask permission to use them."

"That sucks."

She shrugged. "It's okay. I was still able to put up pictures and posters. I figure one day when I get my own place I can go nuts with colors. Still, if you don't mind I might live vicariously through you when you're decorating your new room."

"I've got a bunch of magazines and catalogues in my room if you want to take a look."

"Sure, you can show me right after we work on your poetry assignment."

Morgan shrunk down in her chair. "Oh…you remembered, huh?"

"She never forgets about homework," Eric quipped. "She's a weirdo like that."

"The guy who now has a dance for each time he gets a higher grade on a test is calling me a weirdo?"

"Hey! You said you loved the dance."

"No, I said it was cute. And it is. I was just pointing out the-"

"Don't call me cute in front of my parents."

"But honey you are cute."

Eric made a face and covered his ears. "Ugh. You can't say that in front of my girlfriend. It's a million kinds of creepy."

"I can't help it. Just look at this face." Amy reached out and pinched his cheek. "Even when you were a baby people would always comment."

"Really?" Angela was getting a kick out of how embarrassed Eric seemed right now. This was definitely a side of him she hadn't seen before. It was, to use the word of the moment, cute.

"Oh, yes. He was born with a full head of hair and was just a very pretty baby. He was mistaken for a girl a lot his first year. Little old ladies would stop me all the time just to wave at him. And being the little ham that he is he loved all the attention- such a little flirt."

He buried his face in his hands. "Mooom…." It was one thing to brag about yourself, but to have your mom do it? And to your girlfriend? There were no words.

"Relax. It's not like I'm whipping out the photo albums. Unless…" She looked to Angela. "Do you want to see the photo albums?"

"Don't forget the video we have of him at about two, walking around with the seat from his potty chair on his head and said it was his crown. King Flush…isn't that what you wanted us to call you? No, it was Sir…that's it…Sir Flush."

His head hit the table. "Thanks, dad!"

She was tempted, very tempted, to see pictures but Eric had been tortured enough for one meal. "Maybe next time."

"Finally, some sanity! Thank you."

Morgan rested her chin in her hand. Weren't they just talking about her room? And her homework before that? How did the topic of conversation shift so quickly to Eric? Then again that tended to happen when her brothers were around. Eric, Cory, it didn't matter. They found a way to turn the conversation back to themselves. Josh was too young to do it on purpose, but he sure did cry at inconvenient times.

"…and I don't care what my date said, she was the one who rigged the game to steal all the tickets, remember Weasel? She collected Pez dispensers and wanted the Chuck E Cheese one for her collection."

"Is that true, Morgan?"

"Morgan, hello."

"Hey, Weasel, wake up," Eric said, shoving his sister.

"Ow! What did you do that for?"

"I was telling Angela about the time we got held by security in Chuck E. Cheese jail."

"Oh, yeah, because you broke the machine to steal the tickets. Shouldn't you be telling stories that make you look good?"

"I didn't…" He sighed. "You were there! You know it wasn't me. It wasn't me," he insisted.

"I'm going to finish my homework." Morgan got up from the table and made her way to the stairs. "Save me dessert."

"You still wanted my help, right," Angela asked.

"That's okay. I'm sure my stuff isn't as interesting as all the Eric stories."

"Please, I can hear stories of his mishaps anytime. It sounds like there are plenty of them."

"Hey, that's a little harsh."

She rubbed the top of his thigh under the table to show there was no malice behind her words. "Sorry. Did I say mishaps? I meant adventures."

"That's better."

"I promised Morgan I'd help her with a poem for her homework."

"Good thinking, Weasel. Angela knows poetry. She even likes the ones that don't rhyme."

"The best ones don't rhyme."

He shrugged. "If you say so."

/

"So?"

Angela read over what Morgan had written. "I like it. Good use of metaphors, similes, and the overall allegorical meaning behind it."

"Huh? Alle-who?"

"I understand what you're saying in your poem. I get what it's about." It was a little dark, but she remembered being thirteen. That was the time you started to experiment and test the boundaries of dark and cryptic, especially in artistic endeavors. "Do you really feel like this; lost and forgotten, or is it just for the poem?"

She closed her notebook and shoved it into her backpack. "I don't know. It depends on the day."

"And what is it today?"

"Today you said a poem can be about anything and some of the examples in my book were pretty depressing so that was the first thing that came into my head."

"Okay. You know if there's a day when you feel that way not just for the poem…I don't know…you can...if you want to, I mean…you can talk to me. I know what it's like to feel lost and forgotten about."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I'll think about it. I still don't know you that well and I don't spill my guts to just anybody."

Angela nodded. That was something else they had in common. "That's fine. No pressure. Just if you want to talk…so where were those catalogues you were telling me about for your room?"

"On my dresser. I marked the pages with stuff I like."

"You like turquoise?" It seemed to be a common theme in her top favorites.

"A lot of colors go with it. Which bedding set do you like?"

"My favorite doesn't matter. Which one do you like the best?"

"I'm stuck between two favorites. I need another opinion."

"Well, without knowing which two are in the running, I'd have to go with the turquoise with the purple and hot pink accents."

"It's fuchsia."

"Sorry, fuchsia."

"That's one of my favorites."

"I can see why." She thumbed through the next few pages of the catalogue. "I'm so jealous. I dreamed of doing this when I was a kid. You have a blank slate to work with."

"You want to see what's going to be my room? I already know where I want the furniture."

"Sure."

/

"…Eric and Cory had their beds along this wall but I thought with the built-in shelves it would be better to put my desk here," Morgan explained. When Cory moved out for college her parents gave her his full sized bed and moved the twin beds back into this room. "My bed could go over there." She pointed to the far wall.

"That's smart. And it would keep the room nice and open. It sounds like you have it all planned out."

"This was supposed to be done before Josh was born so I've had time to plan."

"Hey, Weasel, telephone," Eric said, appearing in the doorway.

"Who is it?"

"Courtney, Stephanie, Brittany…something like that."

"You just named three of my friends. Which one of them is it and what do they want?" She assumed, like most nights, a friend had forgotten something for homework.

"She wants you pick up the phone! I don't know. I'm not your messenger."

"I'm so lucky to have you for a big brother," she deadpanned.

"Thanks, I think so, too."

"Maybe next I'll tell Angela about all the times you used me to help you get dates."

"What?"

"Hi, I'm Morgan and this is my brother Eric," she began, reciting the lines burned into her brain. "He's very shy. My brother thinks you're so cute."

"Go answer the damn phone." Once his sister was gone he took the opportunity to observe Angela as she looked around the room. She examined pictures left on the walls, books left on the desk, and glanced out the window to inspect the treehouse. "You're making a fantasy come true right now, you know?"

"Oh?"

"Do you know how many times I dreamed of having a girl in my room?"

"It's Morgan's room."

"Not yet." He reached for her hand and pulled her close, wasting no time before he crushed his mouth against hers'. Eric had been waiting all evening to kiss her. "Where the hell were you when I was fifteen," he muttered between kisses.

"When you were fifteen? I was…uh…" She didn't know how he expected her to think now, with his lips on her and his hands wandering under her top. The only thing that kept her from completely losing herself in him was the knowledge that his parents and sister were just downstairs. "I was tw-twelve and…and in seventh grade."

His hands fell from under her shirt to rest on her hips and he held her at arm's length. "Don't say stuff like that."

"What?" The sudden loss of contact was a shock. "What are you talking about?"

"It sounds wrong when you put it that way."

"Put what what way?"

"That you were twelve when I was fifteen. You were in seventh grade and I was a freshman, maybe even a sophomore! It sounds dirty. And not the good kind of dirty, the call the police kind."

Angela was confused as to how they went from making out a few seconds ago to this. "If it makes you feel better I was probably more like twelve and a half."

"Not even a little."

"I don't know what you want. I'm the same age as Cory, a few months younger actually. So however old he was when you shared this room is how old I was."

He took a few steps back and covered his ears. "Ugh, quit talking. You're just making it worse."

"What do you want me to do? I'm stating facts."

"Can you state facts that don't compare you to my brother?"

"I could point out that Morgan's in seventh grade right now but I don't think that would help," she teased.

"Do you want me to fling myself out the window? Because I will, aim for Feeny's little picket fence to break my fall and everything."

"There definitely wouldn't be a need for a sex talk tonight if you did that, depending on your aim at least."

"Thanks for your concern."

"Oh, stop it, you big baby."

"First you torture me and then you call me names? Nice."

"Can I make it up to you?"

"You can try. It won't be easy though."

She turned away from him and looked at the other side of the room. "Which bed was yours'?"

"Huh?"

"Which one was yours'?"

"We switched them around a few times, but usually that one," he said, pointing to the one closest to the door. His heart beat a little faster when she took a seat. A girl on his bed in this room was another fantasy fulfilled. Now she just needed to agree to make out with him in that bed to top it off. "God, you look hot sitting there."

She smiled at him in return. "So how much longer do you figure we have to stick around? Not that I'm not having fun, but this is the first time we've been alone in days."

"Mom's getting dessert out now. Trust me. We don't want to miss that. She baked peanut butter brownies."

"Wow…yum."

"You're welcome."

"For what? She's the one who cooked."

"Yeah, but when she asked me what your favorite dessert was I wasn't sure but said you loved peanut butter cups. So she made peanut butter brownies."

"Thanks for the assist, but I think I'll give your mom most of the credit."

"I can live with that. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How did you sneak the duffle bag in?"

"I didn't sneak it."

"Then what did you say when mom asked why you have it?"

"Oh, you mean I wasn't supposed to tell her I'm spending the night with you so we can have the big sex talk and then I get to have all kinds of dirty, bad, naked fun with her son?" She nearly laughed when his eyes bugged out. "No?"

"You did not say that to my mommy!"

Angela hooked a finger through a belt loop on his jeans and pulled him closer. "You don't think she'd appreciate knowing that that we're talking it over first?" She wrapped her arms around his waist and peered up at him with a teasing smile, resting her chin against his abdomen. "It's a testament to good parenting that you're being so responsible."

"I don't think she'd see it like that. To her I'm still five, watch cartoons, eat Cocoa Puffs, and wear Velcro shoes."

"But you still eat Cocoa Puffs and I saw you watching cartoons last week. In fact, you ate the Cocoa Puffs while you watched Bugs Bunny."

"Yeah, but I've been tying my shoes for years."

"Mom wants to know if you guys want- oh jeez!" Morgan stopped in the doorway. "You really have to do that in my room?"

They quickly separated. "One, it's not your room yet. And b, we're just talking, Weasel."

"In that position you weren't going to be 'just talking' for long."

"What do you want?"

"Mom wants to know if you want ice cream with your brownies."

"Um…duh. That's always a yes."

"Angela?"

"No, thank you."

She stared at them for a few seconds. "If you're not downstairs in two minutes I'm coming back up here. I'll even bring some of Josh's dirty diapers to stink you out."

"Get out of here."

"Two minutes."

"We should get down there," Angela said.

"But didn't you hear her? We've got two whole minutes." He sat beside her before he gently pushed her back against the mattress. "Come on, let's use that time to make one more of my fantasies come true."

/

"Are you sure you don't want any more potatoes?"

"No, Mrs. Matth-Amy, I mean. Thank you, though. I have enough leftovers to last the whole weekend."

"At least take some more brownies."

Angela watched, silent as Amy quickly unzipped her bag just enough to shove a baggie of brownies inside.

"There you go, your own stash Eric won't find. I love my son, but he has the biggest sweet tooth I've ever seen."

"Thank you." Did that mean Amy assumed she and Eric would be sharing the rest of the leftovers? "And thank you for having me over tonight. It had been too long since I'd had a home cooked meal."

"I'm just happy we finally got to do this. Don't be a stranger now. You're welcome anytime. Even if it's a night Eric is working, if you want dinner- come on over! There's always enough food. I haven't adjusted to cooking for just a few people yet."

While it was an enjoyable evening, she'd had just about all of the family interaction she could handle for one night. Dealing with it without Eric as the go between? "I'll see what my class schedule looks like and let you know. This is the time of year for pulling all-nighters studying for finals."

"Just bring leftovers if you do come to dinner without me," Eric quipped, coming back into the room. "Are you ready?" She nodded. "Mom, feel free to break into my apartment and cook anytime."

"Or you could come over more often, too, you know?"

"I could, but that would make these visits much less special."

"Watch it or the next time Angela comes over all the pictures are coming out."

"All of them?" That could be dangerous.

"All of them, from newborn to present day- most embarrassing ones included."

He threw his arms around his mother. "I love you, mommy! I'll visit you every day!"

She laughed and shook her head. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Dad, you want me at the store Saturday at three, right," Eric asked his father, who had just come back downstairs after putting Josh in his crib.

"Yep, three's good."

"Remember what I said- commission! I sell more than anyone else."

"We'll see."

"Good night, you two. Be safe."

"Good night, Amy, Mr. Matthews. Thank you again for the invitation."

"It was our pleasure. Remember, don't be a stranger…either of you." She stood in the doorway, watching until they were in the car. "I think that went well," she said to her husband as she closed and locked the door.

"You thought it might go bad?"

"We don't know Angela that well so I wasn't sure. But tonight was a good start. I've got a feeling about them."

He sighed. "Not mother's intuition again."

"I'm usually right about these things. I think this relationship is sticking, at least for the foreseeable future."

Alan nodded. He was skeptical at first, unsure of Eric's ability to maintain a relationship, two jobs, and his classes. Not to mention the couple's withstanding the tension among their group of friends, but it seemed they brought out the best in each other. At the very least she brought out the best in Eric. He didn't know Angela well enough to properly see if his son reciprocated, but it seemed he did.

/

"I'm glad your mom tricked you into giving her my cell phone number so she could talk me into dinner," Angela said as she put her bag into the backseat. "I had fun and I got to eat real food again."

"Sorry you got stuck with the Weasel for a while."

"I wasn't stuck with her. I offered to help her. Why do you call her 'Weasel' anyway? It's not very nice."

"I mean it with love. It's just when she was little she used to find her way into things that were none of her business. She'd just weasel her way in- so, Weasel. I've called her that since she was three or four." They got into the car and buckled their seatbelts. "You have no idea how many times I had to drag her along when I wanted to go to the mall or when I'd take a date to the carnival."

"It sounds like you used her to get those dates so it's only fair that she got rewarded."

"She got rewarded! I bought her candy, won her stuffed animals, and she would steal my stuff constantly. Somewhere she has a nice collection of sunglasses and flannel shirts that used to be mine."

"Well, if you want to do that every once in a while now I won't complain. She can go to a movie with us sometime or when they set up the carnival in the park we can take her."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Or I'll be fine some days if you hang out just the two of you."

"Did she say something?"

"No, I just get the feeling that she misses her big brothers. Maybe you should talk to Cory about that."

He groaned. "Him?" He hadn't had a real conversation with Cory since the dinner party.

"Yes…him."

"Fine, if I have to."

"You do."

"What the hell did you guys talk about up there?"

She shrugged. It wasn't so much that they talked. It was more what she read that gave insight into Morgan's thoughts. "Stuff."

That was too vague for him, but Eric got the feeling he wasn't getting a better answer out of her. "Did you catch what my mom said when we were walking out?"

"Good night?"

"No, she said 'be safe.'"

"So?"

"Normally she tells me to drive safe. Why would she change it? Are you sure you didn't say anything about what we're going to talk about this weekend?"

"It was my conversation starter," she said sarcastically. "I find that talking about sex is the perfect ice breaker for dealing with my boyfriend's parents."

"Fine, stupid question."

"No such thing, but do you really think she was trying to throw out a subtle safe sex message?"

He laughed quietly to himself and started the car. "I'm not sure. To be honest it's a little weird to think about so I'm not going to think about it anymore."

"Sounds like a good plan to me."

Eric was just about to drive off when he saw Mr. Feeny pull into his driveway and get out of his car. "Hey, it's Feeny. We should say hi." He rolled down the window but before he could call out to his mentor Dean Bolander emerged from the passenger side, causing his jaw to drop. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing," he whispered to Angela.

She watched Mr. Feeny and the dean walk hand in hand towards the house with a smile on her face. "They look happy."

"They do, don't they?"

"Yeah." Seconds later the serenity was broken when Eric leaned on the horn. "What are you doing?!"

"Woohoo," he shouted, hanging his head out the window. "Go, Feeny!"