Chapter One

Three years.

Three long years.

Patience had never been Mona Robinson's strong suit, and living with these two had drained her of what little she had. Today marked the Bower-Micelli clan's third Christmas together as a family. Tony and Angela had spent the first dancing around the Christmas tree, and the second kissing under the mistletoe. If they were trying to hide their feelings for one another, they were doing a supremely awful job. At present, they were sipping spiced cider in a fire-lit living room, Angela's head resting drowsily on Tony's shoulder, a wall-to-wall smile of contentment on his face as they watched George Bailey run madly through the dystopian streets of Pottersville. Jonathan had gone up to his room midway through the movie to break in his new chemistry set, and if the faint smell of sulfur wafting down the stars was any indication, he was brewing up the stink bombs he had expressly been forbidden from creating, while the adults were lost in their little love cocoon.

Sam, having risen early to attack the bounty of presents under the tree, was half-asleep in the recliner opposite Mona. Catching the girl's gaze took a minute, but Mona managed it, tilting her head meaningfully at the pair snuggled on the couch. Samantha grinned, then raised her eyebrows expectantly. You have a plan, I assume? Mona winked. Don't I always, kid? She nodded at the door, and Sam took the cue, rising from her seat and stretching theatrically. "I'm bored. I think I'm gonna head over to Bonnie's and show her the new jacket and boots Santa brought me."

Tony and Angela seemed to have noticed for the first time how closely they were sitting, and sprang apart like a pair of guilty teenagers. "Don't you want to finish the movie first, Sam?"

"Dad, I know how it ends, and even if I didn't, I could figure it out. There's no way you'd let me watch it if he really did end up jumping off that bridge."

Angela chuckled. "You have to admit, she's got you there."

"I want to see that movie. Between this mess, Charlie Brown, and the Whos down in Whoville, I've had enough corny schmalz today to last me the rest of the year," Mona groused good-naturedly.

"Everyone's ganging up on me!" Tony complained half-seriously. "Fine, go ahead, just don't forget to wear your coat, sweetheart."

"And be back in time for dinner," Angela added. "You don't want to miss your dad's pumpkin pie, do you?"

"Yeah, we both know it's not going to last five minutes once this one gets ahold of it," Mona jerked a thumb at her daughter.

Angela huffed. Tony laughed for a second, then cursed loudly. "Aw, marone a mi, the pie! I forgot to take it out of the oven." Groaning, he bolted for the kitchen.

Samantha slipped out before any further stipulations could be placed on her, leaving Mona and Angela alone. Excellent. Phase One is underway. "You really have to stop being so distracting, Angela," she scolded with a smirk.

Angela rolled her eyes. "Mother, we were half-asleep."

"You were faking it." Angela's lids had been drooping, but the eyes below had been flitting around restlessly. Her daughter had been fond of the same trick as a baby, whenever she had wanted to be held a few minutes longer. Back then, it had been cute, but now, it was just aggravating. "And Tony was wide awake, looking at your head on his shoulder and grinning like he'd scored. It was pathetic. You know, if you're not going to throw him a bone and soon, we really need to find him someone who will."

"Mother!" Angela flung a pillow at her, cheeks flaming. "He doesn't need my help, and I don't need yours."

"That's debatable, but since you brought it up—"

Angela blinked. "Since I brought it—?"

Mona didn't miss a beat. "—I actually have another gift for you." She withdrew a festive red and gold envelope from her pocket and tucked it into her daughter's hand. "Merry Christmas, dear."

Angela regarded the envelope like a poisonous snake that had been dumped in her lap. "Oh, God, not another magazine subscription?"

"No, nothing like that. You made your feelings clear. To me and everyone else in a five-mile radius."

"What did you expect? I can never unsee those things!" The younger woman shuddered, opening the envelope to distract herself from the memories. What lay within was only slightly less offensive. "A yearly membership for 'Love at First Sight Video Dating'? Mother, are you crazy? These services are for people who are desperate, or antisocial, or…or desperately antisocial!"

Well, if the shoe fits…nah, too easy. Stay the course, Mona. "Do you really think so? Or is there something else going on here?"

"Like what?" retorted Angela.

"Like maybe you don't need to shop around, because you've already got your eye on someone," said Mona archly, unsubtly nodding in the direction of the kitchen. Right on cue, there was a crash of cookware, followed by a low male cry of dismay.

"Don't be ridiculous! I've told you, there's nothing between Tony and me." Angela's head flopped back against the rumpled couch cushions in exasperation. "I've told you, I've told Jonathan, I've told my friends. Loudly, and repeatedly. Hell, I got up in front of the neighborhood and made a public speech! What more do I have to do to convince you people? Join a convent?"

You wouldn't last five minutes, kid. I'm surprised you've held out this long, quite frankly. "Well, then, if you really mean that, then it's worse than I thought."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Angela, not bothering to raise her head. Having spent the night wrapping gifts and then having been awakened early by the kids, she was quickly losing the strength to participate in this gift-exchange-turned-interrogation any longer.

"You're worried you won't get any responses, aren't you?"

"What?" Angela finally raised her head, if only to give her mother a dirty look. "Why would I be worried about that?"

"Well, it's the only explanation. I mean, you have no reason not to do it. You're getting the membership for free, and if it's not another man holding you back—"

"It's not!"

"Then it must be your old fear of rejection rearing its ugly head."

"I do not have a fear of rejection."

"Of course you do, dear. Don't you remember your eighth birthday party, the one nobody came to? Ever since then, you've had a pathological—"

"That's enough!" Angela hopped to her feet indignantly, the gift certificate fluttering to the ground.

"I'm sorry, dear. I should have realized this gift would just upset you." She picked up the gift certificate, feigning contrition, and patted her daughter gently on the back. "Here, we'll just pretend this whole thing never hap—"

"Oh no you don't!" Angela snatched the certificate back. "I'll show you who's afraid. First thing tomorrow, I'm going down to this agency, and I'm coming home with ten dates!"

"My, my, that will certainly show me," chuckled Mona, watching as she stormed up the stairs. Phase One complete, commencing Phase Two. She made a beeline for the kitchen. "Hey, Tony, you got a minute?"

Her future son-in-law was carefully peeling a layer of slightly charred crust from the top of the neglected pumpkin pie. "Sure, sure, just as soon as I finish transforming this two-crust pie back into a one-crust. Ow!" With an unmanly shriek, he tossed the steaming slab of dough into the trash. Dusting a few crumbs off the filling underneath, he breathed a slight sigh of relief. "Good as new. Just need to spray some whipped cream on top, and we'll be all set."

Mona shook her head sadly. "This is tragic."

"Ay-oh, it's not that bad!" Tony scoffed, placing the dessert on a cooling rack.

She swatted him on the shoulder. "Not the pie, you! A gorgeous man with a ready supply of whipped cream, spending the happiest day of the year alone!"

"I'm not alone." His eyebrows knitted in confusion. "I've got you, and Sam, and Jonathan…"

"And Angela."

"Yeah." His eyes went out of focus and a hint of a smile played around the corners of his mouth.

Yes, this man needed help. If he were any more besotted, he'd be giggling like a schoolgirl while plucking petals off a daisy. She took a can of Reddi-Whip out of the fridge and tossed it at him. "She's in her bedroom, now's your chance, Casanova."

"Mona!" he balked, dropping the can like a hot potato.

Well, it had been worth a shot. "Just kidding."

"Yeah, right." He hunkered down in front of the oven and pretended to be engrossed in checking on the turkey.

"It's still a turkey and it's still dead, come on, get up." She tugged at his arm, urging him back onto his feet. "I've got another present for you." She reached into her pocket and brought out another embossed envelope.

Tony smiled. "Aw, Mona, a new Ferrari? You shouldn't have."

"Nope, something even better!"

"This I've gotta see." He tore into the envelope, rolling his eyes when he saw what was inside. "Please tell me this is another joke? A video dating service?"

"You're welcome." Mona pretended not to notice the look of horror in his eyes.

Tony sat the gift certificate aside, and worked his mouth awkwardly. It was as if he knew he was supposed to be thanking her, but he couldn't quite squeeze the socially-mandated words out of his throat. "Mona," he finally managed to choke, "I know you meant well, and I appreciate the thought, but I don't think this is for me. This sort of thing is more for people who are desperate, or antisocial. Or desperately antisocial."

"Wow, you two really are a match made in Heaven," she muttered under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing, just clearing my throat," she lied. "Come on, Tony, be practical! How else are you going to meet women?"

"In a bar, blitzed out of my mind, like a normal person," he fired back at her, taking a tray of rolls out of the refrigerator and placing them in the oven next to the turkey.

"Oh, come off it, Gramps. You haven't been to a bar in ages. You spend all your nights on the couch with Angela. eating popcorn and watching Little House on the Prairie."

"Ay-oh, oh-ay, I'll have you know the Old West was a very wild place!" Tony protested lamely. "Ma and Pa Ingalls could party with the best of 'em!" Slamming the oven door shut, he held out his hand in defeat. "All right, give me the damn envelope."

"That's the spirit!" She mussed his hair as if he was the sulky little boy he was behaving like. "Don't worry, you're in good hands. My friend Ramon runs the place. Just tell him I sent you, and he'll see that you get the cream of the crop."

"Yeah?" Tony brightened. "Maybe this won't be so bad."

"You don't know the half of it, buddy." Phase Two complete!

A/N: It's my first story in this fandom, please be gentle!