Five Mother's Day Fics
I usually find it kind of lame when people do seasonally appropriate fanfic. Okay I mostly just find it kind of lame when I do it. And this is kind of lame but, oh, well.
General Note: Not all of them are supposed to take place exactly on Mother's Day.
Title: People
Character: Guess ;)
Word Count: 329
Rating: PG
Summary:
Blackpool, 1968
Small hands gripping at cool glass, forehead furrowed in concentration, as a soft voice directs him to be careful.
“Bit early for the two of you.”
He turns, reaching to set the glass bottle on the counter before his sister pulls it from his grasp and does it for him. He frowns, but knows she won’t notice.
“Wanted to see you off this mornin’,” he hears her say, quickly, and their mother smiles. “And he…” she nudges him forward, even as frowns up at her again and tries to stay where he is automatically. “Wanted to give you somethin’.”
“What is it, dove?” his mum coos. Drops to one knee to be able to meet his eyes, but he looks away. Reaches into his pocket, removing the much folded and smudged sheet that he doesn’t let her take until he’s unfolded it himself and glanced over it again.
And it had seemed beautiful before, smooth lines and plumy chest just right, grey feathers and bright eyes, but now it’s just a bunch of smudges and scrawls and lines from where it was folded, and he thrusts it towards her, eyes dropping to stare at his newly shined shoes.
“You drew this, pet?” a quick nod and shuffle in place, but he doesn’t look. “It’s lovely. He have a name?”
“Henry,“ mumbled as he glances up, blue eyes darting to meet hers and then away.
“Well, of course,” she says, smoothing it out over her knee. “Looks just like a Henry, doesn’t he?”
“Just like,” his sister chimes, and the little boy hides a grin.
“Give us a kiss, love,” and he darts up to oblige, taking in the scent of soap and scorched hair. “Be back ‘round midday, we’ll go up and see the ducks, all right?”
He gives another nod as she gives him a peck on the cheek, and straightens. Her dark skirt swirling around her as she goes, and he goes back to pouring his milk.
Title: Plateau
Characters: Angela and Peter Petrelli
Word Count: 564
Rating: PG
Summary:
New York City, 1986
She hears the soft pad of bare feet on wood floors, and shuts her eyes.
The door creaks open, carefully, and the rattle of silverware against china barely on this side of concerning, and she manages to keep pretending to sleep.
Until she hears Peter clear his throat, very quietly, and mumble out a quick, “Mom?”
“Oh, Peter…” she feigns a yawn and sits up. “What time is…” she finally gets a good look at the tray he’s carrying, and pauses. “Did you make all of that yourself?”
Peter gives her an almost smug, definitely satisfied grin, and nods.
“Well, come sit, sit,” she says, smoothing down the comforter and patting the space beside her.
Peter takes small, calculated steps and sets the tray down first, managing to spill only a bit of the coffee into its saucer and none of the orange juice. The small flower vase with a single rose wobbles just barely and then rights itself.
“This smells wonderful, Peter,” she doesn’t even have to pretend to be sincere, as she lifts the cover off the plate. “Is this…”
“A Spanish omelet,” Peter rushes out. “And those are strawberries romani- roma-“
“Romanov,” she corrects, automatically, and sees Peter’s face cloud. Takes a fast bit of the omelet, which is, “Delicious.”
And Peter brightens again, automatically. She smiles around another bite.
“You really made this all by yourself, dear?”
“Uh-huh,” Peter nods again. “Anita taught me last week.”
And thinking back on it, she must have seen part of the lesson. Peter giggling about something from atop a stool, doing a very bad job of seeming innocent when she walked into the kitchen and then bursting into another set of giggles when she walked out. She should’ve noticed something, then, but…
But it had been a long week, that week. Nathan had called on Monday to inform the family that he was going to spend the next couple of weeks in Mexico, and Arthur had been about set to go down to Annapolis to inform him that that would not be the case.
“Nathan’s gonna call you this afternoon,” Peter says, brightly, and part of her wonders…just for a moment…if he’d picked up on her thought. But he couldn’t have, she decides. He hasn’t got the temperament of a telepath, although all of those she’s met have been after the fact. There’s always the possibility he’ll grow into it.
“That’s nice, dear,” she says, and Peter beams.
“And the flowers, they’re from Dad,” he points at the single rose in its glass. “There’s more downstairs. He’s gonna call later, too, he told me to tell you he was really sorry, and-“
“That’s fine, sweetheart,” she says, smiling as Peter takes a breath. Sees him give a quick, furtive glance at the strawberries in their crystal bowl. “Did you want some strawberries, Peter?”
The boy gives a small giggle that makes him seem younger than he is, and nods.
“All right, but you’re going to have to make it up to me.”
“I’ll take you to see a movie,” he says, dark eyes suddenly craftier, very much his father’s, even if neither of them ever see that. “You can pay.”
“How about just a hug for now?”
“Well…” Peter seems to consider the option. “Okay, then.”
And he throws his arms around her neck, and she can’t imagine being happier.
Title: The Soft Advantage of High Expectations
Characters: Niki Sanders and D.L. Hawkins
Word Count: 237
Rating: PG13
Summary:
Las Vegas, 1995
She blinks awake to D.L. beaming down at her, and has to blink again.
“Baby?” she mumbles, brings a hand up to her forehead. “You okay?”
“Okay?” D.L. grins. “Nik, I’m fantastic.”
“Okay…” she says, and tries to sit up. Feels the room spin a little, and the all-too-familiar urge to…
“Bucket time?” D.L.’s hand under her elbow and face suddenly concerned, although his eyes are still grinning.
“No, I think I’m…” she swallows. “I think I’m okay.”
“You sure? Because it’s right there, I can run and-“
“D.L.” She rests a hand on his chest.. “Seriously, I’m fine. Plus, it’s not like I’ve got anything in me to barf up anymore.”
“You really sure?”
“Don’t look so disappointed,” she tries to smile. “God, this kid…”
“This kid is going to be awesome,” D.L. says, seriously, his hand settling on her belly as she laughs a little.
“Yeah, once he gets the hell out of me,” she croaks, her throat suddenly tight. “Fuck, I feel so…”
“Drop-dead gorgeous?”
And she laughs for real this time.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she pushes back a strand of greasy hair and shakes her head.
“Baby, you look so amazing to me right now, I-”
“Yeah, yeah,” she tries to wave him off, only to find his hand grabbing hold of hers.
“You’re amazing.” He tells her again, and she thinks she just might believe him.
Title: Present
Characters: The Bennet Family
Word Count: 322
Rating: PG
Summary:
Odessa, 2003
He eases the door open as quietly as he can, only to be met with enough noise coming from the kitchen that he’s pretty sure it wouldn’t have made a difference.
“Lyle, what are you doing?” he hears Claire hiss, and Lyle’s response is lost entirely as he steps into the room and they both see him.
“Dad!” they both rush up to hug him, and he smiles as he surveys the numerous bowls in the sink and flour on every conceivable surface.
“Mom’s going to be so-“
“Wait here, we’ll make it a surprise, and-“
“Okay, okay,” he says, as the two of them take a step back. “Is she still asleep?”
“Uh-huh,” Lyle nods, and he holds back a grin. As if Sandra could sleep through that.
“So what are we making?” he spots the skillet on the stove and the butter melting on the counter. “Pancakes?”
“Blueberry-“
“Chocolate chip-“
Claire and Lyle stop to glare at each other, and Noah shakes his head.
“How about this, we’ll do half a batch of each.”
Claire nods, and he pretends not to see her stick her tongue out at her brother.
“Oh, and Claire-bear?” he gets out his car keys and hands them to her. “Go get your mom’s present out of the car, okay?”
“Sure,” she beams, and dashes out.
He gets a start on cleaning off the countertops, before he hears the shriek and sees Claire rush back in.
“A puppy?!” Claire giggles, holding the small, fluffy creature to her chest, and then darting up to kiss him on the cheek, jostling the glasses he’s still not used to wearing. “You’re the best dad ever, she’s going to…”
He doesn’t hear what, exactly, Claire thinks Sandra’s going to do, but chuckles as he watches her and Lyle bound up the stairs, pancakes forgotten and puppy in tow.
This was definitely worth coming home for.
Title: Definition
Characters: Molly Walker and Mrs. Suresh
Word Count: 471
Rating: PG
Summary:
Chennai, 2007
She isn’t sure what to call Mohinder’s mother.
Amma, is what she’d heard him call her, but that’s clearly mom. And she doesn’t know, calling her that is out of the question, but asking how to say Grandma is a little weird, and what if she doesn’t want her to…
She thinks of looking it up.
Mohinder’s room, the one where she sleeps, has a computer that’s older than any she’s seen outside of her school in New York City, but it’s hooked up to the internet and faster than she expects it to be, so she definitely could.
But she doesn’t know if she even wants to use it, isn’t even sure if it’s the right word, so she just waits for the computer to warm up and does research for the homework Mrs. Suresh gives her.
She’d been a teacher, Mohinder had told her. She’d help her keep up with her work, be ready to go back to school. When it’s safe goes unsaid but she knows that’s what he means.
She checks in on him once or twice, but after a while…after a while she stops.
It’s hotter in Chennai most days than it ever was in LA, and dustier too. But she likes it. There’s a garden, and cool tile under her bare feet, and Mrs. Suresh keeps the doors open and she can feel the breezes waft all around the house so that even when she’s not outside, she can smell the flowers and the heat.
She thinks her parents would have enjoyed going to India. They’d always wanted to travel, but the farthest they’d ever managed to go was Las Vegas, once, and they’d come home pretty quickly. Too much of the wrong kind of light, her mom had said.
The light in Chennai almost seems to have a weight, almost seems to part like a curtain when the sun sets, and it’s actually cold at night.
Mrs. Suresh tells her, over cookies that she calls biscuits and tea that is spicier than the light brown stuff her other grandma used to drink, that her parents are happy that she’s already travelled more than they ever did.
That that’s what parents always want, for their children to go further and do more than they were able to. That it’s not bad for children (Mrs. Suresh says it in general, but Molly knows she’s talking about her) to be better or different or happy without them.
And she uses the present tense, but she doesn’t make a big deal out of it. Molly wonders if it’s a reincarnation thing or a comforting thing or something else, but she decides, that day, that she doesn’t care.
Upputtha, she finds out. She’s not sure if she’ll be able to pronounce it, but she's sure going to try.
*
General Note: Not all of them are supposed to take place exactly on Mother's Day.
Title: People
Character: Guess ;)
Word Count: 329
Rating: PG
Summary:
Blackpool, 1968
Small hands gripping at cool glass, forehead furrowed in concentration, as a soft voice directs him to be careful.
“Bit early for the two of you.”
He turns, reaching to set the glass bottle on the counter before his sister pulls it from his grasp and does it for him. He frowns, but knows she won’t notice.
“Wanted to see you off this mornin’,” he hears her say, quickly, and their mother smiles. “And he…” she nudges him forward, even as frowns up at her again and tries to stay where he is automatically. “Wanted to give you somethin’.”
“What is it, dove?” his mum coos. Drops to one knee to be able to meet his eyes, but he looks away. Reaches into his pocket, removing the much folded and smudged sheet that he doesn’t let her take until he’s unfolded it himself and glanced over it again.
And it had seemed beautiful before, smooth lines and plumy chest just right, grey feathers and bright eyes, but now it’s just a bunch of smudges and scrawls and lines from where it was folded, and he thrusts it towards her, eyes dropping to stare at his newly shined shoes.
“You drew this, pet?” a quick nod and shuffle in place, but he doesn’t look. “It’s lovely. He have a name?”
“Henry,“ mumbled as he glances up, blue eyes darting to meet hers and then away.
“Well, of course,” she says, smoothing it out over her knee. “Looks just like a Henry, doesn’t he?”
“Just like,” his sister chimes, and the little boy hides a grin.
“Give us a kiss, love,” and he darts up to oblige, taking in the scent of soap and scorched hair. “Be back ‘round midday, we’ll go up and see the ducks, all right?”
He gives another nod as she gives him a peck on the cheek, and straightens. Her dark skirt swirling around her as she goes, and he goes back to pouring his milk.
Title: Plateau
Characters: Angela and Peter Petrelli
Word Count: 564
Rating: PG
Summary:
New York City, 1986
She hears the soft pad of bare feet on wood floors, and shuts her eyes.
The door creaks open, carefully, and the rattle of silverware against china barely on this side of concerning, and she manages to keep pretending to sleep.
Until she hears Peter clear his throat, very quietly, and mumble out a quick, “Mom?”
“Oh, Peter…” she feigns a yawn and sits up. “What time is…” she finally gets a good look at the tray he’s carrying, and pauses. “Did you make all of that yourself?”
Peter gives her an almost smug, definitely satisfied grin, and nods.
“Well, come sit, sit,” she says, smoothing down the comforter and patting the space beside her.
Peter takes small, calculated steps and sets the tray down first, managing to spill only a bit of the coffee into its saucer and none of the orange juice. The small flower vase with a single rose wobbles just barely and then rights itself.
“This smells wonderful, Peter,” she doesn’t even have to pretend to be sincere, as she lifts the cover off the plate. “Is this…”
“A Spanish omelet,” Peter rushes out. “And those are strawberries romani- roma-“
“Romanov,” she corrects, automatically, and sees Peter’s face cloud. Takes a fast bit of the omelet, which is, “Delicious.”
And Peter brightens again, automatically. She smiles around another bite.
“You really made this all by yourself, dear?”
“Uh-huh,” Peter nods again. “Anita taught me last week.”
And thinking back on it, she must have seen part of the lesson. Peter giggling about something from atop a stool, doing a very bad job of seeming innocent when she walked into the kitchen and then bursting into another set of giggles when she walked out. She should’ve noticed something, then, but…
But it had been a long week, that week. Nathan had called on Monday to inform the family that he was going to spend the next couple of weeks in Mexico, and Arthur had been about set to go down to Annapolis to inform him that that would not be the case.
“Nathan’s gonna call you this afternoon,” Peter says, brightly, and part of her wonders…just for a moment…if he’d picked up on her thought. But he couldn’t have, she decides. He hasn’t got the temperament of a telepath, although all of those she’s met have been after the fact. There’s always the possibility he’ll grow into it.
“That’s nice, dear,” she says, and Peter beams.
“And the flowers, they’re from Dad,” he points at the single rose in its glass. “There’s more downstairs. He’s gonna call later, too, he told me to tell you he was really sorry, and-“
“That’s fine, sweetheart,” she says, smiling as Peter takes a breath. Sees him give a quick, furtive glance at the strawberries in their crystal bowl. “Did you want some strawberries, Peter?”
The boy gives a small giggle that makes him seem younger than he is, and nods.
“All right, but you’re going to have to make it up to me.”
“I’ll take you to see a movie,” he says, dark eyes suddenly craftier, very much his father’s, even if neither of them ever see that. “You can pay.”
“How about just a hug for now?”
“Well…” Peter seems to consider the option. “Okay, then.”
And he throws his arms around her neck, and she can’t imagine being happier.
Title: The Soft Advantage of High Expectations
Characters: Niki Sanders and D.L. Hawkins
Word Count: 237
Rating: PG13
Summary:
Las Vegas, 1995
She blinks awake to D.L. beaming down at her, and has to blink again.
“Baby?” she mumbles, brings a hand up to her forehead. “You okay?”
“Okay?” D.L. grins. “Nik, I’m fantastic.”
“Okay…” she says, and tries to sit up. Feels the room spin a little, and the all-too-familiar urge to…
“Bucket time?” D.L.’s hand under her elbow and face suddenly concerned, although his eyes are still grinning.
“No, I think I’m…” she swallows. “I think I’m okay.”
“You sure? Because it’s right there, I can run and-“
“D.L.” She rests a hand on his chest.. “Seriously, I’m fine. Plus, it’s not like I’ve got anything in me to barf up anymore.”
“You really sure?”
“Don’t look so disappointed,” she tries to smile. “God, this kid…”
“This kid is going to be awesome,” D.L. says, seriously, his hand settling on her belly as she laughs a little.
“Yeah, once he gets the hell out of me,” she croaks, her throat suddenly tight. “Fuck, I feel so…”
“Drop-dead gorgeous?”
And she laughs for real this time.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she pushes back a strand of greasy hair and shakes her head.
“Baby, you look so amazing to me right now, I-”
“Yeah, yeah,” she tries to wave him off, only to find his hand grabbing hold of hers.
“You’re amazing.” He tells her again, and she thinks she just might believe him.
Title: Present
Characters: The Bennet Family
Word Count: 322
Rating: PG
Summary:
Odessa, 2003
He eases the door open as quietly as he can, only to be met with enough noise coming from the kitchen that he’s pretty sure it wouldn’t have made a difference.
“Lyle, what are you doing?” he hears Claire hiss, and Lyle’s response is lost entirely as he steps into the room and they both see him.
“Dad!” they both rush up to hug him, and he smiles as he surveys the numerous bowls in the sink and flour on every conceivable surface.
“Mom’s going to be so-“
“Wait here, we’ll make it a surprise, and-“
“Okay, okay,” he says, as the two of them take a step back. “Is she still asleep?”
“Uh-huh,” Lyle nods, and he holds back a grin. As if Sandra could sleep through that.
“So what are we making?” he spots the skillet on the stove and the butter melting on the counter. “Pancakes?”
“Blueberry-“
“Chocolate chip-“
Claire and Lyle stop to glare at each other, and Noah shakes his head.
“How about this, we’ll do half a batch of each.”
Claire nods, and he pretends not to see her stick her tongue out at her brother.
“Oh, and Claire-bear?” he gets out his car keys and hands them to her. “Go get your mom’s present out of the car, okay?”
“Sure,” she beams, and dashes out.
He gets a start on cleaning off the countertops, before he hears the shriek and sees Claire rush back in.
“A puppy?!” Claire giggles, holding the small, fluffy creature to her chest, and then darting up to kiss him on the cheek, jostling the glasses he’s still not used to wearing. “You’re the best dad ever, she’s going to…”
He doesn’t hear what, exactly, Claire thinks Sandra’s going to do, but chuckles as he watches her and Lyle bound up the stairs, pancakes forgotten and puppy in tow.
This was definitely worth coming home for.
Title: Definition
Characters: Molly Walker and Mrs. Suresh
Word Count: 471
Rating: PG
Summary:
Chennai, 2007
She isn’t sure what to call Mohinder’s mother.
Amma, is what she’d heard him call her, but that’s clearly mom. And she doesn’t know, calling her that is out of the question, but asking how to say Grandma is a little weird, and what if she doesn’t want her to…
She thinks of looking it up.
Mohinder’s room, the one where she sleeps, has a computer that’s older than any she’s seen outside of her school in New York City, but it’s hooked up to the internet and faster than she expects it to be, so she definitely could.
But she doesn’t know if she even wants to use it, isn’t even sure if it’s the right word, so she just waits for the computer to warm up and does research for the homework Mrs. Suresh gives her.
She’d been a teacher, Mohinder had told her. She’d help her keep up with her work, be ready to go back to school. When it’s safe goes unsaid but she knows that’s what he means.
She checks in on him once or twice, but after a while…after a while she stops.
It’s hotter in Chennai most days than it ever was in LA, and dustier too. But she likes it. There’s a garden, and cool tile under her bare feet, and Mrs. Suresh keeps the doors open and she can feel the breezes waft all around the house so that even when she’s not outside, she can smell the flowers and the heat.
She thinks her parents would have enjoyed going to India. They’d always wanted to travel, but the farthest they’d ever managed to go was Las Vegas, once, and they’d come home pretty quickly. Too much of the wrong kind of light, her mom had said.
The light in Chennai almost seems to have a weight, almost seems to part like a curtain when the sun sets, and it’s actually cold at night.
Mrs. Suresh tells her, over cookies that she calls biscuits and tea that is spicier than the light brown stuff her other grandma used to drink, that her parents are happy that she’s already travelled more than they ever did.
That that’s what parents always want, for their children to go further and do more than they were able to. That it’s not bad for children (Mrs. Suresh says it in general, but Molly knows she’s talking about her) to be better or different or happy without them.
And she uses the present tense, but she doesn’t make a big deal out of it. Molly wonders if it’s a reincarnation thing or a comforting thing or something else, but she decides, that day, that she doesn’t care.
Upputtha, she finds out. She’s not sure if she’ll be able to pronounce it, but she's sure going to try.
*