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Chapter Text

When she left her apartment that morning, she’d given herself the entire six hour drive to make a decision: go straight to the hospital to visit Grammy? Or go to the empty house and crawl under a musty afghan until morning?

And now here she was, at the literal crossroads and she still hadn’t decided. Her ass ached after sitting most of the day, and her brain was fuzzy. Dorothy Ann dropped her forehead to her steering wheel with a groan. In the fear and the panic after Grammy’s stroke two months ago, D.A. had volunteered to get the family home up and ready for her grandmother’s return. It was easy to promise all sorts of things from three hundred miles away. She hadn’t actually considered the fact that doing so would require an extended stay in Walkerville over the holidays. 

She would have idled there at the corner of County Road Six and Main another six hours, but a horn blared loud and long from behind her. D.A. startled, knocking her turn signal on. A giant truck grill dominated in the reflection of her rear view mirror, its LED headlights so bright she had to squint. “Fuck you!” She yelped. “Fuck this,” she kept muttering as she jerked her steering wheel to the right. “Fuck this town. Fuck that truck. And that one, too.” Her hands tightened on the wheel as her tires slipped on the compacted snow. She glanced at the rear view again to discover the truck had turned the same direction.

Just a coincidence, she assured herself as she drove past the elementary school at the heart of the town. They’re just running errands probably. The supermarket and depressingly empty strip mall came and went. The truck still followed.

Grammy’s house was in the Walkerville historic district, a motley mix of architecture styles in various states of decay. The truck was bound to turn off at some point…but when she turned onto Hyacinth Circle, the truck did as well. And when she parked in Grammy’s uneven brick driveway, it pulled in behind her. Granny’s colonial sat in the middle of its block, windows dark, porch light off.

D.A. reached for her phone. No way was she getting out of her car when some asshole was blocking her in, lying in wait to rape and

murder her. Not her, not today, asshole. Her fingers shook as she searched for phone number for the Walkerville police station. She fumbled as a car door opened and shut and someone approached, their boots crunching on the snow. 

Forget the cops, she’d handle this herself. She dragged her purse onto her lap and began digging through it to find her pepper spray. She was still searching when someone tapped on her window.

“Go away!” She snapped, not bothering to look up. Her fingers closed around the smooth metal cylinder.

They tapped again. This time, she was ready. D.A. rolled down her window and brandished her weapon threateningly. “I said go away or I’m calling the cops!”

“Dorothy Ann?”

Oh no.

Her finger hovered over the trigger. “Carlos?”

The man crouching next to her car, his face mere inches from peppery doom, only bore a passing resemblance to the boy she once knew. Until he grinned, creasing his cheeks. A familiar mischievous gleam lit his eyes. “Hey, D.A,” he said. “Knock knock.”

She growled deep in her throat, and the noise only made him smile wider. “Tell me you didn’t follow me through all of Walkerville to ask me a knock knock joke.” She reluctantly lowered the pepper spray and returned it to her purse. The Carlos she remembered was a lot of things, but a predator he definitely was not.

“Knock. Knock,” he repeated, leaning into her open window.

D.A. sighed and let her head fall back against the headrest. “Who’s there?”

“Orange.”

“Orange who?” 

Carlos waited until she met his eyes again to finish his punchline. Despite the bite of winter air coming through her window, a frizzle of heat danced through her core. “Orange you glad to see me?”

D.A. blinked, her groan already building in her chest. “Carlos!”

He chuckled, the sound deeper and mellower than she remembered. “There she is,” he said with a wink, rising from his crouch. “Emmy said she expected you to arrive tonight. She asked me to turn the water back on for you.”

“Why were you talking to my Grammy? And why is the water off?” D.A. rolled up her window and turned off her car before he could answer. When she finally stepped from her rented sedan, he was there to steady her as the blood returned to her ass. 

“It’s not wise to leave water on in the winter if you’re not there. We turned it off as soon as it looked like she’d be in the hospital awhile.” Carlos shrugged, his hand still cupping her elbow.

D.A. wanted to wrench her arm away, really she did. But the bricks beneath her feet were treacherous when icy. “Who’s we?”

“You remember my brother Mikey?” At her nod, Carlos nudged her out of the way so he could reach inside and pop the trunk. “You have bags right?”

“Yeah, but why…”

He disappeared behind the open trunk and dragged out her roller bag. “We run a construction company, Ramon Brothers Construction,” he said.

D.A.’s eyes narrowed as the pieces came together. “And you want me to hire you,” she concluded, her voice flat.

Carlos set her bag down in the snow, the playful expression disappearing from his face. “Well, yes but not like-“

“I can’t believe this!” D.A. snapped, grabbing the bag’s handle and tugging it towards the door. “I’m not even back in town ten freaking minutes and you’re hitting me up for a job. God!” Why couldn’t a friend ever just be a friend?

“D.A, wait!” Carlos called after her. She could hear his footsteps crunching across the snow behind her, but she didn’t stop until she’d dragged her bag up the sagging porch steps. He caught up to her as she was rifling through her pockets for her keys. “You didn’t let me finish,” he said, his breath whispering over her ear.

“I didn’t want to,” she replied. “At this point, I just want to take a hot shower and disassociate by staring at my phone for a good three or four hours.” She finally located the right key and slotted it into the lock. As it clicked and opened, she hazarded a glance over her shoulder.

Carlos’s gaze had gone fuzzy. When he noticed her looking at him, he gave his head a subtle shake before giving that patented grin. The grin she’d spent her middle school and high school years alternately craving and hating. The one that turned her knees to jelly every time he turned it in her direction. 

“What?” She asked, dreading his answer.

“I can turn your water back on,” he said, looking smug. “IF you give me a chance and listen to what I was trying to say.”

D.A. shook her head in exasperation. “I’m perfectly capable of figuring it out myself,” she reminded him.

“Ah yes, but I already know where the hook up is and how to do it.” Carlos held up his index finger and booked her nose with it. “You’d be in that shower a lot faster if you let me do it.”

Damnit, he was right. “Fine. Turn on the water and I’ll listen to your sales pitch. For ten minutes.”

Now he was wagging that infuriating finger in her face. D.A. was half inclined to bite it off.

“Ten minute sales pitch and take out, I’m buying.”

D.A. eyed the darkened house behind her. She hadn’t even thought of food yet. She doubted anything in Grammy’s pantry was bought before 1995, and she hadn’t thought to buy groceries on her way into town. “Fine. But I pick the place,” she grumbled, finally stepping into the darkened front hall.

“Aha!” Carlos pumped his fists in triumph before jumping off the porch and disappearing around the house. 

Shutting the door after herself, D.A. decided that next time, she’d go to the hospital first.

Chapter Text

After crawling through the snow and mud under the house, it dawned on Carlos that he should have negotiated a shower for himself too. To be fair, his brain had only been firing on half its cylinders since he’d pictured D.A. under a spray of hot water, her soft skin turning pink from the heat, her curves soapy and slick…

As a kid, he’d had his fair share of teenaged boy fantasies about the girls in his class, including Dorothy Ann. How could he not when she was so cute and always too preoccupied to notice his horndog proclivities? But D.A. from fifteen years ago didn’t hold a candle to D.A. of today. The added weight suited her, settling in all the right places. Her blonde hair, always so neatly pulled back, now fell to her shoulders in intentionally messy waves that looked like she’d been held down and—

Carlos gave his head a hard shake. Well that train of thought went off the rails quick. As he neared the front porch, he bent and grabbed a handful of snow. He slapped it on the back of his neck with a grimace, shocking the dirty thoughts out of his head. At least until he was home in his own bed. 

She’d left the door open for him, and he was torn between being grateful and wanting to lecture her on safety. According to her grandmother, D.A. lived by herself in an apartment in Boston. She should know better. Oh god, was she leaving her door unlocked in the city?

The house creaked around him as water rushed through the pipes. D.A. had turned on all the downstairs lights, illuminating the house as her grandmother had left it the morning of her stroke. Carlos had been by once or twice to turn off the water and dispose of the food in the fridge, but other than that, it was a cluttered time capsule to two months ago. Bills were piled on the hallway table, a pair of sensible, orthopedic sneakers kicked off by the door, a sweater draped over the newel post. He’d been so amused to see how type-A Dorothy Ann’s grandmother moved through her house like a tornado, clutter naturally accumulating in her wake. How that must grate on D.A.’s sense of order.

And how wrong he’d been. Because D.A. had blazed her own trail of messiness through the entry way. She hadn’t even dragged her suitcase to her room; instead, she’d opened it right there in the front hall, got what she needed, and left the rest spilling out in a pile on the floor. If there had been any neatness or order in her packing, it was destroyed now. Carlos’s fingers itched to fold her clothing for her, but he knew better. Instead, he turned and picked his way through the dining room and into the kitchen.

He washed his hands in the sink and noted the counter height. It’d been built before industry standards and was higher than modern countertops. That would be a problem.

When he finished, Carlos went back to the doorframe and mentally measured its width. He contemplated getting his tape measure from the truck, but based on D.A.’s earlier reaction, she wouldn’t react kindly to finding him taking dimensions in her grandmother’s house. 

The pipes above him shuddered and clanked as D.A. turned off the water upstairs. Shaking his head, Carlos returned to the front hall to wait. He entertained himself by looking at the dozens of framed photographs that lined the walls and every surface. There were at least a dozen of D.A.’s parents in various exotic or remote settings, combing the planet for their storytelling materials. They’d done more than a few presentations for Walkerville Elementary throughout the years. D.A.’s face would flush so pink when they launched into enthusiastic yodels or throat singing in front of the whole school. Carlos’s lips curled upward at the memory. Even his ten year old self knew better than to tease her about her parents’ unorthodox career.

For every picture of her parents, there were three of Dorothy Ann. Accepting awards and playing soccer, graduating high school, college and law school. Every awkward school dance picture had its own spot of honor on the wall, including a group picture that had his own gangly-ass face staring back at him.

“Senior prom, I think,” came D.A.’s voice behind him.

Carlos jumped and spun around, to find her less than a foot from him, her damp hair causing wet patches to spread over the thin fabric of her tee-shirt. “Oh yeah,” he said dumbly, swallowing at the sight of her skin hugging yoga pants.

A tiny smile played over D.A.’s lips. “Wanda insisted, saying it was the last time we’d ever be together in one place. Ms. Frizzle’s last class.” 

Carlos returned his attention to the picture. “That’s right, they cut the program after us. Budget cuts.”

D.A. shrugged, but her expression wasn’t nearly as nonchalant as her body language implied. “It was a massive liability. I’m amazed they never got sued, considering…”

He caught her eye and held it, letting the rest go unsaid. Like every former student of Ms. Frizzle, he’d had to wrestle with the knowledge that magic existed, that there were entire universes of knowledge to learn from…only for it all to be cut off, inaccessible when the program ended. It had been like losing a limb. And even worse, without the class, there was nothing to bind them together. Friendship and shared adventures hadn’t been enough. “It was worth it, though,” he said, his voice embarrassingly rough. 

D.A. shifted her attention back to the picture, breaking their eye contact. “Wanda wasn’t wrong,” she finally said. “I don’t think we ever were together again as a group after graduation. Not even when she and Arnold got married.”

“And now with the divorce, we probably never will,” Carlos sighed.

“Wait, what?” D.A.’s mouth dropped open. “When did that happen?”

Carlos cocked an eyebrow when her stomach rumbled loud enough to hear. “Let’s order food first,” he suggested. “Then I’ll spill all the gossip.” 

“Tennelli’s, cheese pizza, fried ravioli, and a cannoli.” D.A. recited quickly. “Get ordering!”

He laughed as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “You live in Boston and you want Walkerville’s finest Italian food?”

“I want what I want, and what I want is carbs and cheese. And gossip,” D.A. admitted with another shrug, revealing she wasn’t wearing a bra under her tee.

“Whatever mi’lady wants,” Carlos said with a stately bow.

Chapter Text

D.A. shamelessly listened in as Carlos placed their order with his best friend and their former classmate, Ralphie Tennelli. 

“No, it’s not all for me. …No, I’m not telling you who I’m with, you nosy son of a…yes, use that card. Don’t you dare tip yourself fifty percent. Fool me once, shame on me…” She raised her eyebrows, and Carlos rolled his eyes skyward. She bit the inside of her lip to stifle the smile that wanted to escape. Carlos and Ralphie had always lightened the tone in Ms. Frizzle’s class. She was glad they were still friends, even if it did leave her feeling curiously empty inside.

D.A. stepped away and curled into the corner of Grammy’s couch. A fine puff of dust filled the air, and she rubbed her nose to ward off a sneeze. It felt wrong to be here without Grammy or her parents. She would never in a million years admit it, but she was grateful for Carlos’s presence. He gave her something to focus on that wasn’t about Grammy’s stroke or the work she had waiting for her back home. 

Carlos’s presence filled every empty corner of the space, his warm tenor banishing the creaks and moans of an old house settling. “Delivery…ah…” he glanced back at her and mouthed Sorry, before rattling off Grammy’s address. 

On the other end of the line, Ralphie’s volume increased until he was talking loud enough for her to hear, even from across the room. “Are you with D.A.? Hi D.A.! What are you doing with this jabroni?”

“Hi Ralphie,” she called back at the same time Carlos said “Gotta go, have one of your drivers deliver, bye!”

He shoved his phone back into his pocket and joined her on the couch, resting his arm along the back. He was unnecessarily close; his fingers nearly brushed her shoulder. “There is a not zero chance that Ralphie will be here in twenty minutes,” he said apologetically. 

D.A. shrugged, confirming that yes, his hand was close enough to touch her. Surprisingly, she didn’t really mind. “That’s ok, I don’t have anything against Ralphie. He’s not so hard to be around as some people.”

“Oh?” Carlos’s eyebrows winged up his face. “Are you referring to me?”

“No,” she shifted uncomfortably under his assessing stare. “You’re low effort too.”

He burst out laughing. “Low effort? Me?”

D.A. huffed, sending a strand of hair flying. Carlos moved to smooth it down without a thought. “Well, yeah. I don’t have to watch my words or worry about offending you guys. I spend all day, every day talking to lawyers who will jump down my throat if I say the wrong thing. They argue and devils advocate everything. It’s refreshing to talk to simpler people.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” he said, his mouth twisting into a wry smile. 

“It is,” she admitted, laying her head against the back of the sofa. “But don’t tell anyone I said so.”

She felt his eyes on her as silence stretched between them a beat too long. A chill raced over her skin, pebbling her nipples and reminding her too late about her lack of a bra. D.A. turned to meet his stare. 

Carlos cleared his throat and withdrew his arm. “So, what do you want to hear first? My ‘business pitch’ as you called it? Or the gossip?”

D.A. straightened her spine and rubbed her temples. She’d almost forgotten how he’d followed her and bullied his way into her Grammy’s house. “Business first,” she answered wearily.

“It’s not what you think,” he said, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees. “Mikey and I have a construction company. We do very well, so we put aside a percentage of our profits to help people with disabilities to make their houses more accessible.”

D.A. blinked, waiting for her mind to catch up. “Because Mikey’s in a wheelchair. So you’d know what someone would need. Better than anyone else.”

Carlos nodded. “The hospital and social services in town all have our number. They’re the ones who hooked us up with your grandmother.”

“Oh!” Her cheeks heated. “And I thought…oh god.”

“No, it’s okay,” Carlos rushed to assure her. He twisted his body until their knees were touching. “I didn’t exactly start off on the right foot earlier.” 

“So what do I need to do? Are there forms involved or…” D.A. searched her immediate area for a pen.

Carlos’s warm hand squeezed her knee, bringing her attention back to him. “We can do the assessment and paperwork in the morning. When I saw you, I just wanted to schedule the appointment. Your grandmother couldn’t remember your phone number.”

“I probably wouldn’t have answered,” she admitted. “I don’t answer unknown numbers.”

“Fair enough.” He withdrew his hand. “Tomorrow at 10:00 good?”

At D.A.’s nod, his smile transformed from kind to mischievous. “Now onto the gossip,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

Chapter Text

As expected, Ralphie personally delivered their food, eager to stir shit up and make Carlos’s life miserable. Thankfully, D.A. appeared to enjoy his best friend’s company. After eating as much carbs and cheese as her body could handle, she was happy to sit back and let their inane chatter roll over her.

Ralphie was listing his theories as to why Wanda and Arnold broke up, when Carlos heard a little snore from the end of the couch. 

Lifting a finger to his lips, he signaled for his friend to shut up.

“Why?” Ralphie asked at full volume. Then when Carlos gestured to D.A.’s sleeping form, “Oh. Sorry.”

“Get back to work,” Carlos whispered, gathering the trash from their meal. “I’ll clean this up.”

Ralphie crossed his beefy arms over his chest and shook his head. “No offense, I know you won’t do anything, but I’m going to stay here until you leave, just in case. It’s not right to leave a sleeping woman alone with a strange man.” When Carlos tried to object, he cut him off. “She hasn’t seen either of us in over ten years,” he reminded him. “We’re essentially strangers, just with a history.”

Carlos’s mouth twisted. “Fine.” Ralphie’s logic, though flawed, came from the same place of protectiveness he reserved for his waitstaff and single women patrons at his bar. He couldn’t very well get mad at someone ensuring D.A.’s safety. 

He cleared away the pizza boxes and take out cartons, putting the leftovers in the fridge. Then he left Ralphie waiting by the door while he searched for a throw blanket to put over D.A.’s sleeping form. 

She mumbled and snuggled deeper into the couch cushions as he tucked the blanket edges under her legs and shoulders. Her eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. “Goodnight, Dorothy Ann,” he murmured. “See you in the morning.”

“G’night, Carlos,” she said, her voice soft and sweet. God, he wanted to stay the night and wake up to that voice. 

Instead, he forced himself to rejoin Ralphie and head back out into the biting December cold, making sure the door was locked behind them.

***

Despite a crick in her neck and a lingering stomach ache from too much grease the night before, D.A.’s steps felt light as air as she followed the nurse’s directions to Grammy’s room. Someone had already pulled back the curtains, flooding the space with light. Grammy sat upright in her bed, a breakfast tray before her. Her left hand shook as she tried to bring a spoonful of oatmeal to her pursed lips.

D.A. waited until most of it had gone in before calling, “Good morning, Grammy!”

Grammy startled anyway. Her spoon fell back to the tray with a wet clatter. “Is that my Dorothy Ann?” She asked, squinting towards the door.

Her smile faltered as she shrugged off her winter coat. The doctors had warned her parents that the stroke had affected her eyesight. She wasn’t prepared for Grammy to stare blankly at the wall as she approached. D.A. rested her hand on Grammy’s forearm as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her paper thin skin. “The one and only,” she answered, staying still as Grammy groped for her hand and squeezed weakly. 

“Oh, you are such a good girl,” Grammy smiled. “You look beautiful.”

D.A. stifled her snort. Now she knew Grammy was blind. She’d skipped the makeup this morning and only bothered to throw her hair into a ponytail before driving to the hospital. She’d opted for more yoga pants and a loose sweater, happy to leave the business attire back in Boston. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Gram,” she replied truthfully. 

“Liar,” Grammy retorted, dropping her arm and groping for her spoon. D.A. helped her locate it, and guided another spoonful into her mouth. “Don’t suppose you brought me anything good to eat? I’m sick of this gruel.”

“I’ll bring you something yummy tomorrow,” D.A. promised. “I was just so excited to get here and see you that I forgot to stop at the bakery.”

“Mmhmm,” Grammy hummed around another bite. “Not so excited that you didn’t come see me last night when you got in.”

D.A.’s cheeks pinkened. “Who told you that?” 

“Your mother called. Asked if you made it safely and I was like ‘now how would I know that?’” She harrumphed, but even with her eyesight dimmed, D.A. recognized that playful twinkle in her Grammy’s eye. 

“I was going to come see you,” she admitted. “But Carlos Ramon-remember him?- wanted to set up an appointment for them to fix up your house. He can build ramps and stuff for you so you can go home finally.”

Grammy processed her words slowly. “Oh how wonderful,” she finally said wistfully. “I’m pretty darn tired of this place. And of course I remember Carlos. He’s a sweet boy.”

“Sure,” D.A. agreed, settling into the seat beside Grammy’s bed, remembering the way he’d tucked that blanket around her last night. “Real sweet.”

“You could do worse,” Grammy hummed. “In fact, I’m sure you have. Like that gentleman who totaled your car a few years ago. What was his name? Brad? Bront?”

“Keep it up and you’ll be spending Christmas alone,” D.A. threatened.

Grammy chuckled. “I’m never alone in here. Company is just a push of a button away.” 

As if on cue, someone scratched at the doorframe before entering the room with quick, brisk strides. “How are we doing today, Mrs. Hudson?” The new arrival rounded the courtesy curtain, rubbing hand sanitizer into her hands. The sunlight set her red hair ablaze, and glinted off the lenses of her glasses. Judging by her scrubs, she was the nurse in duty.

D.A. knew that hair. A peek at the white board across the room confirmed it. She slunk lower in her chair and pretended to be invisible.

It didn’t work. Janet Perlman zeroed in on her immediately. “You have a visitor! How special!” She crossed to Grammy’s other side, pulling a blood pressure monitor cart behind her. “Emmy here hardly ever gets visitors.”

Grammy grimaced as the woman wrapped a cuff around her upper arm. “Janet, this is my granddaughter, Dorothy Ann. She lives in Boston, and has come to help me get my house ready for me.”

“Is that so?” Janet asked, watching the meter as it pumped the cuff full of air. When it finally beeped and deflated, she glanced at D.A. and frowned. “I know you.” She saw the exact moment Janet remembered her. Her lips flattened and her nostrils flared. “You were in that class with my cousin. With that psycho teacher.”

“I’m sorry, what now?” D.A.’s spine straightened. “How dare you call Ms. Frizzle that. And after all the times we saved your ass.”

“From situations she put me in!” Janet hissed, pulling her stethoscope from her neck with more force than necessary. 

“Am I missing something?” Grammy asked, tilting her face towards D.A. 

D.A. drew a finger across her throat, and after a quick glance at Grammy, Janet responded with a rude gesture of her own. “Sorry, Granny,” she said aloud, reaching for her grandmother’s hand as Janet pressed the stethoscope to her chest. “We know each other from back in the day.”

“Aren’t small towns wonderful?“ Grammy sighed, sliding slower against her pillows. “You know just what you’re getting from the people around you, because you’ve known them all your life.”

Janet and D.A. both shuddered in unison.

Her phone began to buzz in her pocket, providing a welcome distraction. D.A. almost rejected the call, but a glance at the clock made her jump to her feet. “Shit, I’ve got to meet Carlos!” 

Across the bed, Janet’s eyes widened before narrowing to slits. “Carlos Ramon?” She asked.

D.A. ignored her. She pressed a kiss to Grammy’s forehead as she swiped to accept the call. “This is Dorothy Hudson,” she said, scurrying from the room.

“This is Carlos Ramon,” Carlos’s voice replied. There was that frizzle of excitement again. “I’m at your grandmothers place, but you’re not here.”

“I’m sorry, I’m on my way.” She mashed the elevator button impatiently. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Ten.”

Another voice murmured on the other end of the line. Carlos swore before responding. “I have another appointment at eleven thirty.”

“I’m on my way,” D.A. repeated as she stepped onto the elevator, all thoughts of Janet banished from her mind.

Chapter Text

Mikey drummed his fingers on the wheels of his chair, checking his watch for the tenth time. Carlos leaned against his truck door and rolled his eyes. “She’s driving here from the hospital. It won’t take that long.”

His brother spun his chair to glare at him. “I have shit to do,” Mikey said irritably. “You sprung this assessment on me last minute, convinced me it was high priority, and now we’re sitting here waiting twiddling our thumbs. For what? There’s got to be better ways for you to get laid, Carlos.”

“I’m not above punching someone in a wheelchair,” Carlos warned, straightening from his slouch. “And don’t you dare talk like that in front of D.A.”

Mikey crossed his arms over his chest. “Try it and I’ll crush your toes.” 

Carlos was tempted, just to work off some of the restless energy coiling beneath his skin. He checked his watch again. It’s been almost twenty minutes. “Let’s get the temporary ramp set up so we’re ready to go when she gets here.”

Grunting, Carlos heaved the foldable aluminum ramp from his truck-bed and hefted it onto his shoulder. He looked to Mikey for his next direction. 

Mikey had been in a wheelchair since childhood, and had experienced every sort of inconvenience imaginable. He studied the porch steps to D.A.’s grandmother’s house and shook his head. “Go ahead and put it down here, but I’m going to need you to push me up it.” 

Carlos grimaced at the steep incline required to get up the steps. “So we’re looking at a ramp with a ninety degree turn.”

Mike was already nodding, jotting down notes in his notebook. “How bad is the lip at the front door?”

“Probably a couple inches?” Carlos lifted his hat to scratch behind his ear. “I didn’t get a chance to measure anything last night.”

“Can’t imagine why not,” Mikey said dryly. He stared up at the three story colonial. “Fucking old houses,” he muttered to himself.

At the sound of an approaching car engine, they both turned and watched D.A.’s sedan pull to a stop by the curb in front of the house. She jumped out with apologies already springing from her lips.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she chanted as she hustled up the brick walkway. She was nearly to them when her foot slipped on an icy patch, sending her pitching forward.

Both Mikey and Carlos moved to catch her, but she landed on her knees before either of them could reach her. “Shit! Fuck! Ow!” D.A. spit out each word as if she was holding back tears.

Carlos waved Mikey back and crouched beside her, offering his arm. “Are you okay?”

“No! Of course I’m not!” She practically shouted, rubbing her hands across her face. After several deep breaths, she finally met his eyes. “I’m sorry, I just don’t like…” she waved at the space around her. “My knee hurts.”

“I’ve got a first aid kit in the truck,” he told her, gently wrapping his arm around her soft waist. “We can get you all patched up and-“

D.A. shook her head. “I’ve wasted enough of your time. Let’s just get this over with.”

Carlos frowned. He didn’t want to be something she had to endure. And he wasn’t nearly ready for this to be over with. 

Mikey rolled forward and held out his hand once she was back on her feet. “Mike Ramon,” he introduced himself. “This walkway is a problem.”

D.A. shook his hand, her own frown deepening. This morning was not going the way he’d imagined it going at all. “Why is it a problem?”

“Look,” Mikey instructed, rolling back and forth across the icy bricks with effort. “I’m an experienced wheelchair user and I can barely navigate them. Your grandmother and her caretaker are going to struggle on these, even in nice weather.”

Her eyes blinked rapidly as she stared down at his wheelchair wheels. “What if they park in the driveway and go over the grass?”

His brother pinned her with a hard stare. “Sure, if you like tracking mud into the house and tearing up the lawn.”

“You could just say no,” D.A. sighed, rubbing her temples.

Carlos tightened his grip on her waist as he guided her towards the front door. “It might not be too bad with the ninety degree ramp,” he offered. “We could extend it almost to the driveway.”

D.A. pulled away at the base of the porch steps, leaving his side cold and his arms empty. Carlos shoved his hands in his pockets and watched her study the temporary ramp set up. She let Mikey explain what kind of ramp would be required without stopping him, even though she’d already figured out the physics of it herself. 

The memory came to him as if it was yesterday; racing to the top of a mountain of pasta just to learn a lesson about simple machines. D.A. and Mikey had been on one team and Carlos on the other. In the end, they’d learned that working together was more important than winning. It was that day that he’d first considered going into business with his annoying little brother.

D.A. caught his eye, and tilted her head in question. Carlos winked at her, and to his delight, she blushed. 

Mikey cleared his throat. “Are you two done?” He asked, glaring at Carlos and D.A. in turn. “Because I have an assessment to do.”

Carlos maneuvered behind his brother and pushed him up the too steep incline into the house. Suddenly, nothing was more important than getting the work part done. Then he could play with D.A.

Chapter Text

D.A. slouched lower onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. Outside, she heard Carlos and Mikey talking to each other, working out their schedule for the rest of the day. There was at least half a dozen things she needed to be doing, not the least of which was bandaging her banged up knees (and her pride), but her body and brain both refused to move from this spot.

A car door slammed and an engine roared to life, shortly followed by heavy work boots in coming up the porch. Carlos let himself in and settled himself beside her on the couch. “You okay?” He asked, tweaking the loose ends of her ponytail.

“I’m fine,” D.A. murmured in reply. “Just going to take a while to process.” The assessment had not gone well. The doors were too narrow, the counters too high, and oh yeah, no way to get Granny safely to the second floor where the one full bath and her bedroom were. 

A warm hand squeezed her shoulder. “It’s not hopeless, D.A.,” Carlos reassured her. “It’s just not going to look the way you envisioned it.” 

“Nothing ever does,” she said ruefully. She rubbed her eyes, staking back the frustrated tears that threatened to make an appearance. “So what’s next? Do you guys do a bid or proposal or something?”

The hand on her shoulder pulled away slowly, trailing down the entire length of her arm. “First, let’s get your knees taken care of,” he finally answered, his voice curiously thick.

D.A. opened her eyes. “You don’t have to-“

Carlos hauled her to her feet with little effort. Her body collided with his, knocking some of the air from her lungs. He stood half a head taller than her now, his frame narrow but sturdy. D.A.’s head swam from the sudden movement. That was it. Nothing else.

He tugged her by the arm up to the second floor bathroom and sat her on the edge of the tub. He took one glance at the overstuffed medicine cabinet and shook his head. “I’m getting my first aid kit from the truck,” he told her. “Don’t move.” And then he was gone, running down the stairs as if she’d broken a bone, not skinned her knee.

While she waited, D.A. stared down at her torn leggings. She must have bled a little because the fabric was stuck to her skin. They were too tight at the calf to roll up, which meant she’d have to roll them down…or take them off entirely. Maybe his kit had bandage shears and she could cut them off at the knee.

She heard Carlos open and close the front door. Maybe if she moved fast enough, she could change into a pair of pajama shorts before he got back.

She managed to wiggle her pants halfway down her thighs when he returned. D.A. yelped as he burst back into the bathroom.

“Sorry! Sorry!” He held the first aid kit over his face. “Hey, what kind of pants do ghosts wear?”

D.A. hopped on one foot as she pulled her leg free. Might as well keep going. “What?”

“Boo jeans.”

She rolled her eyes. “Carlos.”

But he wasn’t done. “But if they’re dirty, they just wear a paranormal pants. Get it?”

“Carlos!” D.A. laughed despite herself. She sat back on the lip of the tub, pulling her shirt as low as it would go. It covered her underwear but just barely. 

Carlos peeked at her around the first aid kit. “You decent?” 

“Whatever,” she sighed, waving him over. “What is pride?”

“Nothing but trouble,” he grinned at her, sinking to kneel in front of her. Despite having been outside, his hands were warm against her skin. She hissed as he cleaned her scrapes with an alcohol wipe, and he soothed her with a gentle caress of her thigh that skirted just this side of friendly. 

Finally, he placed the bandaids with a flourish. “Ta-da!” he announced, squeezing the spot just behind her knees that made her squirm.

D.A. looked down and burst into laughter. “Is that Elsa from Frozen?” 

Carlos grinned up at her. “They’re a big hit with the guys on site.”

“I bet. Do you play doctor with them a lot?”

He shook his head, and an overlong lock of dark hair fell across his forehead. “Only for the most serious, life threatening cases. Like this.”

D.A. flushed, cataloging the way his thumbs swept a little higher each pass. Her heart thundered in her ears. Was she really sitting here- pants-less- with Carlos? Feeling more from an innocent touch than she had in years?

She held her breath and let her legs fall open. Just a little bit, to see what would happen.

Carlos stilled. Then, slowly, so slowly, he bent and pressed a kiss to the skin above her wounds, first one knee then the other. To her disappointment, he straightened again and gave her an apologetic smile. “I have to get to our next appointment,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But can I take you out tonight?”

D.A. drew in a deep breath and nodded, not quite trusting her own breath. At this moment, Carlos could do anything he wanted with her and she’d be putty in his hands.

To her surprise, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her temple before murmuring, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Chapter Text

She’d tried to get her work done that afternoon, she really had. But she couldn’t go more than a paragraph into a brief before remembering the feel of Carlos’s hands on her, or the rasp in his voice betraying he’d been just as aroused as she was. Around three, she just gave up entirely and ran herself a bubble bath.

Through the small bathroom window, she could see wind and snow blowing. At some point, she needed to go Christmas shopping. Maybe she could decorate Grammy’s hospital room to distract her from just how much work the house would need before she could come home. 

D.A. sank lower into the water. She needed to make a list of everything she needed to do but…not yet. She wasn’t ready to face it all yet. 

A magic school bus would be really damn useful right now. What she wouldn’t give to dive into the minutia of some single celled organism instead of dealing with her own problems. But maybe a night out with Carlos would be just as good.

Across the bathroom, her phone dinged from an incoming message. Sighing, she reached for a towel and pushed herself to her feet. Water puddled around her as she swiped at the screen. 

Janet Perlman had sent her a message on SocialMe. D.A. frowned. Even on field trips, she had limited contact with Arnold’s cousin if she could help it. Opening the message, she read:

We should talk. Meet me for coffee in hospital cafeteria tomorrow at 8:00AM.

D.A. snorted. If Janet thought she’d drag her ass out of bed that early to meet with her, she would be sorely disappointed. 

She dropped her phone and returned to her bath, grabbing her razor and shaving cream on the way.

***

Carlos pressed the doorbell, a flutter of anticipation in his stomach. His hair was still wet from his post-work shower, and ice crystals were forming in the strands. He’d nearly maimed himself multiple times that afternoon, thinking about Dorothy Ann and the soft soft skin of her thighs. 

The door swung open. D.A. stood on the other side, her parka in one hand, her purse in the other. Her shy smile was a stark contrast to the form fitting, drool inducing tight jeans and slinky top she wore.

He swallowed. “You look amazing,” he told her.

“You clean up nicely too,” D.A. waggling her eyebrows. 

His pants grew uncomfortably tight. “Are you actually hungry? Because we could stay in. Watch a movie, maybe?”

She was tempted. He could tell she was waffling. Finally, she sighed and began pulling her coat on. “I actually am hungry. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Carlos said, offering her his arm. “Can’t have you fainting from hunger in the middle of, uh, exercising.”

“That would be a shame,” she nodded. “But on the flip side, I might eat too much and only be able to starfish the rest of the night.” 

“You know what? I’ll take that chance,” Carlos said with a wink. Her answering laugh was like sunlight to a seedling. 

Her scent filled the cab of his truck. “I should have made a reservation somewhere,” he said sheepishly. “But I didn’t want to decide for you. Is there anything you want to go in particular?”

D.A. fidgeted with her seatbelt. “Would you think less of me if I said Tennelli’s?”

His mouth curved upwards. “Is that because it’s low effort?”

“Maybe,” she replied. “I want to save my efforts for something else.”

Warmth spread through his chest and downwards. “Maybe just some appetizers and a drink.”

“That would hit the spot,” she agreed. 

He may or may not have broken a few speed limits on the way to the restaurant.

Chapter Text

When Carlos agreed to take D.A. to Tennelli’s, he hadn’t considered its biggest drawback: its clientele. More specifically, his best friends of nearly thirty years.

As soon as they’d been seated, Ralphie came out of the kitchen, baring his latest cocktail attempts. Then Arnold sidled over, lonely as ever and still wearing his wedding ring. And of course neither of them acknowledged his signals to get lost.

Even worse, they’d all stayed connected on social media, and were asking D.A. about things he didn’t even know about, like a vacation to Iceland to see her parents perform, or her law specialty: patent and copyright law.

Carlos shifted in his seat, draping his arm around her shoulders. D.A. glanced at him, a small smile playing across her lips. He brushed his thumb across the bare skin of her neck. Ten more minutes, he promised himself. Then he’d whisk them both out of there, back to his home and—

“Have you run into Janet at the hospital yet?” Arnold’s voice intruded on his thoughts.

“Shit,” he said, at the same time D.A. said “Oh yes, she was there this morning. And then she messaged me for some reason?”

D.A. turned her attention to him. “Why did you say ‘shit’?”

Carlos slunk lower into his seat. He supposed it would have come up eventually…maybe…

Ralphie answered for him, almost breathless in his love for drama. “You don’t know? Carlos and Janet were engaged.”

“Wait, what?” Her eyes widened. She took a deep sip of her drink before asking him directly. “You and Janet?”

Carlos grit his teeth. He only had himself to blame. “It was a long time ago. Everyone else was off at college, and we had some classes together at Walkerville Community College.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “We hit it off at the time.”

“So what happened?” D.A. asked. Her fingers drummed against the table, a steady, staccato beat.

It would be easy to throw his ex under the bus (so to speak), and say Janet had been crazy and possessive. But that would be unfair to both her and D.A. “We just weren’t a good fit. Turns out, I really wasn’t mature enough for marriage at twenty.”

Ralphie guffawed and snagged a breadstick from the basket at the center of the table. “Hell, I don’t think I’m mature enough now.” 

Arnold sighed heavily. He hadn’t shaved in at least a week, and his suit was rumpled. He’d been absolutely certain he was ready for matrimony, until his wife-and only girlfriend he’d ever had- asked to “open up” their marriage. 

“I was almost married once,” D.A. admitted, drawing attention away from Arnold’s melancholy. “He even called it ‘pre-engaged.’ Promise ring and everything.”

“Oh yeah?” Carlos asked nonchalantly, willing his suddenly tense muscles to relax. 

She nodded. Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “He was another lawyer on his way to making partner and just had to hit every cliche on his way up the ladder. Including banging the secretary.” She finished her drink and thumped the glass back to the table. “Whomp whomp.”

“He was an idiot,” Carlos said, nudging her shoulder with his own.

“He was,” she agreed. And then her hand was on his thigh, hidden from view under the table. She turned her attention back to his friends, even as her hand crept upward. “How often do you guys see everyone? I’m so out of the loop in Boston.”

“At least a couple times a year,” Ralphie shrugged. His eyes scanned the room out of habit, always keeping an eye out for his waitstaff and customers, even when it looked like he was fucking off. “Usually around the holidays, I’ll invite whoever’s in town to the feast of the seven fishes on Christmas Eve.”

Carlos hadn’t missed a feast since Ralphie began the tradition after his father died. Attendance ebbed and flowed over time, but at almost every one, he’d searched the crowd for D.A.’s face. “You should come,” he told her. 

She tilted her head back to look at him, her hair brushing over his arm. Before she could respond, however, Arnold sighed from the other side of the table.

“Wanda would love to see you again,” he said, sounding more like Eeyore than ever. 

D.A. broke their gaze to face Arnold. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I’ll think about it. It depends on if Grammy is still in the hospital or not.”

At the reminder of why she was in town, Carlos leaned back in his seat. Under the table, he intercepted her hand and redirected it to a more innocent body part. He and Mikey had argued all afternoon on the Hudson house project and still didn’t have a plan put together to show her. He didn’t want to ruin this date by disappointing her before the pants even came off.

“Oh my gosh,” D.A. said, glancing at her watch. “Carlos, we’re going to be late!”

“Huh?” Carlos frowned. “But…” Her foot kicked his shin under the table. “Oh, right! We’ve got to go to, uh, the movies,” he said over his shoulder to Ralphie and Arnold.

Ralphie smirked. “Yeah, don’t want to miss those trailers,” he called as he waved them off. 

Carlos subtly flipped his friend the bird behind his back as D.A. practically dragged him from the restaurant.

Chapter Text

D.A.’s hands trembled as she fastened her seatbelt. It’s just because it’s cold, she told herself. Not because she was nervous about going home with Carlos Ramon, her third grade crush. Not because she’d literally just run from the idea of reconnecting with people she’d let down or disappointed. 

She flushed as she felt Carlos’s gaze flicked to her before returning his attention to the road. His truck was enormous, and she felt like she was riding on a parade float through Walkerville’s downtown. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice rumbling through the truck cab.

“Huh?” D.A.’s brow furrowed. “Well, condoms are a non-negotiable. Some kink is ok, but I’m not into the rough stuff.”

Carlos choked on his own breath. “I meant about about whatever spooked you back there. Did something happen with Wanda?”

She slunk lower in her seat, her cheeks burning. “I’d rather talk about kink.”

“Ok,” he chuckled. “We’ll table that other discussion for now. What’s your favorite kink? Bondage? Role play?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Water sports?”

“Oh no,” D.A. rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry if that’s your thing but, I’m going to add water sports to my non-negotiable list. And scat play too, that’s a hard pass.”

Carlos snorted. “So your appreciation of brown gold doesn’t extend to the bedroom?”

“Shut up,” she groaned. “That was almost twenty years ago.”

“Some things you never forget,” he replied, steering his truck towards a newer development on the edge of town. “And taking a field trip inside a dung heap on the African Savanna is one of them.” He reached over and squeezed her knee, sending a shockwave of anticipation through her. “I’m pretty vanilla myself, but I’m open to trying whatever at least once.”

D.A. wiggled in her seat. Was it worth it to reveal her deepest secret for just a night— or at best a couple weeks— of good sex? Ms. Frizzle’s voice echoed in her memory; Take chances, make mistakes, and get messy! “Well…,” she started and cleared her throat.

Carlos stilled, waiting patiently for her to finish. He wasn’t going to treat this as a joke. She relaxed incrementally.

“It’s nothing weird. I just have a small, itty bitty, hardly significant, uh, praise kink,” she said all in a rush.

D.A. held her breath, watching the muscle tick in Carlos’s cheek. Finally, he said, “Thank you for telling me. That was very brave.”

“You’re trying not to laugh, aren’t you?”

Carlos’s breath whooshed out of him in one gust. “I’m not making fun of you, I swear!” He pulled into the driveway of a modest ranch-style house with a wheelchair ramp leading to the front door. He inhaled deeply before turning off the engine and twisting to face her. “Two things. First: I’m not surprised because that is just so…Dorothy Ann of you. It just fits.” 

When she opened her mouth to argue— why, she didn’t know— he leaned over and kissed her, unbuckling her seatbelt at the same time. 

“And second,” he said, pulling away reluctantly. “It’s no hardship on me to accommodate. I don’t think I’d ever run out of nice things to say about you.” His thumb traced the curve of her chin, his dark eyes molten with want. “You’re one of the best things to come out of this town.”

She swallowed. “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?”

His hand wrapped behind her neck and pulled her forward until their foreheads touched. “D.A., you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

***

It took every ounce of restraint in him to not snatch D.A. into his arms and caveman carry her into the house. He hadn’t exactly been a monk since his broken engagement, but none of the women he’d dated set him off the way Dorothy Ann did. Her soft curves fit against him like a missing puzzle piece. Her mouth tasted like a rich delicacy that hovered on the line between sweet and savory, and he was starving. “You taste so good,” he murmured against her lips.

“Mmm.” She shivered as she pulled away. “You are good at this. But can we maybe go somewhere warmer?”

He laughed and a puff of air burst from his mouth. “Good idea.” He was out of the truck and at her door in ten seconds flat, reaching to help her down. He pulled her up the ramp to the front door. When her boot heel slipped on a patch of black ice, his arm was there to stabilize her…but he wasn’t stopping until she was in his house and in his bed. 

“Carlos!” D.A. squealed with laughter as he practically kicked the door open. “We’ve got all night! You can slow down!”

Wrong. He had tonight—and if he was lucky the rest of the nights until Christmas— to get his full of Dorothy Ann before she returned to Boston and forgot about him entirely. He had so much he wanted to fit into so little time.

Instead of answering, he backed her against the door and kissed her again. And again. And again, until they both lost their sense of time entirely.

Chapter Text

D.A. severely under-estimated just how hot it could be to be the focus of Carlos’s undivided attention. His words were a jumble of English and Spanish, his breath hot against her skin as he mapped every inch of her body. Her nerve endings sparked and sang with every new sensation. By the time he finally slid into her, she was begging for release.

Instead, he stilled with his forehead pressed to hers. “You feel amazing,” he whispered, his voice haggard. Carlos’s lips curled into a familiar grin. “I’m inside you,” he observed. He flexed and she felt his dick pulse in her very core.

D.A. squeezed back, and his eyes rolled back in his head. “It’s only fair,” she said, biting back her own goofy grin. “I’ve been inside you.”

Carlos pulled back, his stare blank. She waited patiently. Finally, his bark of laughter shook the bed and stirred her insides with its force. D.A.’s own laughter quickly melted into a breathy moan. “Ok, I think we need some ground rules here,” he panted once he could finally catch his breath.

“Now? Isn’t it a little late for that?”

He shook his head, his hair tickling her forehead. “How about we agree, no talk of Ms. Frizzle or the bus or anyone else in the class while we’re fucking?” He rocked his hips just a tiny bit.

D.A. nodded her agreement, her fingers digging into the muscles of his ass. “Fine, Fine! Just get to it!”

He tisked, even as he leaned forward to drag his lips down her neck. “That was rude. Ask me nicely.”

She growled and bent her leg until she could kick his side with her heel. “Please, Carlos,” she breathed. “Please fuck me.”

She was rewarded with a nip on the delicate skin just beneath her ear. “Such a good girl,” Carlos said before acquiescing.

***

The sky was starting to lighten when D.A. finally pulled herself out of Carlos’s slumbering death grip and stumbled into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She searched for the glasses in the dark, careful not to slam the cabinet doors.

Something whirred behind her, followed by a throat clearing. D.A. turned slowly to find Mikey watching her, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Hi,” she said, her face flushing. She tugged at the hem of her borrowed tee-shirt. “Uh, I was just…looking for a drinking glass.”

Mikey’s expression remained stoney as he pointed to a lower cabinet she hadn’t thought to try yet. “In there. We can’t use the upper cabinets for much because…” He gestured at his wheel chair. “Know what I’m saying?”

“Right,” D.A. smiled gratefully. “Sorry, my brain doesn’t work so well this early in the morning.”

“Uh-huh,” Mikey glared knowingly. “It probably doesn’t help to stay up most of the night screaming your head off either.”

Her hand tightened around her newly acquired glass, her cheeks heating. She struggled to reconcile the cute little Mikey she’d know all those years ago with the bitter, grumpy man in front of her. His features were so similar to Carlos’ but she didn’t think she’d ever seen his brother look so sour. “I’m sorry,” she said, setting the glass down on the counter. She could wait a little longer for a drink of water. “I’ll get out of your way.”

She slid past him on her way out of the kitchen, careful to keep as much distance between them as possible. 

Mikey sighed and punched the bridge of his nose. “Did Carlos show you the draft proposal for your grandmother’s house yet?”

D.A. shook her head. “The what?”

With a long suffering sigh, he maneuvered back into the open living room and retrieved a pile of papers from the coffee table. He returned to the table-height breakfast bar and plopped them down on the counter. “Normally we do the assessment for free and the work at a generously discounted rate,” Mikey said without bothering to look up at her. “Some special cases we do for free if it’s obvious they can’t afford it.”

She slid carefully into a chair next to him, conscious of the tee-shirt threatening to ride up her thighs. “That’s really sweet of you,” she said truthfully. There was no denying that the Ramon brothers had heart, despite how grumpy Mikey looked at the moment.

He grunted and sifted through the papers until he found one that was an itemized list marked all over with pencil. “Your grandmother’s house will need extensive work. She doesn’t qualify for our need based services, so this is what we’re looking at.” He circled a number that made D.A.‘s head spin.

She swallowed. “That’s a lot of money.”

Mikey nodded and slouched in his seat. “And Carlos wants it done—for free— in time for Christmas.”

She whistled. No wonder Mikey was pissed. “That’s not necessary,” she assured him. “I’ll talk to Carlos about it. But…” D.A. worried her lip with her teeth. “But maybe there’s something we can do before Christmas?” She couldn’t leave Grammy alone in the hospital over the holiday. That would be cruel.

Mikey studied her closely, the muscles in his cheek tensing. “Listen, D.A., do you know why I’m in this business? When I can’t even do any of the actual labor?”

“Your expertise,” she acknowledged.

“Right. And that comes from years of being in this chair. I know what it’s like to live in an environment that wasn’t designed for you. I know from experience how frustrating that is.” He gripped the wheels of his chair and frowned down at the plans before them. “It’s worse for the elderly who are just starting out in a wheelchair after a lifetime of being able bodied. There’s a lot for you to consider now. Will she have a caretaker or will she be living alone? Is her memory good enough that she won’t accidentally leave the oven on for days at a time? Can she lift herself into a tub or onto a shower stool? How many more years do you think she’ll be living in the home? You need to answer all that before you choose what accommodations she’ll need a la carte.”

They were all very reasonable questions, but she tamped down the urge to argue with him. “I’ll think about it,” she said instead. “Can I take this with me?” She’d need to call her parents and uncles before promising anything, prompting another round of Nursing home vs. No Nursing home arguments, just in time for the holidays.

At Mikey’s nod, she picked the paper up and folded it in half. “I’ll get a finished bid to you in the next day or so,” he told her before wheeling backwards and spinning back towards his bedroom. When she heard his door click shut, she dropped her head onto the pile of papers on the counter. 

She didn’t know how long she stayed like that until two warm hands rested on her shoulders. She heard Carlos swear as he looked at the mess in front of her.

“Damnit, Mikey,” he sighed. 

“Don’t get mad at him,” she said, covering his hands with her own and leaning back against him. “And don’t give me any special treatment just because we, you know…” 

“But you are special,” Carlos murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple.

“Carlos…” She couldn’t help the exasperated tone to her voice. “I’m serious. Don’t throw away money and your relationship with your brother just for a fling.”

Behind her, Carlos’s body tensed. She squirmed, needing to see his face, but he held her in place so she couldn’t turn around. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he finally relaxed his grip on her shoulders and stepped away, leaving her back cold. “Ok,” he said, his tone curiously flat. “I won’t.”

D.A. released the breath she’d been holding. He’d agreed with her, she should be happy. So why did it feel like she’d lost?

Chapter Text

It was almost 8:30 when she finally arrived at the hospital after a quick stop to shower and change at Grammy’s house. In the elevator, she paused before hitting the button for the third floor. The cafeteria was one floor down in the basement. Would Janet still be there? 

What the hell did Janet want to talk about anyway? Carlos? D.A. didn’t think she’d ever be ready to discuss whatever she and Carlos were doing with his ex-freaking-fiancée. Shaking her head, she pressed the button for the third floor. She didn’t owe Janet anything.

Unfortunately, when the doors slid open on her grandmother’s floor, Janet was right there.

The other woman frowned. “You stood me up,” she snapped. Before D.A. could exit, she stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the basement.

D.A. watched the doors close with a resigned sigh. “I never agreed to meet you.”

“Whatever,” Janet rolled her eyes. Her curly red hair was pulled back into a messy bun, the bags under her eyes dark against her pale skin. “It’ll take five minutes.”

“Do I have a choice?”

Janet snorted. “No. Come on.” The doors opened on the nearly deserted cafeteria. “The coffee is shit here, by the way,” she said over her shoulder even as she marched over to the coffee station and began pouring herself a cup. D.A. shook her head no when Janet offered her the carafe.

Coffee in hand, Janet led her to a small two person table on the perimeter of the dining area. Despite being the basement level, there were still windows ringing the room, letting in the harsh winter daylight.

“Your grandmother,” Janet said when they were both seated. “Are you her power of attorney?”

D.A. frowned. “No, my dad is, but he trusts my opinion.”

“Then I hope you trust mine.” Janet took a sip of her drink and grimaced. “She will need round the clock care when she gets out of here. So unless you’re planning to move back here permanently, she’d be better off in a care home.”

D.A. crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “Are you allowed to say this to me?”

“Probably not, but we’re low on social workers on staff at the moment.” Janet narrowed her eyes. “I’m just stating the obvious. Even if Mikey and Carlos get her house all fixed up in time, she can’t live there on her own.”

That sounded uncomfortably like what Mikey had been trying to say just a few hours ago. “So why are you telling me this?”

Janet through up her hands. “Because I like your grandma. And…” Her eyes drifted to the window. From here they could watch all the ankles of the passerby. “I’m thinking of making a career change, maybe go back to school for another specialty. And I could be her live in caregiver if the price is right.”

“Seriously?” D.A.’s eyebrows flew up. 

Janet met her incredulous stare with a glare of her own. “It’s a good offer. Room and board and $1000 a week.”

D.A. didn’t even have anything to drink yet she nearly did a spit take. “Oh is that all?”

“Go price out care homes and then ask me that,” Janet replied crankily. She pushed to her feet. “Let me know what her power of attorney thinks,” she said over her shoulder as she stomped out of the cafeteria.

***

Grammy was dozing again. D.A. settled into the armchair next to the bed and pulled her phone out of her pockets. No new messages via text or SocialMe, but there were plenty of work emails to catch up on. 

Unfortunately, it was hard to focus when her nether regions were still sensitive from a night of incredible sex. D.A. shifted this way and that, the rubber squeaking under her thighs. No matter how much she threw herself into a patent application review for corporeal matter displacement, her mind drifted back to Carlos. More than once, she opened her text messaging ap and hovered over his name.

She could text him. He’d be an excellent distraction from Grammy’s labored snoring. Yes, it was a fling, but they were friends too, right? And that’s what friends did. Her heart beat fast in her chest as she sent a quick, friendly message, then settled back to wait for his response.

Chapter Text

The problem with owning a small business in a small town was that you couldn’t just run a simple errand without running into one of your best friend’s ex wife. In this case, in line at the bank.

Carlos smiled politely as Wanda joined the line behind him, careful to leave a respectable distance between them. He had nothing against Wanda as a person. He’d known her as long as he’d known Arnold and Ralphie. She was kind hearted, if a little bossy, and driven to rescue every lost soul, animal, plant or mineral. At one time that included Arnold, but his friend alone hadn’t been enough for Wanda.

“Hey, Carlos,” she greeted him with a nod. “Is the payroll program down for you too?”

“It’s a day that ends in Y, so yes,” he replied, shaking his head. 

“So true,” she sighed. The line moved, and they shuffled forward. “Did I see your truck at Emmy Hudson’s place? Is she getting work done?”

Carlos fidgeted with the folder of printed timesheets in his hands. “Yes, maybe. As soon as D.A. lets us know what she needs.” 

A flash of surprise flitted through Wanda’s eyes before her face returned to its polite mask. “D.A.? Is she in town?”

Shit. D.A. had changed the subject pretty quickly when Wanda was mentioned at dinner the night before. In elementary school, the two girls had been best friends. What the hell happened there?

If he didn’t answer Wanda, she’d find out from Arnold or Ralphie eventually. “Yeah, she’s here to get her grandmother’s home ready for when she’s released from the hospital,” he told her. And we’re having a “fling” apparently. The word still stung, even hours later. 

A teller opened up and beckoned him forward. “See you later,” he told Wanda as he left the line.

“Tell D.A. I said hi, if you see her.” Wanda waved, her friendly smile noticeably forced.

Carlos tried to put the conversation from his mind while he settled his payroll issue. He almost succeeded too. He returned to his current job site, ready to conduct a final walk through, when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at the screen. 

Hospitals are boring. Keep me company? Virtually, at least?

He rubbed his chest. His immediate instinct was to enthusiastically agree and spend his whole day in D.A.’s company, virtually or otherwise. But he was an adult. She was right; he couldn’t jeopardize his business and everything he and Mikey had built for just a fling. He wouldn’t.

And yet…he pictured D.A. alone in that hospital room with her grandmother, with no one else to talk to. She’d reached out to him for a reason. She needed him. 

Swearing under his breath, he replied: 

Busy for the next hour. Can I bring you lunch later? 

Carlos held his breath while she typed a response. Finally, a little thumbs up emoji appeared on the screen. He slid his phone back into his pocket, and forced himself to focus on his work.

***

“Tell me about Wanda.”

D.A. froze mid-bite. Carlos raised an eyebrow as he waited patiently for a response. It took conscious effort to resume chewing and swallowing so she could say, “What about Wanda?”

Carlos set his sandwich down on the rolling hospital tray they’d wheeled between them. Granny snored on, oblivious to her new visitor. “You act funny whenever someone mentions her. What’s the deal there?”

D.A. took a long, slow sip of her drink. Carlos was more observant than she’d given him credit for and she hated it. She felt like a microorganism squirming under a lens. “We just…grew apart. That’s all,” she answered with a shrug. “It happens.”

“Sure,” Carlos nodded. “Like me and Tim. We hardly ever see each other, we don’t talk much…But I don’t get that guilty look whenever someone asks me about him.” He pointed to her face. “Like that!”

“I’m not guilty!” 

“Uh-huh,” he said, crossing his arms. “Totally normal reaction.”

D.A. pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. She glanced at Grammy to confirm she was still sleeping. “Promise not to tell Arnold?”

Carlos’s expression grew deadly serious. “No. If I think it’s something he needs to hear, I’m telling him.”

“That’s reasonable,” she conceded. D.A. stared at the space above his head as she spoke. “Wanda would come visit me at college and law school, and at first we’d have a good time and catch up…but it always ended with her bitching about Arnold. He wasn’t adventurous enough in bed or how he would never try new things. And at one point I just snapped and asked ‘Then why are you with him?’…Anytime after that, whenever she started to talk about Arnold, I’d just say the same thing. Until we stopped talking altogether.” She shrugged and slouched lower in her seat, still too nervous to meet Carlos’s stare. “She did text me when they separated but like, what am I supposed to say to that? ‘Yay, your marriage failed’? ‘I’m happy for you’? 

Carlos was silent for several seconds. “You know, Arnold genuinely had no idea she was unhappy.”

D.A. sucked in a breath. Carlos squeezed her knee as he continued. “We could see it though,” he told her. “We tried to warn him too, but neither of them wanted to listen.”

“Your friendship remained intact,” she pointed out.

“Well yeah, but…”

She shook her head and finally met his eyes. “I’m not great at distance friendships,” she admitted. “If someone’s not right there in front of me, I don’t remember to do all the things a friend is supposed to do. I didn’t check up on her after the separation, or wish her happy birthday or anything like that. I’m not a good friend at all…and Wanda is exhibit one.”

D.A. rose to her feet and began gathering their lunch trash. Carlos silently took the crumpled wrappers and napkins from her and stuffed them in the fast food bag. When the space was clear, he cleared his throat. 

“So is that a warning?” He asked quietly. “Am I exhibit two?”

Why was her throat so tight? “Maybe? I don’t know. I don’t want you to be,” she whispered.

He rested his forehead against hers so she had no where else to look, nowhere else to hide. “Lucky for you, Dorothy Ann, I am a great friend.”

Chapter Text

“I like him.” Grammy hummed as she swallowed her next bite of peaches. “He’s a sweet boy.”

“Grammy, you don’t even know him,” D.A. replied, her cheeks flushing. She lifted the spoon and waited for her grandmother to open her mouth for more. The rest of the food on her tray sat untouched. 

“He’s sweet on you, I think,” Grammy continued, relaxing back against her pillows. 

D.A. returned the utensil to the tray. “Exactly how much did you hear earlier?”

“Oh to be young and foolish again,” the older woman sighed instead of answering, closing her eyes. “You should out tonight, do all those things young people do at Christmas time. Don’t waste all your time cooped up in here with me.”

“I want to be cooped up in here with you, Grammy,” D.A. smiled. At least here, in this over bright hospital room smelling of antiseptic and canned peaches, she wouldn’t have to face the inevitable. She glanced at her watch. One hour until the family video call. One hour left to pretend everything was going to work out exactly as she’d imagined it.

“Liar,” Grammy replied. “Even I don’t want to be cooped up with me-e-e…” Her last word disappeared into a wet, raspy cough. D.A. leapt to her feet and slid her arm behind her grandmother’s back for support. 

When the coughing fit subsided, Grammy gratefully accepted the tissue D.A. handed her. “See what you’d have to look forward to?” 

D.A. smoothed back the whisks of hair on Grammy’s forehead. “Still worth it,” she said. 

***

She set up her laptop on the dining room table and poured herself a drink from one of the dusty bottles on Grammy’s wine rack. The paper copies of Mikey’s initial estimate were laid out neatly beside her computer. She’d sent scans to her father and uncles earlier, but she wanted to be prepared to reference the originals if needed. She’d spent the last half hour combing through them one last time and taking pictures of each area of concern. D.A. was as ready as she’d ever be.

Her parents were already on the call, talking earnestly with each other, their microphone muted. They were in their temporary recording studio in their rental home at the top of the world, researching their latest project on Polar Night. They’d invited her to join them in the arctic circle for the holiday but D.A. required at least a little bit of sunshine to function. 

When they saw her, her mother’s face warmed and she leaned forward to tap at their keyboard. “Dorothy Ann! How are you doing, baby? Not too lonely in that big house?”

“I’m fine,” D.A. assured her parents. “I’ve mostly been at the hospital visiting Grammy.”

“How is she?” her father asked, his expression somber. He was the eldest of Grammy’s children and most responsible, but bad weather and expensive plane tickets meant he’d been unable to visit his mother since her stroke.

Before D.A. could answer, her uncles joined the chat, one right after the other. Uncle Axle in Costa Rica and Uncle D.D. much closer but still several hours away in his 55+ community in Florida. After everyone had greeted everyone, D.A. took a deep, bracing breath and began.

“As you saw, the work recommended is extensive, and even with it, Grammy will need additional help. I don’t…” Her throat constricted. She worked to push the words out. “I don’t think she can live on her own.”

Everyone spoke at once. 

“So you what, want to put her in a home?”

“When I saw her a few weeks ago, she was fine.”

Her uncles began to bicker. Then, when her father tried to intervene, they both turned their ire to him. D.A. lowered the volume on her speakers and rubbed her temples. They all loved their mother, she had no doubt about that. So why did they all disagree so vehemently with each other?

With one last sigh, D.A. slipped into lawyer mode. “Enough. Everyone be quiet while I list out our options. We will discuss each one with thoughtful consideration; any arguments or personal attacks will be muted. You can feel free to use the chat function but do know that this meeting and all conversations are being recorded. Got it?”

She waited for her uncles and parents to verbally agree before continuing. “Ok, let’s begin. Option one: we update the house and hire an in home caregiver to stay with her. We have some flexibility with what we do to the house but you’ve seen the estimates. One of her current nurses offered to watch her for $1000 a week-“

D.D. cut her off before she could finish. “That’s highway robbery!” he sputtered.

“Is it?” Axle blinked at the screen. “I’m afraid my concept of money is a little skewed. Cost of living here is so very different…hey!” He brightened. “What if she came here to live with me!”

D.A. counted to ten in her head before dignifying that with a response. “I’ll add that to the list of options.” Right after Win the lottery. 

“Keep going, Dorothy Ann,” her dad encouraged.

“Option two,” she said loudly before her uncles could get into again. “She goes into a care home.”

“And then we lose the house,” D.D. muttered, crossing his arms.

“What? Why?” 

Her uncle leaned back in his chair and glared at them all. “Because the care home will take it. They’ll take all her assets. Medicare only kicks in when it’s all gone.”

“I see,” her father spat. “You’re more worried about your inheritance than you are your own mother!” 

They began fighting again. D.A. muted them all, and reveled in the blessed silence. When their mouths stopped moving, she unmuted her microphone only. “Can we continue?”

She waited until all four heads (including her mother’s) nodded before un-muting them all. 

Through the dining room windows, she watched a pair of headlights pull into the driveway. It was too dark to see the make of car or its driver, but she could guess. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, stupidly glad to see Carlos again. To have someone else in her corner who cared about her and not some paltry inheritance. When the doorbell rang, she excused herself and practically ran to let him in.

Chapter Text

D.A. pressed a finger to his lips before he could even say hello. Or kiss her, as he’d initially planned. Instead, he had to settle for nipping the pad of her index finger with his teeth.

“I’m on a call,” she whispered, pulling him in to stand in the front hall. She glanced down at the grocery bags in his hands. “What’s that?”

“Dinner,” he said, lifting them to show her the ingredients he’d brought. “Figured you’d be hungry.”

The somewhat harried expression on her face softened. “You’re always feeding me.”

“Because you forget to do it yourself,” he chastised her, leaning over to give her a peck on the cheek. 

“Dorothy Ann?” A tinny woman’s voice called from the dining room.

D.A. cringed. “I need to get back to that. It’s my family.”

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Carlos nudged her back into the dining room. To avoid being seen, he took the back hall into the outdated kitchen he’d assessed the day before. He wasn’t sure anyone should be cooking in here, never mind a wheelchair-bound recovering stroke victim. But D.A. hadn’t had a home cooked meal in days, so he was willing to risk the potential electrical burns. 

From the dining room, he heard D.A. struggle valiantly to keep the conversation on course. From tone of voice alone, he could tell it wasn’t going well. He and Mikey had witnessed more than their fair share of this very same argument. Every family struggled with this decision, some more than others.

He didn’t like the way it put that tension in D.A.’s smile though. 

Carlos chopped the veggies while the chicken cooked. The kitchen layout was dated and dark, but with a little bit of attention, he could picture a family cooking together in there. It was even spacious enough to dance around in, if one was so inclined. 

Once the rice and broth were added and simmering, he tiptoed to the door separating the kitchen from the living room. 

“No, Uncle D.D.,” she was saying slowly. “I can’t move back here and be Grammy’s full time aide. I have a full time job.”

He eyed her almost empty wine glass. Pushing the door open just a couple inches and wiggled the bottle to get her attention.

D.A. glanced at him. Her expression softened and she tipped her chin down. Moving slowly, careful to stay off camera, he walked to the table and topped off her glass. 

“So? Work from home, that’s what you’re doing now, isn’t it?” A familiar voice said over her computer speakers. D.A.’s uncle D.D.’s radio show had been a fixture in many Walkervillian homes before the station got bought by some media conglomerate. 

“Or you could move back,” another voice countered. “Since you’re retired and all.”

“Or YOU can shove it up-“

D.A. clapped her hands as if she were in an unruly kindergarten classroom. “Ok, so we’ve looked at all the options. Let’s talk again tomorrow when we’ve all had some time to think about it. Ok? Love to you all, bye!” She slapped the laptop shut and groaned. 

Carlos nudged the wine glass closer to her hand. She curled her fingers around the stem with a weary grimace. “Why are they like this?”

He massaged her shoulders until she finally began to relax her muscles. In a friendly way, of course. “Because they’d rather fight than acknowledge the inevitable. Their mom is aging and they’re scared for what that means.”

“Mmhmm,” D.A. murmured, leaning into his touch. “Or they’re all just assholes.”

“Or that,” Carlos agreed, sliding his hands down her arms. The timer on his watch began to vibrate. “Just sit here and relax, I’ll be back in a minute with food.”

She was practically asleep when he returned with two plates of arroz con pollo. “That smells amazing,” she said, lifting her head from the table.

Carlos grinned with satisfaction as she dug into her food. “Glad you like it. It was one of my mom’s go to recipes.”

“It’s delicious,” D.A. told him through a mouthful of rice.

They ate in companionable silence. Between bites, Carlos studied the dining room. It hadn’t been used for any meals for a long time by the looks of it. Which was a shame, as it could easily accommodate at least a dozen people. 

“How did your inspections go?” D.A. asked once she’d finished almost everything on her plate. “All good?”

“For the most part,” Carlos answered, relaxing in his seat. He stretched his legs until his boots touched her socked feet. “Mikey likes to do his own inspections without me. He says I’m ‘too distracting.’ So they’re not good to go until he gets a chance to roll through and sign off on everything.”

“I can’t believe you two still live together. I’ve sworn off living with anyone from my family forever.” She dragged her toes up his leg until she could prop her foot on his thigh. He couldn’t help resting his hand on her ankle, keeping her there. 

“It’s not so bad,” Carlos shrugged. “Since dad died and mom moved back to Venezuela, it’s just us two. We’ve got to stick together.”

“You ever want your own space?” D.A. asked, taking a sip of her wine. 

“Oh yeah, sure,” he shrugged. “Especially when I bring a pretty girl home and he goes all Debbie Downer on her, scaring her away before I can convince her sit on my face again.”

“Carlos!” She snorted, and her hand flew to her nose. “Oh god, wine in nose, wine in nose, ow ow ow!”

He handed her a napkin. She pressed it to her face to dry her watering eyes and blow out any remaining wine. Once she’d regained her composure, she asked, “Does that happen often? Mikey scaring off your dates?”

“No, just with the ones I really really like,” Carlos told her, slipping his fingers under the hem of her leggings, enjoying the soft feel of her skin. 

“So Janet?” She raised her eyebrows.

He shook his head. “He got along with Janet really well, actually. They’re both super early risers.” He frowned. “Honestly that should have been a sign. Oh well.”

When D.A. stood and picked up her plate, Carlos stopped her by wrapping an arm around her waist. “Where are you going?” He asked, pulling her between his knees.

“Clearing plates,” she replied. “I’m ready for desert.”

Carlos skimmed his hands along her sides, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face. “Oh? What do you have for desert?”

She held his stare as she gently placed the plate back on the table. Then she hefted herself onto the table surface and began to wiggle out of her leggings.

Carlos didn’t need any more direction. His eyes feasted on the sight before him as he pulled his chair closer, suddenly famished.

Chapter Text

D.A. was nothing if not fair. After Carlos brought her to more orgasms than she could count, she slid bonelessly to the floor in front of him. His engorged cock bulged in his jeans, eager her attentions.

“Look at you,” he whispered roughly, dragging his thumb along her lower lip. “So pretty.” He licked the last traces of her wetness from his lips. “You don’t have to-“

“I want to,” she interrupted him, carefully lowering his zipper. With gentle, deliberate movements, she pulled his cock free of his pants. She admired it for one, long, appreciative second before leaning forward and dragging her lips along his length. 

“Oh, good girl. Good girl!” Carlos panted as she played. His fingers combed through her hair, tugging gently on her scalp. Then, she swallowed him and he forgot all the words he ever knew.

***

“This carpet is awful.” 

D.A. grunted in agreement, but didn’t move from her spot half on Carlos’ chest, half on the hideous shag carpet in Grammy’s dining room. 

Beneath her, Carlos ran his hand along the scratchy pile. “Who puts shag carpet in a dining room, honestly?”

“Grammy never claimed she had good taste,” D.A. shrugged.

“Fair enough.” Carlos transferred his attention to her bare thigh instead, his hand making long, slow sweeps across her exposed skin. “You know, this probably isn’t the time, but…have you asked your grandmother what she wants?”

“No, why would we do that?” D.A. laughed bitterly. “I doubt they’d even listen to her. But…” She sat up with a languid stretch. “I’ll ask her. Does she want to live at home but with Janet on her ass twenty four seven, or in a nursing home?”

Carlos was happy to stay where he was, enjoying the view, even if his ass did have carpet burn. “Have you ever been to Walkerville Acres? Just to see what it is like?”

D.A. shook her head no. “That does sound like a good idea,” she admitted. “Wait, why are you grinning like that?”

His smile grew even wider. “Because we get to go on a field trip!”

***

At eight o’clock the next morning, D.A. parked her sedan beside Carlos’s truck in the Walkerville Acres parking lot. The building was one long single story, yellow with white trim. When she rounded his bumper, he was waiting for her, a potted poinsettia in the crook of his arm. “Who is that for?” She asked, pointing at the plant.

“You’ll see,” he said cryptically, taking her hand. “Come on.”

They checked in at the office just inside the door. “The usual suspect, Mr. Ramon?” The woman at the desk asked with a friendly smile.

“Of course,” he replied with a wink that made the older woman blush.

D.A. raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t have any other family in town.”

Carlos pulled her along down the quiet corridor. “Define family.” Before she could ask any follow up questions, he began to point out the shared common areas of the home. “Dining room,” he gestured to a bright, airy room filled with round tables. A handful of residents were already eating, with cheerful staff bringing them food and bussing their trays. D.A. could smell bacon and her stomach rumbled. How long would they be here?

Next was the common room lined with books. It even featured a prominent fireplace decorated with stockings for all the residents. Then a small gym, and a nurses station. The rest of the hallway was lined with closed doors, each room home to one or two residents. 

Carlos led her to the farthest door. While he knocked softly, she glanced around for a clue to its occupant. All the other doors had a nameplate with their first initial and last name. But this door just had a tiny whiteboard decorated with doodles of lizards, monkeys, and… “Is that a school bus?”

“Come in!” Sang a voice inside the room. 

D.A.’s eyes widened in surprise as Carlos pushed open the door, revealing a frail woman with dyed red hair practically vibrating with energy. “Ms. Frizzle?!”

Chapter Text

“Professor Valerie Frizzle, PhD at your service,” their old teacher introduced herself, a sparkle in her eye. “And if it isn’t two of my favorite former students, Carlos Ramon and Dorothy Ann Hudson! Come in, come in!”

D.A. followed Carlos inside. The room was supposed to be a double, but only one half appeared to be lived in. Each side had a bed, a recliner, and a bedside table. There were two closets as well. Ms. Frizzle had decorated her side of the room with a collage of magazine pictures, scientific figures, and dozens of photographs of former students in exotic locales. There was even one of D.A. graduating law school in there.

The tiny woman accepted Carlos’s poinsettia with a happy exclamation. “Euphorbia pulcherrima! How lovely, Carlos, thank you.” She motioned to the unoccupied bed. “Please, take a seat. Tell me how you’ve been, it’s been so long!” 

“You just saw me last week,” Carlos chuckled, leaning back on his elbows, his knee gently knocking into D.A.’s.

“I was talking to Dorothy Ann,” Ms. Frizzle said, crossing her eyes at him. 

“Well…I’m in Boston now. I practice copyright and intellectual property law.” She shrugged. “That’s about it, really.”

“Copyright law? How exciting!” The older woman leaned forward, and her entire beehive slipped over her forehead. “Any new and exciting inventions cross your desk?”

“Some,” she answered with a small smile. “But I can’t talk about any of them.”

“Gotcha,” Ms. Frizzle said, tapping her nose. “Are you home for Christmas?” 

D.A. nodded. “My grandmother is…” She took a deep breath. “She’s in the hospital but we’re hoping she will be discharged soon.”

“Oh poor Ellie,” the older woman hummed sympathetically. “Yes, I heard about her stroke. How is she doing?”

D.A. worried at the rough waffle weave of the comforter with her fingers. Carlos’s warm hand covered hers and gave an encouraging squeeze. “I think she’ll need more care than we thought. She’ll probably need to come here…whenever they get an opening.” She’d done her research. Walkerville Acres’s waitlist was several months long. Which meant Grammy would need to spend even longer in the hospital.

Ms. Frizzle’s grin spread over her wrinkled face. “Oh I can help with that.” She gestured to the bed Carlos and D.A. sat on. “I happen to know of an open bed.”

Carlos’s breath tickled her cheek as he leaned closer to her. “The Frizz has an issue with keeping roommates.”

“Too many late night noises and electrical fires,” Ms. Frizzle supplied, waggling her eyebrows. 

“All you have to do is put that your grandmother is willing to room with Ms. Frizzle on her application and she’s in like that.” Carlos snapped his fingers, and both he and Ms. Frizzle chuckled.

“And since I like Ellie, I’ll even turn my lights off at a reasonable hour.”

D.A. swallowed down the lump that rose in her throat. “That is so…thank you.” She cleared her throat. “I need to talk to her first. And my dad. But…thank you.” She squeezed Carlos’s hand in return. She glanced up at him to find he was watching her with a soft look in his warm dark eyes. A look that simultaneously made her feel light as air and made her stomach sink. A look that told her returning to her life in Boston was going to be more painful than she’d anticipated…for them both.

Chapter Text

Once again, Janet was waiting for her when the elevator doors opened. Her already pinched expression darkened. “What took you so long?” She stepped onto the elevator as D.A. exited, her shoulder knocking into hers. She scowled and jabbed at the button for the first floor. “You could have just said no, you know,” Janet snapped as the doors started to close.

“Huh?” D.A. frowned. “But we haven’t even—“ The doors slid shut before she could finish. She blinked several times. Janet was a difficult personality, but never irrational. The heavy feeling in her gut swelled, and she forced herself to take several deep breaths before continuing on towards Grammy’s room.

She recognized that smooth, booming voice from the corridor. Irritation flashed through her hot and bright as she slipped past the privacy curtain. “What are you doing here?”

Her uncle D.D. leaned back from Grammy’s bedside. He crossed his arms over his wide chest and gave him the fake smile that made him born for radio. “Hey now, is that any way to greet family?” 

“You were in Florida last night.”

“It’s Christmas, isn’t it? And maybe after your report, I wanted to come and see how my mother is doing for myself.”

D.A. rolled her eyes. He hadn’t made any effort to come visit when she’d had her stroke two months ago, relying on reports from her dad and herself up till now. 

On the bed, Grammy stirred. Her frail hand patted her uncle’s forearm. “Look who’s here!” She smiled up at her son. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

D.D. clasped his own meaty hands around his mother’s. “That’d ruin the surprise,” he practically yelled in her ear. 

D.A. skirted around her uncle to settle on the vinyl couch by the window. Her uncle ignored her as she pulled her phone from her pocket and texted her father.

She didn’t get an answer right away, but then again, it was late in Greenland. 

“What did you say to Janet?” D.A. asked, when her uncle finally paused for breath. “She looked pretty upset when I got here.”

D.D. didn’t bother turning to face her as he shrugged. “I just told her how unprofessional it was to beg for a job from her vulnerable patients’ families. Wouldn’t you agree, Mom?”

Grammy furrowed her brow. “Who?”

“That redhead, your nurse,” he answered with a snort. “The uppity one.”

“Hey!” D.A. didn’t know why she was defending Janet. Perhaps because she’d heard more than her fair share of that tone from the partners at work. 

Even Grammy seemed to take exception to his tone. “Janet is very capable,” she said. “She takes good care of me.”

“Nothing beats family though, does it?” He continued to speak at volume eleven right into Grammy’s ear. 

Grammy winced, and D.A. couldn’t tell if it was from the volume or the idea of her sons giving her a sponge bath. 

“Carlos brought me to visit Walkerville Acres this morning.” D.A. said, leaning so she could see around D.D.’s solid bulk. “And you’ll never guess who —“

“And she’ll never have to,” D.D. interrupted. “No mother of mine is going into a nursing home.”

“What?” Grammy attempted to push herself higher on the bed and failed. D.D. didn’t seem to notice.

“Don’t worry, Mom, I won’t let it happen.”

D.A. growled in frustration. “Maybe you should let her speak for herself.”

“And maybe you should—“ D.D. thankfully stopped as footsteps rapidly approached and the curtain was pulled back. 

“Mom!” Her uncle Axle swept into the room, his teeth chattering in his light raincoat. Apparently he’d forgotten how cold Walkerville winters could get during his time in the tropics. 

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and that sinking feeling returned. D.A. pulled it out and glanced at the screen, confirming the worst.

Just landed. Will be there in 2hrs. Don’t let them do anything stupid.

Her parents always did have unrealistic expectations for her.

Chapter Text

Carlos checked his phone again. He’d thought for sure D.A. would have texted him by now. He’d sent her a message a few hours ago, just a silly meme he thought she’d like, and she’d left him on read. 

Across the drafting table, Mikey sighed. “Stop slacking,” he said without looking up from the blueprints in front of him. 

“I’m not slacking, I’m just…checking the time.” Carlos tried to focus on the receipts in front of him as he entered them into the accounting software. 

“You’re going to scare her away with your smothering,” his brother said unhelpfully. “Just like you did with Janet.”

“I am not smothering and that is not what happened with Janet.” He placed his phone beside his computer so he could see messages as soon as they came in.

Mikey snorted. “Just admit that you’re a needy bitch.”

“Well, fuck you too, little brother,” Carlos retorted. He just liked knowing the people he cared about were ok. Was that a crime?

“You pour all your heart and soul into people who aren’t emotionally mature enough to do the same and then end up hurt and alone because you never learned to take care of yourself first,” Mikey continued. “Likely due to the parentification that happened at a young age because of your disabled brother.”

Carlos frowned, his phone almost entirely forgotten. “Exactly how much therapy have you had?”

Mikey grinned cheekily, transforming his face from the grumpy asshole to boyish instigator. “So much therapy.”

“Can I get their number?”

***

She was so close to leaving Walkerville in the rear view…and then the glass light blinked on. D.A. grudging pulled into the last gas station before the interstate. 

She stepped out of the car as a gust of wind blasted through her coat and whipped her hair around her head. She hadn’t bothered pulling it back or zipping her jacket; she’d only been focused on getting as far away from her asshole relatives as possible. As it turned out, none of them actually trusted her opinion or her research. They’d just needed her as a stand in at Grammy’s bedside, nothing more.

She blinked back tears as she slotted the pump nozzle into her gas tank.

“D.A., is that you?”

D.A. jumped at the soft voice behind her. She turned her head to find Wanda at the next pump, watching her with a concerned expression. Despite the wind, her black hair was neat, not even a strand out of place. 

“Oh, hey Wanda,” she said weakly, her tone sounding insincere to her own ears.

“Carlos mentioned you were in town. We should get together.” Wanda’s smile was hopeful. “Maybe get dinner or a drink or something.”

D.A. swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise in her throat. “I’m heading back to Boston,” she replied apologetically. “But maybe next time I’m in town.”

Wanda’s smile remained pasted on her face, but her eyes dimmed. “Oh. Okay. Maybe next time then. Do you still have my number?”

“Uh-huh,” D.A. nodded, grateful to feel the pump click. She placed the nozzle back in its cradle and gave her old friend a small wave. “Merry Christmas,” she called as she slid back into her car.

She shut the door before she could hear Wanda’s reply.

***

When he didn’t hear anything from D.A., Carlos resigned himself to an evening at Tennelli’s with Ralphie and Arnold. The restaurant was busier than usual with at least half a dozen Christmas parties filling the space. He and Arnold had parked themselves at the corner of the bar to watch the revelers with similarly glum expressions.

“I’ll never understand Christmas,” Arnold sighed into his beer. “Wanda tried to explain it to me but it just seems like a massive waste of money.”

“Sometimes people just like an excuse to spend a massive amount of money to spoil the people they love,” Carlos replied before taking a swig of his own drink. “Nothing wrong with that.”

Arnold frowned. “I’d rather they just put their love into action the rest of the year. If I love someone, I don’t need their gifts, I just need them.”

Carlos nodded and clinked his drink against his friend’s. “Fair enough.” 

They brooded in silence a few more minutes before Arnold elbowed him and jerked his chin towards a dark corner of the restaurant. “What’s that about?”

Carlos twisted on his barstool to see what had caught his friend’s attention. “No way.”

Janet and Mikey sat at a table for two, her seat pulled close to his wheelchair so she could hear him better. “My brother and my ex-fiancée?” His eyebrows shot up. But the more he thought about it… “Good for them.”

“Really? I’d think you’d be—“ Arnold’s voice trailed off as another person joined them at the bar. “Wanda,” he greeted his ex-wife cordially.

Carlos wasn’t fooled. He knew that polite tone was masking a world of lovesick hurt and devotion.

He fooled Wanda though. “Arnold,” she replied, just as coolly before turning her attention back to Carlos. “I was wondering if you had D.A.’s number. I saw her on her way out of town and she said she still had mine but I realized she might have changed hers.”

Carlos set his drink down on the bar with a thud. “Wait, out of town? Where was she going?”

Wanda stepped backwards, and Arnold steadied her before she tripped. “Back to Boston?” she answered, her voice wavering under his hard stare. “She didn’t tell you?”

Carlos’s hands shook as he signaled the bar tender for his tab. He didn’t bother to answer Wanda or Arnold’s questions. He had to get out of there before the pressure building in his chest exploded outward. 

He made it as far as the parking lot before pulling out his phone. He’d thought he was giving her space by not calling or texting as much as he’d wanted. Now he knew he’d just given her time to run away.

D.A. answered in the fourth ring. “Were you planning on telling me?” He asked before she could say anything. “What the hell, Dorothy Ann?”

“Carlos,” she said, her voice weary. Even now he wanted to go to her, make sure she ate dinner and got the rest she so desperately needed but wouldn’t take. He clenched his free hand into a fist as she continued. “You knew I wasn’t staying. That it was only a…a…”

“A fling, yes, I recall,” he said coldly. “But I thought we at least had friendship on our side. And friends don’t skip town without telling each other.”

“Im a bad friend, remember?” She laughed bitterly. “Listen, I have to go.”

“What happened, D.A.?” he asked, desperate to keep her on the line. “What can I do to help?”

She was quiet for several seconds. So quiet he worried she had hung up. Then finally she replied. “You‘ve been amazing. More than amazing. But there’s nothing you can do about my family being…who they are. Or me being who I am.” Her voice grew thick. 

He felt a lump rise in his own throat. “I’m your friend, D.A.. I care about you, despite who you think you are.” Carlos took a deep, bracing breath of cold night air. “Or how far away. You got that?”

He listened to her breathing on the other end of the line. He knew what he wanted to hear…and that he wouldn’t get it. It didn’t make her whispered “Sorry,” and disconnection hurt any less.

Chapter Text

Carlos hoped Ralphie’s latest addition to his Feast of the Seven Fishes wouldn’t stick. He wasn’t a huge fan of karaoke in the best of times, nevermind when he was nursing a heaping dose of Christmas Eve heartache. 

“I hate this,” Arnold stated as a distant Tenelli cousin warbled through Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas. “I should have stayed home today.”

“Don’t you leave me alone,” Carlos warned, grabbing Arnold’s sleeve and forcing him back in his seat. His friend complied with a heavy sigh. He’d been a surprisingly helpful shoulder to lean on these past few days, and Carlos was grateful for his presence. Especially as Ralphie was barely around in the days leading up to Christmas.

There was a commotion at the door, and they watched dispassionately as Jyoti Kaur, famous tech entrepreneur and former classmate swept into the room. She searched the room with laser focus before screaming “Ralphie!” and running and jumping into their friend’s arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. She placed an enthusiastic kiss on their friend’s mouth…and Ralphie enthusiastically returned it.

Arnold and Carlos looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. That was new. But before they could speculate further, Arnold was off his barstool and retreating towards the kitchen. “I have to go,” he said abruptly. “Merry Christmas or whatever.”

Carlos twisted to see what had spooked him, only to see Wanda with another woman, holding hands and laughing over glasses of wine. For fuck’s sake, did everyone have to be so damn happy and in love? He’d barely even been able to sleep the past few nights with the sounds Mikey and Janet were making through the walls. 

He’d give it another twenty minutes and then he’d go home to mope. 

Someone slid into the seat Arnold had just vacated. “At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May’s new-fangled mirth,” a familiar voice sighed.

Carlos twisted in his seat and smiled despite himself. “Not a fan of the holidays, Ms. Frizzle?” 

His old teacher, Fiona Frizzle—and sister to Professor Valerie Frizzle PhD— winked up at him. “Oh I love them. So much…magic…in the air, wouldn’t you say?” She winked and took a sip from a ridiculously over large margarita glass with many colorful umbrellas. “Valerie tells me you brought Dorothy Ann Hudson to visit her. She thought she’d be getting a new roommate soon.”

Carlos’s expression shuttered. “Yeah well, D.A.’s family had apparently disagreed with that idea.” In fact, from what he’d heard from Mikey, they were still in her grandmother’s hospital bickering while the poor old woman slipped a little bit farther away every day. 

Miss Frizzle tisked and took a deep sip from her drink. “Poor Ellie. And poor D.A.”

“Yeah,” Carlos sighed. And poor me, he wanted to finish. But there were somethings you didn’t share with your former elementary school teacher. “Do you see that?” He gestured to where Jyoti still clung to Ralphie, jabbering excitedly to the growing crowd. And his friend perfectly comfortable to keep holding her aloft.

“Hmm,” Miss Frizzle hummed. “So I guess she got the second prototype up and working.” At Carlos’s confused expression, she leaned closer until her orange hair brushed his nose. “She was in London an hour ago.”

“What? How?”

The older woman winked and pulled a palm sized device out of her skirt pocket. Carlos glanced down warily. The skirt was patterned in hearts and what looked suspiciously like Star Gates. “Instantaneous Matter Displacement,” she whispered. “Just a little something Jyoti has been working on…with my assistance of course.”

She turned the device over in her hands and pointed to a small screen, filled with a string of numbers. “You input the coordinates here and so long as there’s a receiver on the other end, poof! You get there within minutes.”

Carlos’s eyes widened. “Seriously? Is she going to go public with it?” A device like that would change everything. Distance would be a thing of the past.

“She’s working on it. It’s going through the patent process first. In fact, I think the receiver for this prototype lives in her patent attorney’s office.” Miss Frizzle slid off her bar stool and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s brilliant, isn’t it? This tiny little device is going to change a lot of lives.”

With another pat, she turned and walked away…leaving the prototype on the bar. Carlos twisted to call her back but stopped. 

Had she said patent attorney?

He reached for the device and ran his finger over the controls. It was an intuitive design. Without a manual, he knew exactly what button to push to get him to…

Carlos glanced around the room. No one was looking. Take chances, he thought and pressed the button.

Chapter Text

Where else would she be on Christmas Eve after swearing off her entire family and leaving her lover behind? D.A.’s office was on the tenth floor, with a view of Boston Harbor. The rest of the building was dark, as anyone with any sense was home with their loved ones. 

She rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on the application in front of her. The Naniben Company account was a big one; one she couldn’t afford to fuck up. But the research and physics behind their latest invention made her brain hurt. 

D.A. glared at the little device on her desk. The company had given her a prototype receiver to help her with the patent application. She’d been using it as a very technologically advanced paperweight for the last six months. 

Suddenly, it stated to vibrate. D.A. jumped away just in time. A large male body sprawled across her desk, crushing her papers and sending her monitor crashing to the floor.

She stared blankly until her mind had time to catch up to her eyes. “Carlos?” 

The man on her desk groaned, and then laughed, that beautiful full laugh that warned her deep in her core. “Oh my god,” he breathed, pushing himself to a sit and swinging his legs over the edge. “Oh thank god. I was a little worried I’d land in some stranger’s lap.”

D.A. laughed. Or sobbed, she wasn’t quite sure. “What are you…How are you…”

“I’ve been better, honestly,” he said, ignoring what she’d actually meant. He stood and walked to her, running his hands up her arms, across her shoulders, until he cupped her face in his work-roughened hands. He looked like he wanted to say something further but then nothing came out.

D.A. cupped his hands with her own. He was solid. He was here when by all accounts he should be at Ralphie’s feast of the seven fishes. 

…Where she should be. With him.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped when he leaned forward to kiss her. He started to pull back but she held him in place. “I’m so sorry I left town like that. I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to…I was just…I couldn’t be there…” Much to her embarrassment, fat, salty tears began to roll down her cheeks. Carlos moved his thumbs to wipe them away before they fell from her cheeks. D.A. couldn’t restrain herself any longer. She pulled him to her, closing the short distance between them, and kissed him. 

He let her push him back against her desk, and then she climbed on his lap, straddling him with her knees. In this position, she looked over him, staring down into his handsome face. She stroked the dark hair back from his forehead. “I want you. I want to try this.”

“Sexy boss and hapless intern?” He asked, waggling his eyes at her. Always joking because he didn’t know the right words to say to get what he wanted. 

And damnit, he made her laugh. “Shut up, and just take home. I promised Ralphie I’d try to make his feast.”

“Uh-uh,” Carlos said, nuzzling her neck right below the ear. “Trust me, he hasn’t noticed.” He bit her skin lightly and she shivered. “I want this too,” he whispered against her sensitized skin.

Still, the old self doubt lurked, always present even after she’d made her decision. “Think we can make it work? Even though I’m shit with long distance?”

Carlos pulled back so he could meet her worried stare. “I’m willing to take that chance,” he said solemnly and more serious than she’d ever known him to be. 

D.A. inhaled slowly, taking in the scent of him, the feel of his body against hers. She admitted what she’d been denying to herself for weeks now: she loved him. She needed him. She need to take care of him before he burned himself out taking care of everyone else. 

She didn’t want to give this up ever again. She wanted to take that chance too. “Then let’s do it,” she said, taking a leap and letting him catch her.