We traded in our tickets to Greece for a standby to Boston. I've never been there before. Mickey says he hasn't been back in years. Between calls and texts from his sister, we know his mother had a shattered limb and bad head injury. They scheduled her for surgery in three hours. We would land hours after she got out.

His hand squeezes into a fist on top of his bouncing knee. Every inch of my body hurts, my heart pounds nervously in my chest as I watch him. My version of this nightmare was in the backseat of Vick and Jerry's car, crying onto my pregnant belly for hours, only to arrive in enough time to identify my father's body. 

I would give anything to keep him from feeling that pain. 

"She's going to be fine," I say to him. He looks over at me, his face tense with worry. "Keep telling yourself that."

He nods, but his knee continues to bounce absentmindedly. "She has a ... thing where putting her under can paralyze her lungs. It has some long name."

"Pseudocholinesterase deficiency?" I ask him. He looks at me surprised. The name isn't really important, it's the fact that it could make surgery with brain swelling a lot more touch and go. I won't tell him about that. "That's genetic, Mickey. Do you have it?"

"No. My siblings do though."

"Okay." I place my hand in his. He weaves his fingers through mine and grips it tight. "She's going to be fine," I remind him.

"She's going to be fine."

♡♡♡

It's dark by the time we make it to hospital. The emergency wing is old and unrenovated, the smell of bleach overpowering when we approach the desk in ICU. "Hi," Mickey greets the woman sitting there. "My mom is supposed to be here. I don't know which room."

I watch the blush appear on her cheeks as she hesitates. "Can you give me a last name?"

"Valentino."

She smiles and her cheeks get rosier. She looks down at the screen and bites her lip to pin her smile. "Room 1341. Just take a right and the end of that hall," she points.

"Thank you." 

He holds his hand out to me, and I take it. I keep up with his hastened pace as we go down the hall and turn, following the increasing room numbers.

"Dickey?" someone says from down the hall. Ahead of us, a man stands against the wall. He's about Mickey's height, but thicker and older. He has fairly generic features, and graying hair. Mickey's pace slows, but we continue to walk over.

"Billy," Mickey says simply.

"Didn't think you'd come," Billy says back. Mickey's mouth twists slightly, but he doesn't respond. The three of us go into the room together.

Inside, a woman stands with two more men near the bed. They all turn to face us, and I get nervous.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" the tallest man says. He looks miffed.

"I came to see Ma," Mickey answers.

"And who the hell told you that was okay?" the third man asks as he starts to saunter over. Billy stops him.

"I did," the woman says. "He has every right to be here, same as you, Joey."

"The fuck he does!" the middle brother says. My skin prickles nervously.

"He's just gonna stress Ma out. She doesn't need this right now," Joey whines.

Mickey ignores them and addresses his sister. "How is she? Did she have any problems in surgery?"

"No," she answers confidently. "They said something about brain swelling but that it's okay now, they're just monitoring her or somethin'." I look at the intracranial pressure and oxygen levels on her monitor, and both look good. Very good. A huge sense of relief washes over me, and I begin to feel lighter. "She's sleepin' right now, but they come in to wake her up every once in a while."

That wasn't a good enough explanation for me. An old-school paper chart hangs from the end of her bed, so I grab it and read.

The brain swelling was normal for a head wound like hers, and had remedied by medication prior to surgery. She was breathing on her own already, so she must have done well with the anesthesia. Her leg would have pins for months, but that much was obvious by looking at her cast.

I look up and catch Mickey's eyes. "She's in good shape," I tell him as I put the chart back. He lets out a relieved breath.

"Dickey?" a voice says.

We all look towards the bed. Mickey's mother's eyes are open. She flexes a hand in his direction.

"Is that my ... Little Dickey?" she asks hoarsely.

Mickeys brow creases as his face splits into a happy grin. "Hi, Ma." He walks to her bedside and pulls over the stool. My heart melts as I watch him smile and stroke the tuft of hair sticking out from the front of the bandages on her head. "It's me. I'm here."

Her smile widens crookedly, her dark brown eyes sparkling like his do. I take that as my cue to step out.

I make my way back out into the hall and lean against the wall near some chairs. I check my phone for missed messages. There are so many. A couple from Jackson checking in on us both, another from Maggie wishing me well, even more from Ailene, Miranda, and Matty. I get to work on texting them back.

"Hey," someone says from next to me. I look over to find one of Mickey's brothers.

"Hey," I say back.

The other two brothers come out of the room, followed by the sister. All of them have the same plain brown hair and eyes,  and slightly overweight frames hidden under generic t-shirts and jeans. Mickey is by far the most attractive member of his family. But considering he was one of the most attractive people alive, that wasn't saying much.

Billy eyes me. "You Dickey's girlfriend?"

"Yes. I'm Penelope." I hold out my hand to shake. He takes it.

"You're attractive," the youngest one, Joey, says. I already hate him. "You ... in the business too?"

I try to suppress my glare. "No, I'm not. I'm a Nurse Practitioner."

"Good," the middle one says.

"I don't know how you deal with all that," Joey pipes up again. "You two have sex?" Really, dude?

I stare at him blankly. "Yeah. Do you?"

Mickey's sister stifles a laugh. "Leave her alone," she says. "You've met Joey and Billy," she points to the brothers in order of height. "This is Tommy," she gestures to the tallest one, "and I'm Beth."

"It's nice to meet you all," I say. "I wish it was under better circumstances."

"Thanks."

"So why are you with him?" Joey says. I glare over at him. "You know what he does, right?" he says is that god-awful accent.

I roll my eyes with a sigh. "Look. I get that you dislike him, you've made that perfectly clear. But I love that man more than I love anything," I tell him. "You want to talk shit about something you know nothing about? I am the wrong bitch. Trust me," I warn him coldly before returning my attention to my phone.

I think I've gotten myself a moment of silence when he starts to laugh. "Ah, I see why you two get along," Joey says. "You're probably as big a sex freak as he is."

I tried. I really fucking tried.

"Oh no! I'm a slut because I use my body the way I want and don't let an overweight prick defile me in missionary once a week?" I ask with scathing sarcasm. I look him up and down and plaster on a fake smile. "I know you want me to think you're the stereotypical bad boy from Boston. But I'm from Texas. You'll have to bring something better than your little knife," I motion to the front of his pants, "to my gun fight, sweetheart."

The other siblings chuckle as I glare at him, daring him to say something else. He doesn't. I return to my messages.

After a moment, Mickey walks out of the room. I breathe easier as I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him into a hug. He presses me to him and I feel the tension leave his shoulders. "How is she?" I ask him.

"She's good," he says happily. I return his smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

"Dickey. We like your girlfriend," Tommy says for the group.

"Great," Mickey says, stroking his hands up and down my back. "I like her too."

"Don't know what she sees in you, but whatever." Joey crosses his arms and looks away as if he hadn't said anything.

Mickey rolls his eyes. "Don't start this shit again, Joey."

"Start what shit again? I'm not the one fuckin' dudes for money."

"I said, don't fucking start!" Mickey's voice booms in the quiet hallway.

"Seriously, you guys!" Beth voices again. "Cut the shit! Ma's recovering."

The two youngest brothers pretend to talk among themselves, conveniently loud enough for everyone to hear. "I don't even know why he's here. Ma is fine."

"Couldn't be bothered to show up for anything else."

"Never does."

"Because you don't want me here," Mickey seethes at them.

"You're right," Joey says. "Leave whenever you feel like, homo."

Mickey lunges for him, but press myself against his chest to stop him. I would love to watch him beat the ever-loving shit out of his bigoted brother, but I can't let him do that. I look him in the eyes as he continues to stare angrily at Joey. "Don't," I say firmly.

"Listen to ya girl, Dickey."

"Shut the fuck up, Tommy!" Mickey yells.

"All of ya shut the fuck up!" someone yells from up the hall.

I turn to find an older man walking towards us. He's tall, overweight, and looks very tired, but has a voice as loud as everyone else's. Mickey's muscles tense under my hands. I look up at him in confusion.

"Leave your brother alone, your ma doesn't need this right now," the man says. I go cold when I realize who he is.

"Yeah, she doesn't need the family disgrace showing his loose, sorry ass back up years later," Tommy says. I brace myself against Mickey's chest as he lunges again.

I look him in the eyes. "Do you need to go?" I ask him.

"Yeah," he says.

"Then let's go." I turn him around, wrapping my arm tightly around him as we walk down the hall to leave.

"Ain't no fancy Hollywood hotels in Southie," Joey yells after us.

Mickey's hand squeezes mine a little too hard, his jaw as tense as his angry expression. I've never seen him this mad. 

When we get outside into the unseasonal cold and make it to the SUV, I pull him to a stop to look at me. "What the hell, Mickey?"

"What?"

"What is wrong with all of you?"

The breath he lets out creates a plume of fog in the frigid air. "It's them. They piss me off all the time just to get a reaction."

"Okay, but it seems like you give them exactly what they want."

"Oh, like you have any idea what it's like, only child." I raise my eyebrows at him. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm still pissed."

"Yeah, I see that," I say as I cross my arms. "But coming from the person that always freaks out when they're mad, you need to calm down. I can't let you get arrested for assault. You have a pilot to shoot when we get back."

Mickey scrubs his hands over his face and leans backwards against the SUV. "You're right," he sighs.

"Yeah, I know." I step closer to him and run my hands against his chest and stomach, feeling the warmth radiating from his tension. "Stop letting them distract you from what's important here, Mickey. Your mom is fine. Better than fine. You get to keep both of your parents today, whether you like it or not."

He looks at me sadly and places his hands at either side of my face. "Baby, I'm so--"

"Nope," I interrupt him. "This isn't about me right now. You have to go back in there, to be there for her. You'll have to take out your frustrations in a different way." I reach down and start to undo his fly.

His hands hover near my shoulders as he looks down in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I reach in and grab him. "You are stressed out and you're making me mad. Either way, you know we're going to end up fucking. Might as well do it now if it'll help you chill the fuck out." I squeeze him in my hand and feel him twitch in response. A grin finally appears on his face. I lean up and kiss his lips just once. "Sound good to you?" He pulls me back to him and hums his assent as he returns my kisses, his cock beginning to swell in my grasp.

He breaks the kiss with a smile, then opens the door to the backseat. I grin devilishly and climb in, my body feeling more than ready for a quick, rough distraction. 

_____

A/N: Kids, don't be homophobic. That shit's fucked up.

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