Even when Brody had landed himself in jail for punching a cop in the face, he hadn’t exhibited as high a level of regret as he was now. As soon as his mother had caught onto the fact that he was ‘dating’ Hunter – although in Mavis Solo’s eyes, the relationship was genuine as ever – she had wasted no time in scuffing the back of her son’s head and demanding that he invite Hunter over for Sunday dinner. Brody refused to miss Sunday dinner with his family, but the thought of dragging Donoghue along and pretending they were a happy couple almost put him off the idea of his mother’s roast and mash.
Still, he’d never been able to deny his mom anything which was why he’d somehow managed to convince Hunter to make the tedious train journey to Queens, all the while commenting that it was about time she ‘saw how the other half lived’. He’d nearly fell off his seat laughing when she was forced to acknowledge that the suspicious looking ball of fur at the other end of the carriage was indeed a starved rat.
However, when they made their way along the sidewalk towards Brody’s childhood home, the man began to feel self-conscious. He found himself pointing out the chapel where he’d made his First Communion, and the old bakery he went to every day after school that was still in business, even though he doubted Hunter would be interested in hearing any of that. When they eventually arrived at the delipidated brownstone he’d grown up in, his nimble fingers had unravelled no less than six threads from the hem of his sweater.
“Come on,” he jerked his head, bounding up the steps and waiting for Hunter to join him on the stoop before he rang the doorbell. Normally, he would have waltzed right in but Brody wanted to delay the inevitable for as long as possible, suddenly unsure if he would be able to keep his cover when surrounded by the people who knew him better than anyone else: his family.
It was too late to back out when a figure appeared behind the frosted glass pane of the front door, the light from the hallway casting a shadow on the petite figure and Brody knew who it was even before the door swung open to reveal the sight of his tiny mom. Mavis immediately beamed up at her son and, small as she was, she was strong enough to yank him down by the collar and pepper his face with kisses.
“Mom,” he laughed, wrinkling his nose and stumbling to the side when she eventually pushed him away to get a look at Hunter.
“So this is the lass m’Brody’s been hidin’ from me,” Mavis smiled sweetly at Hunter, immediately bouncing forward in that sprightly way of hers to bestow a motherly hug on the blonde. Brody didn’t fight the slight upturn of his lips.
“Mom, this is Hunter,” Brody supplied unnecessarily as his mother was already wrapping her arm around the shoulders of the taller woman and pulling her indoors. Brody looked up at the cracked ceiling where the bare lightbulb flickered as it always did, and he heard his mom trying to help Hunter navigate her way through the many pairs of shoes scattered across the hallway, all different sizes and styles. The hallway mirror still chipped, the edges of the rug singed ever since Brody and Niall had accidentally started a fire there when they were younger, and it was so different than the houses he figured Hunter would be accustomed to. But Brody never once thought to be embarrassed and an easy grin slipped onto his face when he realised how good it was to be home.
The grin was wiped away by a look of pain when a heavy force barrelled into his stomach, knocking the breath from him. Glancing down, he spotted his niece and nephew throwing their arms around his torso and excitedly crying his name.
“Hey guys!” he laughed, ruffling their hair before searching for Hunter.
“These are Niall’s kids, Adie and Séan,” he explained, pointing to the girl and then to her little brother who was sat on top of Brody’s foot after attaching himself firmly to his uncle’s leg.
“Let yerself in, Hunter, an’ I’ll get ye somethin’ t’drink,” Mavis piped up, leaving Brody to awkwardly reach over Adie’s head in search of Hunter’s hand. Grabbing it, he tugged her along after him, his movement restricted by the two children determinedly clinging onto him like a pair of stubborn octopuses.
“Get ready,” he warned Hunter as he himself prepared his nerves for the ruckus ready to meet them in the living room.
In the eyes of Hunter Donoghue, if there was one, absolutely solid, foolproof excuse for being late, it was due to the fact you were fabulously dressed. And Hunter liked to think she was, thank you very much. Despite the fact she’d managed to close the ironing board on her hand several times, trapping her fingers in the process, and the small matter of a growing pile of clothes at the end of her bed, Hunter liked to think she was dressed impeccably. By the time she’d stepped out of the front door, she was clad head to toe in couture. Well, the jeans were Topshop, but still.
Unfortunately, the hours Hunter had put in painstakingly curling her lashes, donning her boots and twisting her blonde tresses into a plait were absolutely wasted on Brody Solo. He’d simply looked frustrated when she’d tumbled into the Messina lobby in her heels, late as ever. She suspected her punishment for her lateness would come in the form of endless taunts and jibes on the way to Brody’s Mom’s house, but instead, he simply informed her they were going to be taking the train.
Hunter had let pitiful, plaintive comments steal from her mouth all the way there, she and Brody dutifully keeping up their back and forth of ‘spoiled princess’ and ‘smug know it all’. Still, Hunter had to admit, her heart wasn’t quite in it tonight. Instead, she fingered the ends of her plait nervously, wondering just how to behave in front of her pretend-boyfriend’s real family, and scared that perhaps they would dislike her. It wasn’t an unfair assumption, given that Brody didn’t even really like her. Hunter had been home to meet the parents with almost every boyfriend she dated. She didn’t quite do short term, and after all, Hunter Donoghue was exactly the kind of girl men wanted to take home to their Mothers. She was pretty, polite, could keep up a coherent stream of intelligent conversation, and most importantly, knew how to bolster the ego of whatever man she was dating. Mothers did love to hear about what a good job they’d done raising their sons. Still, somehow Hunter doubted Brody’s Mom would be anything like the prim and proper socialites she’d met in the past. Hunter didn’t quite know how to deal with someone she might have to be real with.
The blonde kept very close to Brody as they walked through the unfamiliar neighbourhood (and not just because a jacket didn’t go with this outfit). Not feeling much up to talking for once, she instead listened silently as Brody pointed out his home comforts, the places where he’d visited as a teenager. It was odd, Hunter had always envisioned Brody as though he were born in the middle of a riot. And yet, it was easy to picture him here. Laughing with his schoolmates, tie loosened. Hunter silently noted down each and every place, impressed Brody had actually listened to her for once. If they were to pretend to be a real couple, she ought to know these things. She could practically picture herself taking his Mother by the arm, leaning close and telling her excitedly that Brody had shown her this and that, shooting fond looks at him all the while.
As per his instruction, Hunter slowly clambered up the steps in her boots, taking them one at a time in her teetering heels. She was half tempted to reach for his hand, insisting he kept her steady, but her pride got the better of her. She’d only just reached the top of the stairs when the door swung open, revealing who Hunter assumed to be Brody’s Mother. Her heart surged with warmth at the sight of the woman tugging Brody down, the Mother and son laughing sweetly as they embraced. Until quickly, the attention was turned on her.
“Hell- oh!” she exclaimed, surprised to be pulled into a hug so quickly. I mean, of course the woman wanted to hug her. She was supposed to be the girl who was making Brody happy. Every Mother wanted that. Hunter noted the passing feeling of guilt, right before thinking how this is how it must feel to be hugged by your Mother.
Hunter turned her head quickly, catching sight of Brody as she was swept into the hallway, an arm tightly wrapped around her shoulders. A difficult feat, Hunter imagined, given that she was already tiny and Hunter was in heels. Resisting the urge to squat, Hunter nodded amicably as she moved to unzip her shoes, toeing them off and leaving her standing in her white, frilled socks in the home of one Brody Solo.
“You have a lovely home.” Hunter noted, the corners of her mouth turning upward. Of course, Hunter probably wouldn’t have lived there now in a million years. She was accustomed to her apartment, which was mostly in working order. But when she was growing up? She supposed she would have liked it there. A place with a bit of personality, where she and her sisters could run free, not like the show home she’d grown up in. Hunter found herself peering around at the bits and bats that made up the household, and quietly noted to herself that in it’s own way, it was lovely.
At the sound of a commotion behind her, she quickly spun, only to see two small children run directly at Brody. Her face lit up immediately at the sight of them, clamouring at Brody in their simple and easy way, elated to get his attention. Her heart clenched as she watched them cling to the man, letting out high musical laughs. Hunter suspected they wouldn’t be letting go of their Uncle any time soon.
“Hello.” Hunter greeted, offering a shy little waggle of her fingers. She knew she wouldn’t be getting their attention any time soon, however, and instead turned back to his Mom to offer her a smile.
“Thank you so much.” She nodded, unknowingly sliding her hand into Brody’s own. She stifled a laugh at the sight of the two children, still attached to their uncle, and squeezed Brody’s hand.
“Um, for what, exactly?” she questioned, her voice a nervous whisper against Brody’s ear.
