.lomlhunter:
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.
“She’s pretty!” Adie commented, making Brody’s hand pause on its way to the living room doorknob.
Brody raised an eyebrow at his niece, her unabashed compliment obviously being directed to Hunter, but Brody made a show of peering around the hallway, searching for someone else. When he had no choice but to let his eyes rest on Hunter again, he wrinkled his nose up before exaggeratedly shrugging.
“Eh, she’s alright,” he commented, making his niece and nephew giggle as he shot a smirk towards his ‘girlfriend’. At her question, a grin lit up his own face and he gave her a firm ‘this’ before swinging the door open.
At once, a cacophony of Irish and American accents and the clanking, irregular sound of someone banging the keys of the family piano spilled out into the hallway. Brody tugged on Hunter’s hand, encouraging her to follow him as he awkwardly shuffled into the room with Adie and Séan still stubbornly attached to him. The sight of him caused excited gasps to rise up among the members of his family that ranged from his brothers, to cousins and aunts and uncles that were visiting for St Paddy’s Day.
“Brody’s got a girlfriend!” his youngest cousin called out, practically falling over his light up trainers in order to get a closer look at the prim and proper woman that Brody was pulling into the chaos. Adie clamoured to make introductions herself, balancing on her tiptoes and declaring, “Her name is Hunter.”
Various aunts and uncles called out a hello whilst Niall pushed his way through the overcrowded living room to haul Séan to his feet and greet Hunter himself with a handshake and a cheeky smile that sang of trouble for Brody later. Pulling a face, Brody let go of Hunter’s hand so he could wrap an arm securely around her shoulders instead, pointing out the mangy ginger cat by her feet that she was in danger of tripping over.
“Come on, I want you to meet my Nan,” he told her, propelling her forward and past a tiny congregation of his younger cousins who had struck up a chorus of ‘Hunter and Brody sitting in a tree!’ orchestrated by his youngest brother, Archie. Holding up his forefinger to Hunter in the universal gesture of ‘one second’, he let go of her so he could pounce on Archie instead, swear words spilling from his lips as he grabbed his brother into a headlock and cheerfully yanked the pest’s hood over his eyes, laughing as Archie struggled and swatted at Brody’s stomach.
“Take care of this one,” he instructed Gus, pushing the teenager towards his other brother and meeting his aunt’s cries of ‘careful! careful!’ with an apologetic smile when Archie nearly went tumbling over Sparky, the intellectually-challenged family dog, who was currently walking headfirst into the wall repeatedly.
“And this is my Nan,” Brody proudly told Hunter, curling his arm around the frail shoulders of his favourite elderly woman and pressing a kiss into her thin, white hair. “Nan, this is Hunter.”
His Nan wasted no time in greeting the blonde, clasping Hunter’s hand tightly between both of her own and showering her in compliments that Brody fought to hide an eyeroll at. He knew Donoghue would be preening under any sort of positive comments regarding her bloody hair. The hubbub of the living room only grew louder when the door connecting the living room and the kitchen burst open and in walked Brody’s father, the American of the room who was a head, shoulders and then some taller than his petite wife who hovered in the doorway.
“I heard Brody brought a girl home?” Logan Solo called out, eyes twinkling when they rested on Hunter. At once, Brody slapped his hand to his forehead, knowing this would only bring humiliation for him.
