#half orange

You didn't need a reminder the dinner was tomorrow night (or...tonight? What time was it?) and you made Marcus swear that nothing short of a full nuclear meltdown would tear him away and leave you alone with Anita. 

"And you're sure she's not telepathic?" 

He chuckled, "Unless she's a much better liar than I give her credit for." 

You shook your head, "Super reflexes and strength do not seem like enough to describe that woman." 

He smiled, "You know I always believed she had something…. She knows everyone's strengths. Like right away. Maybe it's just super good intuition. But she can size people up quick." 

"I buy that." You agreed, "I think you both have some weird super-genetic-team-leader thing." 

He snorted, "Sure." 

You slapped his shoulder and the covers slipped down your chest which he didn't mind, "Be serious. You are the only person alive who can wrangle that band of merry morons. You are… it's not just smart, you're smart, but you can see it. See how it'll work. How it needs to work. It's not just your job babe that's you. You got something special." 

He looked at you in the half light and felt incredibly warmed by you-- he didn't understand your confidence in him but he appreciated it. He often felt like he was mostly just lucky. But maybe….maybe there was something to what you were saying. 

But the mention of the team reminded him.

"So wait, change of topic, sort of. Crimson and Lightning?" 

You nodded.

 "Their wedding is next Saturday." 

"It's not canceled, right?" You openly wondered… there had been more than one meltdown. Many threats. You had completely ignored trying to sort through them and just kept forwarding to the head of PR. 

"She only canceled it in a mood the one time." Marcus shrugged, "That's actually great odds for them." 

You smiled, despite how busy and chaotic the time post Static Cling's destruction of the building was you'd had better interactions with most of the team. You probably got along with Tech and Miracle the best but InvisiGirl and LavaGirl were your favorite among the girls. LavaGirl had spent an hour the other day, dropping off her collateral damage forms, and waxing poetic about Sharkboy and how hard it was because they couldn't spend concrete long amounts of time together. It was hard. But they were working on extending that time. 

"Sometimes I worry that we…. Maybe we are too different. Maybe it can't work." 

"No, it's just hard. Difference is good. Doesn't mean it's easy but it's good." 

She gave you a smile that you couldn't read and you had a vague suspicion that she was hiding something but Miracle had come in and she had left abruptly.

Marcus was laying back, his breathing slow and even, and he was just watching you and the shadows on the ceiling. 

You nuzzled into him, "They'll be fine, but I don't get a relationship built on constant bickering. Works for some people but it's not my thing." 

He smiled against your hairline and pressed a kiss there, "Thank God I hate that petty bullshit." 

"Why were you talking about it?" 

He traced his fingers up your spine, up and down, and even without his currents he was raising little goosebumps. 

"Will you go with me?" 

"Did she give you a plus one because I don't need her exploding in close proximity to deejay equipment." 

"Be serious." 

"I am have you ever had to replace equipment after one of her little lightning shows?" 

He pressed his hand flat against your back, "Honey, please--- I want you to go with me." 

You sat up on your hip a little and he looked a little nervous, you traced nonsense patterns all over his chest, “You sure you thought it through? Headquarters pulled out the stops for them, it’s the whole friggin’ building, it’s own press junket, publicity….”

“Listen I know that I’m no DiCaprio--”

“Oh he’s overrated--” You waved a dismissive hand but it made Marcus sit up in bed, dislodging you from your comfortable nook.

“Do you...really not want to be seen with me?”

He hadn’t given that much consideration: he was so into you he didn’t consider that it could be one-sided. He’d been a bedpost notch before and then dismissed: people wanted to say they had fucked a superhero but they didn’t want to deal with the red tape and the fuss. For a second his heart was hammering-- did you really not want to deal with it? Could you not handle it?

“Fuck, no, the opposite Marcus--- are you sure you want to be seen with me?”

His pulse slowed, “What?”

“I’m not….I’m not special or super. I’m me. And the odds of me dropping an F bomb on camera are really high. I’m just the assistant. Normal. Marcus Moreno and a normal woman. Can your press numbers even withstand that after the Static Cling fall out?”

He laughed at you. You’d been at least half serious and you strung one arm around around his neck until he focused but instead he dropped his hands to your hips and coaxed you onto his lap.

“Honey...I’d wear a shirt with your name on for the cameras, I could give a shit about them. They aren’t important.” He curled both arms around your waist and held you tight against his chest, “You are. I just… I don’t want to be in a stuffy room with people without you there making me laugh. I want to be able to hold your hand. Fuck people’s expectations, I want to show you off. I would like a second chance at seeing you all dolled up but potentially with less destruction…”

“Potentially same amount of underwear?”

“Definitely.” He nodded sagely, “But I don’t promise to behave if you do that.” 

“Promises, promises.” You moved your hips against him and felt him moan, twitch and stir.

“Promise.” He had his mouth on your collarbone, “Now you promise-- say you’ll come. Say you want to stick it out, say you don’t care about the circus, you just care about me.”

You picked his little puppy dog face up to look at yours, “Only you, you dork.”

You ground your hips lightly against him and he tightened his grip, “Now...what was that about saying I’ll cum?”

He smiled devilishly at you and flipped you onto your back, nipping one breast on his way down your stomach, and he had you making promises for the rest of the night.

*

In the morning you slept through two alarms and were rushing to get on pants so that you could get coffee before work. Marcus was in the shower. 

You two did not commute in with one another. 

You were going to beat him to the office but you honestly had no idea how you were going to look at Anita in the eye today.

There were a lot of questions you had regarding exactly what was known, what was expected, and frankly you realized that Anita was definitely not dumb: she did not think two adults sat around holding hands for months and batting their eyelids at one another. The question was how on earth did this not become awkward. 

You had never tried so hard to avoid Anita in your life. It was almost distracting you from the fact that you had to find a dress for Lightning’s wedding. This was a celebrity wedding-- the celebrity wedding. You….

You really had to stop getting yourself wrapped up in all this drama, had your time with Lindsay Lohan taught you nothing?

But it was for Marcus, with Marcus and you really didn’t know how you were expected to refuse him literally anything he asked for.

See it really wasn’t Marcus that stressed you. You were feeling the anxiety from a looming personal dinner with Anita.

You were trying like hell to just preserve your game face but here’s the thing about Anita at work: she was a ghost wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a whisper. You could never tell where she would be. You had gone literal weeks and not seen her once. Then there were days when she was there before you got in, and you were usually in by six-thirty, and she was still just looming in the building after you packed up, some nights well after nine. It was just…

How do you avoid someone when you couldn’t remotely predict them?

This was the thought you were having when someone snapped a cane by your foot and your response ran out of your mouth before you honestly figured out what was happening, “Jesus Anita!”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry Mother Superior stop fucking scaring me.” You snapped.

Great.

You snapped. At your person-you-were-sleeping-with’s mother. His mother. His very scary mother who was in charge of feeding you tonight and could very well choose to poison you. This was...fucking great. Great start. Way to go you. 

Anita glowered, “I do not know why I am having to talk to the Prime Minister of Jordan.”

“Well, see, constitutional monarchies--”

She held up a hand and offered you a file, “This you will deal with. Something about a missile. Dinner is at six.”

Wait…

What?

*

You were at Marcus’ apartment again. It was quarter to five, you had tried to de-escalate Jordan’s tactical response to a minor incident where Miracle had exploded an oil tanker in their local ocean (you loved Shark Boy and his weird ocean powers, you loved him, and the fact that LavaGirl was practically a package deal and she could set oil on fire with her mind, really, you loved them) until four oh five. It was literally an all day process. Then you were trying to leave and a bunch of last minute approvals for Lightning’s wedding came and you had just shoved them in your bag, driven really unsafely to Marcus’ place and waited for him in the parking garage while you responded to last minute vendor scheduling which included a really winded phone call from Janine.

“Hey, so did you see the samples I sent you a picture of?”

“I did, I love, I want all of them-- I know this will shock you but they are going red and black as the colors, make those look...classy wedding. I don’t want Michael Jackson Thriller vibes, give me something to make Martha Stewart weep.”

Janine snorted, “Got you, so the ombre maybe a hair lighter but I can go for a few bold accents. Did you confirm the numbers for the boutonnieres? And the bouquets?”

“Yeah I just …. Uh….wait must...yup, just pressed send, you’ll see it in a second.”

“Great. Also Ravi is here.”

There was the sound of a struggle that concerned you slightly and you asked, “Janine? ...... Janine?”

“--I am going to ask her Janine you stop it you owe me from Burning Man--” 

A heavy sigh and then a transfer, “Hey, hi, how are you, it’s Ravi.”

“Hello my man, long time no see, how’s the floating arcade and hipster coffee bar business treating you?”

“Great, great, great...see...about that. Remember when you said you had this hot guy you were seeing and you needed the password for this killer date?”

“I have memories, yes.” 

And you had received four, yes four, noise complaints from the events of that evening. Your one neighbor caught your eye the next evening and just shook their head in something between reverence and annoyance. 

“So yeah we were moving the games, I glanced some leaderboard scores, and I was just sort of mildly wondering wasthatMarcusMorenobecauseIwentbacktothesecurityfootagewhenIsawtheinitialsandIjustsortofreallyneedtoknow.”

You cringed, you were probably a little mean for withholding this information but at the same time Ravi’s energy was a little high.

“Um...yes it was. It was indeed.”

There was a bit of screaming and slapping and someone took the phone after a scuffle and Janine was laughing, “I’m so sorry he’s just...he’s both really excited that a Heroic was in his pop-up arcade and I think extremely depressed that he does not have an autograph.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes, “Well I mean I continue to go on dates with said individual and you guys not only helped me win a bet but like the flowers thing---”

“You’re paying me for the flowers--” Janine tried to dismiss the compliment but you shushed her.

“--Um, yes but I have to talk to all the vendors and you are, by a stretch, the nicest ones and you don’t treat me like the hired help and I like you guys and maybe, please say nothing to Rav, maybe...something can be worked out.”

Janine stifled a giggle, “I won’t say shit about shit.”

You could hear Rav demanding Say what about what...Janine….Janine.

Marcus knocked on your window and you tucked the phone away, he saw your expression and asked if everything was ok.

“Yeah...I may need you to sign something.”

“Prenups are considered standard but I thought what we had was bigger than that.” He joked and slung an arm over your shoulders and you slapped his chest. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “You seem less freaked out about dinner with mom.”

“Yeah no I was freaked out about Lightning’s wedding but I’m throwing on the turn signal and hopping into the freaked out about Anita Moreno lane. Just proper signalling, safety first.”

He chuckled, “You’re going to do fine.”

“I have concerns.”

“Well, hit me with them, I’m ready.” 

“Yeah well I stink so shower first.”

And hence it was quarter to five, you had hopped out of a quick shower where you actually pointed a finger at Marcus like he was a shithead puppy you were training and said “Stay…..Stay there.”

He cocked an eyebrow and followed directions, when you were out he smacked your ass and then jumped in, “Why are you not in a sharing mood?”

“Your mother will sense we have been enjoying the sins of the flesh.”

He snorted, “She caught me red-handed once with Floxia so she knows I’ve been deflowered. Were you really trying to uphold the pure in the eyes of the Lord angle because, I’m not trying to be a dick, but you have fuck me pants on the bed and you suck a cock like you used to feature on Porn Hub.”

“What the hell are fuck me pants?!.....and Thank you.”

“They just do things to your ass and you move this way in them like you know. That’s it. It’s not the pants it's the knowing you have an ass I want to bruise and rail.”

You laughed while you attempted to do a really classy hairstyle, “I mean, one, confidence is clearly key, two, are we having an anal discussion right now? And three, how am I the one who got cited for language? You are just as bad.”

“I don’t say shit like that at work.”

“I mean...cunt is considered a really mild form of cursing in Australia.”

“Are we in Australia?” 

You huffed and started processing how to approach makeup. Too much, you risked hussy. Too little seemed dismissive. 

You were in your towel, staring at the mirror, trying to determine hair and make up and honestly not really paying attention to Marcus, “Hey babe, I brought four outfits, I want your input.”

He didn’t respond and didn’t appear to be moving.

“Marcus?”

One of his hands wrapped around your waist, and one snuck around and cupped your breast, “I heard you...input.”

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

“Marcus we don’t have time.”

“We have time.”

“We do not have time.”

“We have time.” He slowly leaned you over until you were bent over the sink in the bathroom and you could feel him, hard, right behind your thighs, and suddenly you were wet again and teetering on deciding to take him up on this really bad idea.

“Marcus--” 

He started sliding into you with a tight moan and you dropped your towel and pushed back against him, your makeup sliding out from underneath you and going God knows where in his bathroom, “Fuck, Marcus….you’re telling her an excuse, I’m not doing it.”

He bottomed out and your toes were curling and he changed from being hunched over your back to standing completely behind you, the hand that had been on your waist came down and slapped your ass cheek as he started to move, the hand that had been on your breast coming to brace your hip.

“Whatever you want.” He panted as the hand that spanked you came to rest right on the curve of your ass cheek and the thumb...the thumb was circling.

It felt…

Shit it felt intriguing. 

Good.

Was he really…

No.

He would never.

Fuck this felt nice. Maybe…

No. No. 

Maybe.

Oh but how on Earth does his cock seem to hit me just there every single fucking --

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

You were getting out of breath but he was more...intrigued with his circling. 

“Marcus?” 

He picked up his pace, and pressed his thumb down hard enough to make you feel the pressure of it and he said, “Yes dear?”

“Oh fuck….what….”

“You inspired me.” He sent a goddamn jolt into your ass and you made a brand new kind of sound, shock, and pleasure, and you sprung up and started mewling against him, pressing back harder and harder, “Fucking what….what is …. We can’t do this right now…”

He leaned over and bit your shoulder, not answering you, but he sent the current again and you came hard, buckled, almost falling but catching yourself on the sink. 

“Oh Christ Marcus…”

“That the best your mouth can do?” He hissed and you could hear his breath catching, feel him tensing and you made a “Hmmm” in the back of your throat and just barely breathed out, “Cum in me so you know you’re dripping down my legs all fucking night.”

He smacked your ass again and came in a fucking fury.

After a moment he let out a whoosh of breath, “Told you we had time. They’re called quickies for a reason.”

He kissed your back and reached around to brush his thumb over your mouth.

You smirked, “Going to report me to HR?”

He pulled out of you and held you in place, for a moment watching exactly what you suggested he watch, and then pulled you up, turned you around and kissed you, “Honey I want to be the only one you talk to like that.”

You wrapped an arm around him, “Well if you thought that was how I talked to Karen in Shipping…”

He squeezed you, “I mean, I know we never… discussed boundaries. I just want to set it straight: I don’t want to see anyone else and frankly I really don’t think I could take it if you did.”

You were smiling, “I was sort of hoping we were already on that page. I mean...do you normally take your side pieces to meet Anita? So she can...what? Scare them away? You trying to scare me Marcus?”

He put both hands on your shoulders, moved them slowly up to your face, “I just...I want you for myself.”

“You got me you big lug.” You kissed him, and he was pushing into you, deepening it, when the oh shit we got to go alarm went off on your phone and you shoved him, “Fuck! Fuck! This is your fault! We’re going to be late! She’s going to kill me!”

He laughed at your fears, “No, honey, she wouldn’t do that….she wouldn’t want to hire a new assistant right now.”

You threw a fucking shoe at him. You missed. But you threw it. And he wasn’t even scared he laughed and said his grandma had better aim.

God.

You were pulling on your pants and as you did the sensitive nerves on your clit nearly made you whimper again and Marcus’ eyes went right to you, watching you, and then cupped your ass and said, “All fucking night.”

God.

Absolutely.

But first….you had to remember to put on deodorant.

*

“Stop. Fidgeting.” He was trying to soothe you.

“We’re late.”

“We aren’t late yet….” He subtly looked at the clock and then the speedometer and tried to just give a little more cushion, “Ok, so focus on me, not the clock. What’s another question?”

“How many times have you done this?”

“Uh, drive? Daily.”

You were not amused by his attempts to make you laugh, “The mom meeting.”

“Three.” He held up three fingers and counted backwards, “Floxia, she was my like I guess you could say high school girlfriend. We started fucking around when I got the promotion to lead squad, then she dropped me for some K Pop star I’ve never heard of.”

“Floxia?” 

“She didn’t make the cut. There’s a few like that, their powers either never really developed strongly or they never learned to fight well….Mostly if they identified as super they got brought to Headquarters. Floxia could make flowers grow.”

“Super flowers?”

“Regular flowers. Just like...decorative flowers. Nothing special about them. They were nice.” He shrugged, “But like, she hated fighting. Wanted me off the squad because she didn’t want to be on it. She… I dunno. Your typical teenage girlfriend? At the time you think woah this is super important and significant and later you’re like this was never going to work out why was I so obsessed with it working out.”

You nodded, “Been there, done that….how long?”

“Three years.” He had a wistful smile, “Your turn.”

“Um, no, none of my information is pertinent to me understanding how to survive the evening.” 

“Oh come on,” He nudged you, “No fair.”

“Ok. His name was Michael. He lived down the block.”

Marcus made a continuation gesture with his hand, “Duke of Norway? Witness Protection Program? I’m just trying to see what company I’m keeping.”

“Uh, just Michael. Michael….Fuck I can’t remember his last name now, it was something I always said wrong as a kid….what the fuck was it….”

“He took your virginity and you can’t remember his name?”

“Oh no he was my high school boyfriend when I was still in normal-ish high school, I was a late bloomer, I didn’t drop the V card until after high school.” You looked out the window, “But that kid carried my backpack for me every day for over seven months and never tried to slide into home plate so he gets honorable mention.”

Marcus considered this and nodded, “Fair.”

You tagged him, “You’re it….and we are late.”

“We are not late yet.” He was starting to get a little nervous, “So… Madelyn Connor.”

You stared at him.

“The underwear model?!” You held up an angry finger, “You said I was the first non-super you’ve dated!”

“She is, technically, super but she never trained. She can touch things and make them stick together. It’s a bit useless, she hated it, never used it. Used to get dragged to events by her dad….” He had a funny smile on his face, “Has a thing for Latin guys. Her dad is Decodified.”

He paused and his face scrunched up, “And that information isn’t public so, you know, hush hush.”

Your mouth gaped open and shut for a solid minute, “Wait...I’m going to need to know how Anita reacted to this.”

Marcus snorted, “She...uh….”

He cleared his throat, “Made her cry.”

You cackled and had your phone out, furiously Googling pictures and held up one and said, “Just so we are clear, this person?”

Marcus gave it a quick side look, “If it makes you feel better that bra is seriously padded, they aren’t--”

“Oh no no no it does not.” You then looked at the picture carefully, “Ok, it does.”

You were going to buy that bra. You had to. It wasn’t optional. You needed that comparison to be made and you needed to win. This was completely nonsensical. You understood that. But nonetheless you were clicking, linking, putting it in a cart, woah woah woah what did it co--nevermind it was an essential purchase.

Marcus smirked, “She was sweet but sort of…”

He shrugged. 

He was being mild-- Anita had eaten Madelyn alive and they had barely squeaked out another month before he had to tap out. 

What are you thinking bringing that hussy to my house?

She’s not a hussy, mom, she’s my--

HUSSY. 

Mom, she can hear you--

Then tell her to cover her--

Please stop.

La muna aunque de seda, mona se queda.

Alto.

Anita had literally smacked him and said he needed to start thinking with an entirely different head. Frankly he was surprised by the turnaround in Madelyn-- she had gone from pretty confident to whiny, constant fishing for compliments and needing him to constantly say how wrong he thought his mom was. 

Floxia his mother had called flor vacia. Empty. 

Which, in retrospect, was accurate and it was, also, now, though not then, hysterical that Flox held onto the belief for years that Anita was calling her an endearing pet name. Whenever they had hit a milestone Anita would roll her eyes, “Still?”

He could only say he was happy to have been brushing up your Spanish for a couple months, it was going to come in handy in heading Anita off at the pass. He hoped. 

He felt...shockingly calm. He was actually not worried. He expected his mom to be his mom and you to be you….it seemed to work well in some settings.

“Who was number three?” You perked up.

“A story for another day.” He pulled into a long driveway and you inhaled.

“What the….” You were shocked, “Is this Wayne Manor? What is happening?”

Marcus rolled his eyes, “Just a house.”

“Does it have its own zip code?”

He was going to snip back at you and then paused, “Actually yeah but not for the reasons you think.”

*

You walked in holding Marcus’ hand-- just walked into a giant, gorgeous villa that you felt you had underdressed for and shook your head, “Should have worn the heels, they double as a weapon.”

“There is a training ground...she sometimes makes people use it. Just...you know, watch your footing.”

“Helpful Marcus. Real helpful.” He squeezed your hand and then pulled it up for a kiss.

“You do battle with her regularly, just treat it like that.”

“Listen, I’m going to be honest, I stopped filtering myself around her months ago and that’s going to be real hard to walk back from and something probably is coming out.” You shrugged, “You’ve been warned.”

He snorted, “Never seen someone hurt her feelings, you’ll be fine.”

Then a cane snapped behind you with a terse “You’re late” and you shrieked, “For fuck’s sake Anita stop doing that!”

“Excuse me?” She cocked an eyebrow at you and you had already started so you might as well finish. 

“Cruella, whatever, quit trying to give me a heart attack, I have something to live for.” You felt Marcus chuckle in his chest and wrap an arm around your waist.

“Lo siento.” Marcus was smirking. Smirking. His mother was going to kill you. He was smirking, “It’s my fault, I got distracted getting ready.”

She eyed you, inviting an elaboration or a contradiction to which you shrugged, “I had two alarms set and repeatedly warned him-- tardiness. It comes from the home.”

Her mouth didn’t move but her eye twinkled just a little. 

For what reason you couldn’t tell, she could be preparing to strike. 

But she straightened her back and pointed to a patio with her cane, “I thought we would eat outside, it’s lovely.”

*

Lovely was right. 

You stepped foot onto the patio and whistled, “My…God. I had no idea you were a gardener Anita.”

“Excuse me.”

“For fuck’s sake-- it’s that or mom, take your pick. Mrs. Moreno sounds like a sweet old grandma who doesn’t know jiu jitsu.” 

She handed you a glass of lemonade and you accepted it warily, “If it’s poisoned I want to know.”

“I wouldn’t stoop so low, if I want to kill you I will do it to your face.” She pushed both eyebrows up.

After a tense stare you both broke into smiles, “Alrighty then--- be honest do you do the gardening?”

“Of course.” She clicked her chin up proudly, “Best begonias in the state, two years running.”

“What’s your secret?” You were following Marcus to a table and he pulled out your chair for you.

Marcus leaned in to whisper, “You know how you’re supposed to talk to plants? Get them to grow?”

“Mmhmm?”

“She just yells at them. Never seen anything like it. Grow like gangbusters, you should see her tomatoes, big as softballs.”

Anita looked very pleased, “This year I thought they were a little muted, they were better the year before.”

You felt extreme sympathy for the tomatoes. 

You focused on the plate in front of you and looked up at Anita, she was regarding you with some interest. Her interest always made you feel like you were in danger but the novelty of such a feeling wasn’t fresh anymore.

You sniffed and offered, “Angelina’s?”

Anita looked shocked for a minute and then laughed, “Very good….how did you guess?”

“Best saltimbocca in town. Didn’t take you for an Italian fan. I would’ve thought the vague jealousy of Machiavelli interfered.” 

Under the table Marcus squeezed your knee and he looked...light. 

*

Dinner went well, you thought. At least nobody choked. Anita told a couple stories about Marcus as a kid that had you laughing and him blushing. She sometimes stopped to ask for him to give her a word in English, something you had never seen her do before. You forgot, sometimes, that she was super but still human. Dessert was more of a cooperative learning experience. Anita feigned fatigue and asked Marcus to help her with the flan. He rolled up his sleeves and stage whispered, “Don’t let her fool you, she never gets it right.”

She slapped him, but as lightly and playfully as you had ever seen her slap anyone. 

She watched him work and then eyed you, which you didn’t notice. As he got his area ready you did the only thing he let you do in the kitchen when it was his turn to cook: you were allowed to lay out ingredients. Anita had an easy to navigate fridge and Marcus would nudge you toward a cupboard when you needed something you couldn’t find. He was watching his mom who was watching you, trying to gauge how it was going. He tentatively thought well as there had been surprisingly little insult throwing. 

She had called you chatty at one point and you pretended to barely be able to understand her, “What’s that, french, Anita? J’dore you too you strange lady.”

She rolled her eyes whenever you did it but you wouldn’t give an inch. She was right, you were chatty, and you knew you had over-talked all evening but it was half a defense mechanism anyway. 

When you two made to leave Anita checked her watch, “Don’t be late to work.”

You were not sure what that meant but Marcus patted down his pockets after he closed your door and flicked the car on before saying, “Forgot my phone, be back in a second.”

Anita was holding his phone up for him.

"Mi hijo." Anita's voice was firm, a request but also a command. Marcus paused, "She's in the car, mom, do we have to do this now?" 

"You think you should wait?" Anita put up her hands, "Fine." 

He groaned and put his head in his hands, she knew exactly what she was doing, "Alright… I'll bite. What do you think?" 

Anita smiled, "Ella es tu media naranja." 

Marcus took a step back and looked at his mother soberly, his heart racing, because he had hardly admitted this to himself and as per usual Anita cut to the quick. He swallowed hard and smiled, Anita came up and gently slapped one of his cheeks, "You better hope she never realizes she could be off with someone who isn't afraid to tell her that." 

He snorted, "This coming from the person who kept my father on the hook for a year before agreeing to go on a single date? You want me to propose when I haven't even told her I…" 

Anita cocked an eyebrow at him, "You want to finish that sentence Tonto? Serves you right, sass your mama like that….and as for Emilio…" 

She got quiet, "I didn't make him wait because I wasn't in love with him. I knew… I knew he was the love of my life. I made him wait because….I knew. And I was terrified." 

This shocked Marcus, "You're not scared of anything." 

She snorted, tapping her cane on the ground, "You think that's true? You still a little boy believing in Santa and the Tooth Fairy? Of course I'm afraid of things. Before your father I wasn't afraid of anything. Then…." 

She got quiet and Marcus nodded, understanding, "You were afraid to lose him." 

"And then you happened and you don't even know the half of fears like that. Life is easier without those things...but it's empty. Go be full." 

Marcus stared at her for a moment and then hugged her fiercely, "Te quiero mami… quiero mucho." 

"Tonto." She petted his hair while he hugged her, smiling widely, happy he was happy.

__________________________________________

A/N: tu media naranja-- your half orange, an idiom for soulmate. 

Again, feel free to correct me Spanish speakers, it was hard as hell coming up with Anita-insults for these women. 

Usual warnings-- not beta read. Probaby riddled with errors. I have no idea how I’m being this productive with this fic. This is highly uncharacteristic. I blame the insomnia. 

Also this is everyone with Anita all the time:

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