|Location||Harrison and Sam's House - New Jersey|
|Summary||Lexie goes to visit home and hangs with her mom.|
Better late than never??? Lexie couldn't make it home for her dad's birthday because a blizzard happened to be ruining New York City. And then she was just -- you know, doing other stuff. Uhm. Harrison has already wandered off back into the garage to introvert, leaving his wife and daughter to hang out in probably their most common hangout over the years: the kitchen. Lexie is seated on the counter, arms braced on the edge and watching her mother thoughtfully. "How long as Tom been an asshole?" she wonders.
"Since birth," Samantha answers promptly. Her hair is twisted up behind her and held by a claw. She is currently working on dumping ice cubes by hand into a large blender. They crackle against each other as the blender pitcher shifts slightly on impact. "Since during birth," she corrects herself. "Because he was fucking huge and took like two days to come out."
The kitchen has that warm baking things smell already from the contents of the oven, looooong familiar since Lexie's childhood since she's always doing that, but limeade, limes, tequila and triple sec that are lined up on the counter next to Lexie are a little more new in terms of parent/child bonding. At least, only the last couple of years. No wonder Harrison has absented himself.
"Ugh," Lexie says, nose wrinkling. "Has he always done that thing where he says things out loud he totally shouldn't say in some weird 'for your own good' scenario?" After a beat, she adds, "Also: that's gross." B -- irth??
"Uhh," Sam says. She picks up the tequila bottle and unscrews its cap. She takes a whiff of it like she expects it to have gotten less strong since the last time she opened it, and then goes, "Whoof. What's gross, the miracle of childbirth? Yeah, definitely." Grinning a little, she starts pouring it over the ice with a hissy crackle of alcohol over cubes. "He's never had much of a filter and he's always had a mouth on him. It kinda runs in the family, kiddo."
"What! I have a filter," Lexie claims in a blatant lie. It's perhaps more true to say: "I have more of a filter than /Tom/ does." Maybe that comes from Harrison??
"Okay," Sam does not disagree. She gives Lexie a wide smile and puts down the tequila. "I raised him to be candid. He took me at my word, I guess. Sorry. I apologize for all of my bad parenting decisions. Hand me that triple sec, will ya?"
"I feel like you're not really all that apologetic," Lexie accuses, gaze narrowing dramatically on her mother even as she leans over to grab the triple sec and hand it over.
"Nope." The liqueur splashes over the ice into the blender as Sam cracks the brand new seal and then pours. "Having more of a filter than he does, not so much an accomplishment. You're still pretty straightforward. Like I said: family trait." Sam laughs a little as she shakes her head, reaching to smash her limeade into the rest of the mixture by dint of a big wooden spoon. "The righteousness, though, I dunno where that came from."
"I don't know where the /grumpiness/ comes from," Lexie counters with a hint of warmth in the low laugh that puffs out.
"Positivity backwash. He just couldn't take it." Sam's mouth is a little crooked. She smashes the lid down hard on the blender, holds it down with one hand and a little elbow grease, and starts the blender. It roars loud enough that she could barely hear herself talk; there is, perforce, a pause.
"Was he--" Lexie starts to say, but then she's interrupted by the roar of the blender. Hm.
Sam pauses the blender, and unlids it, and reaches in to mash around with her spoon. "He always had a lot to be angry about," she says. She glances up at Lexie over the spoon, mouth twisting faintly.
"I--" Lexie starts to say, and then she frowns faintly. "I know that," she says, just a touch defensively, like her mother of all people is going to start judging her for not being nice enough about her brother.
"That doesn't mean he's not a little shit. I wasn't talking about the abduction thing, by the way. He was always like that. Mad as hell. He blazed with rage as a five year old." Sam interrupts her own speech with the roar of the blender again as she puts her mixture through another few pulses.
"You know he calls you a slut," Lexie shares between pulses, brow furrowed.
"Well, it's sort of accurate," Sam says when she finishes with the blender. "Not so much anymore, obviously. Your dad would be kind of pissed. I won't go into details, because I don't want to scar your frontal lobe." She unhooks the pitcher from the blender base and sets it down on the counter, moving to start cutting up limes on her cutting board. "I think slut is a dumb word. Too much value judgment. But that's Tom all over. He was pretty resentful of how alone he was as a boy, and he blamed me for a lot."
Alexandra knocks the heel of her boot idly against the cupboard. Her expression is thoughtful as she watches the slide of her mother's knife through the limes. "It's weird to think about you having this whole other life before you met dad," she admits.
"It's always weird that parents were people before they were parents," Sam says with a laugh. "What's super amazing is how hot I still am." Once her limes are wedged, she wanders over to the fridge, licking juice from her fingertips as she opens it to pull a couple of empty margarita glasses out of it.
"Ugh. I'm pretty sure you didn't exist or have lives before I was born," Lexie declares.
"I think that's biologically impossible," Sam says kindly, setting the glasses down beside Lexie and then moving to get the pitcher. "So what did he do that was so awful?"
"Okay, you can exist like -- nine months before I was born," Lexie allows her mother graciously. She sighs a bit at the question. "Just -- you know, grilling -- this guy I'm seeing in the meanest possible way."
Samantha gives Lexie a look of particularly sardonic eyebrows with her pitcher poised over the cold glasses.
Lexie's chin juts a bit, stubborn. "He took knowledge of things that I'd shared with him because I was upset about them and turned around the next day and used it to be an asshole," she says, prickling-defensive again.
"Yep," Sam says. She pours out two margaritas with some care not to slop boozey blended shake onto the floor, and then puts down the pitcher again as she reaches for the limes. "I mean, I can't imagine him being nice to someone any of you are dating, but that sounds pretty asshole to me."
"No, I didn't expect him to be nice," Lexie says, tone shading dry for a moment. "But he did all that thing where he got all apologetic in my head because he can't use words. I was pretty pissy about it."
Sam muddles a bit of fresh lime into each glass, sticks a fresh wedge on the side of each, and then slides one of the two over to Lexie's side, across the counter from its starting point. "I definitely didn't teach him that one," she says. "How'd the guy take the Sikorski assault?"
"Max?" Lexie snorts and takes the drink Sam passes over. "He was way more bothered by us screaming at each other than anything Tom said to him."
Sam snickers a little and says, "Kid must be losing his touch. Well, he's getting old." She picks up her own drink and slurps her first sip.
"Soon he'll be as old as you," Lexie agrees solemnly before sipping at the edge of her glass.
"Not possible," Sam disagrees with the shiver of a laugh in her low voice. "I am as old as the hills. And also as wise. And maybe even as lumpy."
"You're not as old as dad," Lexie points out helpfully.
"I'm the hills. He's kind of the tectonic plate," Sam says musingly. "I always thought tectonic plates would be grumpy." What.
"I mean, I guess they're always crashing against each other and making mountains," Lexie says, albeit with some hint of doubt. Her mom is weird. "Do you ever think it's weird that Tom and dad are the grumpiest in the family but they're not related?"
Sam takes a long swallow of her drink. "Not really," she says. "I do think it's weird that I managed to generate some children that aren't terrible grumps."
"What, it's not like your genes are any less stubborn than anyone else's." Lexie's heel taps restlessly against the counter. "Tom says it was super awkward when you started dating."
Sam chortles. She takes a sip of her drink and then chortles again, almost choking. She pinches the bridge of her nose between thumb and middle finger. "That's a charitable way of putting it."
Alexandra can't help the snorting laugh in reply to her mother's near-choke. It's totally heartless of her, really. Her own mother. "Well, that's Tom," she agrees brightly. "Charitable."
"You should ask your dad about it sometime," Sam suggests heartlessly in her own turn, "preferably while he's drinking something." So some things really do run in the family.Alexandra looks briefly tempted, then briefly repulsed. "I dunno," she says. "That sounds like a one-way tickets to grumpsville. I'll think about it." And drink her margarita. Mostly that one. And maybe ever chatter about other things as well. Because mother/daughter time.