Verity Alice Price

Two years ago, Verity had been caught flat-footed by the sudden appearance of two tiny, adorable cherubs calling her 'Mom.' Last year, Verity had been prepared for that, but had been taken aback by the sudden appearance of a third child, a young boy who called her 'Ate,' which meant big sister, but she was basically a parent to him, too, in this weird and distant future.

This year, however...this year, Verity was prepared. There were already pancakes being prepared, with fruit to make silly faces on them. Multiple kid-friendly movies were queued up on various devices for when the kids got bored and needed entertainment. Brightly-colored plastic cups and bowls were stacked on the counter so that even the most rambunctious kid could get their own food, with chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs and sugary cereals ready for whenever a capricious appetite demanded.

Hell, they even had extras, in case a new kid or two showed up.

Take that, past!Verity. Nothing could throw this year's Verity.

While Liam might have been ready and willing to hop up out of bed on only a few hours sleep to go to the picnic, Verity was absolutely not. Instead, she'd shooed him out, promising to come out and find him after she got a few more hours of precious, precious sleep in. And maybe a cup of coffee. And possibly a run around the island, just to stretch her legs after days of driving.

Basically, she'd catch up with him later.

The knock at her door came in the early afternoon, while she was still in the shower. She'd yelled for whoever it was to come back later, but the knocking had persisted. And persisted. And since it sounded like whoever was there wasn't going away - she had her money on Beau, actually - Verity hopped out and threw on a tank and sweats to answer the door.

To find a small box in brightly-colored wrapping paper. Apparently Beau had given up, but left this behind.

Sweet, if weird. "This had better be a bottle, Beau," Verity said, pulling off the top. "And I know Karolina wrapped this for--FUCK!"

There was a creepy doll in the box. Some horrid, mangled thing and it's eyes were rolling up to her. "MAMA," it cried and raised its plastic hands. "MAMA!"

Verity reached for the gun that was still on the foot of their bed - but it was too late.

A second later, both she and the doll were gone.

So, it was that week. Yup. The night before had been something of a nightmare, even sexting Liam all night (and a mid-shift quickie on a nearby rooftop, sorry squirrels and birds) hadn't really helped. The activities that had followed when she got home had finally quieted the need some, at least enough to get to sleep, but none of that mattered by the time they woke up.

Liam had decided to be responsible and go get plenty of groceries (and maybe stock up on some other necessities, too, ahem) to make sure that they could survive the week with minimal trips away from the house and also keep the mice bribed to stay in their room. To show her appreciation for that, Verity had decided to wear a shirt of his to greet him when he came home.

A certain mesh shirt.

And that was it. Though, considering how big Liam was and how short she was, it actually hung down lower than some of her tango costumes.

[For the guy! Going where you absolutely think it's going. Sorta? Anyway preemptive NSFW. ]

It was Valentine's Day and while it wasn't their first Valentine's Day together, the last one had still been early enough on that neither of them had really known what they were doing. As a couple. This time, however, 'I love you's' had been exchanged and so had keys, he'd met her family, he hadn't run screaming from her family, and he'd even rescued her from a snake cult. Those were a lot of relationship milestones right there, even if some were Price-exclusive.

So tonight she'd sent the mice off to gorge on cake and cheese in their closet in the spare room, turned the lights to dim, turned some slow music on, and started cooking dinner. The one flaw in her holiday plans so far was that she'd naively assumed that 'an ability to cook basic food' meant that she was fully qualified to cook elaborate romantic meals.

She was vastly learning that this was in error.

"What? Emulsify? I've got a spatula and a slotted spoon, how the hell am I supposed to do that?!"

[For the boyfriend!]