Chaos Clubbing

"Reminds me of home in Sweden, our plows were quick." She led him out to the truck, then drove them to the hospital. The food was on the seat between them. "I would... make a request of you. When your mother begins to meddle and matchmake... please do not grow angry with her. She seeks your happiness."

He was quiet for a few moments. "She has been trying to do so for about six years now. I simply hope it does not... put you off. One can never have too many friends, and pushy mothers... well...," he shrugged.

She snorted softly, "What makes you think she has not already started... laying the groundwork? She has gushed a great deal about you. She tells me stories of her husband and their family when we play games together. Her handsome oldest son, the fighter pilot, is obviously the best they could ever hope for. How handsome and kind he is, how he's going to make such a good father one day. Of course, then she talks about how beautiful Ricky is when he's all dressed up and how he needs to find a boyfriend and settle down. And how Amethyst looked beautiful in her wedding gown and her husband was such a lucky man."

He blinked and sighed. "Mother... exaggerates sometimes," he said, trying to dispel any puffed-up images that his mother might have gotten her to latch on to. "Yes, I am good, but I am old and ready to retire. And not nearly so good of a man as my father was," he murmured, remembering the man with a pang of grief. Then, changing the subject so that he was not talking about himself constantly, as he recalled that women he'd known did not particularly like that, he asked, "So... Sweden? What brings you to the States?"

"Well, my original purpose was to visit my brother and his wife as they were expecting. Then I decided to stick around." She smiled wryly, "I was in the military for six years and needed a change. Master Michael and his wife Annabelle are quite sweet, they have the most beautiful munches. "

"It sounds like they have quite the community up here," he murmured. "Any plans on what you are going to do now that you're staying or are you still figuring that out?" he asked.

"Still figuring it out," she said with a wry smile. "I'm looking for the right opportunity."

He nodded. "Sometimes that can be a hard thing to find. As much hard work as serendipity," he observed.

She smiled at him, then focused on the road. "For now I am pleased to help your family. I enjoy serving those deserving of it."

He nodded. "I can understand that. Just, please, do not place yourself under undue strain. Tell me what you need so I can help."

She blinked in shock, glancing at him, then a soft, startled giggle escaped. It was completely adorable and a sound he would have never expected from her. "I promise if I start feeling undue financial strain I will inform you."

"I wasn't simply talking about the financial. Being a caregiver is a strain all its own. Even when it is for friendship. Please... tell me? If you start feeling... off? I'd like to be able to help before that happens," he offered.

"I promise that if I start feeling off I will tell you," she said simply. "I enjoy helping and caring for others. It pleases me to serve, and your family is worthy of my service."

He regarded her for a long moment, then nodded, satisfied that she at least understood. "Your help is appreciated," he murmured. "Sincerely."

She inclined her head, "As long as you accept that I know the limits of my capabilities," she winked at him, "I promise I am not going to martyr myself. Your mother does enough of that for five people."

He snorted, unable to control the onset of laughter. "Jesus...," he gasped, nodding. "It's pretty obvious, isn't it?"

She nodded, "It is hard to remain angry with her, but yes, yes it is." She sighed, "At least I still have bondage gear." She smirked, "Don't be surprised if you discover her tied up from trying to do more work than she should."

He chuckled, "Serves her right," he quipped. "Stubborn woman."

"My understanding is that it is genetic," she responded dryly, "I had a forty-five-minute argument with Ricky about picking them up at the airport. I finally agreed to allow them to simply take a cab to my house, but in exchange, we would go shopping together for 'the perfect dress'."

He sighed. "Look... Ricky's... a bit much. I love him. He's my brother. But sometimes he... overwhelms people. It's not something he does intentionally, he's just... larger than life?" he tried to explain. "So don't feel like you have to do everything he asks you to do just to be polite or something, OK? And if you need someone to rein him in, I can usually...," he trailed off.

She chuckled softly, "It will be fine. If I need to rein them in, I'll just tie them up too."

Frank smiled wryly, "I'm fairly sure that wouldn't be much of a punishment to him. He'd almost certainly enjoy that."

She burst into soft laughter. "Perfect, I've been needing to practice my knotwork." She pulled into the parking lot. "Let's go see how much trouble your mother has been giving the doctors." She stepped out and picked up the plate of burritos and a small bag from behind her seat.

He stepped out of the truck and stayed close as they walked in, making sure that she did not slip on the ice either. They took the elevator up to the floor his mother was on and walked to her room. As they approached they heard her voice. "I'm just fine, you silly girl. I don't need to stay here three more days..."

Frank sighed and rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Fuck..."

"I'm sure he did," Ingrid murmured with a soft laugh, then stamped her foot twice. They heard Brina squeak and it caused Ingrid to laugh again. "She's adorable when she knows she's in trouble. I guess I'm just going to have to drink this pumpkin spice thing by myself." Her voice lifted slightly so that Brina could hear her.

There was an anguished bellow from the open room, "NO! That's my pumpkin spice latte, you evil woman!"

"Be nice...," Frank growled as they rounded the corner. "Dad would be rolling in his grave to see you fuss so, mother."

"He'd laugh," Brina said pointing at him, "He always thought me being fussy was adorable."

"Yeah, well... you were married to him. The nurses here are just doing their jobs, just like Amethyst. And your friend here is being incredibly generous. So you're going to stay here until they release you to go home, and then you're going to rest until your leg is fully healed and follow all medical advice that you're given by your doctors. Is that understood? I'm not going to kick the bucket and have to answer to Dad as to why I let you get away with being obstinate in a situation like this." He shuddered at the thought. While his dad was a soft-spoken man most of the time, when he had to be stern, no one wanted to be on the receiving end.

Brina opened her mouth as if to argue, only to close it when Ingrid held up a cup and the contents swirled. "Oh, fine. I'll behave." Ingrid placed the cup in her hand. "I don't want to be a bother for Ingrid." Ingrid started to pull the cup back, "But I'll be good."

"Good girl, I do have my restraints," Ingrid murmured with a small, wicked smirk. "You will listen, you will come home with me, you will do what is necessary."

"Why are you so stubborn?"

"Mirror, Brina, mirror."

Frank watched the exchange with a small smile of approval. Finally, adding, "And you are not a bother, mother. Don't assume."

"Besides, your son has offered to assist if I need it. Ricky will also be here in a week."

"And apparently, Amethyst is looking at taking some time to come up if she can get it off work," he said. "Your family loves you, mom. And you have a friend that obviously cares about you too."

Brina's lower lip quivered slightly and Ingrid moved, wrapping her in a hug as Brina shed soft tears. "I just don't want to be a burden," she confessed.

"You are not, you are a friend, a mother, and a good woman," Ingrid responded. "You care for others. You just need to allow others to care for you in your time of need. Just as you cared for your husband. Now, after you are home, when Brandi and Gerald bring their little man to visit, you can help me by holding him when I need to do things."

Brina looked like she wanted to argue, but at the same time, the thought of holding a baby again was a remarkably pleasant one and it finally won out. She nodded. "OK. But only until this thing heals," she gestured in frustration at the full-leg cast she was wearing.

"And while you're going through physical therapy," Ingrid said firmly. "And if you give me any grief I do have suspension rigging in my basement." For a brief moment, Frank saw a look of longing on his mother's face that he wished with all his heart he could forget. Not that he thought there was anything at all wrong with the idea, he simply did not wish to know about his mother's personal experience with it.

The next hour was spent talking while Brina enjoyed the coffee and the burritos. Finally, the nurse came in and she was given her medication. "We'll be back this afternoon to visit. We're going to finish getting your room ready."

"Oh all right," she huffed. "I'll see you two this afternoon."

"Good girl," Ingrid kissed the top of her head, then led Frank from the room.

The next several days passed in a routine. They would visit Brina in the morning, then do a few things together during the day, then again in the afternoon. Periodically Ingrid would sit down at the computer to do some work. Finally, Brina was released and she was practically dancing in her seat. Ingrid arrived at the hospital to pick her up, she grumbled as she was simply lifted from the chair into the truck. Frank climbed into the front seat as Brina pouted in the back. "I could have climbed in."

"Ice," Ingrid responded dryly. "I have your doctor's instructions as well since you thought you would 'forget them'."

They drove home, Brina chattering away in the back. When Frank looked over, she had a small, fond smile on her face. At his look, she smirked, "Reminds me of my mother," she offered. "She was a wonderful woman."

"My condolences," he murmured, reaching over to briefly touch her forearm before putting his hand back in his lap.

"Thank you," she smiled slightly and inclined her head towards him. She pulled into the garage. "Now, would you prefer to carry her, or her bags into the house?"

He paused for a moment considering that, and then finally said, "I will carry her." He got out of the car and shifted things around to be able to get her out of the back seat. Then, lifting he gently cradled her to his chest with what Ingrid thought to be one of the most tender looks she had ever seen.

Ingrid smiled softly, then gathered the bags to carry them in. "Now, Ricky should be here the day after tomorrow. They sent me their flight information. I have made your favorite for dinner, you will allow me to help you with the shower until Amethyst arrives for a bit."

"Yes Ingrid," Brina sighed, then protested, "I'm not helpless."

"No, but you are also injured and in need of assistance. There is no shame in leaning on family and friends in times of need. Just as you comforted me after that disastrous date. I think you are being stubborn just to be stubborn." Ingrid commented.

"Yeah, she's never done that... before," Frank remarked drolly as he rolled his eyes while his mother smacked his arm, offended. He gently set her down on the couch in the living room. "Can I get you something to drink, mom?" he asked softly.

"Pumpkin spice latte?" Brina looked hopeful at the two of them. Ingrid smirked and walked into the kitchen, she came out a moment later with a cup and handed it to Brina. "You sneaky witch, you anticipated my request."

"Yes, and even if I did not, only one of us would go acquire the drink, you would not be left alone to find trouble," Ingrid responded drolly. "Your magazine and knitting are in the bag on your left. The rulebook to a new TTRPG and dice to match it are on your right, the remote is in the cubby next to you and the bathroom is right down the hall. Your chair will be here tomorrow."

She opened her mouth and Frank jumped in. "She let me buy the chair, mom. Or rather, I expressed how displeased I would be if she didn't allow me to buy the chair. I think she relented out of spite, but...," he arched his brow at Ingrid, the ghost of a smile playing about his lips.

"Your pout was adorable," Ingrid agreed with a smirk.

"I know, he's got his Father's pout. He always gave me such a look if I didn't let him buy things." Brina gushed with a broad smile. "Of course then I always worshiped him so that he'd know who was in charge..."

"I'm sure," Ingrid said drolly. "Now, why don't you rest a bit on the couch, Frank can keep you company. I will make cookies. Brandi sent over a recipe."

"Oh, fine. As long as you have some of them too," she grumped.

"Very well," Ingrid smirked, then turned and walked to the kitchen.

Brina sighed, then smiled at Frank, "Isn't she sweet?"

He nodded, wondering how he could navigate the next week or so without encouraging his mother in her pursuit to 'set him up' with someone. It had nothing to do with the fact that Ingrid was attractive and interesting and he would like to get to know her better. It was that he had no desire to be set up with someone by his mother.

Brina smirked to herself as she sat back, now he was distracted and she could get her book out. She fanned herself, that R. Wolf was such a good writer. "I will read, why don't you go help Ingrid in the kitchen."

He looked at her for a moment, then got up and walked toward the kitchen. "She wanted to read," he told Ingrid. "Do you by chance have something I could do to help that would let me sit here at the breakfast table and keep an eye on her?"

"Why yes," Ingrid beamed, and set a computer in front of him, then angled it slightly so that he could easily see the couch. "Wait for the button to go green, then click and type in the code that pops up."

He looked at the screen and saw a sea of numbers, none of which made any sense, but after waiting for about five minutes, the button did indeed turn green and he clicked it before typing in the code that appeared. The application made a happy little jingle and then the button turned red once more. "What... did I just do?" he asked. "I hope I didn't... fire missiles at someone or... electrocute a puppy or something..."

"I'm terribly sorry, you blew up the pentagon," Ingrid said drolly.

He thought briefly, then shrugged. "I've met a decent chunk of them. They are all assholes anyway."

Ingrid burst into soft laughter, pausing for a moment, "No, you just made us money." She glanced over, "Two point four."

"Two point four... dollars?" he asked. "Like, two dollars and forty cents?" He made a face. "I mean, yay, money. And happy jingle and all, but..."

"Add a few zeros," she responded, "Two point four million."

His jaw dropped, his eyes wide. "I... Two point four mil...," he stammered. "I just clicked a button. How the hell do you make two point four million dollars clicking a button?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh no, that's your half," Ingrid responded. "You did the hard work."

His fingers slid off the keys as he looked at the laptop warily. "I... my... half?" he said shakily. He had been in the military for a long time. He was extremely frugal. He was not poor, though, when he got out, he would have to get a job, hopefully flying a helicopter, possibly for an EMT company. But two point four million dollars?

"I am an investment banker who dabbles in day trading. The app on that laptop scans the investment opportunities, locks on the ones with the highest ROI, and then displays them. I typically have about five in that account for dabble purposes." She smirked, "Your mom got mad at me when she clicked the button a couple of times, and then money appeared in her account. Her expression was amusing."

"That wasn't funny!" Brina called from the living room.

Ingrid smirked slightly, "Very funny."

"You're serious," he murmured, looking up at her with a strange expression. "Like... serious, serious."

She tilted her head, "Well, yes... I mean it's your money if you want it. I'll just need to arrange a transfer. Your mother thought I was joking when we went to the bank."

"Still not funny."

"I thought the poor little teller was going to faint when the transfer hit. Then your Mom was hugging me and yelling at me... it was a strange experience."

"And... this really isn't... something that bothers you. Or... something you feel obligated to do?" he asked, struggling to wrap his head around this. Who just handed another person two and a half million dollars?

"No?" Ingrid's tone was confused. "Money does not fill a house with love and laughter, it is simply a necessity for life. I have more money than I can spend in my lifetime of which thirty percent of all my earnings go to various charities." She paused, then a wry smirk slipped across her lips. "I also did something quite naughty. Ricky and Amethyst no longer have student loans."

He stared at her for a moment, then let his gaze look from the screen to her several times. Finally, he stood up, walked around the table, and wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you. Thank you for taking care of my family. Of me. You didn't have to do it, but I'm grateful," he said softly, the emotion seemingly foreign on his face.

She froze for a split second in shock at the hug, then melted into his hold, her arms coming up around him to hug him in return. An internal part of her perked up with a soft 'Oh, hello'. She smiled softly, "Your Mom has treated me well, like I was her child. It's been very nice." She murmured. "She was worried, I could help. So I did."

"It was an off-hand comment that she stole and ran with," Brina called, "I still don't know how she did it."

"Skills... mad skills... and stupid money. They don't care who pays it as long as it gets paid." Ingrid shrugged, "American loan companies are weird like that."

He chuckled, still holding her for a long moment. Something in him didn't really want to let go, but he did anyway finally, letting his arms slowly slip from her body. "Thank you. You're... amazing," he murmured.

She didn't release him for a moment, then sighed and let go, her nose crinkled. "You're very welcome." She winked up at him, "You can give me more of those later." She turned to get the cookies out of the oven.

Blushing at the way his impulsiveness had affected her, he ducked his head and murmured, "I might just have to do that," as he returned to sit at the table watching the screen once again. When the button turned green, he clicked as quietly as possible and softly entered the code, trying not to let her know he'd done it so she didn't feel like she had to give him more money. He had no idea what he was going to do with two and a half million dollars, much less more. He just wanted to help her.

The computer made the happy little jingle again and she chuckled and glanced over, she winked at him as he winced, "Nice."

"Shit... where's the damn mute key on this thing..."

"Watch your language, Francis!" his mom barked from the other room.

He sighed. "Sorry, Mom," he rumbled.

She chuckled, shaking her head slightly, then stepped over to wrap her arms around him and hug him. She rested her cheek by his head and put her lips to his ear. "The money made you uncomfortable. How can I fix it?"

He slowly wrapped his arms around her. "It's just... it's a lot of money, and I don't feel like I earned it. I understand what you did and why. I'm not trying to complain. It's just... my dad raised me a certain way, and this situation happens to be a bit... outside the covered material as far as life lessons go, you know?" He chuckled slightly. "I'll figure it out, I promise. I'm not upset, and you didn't do anything wrong."