Okay, I wrote this ages ago… as you can probably tell. But I figured I might as well post it, I liked it, you guys should probably like it as well. It's dedicated to the person who inspired me to finally post it: momiji'sunusedhalo. Thanks, I needed a push!
Again, I don't own National Treasure.
Abigail glanced up at the clock. 17:13. Ben should have been home hours ago. Probably got caught up in another mystery…
She sighed, pulled the bowl of popcorn closer. It was sweet of Ben to take his mother out for the day. She wasn't going to argue with that. She couldn't expect him to spend Mother's Day with her, she wasn't even sure whether she wanted to be a mother. But Mother's Day reminded her of how far away her own mother was. She'd called in the morning, but it wasn't the same. She wanted to hug her mother, look at the laugh lines crinkling the corners of her eyes… even after almost fifteen years, she still missed her. And these lonely Sundays… just made it worse.
She frowned, concentrated on the TV and stuffed her mouth with popcorn.
Tap. Tap, tap.
She looked up, gazed at the ceiling. Must have been on TV.
Tap, tap.
Is that the pipes? I told Ben to get someone in to fix that.
TAPTAPTAP.
Finally, Abigail frowned at the window. The curtain was drawn, she was still in her pajamas and was planning on staying in them. Reluctantly, she pulled herself off the couch and stumbled towards the French doors.
She ripped the curtains apart, ready with a torrent of German to scare away any rogue kids that were obviously spoiling her Sunday.
She stopped short.
Riley grinned, made sure his hands were safely hidden behind his back.
Abigail wiped the surprised look off her face, replaced it with a suspicious look. Riley was soaked, his hair standing up like a roughly drawn sun. There was a strange white substance on his hoodie, he had a cut lip and his Converses were covered in mud. And his hands were hidden behind his back.
"You couldn't have come through the front door? You have a key…" her voice trailed off, as she unlocked the door and scrutinized his appearance again. His blue eyes glinted like a schoolboy's - extremely proud of his latest questionable accomplishment. "What happened?"
"You'll never believe me," he scoffed, tried to push past her. "Still in your pj's? Isn't a little late?"
"Don't you judge me – Ben's off for the day… is that… bird… excrement?"
"Some angry bird shat on me. Stupid-" Finally, he could contain his excitement no longer. He whipped the thing behind his back out.
Abigail gasped. It was a huge bouquet of roses. Not red. Not pink. Not yellow. They were… all three.
For a few seconds, she was speechless. Riley panicked, shoved them at her. She took them carefully, stroking a petal.
"Riley… they're beautiful. But… why?"
"Don't worry – they were acquired legally. Mrs. Jenkins from next door won't come knocking, I promise."
Abigail chuckled, re-lived the previous time Riley thought Abigail would like some flowers. It took all of Ben's charm to convince Mrs. Jenkins that Riley was excruciatingly sorry and would like to compensate by mowing her entire estate for a month. Riley had vowed never to steal flowers again. It had barely been ten stems – the woman had at least a thousand and she had still noticed.
"Riley. What's the occasion?"
Riley sank down on the couch, his attention already riveted to the screen. He glanced back up at her, muttered something she didn't catch and immediately focused on the TV again.
"What was that?" She saw the pool of water quickly seeping into the couch, pulled him up by his arm.
"Riley. Go get on some warm clothes, you'll get a cold. I'll go put these in water."
They really were beautiful. A little crushed and sad, but still stunning. Where did he get them? She cut off an inch from the stems, put them in water and added a teaspoon of sugar, then stood back to admire the effect. The red tips blended smoothly into the pink, giving way to a bright orange before settling on a subdued yellow.
"They need a little loving," Riley said, sniffed as he entered the kitchen. Abigail turned angry eyes on him. He faltered visibly.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing, I just thought…" Riley looked down at his Converses, sighed. "This was a bad idea."
"Why? What happened?"
"I was going to come earlier, but my car wouldn't start. And it was raining."
He caught her eyes, grinned wryly, and started his story.
Riley Poole lay his forehead against the steering wheel of his beloved red Ferrari. He knew that he should have sent it into the shop yesterday. The battery was nearly dying and now it was… dead.
He was late. Now he would be later. He'd wanted to be there before two. It was now one forty-seven. He'd never make it in time now. He hadn't even bought the flowers. He didn't want to end up there empty-handed.
He swung out of the car, cursing himself for not sending the car in. Now it was Sunday and he'd only get his baby up and going in two days. He'd have to walk.
Is there a flower shop open somewhere? He'd planned on buying a big bouquet from the supermarket on the way, but he might have to take a shortcut and find a place along the way. He kicked at the sidewalk, accidently tripping himself up and stumbling. A girl on the other side of the road sniggered and some old lady called and asked if he was alright. He gave her a wave and a big fake grin, then swore at the cement.
The flower shop on the corner was closed. He'd expected it, but it soured his mood even more. He contemplated calling a taxi, but he hadn't taken enough money from his wallet and was sure as hell not turning around to get more. He'd never live down the humiliation if he turned around now.
So he continued on foot. A man on the other side of the street was carrying a bunch of flowers, and Riley had the urge to call out and ask him where he got it, then thought better of it.
Every damn shop was closed. He knew it, it was Sunday, what did he expect, but still… he'd have to walk all the way to the supermarket and buy from there.
He'd walked about halfway when it started raining. He swore again – he'd left his umbrella in his car. It was coming down hard and soon he was soaked. He waited at a bus stop until it calmed down, but it was still quite drizzly. He hated rain. It made him unhappy and depressed.
The supermarket had nothing interesting. He must have stood in front of that wall for half an hour. A teenage girl bought a bouquet of yellow roses and a man with two kiddies picked out a cheery bunch of tulips. Riley's uncertainty increased. Am I doing the right thing? Who buys flowers for a woman who's not his mother, his sister or someone he's trying to woo?
The boy behind the counter was starting to give Riley queer looks, so he left empty handed.
For a while he sat on a bench staring at the raindrops. A crow cawed somewhere in a tree.
"What, you want to eat me?" Riley called to it. The bird cocked a head, swooped down to the grass. Riley stared it down. The bird hopped closer.
"I got nothing," Riley said to it. The bird cawed again and came even closer.
"I said, I got nothing, and if you even think of pecking at me I'll kick you dead."
When the bird was close enough to actually attack his shoe, he stood up suddenly, scaring the bird and making at flap angrily and caw at him as it rose into the air. Riley watched it circle above him, then felt something plop onto his black hoodie. He freaked out with disgust and swore creatively at the bird. A small family with their shopping stopped at stared at him as he started to pick up stones and fling them up into the air. The bird circled and cackled at him. Riley stomped like a three-year-old, sent the family a filthy look and started away.
He didn't want to arrive at Abigail's without anything. He knew what she was going through, his mother had passed away a few years ago from cancer, and every Mother's Day was a sad, angry day. He missed her. He wanted to see her again, hear her voice in his ear as she hugged him, whispering that she loved him. A tear pricked at the corner of his eye and he swiped at it angrily.
His shoes were muddy from the grass he's stomped on. He was wet, covered in bird crap and unhappy.
Something caught his eyes. A woman in her forties was cutting a bunch of roses from her garden. They were a strange color, red and pink and yellow and orange. She saw him staring and smiled. He made up his mind.
He smiled back, waved and crossed the road. The woman straightened up at his approach, still smiling.
"Hi," Riley said.
"Hello." The woman had a strange, amused smile that intrigued him. But he'd gone blank. He looked down at the roses she held and her old, well-used gardening gloves.
"Those… those are some interesting-looking roses."
"Yes," the woman said, smiled down at them. "They're African… some strange foreign name that slips my mind now."
"Oh," Riley said. He saw her giving him a curious look and a glance at his white shoulder. "Um… I was attacked by a bird."
"Ah," the woman said, as if it explained everything.
"Um…" Riley stated, not sure how to continue. "I have a problem and I hope you can help me. I need to buy someone flowers."
"Oh. Someone forgot a Mother's Day gift?" she said, her eyes holding a slight scold.
"Something like that. Would you… um, would you consider selling me those?"
She frowned, instinctively gripping her roses closer.
"Please. I'm desperate." Riley groped into his back pocket, pulled out some cash. The woman frowned again.
"I'm not sure… how do I know you're not one of those conmen who prey on women like me?"
Riley stared for a few seconds, then laughed.
"Here, I got identification. Maybe you've heard of me?"
The woman took his offered driving license, holding it away so she could take a good look.
"Riley Poole? No… I can't say I do."
Riley's face fell visibly.
"I… I wrote a book. My friend Ben Gates-"
"Ben Gates? You mean the man who discovered the City of Gold and the Templar Treasure?"
Riley's face fell even more.
"Yeah. The flowers are for his girlfriend."
"Oh, you know him? Well, then, take the flowers. No charge, love."
She even wrapped them for him. Riley gave her a long thank-you, then walked around the corner before he flung the flowers to the ground. She's afraid of conmen, then she gives someone who claims to know Ben Gates a bunch of flowers? What a weirdo.
He stared at the flowers, aware of what he's done, then scooped them up in his arms and cradled them lovingly. He had flowers. Perfect flowers. Crushed flowers. Damn.
And enough money for taxi fare. If they allowed him into one looking like this.
Abigail was silent. Riley panicked. Even though he'd left the no-charge part out and elaborated on the exact size of the crow and its viciousness, he knew she wouldn't be impressed.
"Sorry," he added. Abigail turned her eyes to him.
"Riley, you shouldn't have gone through all that trouble to get me some flowers. It's not even my birthday."
Riley sighed, sat down on a kitchen stool.
"It's Mother's Day," he said softly. "You give your mom yellow flowers, your sister pink ones, and someone you love red ones. I didn't know which to get you, so I got all three."
"Riley…" Abigail paused, then wrapped her arms around Riley's shoulders. "Thank you."
Riley was silent. He put a hand on her arm. For a while they just stayed like that, both taking comfort in the fact that they weren't alone.
"Is that America's Got Talent?" Riley said, jerking his head to the sound of the TV in the other room and accidently knocking Abigail's chin with his head.
"Rerun," she stated as she rubbed her chin. Riley flew into the living room and landed on the couch.
"Popcorn's cold," Riley complained as Abigail joined him, shoving him onto the wet patch he created.
"Deal with it," Abigail retorted and settled into the show.
Ben unlocked the front door, stepped into the hall to fling his jacket onto a coat stand. My mom loves me, he smiled to himself.
The TV in the living room was on, and he called to Abigail that he was home.
There was no response.
Ben carefully snuck into the living room, trying not to wake her. She was an exceptionally light sleeper. Unlike someone else he knew.
Surprise crossed his face when he saw the sight on the couch. Riley was sprawled across it, his head in Abigail's lap and Abigail was curled up in the corner, her hand resting on Riley's chest.
Ben smiled, shook his head. Carefully, he removed Abigail's hand and lifted Riley into his arms. Abigail opened her eyes.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Taking him upstairs. He gets backache from sleeping on this couch. If I don't, we'll never hear the end of it tomorrow."
"Why don't you just wake him?"
Abigail received a look from Ben.
"Be my guest."
Abigail blinked the rest of her nap away as she watched her love take his friend upstairs.
She felt better. Her Mother's Day depression was gone.
If there are any contextual mistakes in this, I'm sorry. I'm not American – I don't know details, I'm just guessing. Hope you liked it though! Now press that little button… it'll be quick and painless!