Rated M for brief sexual content and most likely internal monologue swearing. Lots of it.
Title also taken from TLC's Red Light Special.

---

The idea of dating a dad had been really strange at first.  But, as it turned out, Callie wasn’t the most heinous child she’d ever come across (that honor would always go to her nephew, Eli, in the most adoring way possible) and Nate was pretty normal outside of the fact that he had another human to take care of and raise or whatever.  But this weekend, he didn’t have to worry about it. 

Callie (and Princess Grandma) were with his exes parents for the weekend.  So, even though it was only four in the afternoon, and even though it was definitely a night she should have been going to work, Margo and Nate had taken advantage of the lack of little person around to start early. 

A couple of beers in and the afternoon had shaped up quite nicely.  One thing had led to another: leather jacket had been discarded to the back of the couch early on and shortly after her tank top (and his shirt) had found real estate somewhere on the floor.  She did too, actually.  Finally having found a comfortable position on the floor that accommodated the task at hand (or mouth, rather) and her bad knee. 

She hardly noticed any discomfort though. 

She also didn’t notice that at some point during the most fun afternoon she’d had in a while there was the sound of the lock turning.  Nor did she notice the sound of the door opening.  Nor footsteps in the entryway. 

It was only when a woman’s very clear voice announced, ”Oh honey, get that out of your mouth. We brought food,” that Margo froze, nails digging into the skin of thigh before she pulled back with a tiny pop that she swore echoed through the entire tiny fucking cottage.

And she was mortified by it.  What was this?  It struck her, immediately, that it was something she thought she didn’t feel anymore: shame. 

Nate didn't usually get a full weekend without his daughter-- but his in laws had been badgering him about keeping her for a few days and spending quality time with her. It was likely that she would be coming home on Sunday with new outfits and a sugar buzz. He took the opportunity to invite company over. Namely, Margo. After a beer and lighting up, he was in a great place-- feeling all warm and wavy. It made real life feel like a dream-- and with Margo, it was the best dream ever.

Nate had been completely, blissfully unaware of the door opening. After all, he had locked it to ward off unwelcome Radleys.

"Oh honey, get that out of your mouth. We brought food”

Oh fuck no.

He made the most horrible, humiliating eye contact with his mother who was currently carrying luggage and a bag of food. Clearly they still didn't know how to knock. Or how to send letters to warn him of their visit. 

"Mom." Nate choked out in a  half-laugh, covering himself with a decorative sasquatch pillow. A pillow his parents had gifted to him for Christmas.

"Who is this?" She asked cheerily, making her way into the kitchen. Nate's father followed her in, closing the door behind him.

"A new friend, I see." He said, winking at Margo before following his wife into the kitchen. Their luggage was now sprawled all over the living room.

Nate looked down at Margo, horrified. "What the fuck." he mouthed to her. Then, out loud. "I'm so sorry--" He stood up, his head floating and thoughts whirling. Before helping Margo get to his feet, he pulled his boxers back on. "They--" Nate pulled his shirt off the floor, "Last I checked they were in America."

"Baby boy, are you going to invite her for dinner?" his mom called out,
"She already got her appetizer after all--" his parents erupted into laughter. God, Nate hated them right now.

Margo looked helplessly up at Nate as he grabbed a heinous throw pillow to cover himself.  Mom.

Nope.  Not okay. Margo didn’t meet parents.  The only reason any of her exes parents had ever seen her was because she hadn’t had a choice when they were introduced… as children.  Anyone who wasn’t part of the circle her parents travelled in, she just avoided.  It wasn’t too hard, given the casual nature of every relationship she’d ever been in.

So, this unplanned foray into completely new territory was unwelcome, to say the least.  Plus, she was stuck on the floor and staring up into the repetitive pattern of a sasquatch while the feminine voice from before chirped again, ”Who is this?” 

What was her name again?  She completely lost it.  Turning her head slowly, mouth still (regretfully) hanging open, Margo didn’t know what compelled her to want to see.  The wink she was greeted with – a hot flush washing over her entire body – did not help.  The dragon tattoo on her shoulder slithered into the periphery of her vision and she watched the curve of its neck coil, right into the crook of her neck. 

Apparently her tattoo was just as embarrassed as she was.  She echoed his silent sentiment of “what the fuck?!” and dug her nails into his leg again.  This was not okay.  “Well they aren’t in America now!” she hissed nice and low so only he could hear her.  This was horrible.  Absolutely horrible.

He at least helped her up, since she couldn’t do that for herself and she sheepishly grabbed her shirt from the floor, tugging it on (inside out at first).  Her whole face was hot and red, and not in a good way.  She was also super uncomfortable.  “Should I go?” she added in a whisper to Nate, moving around the couch to grab her jacket if that was the case. 

“I don’t want to intrude,” she said louder, with an awkward laugh.  Margo did not know how to do this, at all.  “I should really get going…  Let you all catch up!" She tried to tug on her jacket, but being flustered didn't do much for her and she wasn't even sure they were listening to her since they were hysterical about something.  Oh Merlin. She looked pleadingly at Nate, this was not her strong suit.

In less than five minutes, his parents had made a mess of his living room, humiliated him, and by the smell wafting from the kitchen, were helping themselves to his gillyweed. Great. They weren't the most sensible people sober. At least Nate didn't have to pretend like he wasn't high around them.

"Yeah, I noticed they're not in America too!" Nate couldn't cut the irritation out of his voice-- though it was directed towards the unwanted company more than it was towards Margo. "They're supposed to be hanging out with sasquatches. Not getting stoned in my kitchen!"

He pulled his shirt off the floor and tugged it on.

The last thing Margo wanted to do was stay here and have an awkward dinner with him and his parents. That was the last thing he wanted, too. He took a few steps towards the door to let her out when his mother burst into the room.

"You can't leave! I don't even know you yet!" She ran up to Margo and swooped her into a hug. "Perry's making quinoa."

Clearly, there was something tragic going on in this cottage.  The day had started so well.  She should have known it couldn’t keep up.  “Well clearly, they’re not!” Margo took a deep breath – oh they were definitely getting stoned.  Margo wasn’t the biggest fan of gillyweed, she vastly preferred alcohol, but she wouldn’t begrudge anyone the option.

It just made things so much more awkward.  She was in his house. With his parents. Who were smoking in the kitchen.  And cooking.  It was a lot to process all at once, especially in the haze of alcohol and adult activities that had been cut woefully short, leaving both of the (she assumed) uncomfortable and dissatisfied.  “I gotta go,” she whispered harshly in return to Nate’s sharpness and took another few steps back toward the door. 

But, all of a sudden, without a warning, Margo was swept up into a hug that she did not intend to have. 

This was horrible.  What was even quinoa?  That sounded terrifying. 

Looking over the woman’s shoulder, Margo’s face was pained and she awkwardly patted the woman’s back, hoping to be released.  “Not much to know!” she gasped out as her arms squeezed tighter around her.  She felt her full weight settle back on her feet (it had just struck her that his mother had lifted her in the hug), “I’m just his friend… Margo… who needs to… make sure she shut her… lights off…”  Weakest excuse ever.  But it was one, and she tried to grin as wide as possible to make it more believable.   Fuck me.

"Food's ready!" Perry called out from the kitchen.

For it to happen that quickly, Nate suspected that they came into his home with everything ready. Of course. He gave Margo an apologetic look. She was in his mothers arms now-- there was no escape. Something Margo would learn if she hadn't already, was that you don't just say 'no' to Margaret Hawke.

"Just his friend?" His mother laughed, "His very good friend then." Molly herded Margo into the kitchen. Defeated, Nate followed.

On the kitchen table, there were four plates set up with four beers next to them. Looks like his parents found gillyweed and the alcohol. Great.

Nate took a seat and glanced at the meal. He saw some quinoa, roasted garlic, spinach, tomatoes, and chunks of smoked salmon. It was probably all organic and fair trade, whatever that meant. His parents were hippie filth. "Looks delicious." He said, totally enthusiastically. His parents took the opportunity to hug him from both sides, squishing his face with their's. A horrible Hawke sandwich.

"Ma!" Nate protested, "Dad!"

They released him from their grip and took their seats.

"What's your name?" Peregrin looked at Margo, "You look like his type."

"It's Margo, honey--" Molly repled before Margo could answer.

"Margo." Per repeated, "What do you do?"

Nate looked like he sorely wanted to choke on his quinoa and die.

Margo was ensnared, like a bat in an acromantula web.  Maybe there would be a swift, heavy dose of poison in this web too.  Margo could only hope.

Helplessly ushered back, further into the cottage and away from the door, Margo took a moment to try and indentify the single moment her life had altered beyond recognition.  The ice cream shop.[1]   That was when it happened.  That was when Margo Amherst ceased to exist as she previously knew herself.  Clearly, the alteration had led her somewhere down a path that involved meeting your current… things parents with his a cock in her mouth… literally. And now here she was, blasted back into the moment where she crossed the threshold between rooms and was suddenly transported back into the moment. 

It was where her eyes settled on it.  What it was in the plate with the recognizable things… like little brownish transparent-ish rice.  Margo looked nervously at Nate before noticing the most comforting thing she could have seen on a table: beer. 

Being pushed into the seat, she could at least take a swig before forcing a smile, “Yeh! Great!” weakly shrugging and tensing (hoping there was no hug sandwich for her) before her eyes turned back on the plate.  This was…. Different.  Not a single element was fried.  How did these people live?  Oh right… with sasquatches who grunted and hoot’d like bloody furry owls.  (She wasn’t bitter about her failure to learn any useful phrases… at all). 

Picking up her fork, she pushed around some of the food – hooking her fork into some tomatoes. Those were familiar.  They tasted okay too… even if the weird quinoa (she assumed) was on them.  It was almost inoffensive.

Raising her eyes, mouth full of tomato, she was being addressed.  Her brown eyes widened further: his type?  She raised an eyebrow at Nate, obviously she knew about Jillian – that’d be fucked if she didn’t – but Merlin.

Swallowing hard, Margo took another swig of beer before smacking her lips.  That was probably rude.  Too late.  “I uh…” her eyes darted nervously toward Nate before back to his dad: the truth will set you free floated through her mind, You can get out of this.

“I own a bar,” she sat up a little taller, “Death & Co in Diagon Alley.  Used to work with dragons but,” she held up her hand and flexed the metallic fingers – a relatively new skill to be able to wiggle more than one in more than one direction at a time!  “This isn’t from the dragons though,” she corrected, “lost the hand in an explosion – leg to the dragons though.”  Freak them out and the door would open.  “Nate mentioned you study sasquatches?”  The green bits looked like spinach and Margo could tolerate that too – chewing cautiously as she looked expectantly, hoping for her dismissal. 

1.	Just Desserts

Nate's parents seemed completely engrossed in everything and anything Margo had to say. Perry let out an impressed noise at the artificial hand. It was an amazing piece of work, it probably took the healer forever to make it... And it was taking Margo twice as long to get used to it.

He took a sip of his beer-- if you could call it a sip. It was more like he chugged half the bottle in his panic.

"A bar!" Perry exclaimed, "I love bars!"

Molly patted her husband's arm affectionately, "Of course you do." She gave Margo a knowing look, "Sasquatches don't have bars, you know. It feels more like we live with them than work with them."  Why did Margo need to know this information? It was totally unnecessary and inane. Why did Nate's mother insist on making some sort of connection with his... Whatever Margo was. More than friends, less than his girlfriend. Not really a fuckbuddy either.

"You worked with dragons? So you knew Jillian then?" Molly took a bite of tomato. "So you decided then, it was a good idea to sleep with your dead coworker's husband."  She didn't sound upset, just a bit floaty and cheerful.

At this, Nate finished his beer and grabbed another one. He was too high to deal with this bullshit. His thoughts whirling sleepily through his head.

Margo had thought… based on what she knew, that his parents might care if she was always about four seconds away from dying. Most parents who had their son become a widower would probably send her packing.  But nooo his dad loved bars! Of course he did.  Why wouldn’t he? Bars were amazing.

She led with a bad example. 

She had to try harder. 

But how?  More drinking! That always led to bad choices.  That meant it was a good choice right now.  When her bottle was almost empty (a bad sign), she readjusted her focus on his mom – whose name she did not know and blinked.  Of course they wouldn’t have bars… “Sounds miserable,” she looked at his dad sympathetically, “Couldn’t live without a good pub… not even in the mountains of Romania,” she added.  She could paint the picture of a person with an alcohol problem without even lying!  How convenient. 

It was short lived though.  His mum went in for the jugular.  She was just like the Ironbelly who had taken her leg.  But scarier.  This had no escape.  She also probably wouldn’t die.  What a tragedy. 

She brought up Jillian.  Fuck me, she thought again and swallowed hard.  The rest of the bottle was gone in the next sip.  “Well, I mean,  yeh, I knew Jillian – but not,” she jerked her head toward Nate who seemed lost in his own thoughts as she slurred.  She sort of wished she had taken a hit or two when offered before.  Hindsight, 20/20. 

“We just uh… met up recently,” she glanced over, “maybe grab me one too…” she called out weakly before returning her nervous gaze to his mother.  Margo was suspicious but she didn’t seem perturbed.  Just curious.  That made Margo even more suspicious.  “Like you said, type, eh?” she laughed and cleared her throat again, waiting for that beer very impatiently.  “How did uh…  you two meet?” Margo didn’t know if that was a cool question to ask. 

She just didn’t want to talk anymore and maybe the story was weird (it was definitely weird by the looks of it).  She could use a laugh.  And that other beer.  Nate needed to hurry up and stop stalling at the fridge. 

The fridge felt cold and comforting. All Nate wanted to do was crawl into it and drink all the beer and containers of apple juice. He was contemplating whether or not that was a feasible option when he realized Margo had asked for another beer. Oh. How long ago was that?

With a shrug, Nate pulled out an entire six pack and dropped it unceremoniously onto the table. He opened a bottle for himself and one for Margo before finally taking a seat again.  He looked from his parents to Margo and back again. What were they talking about? He bobbed his head in what was almost a nod as if he'd been listening the entire time.

Perry's blue eyes brightened at the question of how they met. "Well, Molly here and I met at a house party." He took a bite of quinoa, followed by a swig of beer. "Ah, this pairs nicely-- anyway.. Have you heard of a swinger's party? Well, we were seeing other people at the time...." Per looked out into the distance dramatically. The problem with this scenario was, the distance was just Nate's kitchen wall. "The theme was 'Founding Goblins.' America's founding fathers... Meets goblins."

Nate's eyes met Margo's, horrified. "Dad--"

But Perry didn't give a fuck. "We weren't dressed like goblins, of course. There was just goblin decor, everywhere. I wore a powdered wig. I told her to be the Maria Reynolds to my Alexander Hamilton. We've been together ever since."

Molly nodded in agreement, "We still go to those parties though--"

"OH MY GOD!" Nate blurted out, "What's WRONG with you guys?!"

Instead of feeling any semblance of shame, the Hawke Swingers cackled in amusement at their son's tortured expression.

It was official, Margo could not win.  There was absolutely no way to horrify, startle, or scare off these two.  It was like she was watching the whole thing happen outside of her body, honestly.  She could see herself, just staring as the story went on. 

And on.

The details really made time slow down.  So many details.   (Some of which she was glad she didn’t know a lot of what he was saying – though goblins were familiar, which made her shudder). So many things Margo did not need to know about the people sitting in front of her.  That she was pretty sure Nate also didn’t need to know.

When he locked eyes with her, it occurred that he probably already knew.  That, somehow, was able to make this even weirder.  She was glad Nate had already opened her beer for her: a faster, larger sip than necessary flowed. 

Margo gulped it down and just turned her head back to the father, pretending to have been listening and nodding with apprehension. At least his mum added her two cents before Margo had to lie and say how nice of a story that was. 

Though, it did cross her mind that even if she was truthful and told them how fucked she thought that was, they’d probably take it as a compliment or something.  The logic made sense to her.  It was almost like they had a similar disregard for the feelings of others.  Margo found this strangely more terrifying.  That there were other people without shame in the world. 

This was confirmed, and the cause for sinking in her chair, as they responded to Nate’s horror and objections with laughter.  Flashbacks, like the second war survivors in the Janus-Thickey Ward must have hit her because she swore she was transported to a moment where it was her on the cackling end of two very uncomfortable humans. 

Was this some kind of divine, worldly reminder of how awful she was on a regular basis?  Didn’t the universe already know that? 

She took the opportunity to, rather than say anything, stuff her face.  She could avoid talking with her mouthful for a short while.  Pretend she had manners, or something.  Of course, that would have gone spectacularly better if she were actually able to chew the bite she had put in her mouth.  Instead, unlike earlier, she choked. 

It had been, what, a year since he last saw his parents-- and within the first hour they had gotten high, humiliated him, and then proceeded to tell the story of how they met in the most disturbing way possible. The worst part was, Nate knew that this was the clean version of their story. His exes had all heard the uncensored version. What they believed to be polite and sane was what a normal person would call disturbing. Even the likes of Margo Amherst noticed that-- and that was saying something.

When it was clear that Margo was legitimately choking, and his parents were still laughing, Nate took action as quickly as one could when your limbs felt heavy and barely-attached to your body. With a solid pat to her back, Margo was in the clear. "You okay?" he asked, immediately knowing that physically she was fine, but her psyche would never recover.

"So, did you break up with Cepheus then?" Molly asked, "You two were cute--"

"But you two--" Perry motioned between Margo and Nate, "Are cuter."

There were too many assumptions that Nate needed to process.

"Wait, what now?" Nate glanced at Margo as if he needed confirmation that they were hearing the same thing.

After the swift pat to the back, Margo tried to be as polite as possible and the offensive limp that had clogged up her throat was deposited into a napkin.  Thankfully, his parents didn’t seem to notice – they were too busy laughing, still about the orgy? Swinger’s party?  What was it?  She needed another drink.

The faster she could even forget that had come up, the better.  After she sipped her beer, you know, to wash away the choking, she nodded with reddened eyes at Nate’s question, “M’okay,” she slurred quietly, raising her eyebrows at him.  This was weird.  And something she would have expected like… ten years ago.  Certainly not now.  At their age this had to be a joke.  Someone had to be standing by with a camera, somewhere to catch this.    If it weren’t permanently edged into their minds, it would have to exist on film forever.

Her head turned slowly though as the conversation continued and her mouth dropped open a little.  They started throwing around curse words – cute.  Oh Merlin.  Margo never would have applied the word cute to what they had seen.  Nate seemed just as perplexed. 

He looked at her for something – maybe affirmation, maybe relief.  She couldn’t provide either of those things, but she could clear her throat and lean forward on the table, looking to the parents of her current… something, “Is cute really the word you’re looking for?” 

"Oh? Cute isn't the right word for you?" Molly teased, "Is destined the one you were looking for? Well, I have more sense than to throw that word around before getting to know you." 

The look on Nate's dad's face got pensive. Too pensive.

"So, if you didn't break up with Cepheus... Then you three are in a relationship then?" Perry asked, his tone innocent but his eyes full of malevolence.

Nate let out a strangled noise. He was making that noise a lot today.

"There's no judgement here!" Molly interjected, "We once slept with a vice president and his mistress."  There was a 90% chance that was a straight up lie, but Nate didn't have the energy or the mental capacity to argue that at the moment. His mind was still reeling. How did he get here, at the point in his life where his parents would assume that he was in some sort of freaky three-way polygamous relationship with his best friend and Margo? What horrible, carnal sins did he commit?

His mom continued on, "We suspected you were that way with Jill..."

What was going on in this house? 

How had a day that began with so much promise devolved into this? 

Now there was talk of destiny and then Cepheus and a three-way relationship.  Margo liked Ceph well enough, but… the way she balked could have answered for them, but it was apparent that his mother (whose name Margo still didn’t know) had more to say. 

More things Margo didn’t need to know. 

Was one, middle of the living room, daytime hookup enough to ruin her life forever?  The answer seemed to be a resounding yes from all corners of the universe.  Margo swore she could hear people laughing at her, as though they were watching this unfold and just waiting for the next shoe to drop (clearly it was a centipede’s shoes falling from the sky). 

More beer.  More beer was always the answer.  Until it was gone.  Then she stared longingly at the six pack in the middle of the table.  Was it rude to take another?  Did she care?  These were the real questions she had to ask herself.  Turned out the answer to both was no. 

She took her… well… she had lost count of how many by now, sitting comfortably in a haze of a buzz and cracked it open.  She wished instead of weird quinoa she was eating popcorn.  That seemed more suitable to the circus that this had become.  “Nah, Jillian wasn’t much of a sharer,” Margo finally commented after a sip of beer.  She had lost her will to fight against this.  If her world was going to go up in flames, she’d be fanning them the entire way, “one of the many, many traits we have in common, right?”