Vanessa outdoes herself for dinner, transforming Fisk's usually austere dining room into something both elegant and intimate. Emma arrives precisely on time, her white dress a perfect complement to my dark suit.
'You look perfect,' she sends mentally, though I catch her slight nervousness beneath her composed exterior.
'Relax,' I reply through our link, taking her hand. 'It's just dinner.'
'With your father and his girlfriend, who's apparently appointed herself my future mother-in-law,' Emma counters, but settles at my touch.
Vanessa greets us with genuine warmth, while Fisk maintains his usual dignified presence. The table settings could put five-star restaurants to shame.
"Now," Vanessa begins once we're seated, "tell me everything about how this really started. And Emma, dear, don't let him downplay anything."
"Actually," I intercede smoothly, "maybe we could discuss something other than our relationship? The media's been doing enough of that."
Emma sends grateful appreciation through our link - she's not used to family dinners or maternal attention, and while she appreciates it, it's overwhelming.
"Of course," Vanessa acquiesces gracefully. "Though you can't blame a mother for being curious."
The conversation flows easier after that, ranging from team dynamics to future projects. Vanessa proves to be surprisingly knowledgeable about enhanced individuals, while Fisk occasionally adds insights about the political landscape.
"The Ultimates' public approval is at an all-time high," Fisk notes. "Your relationship has, unexpectedly, humanized the team."
"Speaking of the team," Vanessa adds, "how is Dr. Banner adjusting?"
"Better than expected," I reply, feeling Emma's amusement at the memory of this morning's training session. "Though the Other Guy still wants to plan our wedding."
"The Hulk has good taste," Vanessa says with a slight smile. "Though perhaps we should focus on the gala first."
"Gala?" Emma asks, her mental presence sharpening with interest despite my warning look.
"Just a small gathering," Vanessa assures, though her expression suggests otherwise. "To properly introduce you both to New York society. As a couple."
"Vanessa," I start, my tone carrying gentle authority, "we talked about this."
"Just consider it," she counters smoothly. "After all, you'll need to manage your public image somehow. Better on our terms than theirs."
Through our link, Emma sends: 'She has a point.'
"Not helping," I return, though I can't help but smile at her mental shrug.
"Very well," I concede, noting Vanessa's pleased expression. "A small gathering. But we set the terms."
"Of course," she agrees too quickly, sharing a look with Emma that makes me suspicious.
"A very small gathering," I emphasize, catching Emma's mental amusement at my attempt to maintain control of the situation.
Fisk observes this exchange with what might be humor in his eyes. "I find it's easier to let Vanessa handle these matters. Within reason, of course."
"Within reason being the operative phrase," I reply, giving Emma a pointed look as she tries to mentally browse through potential guest lists with Vanessa.
The dinner continues, and I notice how naturally Emma fits into this strange family dynamic we've created. Her usual ice-queen persona melts slightly under Vanessa's genuine warmth, though she maintains that regal bearing I've come to admire.
"The media's been surprisingly manageable," Fisk notes, changing subjects. "Though certain reporters are becoming... persistent."
"They can try," Emma states, her tone carrying that familiar edge.
"No mentally redirecting journalists," I remind her, though my voice holds affection.
"Not even the ones who keep calling me a cradle robber?"
"Okay, maybe those ones."
"Emma, dear," Vanessa asks during dessert, "what does your family think of all this?"
The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees. Through our link, I feel Emma's mental walls slam up - a reflexive defense mechanism.
"They..." Emma starts, her composure perfect but brittle. "They're not in the picture."
I reach for her hand under the table, offering silent support. Her family is a topic we rarely discuss, for good reason.
"I see," Vanessa says softly, her perceptiveness catching the weight behind those words. "Well, their loss is our gain."
"Though speaking of family," I interject, deliberately steering the conversation away from dangerous waters, "Thor's still insisting on some kind of Asgardian blessing ceremony."
"Absolutely not," Emma latches onto the change of subject, her mental presence gradually relaxing. "The last thing we need is thunder gods performing rituals over our relationship."
"I don't know," Vanessa muses, playing along with the lighter topic. "An Asgardian ceremony could be quite spectacular."
"Please don't encourage them," I groan. "Loki's already offered to enchant the entire tower for some kind of celestial light show."
Through our link, Emma's gratitude flows freely - both for the subject change and the understanding.
Some wounds take time to heal. But maybe, just maybe, new family can help with that.
As the evening winds down, Vanessa pulls Emma aside while Fisk discusses some business matters with me. Through our link, I catch fragments of their conversation - Vanessa offering not just acceptance, but a genuine place in this unconventional family we're building.
"Your mother would be a fool not to be proud of you," Vanessa's words carry to me. "But know that you have a home here, dear. Not just because of Samael."
Emma's mental presence wavers with emotion she'd never show publicly, and I pretend not to notice the slight glisten in her eyes when she returns to my side.
Later, as we head back to our respective floors, Emma's mental voice carries a mix of vulnerability and strength.
'Thank you,' she sends. 'For understanding. For not pushing.'
'That's what family does,' I reply simply, pulling her closer. 'The real kind, anyway.'
She looks up at me, her usual perfect composure softened by the evening's events. "I suppose I'll have to get used to Vanessa's maternal instincts."
"And Thor's blessings, and Stark's teasing, and Banner's betting pools..." I add, making her smile.
"Your family is insane," she states.
"Our family," I correct gently but firmly. "Better get used to it."
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I know this chapter is extremely short, but I hope you all enjoyed it.
Next chapter we'll have the party.
Do look forward to that.
Also, do tell me how you find the Fisk family? I still have trouble writing Fisk well, since, he's both supposed to still be a crime boss while his affection should still be genuine.
Vanessa herself is one I'm making up along the way, since I know very little of her, so she may be very OOC.
So yeah, I hope you all enjoyed and I hope to see you all later.
Do again, please review, cause if you do, chapters will keep coming.
See you all later,
Bye!)