Disclaimer: Nobody's mine... yet... there may be a few original characters showing up, so... yeah.
Rating: PG-13 to be on the safe side.
Spoilers: Everything is fair game. Seasons 1-4. Especially Luke Can See Her Face, Last Week Fights, This Week Tights, and Raincoats and Recipes.
A/N: Thanks to Lydia for giving me the proverbial crack to write this. Are you sick of post R&R fic? Really? Huh. I don't care. No, seriously, I don't care. Get it? Got it? Good.
Prologue: When Mama Comes A'Knockin'...
Elizabeth Danes-Adison sighed. She was standing in the middle of her son's one-room apartment. It was filthy, small, cluttered, and it smelled like rotten eggs on a stale bagel.
And Liz would know! She'd eaten that before...oh, stop making that face, it was on a dare. It was either that, or streak naked through the town square.
She sighed, exasperated with her exasperating son. He was so proud. "This place is a wreck, Jess. You can't live like this."
"I've been doing fine," Jess snapped.
"Fine, my ass," Liz countered. "Look at you! Look at that hair!"
It was true! His hair was long, now. Longer than he'd ever let it grow before, and Liz didn't like it. Not one bit. She missed his anal-retentive hair gel phase.
Jess ran a hand through his dark locks compulsively. "It's fine."
"Bull. And look at you!" Liz cried. She walked forward and poked him in the stomach. "You look like you haven't eaten in a week."
"I said I'm fine!" Jess yelled.
"Come home, Jess," Liz begged. "Please? You look terrible. This isn't good for you."
"What home?" Jess scoffed. "Do you even have our old apartment?"
"Of course I do!" Liz cried, a little shocked. "Don't use it much anymore, but it's still ours."
Jess nodded a little, plopped down onto his grotesque looking mattress, and picked up a book.
'Oh, no,' Liz thought defiantly. 'Not this time, Baby.' She walked over, snatched him by the ear, and dragged him to his feet.
"Come on, Sweetie," Liz smiled. "Time to go home." With that, she led him out the door.