#she’s supposed to be my rock solid healthy cat

[pangur-and-grim]

I am probably going to do a sale, bring back some retired designs or something, because I dropped nearly 4K on Grim’s multi-day hospitalization and now I’m about to do the same for Pangur.

[theramseyloft]

Beginner’s housing for a pet pigeon

We can go into the complexities involved in housing multiple pigeons at a later time.

Right now, we’re going to focus primarily on setting up for a single bird who is intended to be a companion animal.

The biggest problem you are going to run into is that the housing commercially available for birds is designed either to display a finch or a parrot.

Finch cages make excellent hospital cages for pigeons, but that is their only useful application.

A Hospital cage needs to be small to discourage the bird from moving around too much and doing anything other than eating and drinking, so that their recovery, be that from disease or injury, can progress with as few delays as possible.

A healthy bird cannot tolerate this degree of confinement for long.

Parrot cages are huge and expensive, but too narrow for a pigeon to be physically able to use.

The bare minimum requirements for any cage a pigeon will be housed in for more than an hour a day is that it be two inches wider than the full wingspan of the bird at the narrowest point, to allow their wings at least an inch of clearance on either side.

They are cliff nesters that don’t roost on branches. Round perches hurt their feet, so they need either flat platforms or square perches.

Pigeons cannot climb the way parrots can. They can only walk or fly, and they cannot comfortably fly if their wings will clip into things like hanging toys or ramps.

So they tend to prefer their enclosure be as uncluttered as possible.

Socialization is best done outside the enclosure, so that’s where most of the toys should be.

Dog kennels set up like this one above are kinder to both the pigeons and the wallets of their care taker than pretty much any indoor bird cage available.

A Labrador sized (usually marketed as a “Large”) kennel will fit bird about homer sized and smaller.

Larger breeds or breeds with longer flight and tail feathers will need a larger size as a base line.

These are very simple to modify.

The nest box is a bunny/ferret corner litter box, about $8-10 at most pet shops. Easy to clean and comfortable.

The perch is a garden stake cut to length, about $5 from the garden center at Walmart or a hardware store like Lowes or home Depot.

Honestly, if I had this to do over, the birds would get a wider, shallower food dish.

Pigeons are ground foragers. It’s easier for them to eat comfortably from a shallow dish than a deep one.

The water dish can be as deep as the pigeon can reach the bottom of.

This is the upper level of a ferret nation Double modified for my first breeding pair of Lucerne waaaay back before my loft was built, when I had a grand total of four breeding pair of pigeons and 16 pairs of Ringneck doves.

This one also has a garden steak cut to fit as a perch.

Their nest box is a large dog bowl full of timothy hay.

Notice that this enclosure has a single hanging bell toy exactly at standing head height for the birds, well out of the way of their wings.

This probably looks unbearably spartan, especially if you come form a parrot back ground.

Remember that pigeons cannot climb and will not fly in a space where their wings may bump into clutter.

The cage for an indoor pet pigeon should serve the same function as the kennel does for an indoor dog:

That is NOT where the dog lives!

At most, it’s where they sleep at night, and where a puppy stays when they can’t be supervised until they’ve learned the house rules.

Pigeons are absolutely smart enough to learn house rules just like a dog or cat.

And pet pigeons are happiest when they have the freedom of motion to exercise, play, and interact with their human flock mates at will.

While they can free fly an entire house, a single bedroom is enough space for most breeds to move around happily.

Pigeon proofing is pretty simple.

They aren’t capable of chewing like parrots, so no need to worry about your electrical chords being damaged and your bird giving them self a nasty shock.

They can’t damage wood or drywall or fabric by chewing.

Pigeons don’t eat plants, but do like the feel of ripping them and will use strips of leaves as nest bedding, so house plants may need to be protected by glass covers.

Things displayed on shelves in the room or rooms the pigeon will have access to need to be heavy enough or well enough wedged in that the bird can’t pull them down if they land awkwardly on them or push them off if they bump into or try to squeeze past them.

Papers need to be stored where they won’t be scattered by the wind that their powerful wings kick up in flight.

Any crevices too high or awkward for you to easily clean need to be blocked some how.

Poop is simple.

The poop of a well fed, healthy pigeon with a good diet should be round and solid enough that it can be easily picked up with a square of toilet paper or a tissue when wet or vacuumed up when dry.

Once you know your bird’s favorite perches, you can make clean up even easier on yourself by laying down puppy pads under them that you can just change out as often as needed.

Once a pigeon has mastered the house rules, you can do away with the cage entirely.

This is the feeding station we set up for Ankhou and Bird-bird.

On the little feed tray for cats were the feeder and waterer with oystershell offered free choice from a dish between them.

Pigeons are one of the very few animals that recognize their reflection in the mirror as a a reflected view of themselves, instead of another bird.

Most like to practice dancing, strutting, their sweeping charge, and bow-cooing in front of mirrors, so those are excellent enrichment for them.

Being cliff nesters, bricks are simply the most comfortable thing for a pigeon to stand on.

Strutting back and forth on the rough surface in front of a mirror will help them keep their claws blunted.

The bricks are holding down a crinkle sack for cats, laid out flat. 

Pigeons love noise stims. Particularly crinkly, jingly, or chiming.

The noise it made made dancing in front of the mirror extra fun on the crinkle mat.

The dead keyboard serves a similar function.

This beans box from Walmart full of straw served as Bird-Bird’s nest box.

She laid eggs fairly regularly, and slept in there most of the time.

Ankhou was a man of simple tastes. 

This baby doll blanket on the nightstand at my bedside was where he slept at night.

Social bird was social and wanted to be as close as possible to us at all times and involved somehow in everything we did.

Pigeons like to take baths, and our free flying pet liked to be offered the opportunity to take one when we showered, but did not like to actually be in the shower with us.

So we got him a little pyrex casserole dish about as long as he was that stayed on the side of the bathtub and made a habit of filling it for him before we got into the shower.

Anhkou didn’t care much for forage pans or puzzle toys, but many pigeons do and they are very simple to make.

A pan or tray with a few fists full of straw, paper strips, sand, or a mix of all three with a high value treat like Safflower seeds sprinkled in to find mimics the way rock doves would forage for seed in the wild.

Puzzle feeders for pigeons are as simple to make as crumpling a sheet of paper with a few high value seeds inside.

Pigeons love crinkly sounds and tugging on the crumpled paper or blowing it around by flapping at it will reward them with a few spilled seeds and a fun noise.

The little wicker balls for kitties with a jingle bell inside complete the holy trinity of stick-texture, shiny, and jingly, and many pigeons love to kick, peck, and toss them.

They like to pick up and shake and toss bread ties with a small jingle bell fastened to the end.

Bird-Bird’s favorite toy was the bell intended to go on a kittens collar. 

She liked to strut around with it holding it by the loop by which it was supposed to fasten and very softly jingling it.

Q-tips with the cotton tips removed and toothpicks with blunted or clipped ends are basically pigeon Legos.

Miniature wind chimes like this little angel and her harp are fun auditory stims too.

If you can swing it (ha!), pigeons enjoy swings, as long as the perch is flat.

Experiment with your birds and see what kind of enrichment they enjoy. ^v^

[abloomntime]

A Bloom In Time Ch16 Poppy’s Spaceship Tour And Meeting Cooking Cat P2

She was starting to feel MUCH better now! Honestly all the dirt and grim leaving her body was very relieving. She felt like a new woman! But there still was one problem. Cookie had been nice enough to take care of her clothes and wash them up for her. The problem was that there was rips and tears in the dress near the bottom making it look like someone took a weed wacker to the bottom of the once nice blue dress. Oh well. The important thing was that it was clean and so was she at last. Her wrist felt better as well. Cookie was also kind enough to look over Poppy's injury and thankfully no signs of swelling were there just some scrapes that could use a few bandaids. If she had to guess, it must've been whatever herbal bath the cat made for her, really did work like those healing herbs her mother used to grow, the pain had stopped by a bunch to where she could move it and grab things without feeling pain, and all that was left was a dull soreness like a bee sting. She also felt mentally better, as if a heavy rock was lifted off her back, which is why the smile on her face was placed there as she dried off her long hair.

"I knew there was a peach under that dirt," Cookie complimented as Poppy smiled and pulled the towel off her head, letting her still slightly wet hair fall down her back. "Now there. Such a pretty shade of red. Like a lovely rose."

"Oh please. You're too kind. It's nothing that's uncommon. You're actually very fairly pretty yourself!," Poppy complimented back which got a wave from Cookie.

"Believe it or not my fur color is actually a rare color where I'm from." She walked over to where Poppy stood holding up the heavy duty leather apron she usually wore when gardening now also cleaned as well.

"Oh really? Uh..Thank you." She grabbed the apron from Cookie with a smile.

She nodded. "Most of the cats where I'm from are all black or light grey. It's another reason I wanted to leave, I like being around people more colorful like me. But enough about me, what's it like where you're from?" That one sentence made Poppy fully stop folding the apron for a solid ten seconds, before that smile slowly turned back into a frown as she continued to fold the apron before slowly putting it under her arm silently. Cookie's look softening. "Oh. I'm sorry. I knew you said you-..Im sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"It's....ok. I-...I can't go back there anyways. I-It's...It's gone."

The cat placed a paw on her gently. "I know it ain't none of my business, but what happened?"

.......No. She didn't want to tell another person her burdens and sorrows, and reliving it again by talking about it so she sighed and shook her head. "It's...A-Actually gone. A...." What was she supposed to call being cursed for a thousand years before being woken up by accident? She settled on- "A v-very bad ...winter froze everything and destroyed it. A-As far as I know I'm the only one left alive to speak of it." True. After all that Snatcher fellow certainly wasn't alive after all being a ghost.

Cookie gave a small gasp, her paws coming to cover her mouth for a moment in shock. "Oh my goodness. You poor thing. Oh, no wonder you were so distressed."

"Thank you. B-But you don't really have to feel sorry for me. I'm...I'm still working it out, b-but I'm sure I'll be fine with his help."

"His? His who?"

"Snatcher. The ghost the children hang around with." Cookie gave her a look over confused as to why her answer was that making Poppy feel criticized. "...What?"

"Nothing. I'm just surprised that old ghosty's offered to be some kind of use instead of sitting on that pillow stack reading some kind of book complaining 'bout somethin' or stealing my bacon. But then again I don't know him too well, so it's awefully nice of him to offer his help to you. " Shaking her head she turned around towards the exit and motioned for Poppy to follow her. "C'mon now. Let's get you some food. I bet you're just starving."

"Yeah. Hungry.".....Cookie knew Snatcher. The thought made her look back up at Cookie who by now had stood back in the exit waiting patiently for her to come over and she did. "Hey. You met Snatcher before right? What's he usually like?"

She shrugged. "Like I said I don't know him all too well. Just that he steals food and acts like Conductor if Conductor was less yell-y and always had his nose stuck in a book all the time."

Poppy didn't know who Conductor was but she'd take Cookie's word for it. Pressing the red button on the side again, they ascended back up to the chilly storage room. From there the red head followed the small calico as she happily walked towards the ladder to climb back up it. Even though the hurt hand was better, Poppy thought she had better stay off it for the time being until all the soreness left it, so for now she'd have to climb the ladder and crawl through the small hallway painfully slowly like before....Which took a LONG time, but she was glad to get out of that chilly room none the less. And before she knew it, she was standing on the other side of that tiny hallway stretching her back out and sighing as she walk around normally for the most part now. The girls were there too, giggling as they watched a funny picture show on the tv showing a cartoon Moon Penguin chasing a mouse who stole it's fish, only for the penguin to trip over his own flippers and land face first into a pie randomly on the floor. Both girls giggling at the funny sight. Next to them were empty plates and forks obviously from whatever Cookie had made them. Said cat walked on over to the young girls who briefly looked up to her as she picked up the plates and patted each on the head before both young ladies turned back to their entertainment on screen.

Cookie gestured Poppy to follow her before turning to the ramp. "Come on. I'll show you where the kitchen is."

With that she turned and began her way back up the ramp, stepping over Rumbi casually sweeping a path down it. Poppy blinked, but followed none the less. She just hoped the kitchen wasn't a teeny space as well. Walking past the girls, they giggled again at something goofy the penguin did and she smiled at their adorable child giggles before walking past them and up the ramp, taking a GIANT step around Rumbi and giving the robot vacum cleaner a suspicious look before walking the rest of the way up there. As she walked, poppy glanced at everything she passes. The screen that had the number 1000 on it plus a picture of an hourglass, a giant vault that looked a lot like the bank's old vault, and then finally over to the two double doors which was to her relief and surprise her size. Pushing one of the door slowly opened, the lady slowly poked her head in. A rug of more blue gears under her feet.......and a surprisingly normal kitchen is what greeted her. A stove was in the far corner, with a sink, fridge, counter, cabinets and a shelf full of plates, cups, and other dishes. The kitchen was actually rather non-alien compared to the other rooms she's seen so far with the checkered floor, and soft blue walls. There was a few paintings on the wall and a small plant in the corner to add to the calm atmosphere. The only really strange thing about it would be the giant telescope sitting in the middle of the room. Cookie was busy putting the dirty dishes in the sink before she smiled from her place standing on a chair and turned back to Poppy.

"Well, don't be shy. Come on in and I'll grab you you're plate." Poppy did noticing there really wasn't any table to eat at as Cookie hopped off the chair with a small thud and walked on over to the fridge in the corner. Didn't look like the kind of fridge she had back when she was a kid. She watched in slight amazement as Cookie opened it and reached into one of shelves her height to pull out a small plate. "I hope you don't mind cold food."

"What is it?," she asked as Cookie walked over to her, closing the fridge with her foot holding the plate up.

"Just a drumstick and some mashed potatoes. Sorry if it's not enough. Those little tykes eat more than you think." The cat held the plate up to her and true to her word there was a small drumstick and mashed potatoes on it which Poppy graciously took.

"N-no. It's plenty. You've done more than enough for me. Thank you." OH GOSH. It smelt so good even though it was cold, her stomach rumbled again and in an instant her mouth watered. Forgetting about her thick leather apron, she let it drop to the ground in favor of grabbing that fork and eating....

....

.......HOLY PECK!!

It was delicious! The potatoes were so creamy and well smashed and put together! And she'd never tasted gravy quite like this before! It was delicious! It was...it was....a flavor she couldn't explain because she'd never tasted it before! And the bird...OH! The roasted bird was GLORIOUS!! She had bird before but never like this! It was tender yet juicy with bread crumbs and seasoning mixing in giving it that extra flavoring caused by spices. Cookie chuckled at the sight, already used to the reactions people had to her food by now and turned around to go back to the counter as Poppy ate with a happy hum and sparkly wide eyes to her heart's content. The growling in her stomach finally being cured from her dilema of being hungry. Cookie after a moment of standing on the chair again to get to the counter managed to fill up a glass of water before hopping off back onto the floor and walked her way over to the woman currently smiling at the food and stopped mid bite at the cat's chuckling.

"My, my. Such a healthy appetite."

Poppy immediately straightened up and gave a sheepish smile. "Um..S-Sorry. I guess I was just so hungry. And this is SO good! I've never tasted anything like it."

She chuckled again holding up the water to her. "I'm glad you think so. Here. Take this. You'll be needing something to wash it down with."

"Oh. Thank you." As she bent down to take the water, Cookie symaltaniously took the plate that was nothing but crumbs and a drumstick bone by now and made a turn to go back to the sink. "Y-You're a really good cook. I'm surprised no one ever gave you a job before."

She shrugged hopping back up to the counter and sink, placing the dirty dishes within. "I'll take all of that as a compliment, and no need to thank me, Sugar. I'm always happy to hear such nice words for my simple dishes......OH!! I nearly forgot!" She turned back to Poppy. "I think I found something of yours." Reaching her paw into a pocket, Cookie pulled out a shiny golden bracelet that got Poppy's eyes widening and she briefly choked on her water. "It fell out of one of your apron pocket's all dirty like. So I cleaned it up for ya."

"M-My bracelet!" In an instant Poppy rushed over, glass cup abandoned on the counter in favor for her to latch both hands around the bracelet and look at it. Her reflection staring back up at her in wonder before looking back at Poppy. "Y-Yes. It is. T-Thank you."

The cat smiled and went to answer-

DING!! DING!! DING!!

Poppy jumped and both turned their heads to a wall plastered onto the far side of the wall singing as the start of a new hour had begun and Cookie gave a small gasp to the time. "Oh goodness! Eight already? Oh no. I must've lost track of time." With a quick jump from the chair, the cat paddled her way over towards the kitchen doors. Poppy blinked but followed non the less as she still muttered. "Silly me. Count on me to forget things so easily. Muriel's going to be so worried about me the poor sugarcude." She muttered to herself as she exited the doors making both children below pause from their current cartoon and look up towards the two ladies exiting the kitchen.

"D-Does that mean you're leaving?," Poppy asked behind her.

Cookie momentarily stopped and turned to give her an apologetic look. "I'm afraid so. I'm really sorry to leave so sudden like this, but I have to get up real early if I wanna make it to my breakfast cooking show tomorrow and I have a gal at home who won't sleep unless I tell her to. And I need some kind of sleep tonight-"

Poppy held up her hands. "No, no. It's perfectly fine. You must be busy being a mother and having a job. My mother was the same way."

"So understanding. Than you so much."

"Oh w-wait a minute." Poppy looked back over to the window and outerspace behind it. "H-How are you doing to get home? Are they going to teleport you with their magic umbrellas?"

Cookie gave a laugh and shook her head. "No need." Her paw reached over to her sleeve to pull it down and reveal a watch?? "I can use my teleporter to go back to Mr. Grooves's moon studio and catch a bus back to the planet."

"Are you leaving now?," Bow stood up yawning and looked up at the cat who continued down the ramp and gave a sad smile to the two children.

"Yes. I'm afraid so, Honeypie. But don't worry. Ya'll can see me tomorrow on my morning show." Both young girls awed in disappointment but got up as she got down to the bottom of the ramp and stopped by the giant Tv to hold out her arms to hug the girls good bye. "Oh there there," she cooed motherly and smiled brightly, "You'll see me again, but I have grown up stuff to do. What you all can do is take care of that friend of yours alright?" Both agreed and reluctant let go of her, Cookie patting each of them on the head before turning her attention to Poppy and waving a paw. "You take care too now ya hear. And don't go treading through any more swamp water without an extra dress."

Poppy didn't get a chance to get anymore than a wave good bye as Cookie already pressed a button on her watch and in a flash of sparkles the cat was gone. She stopped and stared at the empty space the cat was by the children for a moment before shivering. She'd NEVER get used to the act of everyone disappearing and reappearing at will in front of her, but those sparkly blue eyes soon turned there direction down towards the shimmer and shine of the gold bracelet still protectively held within her hands, her blue eyes and messy red hair staring back at her. For a moment she could remember the soft brown eyes and the kind smile of the friend who gave it to her. Silly insisting she'd take it as payment for a simple bouquet of wild rainbow daises. ....The last thing she had to remember him by outside of memories. A small sad feeling came over her but was interrupted by the sounds of Bow yawning and stretching her body out which was followed by another loud yawn by Hattie. Oh yeah. Cookie did say something about it being eight p.m.. That would be pretty late by child standards, so it would probably be best if they slept for the night. Plus isn't she supposed to be helping out these little two until that Snatcher ghosts gets finished with whatever business he had? Yeah. Better get these tykes to sleep now.

"Kids. I know I don't have much authority probably but I think it's best you get to sleep." Both girls looked up at her as she walked down the ramp towards them both.

As expected Hattie gave a small whine. "One more Cheesy Penguin episode. PLEEEAAASE!!," she pleaded give Poppy big eyes that honestly melted her heart and she MIGHT have said yes if Bow hadn't grabbed her hand and tugged her towards the hallway toward the bathroom downstairs.

"Hattie! No more trouble today, and I'm tired. I wanna sleep."

Her friend groaned throwing her head back. "Fffffiiiiine. But I won't like it!"

Poppy gave a small smile and giggle at their antics. they acted more like sisters than friends..Well she guessed they were if Snatcher adopted the both of them. "Nice choice. Now go wash up for bed."

".....Wait." Hattie looked back up to Poppy with a confused look. "Where are YOU gonna sleep?"

"She can sleep on the pillow pile?," Bow suggested.

Poppy honestly stopped for a moment and gave the kids a blank look. That...That was a fairly good point. Where WAS she supposed to sleep on this space ship? All the rooms were thankfully big enough for her to stand up in(well all the rooms she's seen so far), but she'd have to crawl on her hands and knees to get to them. Looking back to her hand with the bracelet, she moved it a lil bit. The scrapes and sore muscles didn't hurt her anymore but a small dull soreness but it would be best to stay off it at least until tomorrow for the time being. So for now she wouldn't be crawling around so that meant she was probably bunking here or in the kitchen for the night, her blue eyes scowled at Rumbi as he still swept around casually. She still didn't trust that thing so in the kitchen it was. Wasn't very appealing but she'd have to make due with what she had.

"I can sleep in the kitchen tonight. I really don't mind."

Hattie made a face like she was crazy. "No you can't. whoever heard of sleeping in a kitchen? That's funny."

"Well, I'm certainly not in any mood to be crawling around anymore small hallways. I'd rather sleep somewhere I'd be able to move around easier in without having to crawl around on my wrist." She held up her hand before pointing to Rumbi. "And n-no offense but I don't really exactly trust that thing yet."

"Hey! Rumbi's a cleaner not a thing!" Hattie yawned again before wiping at her face again. "........What about the attic? It's really big."

"....Your spaceship has an attic?"

"Yeah! I'll show you!" As if the tiredness had left her completely for the excitement of showing Poppy even more of her ship, Hattie jumped to her feet and ran up to the ramp and Poppy. Who yelped and stumbled back from the small girl grabbing her hand as she ran by and yanked her back up the ramp towards an orange ramp going up and down. Gosh her grip was strong for a small child wasn't it? "It's up there!" She pointed up to an opening in the ceiling and Poppy rose a brow at it all. Since when did a spaceship have an attic? Well she's never been on one before either so maybe they naturally came with one. But that unsure uneasy feeling in her stomach returned when that orange pad came all the way back to the ground again and with a yank and yelp from Poppy Hattie pulled her right onto the elevator thing.

"Uh...Maybe I'll just sleep on the flOOR-" The sudden movement under her feet made her gasp and lean forward, almost tettering on the edge of falling off, waving her arms aroundfor something to grab as Bow made a gasp from below. Panic filled her being for a brief moment but at the last second the strong willed child managed to grab her dress and yank her back into a standing position. Poppy still wobbling around but thankfully missing the ceiling as they went up through the hole in the ceiling.....But fell down face first onto the attic floor with what followed by a ripping sound as something gave way. "OOF!!"

Hattie stood there for a moment before she blinked and hopped off the platform before it went back down, a small piece of blue fabric in her hands. She looked down to the blue piece of the dress in her hands before looking over to Poppy who coughed and pushed herself halfway up off the floor, most of the dress was still in tact thankfully but a bigger piece of the bottom of her dress was missing and that missing piece happened to be the same piece in the child's hands. ......Who quickly hid it behind her back when Poppy looked up and blew the long red hair outta her face and stared at her with a sigh.

"Uh...Oops?" She slowly pulled her hand from behind her back and Poppy sighed again before pushing herself up her to her knees. The room was fairly dark but she could see everything from the giant chandelier on the ceiling and the candle holders on the wall. She froze blue eyes slowly up towards the tall ceiling above them both. Stylish wood adorened the floor and walls, though there was some cobwebs and dust scattered about. Quiet ticked by in the room except for the actual ticking coming from an old grandfather clock in the far end of the room. There was a few other things as well like a crate here n there and a couple chests. Two dressers, a wardrobe, red chair, globe on the fair side, and a carpet leading all the way over towards the giant three windows. From there she had a pretty good view of the black space and beautiful twinkling stars beyond the glass. Hattie bounded a few steps across the carpet kicking up some dust from the old carpet and stopped, beaming at Poppy and throwing her hands out. "See? Is it ok?"

Poppy stayed on her knees for a moment before slowly rising to her feet. Her head still swiveling around to look at everything in the room taking it all in, surprised such a big room existed in a seemingly tiny ship. Then again she should really stop being surprised at this point. As she blinked and slowly looked back to Hattie. "Uh...Y-Yeah. This would be really ok."

"Oh good! I can let you borrow a pillow or two but the blankets are mine." The child yawned again as she went towards the exit mostly tired by now but Poppy was only half listening as she still looked around the place.

"Uh....Y-Yeah. It's fine." She looked down and had to do a double take as Hattie ran right past her and towards the exit. "H-Hey! Where are you going?"

"To get that pillow. I'll be right back promise!" She smiled tiredly before literally jumping down the hold making Poppy give a light gasp and reach out for her......But considering they were already used to this sort of thing she just sighed and pulled her arm back to her side and gave another look around the giant place. Ending it with a sigh.

Sleep would not come easy for her tonight.

[weartirondad]

Chaos, Yet Harmony

Summary: 3 times Peter made Tony watch Star Wars and the 1 time it was Tony's idea.Or: Peter Parker is unapologetically a geek and Tony quickly realizes that there's nothing he wouldn't do for him.

A/N: this is part of the @irondadsecretsanta and is my gift for @aslanscompass. It was a ton of fun & I wish you all a wonderful Christmas <3

Check out all the other AMAZING fics HERE !

FF.net I ao3

--

i.

Tony was wary when he answered the call at 10 past eleven at night.

He had learned early on that late night calls from teenage vigilantes were never a good sign and that, really, a call at any time from a teenager was a rarity and should always raise a red flag. So, yeah, he was wary but he felt like he was entitled to.

Next to him his fiancée was curled around the dark green plush blanket like a cat and regarded him, staring at the lit up screen of his phone, in amusement. “Don’t yell too much.”

He rolled his eyes and accepted the call, “No promises.”

“Mr. Stark?” came the breathless voice of none other than Peter Parker through the speakers and already he could feel his blood pressure rise and tried to breathe out deliberately slowly.

Calm, Stark, you’re calm.

“The one and only,” he answered and was almost proud of how calm and collected he sounded. Oh how deceiving voices could be.

“Oh!” The kid sounded actually surprised and paused for a second in which Tony could only hear the telling thwip thwip thwip of hectic webbing.

Not the best sign but he was calm. So very calm.

He was also already on the way to the nearest window, two steps from calling a suit. Pepper behind him was now openly laughing but he didn’t look back because –

“Great! I might need a little help here. Something.” Thwip. “Something came up.” Thwip. “Sorta.”

“Sorta?” Calm.

“I mean.” Thwip. “It definitely came up. Yup.” Thwip. “Definitely. How far are you from Queens?” Thwip.

“Three minutes,” he sighed, giving up on the act of sounding completely aloof, half waving to Pepper before turning around, stepping into his suit and jumping out of the window. There went the nice, cozy night he had planned.

“Kid? You still there?”

There was a long moment of no rambling and no thwiping and it was unsettling. If Tony knew that getting late night calls was a bad sign, he was sure as heck that random pauses in late night calls where close to the calling of the apocalypse.

“Huh? Yeah. Just, uh.” Thwip. “Try’na avoid getting hit.”

Jesus.

If anyone was going to test his body’s ability to handle stress it wasn’t his own superhero gig or some spandex wearing traitor, it was a goody-two-shoes kid dressed up as a spider.

“Okay, great. You keep doing that and tell me what’s going on.”

Just keep talking, kid, tell me you’re alive.

Peter started talking and while he sounded a little too excited for his taste he let the familiar sound calm him down. As long as Peter was talking, Tony could convince himself that he didn’t have to panic just yet.

He could already see Spider-Man flipping towards another building when a message from Pepper blinked up on his HUD.

Get home safe. Both of you. I’m heading to bed. Love you.

..

“That was wild, Mr. Stark! Like, super wild. Super mega wild. Super-duper mega –“

“Wild?” Tony suggested in mock seriousness, setting down on the landing pad and watched Spider-Man land gracefully behind him. The second the kid had solid ground under his feet he ripped off his mask and took in a big gulp of air. His hair was mussed, cheeks red and his usually light brown eyes dark, pupils dilated so much not much of the iris was left to be seen.

Typical signs of an active sympathetic nervous system, his mind supplied unsolicited.

“Steady,” he ordered roughly when a bony shoulder bumped into his arm but there was no real force behind it when he reached out to wrap an arm around him to do the steadying himself. As soon as he had him under control he led them to the kitchen to get one of the nutrition bars he had started keeping in stock for Peter’s mutant metabolism.

“S’rry.” The kid grinned up at him sheepishly, rubbing at the mess of curls on his forehead in a poor attempt to tame them. “What’re we gonna do now?”

He raised an eyebrow in silent amusement. “It’s midnight, buddy. You should probably get to bed sometime soon if you wanna make first period.”

“But –“ Peter looked disoriented for a moment, eyes flying back and forth between the clock and Tony felt for him when his searching gaze fell on him. He looked so hopeful, as if he was lost and Tony his compass and he was so certain that he would lead him back home. The genuine trust in his eyes pierced through him and immediately he felt lacking. Thank goodness that deflection was his second nature.

Shoving two granola bars into Peter’s hand, he took a step back to give himself some space to reorient.

“You’re too excited to sleep?”

There was a vigorous nod that had crumbs falling everywhere.

“Figures,” he sighed, “The aftereffects of adrenaline are never fun.” He watched the teenager devour the second bar in mere seconds, mind whirling with doubt. “Do you want me to stay with you until you are tired enough to go to bed?”

Wide eyes found his and, mouth still full, Peter gave a timid nod, uncertain question marks clear in the twinkle of his eyes and the way he cocked his head to the side slightly.

“Okay, let’s make some tea and put on a movie. What do you wanna watch? Frozen?” He turned around to start rummaging through the kitchen for herbal tea.

That must’ve been enough for Peter to finally swallow his food and get his bearings. “How do you even know about Frozen, Mr. Stark? Are you a fan?” he quipped.

He half-turned, kettle in hand, grinning when Peter plopped down on the couch and immediately tucked himself into the blanket Pepper had neatly folded and stashed on the arm rest before she had gone to sleep. “Have you been outside last year? Show me someone who doesn’t know about Frozen.”

“Fair point,” Peter agreed easily, mind obviously already a step further. “What’s your favorite Star Wars?”

“Uh,” Tony put the kettle on the stove, “I have seen about as many Star Wars movies as I’ve seen Frozen movies.”

“You –“ The way Peter turned must put a painful strain on his neck but he looked too scandalized to notice. “What?”

The kettle whistled and he put in two bags of Pepper’s herbal tea before replying, “I have never watched Star Wars.”

“Oh my –“ For the second time that evening Peter looked utterly confused which, for a kid that smart, was especially amusing. “What rock have you been living under? I thought everyone knew Star Wars. Especially old people.”

“Hey!” He admonished but had to admit that it lost much of its brunt when he put down two steaming glasses of tea and started tugging at the blanket to cover Peter’s foot fully. “Be nice to me.”

“I’m being super nice, Mr. Stark. ‘Cause I’m gonna introduce you to a galaxy far, far away. The best galaxy.”

Tony watched in amusement as Peter ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y. to put on Episode IV and then looked eagerly back at him. “You’re gonna love it.”

“This is supposed to make you tired, squirt,” he reminded him, tapping his knee gently.

“It will,” he promised, “Star Wars always calms me down.”

The way he said it made Tony pause, made his heart ache with the harsh reality this kid had had to face and how bright he still was despite of it. Instead of an answer he pushed the glass of tea into his hands and made sure he was all tucked in before starting the movie.

Surprisingly enough Peter wasn’t lying. Halfway through the movie his breathing had evened out so much that Tony thought he was already asleep, cheek mushed into one of the big pillows, curled in on himself.

When the movie was over he stirred, slurring “G’nna watch the rest t’morrow?”

“Maybe let’s split it up a little, whataya say?” He reached out to brush some of his curls from his forehead, surprised by the gentleness of the gesture. “But we can watch them together if you want to.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise, kiddo.”

--

ii.

With Peter it wasn’t exactly hard to notice when something was off.

Even Tony, who admittedly was often too caught up in his own world to be fine-tuned into other people’s feelings and was much more comfortable fixing a cranky robot than moody human, could see it from a mile away. Or maybe that was a new kind of sense that began and ended with Peter Parker’s wellbeing. Oh well, he tried not to dwell on that.

The thing about Peter was that, when he was fine, his entire being radiated contentment, his voice tripped with excitement and his eyes shone with laughter. On a good day he was the picture perfect golden retriever puppy and similarly receptive to hugs and hair ruffles.

Today, though, his usual exuberance had visibly deflated and when he came to the workshop he punched in his code and then continued to scuff towards his workstation with only a passing hello. That was not the Peter Tony knew and, frankly, it was worrying to see someone normally so eager and lively so … lacking of life for lack of a better word.

The thing about Tony was that he was, by his own standing, probably the least equipped to deal with someone having a bad day. Heck, his own bad days usually ended in working through every meal, chugging coffee by the gallon and seeing no sun light for hours on end and even he knew that wasn’t healthy.

So he kept quiet at first and let Peter work in hopes of it calming him down because what did he know about healthily dealing with teenage angst on a Wednesday?

He kept a close eye on him, though, because for how much Tony didn’t think he was equipped to handle Peter’s bad days he also wanted to chase the shadows from his face and the hardness from his stance however cliché that sounded.

He wanted to help, he did. He just didn’t know how. So he watched from afar and contemplated.

When Peter dropped the screw driver a third time and was getting more and more agitated with the web shooter he was working on, Tony decided to stage an intervention ‘cause what the heck. He hated seeing the kid so down.

Rolling his chair over to the teenager’s work bench he picked up the tool before Peter could. “You wanna tell me what’s up, squirt?”

Peter glared, which was about as intimidating as a golden retriever puppy glaring, “Nothing,” and reached for the screw driver. Which Tony pulled out of reach at the last moment.  Which made him look even more like a puppy. It was all in the big brown eyes, he decided then.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I have a secret identity.”

“Which I found out about in like a day.” He leaned back with a grin and started throwing the screwdriver in the air and effortlessly catching it.

“You’re Tony Stark,” the kid gave back with an eye roll, catching the tool before Tony had the chance to. “But I’m fine, honestly.”

“I mean,” he crossed his arms and watched him turn back to his web shooter rather listlessly, “considering that you not being fine usually means you’re bleeding out in an alleyway I’m not entirely reassured.”

“I’ve never bled out in an alleyway.”

“Yeah, because I flew in to get you before you could.”

“Why do you even care?” Peter snapped at him, a flicker of teenage annoyance dancing in his eyes before vanishing in the time it took Tony to ponder the fact that even this seemingly perfect kid could be annoyed. Finally. “Sorry,” he sighed, proving yet again how much better he was than literally anyone else, “I’m just annoyed.”

If that wasn’t a break-through, than he didn’t know what was. Silently patting himself on the back, Tony reached out to turn Peter’s chair so he was facing him and gently took the screw driver from his hands, putting him down on the work bench before giving the kid his full intention.

“What are you annoyed about?”

He shrugged indifferently, not meeting his eyes, “I don’t know. I just... Ned and I got into an argument and he was being so… so stubborn about it. Like, it wasn’t even that bad but he just wouldn’t budge.”

“Oh no, a stubborn teenager. Someone call the zoo we’ve found an endangered species,” he deadpanned.

Peter glared again but Tony could also see him bite down on his lower lip to keep it from curling upwards.

“Sorry, sorry. What did you and Ned fight about?”

“It wasn’t a fight… not really,” he corrected, “And it was dumb. Like, really ridiculous to be so annoyed about it. It’s not… it’s just stupid.”

Cocking his head to the side ever so slightly he raised an eyebrow and repeated calmly, “What did you argue about? I mean, if you don’t wanna talk about it that’s fine but if it’s got you so up in arms about it maybe you should is all I’m saying.”

“You’re gonna think it’s stupid,” Peter pouted.

“Maybe,” Tony shrugged, “But it’s still okay to be angry about something stupid sometimes. You don’t wanna know about half the things Rhodey and I fought about back in the days. Still do, actually.”

“Now I kinda do,” Peter grinned, then paused. “We argued about the Jedi code.”

“You… argued about the Jedi code,” Tony repeated dumbly, “Like… The Star Wars guys running around in wardrobes? They have a code?”

Big brown eyes flew up to meet his, full of indignation “Of course they have a code! There’s actually a couple different versions of it which is what we were arguing about because he said –,“ Peter stopped speaking midsentence, mouth slamming shut audibly. “It doesn’t matter… You don’t… you don’t have to listen to this, honestly, Mr. Stark.”

He made sure to school his expression and started speaking deliberately slowly, “Peter. I know I don’t have to listen to this. And, as you’ve pointed out before I am Tony Stark and you know I rarely do anything I don’t want to but, kid, you gotta know at this point that I like having you around and I like talking to you. That doesn’t just hold true when you’re your usual bubbly self but also, and especially when you’re not. This is clearly important to you. And if it’s important to you, I’m interested.”

He waited until Peter gave him a nod of understanding, timid as it may be, and leaned back in his chair again, “So tell me about this discourse in the Star Wars fandom.”

The kid didn’t have to be told twice and Tony felt his soul settle when he watched him perk up and dive into what must’ve obviously been weighing him down.

“Okay, so the Jedi code most commonly used goes like: There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge etcetera which, you know, it’s mostly meant to be used as a mantra for meditation to, like, get to a place where you don’t let your emotions overtake you and stuff. And I get that, I do.”

When Tony gave an earnest nod to show he was listening, Peter continued. “But it wasn’t always like that. It used to be: Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge, and so on. And I like that one better because it acknowledges the fact that Jedi do have emotions like everyone else, too, right? I think that’s important! And this whole black-and-white view of ‘There’s no emotion whatsoever’ makes me so mad!”

He was gesticulating wildly, cheeks reddening with fervor as he spoke.

“Putting aside how hypocritical the whole thing sounds, you can’t make people think that having emotions will put them on a direct path to the Dark side when so much of the goodness of the Good side comes from how much they care. It’s all about controlling those emotions enough to not make bad decisions based on them but – Why can’t there be peace with emotion? By giving their Padawans the feeling that they’re in the wrong for being… well, for being people they just make it so much easier for them to fall to the Dark side!”

“It just – it makes me mad how black-and-white they want to make the world seem. And by doing that they start lying to themselves and to their students and what good does a code do when it’s impossible to hold yourself to it? You can’t just go around telling people there’s no Death but the Force when that is, objectively, a lie. Whereas Death, yet the Force acknowledges that people die but gives you the closure of knowing where you’ll find them again and the belief that they’re still with you, somehow. I think … I think that’s beautiful.” Once he was done he slumped together on his chair.

“Feeling better now?” Tony asked, reaching out to pat the top of his head.

“Yeah, a little,” he sighed, “I’m annoyed that we even argued about it but I also don’t like how he wouldn’t even listen to my point of view, ya know?”

“Well, did you listen to his side?”

“I mean,” Peter blinked up at him sheepishly, “Kinda?” The corners of his lips tugged upwards and he gave a shrug, “Maybe not as much as I should have,” he admitted with a sigh. They fell silent for a moment, Tony giving Peter the time to work through the wall his mind had built up.

“Guess I’m gonna text him an apology for not listening and that it’s okay that we have different opinions.”

“Atta boy!” Tony grinned at him and while he knew none of Peter’s maturity was his doing, his heart still swelled with pride of how good Peter was.

“Can we watch Star Wars now?”

“You got your homework done?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“Hungry?”

He laughed, exasperated, “Nothing some popcorn couldn’t fix.”

Tony smiled, then sobered and gave him a once over. “You okay?”

Peter nodded, a lone strand of curl bobbing back and forth, smile soft and true. “Yeah.”

Well, that settled it. He clapped his hands once and got up from his chair in a swift motion. “Then let’s watch... What comes after Episode six?”

“Episode one!” Peter jumped up, grabbing his wrist like a child pulling their parent towards a candy store, “You’ll finally meet Anakin. And honestly that’s exactly my point! Maybe if they hadn’t told him that all emotion is bad –“

He let himself be dragged upstairs and listened to him rambling over the Jedi code and he realized, in that instant, that he was truly, irrevocably happy.

--

iii.

“I cannot believe I let you put me into this,” he complained, his voice breathy and rough.

Peter pulled on his white robe and fastened his light saber in its holder for the umpteenth time. “To be fair, you were the one who wanted a mask. I wanted you to go as Obi Wan.”

“He is blond, Peter,” he shot back like he had the last hundred times they’d had this conversation. He looked around through the dark lenses of his mask, the HUD he had installed blinking up to scour the crowd for possible threads, and sighed, “I miss the days where I was oblivious to Star Wars and didn’t have an annoying teenager dragging me to these things.”

“No, you don’t.”

He was glad the mask hid his smile at the easy banter. It was bad enough Peter knew exactly how wrapped around his little finger he was, he didn’t have to show it time and time again.

“Okay, I don’t. But you still owe me one.”

“But Mr. Sta-a-ark,” he said, dragging his last name for at least two more syllables than it had and looking as pitiful as if he’d actually just lost his hand, “I’m already being punished enough. We’re going to MOMA next semester.”

Despite himself, Tony could feel the fondness shine through as he chuckled, “Excuse me, are you actually voicing dislike in something? Are you actually my Peter Parker or have you officially become a rebel now?”

The kid giggled, honest to god giggled, and shrugged, “Guess there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Mr. Stark. I do dislike things!”

“Really? Name three.” He raised an unimpressed eyebrow, leveling Peter with a glare before realizing that the gesture was completely lost in his costume. Not even the tone translated. He really needed to figure something out for that next time. He couldn’t have his natural charm get lost in the Dark side.

The thought made him stop dead in his tracks – thankfully still unseen by the Jedi next to him. Next time? He hated this costume with a passion why would he consider wearing it again?

Unbeknownst to the inner whirlwind that were his thoughts, Peter actually answered his question after floundering for a bit.

“Well, I don’t like bad people. And hurricanes. And MOMA. Even though, MOMA really never did anything to me, I’d just rather go somewhere else y’know. I mean, it’ll probably be kinda nice anyway? So yeah, maybe I don’t not like MOMA. But – I still don’t like, uh, racists?”

Ah, yeah, that was why he was actually thinking about a next time in this ridiculous outfit. Because of Peter freaking Parker.

“Those are all very good things to dislike, Mr. Parker, but I was actually hoping that all people with a little decency and common sense disliked those things,” he teased. “Just admit that you do not have a single mean bone in your body and that it’s physically impossible for you to dislike anything.”

“That’s not –“

“I love your cosplay, man!” some guy in a badly made Yoda costume whose ears were precariously close to falling off the side of his head and were only held in place by a few strands of grey fuzz interrupted him and the disturbance would have annoyed Tony had Peter’s face not started positively lighting up at the compliment.

“Thank you!” he replied easily with a face splitting grin, “I love yours, too. What’d you use to make the ears?”

“Just papier-mâché”, Yoda replied, obviously taken aback by the interest in his own costume by someone with an obviously home-made light saber. He seemed excited, though, and started rambling about something until he let his eyes wander to the side and took in Tony’s appearance for the first time.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, yes, gasped, and gaped at him like a fish pulled out of water, “That is the best father and son costume ever! Can I take a picture of the two of you?”

And before Tony could so much as utter a word, Peter had already nodded his consent and leaned against him with a huge grin on his face and the other kid was fumbling for his phone and started snapping pictures of them. And then a selfie, because of course.

“Is this real life?” he breathed out almost silently.

“It might just be fantasy,” his sassy AI replied instantly, earning him another gasp and round of big, wide eyes from Yoda.

“Did your mask just reply to you? And did the eyes light up? How did you do that?”

“It’s just a, uh,” very high-tech AI system that was talking back to him, “it’s like Google glasses.” He cringed internally and could feel more than see Peter snicker against his side.

“Oh, like the ones Tony Stark always wears?”

By now Peter was having to work so hard on holding back his laughter that he had gone almost rigid, grinning from ear to ear and happily answering for him. “Yes, yes, Tony Stark is totally wearing Google glasses.”

“Ah, well, I think yours are cooler anyway. I mean you’d never find Tony Stark at the Star Wars midnight premiere.”

Oh, don’t I wish, he thought, ruefully imagining how comfortable he could be on his own couch right now.

Peter, though, Peter was loving this which made him reconsider his earlier statement about the mean bones in his body.  

“Yeah, you’re way cooler than Tony Stark. Right, dad?”

Oh for goodness sake. That sassy dad should not do the things to his heart that it was currently doing. That could not be healthy.

“Sure,” he cleared his throat to get rid of the pesky emotions in there, “I mean, Tony Stark is a pretty cool guy but, uh, yeah, so much cooler.”

And, as if someone had heard his prayers, the doors to the movie theater were opened and a reverent murmur went through the crowd before people – droids and aliens, Jedi and Sith alike – started wandering in and taking their places and finally, finally the thing they were actually here to see could begin.

Tony would complain about that day to anyone who would listen (and to some, like Pepper, who wouldn’t) but when Peter sent him one of the pictures the Yoda guy had taken, he framed it and put it up next to the picture of him and Rhodey proudly presenting Dum-E in his lab.

Until, of course, when he broke it in a moment of uncontrollable grief because looking at all he used to have just hurt too dang much.

--

iv.

“You coming, kiddo?”

The voice came out of nowhere, startling him so much he almost toppled over the front porch’s wooden railing he was leaning against.

“Wha-“ he whirled around and his heart simultaneously sang and sank, “Oh, it’s just you.”  

“Yeah, just me. Sorry to disappoint.” The quip fell from his lips easily but his mentor’s dark eyes shone with concern. Somehow that made the lump in his stomach grow even heavier.

“That’s not – I mean, uh, I’m not –“ he stumbled over his words, cringing at how high-pitched his voice sounded even to his own ears, “Sorry. I’m –“

He stopped midsentence when he realized that he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say and just shrugged, coupled with a small smile that was definitely fake and evidently did not convince Mr. Stark of anything.

He was still coming closer, slowly and careful of the shiny prosthetic that sat where his arm used to be.

The image made Peter sick and he tried to focus on his face instead. There were a few more wrinkles than he remembered, especially around his eyes and mouth – from laughing no doubt. He was sporting more grey hair, too, and he looked comfortable in his dark blue cardigan where he used to wear suits or band shirts. He looked exactly like someone who lived happily in a lake house.

“You okay, squirt?”

He snapped out of his spiraling thoughts and, on reflex, started nodding.

“See,” he stopped when he was next to him and leaned against the railing, too, facing Peter who turned to face the small boat that was moving ever so slightly with the lake’s small ripples. “I don’t believe you.”

Huh.

“You’re not okay.” It was a statement, leaving no room for him to argue.

“But –“ He was cut off and a part of him was glad for it because what was he going to say anyway? He was a bad liar and Mr. Stark good at reading him. That, at least, was something that hadn’t changed.

“None of us are really okay and that’s okay,” Mr. Stark said and turned to watch the lake now, too. “Or so I’ve been told repeatedly. But, as I’ve also been reliably informed, we have to talk to each other to get better.”

He shrugged and crossed his arms in front of his chest, tugging both hands under his arm-pits to keep them from shaking.

“No talking, I take it?”

He shrugged again.

“Would you let me hug you?”

His head snapped up instantly. The question came as a surprise but sounded honest and hesitant and attentive and it made his head spin. But, when he took a moment to think about it, he ended up nodding. He didn’t think there was a whole lot he would refuse the man for a while.

Almost immediately he was being wrapped into a strong healthy arm and pulled close until Mr. Stark could bury his face in his hair and take in a deep breath. He couldn’t help but notice how heavily his mentor was leaning against the railing while holding him but he also noticed how his entire body seemed to loosen as the hug went on, how tension and worry slowly sept out of his stance.

Peter noticed the same for himself, too, and somehow that made him want to cry.

The arm around him was steady and it held him together when everything had seemed to fall apart and his head was spinning and he felt his eyes tear up and his heart beat speed up and he suddenly wished that he could stay here forever.

Which was ridiculous. Mr. Stark just wanted to give him a quick hug and go on with his day. He couldn’t know how liberating his touch felt, how cared for and valued and loved Peter felt just by being in his arms and he couldn’t just tell him. He couldn’t –

But it felt so nice.

“Hey, hey, bud,” Mr. Stark sounded worried and it felt like he wanted to pull away and Peter’s breaths started coming in quicker at the thought. There was a sound somewhere in the back of his throat and Mr. Stark stopped pulling away but still loosened his grip.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” he shushed him and Peter had to swallow down a sob because this was getting ridiculous but it felt so nice, “It’s gonna be okay, I promise. It’s gonna be okay.”

After a moment he had caught himself enough to not start breaking down and gave a nod. “I’m –“ he sniffed and whispered, “Thank … Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

For a moment it seemed like his mentor wasn’t going to say anything but then he gave a small smile and pulled him into his side instead. “Anytime, kiddo. Now let’s watch Rogue One. The Force is telling me it’s time for a high stakes-tragedy-comfort movie.”

Despite himself, Peter let out a wet giggle. “There’s never a wrong time for Star Wars, Mr. Stark.”

“I know, I know. It’s tradition. Or so you keep telling me,” he said and the fondness in his voice almost made Peter cry again.

He didn’t, though.

They went back into the empty lake house – May, Pepper and Morgan were having a girls day apparently – made themselves comfortable on the big couch and put on the movie as if they had never done anything else. They moved like a well-oiled machine, like a team that had been working together forever.

Peter was curled into Mr. Stark’s side and his thumb was constantly caressing his knee and it felt wonderful. It felt like home.

The lump in his throat never left.

Somehow it kept growing with every passing minute and with it the loneliness and while he felt right at home it also felt like he shouldn’t. His body felt out of place, as if all the pieces of him had never truly reintegrated, leaving him with holes in his being that he wasn’t sure how to fill.

He watched Chirrut Îmwe blindly walk across battlefields and single-handedly eliminate an entire garrison, trusting the Force to keep him safe and the blazing desire for that kind of certainty hit him unaware.

Maybe that was the whole problem, he realized slowly, as he watched Galen’s message to his daughter and that was when the first tear fell, silent and painful.

Ever since he had come back barely anything had seemed certain anymore. There had been things he had believed to be unchangeable but then a mad Titan had snapped his fingers and his beliefs had turned into dust alongside his body and half the universe and then he had come back and everything had been different and even things that appeared to be the same just weren’t.

May had been gone, too. They still loved each other the same way they always had. Unconditionally. Unquestioningly. Easy. She never had to miss him, never faced a world without him in it. She was the only constant he could claim but everything else –

He couldn’t understand how it had been five years and Mr. Stark had a wife and a kid and a lake house and how he could have still missed him with all that. How he could’ve even had the time. Why would he miss Peter of all people? And, and…

Mr. Stark’s affection was different now. Fiercer, gentler, more… more parental. Or maybe it wasn’t different but he was more open with it. He looked at him the way he looked at Morgan and he couldn’t make sense of that. He couldn’t.

Why would anyone miss me?

He kept circling back to the same question.

Whywhywhywhy- Why me?

He didn’t notice he started full on crying until suddenly the screen in front of him was blurry and his cheeks were wet and his breaths came in rough. He tried to breathe through it, to keep his body calm and steady so Mr. Stark wouldn’t notice but it made his lungs feel like they were on fire trying to keep it all in.

As if he had read his thoughts Mr. Stark’s hand moved up from where it had been resting on his knee and started rubbing slow circles into his scalp. He didn’t move otherwise, made no attempt to pull away and when he spoke his voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Did he? He knew if he started talking, he’d start spiraling and he’d lose the last ounce of self-control he was clinging to. He didn’t want that.

He shook his head, but his body started shaking more violently anyway when he couldn’t breathe through the sobs anymore.

“Shh, that’s okay, buddy, that’s fine,” Mr. Stark murmured, “But stop trying to bite down on your tears. I know how much that hurts. It’s okay. Let it out. I’m here.”

He kept talking – quietly, soothingly, calmly – and at some point Peter’s body decided to listen and he stopped trying to keep quiet and when the first sob broke through his lips he buried his head in Mr. Stark’s stomach and let himself cry.

It hurt and more often than not Mr. Stark had to remind him to slow down his breathing so the oxygen could reach his brain and it didn’t seem to ever stop. But it was also freeing.

Every sob that tore through him gave voice to a pain he had buried inside like needles in his soul that he was pulling out one after the other. For the first time since he had come back he felt like he could breathe again.

His lungs were finally uncurling fully, the weight that had been sitting on his ribcage was gone. He could breathe and at first he gulped in the air like someone pulled from certain death through drowning. He felt like he had been suffocating for weeks and this was the first time someone had pulled his head above water again.

“Slowly, squirt, slowly. Breathe nice and slowly, the air’s not going anywhere, I promise.”

And if Mr. Stark promised to keep his head above water it must be right. After all, Mr. Stark always kept his promises.

They didn’t exchange anything other than those small reassurances and soothings until the end of the movie. And Peter shed a few tears when the inevitable happened but he was tired and cried out and so emotionally drained he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to feel again.

Still, when Princess Leia appeared on the screen he felt the same flutter of hope in his chest that he always felt when he watched it and his soul settled.

“Hope,” she said on screen and the single syllable word echoed through his body, spreading like a bonfire and melting places that had been numb for days.  

Everything was going to be okay.

When the credits started rolling, that’s when Mr. Stark started talking again starting with a cough to clear his throat that sounded like he had been crying, too.

“I know you may not want to talk about it, Pete, but I feel like we should.” He sighed and he sounded sad and strong at the same time. More importantly, though, he never stopped running his fingers through his hair. “You may not have heard but I’m a responsible adult now. Someone who makes kids talk about their problems.”

Peter snorted and Mr. Stark gave a chuckle.

“Granted, Morgan’s tears are usually about whether or not we’re letting her have that second juice pop but we do talk about that.”

“You give her the juice pop, don’t you?” His voice was scratchy but Mr. Stark didn’t comment on that. He laughed quietly.

“It depends, honestly. On whether or not Pepper is around when the tantrum starts.”

“You’re a great dad to her,” he whispered in reply and if he had thought he had calmed down just half a minute earlier then his heart felt like splitting open again now. He couldn’t put the finger on it, didn’t want to admit to himself that it was jealousy of the time they had that he would never get. He hated himself for thinking about it. If anyone deserved a family it was Mr. Stark and Morgan was the sweetest child. It was just –

Morgan belonged with her family, she was a Stark through and through – stubbornness and smarts and all. And Mr. Stark belonged with Pepper and his daughter, too. He knew that. He wanted that for them.

He just – he had thought that he had kind of belonged with Mr. Stark, too, but how could he now that he had been gone for five years? How could he ever belong anywhere ever again?

“As they say; practice makes perfect,” Mr. Stark spoke, completely oblivious to Peter’s thoughts, “Guess it gets easier the second time around.”

For a moment he forgot to spiral into self-doubt and angst and stopped. A Second… Second time? Huh?

As if he sensed the wordless question, his mentor pulled him closer and buried his face in his hair again. It seemed to soothe him as much as it calmed Peter. He seemed comfortable this close. Happy, at home.

“See, squirt, I know that I didn’t raise you. I would never take that honor and privilege from May and your Uncle Ben and your parents. They made you in the person you were when I met you and that person was already better than anything I could have ever hoped to achieve. But then,” he paused as if unsure how to continue, “We did meet and I did get the honor of being in your life, of mentoring you, of caring for you. I made a lot of mistakes at first and – My biggest mistake was trying to keep you at arm’s length.”

“I don’t – I don’t understand,” Peter whispered, pushing himself up far enough to meet his mentor’s eyes that were glistening with unshed tears. His gaze softened even more when he saw his own tear stained cheeks and red rimmed eyes and there was a shadow of anguish and a spark of love in them.

“I know,” he sighed, never breaking eye contact but shifting them into a more comfortable position, “You can’t understand because I never told you. Not really. But, Peter, you have to know, that you’re my kid. You are as much my kid as Morgan is. You made me want to be a dad, made me want to prove that I could because I wanted to be one to you and I didn’t want to fail you. And –“ he stopped and a shudder went through his body, “And then I did. I failed you and I – I never forgave myself for that. And I never stopped missing you. God, I missed you so much, Pete.”

But … “Why would you… Why me?”

“Because, Peter. Because you’re my boy and I love you and the world was so much darker without you in it and because every awful moment would’ve been less awful with you and every good moment would’ve been perfect. I – I kept going, I went on because I had to. Because there were Pepper and Rhodey and then Morgan. I had to keep going but that doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you every single second of every single day.”

“I’m scared that I don’t belong anymore. That I don’t belong anywhere anymore,” he admitted finally. The shameful confession uttered so quietly that the words almost got lost in his mentor’s heavy breaths on his cheeks.

“Oh,” Mr. Stark looked at him stunned, like he had grown a second head for a good moment before leaning forward and pulling him back in, holding him tighter than he had ever held him. Both arms folding across his back with the prosthetic cutting into his skin but it didn’t matter, it didn’t. Because he felt held together in place, in a place where he belonged and where he was wanted. He was being anchored and kept from drifting off into the infinite vastness of space and he was so incredibly grateful.

“You belong here, kiddo,” he took in the fierce words in his ear, let them run down his back and warm him like a hot shower after a cold day. “You belong with me and you belong with May. You belong in Queens and you belong here, in this lake house that has been planned with your bedroom in mind. You belong with your family and, for as long as you let me, I will never let you go ever again.”

He cried some more after that – cried himself to sleep that night in fact – but Mr. Stark was there the whole time, holding him, whispering reassurances and tickling a wet smile out of him eventually. The next day was a little bit better. The self- doubt didn’t evaporate, didn’t leave right away.

Some days were worse than others, some were better. Some the voices in his head had him going mad with why’s and what-if’s and some days he couldn’t even hear them over Morgan’s giggles and May’s bad jokes and Mr. Stark lecturing Dum-E.

Coming back wasn’t easy by any means and it did take a while but a couple of weeks later, he jumped out of Happy’s new SUV, running up to the front porch and flying into Mr. Stark’s waiting arms, and his thoughts hummed happily with only one thought.

I’m home.

[ridleytheknight]

Son of a Mafia Part 5

It's Pidge's turn! And thank you to a certain user ThtoneGal66 on Ao3! They heavily inspired this chapter and inspired an alternate ending and a whole new chapter that was never planned in the series with their through, beautifully supportive, and detailed comment that lifted my spirits and watered my crops. Thank you so much starling. You have no idea how much you've affected me with your kindness. Thank you so much.

This is for you. I hope you enjoy it as much as you have the rest :)

(Hope I answered some of you theories too :)

       The hierarchies of the mafia were honestly pretty complex. Lance had to admit it. His family was very liberal and open minded. Having six daughters of varying degrees of sexuality and one son who didn’t care if what he wore was girly or if who he kissed wasn’t a girl tended to do that to their family.

           Family came first over tradition and mindset.

           However, that didn’t mean their contacts were like that. True, they respected that the girls were the eldest and equal to them (Lance’s ex drove that home. They knew what those ‘innocent and dainty’ girls could do) Though in regards to orders and who they looked to first as the heir would be Lance. He was the first son.

Luckily, Lance was a great diplomat and an even better compromiser. While he may be the prince, his eldest sister was to be the queen. Lance would serve as her prince and enforcer. Her right hand. Equals in decisions -It also helped that as much as he loved Emilia, she was more of a shoot first question later, there was a reason he was the one who tortured and interrogated- His other sisters would be the heads of each of their own areas. Excusing Mia and Mya who wanted to run as co-leaders (the twins hardly separated, they even shared a boyfriend, polyamory was not an unknown concept to Lance nor his family)

           There would be some issues of the other families taking Lance’s side over hers should they ever disagree, he would smooth that over. Probably by scheduling family meetings before any conferences to sort out which side they may be on. Lance typically agreed with his family though, or could argue his points out with logic and persuade them to see his view.

           He hoped Mama and Papa were doing well, they were getting up in their years. Lance had no clue when he’d left. He was supposed to take over with Emilia and his sisters as soon as he graduated… but life was strange. He hoped they weren’t too worried, they knew he could care for himself. Even if that wouldn’t stop them from hunting down any lead and obstacle in their way. Including the Garrison if they tried to cover up their disappearance again.

           Though, the idea of his sisters tearing into Iverson for his disappearance was so amusing.

           Lance almost hoped he would be stupid enough to attempt just that.

           Shame he wouldn’t get to paint Iverson’s kneecaps. He’d been practicing.

           Lance’s dainty fingers brushed his left rib cage. They itched. They always itched and burned when he thought of it. The only distraction from it was the raging of blood lust, which was non existent as he headed out of the dining hall. But Lance pushed the burning feeling away, the ink in his skin was old. Any discomfort was past lived and all in his head.

           Right now, what he had to worry about was the baby sibling that hadn’t eaten all god damn day. Gremlin wrangling was not a fun sport and he needed his full attention for it. Not part of it. Lance sighed quietly, but a small smile still tilted on his face. He was the youngest, so he’d never had a little sibling to take care of and hassle. As frustrating as it could be, Lance wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

           His eyes didn’t take long to find the familiar almost ginger-light brown hair in the living hall. A blanket draped around Pidge’s shoulders and a laptop firmly within their grasp. Lance only rolled his eyes and jumped up onto the back of the couch, leaning forward to press his chin annoyingly on Pidge’s shoulder.

           “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, Lance to computer gremlin.” Lance tapped Pidge on the cheek, getting only a grunt as acknowledgement. “Grumpy-pus. Grumpy cat. Grumpy Gremlin. Hey, hey, hey.” Pidge glared at Lance venomously.

           “What?” Lance brushed off the aggressive tone like water on his skin. Emilia’s murder tone was a lot scarier. Not to mention it wasn’t like Pidge was point a gun between his eyes like some others had. It was like when you tried to compare a dog to a wolf. Both could do harm and even kill. One had more motive and tendency to do it however.

           That being said, having been attacked by a dog as a form of interrogation. Both were preferably avoided.

           “Pidgey, it’s been a solid eight hours since you logged on~ I keep track of this you know. So do you know what time it is? Dinner time~ Dinner, dinner, dinner, dinner time! Get yo ass up and give your computer gremlin ways a break for a solid half and hour and I’ll relinquish my hold.” Lance grinned even as Pidge glared.

           “Screw off Lance! I’m busy and I don’t have time!” Lance only smiled. A little more forced.

           “Pidge, buddy, pal, amigo. Get your ass up. You need food.” If Pidge was surprised by the serious tone, they didn’t show it. “I know you haven’t eaten at all today and you skipped dinner yesterday. Hunk made food.” And Pidge blew up.

           “What do you know about me?!?! Nothing! You know nothing! God, why are you so god damn annoying! Leave me the hell alone Lance! I don’t have time for your games or your flirting or any of it! Shove! Off!” Pidge was left panting after their fit of yelling, lungs burnings and exhausted. But even they weren’t too tired to immediately feel regret welling up and the quick shift in the room. However Pidge didn’t even get to dwell to much on it before a dangerous look passed Lance’s face and shook the younger teen. They’d never though they’d see a look so… cold… not on a guy like Lance.

           “I don’t know you? Pidge. You’re real name is Katie Holt. You’re a technological genius with absolutely no social skills, which is fine. You have a serious obsessive about finding your family, which is fine. Your favorite color isn’t green. It’s orange because that’s the jumpsuit picture you last had of Matt before he disappeared. You love peanut butter. You also don’t need those glasses. You just like to look like your brother because it makes you feel close to him.”

Lance didn’t stop there however.

“I pay attention to you. I know who you are because I care about you and your health and I listen to every damn word you say because I love you and respect you and I want you to be healthy and happy! But god damn it if it doesn’t get frustrating sometimes! I pay attention, that’s how I fucking know you despite what you think. I always listen and pay attention because I care.” Lance paused.

“But you wouldn’t know that about me, would you?” And Lance was gone within the second, storming out like a raging tide retreating back into its home of rough and violent ocean currents. Leaving Pidge shell shocked and quiet as they processed what Lance had just spat out at them. Because it was all true. It was all so true. And it made them want to cry. But it also made their mind race. Because if there was one thing they could pick apart it was Lance. Pidge wasn’t the best with social situations, but they knew the paladins like the back of their hand, right?

Keith, the angry hot head with a mullet and family issues. Shiro, their leader, strong, with family issues of his own and probably PTSD. Hunk, their other tech friend and a master chef, who was a little too anxious for maybe his own good. Allura had a whole set of issues, but stayed strong like a rock. Coran was their actual rock, emotionally balancing them out. And then there was Lance.

Jokester (But he never poked fun in the face of real danger)

Flirty (Yet it never felt real)

Simple (But there obviously was an enigma hidden in the glimpse Pidge had seen)

Stable (Was he really?)

What did she really know about Lance? Pidge knew psychology and knew mental illnesses and how to gauge reactions. It was how they passed mental exams at the Garrison, how they lied through their teeth to get in. And Lance… he never fit in right.

One moment he’d be laughing in the center of the room. The next he’d be silent, diligently taking notes. One moment he’d be smiling with his friends. The next he’d be looking at a bully with pure distain. A cold and cruel shine in his eyes and a blankness that unnerved Pidge to remember it. The more unnerving thought was that Pidge never remembered seeing the bully around after Lance left the room with them. Forced jovial smiles and playful nudges.

There was also the haunting of death that all the paladins faced. Pidge knew they were affected. Shiro had been dealing with it since before Voltron. It wore on him deeply and Pidge had no doubt he’d need some serious therapy after the war was fought. Even Pidge could see his fresh hesitation to end a breathing life however. The imperceptible pause. Keith channeled his anger in the moment. Slicing through the enemies. Only in the quiet of night did she see him looking at his hands in slight horror. The tears she pretended not to see in his eyes. Hunk was a whole slew of anxiety. It was obvious the only reason he ever pulled a lethal shot was to protect Pidge, who rarely, if never was part of the offensive if it wasn’t Voltron.

Lance however… it was terrifyingly mesmerizing to watch him fight. The fluidity that Lance worked between shooting and keeping people from getting close to him or any of the paladins. The silent set jaw that could only be seen out of his lion. Deep concentration. Lance was the first she’d seen to pull the trigger. She couldn’t look away. Watching how Lance pointed the gun at the Galran soldier with fluid and practiced ease and shot. Lance’s face blank with disinterest, eyes lit and dancing with emotions Pidge couldn’t relate or identify to. There was no anger. No sorrow. Only a sorting of acceptance, and another driving force with only the faintest touch of unseen grief. Grief that flickered out to acceptance as Hunk was saved by Lance’s fatal shot.

No one saw Lance take that shot. Pidge wasn’t even supposed to have seen it. She couldn’t look away from the camera however. And Pidge never said anything as she watched time after time. Never mentioned the subtle way Lance always covered his face from sight if he made a fatal blow in front of other eyes. She’d seen that blank look of near satisfaction and accepting pride only one more time after that. In the castle after Allura had been safely recovered from the Galran invasion of the castle. The deadness of a still ocean in Lance’s eyes as Pidge had silently watched his form slink away. Soaked with blood and limping with Coran. Allura had gathered most of Pidge’s attention then, and after that any thoughts of how that much blood got on Lance faded to the normal daily grind of enhancing the castle and finding Matt.

Pidge’s lanky fingers moved quietly and silently without thought. Pushing their other projects gently away. Before they pulled up the surveillance videos of the day Allura was kidnapped slowly. The castle automatically flagged and saved any cameras with movement as a way to conserve memory. Pidge held their breath. Uncertainty weighing with curiosity for the first time in a long time. But, it always won. And they clicked the video feed.

Immediately the video started. The back of Lance’s head already visible, as well as a Galran soldier. Pidge watch in worry as Lance didn’t even break stride. Bayard held tightly in his grasp as he moved. He looked so… different. His shoulders were back and each leg stride held purpose as his chin held up with poise. Lance looked like… royalty. Even as he easily placed the rifle to the back of the Galran’s head and leaned into his ear. Whispering words to quiet for the audio feed before shoving the Galra into the closest room.

           That video led to the whole semi horrifying, semi-fascinating scene of watching Lance torture the guard for information. A wide and almost unnatural grin as Lance nearly, gleefully, brought the Galran to the brink of death while constantly questioning him. Double checking answers and mocking him. Taking sadistic satisfaction in the blood, pain, and screams. The way Lance moved was constant. Almost like dancing.

           Dancing to the sound of screams.

           Like music.

           Pidge felt enraptured as they watched him walk out of the room. The blank concentration and the sickening light in his eyes dimming to set focus as he gunned down the Galra infested halls like they were nothing. Taking the stray bullet or knife in stride. It was like Lance was possessed. Angry with a calculated and calm composure. As if he didn’t feel the pain of wounds. Or the burning of his hands as his bayard began to smoke. Watches as he takes down the Galran soldier guarding Allura with his bare and burned hands and takes her to safety before even considering limping his own way for help.

           Everything he did was for them.

           And Pidge had just spat that in his face.

           More importantly.

           LANCE WAS A FUCKING BADASS!!!

           HE WAS LIKE THE GOD FATHER OR SOME SHIT! God, why didn’t he use that to pick up chicks cause that was so god damn cool!!! Lance had just gunned down an entire hallway of guards like they were toy soldiers in some five year old’s game of battle frontier! Pidge abandoned their laptop immediately and stormed through the hallways. Poking their head through every door they could until they finally found Lance in the lion’s hangar. A knife twisting in the air. Falling and ascending in a deadly and precise arc. Lance’s fingertips barely brushing the knife to cause its renewed ascension every time. It was so deceptively and delicately powerful. Masterfully controlled with effort and ease that only came with practice and knowledge.

           Pidge pointed a finger accusingly at Lance and screeched. “YOU’RE THE FUCKING GODFATHER AND YOU EXPECTED TO HIDE THAT SHIT FROM ME??? WHAT THE FUCK LANCE?! THIS IS MY ONE TIME TO SAY I KNOW A MEMBER OF THE FUCKNG MAFIA AND YOU TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME???” Lance’s body jolted up in the surprise and Pidge almost regretted surprising Lance and worried about the knife until Lance was able to do damage control. Sending it clattering to the floor clumsily. As if he had no way of controlling it.

           Too bad Pidge had seen him using that knife

           Lance coughed into his fist, “Well. No, not really. I’m not going to be saying to leave a firearm and take a pastry anytime soon. Nor am I the head of the family. I’m just the son of my father. Who happens to be the head of the family… so I’m not the godfather yet. I won’t even be a capo for a while…” Pidge threw their hands up exasperatedly.

           “C’mon! You have to make this up to me. Tell me some cool shit!” Lance chuckled as Pidge practically threw themselves onto Lance to make him stay put. Glaring at him like a pouty child who wanted a story. It reminded him so much of his little cousins and his little niece and nephews that his resolve to keep those two sides of him completely separate crumbled.

           “There really isn’t many clue things to be honest. It’s a lot of work. A lot of negotiation. A lot of morally ambiguous decisions.” Lance chuckled ominously. “I am the youngest in my family, but they call me the dark prince of the McClain family for a reason I guess.” Pidge damn near had sparkles in their eyes.

           “I saw you torture that Galran. Have you done that before or was that improv?” Lance gave Pidge a weird look and a bemused smile.

           “Pidgey. I’m the fucking Dark. Prince. Please rethink your sentence computer gremlin. Yeah, I’ve… done that before. In the moment it’s only a rush. Like the most exhilarating adrenaline rush. All you feel is invincible. Powerful. Manipulative. Anything. You feel like what you want is in the palm of your hand. After its done and the high has worn down and you’re relaxing, you look back and you don’t know who that person in your skin was. I had never been guilty. I’ve accepted what I’ve done. I don’t regret it beyond mourning their loss and remembering I had no right in pulling their strings. But you don’t think like that in the act. You only thing after it. When that person is gone. Until you do it enough times and slowly you and that person aren’t strangers. You’re two people. One person really. Always. And if you’re doing it right… or at least… with some ethics. You’re doing it for a reason. I do it for my family, my loved ones, and right now… the rare occasion I lose control.” Lance looked straight to the young teen kneeling on his out stretched legs. Eyes wide and fastened on him with a child-like wonder. Lance smiled, looking Pidge straight in the eyes. Letting the foggy and hard eyes that always accompanied those memories turn warm and soft, just for them.

           “Now I do it for you.”

           Things only rolled on further after that. Pidge seeing the soft kink in his armor and jabbing at it demandingly for more stories. By the end of night having migrated to lay on Lance’s lap. Lance’s delicate and callused fingers carding through Pidge’s hair amazedly. Reverently. That something so young. So pure still. Was so relaxed with him. He was almost afraid he’d get blood in their hair, even when it was long since gone from his physical skin. Lance felt a demanding nudge in his mind. Looking up just in time to hear Blue snort.

           She said ‘I told you so.’

           Lance rolled his eyes, leaning against his beautiful girl’s paws. Looking out past Pidge to the vast space within his sight. Watching over his little sibling like a guardian watching diligently to eliminate any threat or harm to their charge. Space was scary. But he could be scarier. Sitting on his throne with poise and precision.

           He’d die for his family. He’d kill for his family. He’d live for his family.

           Lance looked down to Pidge’s sleeping face. Their glasses were scooting down their face and they’re long eyelashes were fluttered onto their cheeks as shallow breaths fell in and out of their mouth. Sleeping peacefully, dreamlessly, burdenlessly. Lance would keep them like that. Protect them from the world. He’d bring back their family and continue to shield them. Even if they rejected him after they didn’t need him anymore. With their own family again. No need for a killer of a puesdo-sibiling. And Lance’s lips did a rare thing when the monster prowled in place of him in the throne room.

           He smiled.

[creightonbeatrice1994]

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[distant-rose-archive-blog]

Emma Swan vs. The Bake Sale

Note: I don’t normally update two days in a row but this prompt was too good to pass up. imhookedonaswan on AO3 made a comment on one of the prior installments about Emma bringing store brought brownies to a baked sale with judgmental moms and I really couldn’t pass it up. It was just too brilliant for me to let slip through my fingers so I decided to write it. Anyway, thanks again @welllpthisishappening for always lending an ear and constantly reading blocks of text that I send your way. You’re amazing. Summary: Emma Swan is the Savior, the Sheriff of Storybrooke, a daughter, a sister, a wife and a mother of five children. Her life is a bit hectic. God forbid, she bring store bought brownies to the youth football bake sale. Rating: T Word Count: 5,500+

Before she got married, Emma Swan admittedly thought about how her life would be if she survived the Final Battle. She had fantasized about an idyllic life where Killian and she only had to battle a monster once a week, would go to Henry’s track meets, eat dinner with her parents and have an absurd amounts of sex on a daily basis. She had imagined that she and Killian would have a few years to grow comfortable with each other before deciding whether or not they would have children. And even more admittedly, Emma had imagined that they would have one or maybe two kids, a boy and a girl preferably, and they would be beautiful, charming but respectful of their parents and wouldn’t get into too much trouble. (She always assumed that any child of theirs would have some mischief in them, but would be smart enough not to do something crazy like perhaps steal their grandfather’s sword and go swinging it around like it was a baton. Seriously.)

That was a fantasy though, and some deity up there on Mount Olympus had seen those fantasies and laughed their ass off because that was not the reality that Emma Swan was granted.

The reality was that Emma Swan and her family only ate with her parents twice a week, Henry had quit track during sophomore year to run the school newspaper and while she still had a healthy sex life, it was constantly interrupted by her four (yes, four, she was still uncertain how they had managed to get that number) small children who didn’t seem to understand the meaning of a closed door. Those same children, of course, were beautiful and charming, but they didn’t often understand the meaning of the word ‘respect’ and they seemed to get into trouble more often than they were out of it. Emma was now very familiar with the school principal, who seemed to have her on speed dial, and her family health insurance now covered absurd things like “falling off a roof” and “accidentally eating harmful paints” because apparently, she needed that. She’s pretty certain that the Emma Swan of eleven years ago would be terrified of the reality she had been given and would have gotten her tubes tied.

It wasn’t that Emma hated how her life had gone since the Final Battle had been won. She adored her life, her husband and her kids, but sometimes she just wanted a day off or at least a twenty-minute nap. That’s all she asked for. Well, maybe she also wanted for a clean kitchen too. And a magic proof cookie jar. And a vacuum that could actually pick up dog and cat hair. And a way to detect if a suspicious brown stain was chocolate or poop. Okay, she wanted a lot of things, but at the moment, she really, really, really wanted that nap and it was only nine in the morning.

“Sometimes I envy you. You have nothing to do except eat and sleep,” Emma whispered to her youngest son as she attempted to get him to eat the chopped strawberries she had prepared him for breakfast. At six months of age, Neddy was just starting to eat solid foods and he was showing himself to be just as fickle as his older siblings. “I would kill for either right now.”

“Bah,” Neddy replied in the same eloquent fashion of all babies who hadn’t learned to speak yet.

He batted Emma slightly on the nose was his strawberry coated fist and looking up at her with unblinking and impossibly blue eyes. Neddy’s eyes were nearly identical to Killian’s and Wes’s eyes and now that he had hit the sixth month mark, Emma was certain they would stay that way instead of going green like Harrison’s and Beth’s.

“Bah is right,” Emma agreed with a nod of her head, holding a strawberry up in front of his mouth in hopes he would take the bait. “You are a man of many words, Neddy Jones. A gentleman and a scholar. Now if only you would eat as well as you talk.”

“You know he can’t actually talk right?” Emma’s eight-year old son Wes called as he entered the kitchen. “Because he can’t. If you were expecting him to, then you might want to talk to a doctor.”

Emma sighed, rolling her eyes and turning to give Wes a very unimpressed look.

“When did you learn to become such a wise guy?” she asked, her voice sounding incredibly tired even to her own ears.

“Birth,” Wes replied, making a beeline to the cookie jar and putting his hand in to take one of the last remaining Girl Scout cookies in the house.

“That explains a lot,” Emma remarked before she realized what Wes was doing. “Hey! Put that cookie back, kid! It’s literally nine in the morning. House rules! No cookies before noon.”

“Dad had one this morning so I don’t know what house rules you’re talking about,” Wes replied defensively.

None of this surprised Emma; Wes arguing with her or her husband eating cookies at nine in the morning. Killian had a massive sweet tooth and an intense fondness for Girl Scout cookies. In fact, Emma had taken to hiding them to keep him for eating them all, especially the Tagalongs which were her favorite. Wes, on the other hand, seemed to want to argue and fight with them every step of the way and Emma was dreading his teenaged years, which were right around the corner.

“Your father is an adult and rules don’t apply to him,” Emma replied, still not impressed with his arguing skills. “You’re a child and you’re going to put that cookie back or so help me Westley Graham Jones, I will make you regret it.”

“Fine,” Wes muttered, putting the cookie back in the jar and giving her a dirty look.

He practically stomped his way over to the cupboard that held all of the cereal and Emma half the mind to tell him off for the attitude but she was still incredibly tired from Beth being sick all night and Neddy refusing to fall asleep and it just wasn’t worth it. If the kid wanted to be an ungrateful brat, then Emma would let him be an ungrateful brat.

“Is Henry coming to my game today?” Harrison asked, walking into the kitchen and looking at Emma with hopeful eyes.

He was dressed in football gear, looking bigger and older than his ten years, which was a good thing Emma supposed because her father had insisted he play for the U12 team instead of the U10 team so he and Neal could play together. Emma was almost certain that David wanted to groom her giant sweetheart of a kid into a Division One talent. The thought made her inwardly snort. It was a fool’s errand. The kid didn’t have a mean bone in his body.

“Not this time, kiddo,” Emma replied with a sympathetic smile. “He’s still in Seattle this weekend, but I’m sure he will try to make it next weekend. You know that he loves being there for you.”

“Oh okay,” Harrison mumbled, immediately wilting at the news and walking towards the counter with his shoulders slumped to get bread for toast.

It broke her heart that he was so upset about it. Her two oldest boys were incredibly close despite the rather large age gap. Henry was without a doubt Harrison’s hero and at times a source of confidence. Harrison always seemed to be less shy and surer of himself whenever Henry was around. Archie was currently working on a way to make Harrison less anxious without Henry, but so far it seemed to be a fruitless endeavor.

“Hey,” Emma placed her hand on Harrison’s shoulder pads. “Just because Henry isn’t there doesn’t mean you aren’t going to totally rock today. I bet you anything that Grandpa David is going put you on both the offensive and defensive line and if you get seven tackles, which you totally can, I will buy you ice cream. Pinky promise. Sound good?”

“You have strawberry on your nose,” Harrison mumbled, not really answering her.

Emma brought her hand up to her face and sure enough, she had mushed strawberry on her nose. She sighed and wiped it against her sleep-shirt. She didn’t want to add any dish rag to the dirty pile and she was going to put her shirt in the laundry later anyway.

“How come you don’t buy me any ice cream when I score goals in soccer?” Wes asked, still in a foul mood.

If there was anything that Emma had learned over the years, it was that parenting multiple children at the same time was hard; almost impossibly hard. Each child was different and needed a different style. Harrison needed constant encouragement and help with his self-esteem while Wes, who had no confidence issues to speak of and was nearly as wild as a Lost Boy, needed a firm hand to keep him from exploding up his own face. Beth also needed a firm tending to because she had a mischievous streak of her own, but seemed to work better under Killian’s handling than Emma’s. Neddy, who couldn’t walk or talk yet, thank the gods, was an unknown factor at this point. She was slightly hoping that he would become a mild-mannered nerd who didn’t need much handling at all.

Her kids didn’t necessarily seem to get that they were different and needed to be treated differenlyt. It wasn’t uncommon for them, namely Wes, to complain or imply that there was favoritism towards certain members of the family over others. It often made Emma want to scream.

“Well, if you score three goals, then I will buy you ice cream too, okay?” Emma replied in the most patient tone she could muster at the moment.

“Two goals, not three,” Wes countered.

“This isn’t a negotiation, kid. Hat trick or nothing,” Emma said firmly.

“Bah!” Neddy cried, picking up the leftover strawberries in front of him and tossing them across the table, which Emma had just cleaned not even twenty minutes ago. It seemed her youngest was feeling a little left out of the conversation.

Emma sighed and closed her eyes, quietly counting to ten to keep from screaming. This was her happy ending. Her life was great. She had wonderful husband and children that sometimes acted like normal human beings. This was a tiny bump in the road compared to dealing with curses, evil witches, psychotic villains and the sort. Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself.

Just as Emma was starting to calm down, her husband’s voice cut sharply through the kitchen.

“I don’t think so, Westley Graham Jones. Put the cookie back in the jar.”

Emma opened her eyes to see Killian standing by the doorway with a pale looking Beth on his hip. He was glaring at their son, looking nearly as exhausted as Emma. The son in question looked guilty as hell, hand outstretched. There was no cookie in his hand, but there was one levitating in the air not too far from his fingers.

“You got to be kidding me?” Emma exclaimed in exasperation, bringing her hand up to her forehead before it ran back through her hair. “Kid! I told you like five minutes ago, no cookies before noon!”

Emma snapped her fingers and the cookie disappeared, returning back to its home in the cookie jar. Wes pouted, not even looking remotely sorry, which really got on Emma’s nerves because he had deliberately disobeyed her.

“But Dad ate a cookie this morning!” He repeated his earlier argument. “I saw him!”

“Westley, did you buy the cookies?” Killian asked in a tired tone.

“No.” Wes answered sourly.

“Are you above the age of eighteen?” Killian continued.

“No.”

“Do you pay taxes for this house or anything in this house?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t get make any decisions in regard to cookie eating,” Killian concluded, giving him a firm look while also running his fingers down Beth’s back. “In fact, because I can say ‘yes’ to all of those questions, I’m going to make a cookie eating decision now. And you’re not getting any for the rest of the weekend.”

“For real?” Wes asked, looking very dismayed.

“For real,” Killian confirmed, looking like he really wanted to roll his eyes. He then turned his attention to their daughter who was still resting on his hip. “Think you’re ready to come down, love?”

“Yeah.” Beth’s voice is a bit on scratchy side, but she climbed down from Killian’s side with ease.

Killian placed his hand on Beth’s forehead for a moment, frowning to himself before allowing his fingers to make their way through her long dark hair. He looked a pinch concerned and Emma could only assume that her fever was still running high.

“You’re still warm, Minnow, are you sure that you’re feeling alright?” Killian asked gently.

“I’m good,” Beth mumbled, leaning into his touch. “Pirate queens can’t be sick. You said so yourself.”

“They can if they’re only six-years old and have been throwing up all night. I don’t want you making yourself worse. Can’t run a crew if you’re running yourself ragged,” Killian replied, leaning down to plant a kiss on Beth’s forehead.

“I’m tough,” Beth said stubbornly, puffing out her chest and standing a little taller as if that pose would somehow convince her father that she was, indeed, tough.

Of course, Beth didn’t realize that Killian already thought she was the toughest bean in the world and had proven so when she was only two. Emma wasn’t ever going to forget how Beth had hit her head against a ceiling fan when she had been on Killian’s shoulders and how they had rushed her to the emergency room to get stitches. Instead of crying when the doctor had been sticking the needle into her skin, she had growled at him. Emma remembered vividly Killian’s look of disbelief and laughter when he realized their toddler was more pissed off than scared about getting stitches on her face. “That’s a tough lass,” he had commented, pride filling his voice rather than guilt.

“I know,” Killian responded while placing another kiss on Beth’s forehead, looking straight at Emma rather than at their daughter. And for a moment, Emma was positive he too was recalling the stitches incident as well.

“Hey Mom,” Harrison called suddenly, standing in front of the open refrigerator and frowning. “Did you make brownies for the bake sale today? Because I don’t see them.”

“What?” Emma frowned, a fusion of confusion and panic running through her.  Bake sale? What bake sale? What was he talking about?

“You know, the bake sale that the moms are running today to help raise money to buy new uniforms for the team,” Harrison explained, looking just as panicked as she felt. “You said you would make brownies for it.”

“I did?” Emma asked, closing her eyes and hoping that this was some elaborate prank that Harrison was uncharacteristically playing on her.

“You did,” Harrison replied solemnly. “Did you forget?”

“Fuck…” Emma muttered and she dropped her head gently against the table. The game was in an hour and a half. She had absolutely no time to get dressed and make herself look like presentable human being as well as make brownies and bring Harrison to the game on time. She was the Savior, not Wonder Woman. (Though she kinda doubted that even Wonder Woman could do the same in a time crunch with four children.)

Neddy giggled next to her, flinging more strawberries about. One landed on the back of Emma’s neck and she suddenly realized that she dropped the mother of all swears in front of her impressionable six-month old child who would probably say his first word at any moment

“Shit,” she exclaimed, raising her head from the table. Her whole body twitched as the strawberries slide down her neck into the back of her shirt. She pointed a finger in Neddy’s direction. “Don’t repeat anything Mommy says. Your grandmother would kill me if your first word was a swear.”

Warmth spread through Emma’s shoulder and she glanced to see her husband had placed his hand there. As her eyes met his, his hand gave a gentle squeeze.

“Would you like me to drop by the store and buy something while you get dressed, love?” he asked gently.

“Could you? I mean you’re not really dressed yourself, but if you could, you would be the best because if I don’t bring those brownies, I will never hear the end of it from Aurora and the others on the Parent Association,” Emma said, smiling at him.

“If that’s what you desire, it will be my pleasure. I’ll just throw on some actual trousers and I’ll take Beth and Wes with me to the store,” Killian replied, dropping a quick kiss on her lips.

“Thank you. You’re my savior,” she replied, incredibly grateful to have him.

“I believe that’s your title, love,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling a bit as his thumb brushed against her cheek. “But I’m always happy to be the Savior’s savior.”

“Why do I have to go?” Wes frowned, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He looked the epitome of displeasure and once more, Emma was dreading his teenage years.

“Honestly?” Killian arched an eyebrow at their son. “Because I don’t trust you alone with those cookies and we’re on the last box of Tagalongs. Your mother needs to get dressed and she can’t watch you and keep you from taking them, you little thief.”

“I thought the preferred term was pirate,” Wes retorted.

“It is,” Killian agreed, the corners of his lips twitching. “But regardless of terms, I don’t trust you with the cookies alone and my word is final. You’re coming with us.”

Killian practically dragged Wes by the back of his shirt as they headed out the door with Beth walking slowly behind them. Emma frowned as she watched her daughter follow them without her usual enthusiasm. Regardless of what Beth said, she was certain that her daughter was still pretty sick and was only pretending to be okay. Emma sighed and picked up Neddy.

“Come on, you,” she said gently, giving the boy a kiss on top of his mop of black curls. “Let’s get you and me clean and dressed so we can watch your brother decimate kids that are two years older than him.”

It took Emma a record twenty minutes to get herself and Neddy bathed and dressed. By the time she returned downstairs, Killian was waiting for her with two tins of brownies that Emma recognized as coming from the bakery section of the grocery store. She smiled, glad that he had gotten those over Wes’s preferred zebra cakes.

“The crew is all buckled in the car waiting for us. Do you want plate these so they don’t look like you just bought them?” Killian asked, grabbing their son out of her hands and bouncing him. Neddy let out a squeal of delight.

“No. I’m not going to lie to them. There’s no point in it. Destinee McRae or whatever her name is will know they’re store bought from a mile away and I’ll never hear the end of it,” Emma sighed, picking them and gesturing with her head for them to go to the car.

When they arrived at the field, Harrison immediately broke into a sprint, muttering something about being late and coaches that were going to kill him. Killian looked down at his watch and frowned.

“The game doesn’t start for another ten minutes and he only missed a few seconds of the warm up and Dave is the coach. What in blazes is he going off about?” he asked, a bit confused.

“This is Harrison we’re calling about,” Emma said with a sigh as she adjusted her hold on Neddy. “He freaks out when we’re less than fifteen minutes early to a dental appointment. He likes to be early in case something happens.”

Killian gave her a look like he wanted to say more on the subject but didn’t want to say it in front of their other children. Emma understood the sentiment. She looked around for the bake sale stand, hoping against hope that none of the really anal mothers were manning it.

When she spotted the stand she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it was only Ashley Boyd who seemed to be running it. Ashley was probably the most manageable and sensible out of the other mothers, which meant there would be very little cajoling over the brownies. However, at the same time, Emma was a bit confused. Ashley had two children now, Alexandra and little Thomas, but Thomas was only seven years old; nowhere near old enough to be playing in a U12 football game. Emma frowned.

“Everything alright, love?” Killian asked, noting her expression.

“Yeah,” Emma replied faintly. “Yeah. Everything is fine. Why don’t you go find my mother and the little ones and go sit with them. I’m just going to drop these brownies off and wash my hands of this.”

“You sure you don’t want me go with you and fight off the judgmental harpies?”

Emma couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his very adept description of the Parent Association mothers.

“No need. It’s just Ashley,” she said, giving him a quick kiss. “I shouldn’t be long.”

“If you say so,” Killian responded, smiling a bit. “But if any of those surly ladies show up and try to pick a fight with you again, just remember you’re the Savior and you’re taken on more fierce foes than them. Their nattering is nothing but bored and jealous chatter.”

Emma made another amused noise in the back of her throat.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she chuckled.

“Would you like me to take Ned?” Killian asked, gesturing to their youngest, who was sitting on Emma’s hip and focusing on the teething ring in his mouth.

“Nah,” Emma replied. “I’ll keep Bug with me. He makes for a good distraction if the ‘harpies’ show up.”

“As you wish.” Killian bent down to give her one last quick kiss. “Good luck and raise hell if you need to.”

Ashley’s eyes lit up as Emma approached with both the brownies and Neddy. It became clearly very quickly that Ashley was more excited to see Emma’s son than either herself or the brownies.

“Is that Bug?” Ashley asked in an very enthusiastic tone.

Emma laughed.

“It is,” she said. “And I’ve got some brownies for the bake sale. I forgot about the bake sale so they’re store bought. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Brownies are brownies. The kids aren’t going to care. It’s all good,” Ashley dismissed with a wave of her hand as she came closer. “Hey there, Handsome! Can I get a cuddle?”

“You may,” Emma laughed placing the brownies down on the table and handing her son off to Ashley. “He loves giving cuddles to his favorite daycare teacher.”

Ashley held Neddy close to her, smiling and running her finger down his cheek. Neddy gave her a smile around his teething ring, nuzzling his head into the crook of Ashley’s neck.

“I will never get over how much of a monster cuddler he is,” Ashley said with a smile, running a hand up and down Neddy’s back. “He’s such a sweetheart. He’s a joy to look after. He almost makes me want another. Almost.”

“Yeah. I got lucky,” Emma agreed. “He’s a good boy. I wish he would stay like that forever. They get less cute and more complicated once they can walk and talk. They’re always easiest at this age.”

“Do you hear that, Bug?” Ashley laughed, looking down at Neddy. “Mom doesn’t want you to grow up!”

“You call your son Bug?”

Ashley and Emma turned to see Aurora approach them with a look of pure judgment on her face. Emma internally sighed. Aurora was exactly the last person she wanted to run into.

If there was anything that Emma hated more than dealing with immature, screaming children, it was immature parents. In fact, parents normally held the persona-non-grata spot on Emma’s tolerance list. Aurora had never given much of an issue to Emma before. They were never close, but they weren’t enemies. At least, they weren’t until Emma’s son Harrison joined the U12 football team and Aurora threw a great big stink about Harrison’s age and how he should be playing at “his proper level.” Emma was more than convinced it had something to do with the fact Aurora’s son played the same position as Harrison on the defensive line. On top of that, Aurora was near militant about food and Emma was pretty sure she could recite little Philip’s allergies in her sleep.

“It’s just a nickname,” Emma said, taking her son back from Ashley and holding him a tad protectively.

“Yeah. They call him that because he’s got these killer big blue eyes,” Ashley exclaimed, still focusing all of her energy on Neddy. “And the fact he likes to be snug like a bug in a rug. He’s a cutie pie.”

“Ashley’s right,” Emma chuckled, slightly amused that Ashley was aware of their nicknaming tendencies. It didn’t necessarily surprise her however. Emma had put all of her children save Henry through Ashley’s daycare. She knew her kids as well as anyone.

“Interesting,” Aurora replied, sounding like she wasn’t interested at all. “Did you bring the brownies, Emma?”

“Yeah…” Emma replied, somewhat confused. “I thought that Ashley was running the stand though…”

“Oh no, I’m not,” Ashley clarified. “I’m here because Alexandra is cheerleading for the game. I was just holding down the fort until Aurora came back from the bathroom.”

“Gotcha,” Emma said with a nod, feeling a little dismayed. She really liked Ashley and she tended to be a bit more reasonable than Aurora.

“Emma, are these store bought?!” Aurora asked, looking positively scandalized.

Emma closed her eyes briefly for a moment. This had been exactly what she had been expecting when she arrived at the field. It was half the reason she brought Neddy with her to the bake sale stand. It wasn’t so much of a distraction for the other mothers as much as it was a shield for them. Emma Swan couldn’t knock someone’s lights out if she had a baby on her arms.

“Yes, Aurora,” she said calmly. “They’re store bought. I just didn’t have enough time to make some and I didn’t want to come empty handed so I had Killian buy some.”

“Emma, you’ve known about this bake sale for weeks. I sent an email almost weekly about this. Don’t say you didn’t have enough time. I told you sent you an email on Monday.”

“Aurora, I have four small children,” Emma responded, not willing to take the Princess’s chastisements. “Neddy is teething and Beth has been sick for the past few days. Plus I had to arrest three Vikings this week for diner dashing on Granny and I had to get my car fixed since Henry wrecked it last time he was here. Forgive me if I’ve had more stressing matters on my mind than a bake sale.”

Emma’s explanations seemed to fall on deaf ears however because Aurora was still glaring murderously at the brownies, still in their packaging, on the bake sale table.

“Whatever. It’s bad enough that you brought processed brownies. Who feeds their kids these? Are these even sugar free? Gluten free? Nut free? Vegan friendly?” Aurora asked, rounding Emma with her hands on her hips.

“Store bought brownies are fine. My kids eat them all the time and I promise you that they haven’t died yet,” Emma replied, barely holding back an eye roll.

She was pretty sure Aurora would have a fit and call child services if she revealed Wes’s love for Little Debbies and Zebra Cakes. “And I have honestly no clue. Killian bought them while I was in the shower.”

“Great,” Aurora replied with a huff. “Great. Now I’m going to have to label them so everyone knows that they’re not friendly brownies.”

“Not friendly brownies?” Emma stared at her in disbelief. “They’re regular run of the mill brownies, Aurora. It’s not like they’re nuclear or something.”

“No, but kids like my son can’t eat them!” Aurora hissed through clenched teeth. “Kids who have celiac disease or who are allergic to nuts cannot have these brownies. They could die, Emma! That’s why everything is labeled! At least tell me you have a pen so I can write all of this stuff down.”

Emma glanced down on the table and sure enough every single food item was labelled. Nearly everything on the table was vegan, gluten-free, sugar free and made with products that were free of GMOs. She honestly didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. It seemed like children with all dietary diseases and allergies had a variety of choices, though they didn’t look necessarily appetizing.

“I have a pen in my car, Aurora,” Ashley said with a slightly awkward smile. “I will go get it for you.”

Emma nearly screamed at Ashley with her eyes not to leave her alone with Aurora but Ashley merely gave her an apologetic smile and a final ruffle to Neddy’s hair before sprinting off to go to her car.

“Look, Aurora, I’m sorry that I brought store bought brownies and that your son can’t eat them, but like I said, I genuinely forgot and didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

“I honestly would have preferred if you came empty-handed, Emma. My son is going to see these brownies and he’s going to want one and he can’t. I thought having a mini circus like you do would make you more sympathetic to the dangers of food allergies.”

Emma’s jaw clenched. A mini circus? She wanted nothing more than to punch her in the face, but thankfully for Aurora, Neddy was nestled against her chest and she loathed more than anything to put him down.

“None of my kids have food allergies and just because you’re frustrated with me that doesn’t mean you can insult my kids,” Emma replied tersely.

“Please,” Aurora sniffed. “People have said worse.”

That was it. Emma was done. She wasn’t going to stand here and get chastised by a woman who had hired an nanny to look after her only child. She couldn’t punch her in the face like she wanted to, but that didn’t mean she had to stick around.

“You know what?” Emma said lightly, adjusting her grip on Neddy. She perched him a bit higher so that his wild curls tickled the bottom of her chin. “I did what was asked. I brought brownies. I don’t have to stand here and help you. In fact, I’m going to sit with my husband and watch my son start over yours despite the fact he’s only ten. Have a nice day.”

Aurora’s jaw dropped at Emma’s words and she looked like she wanted to say something but Emma didn’t wait for her. She spun on her heel and went to go find Killian.

When Emma finally found her husband, her mother and their kids, the game was already seven minutes into the first quarter. Wes and her younger siblings were nowhere to be found but Beth was laying across Mary Margaret with her head in Killian’s lap, looking positively miserable. Killian was running his fingers through Beth’s hair, watching the game.When he finally noticed Emma approaching, he offered her a smile.

“Still sick, Little Beth?” Emma asked her daughter as she approached.

Beth made a mumbling sound before burying her face in Killian’s stomach.

“She’s still a little under the weather but she’s enduring as always. Hello, love. You were gone for awhile,” Killian commented.

Emma sat next to him, giving him a quick kiss before responding.

“Apparently it’s the end of the world if baked goods aren’t vegan, gluten-free, nut-free and sugar-free,” Emma informed him. “How’s Har Bear doing?”

“He’s going well. He has two tackles already,” Killian reported. “Neal is also doing well. He got himself a touchdown. Your brother is quite fast.”

“The touchdown is expected. I mean, I’ve seen how fast that kid is when he’s going a naked yard dash away from my father but Harrison has two tackles? You sure it was our kid?” Emma asked in disbelief.

“Of course. He immediately picked up the other boys and brushed them off, making sure they were okay,” Killian responded with some amusement. “What’s this about vegan and all of those free-somethings?”

“Okay, yeah tfhat definitely Harrison,” Emma laughed. “And I know. Apparently you can’t just sell regular baked goods at a bake sale. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“I see. Well then, fancy a wager, Swan?” Killian asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I’m all ears,” Emma responded, burying her face in Neddy’s hair and watching her husband’s amused expression.

“I bet you anything, including the Jolly Roger, that those brownies will be sold out before anything else on that table,” Killian stated with a grin.

“Oh, that’s a given. Only a fool would bet against that.”

Sure enough at the end of the game, they walked past the bake sale where Aurora was doing her best to sell off vegan cookies that had apparently been made with apple sauce. Only one brownie from the store bought batch remained and Emma smiled to herself as she watched a child buy the last one.

[charyzard]

Jaal x Ryder, 1900 words. Fluff fic with very minor NSFW, based on a prompt for a massage. Should be spoiler free! Read it on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10857699

Fiona Ryder realized something was wrong when she tried to put her pajamas on and was met with a piercing pain in her shoulders. After a moment of wincing and cussing, she prodded the sore muscles with a gentle hand, only to find that she was tenser than she’d ever been. Her back felt like solid rock, and she knew that couldn’t be healthy.

“SAM, is Lexi awake?” Fiona asked, slowly bending to put her sleep shorts on.

“Yes, she is in the midst of an autopsy report on the most recent kett Ascendant we have killed,” her AI replied. “I do not think she would enjoy being disturbed.”

Fiona sighed- he was probably right. She needed a back rub desperately, something to work the knots out of her shoulders and the pinching feeling from her lower back. Lexi was probably the most qualified, though any of the humans on the crew were probably familiar enough to do a good job. Still, she really wanted Jaal to do it. After their last private encounter, Fiona was eager to spend more time with him.

“And,” she mused, “He’ll want to learn more about human anatomy. Win win!” Fiona pinged the tech lab with her omnitool, getting an answer within a few seconds.

“Darling one, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Jaal’s voice was low and warm, and Fiona blushed.

“I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“Anything.”

“Well, I’ve been really tense lately, and my back is hurting. Are you familiar with massages?” She crossed her fingers, hoping that they did.

On his end, Jaal hesitated. Angara did know about massages- in fact, they were something shared between family and life-partners on a fairly regular basis. What gave him pause, however, was how much contact they’d be sharing. Yes, they’d kissed, spent long hours tangled up with each other filled with kisses and wandering hands, but that was in the dark, and they’d yet to… to take anything off. All the same, the thought excited him.

“Of course, tavetann. Do you mind if I bring something to help?” He glanced at his lotions- there was one that helped with muscle pain, and it would likely do the same for her. At least, he hoped it would.

“Um, yeah, whatever you thing would work!” Fiona was nervous about that- what was he talking about?

“Good. I will be there shortly.” Jaal ended the connection, rising from his bed. He tightened his sleeping robe and grabbed the bottle of lotion, heading out of the tech lab and down to the pathfinder’s quarters. Tann was sitting pensively at her door, his little gray paws gently clawing at the metal- he’d have to tell Gil that his cat-door protocol wasn’t working.

In Fiona’s room, she was scrambling to look alright. She made her bed quickly, ran a brush through her hair, made sure her teeth were clean. No matter how many times she saw Jaal, she still wanted to look her best around him.

“Pathfinder, Jaal is outside of your door. Tann the cat is accompanying him,” SAM announced, and Fiona acknowledged. The metal door slid open with a small hiss, revealing Jaal in his dark blue robe, Tann in one arm, a bottle of lotion in the other.

“Hello,” He greeted, distracted by Tann struggling for freedom. “Down you go,” he said quietly, letting Tann free gently. The cat ran into Fiona’s room, heading straight for his scratching post. Fiona laughed, bringing a smile to Jaal’s face. He loved her laugh, even more so when he was the one to cause it.

“You look comfortable,” Fiona commented as Jaal walked over to the bed, sitting down next to her. He gently kissed her in reply, one hand settling on her waist, the other cupping her head gently.

“But you are not. What wrong with your back?” He was concerned, running one of his large hands across her shoulders. He squeezed softly, his expression changing as Fiona reacted to the pressure. “I assume you are supposed to be softer there. Not like a rock.”

“No,” she sighed, leaning into him, “Humans are supposed to be softer there. And down here.” Fiona guided his hand down to her lower back, pressing his fingers into the knots.

“Fiona, how long have you been like this? You can’t fight well with your muscles in this state. Come here.” He pulled her into an embrace, folding her into his arms. Fiona loved it when he did that, pulling her in and making her feel… sheltered. Small. It felt good, after being forced into the role of pathfinder, to know that someone could still do that for her.

“I have been looking over Dr. T’Perro’s files on human anatomy, and I will do my best to avoid sensitive areas. You will have to guide me, though,” Jaal stated, and Fiona could feel his voice vibrating in his chest. She pulled back, grinning, and nodded.

“Of course, but only if you tell me what you have in that bottle of yours.” She gestured to the lotion he’d placed on the nightstand, and Jaal lit up with a smile.

“This is a muscle relaxing lotion. It will help, if I massage it into your skin. I think. I am not sure how it will react to human physiology. We should test it first.” Jaal reached for the bottle and put a small dab onto his hand, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. He gently brushed it along the top of Fiona’s hand, and she raised her eyebrows.

“It tingles, is that, like, normal?”

“Does it burn or itch?” He was watching her skin closely for a reaction.

“No, just a little tingly. Like menthol.”

“Menthol?”

“It’s a chemical compound that makes things tingly. Pretty ‘cool’ stuff,” Fiona explained, snickering at her pun, and Jaal nodded.

“It sounds similar. Now- ah- your shirt…” Jaal trailed off, unsure of how to continue. His hands were clasped nervously, but a small smile crossed Fiona’s face and she rolled her eyes.

“So bashful, Jaal. You’re not even the one stripping,” she teased, then pulled her shirt over her head.

Jaal’s breath caught in his throat. As her arms extended, tossing the shirt to some corner of her room, Fiona looked like a sculpture.

“Stop, for a moment,” Jaal requested, and Fiona paused her action, arms still in the air. “You look like art, tavetann.”

Fiona blushed, slowly setting her hands down in her lap. “Well, that’s got to be one of the nicer compliments anyone’s given me.” Fiona was loathe to admit it, but most of the people she slept with were a lot less emotionally invested.

Jaal stared at her intently, focusing on how her skin curved and sloped across her delicate bone structure. He could tell where her ribs were, the slight definition of her abdominal muscles- she looked a lot like the diagrams Lexi sent- just more real, more wonderful. Eventually he settled on her chest, curious about her breasts. Humans demonstrated greater sexual dimorphism than angara, and Jaal was struck by a sudden urge to feel if she was as soft beneath her clothes as she was on her normally exposed skin.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Fiona snorted, and Jaal blinked.

“You wouldn’t mind?” He rather wanted a picture of her to keep with him, and with her skin bare, she was even prettier.

“No- I- It’s an expression. But I mean, I guess I wouldn’t.” She blushed, and he shook his head.

“I will settle for seeing you in person. Now, lay down, let’s see what we can do to help you,” Jaal said softly, watching her carefully. Fiona stretched and laid face down on her bed, arms resting beneath her pillow. She had goosebumps, less from cold and more from anticipation. Jaal settled across her thighs, straddling them carefully to avoid putting too much weight on her. Fiona shifted slightly, and eventually they found a comfortable position.

Jaal squeezed a small amount of lotion between his hands, holding it between his palms to warm it. The concoction would heat up on its own, but there was no reason for the first part to be unpleasant. He gently placed his hands flat against her shoulder blades, rubbing the lotion over her shoulders and working his thumbs into the very obvious knots. Fiona moaned under his touch, and Jaal’s reaction went straight to his core. He swallowed nervously, but carried on, drawing little sighs and soft breaths from his partner. He loved how she moved under him, her muscles softening the more he worked them. He loved the soft slope of her lower back, how it dipped and rose at her hips, how he could trace her spine with the slightest pressure. And her tattoo, the star at the nape of her neck, he wanted to kiss it. Jaal wanted to kiss all of her skin, taste the sweetness of her, lavish her with all of the attention he could give.

“I will never know,” Jaal rumbled, his fingers dancing up the sides of her breasts, “How you found me. How lucky I am that you crossed a galaxy to come into my life, you exquisite creature.”

Fiona gasped, arching her back into the bed. His words were as erotic as his touch, and Fiona had to suppress the sudden urge to roll over and kiss him. Instead, she groaned into her pillow and rose up onto her elbows, simultaneously frustrated and overjoyed that Jaal was… wandering. He used the opportunity to slide his hands onto her chest, both hands cupping her breasts. She was soft, and as he applied pressure, Fiona whimpered.

“Jaal, do you- ah- do you know what you’re doing?” Fiona asked with a shaky voice, leaning up to press into his strong body. Jaal grinned, gently kissing her neck, and tweaked one of her nipples with his thumb.

“Obviously,” he hummed, then elaborated. “I have discussed human anatomy with Dr. T’Perro at length. But tonight isn’t about this, no matter how delectable you feel. Tonight is about relaxing, and you need to rest.” Jaal pulled back, leaving Fiona huffing in frustration.

“You can’t just tease me like that,” she whined, turning over to look at him. His arms were pillared on either side of her, and the smirk on his face was his answer. “You’re rude.”

He quirked a brow-ridge up, a habit he’d learned from Fiona. “Rude? Really?”

“Absolutely. Now cuddle with me.” Fiona reached up and wrapped her arms around him, pulling Jaal down with more force than he expected. Jaal obliged happily, settling into the bed with her. Fiona fluffed the blankets over them and tucked herself close into Jaal’s arms as the little spoon. Jaal took the opportunity to bury his face in her hair, the soft strands one of his favorite things about her. It always smelled like foreign flowers and her gentle scent; it filled his heart with something that might have been love. They held each other in silence, SAM taking the liberty of turning off the lights and dimming the large window that looked out onto the expanse of space.

“Jaal?”

“Yes, darling one?”

“Thank you. Not just for the massage, but for everything. For being here for me.” She sniffed, blinking away an errant tear- the emotions coursing through her were unexpected.

“I will always be there for you, Fiona. Wherever you go.” Jaal squeezed her tighter, kissing the top of her head. Fiona smiled, and for once, she believed that she’d found love.

[abloomntime]

A Bloom In Time P16

She was starting to feel MUCH better now! Honestly all the dirt and grim leaving her body was very relieving. She felt like a new woman! But there still was one problem. Cookie had been nice enough to take care of her clothes and wash them up for her. The problem was that there was rips and tears in the dress near the bottom making it look like someone took a weed wacker to the bottom of the once nice blue dress. Oh well. The important thing was that it was clean and so was she at last. Her wrist felt better as well. Cookie was also kind enough to look over Poppy's injury and thankfully no signs of swelling were there just some scrapes that could use a few bandaids. If she had to guess, it must've been whatever herbal bath the cat made for her, really did work like those healing herbs her mother used to grow, the pain had stopped by a bunch to where she could move it and grab things without feeling pain, and all that was left was a dull soreness like a bee sting. She also felt mentally better, as if a heavy rock was lifted off her back, which is why the smile on her face was placed there as she dried off her long hair.

"I knew there was a peach under that dirt," Cookie complimented as Poppy smiled and pulled the towel off her head, letting her still slightly wet hair fall down her back. "Now there. Such a pretty shade of red. Like a lovely rose."

"Oh please. You're too kind. It's nothing that's uncommon. You're actually very fairly pretty yourself!," Poppy complimented back which got a wave from Cookie.

"Believe it or not my fur color is actually a rare color where I'm from." She walked over to where Poppy stood holding up the heavy duty leather apron she usually wore when gardening now also cleaned as well.

"Oh really? Uh..Thank you." She grabbed the apron from Cookie with a smile.

She nodded. "Most of the cats where I'm from are all black or light grey. It's another reason I wanted to leave, I like being around people more colorful like me. But enough about me, what's it like where you're from?" That one sentence made Poppy fully stop folding the apron for a solid ten seconds, before that smile slowly turned back into a frown as she continued to fold the apron before slowly putting it under her arm silently. Cookie's look softening. "Oh. I'm sorry. I knew you said you-..Im sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"It's....ok. I-...I can't go back there anyways. I-It's...It's gone."

The cat placed a paw on her gently. "I know it ain't none of my business, but what happened?"

.......No. She didn't want to tell another person her burdens and sorrows, and reliving it again by talking about it so she sighed and shook her head. "It's...A-Actually gone. A...." What was she supposed to call being cursed for a thousand years before being woken up by accident? She settled on- "A v-very bad ...winter froze everything and destroyed it. A-As far as I know I'm the only one left alive to speak of it." True. After all that Snatcher fellow certainly wasn't alive after all being a ghost.

Cookie gave a small gasp, her paws coming to cover her mouth for a moment in shock. "Oh my goodness. You poor thing. Oh, no wonder you were so distressed."

"Thank you. B-But you don't really have to feel sorry for me. I'm...I'm still working it out, b-but I'm sure I'll be fine with his help."

"His? His who?"

"Snatcher. The ghost the children hang around with." Cookie gave her a look over confused as to why her answer was that making Poppy feel criticized. "...What?"

"Nothing. I'm just surprised that old ghosty's offered to be some kind of use instead of sitting on that pillow stack reading some kind of book complaining 'bout somethin' or stealing my bacon. But then again I don't know him too well, so it's awefully nice of him to offer his help to you. " Shaking her head she turned around towards the exit and motioned for Poppy to follow her. "C'mon now. Let's get you some food. I bet you're just starving."

"Yeah. Hungry.".....Cookie knew Snatcher. The thought made her look back up at Cookie who by now had stood back in the exit waiting patiently for her to come over and she did. "Hey. You met Snatcher before right? What's he usually like?"

She shrugged. "Like I said I don't know him all too well. Just that he steals food and acts like Conductor if Conductor was less yell-y and always had his nose stuck in a book all the time."

Poppy didn't know who Conductor was but she'd take Cookie's word for it. Pressing the red button on the side again, they ascended back up to the chilly storage room. From there the red head followed the small calico as she happily walked towards the ladder to climb back up it. Even though the hurt hand was better, Poppy thought she had better stay off it for the time being until all the soreness left it, so for now she'd have to climb the ladder and crawl through the small hallway painfully slowly like before....Which took a LONG time, but she was glad to get out of that chilly room none the less. And before she knew it, she was standing on the other side of that tiny hallway stretching her back out and sighing as she walk around normally for the most part now. The girls were there too, giggling as they watched a funny picture show on the tv showing a cartoon Moon Penguin chasing a mouse who stole it's fish, only for the penguin to trip over his own flippers and land face first into a pie randomly on the floor. Both girls giggling at the funny sight. Next to them were empty plates and forks obviously from whatever Cookie had made them. Said cat walked on over to the young girls who briefly looked up to her as she picked up the plates and patted each on the head before both young ladies turned back to their entertainment on screen.

Cookie gestured Poppy to follow her before turning to the ramp. "Come on. I'll show you where the kitchen is."

With that she turned and began her way back up the ramp, stepping over Rumbi casually sweeping a path down it.  Poppy blinked, but followed none the less. She just hoped the kitchen wasn't a teeny space as well. Walking past the girls, they giggled again at something goofy the penguin did and she smiled at their adorable child giggles before walking past them and up the ramp, taking a GIANT step around Rumbi and giving the robot vacum cleaner a suspicious look before walking the rest of the way up there. As she walked, poppy glanced at everything she passes. The screen that had the number 1000 on it plus a picture of an hourglass, a giant vault that looked a lot like the bank's old vault, and then finally over to the two double doors which was to her relief and surprise her size. Pushing one of the door slowly opened, the lady slowly poked her head in. A rug of more blue gears under her feet.......and a surprisingly normal kitchen is what greeted her. A stove was in the far corner, with a sink, fridge, counter, cabinets and a shelf full of plates, cups, and other dishes. The kitchen was actually rather non-alien compared to the other rooms she's seen so far with the checkered floor, and soft blue walls. There was a few paintings on the wall and a small plant in the corner to add to the calm atmosphere. The only really strange thing about it would be the giant telescope sitting in the middle of the room. Cookie was busy putting the dirty dishes in the sink before she smiled from her place standing on a chair and turned back to Poppy.

"Well, don't be shy. Come on in and I'll grab you you're plate." Poppy did noticing there really wasn't any table to eat at as Cookie hopped off the chair with a small thud and walked on over to the fridge in the corner. Didn't look like the kind of fridge she had back when she was a kid. She watched in slight amazement as Cookie opened it and reached into one of shelves her height to pull out a small plate. "I hope you don't mind cold food."

"What is it?," she asked as Cookie walked over to her, closing the fridge with her foot holding the plate up.

"Just a drumstick and some mashed potatoes. Sorry if it's not enough. Those little tykes eat more than you think." The cat held the plate up to her and true to her word there was a small drumstick and mashed potatoes on it which Poppy graciously took.

"N-no. It's plenty. You've done more than enough for me. Thank you." OH GOSH. It smelt so good even though it was cold, her stomach rumbled again and in an instant her mouth watered. Forgetting about her thick leather apron, she let it drop to the ground in favor of grabbing that fork and eating....

....

.......HOLY PECK!!

It was delicious! The potatoes were so creamy and well smashed and put together! And she'd never tasted gravy quite like this before! It was delicious! It was...it was....a flavor she couldn't explain because she'd never tasted it before! And the bird...OH! The roasted bird was GLORIOUS!! She had bird before but never like this! It was tender yet juicy with bread crumbs and seasoning mixing in giving it that extra flavoring caused by spices. Cookie chuckled at the sight, already used to the reactions people had to her food by now and turned around to go back to the counter as Poppy ate with a happy hum and sparkly wide eyes to her heart's content. The growling in her stomach finally being cured from her dilema of being hungry. Cookie after a moment of standing on the chair again to get to the counter managed to fill up a glass of water before hopping off back onto the floor and walked her way over to the woman currently smiling at the food and stopped mid bite at the cat's chuckling. "My, my. Such a healthy appetite." Poppy immediately straightened up and gave a sheepish smile. "Um..S-Sorry. I guess I was just so hungry. And this is SO good! I've never tasted anything like it." She chuckled again holding up the water to her. "I'm glad you think so. Here. Take this. You'll be needing something to wash it down with." "Oh. Thank you." As she bent down to take the water, Cookie symaltaniously took the plate that was nothing but crumbs and a drumstick bone by now and made a turn to go back to the sink. "Y-You're a really good cook. I'm surprised no one ever gave you a job before." She shrugged hopping back up to the counter and sink, placing the dirty dishes within. "I'll take all of that as a compliment, and no need to thank me, Sugar. I'm always happy to hear such nice words for my simple dishes......OH!! I nearly forgot!" She turned back to Poppy. "I think I found something of yours." Reaching her paw into a pocket, Cookie pulled out a shiny golden bracelet that got Poppy's eyes widening and she briefly choked on her water. "It fell out of one of your apron pocket's all dirty like. So I cleaned it up for ya." "M-My bracelet!" In an instant Poppy rushed over, glass cup abandoned on the counter in favor for her to latch both hands around the bracelet and look at it. Her reflection staring back up at her in wonder before looking back at Poppy. "Y-Yes. It is. T-Thank you." The cat smiled and went to answer- DING!! DING!! DING!! Poppy jumped and both turned their heads to a wall plastered onto the far side of the wall singing as the start of a new hour had begun and Cookie gave a small gasp to the time. "Oh goodness! Eight already? Oh no. I must've lost track of time." With a quick jump from the chair, the cat paddled her way over towards the kitchen doors. Poppy blinked but followed non the less as she still muttered. "Silly me. Count on me to forget things so easily. Muriel's going to be so worried about me the poor sugarcude." She muttered to herself as she exited the doors making both children below pause from their current cartoon and look up towards the two ladies exiting the kitchen. "D-Does that mean you're leaving?," Poppy asked behind her. Cookie momentarily stopped and turned to give her an apologetic look. "I'm afraid so. I'm really sorry to leave so sudden like this, but I have to get up real early if I wanna make it to my breakfast cooking show tomorrow and I have a gal at home who won't sleep unless I tell her to. And I need some kind of sleep tonight-" Poppy held up her hands. "No, no. It's perfectly fine. You must be busy being a mother and having a job. My mother was the same way." "So understanding. Than you so much." "Oh w-wait a minute." Poppy looked back over to the window and outerspace behind it. "H-How are you doing to get home? Are they going to teleport you with their magic umbrellas?" Cookie gave a laugh and shook her head. "No need." Her paw reached over to her sleeve to pull it down and reveal a watch?? "I can use my teleporter to go back to Mr. Grooves's moon studio and catch a bus back to the planet." "Are you leaving now?," Bow stood up yawning and looked up at the cat who continued down the ramp and gave a sad smile to the two children. "Yes. I'm afraid so, Honeypie. But don't worry. Ya'll can see me tomorrow on my morning show." Both young girls awed in disappointment but got up as she got down to the bottom of the ramp and stopped by the giant Tv to hold out her arms to hug the girls good bye. "Oh there there," she cooed motherly and smiled brightly, "You'll see me again, but I have grown up stuff to do. What you all can do is take care of that friend of yours alright?" Both agreed and reluctant let go of her, Cookie patting each of them on the head before turning her attention to Poppy and waving a paw. "You take care too now ya hear. And don't go treading through any more swamp water without an extra dress." Poppy didn't get a chance to get anymore than a wave good bye as Cookie already pressed a button on her watch and in a flash of sparkles the cat was gone. She stopped and stared at the empty space the cat was by the children for a moment before shivering. She'd NEVER get used to the act of everyone disappearing and reappearing at will in front of her, but those sparkly blue eyes soon turned there direction down towards the shimmer and shine of the gold bracelet still protectively held within her hands, her blue eyes and messy red hair staring back at her. For a moment she could remember the soft brown eyes and the kind smile of the friend who gave it to her. Silly insisting she'd take it as payment for a simple bouquet of wild rainbow daises. ....The last thing she had to remember him by outside of memories. A small sad feeling came over her but was interrupted by the sounds of Bow yawning and stretching her body out which was followed by another loud yawn by Hattie. Oh yeah. Cookie did say something about it being eight p.m.. That would be pretty late by child standards, so it would probably be best if they slept for the night. Plus isn't she supposed to be helping out these little two until that Snatcher ghosts gets finished with whatever business he had? Yeah. Better get these tykes to sleep now. "Kids. I know I don't have much authority probably but I think it's best you get to sleep." Both girls looked up at her as she walked down the ramp towards them both. As expected Hattie gave a small whine. "One more Cheesy Penguin episode. PLEEEAAASE!!," she pleaded give Poppy big eyes that honestly melted her heart and she MIGHT have said yes if Bow hadn't grabbed her hand and tugged her towards the hallway toward the bathroom downstairs. "Hattie! No more trouble today, and I'm tired. I wanna sleep." Her friend groaned throwing her head back. "Fffffiiiiine. But I won't like it!" Poppy gave a small smile and giggle at their antics. they acted more like sisters than friends..Well she guessed they were if Snatcher adopted the both of them. "Nice choice. Now go wash up for bed." ".....Wait." Hattie looked back up to Poppy with a confused look. "Where are YOU gonna sleep?" "She can sleep on the pillow pile?," Bow suggested. Poppy honestly stopped for a moment and gave the kids a blank look. That...That was a fairly good point. Where WAS she supposed to sleep on this space ship? All the rooms were thankfully big enough for her to stand up in(well all the rooms she's seen so far), but she'd have to crawl on her hands and knees to get to them. Looking back to her hand with the bracelet, she moved it a lil bit. The scrapes and sore muscles didn't hurt her anymore but a small dull soreness but it would be best to stay off it at least until tomorrow for the time being. So for now she wouldn't be crawling around so that meant she was probably bunking here or in the kitchen for the night, her blue eyes scowled at Rumbi as he still swept around casually. She still didn't trust that thing so in the kitchen it was. Wasn't very appealing but she'd have to make due with what she had. "I can sleep in the kitchen tonight. I really don't mind." Hattie made a face like she was crazy. "No you can't. whoever heard of sleeping in a kitchen? That's funny." "Well, I'm certainly not in any mood to be crawling around anymore small hallways. I'd rather sleep somewhere I'd be able to move around easier in without having to crawl around on my wrist." She held up her hand before pointing to Rumbi. "And n-no offense but I don't really exactly trust that thing yet." "Hey! Rumbi's a cleaner not a thing!" Hattie yawned again before wiping at her face again. "........What about the attic? It's really big." "....Your spaceship has an attic?" "Yeah! I'll show you!" As if the tiredness had left her completely for the excitement of showing Poppy even more of her ship, Hattie jumped to her feet and ran up to the ramp and Poppy. Who yelped and stumbled back from the small girl grabbing her hand as she ran by and yanked her back up the ramp towards an orange ramp going up and down. Gosh her grip was strong for a small child wasn't it? "It's up there!" She pointed up to an opening in the ceiling and Poppy rose a brow at it all. Since when did a spaceship have an attic? Well she's never been on one before either so maybe they naturally came with one. But that unsure uneasy feeling in her stomach returned when that orange pad came all the way back to the ground again and with a yank and yelp from Poppy Hattie pulled her right onto the elevator thing. "Uh...Maybe I'll just sleep on the flOOR-" The sudden movement under her feet made her gasp and lean forward, almost tettering on the edge of falling off, waving her arms aroundfor something to grab as Bow made a gasp from below. Panic filled her being for a brief moment but at the last second the strong willed child managed to grab her dress and yank her back into a standing position. Poppy still wobbling around but thankfully missing the ceiling as they went up through the hole in the ceiling.....But fell down face first onto the attic floor with what followed by a ripping sound as something gave way. "OOF!!" Hattie stood there for a moment before she blinked and hopped off the platform before it went back down, a small piece of blue fabric in her hands. She looked down to the blue piece of the dress in her hands before looking over to Poppy who coughed and pushed herself halfway up off the floor, most of the dress was still in tact thankfully but a bigger piece of the bottom of her dress was missing and that missing piece happened to be the same piece in the child's hands. ......Who quickly hid it behind her back when Poppy looked up and blew the long red hair outta her face and stared at her with a sigh. "Uh...Oops?"  She slowly pulled her hand from behind her back and Poppy sighed again before pushing herself up her to her knees. The room was fairly dark but she could see everything from the giant chandelier on the ceiling and the candle holders on the wall. She froze blue eyes slowly up towards the tall ceiling above them both. Stylish wood adorened the floor and walls, though there was some cobwebs and dust scattered about. Quiet ticked by in the room except for the actual ticking coming from an old grandfather clock in the far end of the room. There was a few other things as well like a crate here n there and a couple chests. Two dressers, a wardrobe, red chair, globe on the fair side, and a carpet leading all the way over towards the giant three windows. From there she had a pretty good view of the black space and beautiful twinkling stars beyond the glass. Hattie bounded a few steps across the carpet kicking up some dust from the old carpet and stopped, beaming at Poppy and throwing her hands out. "See? Is it ok?" Poppy stayed on her knees for a moment before slowly rising to her feet. Her head still swiveling around to look at everything in the room taking it all in, surprised such a big room existed in a seemingly tiny ship. Then again she should really stop being surprised at this point. As she blinked and slowly looked back to Hattie. "Uh...Y-Yeah. This would be really ok." "Oh good! I can let you borrow a pillow or two but the blankets are mine." The child yawned again as she went towards the exit mostly tired by now but Poppy was only half listening as she still looked around the place. "Uh....Y-Yeah. It's fine." She looked down and had to do a double take as Hattie ran right past her and towards the exit. "H-Hey! Where are you going?" "To get that pillow. I'll be right back promise!" She smiled tiredly before literally jumping down the hold making Poppy give a light gasp and reach out for her......But considering they were already used to this sort of thing she just sighed and pulled her arm back to her side and gave another look around the giant place. Ending it with a sigh. Sleep would not come easy for her tonight.