#My favorite's gotta be a tie between this one and Monkey Watch

[shima-draws]

Hold on wait I gotta jam for a second

[heli0s-writes]

Surprises

Summary: You and Bucky babysit the Barton clan. Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: Silliness, little angst at the end. TW: Mentions infertility.

Bag of Tricks One-Shot Masterlist

You are surprisingly good with kids.

When you visited the Barton farm for the first time, all of Clint’s kids loved you. After the initial excitement over Captain America, Thor, and Auntie Nat, they always came back to you. You’d be plopped down on the couch, flipping through the channels, and Clint’s daughter would find her way into your lap with a picture book.

To be polite, you had read it to her the first time, accidentally becoming very invested in the Lorax’s plight for environmental justice and the next thing you knew, your voice was loud and booming, rising and falling with the cadence of each line. The boys had shown up, too, clapping and cheering at the end and requested another book.

Clint never let you live down reading his kids four books that evening. And building a blanket fort. And rolling yourself up in the blanket and hobbling after them.

The next time you returned, Lila had moved onto chapter books, and you were happy to help her read those as well. She had a lot of questions about volcanoes and dinosaurs, and you would answer them to the best of your ability. She knew quite a lot for a 2nd grader, so you ended up asking her quite a few questions about volcanoes and dinosaurs as well (who the heck knows how to pronounce Deinonychus anyway?)

At the end of the night, she was curled up in your lap while you braided her hair. You were glad she fell asleep because it was quite honestly a travesty that all 7 braids were different sizes and shapes.

“You ever think about raising your own kid?” Clint asked later that night. “In this business? Pfft.”

So, you settled on being the Barton’s babysitter when they needed one. And on one dark October night, you enlist Bucky Barnes’ help.

-

“Can you braid my hair while we watch the movie?” Lila asks as she settles in next to you on the couch. Cooper and Nate are down on their bellies in front, squished pillows underneath them to soften the hardwood flooring.

“Lila,” You sigh, “You don’t remember this, but last time I braided your hair… you looked terrible.”

“It’s okay.” She giggles, “It just feels nice!”

Bucky is on the other side of the couch, gaze attached to the slasher movie you had been told specifically not to put on for the kids. With a slight kick to his knee, you ask him for help with your eyes. Lila doesn’t know, but you can’t braid worth a shit—most of what happened to her hair last time had a lot to do with sheer dumb luck. And it was still a travesty.

She might say that she doesn’t care, but you know any eight-year-old girl cares about what their hair looks like. Even if it’s just a night in with her brothers.

He sends you an annoyed look back, because you dragged him to bumfuck middle of 80 acres of nowhere and he’s watching Planet Terror with a bunch of children. Barton is going to skin his ass when he gets back.

“Bucky, can you braid?” You whisper as Rose McGowan fires her fucking machinegun leg and the ricochet shudders through the T.V.

“Yes.” He replies.

“Help a girl out, man.” You motion to Lila, who has now covered her eyes as red sprays from an enormous wound. Bucky grimaces at the way your fingers have separated three locks. Already it is a tangled mess and you haven’t even started.

“What are you trying to do? Give the kid dreadlocks?” He scowls, slapping your hand away and scooting over so that she’s now mostly in front of him and you are squished and diagonal, pushed away by his shoulder. In mere minutes he makes short work of the herculean task you had tried to take on.

It’s a perfect fishtail braid, and he’s even used strands of her hair to wrap around the elastic neatly. You stare open-mouthed at him as Lila pats the back of her head and happily squeals at what he’s done. Bucky grunts in reply and then sinks back into the sofa, crossing his arms.

“I gotta turn this off. This can’t be good for the kids.”

--

“EARTHQUAKE!” You scream, grabbing the edge of the dinner table and rocking it so hard all the pieces of the board game fall over. Cooper is out of his seat, throwing his hands up in the air as he yells, “CHEATER!” And Nate looks like he’s on the verge of tears.

Lila could care less, still enamored by her beautifully weaved locks.

Bucky puts his face in his hands as you expertly dodge the metal dog and thimble piece Cooper is throwing at you. It’s bad enough that you had been massively in debt to the bank but shaking the board because you were losing is a new level of low. The kids chase you around the house and throw pillows at you when you climb too far out of their reach. Pastel strips of Monopoly money lay scattered all over the house.

Bucky hisses your name as you perch on the hutch in the dining room. “Get down from there! Christ!”

Nate tosses a cushion up that you swat away easily. Cooper throws a cookie that you catch in your mouth. “I’ll die before I come down.” You mutter, “Stupid, capitalist, Monopoly-monocle’d, pocketwatched motherfu—”

A pillow to the face muffles the rest of your complaint and Bucky points at you in a silent scolding. Thank God he has good aim because if the Bartons come home from date night and little Nate was calling someone a motherfucker, Laura would skin his ass.

“You are terrible with children!” He whispers when the kids leave the room to find something else to do.

Slowly, you climb down and pat his shoulder. “My favorite part about kids is the part where I give them back to their parents.” You admit. “I didn’t think they’d take this long.”

From the corner of the dining room, Nate and Cooper rush forward screaming at you. Pillows are raised high above their heads as they leap and pummel you with the fluffy squares. You shriek and fall down and make a huge show about it—something about melting and turning green and flying monkeys. It’s all too much, but the kids love it and tell you it’s what you deserve for being a cheater.

But then Nate and Cooper yelp as you snatch their ankles in your hand and stand tall, holding them upside down. It’s easy to forget that you have super-human strength because you certainly don’t look like it. But it’s on display now as you spin around on your heels and take the boys circling with you.

Nate’s head misses the corner of a wooden chair by centimeters and Bucky thinks he might fucking faint. Lila takes this opportunity to try and jump on your back to save her brothers, but she’s just a fraction too slow and your arm crashes into her instead, sending all three siblings tumbling and you as well.

Bucky sighs severely as he stands over the mess in the kitchen. One adult (tentatively labeled), three children, rubbing their heads and limbs, pouting like babies. There is a swelling mark underneath Nate’s hairline and he rubs it gingerly, whimpering when his fingers touch it.

You run to the refrigerator for an icepack before he can burst into tears.

-

Forgiveness is earned after three hurriedly made root beer floats—extra whipped cream piled so high that it overtakes the entire glass and the kids stick half their noses in it to try and lick some off. You slump heavily in a chair and dig a spoon into your own glass of fizzing cream and soda.

A single cherry is plopped on top of the bubbles. Bucky peers down at you, licking the syrup off his finger with a smirk.

“I guess you’re not so bad with kids.” He says, glancing over at where the three previously dour Bartons sit, now giddy with cheer as they slurp their desserts. Cooper has stuck his finger in his glass, scooping up the last remnants of sweetness before turning over and eyeing Nate’s half-full container.  

You throw the cherry into your mouth and grin, “Yeah. I’m kind of a miracle worker.” And then your tongue pokes around in your mouth and you shut one eye as if in intense contemplation. When you stick your tongue out again, the cherry stem has been tied into a little knot, glistening with spit.

“Woah!” Lila yells, “How’d you do that?”

“I wanna learn!” Cooper rushes forward, peering at the stem between your fingers, and then all three kids are screeching, “me too!” and jumping in circles around the table. Bucky puts both his hands up when you start explaining what to do because he—an actual, reasonable, adult—does not think teaching three kids to tie a cherry stem into a knot is a good idea.

Before he can do much else, the Barton children are shoving each other and arguing. Then they break out into laughter and take off into the living room. All Bucky hears next is screaming and the sound of six feet jumping on every cushion there is. They tumble, wrestle, run, and in general act like little hazards. Nate screeches at the top of his lungs—just because, apparently.

Bucky takes your spoon from your mouth and scoops a big chunk of ice cream for himself, resigned to getting skinned. When Clint and Laura come home and find their kids cracked out on sugar at—he checks the clock—good fuck, half past midnight, they are going to kill the both of you.

The spoon is still in his mouth when he mumbles, “You are terrible with kids.”

--

“Huh.” Clint says when he enters the living room and finds all five of you settled in comfortably with the children sound asleep. Laura’s cheeks are a bit peachier than you remember and there’s a lazy little smile that graces her features as she peers down at her children.

“Sorry—they fell asleep during the movie and I didn’t have the heart to wake ‘em up.” You say with a sheepish grin, tilting your chin up and watching him upside down.

“That’s okay, kid.” Clint grins, hand on his hip. “Jeez, you really wore ‘em out. What’dja do?” He gives Bucky a curious look but doesn’t say much else. The two of you are sharing a blanket in the middle of the floor, heads propped up by one couch cushion. Lila is to your left with her head on your arm, fishtail braid bursting apart, strands of hair flaying about around her head like a halo. Cooper and Nate are on the other side of Bucky, mouths open and snoring softly.

They’re even changed into their pajamas, teeth brushed and everything.

Slowly, Clint picks up Lila and Cooper and Laura does the same to Nate. They go upstairs to put the kids to bed while you and Bucky peel the blanket off, quietly making your exit.

Before you can reach the car, the front door swings shut and Clint is stepping out with his hands tucked in his pockets. “Hey.” He calls, “Thanks for the night. Laura and I haven’t been out alone in months.”

“Don’t mention it.” You beam. Behind you, Bucky scoffs just enough for you to hear.

“You sure you don’t want any kids? You’re damn good with ‘em.”

Bucky snorts louder, kicks the dirt beneath this boot and puts his hand on your shoulder, “Her favorite part is giving ‘em back.” He announces before you clamp your hand over his mouth. His eyes twinkle under the moonlight as Clint waves goodbye and retreats into his home. The screen door clicks quietly, and you watch the yellow glow of each room turn off until the cabin is just an afterimage against the darkness.

“You think brushing twice was good?” You mutter with a sigh as Bucky pulls out of the dirt driveway.

“No, which was why I suggested mouthwash.”

A silence passes before you suck on your teeth and say, “Hey, check it out.”

Peeling your lips back, you show him the cherry stem from earlier in the night, now neatly tied with another knot next to the first one. Bucky scoffs and snatches it from your teeth.

“I swear to all fuck, how you got them fooled is beyond me. Fuckin’ Planet Terror, then shaking the goddamn Monopoly board, and then teaching fuckin’ kids how to tie--” he throws the stem back in your face, “and then ice cream at midnight.”

“Hey! They had fun!” You cry, dodging him.

“They threw up!”

You cackle, because they did all throw up, and it was really funny. Bucky groans and rolls his eyes because you would absolutely be the worst mother. Your kids would grow up in the most chaotic household. But, he thinks, they’d be loved. So maybe you wouldn’t be the worst. You also had them help you clean up the house and were firm with them when they didn’t want to. Bucky feels a smile grow on his face. Maybe you are good with children.

“You’re pretty responsible, Buck. You think you’ll ever have kids?”

It’s a quiet question. Suddenly your demeanor is sullen as you turn to gaze out the window, peering at the full moon and he knows where your mind has wandered to.

Clint has something the rest of you can only dream about. You might crack jokes about being terrible with children, but it’s no secret that domesticity is something you long for. A baked apple pie in the windowsill, running under summer sprinklers, hanging the sheets up to dry, dancing through the living room barefoot, kind of life.

There are mobiles of stars and paper airplanes in your dreams, swaddling cloth with giraffes and moons. Gerber Baby food jars and baby-proofed corners. There are nights when you think about what the gene experiments did to your body and all you can do is stare silently.

The irony of you being so good with children is not lost on him.

A warm hand clamps itself over yours. Bucky links his flesh fingers through your smaller ones, holds onto the wheel with his metal hand.

“Nah.” Bucky says, “My favorite thing to do with kids is give ‘em back.”

A short laugh escapes as you grip his hand tighter, letting the moment pass on by like it always does. Usually you ride the wave on your own, crash on your own, and awaken the next morning in disarray on your own. But this time, his warm hand is holding you steady as the pain crests and ebbs away.

“Hey.” You say, rubbing your thumb over his in a surprising show of affection. Bucky feels his heart pick up a faster beat as you worry your lip with your teeth. Then, because you’re always full of surprises, you stick your tongue out where the cherry stem has collected another knot. “Check it out.”

He laughs, a deep, rumbling, genuinely joyful sound as he squeezes your hand. “You’ll have to teach me that some time.” He jokes-- anything to keep you from looking so sad.

Your lashes flutter as you blink slowly in contemplation. Bucky’s heart picks up again when you turn to him and shyly say, “If you pull over, I can teach you right now.”

[littlemarvelfics]

A Trip to the Zoo

Pairing: Dad!Steve x Reader

Word Count: about 1,100

Square filled: a trip to the zoo

Warnings: so much fluff. Like the most fluff.

A/N: This is entirely self-serving. Dad!Steve is wonderful and honestly, I just need him to be happy. For those of you that missed the last post I’m not putting any links or tags in the original posting of anything I write. I gotta ruin that a little to say this is for @marvelfluffbingo ‘s for the square ‘going to the zoo’  I think it might be hiding me from searches and the lack of notes on some of these things are bumming me out. My bio is updated to help y’all navigate (I hope). I’m reblogging with tags immediately after posting. Now on with the show! 

You ran around the house, gathering snacks and drinks into a backpack. Going through your mental checklist, you decided you had everything you needed for your zoo trip- except a dressed kid and husband.

“Steve? What's going on up there?” you yelled out.

When no answer came, you jogged up the stairs towards Teddy’s room. You stopped outside the door when you heard giggling.

“Daddy, have you seen a dinosaur before?” your son asked.

“I can't say that I have bud. Why?”

“Because you’re old. Mommy says that all the time.”

You stifled a laugh with your hand and waited for Steve’s answer.

“Mommy is just mean,” he answered with a chuckle.

You swung open the door with an elaborate gasp.

“I’m mean?!”

“If you’re telling my son that I’m old, yeah you're a little mean!” he said with a smile.

“Well, your ‘mean’ wife would like to go to the zoo now. What do you boys say?”

“Let's go!” your son yelled as he took off running down the stairs.

Steve walked over to you and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“You’re not mean, you know that right?”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don't,” you teased, tilting your head to the side with a smile.

Steve leaned in and kissed you gently.

“How ‘bout now?”

“You’re forgiven,” you said with a laugh. “Now let’s go wrangle the little monster and hit the road.”

You and Steve walked back downstairs and saw your son struggling to get his shoes tied. He was mumbling to himself though you couldn't quite make out what he was saying.

“Teddy?” Steve asked. “You need some help buddy?”

Teddy looked up and nodded silently, disappointment clear on his face.

“You know,” Steve said as he crouched down in front of Teddy, tying his shoes quickly. “It took Uncle Bucky months to learn to tie his shoes. And mom just taught you last week!”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” he said, lifting him up and balancing him on his hip. “You’ll learn, you just gotta practice.”

Teddy seemed to accept that as an answer and nodded again only this time with a smile on his face.

You picked up your backpack and Steve headed out towards the car to get Teddy settled into his car seat. Once everyone was settled and buckled, you all hit the road- Steve driving while you and Teddy made faces at each other in the rearview mirror. You made your way to the Bronx Zoo, singing along to the radio the whole way there. Walking through the entrance, you grabbed a wagon for Teddy before he spoke up.

“Wait! Mommy, did you pack my monkey?!” he asked urgently.

“Of course I did baby,” you responded, unzipping the backpack and pulling out Teddy’s prized possession, a stuffed brown monkey toy.

He took it from you and gripped it tightly to his chest, looking around at the other kids while you and Steve made a plan for the day. Knowing you would need to spend the majority of your trip at the monkey exhibits, you started towards the back of the park. You and Steve listened intently as Teddy told you stories, things he had learned in kindergarten and the antics he got into the last time Bucky babysat. He was just telling you how Bucky had promised him an extra scoop of ice cream if he didn’t tell you and Steve about the mess the two of them had made in the house when you walked up to the gorilla exhibit.

“‘Rillas!” he yelled, pointing towards the encolure.

You scooped him out of the wagon and plopped him on his feet. He quickly took your hand and pulled you over to the window. He pushed up on his tiptoes and you felt Steve kiss your head as he came up behind you.

“Dadddyyyyyy,” Teddy whined. “I can’t see! Lift me please!”

Steve chuckled and lifted Teddy up, swinging him around until he was placed on his shoulders, wrapping his arms around Teddy’s legs securely.

Teddy contently sat his dad’s shoulders, watching the gorillas as you snapped a few pictures of both the enclosed and your boys, smiling as Steve told him about going to the zoo with Uncle Bucky when he was a kid. Once Teddy had decided he had enough of the gorillas, you moved on walking around the park slowly until you decided it was time to stop for lunch.

Steve sent you to find a place to sit while he took care of getting the food. Teddy continued talking a mile a minute until he asked you a question.

“Mama, who do you think is stronger? Uncle Bucky or daddy?”

You suppressed a laugh as you answered.

“I dunno buddy, why?”

“I wanna know if either of them could beat up a ‘rilla!”

“I think the ‘rillas might beat both of them,” you said with a laugh, tickling Teddy’s sides until he was giggling too.

“What’s so funny over here?” Steve asked as he walked up, balancing two trays of food and drinks.

Teddy answered before you could say anything.

“Mommy says that a ‘rilla could beat up you AND Uncle Bucky!” he exclaimed, still giggling.

Steve looked at you with his mouth hanging open.

“I’m old AND I’m getting beat up by a gorilla?!”

You giggled and rolled your eyes.

“Sit down and give us food please,” you said with a grin.

Steve shook his head and sat down next to Teddy. You opened up the ketchup packets Steve had brought along, squeezing them out onto the side of Teddy’s plate for his fries. You and Steve listened to Teddy ramble on in between bites about his favorite animals so far and which ones he wanted to see next. Once you finished eating and had your table cleaned up, you plopped Teddy back into his wagon and went off to the zoo again. You watched the sea lions as the performed tricks and you could hear the shutter on Steve’s phone as he took pictures of you and Teddy who was sat in your lap. You walked through the bird sanctuary and Teddy pointed out birds that he thought might be friends with Uncle Sam when he flies around.

Once Teddy was successfully worn out, you walked out of the zoo and loaded him into the car- he was asleep within minutes. Steve reached over and squeezed your knee.

“Hey,” he mumbled.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“For what handsome?” you asked, confused.

“For calling me an old man. And telling me I’d get beat up by gorillas. And giving me the most incredible son and an incredible life that I thought I had lost my chance at. Just… thank you.”

“Well I hope you’re ready for more trouble,” you said, grinning at him.

“Wait.. what?” he said, quickly looking over at you. “Are you… are you pregnant?”

“Yeah,” you said, tearing up. “Yeah, I am.”

Steve immediately pulled the car over and turned to face you.

“Pregnant?” he asked, smiling.

“Yeah, I took two tests last week. I was gonna do some big elaborate things but I really wanted you to know now.”

Steve leaned over and kissed you, grinning as he pulled away.

“So… double the trouble huh?”

“Double the trouble.”

[waveridden]

FIC: apple cider, i don’t mind

Dak turns around, and Max jumps onto his back in a well-practiced motion. “Who’s ready for an open house?” (Dak/Tech parent/teacher AU, 2.9k)

AUcember || title lyric || read on ao3

#

Dak cups his hands around his mouth. “Max!” he shouts up the stairs. “Come on, buddy, we gotta get going!”

“I can’t find my backpack!” Max yells back.

“You left it in the kitchen! And you don’t need the backpack, this is just an open house!”

“I can’t go to school without a backpack, you made me promise!”

“This isn’t a normal school day, and we’re running late!”

Max gasps from upstairs, surprisingly loud with his little seven-year-old lungs. That’s one of the crazy things about kids: they’re fucking loud. They talk loud. They scream loud. Even their dramatic gasps are loud enough to hear downstairs. “Mister Z doesn’t like it when people are late!”

“Then we’d better get going,” Dak says, or starts to say when Max comes barrelling down the stairs and more or less leaps into Dak’s chest, full-force.

Dak catches him, because what kind of an uncle would he be if he dropped him, and drops him on the stairs. Max lands with a quiet oof and a giggle and looks up at Dak. “I think you’re gonna like Mister Z.”

Max loves Mister Z. He has made absolutely no secret of it. Dak doesn’t know anything about the guy, other than he teaches second grade and he is Max’s all-time favorite person right now. Also, he’s apparently into all the weird science projects that kids love, with the slime and the volcanoes and maybe a class pet or something, Dak can’t really keep track. But he does want to meet the guy for himself.

“I think I am too.” Dak ruffles Max’s hair and then looks down. Max is wearing a bow tie with his Spiderman T-shirt. “Whoa there, kiddo, what’s with the fancy outfit?”

Max’s cheeks flush pink. “It’s a special day,” he says defensively.

Dak knows exactly why Max is dressed up, probably. Max told Pox that he has a crush on Mister Z, and because Pox is the coolest goddamn babysitter in the world, she immediately told Dak about it. Pox is fucking great, because sometimes she lets Dak just pay her with food, and because Max loves her, and because she tells Dak the important secrets that his nephew is keeping.

“Okay,” Dak says placatingly. “Stand up, c’mere, let me fix it.”

Max’s eyes narrow, but he stands up, and Dak bends down to adjust the bow tie. “Normally we put these with the shirts with the collars, you know that?”

“You call those monkey suit shirts.”

“Yeah, and I have a job where I never have to wear them, but it’s nice to have ‘em if you ever wanna wear a tie around your neck.”

“Where else would you wear it?”

“Around your head, like a bandana.”

Max giggles. “That’s silly!”

“Of course it is!” Dak turns around, and Max jumps onto his back in a well-practiced motion. “Who’s ready for an open house?”

“Me!” Max shouts.

“Who’s ready to meet Mister Z?”

“You!”

“And who’s ready to get McDonald’s afterwards?”

“Both of us!”

“Hell yeah, both of us!” Dak lifts one hand behind his head, and Max smacks it in the tiniest, greatest seven-year-old high five known to man. “Let’s get going!”

#

The facts are these:

First, Dak didn’t ever really intend to have kids. He and Shirley talked about it back in the day, and after they broke up he never really saw much of a point in being a dad. He likes kids, sure, but he also likes driving trucks and being on the open road and all that shit. He likes that he can leave home for a few weeks and not worry about coming back. He likes listening to audiobooks and being by himself.

Second, he didn’t know his sister that well before she died. Carrie was a good twelve years younger than him, and they were never all that close. He knew that she had kids, had even met them once or twice. And he knew that her husband was a real shitbag, but he had never stopped to think about… well, about custody or any of that. He figured that she had her own life, and she would work all that out, and it would be fine.

Third, there was a car accident that took Carrie, and her baby, and Max’s leg from the knee down. And fourth, completely without Dak’s knowledge, he was listed as Max’s legal guardian if anything happened to Carrie. And that was how Dak ended up with a four-year-old and no fucking clue what to do with him.

It’s the kind of thing where there’s no learning curve, and he figured that out real fucking quick. Kids don’t care that you’ve never had a kid before, they care about getting a grilled cheese and cool pajamas. It’d totally rearranged Dak’s life, and as much as he loves Max now, it was fucking hard. It was really fucking hard.

It was worth it, though. Dak knows it was worth it every time he high-fives Max, and every time he stays up late helping Max through his English homework, and every single morning he wakes up and this kid is still here. It’s worth it.

#

Mister Z is a little younger than Dak expected. He’s sitting on his desk in the front of the room, talking to a woman who has three tiny kids running around her, but he still catches Dak’s eye and nods when Dak walks in. Dak nods back, as though he has any idea what’s happening, and lets Max start dragging him around the room.

He’s been to a couple open houses at this point, and he’s still not really sure what the point is. Especially considering that he has to deal with how weird people get every time he introduces himself as Max’s uncle - no, not his dad, yes, his guardian, and why the fuck are you asking what happened to his parents, that’s fucking insane. People have no sense of privacy.

“This is my desk,” Max announces, tugging on Dak’s hand as they reach a desk in the corner of the room. “This is where I sit and take notes and read books under the desk sometimes, but the books are always about science so it’s okay.”

“Where do you get science books?” Dak says, which he knows is probably not the right parental response, but fucking whatever, uncle privileges. “Should I be buying you science books?”

“We have a library,” Max says, in the most /duh tone of voice that Dak has ever heard from him. He is, despite literally all logic, very proud. “The new librarian Mister The Tech Wizard helps me find good science books, and sometimes he gets me the third and fourth grade ones even though I’m only in second grade, because he says I’m good at reading them.”

“Whoa, slow your roll there.” Dak rests a hand on Max’s desk, running one finger across Max’s nametag taped to the top. “You got a new librarian and his name is-”

“Mister The Tech Wizard,” Max repeats dutifully. “He says we don’t have to call him Mister or anything, and that The Tech Wizard is an old nickname that just kind of stuck, and a lot of the kids just call him Tech Wizard, but I wanna be respectful, because he’s helping me. So I call him Mister The Tech Wizard.”

“Max is very into respect,” a new voice says. Dak is completely unsurprised to look over and see Mister Z, who has a very cool side-cut and very un-teacher-like knee-high studded boots.

Dak looks down at Max. “Who’s teaching you about respect? Because it’s definitely not me.”

“You’re respectful,” Max protests. “And Mister Z talks a lot about respect, so it’s important!”

“But he takes it more seriously than most of the kids,” Mister Z says dryly, and offers his hand. “Hey, I’m Mister Z. I teach your kid how to read and stuff.”

Dak takes it and shakes it, with the best and firmest Dak Rambo handshake that he can manage. “I’m his Uncle Dak.”

“Yeah, he talks about you a lot. You drive trucks?”

“Only when there’s someone to watch him.” Which there normally is, because Pox is great like that. Dak doesn’t know what she does when she’s not babysitting, but she always seems to be around when he needs her. “And you teach a whole bunch of seven-year-olds. How’s that going for you?”

For just a second, Mister Z’s face drops out of professional-cool-teacher mode to a very human, super relatable wince. “I love them, and I love what I do,” he says sincerely, “but, you know.”

Dak does know. “I do know,” he says. “Well, Max thinks you’re great, he only says good things about you, although apparently he reads science books under his desk during class.”

“Dak,” Max whines, looking mortified.

Dak ruffles Max’s hair cheerfully. “Sorry, kiddo, but you gotta pay attention in school! Otherwise you end up like your uncle Dak, driving trucks on the open road, forgetting how to add three plus two.”

“You know what three plus two is!”

“I know it’s different than two plus two.”

“Between you and me-” Mister Z glances conspicuously at Max before leaning in and lowering his voice. “I know he reads the books, but your kid is way fucking smarter than the rest of the class. As long as he keeps turning stuff in on time, I don’t care what he does in class.”

Dak opens his mouth to say that Max isn’t exactly his kid, but before he can ask, Max tugs on his sleeve. “Are you telling secrets about me?” he asks, looking genuinely worried.

“No secrets, buddy, just Mister Z giving me the grown-up 411.” Dak grins and claps Mister Z on the shoulder. He twitches a little bit, but doesn’t shrug Dak off, which is a good sign. Maybe. “I’m glad you’re Max’s teacher, Z, you seem like a cool dude. Can you give us directions to the library? I wanna meet this Mister The Tech Wizard and thank him for giving Max the hook-up.”

“I know where the library is,” Max says indignantly. “And I gotta finish showing you around, and you didn’t really talk to Mister Z.”

“I don’t have a lot to say,” Mister Z admits. “I’ve got a sheet of paper with a little bit about my teaching philosophy, which the district made me write up, but mostly this is for you to show Dak around, Max. Can you do that?”

Max nods determinedly and tugs at his little elastic-neck bowtie. Mister Z looks down, sees the bowtie, and grins. “Hey, nice bowtie.”

“Thank you,” Max says, very politely, and then beams. Dak has to hand it to the kid: he doesn’t even start blushing until Mister Z has moved on to talking to the next parent.

Dak bumps his hand against Max’s shoulder. “You need a minute, or are you ready for the grand tour?”

“I don’t need a minute,” Max says, even though his cheeks are bright, bright pink. It is the cutest fucking thing Dak has ever seen. “I gotta show you all my friends’ desks, and the fishtank.”

“But I can already see the fishtank from here.”

“Daaaaaaaaaaak,” Max says exaggeratedly, so drawn out that Dak is completely sure that Max thinks it’s funny.

“Just a little bit of uncle humor for you,” he says cheerfully. “Come on, show me around the classroom.”

#

The library ends up being their last stop, not for lack of trying, but because every single teacher they see seems to know and love Max. They find his first grade teacher, who never liked Dak but who is still nice to Max, so she’s on thin fucking ice. They find the teacher who does the computer class, and the art teacher, and Max’s gym teacher, who apparently didn’t expect Max’s guardian to be a tough guy. Unluckily for them, Dak is the toughest guy.

“This is the library,” Max announces loudly as he pushes the door open. “There’s computers in here, and a bunch of books.”

Dak whistles as he takes a look around. There are no other parents or kids in sight, only shelves and shelves of books. “Wow. You ever seen this many books in one place at once?”

“Bookstore,” Max points out, which is probably true, but it does kind of ruin Dak’s whole embarrassing uncle humor vibe. “They have the picture books for the littler kids, and the chapter books for the bigger kids, and-”

“And science books for the science kids,” a voice says warmly.

It takes Dak a second to find the source of the voice: behind the counter, off to the side. The man in question, who absolutely has to be Mister The Tech Wizard, is… well, honestly, he’s a little hot, in a very specific way. He’s chubby, a little bit scruffy, and he’s wearing an orange fanny pack and little earrings shaped like stars. And he’s smiling at Max, a nice non-condescending smile, which automatically puts him at the top of Dak’s list of favorite people.

“Hi Mister The Tech Wizard!” Max waves at him. “This is my Uncle Dak, he’s here for the open house and he said something about saying thank you for hooking up.”

“You said those words in the wrong order, bud,” Dak says cheerfully, as Tech Wizard blushes so hard he practically turns purple. “I said I wanted to say thank you for giving Max the hook-up with science books, and Max apparently remembered the two weirdest words out of that sentence.”

Max frowns. “What’s wrong with hooking up?”

“Nothing,” Dak says, “and anyone who ever tells you otherwise is wrong. But that’s one of those things where if you say it a certain way, it means something different to grown-ups.”

“Oh.” Max thinks about this for a few seconds. “Like that time the neighbor knocked over a bucket, and I said he kicked the bucket, but that means something else?”

“Exactly.”

Max nods and looks back at Tech Wizard. “What did I say by accident?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tech Wizard says, still looking a little mortified. His eyes flick up and down Dak’s body, which is… well, that’s what Dak calls a pleasant surprise. But then he clears his throat and seems to come back to himself, and he looks down at Max. “Okay, let’s try it one more time, what did you want to say?”

“Uncle Dak wanted to thank you for giving me science books.”

“Oh!” Tech Wizard turns back to Dak, any remaining embarrassment melting off of him. “Dude, your nephew is smart, did you know that?”

“Did I know that?” Dak scoffs loudly. “Of course I did! Except for the part where he reads about science.”

“I read all about the table of elements,” Max says proudly.

“He’s reading the kind of books that kids a couple years older than him are supposed to be reading, but blow off,” Tech Wizard explains. “And he understands it all pretty well. Zenith and I talk about it, and we’re pretty impressed.”

“You talk about me?” Max repeats, eyes round. “Really?”

“We talk about a lot of the kids.”

“And my sister’s kid is worth talking about,” Dak says proudly, wrapping a hand around Max’s shoulder and tugging him close. “I don’t have much to say, but I did want to stop by and say thank you for helping him out.”

“It’s my job,” Tech Wizard says, but he smiles, looking pleased. “And you’re welcome. You’ve got a great kid here, you know that? Or a great sister’s kid.”

“Oh, I know.” Dak squeezes Max’s shoulder and looks down. “Do you need any science books right now, do you wanna show me around?”

Max blinks a couple times and opens his mouth, with the face that means he’s embarrassed to say something.

Dak cottons on immediately. “Or do you wanna go to McDonald’s?”

“I wanna go to McDonald’s,” Max says, cheeks coloring ever so slightly, but he looks resolute.

“That’s what I thought.” Dak glances back at the counter. “Looks like we gotta blast, but it was nice meeting you, Mister The Tech Wizard.”

Mister The Tech Wizard waves him off, looking embarrassed. “Just Tech is fine.”

“Just Tech,” Dak repeats. “Got it. And I’m just Dak.”

“Not even I call him Uncle Dak,” Max adds. “Not always, anyways.”

Tech nods. “Dak,” he says, and for a single heart-crunching second Dak is certain that he never wants to hear anyone else say his name again. Not if they’re not gonna say it like that. “It was good to meet you too, Dak.”

“Yeah,” Dak says, and there are already a couple of really, really good excuses to come back and visit the library swirling around in the back of his head. For Max and science books, obviously. And for the way Tech is looking at him, the shy little smile on his face. “Seriously, thank you for keeping an eye out for him.”

“Of course,” Tech says, and waves at Max. “Have a good night.”

“Good night, Mister The Tech Wizard,” Max chirps, and starts dragging Dak towards the door. Dak barely has time to wave before Max is pretty much towing him back down the hall, chattering about books or some shit. And in a minute Dak will feel bad about not really listening, but right now he glances over his shoulder and sees Tech watching them walk away, with a tiny, pleased smile. And, well, he needs a minute to be excited about that.

[pavlovers]

tagged by my fave @britneyshakespeare, thank youuu

Rules: Pick ten artists you like before answering these questions & tag some people

1. fall out boy

2. blur

3. arctic monkeys

4. gorillaz

5. panic at the disco

6. paramore

7. radiohead

8. the 1975

9. the killers

10. the strokes

What was the first song you heard by six (paramore): 

gosh i dont remember,, i might have heard misery business/decode when i spent my 8 year old days watching random music videos on my dad’s old first gen ipod, but i dont have a clear cut memory of that per say so it could have also been aint it fun/still into you playing on the radio when i was 11. as for the first song that really got me into them, it was ignorance. 

What is your favorite song by eight (the 1975): 

that would be settle down, and it’s always been settle down, and i cant really explain why. it’s just a song that im never not in the mood for i guess, and it’s always stood out to me as just one of their grooviest songs. 

What kind of impact has one (fall out boy) left on you:

god... i cant say enough about what fob has done for me. this is all gonna sound terribly cheesy but if it wasn’t for fob being the first band i fell madly in love with, i wouldnt be the dumb nerd listening to all the varied stuff i listen to nowadays. throughout some of the darkest periods of my life, i poured my heart and soul into loving them, and man did that get me through a lot. and i cant help but think of that one textpost that said something along the lines of how much patrick’s voice feels like home, and god is that so true for me, to this day, no matter how many artists i discover and love, nothing’s ever gonna woo me harder than that man’s voice. seriously, initially it’s always a bit hard for me to outright dislike a fall out boy song, because no matter what weird/dumb/downright awful sounding sonic lane fob decides they want to fling themselves down, there’s always going to be patrick’s voice floating above it all. and i guess that’s just a testament to how much of a constant comfort they’ve been in my life for the past four to five years, and i cant really picture them going away anytime soon. 

What are your favorite lyrics by five (panic at the disco):

oh boyyyyy,, gosh im terribly lazy and dont have the energy to find em all right now so im just gonna nominate the entirety of build god, then we’ll talk because holy shit is that not a gorgeously written intriguing narrative or what. hats off to you mr ross seriously. 

 How many times have you seen four (gorillaz) live:

once, last july in boston and it was so so much fun, i’d die to relive it. 

Favorite song by seven (radiohead):

 fuck i gotta choose just one??? uhhhhhh i guess i’ll shout out subterranean homesick alien. ever since i first heard ok computer it’s always been a comfort song for me, i just love the spacey beautiful atmosphere it creates w jonny’s sweet sweet guitar

Are there any songs by three (arctic monkeys) that make you sad:

uh well despair in the departure lounge is pretty depressing, and ive cried to 505 before i guess if that counts, love is a laserquest is also pretty sad, and i guess you could argue do me a favour...uhh that’s it i think... i mean the monkeys can be slower and reflective at times but not a lot of their songs give off a particularly sad vibe y’know...maybe a bleak vibe, or maybe a frustrated vibe but not a sad one per say. 

What is your favorite song by nine (the killers)

mr brightside

uh no seriously i’d think it would have to come down to either all these things that i’ve done or believe me natalie. all of these things that i’ve done is such a timeless and beautifully crafted anthem, and believe me natalie has such a wondrous freeing sense about it, i’ve got such good road trip memories associated with it. 

How did you first get into two (blur):

well i was a pretty big fan of gorillaz first and im guessing you can put two and two together. honestly i was pretty hesitant of them for a while until i heard for tomorrow and somehow that changed my mind.

What’s your favorite album by ten (the strokes):

 hmm i think it’s a solid tie between their first two albums (is this it and room on fire) because they’re both flawless masterpieces, and while i enjoy pretty much all their albums, im such a sucker for their classic garage rock sound ughh

i’ll tag @achingroses @bonamorrissey @parkliferobyn @teara-cotta @rosecoloredvan and @soulmatescoexist if they want to do this