#interesting to try and decipher what he means amidst his rambling thoughts. he's not a good dad and this is an exception not the norm

[magnuficent76]

—Sometimes it's an every night thing.

Summary : Lucio does his usual patrol for the night, but gets interrupted as he's wrapping up the routine.

Author's note: Lucio can be a good dad when he wants. He just usually Does Not want to </3

Warnings: Lucio is here and that sucks, but nothing bad happens.

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Quiet nights in Pandora are rare, worrying things. If you can't hear at least some ruckus in the distance, then something must be dreadfully wrong. Lucio knows this better than anyone. As he paces back and forth from the porch of his house to the outskirts of the yard, he envisions the danger closing in on his little house at the very end of his crossing. Thankfully, the entrance is always in his sights. Nothing and no one could get through so long as he is there standing guard. All he has to do is listen.

In the distance, gunshots go off, followed by the sound of cars revving up and driving top speed, dangerously close to the soft bodies that dared taunt such machines. There is a pause, and then a repeat in noise. Screams are added, tires burn against the floor, and then pause again. It's like that almost every night. Loud enough to be heard from where he stands, but faint enough to allow his family to rest. That was enough. You have to take the small victories and accept that sometimes they'll be all you get.

Eventually, he tires himself out. Patrolling around the plot of his land and away, to the very edge of where his territory ends and then back to where it starts, the exhaustion finally catches up to him, and with a satisfied humph, he lets himself in through the door...

     But then.

Then he hears scurrying. Quiet little footsteps of a tiny creature, only barely heavy enough to cause the wood to creak. He doesn't let his shotgun down just yet, but he has a sneaking suspicion for what it is that's making noise. Lucio steps carefully around the house, the boots on his feet squeaking just slightly, surprisingly quiet for how unfathomably large the man wearing them is. His eyes are adjusted for the darkness, perfectly seeing into the hallway he was sure the little thing went into... but not the thing itself.

He stops to listen. There is still sound in the distance as expected, but nothing close by to indicate a presence. Until it comes from the kitchen, that is. A sniffle followed by water being dispensed from a mason filter, being poured into a glass cup while whoever holds it stays on his tippy toes to make sure it's not *too* loud out of courtesy.

Lucio relaxes, placing his gun back on the holster and double checking to make sure it's got its safety on, then stepping while going into the kitchen as quietly as he can. His presence goes unnoticed until the very moment it announces itself,

    "Boy." Lucio speaks after a whole night of quiet, his voice booming and breaking the silence again. It makes the little boy in front of him jump surprised, almost dropping the cup he was filling. He turns around fearfully, small, before his eyes finally adjust enough to see his father was the shadow all along. Then, he seems to relax.

    "Papa— 'm sorry," Archer scratches one of his eyes with a tiny closed fist, placing the cup on the edge of the balcony. He looks tired, still drowsy from the interrupted night of sleep. "M' eye was itchy, I don't feel good.. I wanted water," He looks down guiltily, as if having admitted to the most heinous crime of them all.

Lucio crouches down to his eye level, tilting his head back to face him with both his hands. He looks so small between his hands. So unbelievably small. A quick look around his face shows exactly what bothers him: One of his eyes is squinting and watering, little veins underneath it flared and red, matching red spots forming under the eye and on his cheek. Specifically the left one too— not good.

    "Probably allergies. We don't got any medicine for that I don't think." He speaks again after a quiet moment inspecting his face, then hums. "D'ya eat anything different today?"

    "Nnooooo," Archer places his little hands over his father's, somehow colder than them. He seems worried at the mention of not having medicine, features slightly squished from the small pressure being placed on the sides of his face. "Am I in troble?" He asks meekly, the word not quite coming out from his mouth right.

    "What? No." Lucio grunts indignantly, almost a little offended. He is a fair man trying to help him here, why would he even be in trouble? Bah. Dramatic. "You're fine. It was probably dust in your room makin' you all red. Come on.." He lets go of his face, messing with his hair slightly before getting up again. He walks to the other side of the kitchen and reaches into several cabinets looking for something, grumbling curses under his breath while searching for something specific. The boy watches his movements, holding his hands together while he waits to see what's exactly being sought.

    "Boy, turn the lights on for me. Now." He commands, and Archer complies with a little nod, reaching up to the light switch on his tippy toes and then sitting still again until something else is needed of him. Quiet takes over the kitchen again, aside from the buzzing of the yellow bulb above and the chaos outside as usual. It's interrupted by the occasional sneeze from Archer, who then wipes it off on the hem of his shirt without another way for him to clean himself. Finally, after minutes of searching and mumbling about where 'the damn thing' could be, there is an answer.

    "Aha. There we go. C'mere," Lucio motions with his hand, then crouches back down to meet him. He pops the lid off the little container, then takes a small amount of the substance inside to dab on the underside of his eye. Archer winces from the immediate stinging sensation of the artificial mint, having it immediately working its way both to his clogged nose and into his eye, which now felt a little easier to open for some reason. "This stuff always worked for me when I was a lad. Ain't exactly meant for curing allergies but hey. Don't try explaining miracles..." His thumb carefully presses down on that spot, caressing the cream into it, then dabs a little more just under his nose. "Feel a little better?"

    Archer sniffles, scratching his eye one more time and then blinking to make sure there was an effect. Sure enough, it feels easier to breathe and to blink. The itchiness doesn't bother as much anymore, even if there's still probably a bunch of mucus. "A lot! Thank you papa" He smiles, looking up to Lucio happily. "My nose feels way clearer now... how'd you know it would work?"

    Lucio chuckles softly, "'Cuz I made this nose, dingus. And I know everythin' that happens to it." He shakes him by the nose gently, and giggles spill out of him like he just did the funniest thing ever. "Now go to sleep you little ruffian. Yer gonna wake up grumpy later."

    "Heeheee, okay! I's cuz you're my papa, an' you know everythin'!" Archer parrots between little giggles, holding his nose. "And okayyy, I just wanna drink my water first, then I'll go bed. Promise."

    "'S alright Archie. Take your time." He ruffles his hair again, watching as he grabs the cup full of water and sips its contents away, certainly bouncier than before. It's nice. He's glad he was able to help.

Archer makes him so angry sometimes. Be it with the incessant questions, or with his kiddy mannerisms that get under his skin, or with how cowardly he can be most of the time, or how he stares so much constantly, but god damnit, he's a good kid when he wants to be. Mostly. It's not his fault he gets annoyed, is it?... his eye stays on his direction while water depletes from the very full cup he's holding, but his mind is elsewhere. There are noises outside of gunshots and tires screeching, people screaming for their lives while they run away from consuming metal, trying to live a little while longer to get one more shot in. Elsewhere, a child cries after they skin their knee on the sidewalk, having to be soothed down amidst their overreactive tantrum, their parent scolding them for not being careful. Is it ever their fault.

Before he can catch himself becoming too sentimental, Lucio has already swaddled the little guy in his arms. Maybe it's just because he's tired too and wouldn't sleep well knowing he's up, but he feels the need to go tuck him in. Archer is saying something, he can probably decipher it if he really tries, but instinct is just running its course now.

Lucio opens the door to his bedroom with one hand while holding the kid with the other. He doesn't even notice the cup of water still in Archer's hands, jostling around until some of it spilling on his shirt. It's cold. He takes it out of his hands and places it on the ledge of the window.

     "Keep the cup here. If you get thirsty again during the night you'll have somethin' to drink. Don't break that cup though, yer mama will be mad." He speaks more softly this time, laying his son down on his bed with his head on a deflated old pillow. Archer doesn't say anything in return, just staring at him with those big stupid eyes of his again. They're big and dark, just like his dad's. The right one is still a little red, and itll probably still be itchy during the night, but it'll go away by morning. He's not losing that. "Goodnight Boy." Lucio goes to leave, but a tiny hand grabs his own before he can, making him look back.

    "Pa?"

    "Yes Archie?"

    "I love you," The words lock Lucio in place for a solid second, the intonation for how they're said almost tense, as if testing what the reaction for them will be. He doesn't know how to respond to it. He looks so small, illuminated by moonlight coming through his window and barely covered with frumpy fuzzy blankets. What does he say?

    "...Yeah. I know. Go to sleep kid." He presses a kiss on his forehead, then leaves without another word. Archer is left in his room to think about what that meant until he lays his head back down in his pillow.

Lucio stands outside his door for a while longer, feeling rather restless again. There is screaming and gunshots and the sound of engines roaring. Unimaginable amounts of danger constantly. He has to be there to make sure it doesn't get close. He goes back outside, shotgun in hand, and stares at the road leading to his house, sitting on the porch. He'll go back inside eventually. For now, he has to make sure the next couple of hours are peaceful, if not all around the territory, then just here.

Just enough for one night of sleep.