Daddy Day - A Future!verse Father's Day
Title: Daddy Day
Rating: R-ish.
Characters/Pairing: Name of the community might be a bit helpful. Also, their adopted son Scott and Mitzi I-have-my-own-arc.
Notes: .. Yes, Louise, got around to making a post! We were feeling ~festive~ and willing to torture the boys (as always) and this happened as a result. I hope you guys all have a happy Father's Day!
Davey probably should have figured out something was up from the banging in the kitchen. Without him, there was never banging in the kitchen, unless Freddy had let Scott use the pots and pans as drums again ("encouraging musical talent", Freddy called it). At the very least, he thought, opening his eyes slowly and lifting himself out of bed, there was no burning smell.
The clanging had grown louder by time he made his way downstairs. It was not, thankfully, Freddy trying to cook, but rather Scott whacking everything he could reach (a surprising amount, given his tiny armspan) with his newest favorite toy, a wooden spoon.
"PAPA!!!!" Scott screamed when he saw him, barreling over and whacking enthusiastically and accidentally at Davey's shins. "BREKKIE FOR PAPAAAA!!"
"Morning, Scotty," Davey said, bending down to pick him up. It was so much easier to do when Scott was a newborn, before he had complete control over his limbs and Davey could just tuck him under his chin, smelling faintly of baby powder. But Scott was currently going through a phase where he couldn't be held without kicking or screaming unless he was very tired.
"PAPA LET ME GOOOOOOO!!!" Scott hollered at ear splitting volume, his little round face turning bright red. After the third rough jab to the stomach, Davey let him down.
"Is that you, Davey?" Freddy's head stuck briefly out of the kitchen. He had flour in his hair. "Look what I've got," he half-shouted, in a strained voice. "Father's day cocktails! Happy Father's Day!" Freddy handed Davey a flour covered glass and kissed him hello.
"It's only eight in the morning," Davey looked at his warily. "And this is just beer in a martini glass."
"It's the thought that counts. " Freddy's head disappeared. "I made... something. Could you watch Scott?"
"PAPA LOOK!" Scott suddenly yelled. He suddenly swung his spoon into the base of the floor plant in the living room. The pot teetered dangerously. "I'M CHOPPING TREES!"
"Scotty," Davey said evenly, "do you remember what I told you about chopping down trees?"
"NOZONE!" Scott bellowed happily.
"That's right," Davey took a fortifying gulp of beer and put it down where Scott couldn't reach it. "Want to go fix things in the kitchen with Daddy?"
"DADDY!!!!!" Scott yelled happily, waddling off on his fat baby legs. "I'M FIXIN' THINGS."
"Like your attempts at waffles," Davey said, eying what looked like yellowish concrete congealing the more Freddy attempted to stir it in the bowl.
"They're eggs," Freddy huffed, pouting as Scott "fixed" a cabinet.
"Eggs don't have flour," Davey poked the blob carefully, in case it poked back.
"I was just trying to make a nice breakfast," Freddy sighed. Davey kissed him on a floury patch of neck and wet a paper towel to gently clean Freddy's face. "It's Father's Day. I thought it'd be like when we... had time."
"I like granola," Davey said, tweaking Freddy's nose. "But the effort is both appreciated and adorable. I'll even clean up after it."
"I love you," Freddy sighed, threading his fingers through Davey's hair and pulling him in to a slightly sloppy, vaguely adolescent kiss that involved more tongue than was strictly kosher around a toddler.
"DADDY KISSING!!!!" Scott squealed, banging louder. "GERMY KISSING. GERMS."
"Mmmm," Davey agreed. "Bacteria."
"WANT GERMY KISSES." Scott declared, whacking on the floor. "GERMY KISSES FOR SCOTTY."
"Oh, I'll give you kisses," Freddy growled, running after a howling Scott while Davey laughed and reached for the extremely oft-used sponge.
- - -
It took an hour for Freddy to subdue Scott, transplant the poor plant to a new pot now that the old one had a crack in it, vacuum up the soil on the carpet, and stuff Scott's thick limbs into a white oxford and jeans that Regina had bought for him. By the time Freddy slid into his seat, after tucking Scott into his high chair, Davey had managed to turn Freddy's culinary explosion into a fairly amazing looking breakfast.
"I love you," Freddy said for the second time that morning, with real feeling. "What the hell did you do?"
"I just made some breakfast out of what we had lying around," Davey said modestly, serving Scott some fruit salad onto his bright orange plastic plate. "You bought a lot of stuff."
"STRAWBERRIES," Scott lisped excitedly, grabbing a whole handful from the dish before Davey could finish, smearing it all over his white collar.
"That was my fault," Freddy said, staring at him with dismay. "I shouldn't have dressed him before breakfast. I forgot."
"I don't even know why we buy white clothes for him anymore," Davey said, as Scott happily smooshed the blueberries in between his fingers, watching them explode in torrents of dark juice.
"I don't get why we buy him clothes anymore, period." Freddy poured himself orange juice from the jug on the table, and then filled Davey's glass. "Our kid is .. expanding."
"Huh," Davey agreed. "How long has he been up?"
"Actually," Freddy paused. "I was thinking he might be ready for a nap soon." Davey snorted. "No, really. We got up at six, and he wanted to run around a bit. So we took the dog for a walk. I let him... play in the backyard for a while and then I gave him the spoon."
Davey looked up hopefully. "Think he'll be out for a while?"
"I'm thinking a couple of hours of alone time," Freddy covered Davey's hand smoothly with his own. "At least."
"BERRIES BERRIES BERRIES!!!" Scott chimed in, happily.
"I dunno," Davey said doubtfully. "D'you want him to get more stained?
"Ahah!" Freddy exclaimed. "Watch this." Deftly, he pulled Scott out of his shirt where he was wearing an old, stained onesie, and then held it over a glass and poured the pitcher of ice water over it, where most of the stain washed away. "And then," he said with the air of a magician revealing his greatest trick. "You put it in the sunlight. Regina taught me."
"Genius," Davey said, giving Scott a heaping helping of chopped strawberries, which he promptly started mashing with his trusty spoon and screaming happily.
"Admit it," Freddy whispered, leaning over and grazing his lips along Davey's ear so he shivered rather delightfully. "You're pretty turned on by my hardcore Daddy skills."
"They're very sexy," Davey agreed in a low voice, smiling under hooded eyes. "Vacuuming has never, ever been so appealing."
"Mhm," Freddy hummed, shifting in his seat to make room for the rather uncomfortable situation developing in his pants. Since he never was particularly good at making sensible decisions, he reached for a whole strawberry and held it out for Davey to eat. Davey was just leaning in, a smirk on his face, when a red glob smacked both of them in the face and Scott started screaming.
"MO' BERRIES!" He wailed, his chin bunching. "MO' BERRIES!!!"
"No," Davey said firmly, flipping immediately into hs no-nonsense mode while he dabbed the mush off of his face, which made Freddy even more ridiculously turned-on. "You know no throwing food."
"MO' BERRIES! WANT MO' BERRIES!!"
"And here's the mid-morning meltdown, right on cue," Davey sighed, picking up a screaming Scott who was starting to hiccup unhappily.
"Berries," Scott sniffed pathetically while Davey carried him out. "Berries."
- - -
As soon as Freddy started in on the dishes, the phone started ringing. Freddy scrambled for it. "Hello?"
"Freddy, liebling!" A thick German accent cried joyously from the other end. "I wanted to wish you and Davey a happy Father's day. Did you get my gift?"
"The beer?" Freddy reached above the counter, swiftly finishing Davey's abandoned Father's day cocktail. "It was very.. well received. Thanks, Franz."
Somewhere in the back room, Scott put up a horrible wail. Freddy flinched.
"Your boy sounds like a large animal - he has strong lungs" Franz said with an air of approval. "See you soon?"
"Definitely," Freddy said, placing the phone in the holder and heading back into the kitchen to wipe dishes. Fat chance of that happening - it was hard enough finding a sitter that wasn't a bored, pimply teenager. His plans for a romantic Father's day dinner, once it was found that Regina and Alex were unavailable for terror-sitting, had quickly disintegrated into a hectic breakfast.
"Done," Davey suddenly reappeared triumphantly, wrapping an arm around Freddy's waist and pushing him against the fridge in one smooth motion. His shoulders landed with a whoomph that might have been a little painful had he not been distracted with an armful of Davey.
"You got him in bed?" Freddy said happily into Davey's mouth, slamming the dishwasher shut with his foot. "It's only been a half hour. That's the best time you've made yet."
"Who's your daddy?" Davey asked lowly, grinnig wickedly as he pushed their hips together. "What, ready already?"
"It's been a long time," Freddy said defensively. "We never do it in daylight anymore. I was thinking about it."
"Mmm," Davey agreed, pulling Freddy upstairs. "I never get to really take my time with you either, anymore."
"We could take time," Freddy agreed, slowly slipping off Davey's undershirt. He was as lanky as ever, though his angles were softened, sleek and refined instead of brand new. Sometimes Freddy would miss the coltish, innocent beauty of Davey when they were first dating, but the thought of giving up this man he'd become was unacceptable - reading glasses, crow's feet, and occasional indigestion included. Davey was examining him equally as closely, pushing his shirt of gently and caressing the plane of his stomach that wasn't as taut as it used to be, the sprinkling of chest hair that was growing a little more hairy.
"Gorgeous," Davey finally concluded, tugging Freddy on their bed which had unfortunately seen far more sleeping than sex going on on it lately. And Freddy was going to change that, as soon as he finished kissing Davey, who tasted of breakfast and a little beer.
"You did have some of Franz's cocktail!" He said proudly.
"Franz sent that beer?" Davey asked, looking a little sex-stupid.
"That's how he deals with the idea of paternity," Freddy explained. "Inebriation."
"That's strangely sensible," Davey said after a little thought.
"I know, right? Except maybe he should never be a father."
"Agreed," Davey nodded, pushing Freddy's sweatpants off. "Now, about that Father's Day sex..."
"God, I love you," Freddy said, pushing Davey's pants down too. Normally what they'd do is just jerk each other off, swallowing back their moans so Scott wouldn't wake up. But maybe they could actually have sex. God, Freddy hadn't fucked Davey in months, and it was even longer since Davey'd returned the favor. And Davey's ass felt nice in his hands. It was still small, but less than it used to be, now that Davey seemed to have passed the point of puberty where retaining body fat was a physical impossibility. And Davey was really getting into this, making tin noises under him, his legs coming up to wrap around Freddy's waist, panting and grasping and oh, maybe they'd just take the edge off like this, just like they were sixteen again, he was so close - and then he heard it, a howl. Not the arousing sort of "oh, I am about to jizz my brains out thanks to your sexy maneuvers" howl from Davey, but a "I have wet my diaper and am very displeased about it" howl from an entirely different quarter.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Freddy groaned, untangling himself and glaring at his hard-on. It was all his erection's fault. It needed wooing now. If he was in college all he'd need was for Davey to do that weird twisty hand motion and he'd be coming his brain out. If he was twenty, they would so not be having this problem.
"I've got it," Davey said, taking a few deep breaths and making that squinty face that told Freddy he was picturing something wholy unappetizing to kill his erection, which was pretty damn effective, sort of like watching a balloon lose air rapidly. Unfortunately, watching Davey's penis wasn't exactly helping to tame his own. Involuntarily, he whimpered.
"Take a shower," Davey said softly, leaning over and giving Freddy a slow kiss around his bellybutton, which made Freddy groan louder. If Davey would just move a little lower, it wouldn't take too long...
Scott wailed more insistently.
"Fine," Freddy grumbled, grabbing his towel and stomping to their master bathroom while Davey went to soothe their son.
It was a really good thing toddlers were so fucking cute.
- - -
Scott had been grumbly after his diaper change, but when Davey had offered a ream and suggested he draw a Daddy's Day present, he had happily flung himself on the living room floor and began scribbling furiously, which meant Davey could call Joey and his mother in relative peace. His mother made the normal grandmotherly inquiries before leaving to tend to the Sunday crowds (she was going to be in that bakery until she died, Davey was sure) and then listened enviously while Joey described his nice, peaceful Father's Day with presents. And no screaming. (Well, Susie did shriek when she laughed, but that was the good kind of screaming.) He got lots of polite, adorable wishes from his nieces (Helen rhapsodizing about the book he got her, Lucy kissing the phone, Susie giggling) and was halfway through an enjoyable discussion on nothing with Betsy when Freddy stomped unhappily into the room, even his curls looking grumpy and wilted.
"The mister's back and grumpy," Davey said to Betsy, interrupting a story about taking pictures at the wedding from hell. "He's not having a good day today."
"Poor guy," Betsy laughed sympathetically. "He called trying to get us to take Scott, he really wanted to romance you today. It was so pathetic I actually considered it, but Joey's been real down about that case at work, so..."
"You're a saint for even considering it," Davey assured her when Freddy slumped down next to him on the couch and rested his head Davey's shoulder sadly. Davey started carding through Freddy's hair, attempting to untangle it. Freddy tended not to bother with combs.
"You'll miss this one day, you know," Betsy said. "Believe me, Joey whisked me off my first Mother's Day and it didn't feel right at all."
"Yeah, I remember," Davey said. "And my boys tried to make me breakfast, which was cute."
"Well, go work on making your man happy," Betsy said. "Give everyone a kiss for me."
"Love you," Davey said, hanging up.
"Betsy?" Freddy asked, watching Scott color with a marker in each hand.
"Yup," Davey said. "How was your shower?"
"Awful," Freddy grumbled. "You know what I found in the drain? A gray hair.. My first gray hair."
"So?"
"So?!" Freddy leaned heavily on Davey. "I'm getting old. Pops is supposed to be the one with gray hair, Davey."
"I hope you don't think that," Davey rolled his eyes. "I've got tons of gray hairs, look." He pointed at a temple.
"That isn't gray, that's blond," Freddy said stubbornly, examining it.
"You don't see what I shave, it's turning really gray," Davey replied.
"Scott is making us old," Freddy said sadly. "Now he's giving me them too."
"He wasn't the only one who put them there," Davey affectionately squeezed Freddy's shoulder.
"It's different with you," Freddy said. "You're going to look sexy with gray hair. I'm probably going to end up being the bald one."
"BALD DADDY!" Scott agreed joyously, deciding now was the time to play with Freddy's foot. Freddy played along, making growling noises and tickling his belly. Scott wriggled in excitement and grabbed at Freddy's toes, shrieking when Freddy reached down and tugged at his ridiculously angelic curly blond hair.
"I thought we were going to make it," He said under his breath to Davey. "We came so close."
"Maybe we won't be so tired tonight," Davey said, already fighting his way around a yawn. Freddy groaned.
"You're a real uncool guy sometimes, Scott Alexander Kennedy," Freddy said half-seriously.
"STORY TIME!" Scott declared as a response, sitting down heavily on his round hindquarters. He tugged at Freddy's pants. "READ ME A STORY DADDY!"
Freddy made a strangled noise. "Maybe later, kiddo, Daddy's feeling a little -"
"STORY TIME!" Scott demanded. He gave Freddy's pants another rough yank. "STORY TIME!" His cheeks were already starting to darken, his mouth was widening, and his chin was beginning to crumple in the makings of a tantrum.
"Story time it is," Freddy agreed quickly. Scott cheered and tugged at Freddy's foot. His face began to return to it's normal color, like a receding storm. "What's he into now?" Freddy asked, sliding off of the couch and stretching. "I tried to crack open The Very Hungry Caterpillar yesterday and he almost had a seizure. He doesn't like that book any more."
"Hop on Pop," Davey said wearily. "It's kind of appropriate, actually. But he gets into it."
"I really hate Dr. Seuss," Freddy said passionately. "I really, really, really hate Dr. Seuss. Can't we go back to Henry and Mudge? Those books were shorter. And better."
"He just likes the rhyming parts," Davey replied. "And the voices. He likes it when you do the Fat Albert voice for Pop. "Who knows? He might get tired after you read," Davey offered half heartedly.
Freddy brightened a little. "STORY TIME STORY TIME STORY TIME!" Scott hollered from the floor impatiently, throwing a marker at Freddy's knee.
"Stop it," Freddy chided, pushing the markers away from Scott and heading towards his room. "Maybe he'll only make me read it once," he hissed to Davey on his way out.
"Yeah," Davey said, opening the newspaper. "Good luck with that."
But if anything, the book energized Scott, and since Mitzi was starting to get antsy too, Freddy decided the best policy was to let them run in the yard and tire each other out while he got to work on his favorite project that had nothing to do with Davey naked - the kickass tree house he was building for Scott (and maybe he thought, another kid. He wanted one, a little bit). The frame was up but it looked just like an enlarged birdhouse, like every other tree house. No, Scott was the great-grandson of a carpenter and Freddy's son. He was a Kennedy. If there was something that could be built with wood, a Kennedy would have the best, most amazing one to be had. It was the way things worked. Currently, Freddy was fitting in the windows with molding. It had the advantage of leaving him able to watch Scott and Mitzi run around in circles. Mitzi loved Freddy and Davey, but there was no doubt that she was Scott's dog through and through.
Also, if he was honest, it was a lot a present for Davey, because it seemed to make him happy to watch Freddy build this, and Davey looked like he needed a smile. Currently, he was pacing on the porch, trying to talk his management out of a tour to promote his new album of compositions.
"No, I know that it sells better when they can hear it live," Davey was saying, pinching his nose. "Yeah, I know it's better when they see me, because I'm young. No, but you know I've got a son, Mike. I'm not leaving him for six months. Yeah, no, I'm not leaving my husband that long either." Pause. "You know what Mike? It's Sunday and it's Father's Day. Yeah, really. Can I have a day off? I'll have a new way of saying no tomorrow, I promise." A pause. "Goodbye, Mike, don't call me back or I won't go on tour at all. Yeah, I'm serious. Bye." Freddy was starting to go down to comfort Davey, but he'd stomped back in the house and a few minutes later the sound of angry piano came from the music room.
"Daddy," Scott's voice piped up from under the tree house. "DADDY."
"Hey buddy," Freddy climbed down and scooped Scott into his arms. "What's up?"
"Puppy going pee pee," Scott said, pointing at Mitzi, who was indeed emptying her bladder.
"She's doing a good job," Freddy said, smoothing down Scott's curls.
"Papa sad," Scott said, touching Freddy's face with a grubby hand. "Why?"
"Papa doesn't want to have to go on a long trip for work," Freddy explained. "Leaving you makes Papa sad."
"Papa don't go!" Scott cried vehemently, pounding Freddy's shoulder.
"Papa's not going anywhere right now," Freddy assured him. "Neither is Daddy."
"HOORAY!" Scott screamed.
"You know what would make Papa happy?" Freddy said, putting Scott down. "Why don't you pick some flowers with Mitzi and go tell Papa what you told me?"
"KAY!!!" Scott yelled, scampering off to the patch of dandelions while Freddy patted himself on the back. He was clearly the best husband ever.
- - -
"Papa," A hushed voice called from the corner of the room.
Davey looked up from where he had been playing. Scott was standing in the doorway, as quiet as Davey had seen him all day. He waddled on over to the piano bench, leaving little half circles of mud where he walked. Davey thanked his stars briefly that they'd gotten hardwood floors instead of carpeting. When Scott got to the bench, he held out a various assortment of plants - long strands of grass, a few strangled dandelions, the heads of a few purple tulips and what looked like the entirety of Davey's tomato plants. Mentally, Davey bid farewell to his garden for another year. The blossoms were all bundled together in one small muddy fist, that Scott solemnly held out to Davey. "Flowers," he said simply
"Thank you," Davey said, taking the wet, bedraggled bundle out of Scott's hand, heart swelling. He picked up his son up and held him in his lap. Scott, thankfully, didn't squirm or kick this time, but sat still and wrapped his muddy arms around Davey's neck.
"Papa not going anywhere." Scott said, oddly firmly.
"No," Davey agreed, squeezing Scott tightly. "I'm not."
"Papa stay here?"
"Uh-huh," Davey buried his head in Scott's soft curls. He needed a bath. "I'm not leaving you guys. I'm going to stay right here where I belong, with you and Mitzi and Daddy. I love you."
"Glad to hear that," Freddy admitted, leaning in the doorway. His forehead had a thin sheen of sweat on it and he was still wearing his thick woodworking gloves. Davey's breath caught, and Freddy smirked slowly in response.
"I play in treehouse now?" Scott perked up.
"Not yet," Freddy peeled off his gloves. "It's going to take some time, kiddo. You'll have the best treehouse ever when I'm done."
"When play in treehouse?" Scott frowned.
"Not for a long time." Freddy wiped his hands, looking up at Davey. "I made progress today, though. I think I know what I'm going to do for the walls."
"Long time?" Scott interrupted, his face turning red. "Not play for long time?"
"Give me a break," Freddy said, a little exhausted. "It's got platform framing and everything. Daddy's only one person. Grandpops is getting too old to climb up into trees with Daddy ---"
Davey shushed Freddy as Scott started to sob uncontrollably. He jiggled his knee comfortingly, rubbing Scott's heaving back. "It'll be fine, honey. Daddy'll finish someday, promise."
But Scott had already hushed his tears, and was looking excitedly at the array of black and white keys spread out before him. "Play piano now?"
"You take bath now," Davey corrected. "Bath time after playtime, remember?"
Scott ignored him, bringing his fists down on the keys, which loudly sounded discordant notes. Davey flinched. Scott, amused, kept at it. "BANG BANG" Scott yelled joyfully. "BANG BANG BANG BANG."
"At least our kid is musical," Freddy grinned, hands over his ears.
- - -
Freddy and Davey had already decided to grill for Father's Day as a compromise - something Davey could prepare and Freddy could do without blowing up the house. Davey had already set everything to marinade and made veggie kabobs waiting for Freddy in the fridgeso he could grill while he bathed Scott, who was singing "Rubber Duckie" in a strangely subdued voice - by which Freddy meant he couldn't hear him outside, only from downstairs.
Freddy was humming "Rubber Duckie" to himself (that song never got out of your head), flipping Scott's hot dogs to the uncooked side when Davey came out and kissed the back of his neck, wrapping his arms around Freddy's middle.
"Hey baby," Freddy twisted around and giving Davey a quick kiss on the lips. "What'd you do wth the monster?"
"He told me he wanted to do art and it was a surprise, so I've been evicted."
"That sounds like a bad idea waiting to happen," Freddy said, raising an eyebrow.
"Look, I can see him from here," Davey said, nodding through the sliding door to where Scott was working through a pile of paper, scribbling furiously while Mitzi lay next to him, her head pillowed on his feet.
"It's been a good day," Freddy said after a few minutes, watching Scott and Mitzi curl up like a Hallmark card called "Happiness is a Warm Puppy" or something.
"Scott was strangely well behaved," Davey agreed.
"I like that kid," Freddy decided, the meat off the grill. "Wanna keep him?" Davey opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment Scott decided he was done.
"DADDIES!" He called from the other side of the screen. "HUNGY."
"Dinner's ready, bucko," Davey said, untangling himself from Freddy and bringing Scott to the table. "You want hotdogs?"
"PRESENTS." Scott said, wriggling to get down.
"We don't have any presents for you," Davey explained. "It's not Christmas or your birthday, Scotty."
"Nooooo," Scott said, rolling his eyes as if Davey had said something extremely stupid. "Presents for Daddies."
"I see," Davey nodded. "You want to give them before dinner?"
"PRESENTS!" Scott shouted running inside to where he'd been drawing and looking through some paper with the air of great concentration while Davey brought out plates and silverware. "KAY," Scott said finally after Freddy had already served both his and Davey's meat and cut Scott's hotdogs and veggies. "PRESENT FOR DADDIES." Proudly, he waddled outside and shoved a slightly crumpled picture onto Davey's lap before clambering onto Freddy's, unmindful as always of Freddy's more sensitive areas. "IT'S ART" he explained, as if it was unclear.
"It's beautiful," Davey said, wiping his hands on a napkin and picking it up, running his fingers down the four blobs of color.
"IS A FAMILY," Scott explained jubilantly. "DADDY AND PAPA," he pointed to the two biggest green and blue blobs, "PUPPY," he pointed to the brown blob, "SCOTTY," he pointed to the bright red blob.
"I love it," Freddy said, kissing Scott's head. "It's the most beautiful thing you've ever drawn."
"FRAME!" Scott shouted happily, watching an clapping as Davey went inside and slipped the paper into the frame they'd bought for Scott's artwork, taking out the page of the coloring book he'd scribbled on earlier that week.
"Thank you, sweetheart," Davey said softly when he came back out, picking up Scott and kissing his face all over until he squealed. "You're the best baby in the whole world."
"OKAY." Scott said happily, clapping. "I AM."
- - -
"I play in the yard tomorrow?" Scott looked up hopefully at Davey and Freddy. He was wearing a fire engine red onesie with footies and yawning. It was hard to remember that he had, on more than one occasion, reduced either Davey and Freddy to near nervous breakdowns. His eyes were round and blue and completely devoid angry tears or anything else except for hopeful pleading.
"Sure thing, kiddo." Freddy said, smoothing a hand over his hair as he lowered Scott into his crib. Davey pulled up his blankie and tucked it around him warmly.
"I play in the garden," Scott said decisively. "With Papa and Daddy... and Puppy." He yawned again, long eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks, limbs spread out akimbo.
"G'night Papa," Scott said in his crib. Davey leaned in and kissed Scott.
"Good night, Scott." he said softly.
"G'night Daddy."
Freddy leaned in and kissed him on his smooth pink cheek. "Good night, Scotty."
The only response that came was Scott's quiet, deep snoring. Davey raised a finger to his lips, carefully pushing the mobile of rockets and airplanes into motion, while Freddy switched on the night light while Davey bent over and pet Mitzi, who had laid down on her doggy bed. They had moved her to sleep in Scott's room, or she'd whine until she could stand watch over her particular favorite.
"Good girl," Davey said. Her tail thumped up and down.
"He snores just like you," Freddy said, amused, quietly shutting the door.
---
"Fatherhood," Freddy exhaled, falling forwards on their bed. "Nothing like it, huh?" He looked at the dresser drawer and debated relative merits of sleeping in pajamas over jeans versus the astronomical effort required to get up and change, and instead just kicked off his jeans.
"Nope," Davey sighed into the pillow beside him, already undressed and under the covers. "Our kid is a terror."
"Yeah," Freddy said happily. "Yeah, he is."
"Think I might want another, sometime," Davey whispered, as if confessing a great secret.
"Yeah," Freddy nodded. "Once Scott grows up a little I do too."
"A lttle girl, maybe," Davey sighed.
"Christ, what would we do with a girl?" Freddy laughed. "I don't know jack shit about girls."
"We didn't used to know anything about babies, either," Davey pointed out.
"We're pretty good," Freddy agreed.
Davey's cool hand slipped into his and squeezed. He slid into Freddy's side of the bed, settling his head on Freddy's chest. "Happy Father's Day, Freddy."
"Happy Father's Day, Davey." Davey's toes curled happily against him.
"You know, we could probably have sex now," Freddy said in a low voice against Davey's ear, half-heartedly. Davey stirred in response. "Davey?"
"Sorry, what?" He mumbled. "I dozed off, there."
"Nothing," Freddy murmured in response. "I love you, Davey."
Davey leaned in and kissed him slowly. "I love you too."
Rating: R-ish.
Characters/Pairing: Name of the community might be a bit helpful. Also, their adopted son Scott and Mitzi I-have-my-own-arc.
Notes: .. Yes, Louise, got around to making a post! We were feeling ~festive~ and willing to torture the boys (as always) and this happened as a result. I hope you guys all have a happy Father's Day!
Davey probably should have figured out something was up from the banging in the kitchen. Without him, there was never banging in the kitchen, unless Freddy had let Scott use the pots and pans as drums again ("encouraging musical talent", Freddy called it). At the very least, he thought, opening his eyes slowly and lifting himself out of bed, there was no burning smell.
The clanging had grown louder by time he made his way downstairs. It was not, thankfully, Freddy trying to cook, but rather Scott whacking everything he could reach (a surprising amount, given his tiny armspan) with his newest favorite toy, a wooden spoon.
"PAPA!!!!" Scott screamed when he saw him, barreling over and whacking enthusiastically and accidentally at Davey's shins. "BREKKIE FOR PAPAAAA!!"
"Morning, Scotty," Davey said, bending down to pick him up. It was so much easier to do when Scott was a newborn, before he had complete control over his limbs and Davey could just tuck him under his chin, smelling faintly of baby powder. But Scott was currently going through a phase where he couldn't be held without kicking or screaming unless he was very tired.
"PAPA LET ME GOOOOOOO!!!" Scott hollered at ear splitting volume, his little round face turning bright red. After the third rough jab to the stomach, Davey let him down.
"Is that you, Davey?" Freddy's head stuck briefly out of the kitchen. He had flour in his hair. "Look what I've got," he half-shouted, in a strained voice. "Father's day cocktails! Happy Father's Day!" Freddy handed Davey a flour covered glass and kissed him hello.
"It's only eight in the morning," Davey looked at his warily. "And this is just beer in a martini glass."
"It's the thought that counts. " Freddy's head disappeared. "I made... something. Could you watch Scott?"
"PAPA LOOK!" Scott suddenly yelled. He suddenly swung his spoon into the base of the floor plant in the living room. The pot teetered dangerously. "I'M CHOPPING TREES!"
"Scotty," Davey said evenly, "do you remember what I told you about chopping down trees?"
"NOZONE!" Scott bellowed happily.
"That's right," Davey took a fortifying gulp of beer and put it down where Scott couldn't reach it. "Want to go fix things in the kitchen with Daddy?"
"DADDY!!!!!" Scott yelled happily, waddling off on his fat baby legs. "I'M FIXIN' THINGS."
"Like your attempts at waffles," Davey said, eying what looked like yellowish concrete congealing the more Freddy attempted to stir it in the bowl.
"They're eggs," Freddy huffed, pouting as Scott "fixed" a cabinet.
"Eggs don't have flour," Davey poked the blob carefully, in case it poked back.
"I was just trying to make a nice breakfast," Freddy sighed. Davey kissed him on a floury patch of neck and wet a paper towel to gently clean Freddy's face. "It's Father's Day. I thought it'd be like when we... had time."
"I like granola," Davey said, tweaking Freddy's nose. "But the effort is both appreciated and adorable. I'll even clean up after it."
"I love you," Freddy sighed, threading his fingers through Davey's hair and pulling him in to a slightly sloppy, vaguely adolescent kiss that involved more tongue than was strictly kosher around a toddler.
"DADDY KISSING!!!!" Scott squealed, banging louder. "GERMY KISSING. GERMS."
"Mmmm," Davey agreed. "Bacteria."
"WANT GERMY KISSES." Scott declared, whacking on the floor. "GERMY KISSES FOR SCOTTY."
"Oh, I'll give you kisses," Freddy growled, running after a howling Scott while Davey laughed and reached for the extremely oft-used sponge.
- - -
It took an hour for Freddy to subdue Scott, transplant the poor plant to a new pot now that the old one had a crack in it, vacuum up the soil on the carpet, and stuff Scott's thick limbs into a white oxford and jeans that Regina had bought for him. By the time Freddy slid into his seat, after tucking Scott into his high chair, Davey had managed to turn Freddy's culinary explosion into a fairly amazing looking breakfast.
"I love you," Freddy said for the second time that morning, with real feeling. "What the hell did you do?"
"I just made some breakfast out of what we had lying around," Davey said modestly, serving Scott some fruit salad onto his bright orange plastic plate. "You bought a lot of stuff."
"STRAWBERRIES," Scott lisped excitedly, grabbing a whole handful from the dish before Davey could finish, smearing it all over his white collar.
"That was my fault," Freddy said, staring at him with dismay. "I shouldn't have dressed him before breakfast. I forgot."
"I don't even know why we buy white clothes for him anymore," Davey said, as Scott happily smooshed the blueberries in between his fingers, watching them explode in torrents of dark juice.
"I don't get why we buy him clothes anymore, period." Freddy poured himself orange juice from the jug on the table, and then filled Davey's glass. "Our kid is .. expanding."
"Huh," Davey agreed. "How long has he been up?"
"Actually," Freddy paused. "I was thinking he might be ready for a nap soon." Davey snorted. "No, really. We got up at six, and he wanted to run around a bit. So we took the dog for a walk. I let him... play in the backyard for a while and then I gave him the spoon."
Davey looked up hopefully. "Think he'll be out for a while?"
"I'm thinking a couple of hours of alone time," Freddy covered Davey's hand smoothly with his own. "At least."
"BERRIES BERRIES BERRIES!!!" Scott chimed in, happily.
"I dunno," Davey said doubtfully. "D'you want him to get more stained?
"Ahah!" Freddy exclaimed. "Watch this." Deftly, he pulled Scott out of his shirt where he was wearing an old, stained onesie, and then held it over a glass and poured the pitcher of ice water over it, where most of the stain washed away. "And then," he said with the air of a magician revealing his greatest trick. "You put it in the sunlight. Regina taught me."
"Genius," Davey said, giving Scott a heaping helping of chopped strawberries, which he promptly started mashing with his trusty spoon and screaming happily.
"Admit it," Freddy whispered, leaning over and grazing his lips along Davey's ear so he shivered rather delightfully. "You're pretty turned on by my hardcore Daddy skills."
"They're very sexy," Davey agreed in a low voice, smiling under hooded eyes. "Vacuuming has never, ever been so appealing."
"Mhm," Freddy hummed, shifting in his seat to make room for the rather uncomfortable situation developing in his pants. Since he never was particularly good at making sensible decisions, he reached for a whole strawberry and held it out for Davey to eat. Davey was just leaning in, a smirk on his face, when a red glob smacked both of them in the face and Scott started screaming.
"MO' BERRIES!" He wailed, his chin bunching. "MO' BERRIES!!!"
"No," Davey said firmly, flipping immediately into hs no-nonsense mode while he dabbed the mush off of his face, which made Freddy even more ridiculously turned-on. "You know no throwing food."
"MO' BERRIES! WANT MO' BERRIES!!"
"And here's the mid-morning meltdown, right on cue," Davey sighed, picking up a screaming Scott who was starting to hiccup unhappily.
"Berries," Scott sniffed pathetically while Davey carried him out. "Berries."
- - -
As soon as Freddy started in on the dishes, the phone started ringing. Freddy scrambled for it. "Hello?"
"Freddy, liebling!" A thick German accent cried joyously from the other end. "I wanted to wish you and Davey a happy Father's day. Did you get my gift?"
"The beer?" Freddy reached above the counter, swiftly finishing Davey's abandoned Father's day cocktail. "It was very.. well received. Thanks, Franz."
Somewhere in the back room, Scott put up a horrible wail. Freddy flinched.
"Your boy sounds like a large animal - he has strong lungs" Franz said with an air of approval. "See you soon?"
"Definitely," Freddy said, placing the phone in the holder and heading back into the kitchen to wipe dishes. Fat chance of that happening - it was hard enough finding a sitter that wasn't a bored, pimply teenager. His plans for a romantic Father's day dinner, once it was found that Regina and Alex were unavailable for terror-sitting, had quickly disintegrated into a hectic breakfast.
"Done," Davey suddenly reappeared triumphantly, wrapping an arm around Freddy's waist and pushing him against the fridge in one smooth motion. His shoulders landed with a whoomph that might have been a little painful had he not been distracted with an armful of Davey.
"You got him in bed?" Freddy said happily into Davey's mouth, slamming the dishwasher shut with his foot. "It's only been a half hour. That's the best time you've made yet."
"Who's your daddy?" Davey asked lowly, grinnig wickedly as he pushed their hips together. "What, ready already?"
"It's been a long time," Freddy said defensively. "We never do it in daylight anymore. I was thinking about it."
"Mmm," Davey agreed, pulling Freddy upstairs. "I never get to really take my time with you either, anymore."
"We could take time," Freddy agreed, slowly slipping off Davey's undershirt. He was as lanky as ever, though his angles were softened, sleek and refined instead of brand new. Sometimes Freddy would miss the coltish, innocent beauty of Davey when they were first dating, but the thought of giving up this man he'd become was unacceptable - reading glasses, crow's feet, and occasional indigestion included. Davey was examining him equally as closely, pushing his shirt of gently and caressing the plane of his stomach that wasn't as taut as it used to be, the sprinkling of chest hair that was growing a little more hairy.
"Gorgeous," Davey finally concluded, tugging Freddy on their bed which had unfortunately seen far more sleeping than sex going on on it lately. And Freddy was going to change that, as soon as he finished kissing Davey, who tasted of breakfast and a little beer.
"You did have some of Franz's cocktail!" He said proudly.
"Franz sent that beer?" Davey asked, looking a little sex-stupid.
"That's how he deals with the idea of paternity," Freddy explained. "Inebriation."
"That's strangely sensible," Davey said after a little thought.
"I know, right? Except maybe he should never be a father."
"Agreed," Davey nodded, pushing Freddy's sweatpants off. "Now, about that Father's Day sex..."
"God, I love you," Freddy said, pushing Davey's pants down too. Normally what they'd do is just jerk each other off, swallowing back their moans so Scott wouldn't wake up. But maybe they could actually have sex. God, Freddy hadn't fucked Davey in months, and it was even longer since Davey'd returned the favor. And Davey's ass felt nice in his hands. It was still small, but less than it used to be, now that Davey seemed to have passed the point of puberty where retaining body fat was a physical impossibility. And Davey was really getting into this, making tin noises under him, his legs coming up to wrap around Freddy's waist, panting and grasping and oh, maybe they'd just take the edge off like this, just like they were sixteen again, he was so close - and then he heard it, a howl. Not the arousing sort of "oh, I am about to jizz my brains out thanks to your sexy maneuvers" howl from Davey, but a "I have wet my diaper and am very displeased about it" howl from an entirely different quarter.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Freddy groaned, untangling himself and glaring at his hard-on. It was all his erection's fault. It needed wooing now. If he was in college all he'd need was for Davey to do that weird twisty hand motion and he'd be coming his brain out. If he was twenty, they would so not be having this problem.
"I've got it," Davey said, taking a few deep breaths and making that squinty face that told Freddy he was picturing something wholy unappetizing to kill his erection, which was pretty damn effective, sort of like watching a balloon lose air rapidly. Unfortunately, watching Davey's penis wasn't exactly helping to tame his own. Involuntarily, he whimpered.
"Take a shower," Davey said softly, leaning over and giving Freddy a slow kiss around his bellybutton, which made Freddy groan louder. If Davey would just move a little lower, it wouldn't take too long...
Scott wailed more insistently.
"Fine," Freddy grumbled, grabbing his towel and stomping to their master bathroom while Davey went to soothe their son.
It was a really good thing toddlers were so fucking cute.
- - -
Scott had been grumbly after his diaper change, but when Davey had offered a ream and suggested he draw a Daddy's Day present, he had happily flung himself on the living room floor and began scribbling furiously, which meant Davey could call Joey and his mother in relative peace. His mother made the normal grandmotherly inquiries before leaving to tend to the Sunday crowds (she was going to be in that bakery until she died, Davey was sure) and then listened enviously while Joey described his nice, peaceful Father's Day with presents. And no screaming. (Well, Susie did shriek when she laughed, but that was the good kind of screaming.) He got lots of polite, adorable wishes from his nieces (Helen rhapsodizing about the book he got her, Lucy kissing the phone, Susie giggling) and was halfway through an enjoyable discussion on nothing with Betsy when Freddy stomped unhappily into the room, even his curls looking grumpy and wilted.
"The mister's back and grumpy," Davey said to Betsy, interrupting a story about taking pictures at the wedding from hell. "He's not having a good day today."
"Poor guy," Betsy laughed sympathetically. "He called trying to get us to take Scott, he really wanted to romance you today. It was so pathetic I actually considered it, but Joey's been real down about that case at work, so..."
"You're a saint for even considering it," Davey assured her when Freddy slumped down next to him on the couch and rested his head Davey's shoulder sadly. Davey started carding through Freddy's hair, attempting to untangle it. Freddy tended not to bother with combs.
"You'll miss this one day, you know," Betsy said. "Believe me, Joey whisked me off my first Mother's Day and it didn't feel right at all."
"Yeah, I remember," Davey said. "And my boys tried to make me breakfast, which was cute."
"Well, go work on making your man happy," Betsy said. "Give everyone a kiss for me."
"Love you," Davey said, hanging up.
"Betsy?" Freddy asked, watching Scott color with a marker in each hand.
"Yup," Davey said. "How was your shower?"
"Awful," Freddy grumbled. "You know what I found in the drain? A gray hair.. My first gray hair."
"So?"
"So?!" Freddy leaned heavily on Davey. "I'm getting old. Pops is supposed to be the one with gray hair, Davey."
"I hope you don't think that," Davey rolled his eyes. "I've got tons of gray hairs, look." He pointed at a temple.
"That isn't gray, that's blond," Freddy said stubbornly, examining it.
"You don't see what I shave, it's turning really gray," Davey replied.
"Scott is making us old," Freddy said sadly. "Now he's giving me them too."
"He wasn't the only one who put them there," Davey affectionately squeezed Freddy's shoulder.
"It's different with you," Freddy said. "You're going to look sexy with gray hair. I'm probably going to end up being the bald one."
"BALD DADDY!" Scott agreed joyously, deciding now was the time to play with Freddy's foot. Freddy played along, making growling noises and tickling his belly. Scott wriggled in excitement and grabbed at Freddy's toes, shrieking when Freddy reached down and tugged at his ridiculously angelic curly blond hair.
"I thought we were going to make it," He said under his breath to Davey. "We came so close."
"Maybe we won't be so tired tonight," Davey said, already fighting his way around a yawn. Freddy groaned.
"You're a real uncool guy sometimes, Scott Alexander Kennedy," Freddy said half-seriously.
"STORY TIME!" Scott declared as a response, sitting down heavily on his round hindquarters. He tugged at Freddy's pants. "READ ME A STORY DADDY!"
Freddy made a strangled noise. "Maybe later, kiddo, Daddy's feeling a little -"
"STORY TIME!" Scott demanded. He gave Freddy's pants another rough yank. "STORY TIME!" His cheeks were already starting to darken, his mouth was widening, and his chin was beginning to crumple in the makings of a tantrum.
"Story time it is," Freddy agreed quickly. Scott cheered and tugged at Freddy's foot. His face began to return to it's normal color, like a receding storm. "What's he into now?" Freddy asked, sliding off of the couch and stretching. "I tried to crack open The Very Hungry Caterpillar yesterday and he almost had a seizure. He doesn't like that book any more."
"Hop on Pop," Davey said wearily. "It's kind of appropriate, actually. But he gets into it."
"I really hate Dr. Seuss," Freddy said passionately. "I really, really, really hate Dr. Seuss. Can't we go back to Henry and Mudge? Those books were shorter. And better."
"He just likes the rhyming parts," Davey replied. "And the voices. He likes it when you do the Fat Albert voice for Pop. "Who knows? He might get tired after you read," Davey offered half heartedly.
Freddy brightened a little. "STORY TIME STORY TIME STORY TIME!" Scott hollered from the floor impatiently, throwing a marker at Freddy's knee.
"Stop it," Freddy chided, pushing the markers away from Scott and heading towards his room. "Maybe he'll only make me read it once," he hissed to Davey on his way out.
"Yeah," Davey said, opening the newspaper. "Good luck with that."
But if anything, the book energized Scott, and since Mitzi was starting to get antsy too, Freddy decided the best policy was to let them run in the yard and tire each other out while he got to work on his favorite project that had nothing to do with Davey naked - the kickass tree house he was building for Scott (and maybe he thought, another kid. He wanted one, a little bit). The frame was up but it looked just like an enlarged birdhouse, like every other tree house. No, Scott was the great-grandson of a carpenter and Freddy's son. He was a Kennedy. If there was something that could be built with wood, a Kennedy would have the best, most amazing one to be had. It was the way things worked. Currently, Freddy was fitting in the windows with molding. It had the advantage of leaving him able to watch Scott and Mitzi run around in circles. Mitzi loved Freddy and Davey, but there was no doubt that she was Scott's dog through and through.
Also, if he was honest, it was a lot a present for Davey, because it seemed to make him happy to watch Freddy build this, and Davey looked like he needed a smile. Currently, he was pacing on the porch, trying to talk his management out of a tour to promote his new album of compositions.
"No, I know that it sells better when they can hear it live," Davey was saying, pinching his nose. "Yeah, I know it's better when they see me, because I'm young. No, but you know I've got a son, Mike. I'm not leaving him for six months. Yeah, no, I'm not leaving my husband that long either." Pause. "You know what Mike? It's Sunday and it's Father's Day. Yeah, really. Can I have a day off? I'll have a new way of saying no tomorrow, I promise." A pause. "Goodbye, Mike, don't call me back or I won't go on tour at all. Yeah, I'm serious. Bye." Freddy was starting to go down to comfort Davey, but he'd stomped back in the house and a few minutes later the sound of angry piano came from the music room.
"Daddy," Scott's voice piped up from under the tree house. "DADDY."
"Hey buddy," Freddy climbed down and scooped Scott into his arms. "What's up?"
"Puppy going pee pee," Scott said, pointing at Mitzi, who was indeed emptying her bladder.
"She's doing a good job," Freddy said, smoothing down Scott's curls.
"Papa sad," Scott said, touching Freddy's face with a grubby hand. "Why?"
"Papa doesn't want to have to go on a long trip for work," Freddy explained. "Leaving you makes Papa sad."
"Papa don't go!" Scott cried vehemently, pounding Freddy's shoulder.
"Papa's not going anywhere right now," Freddy assured him. "Neither is Daddy."
"HOORAY!" Scott screamed.
"You know what would make Papa happy?" Freddy said, putting Scott down. "Why don't you pick some flowers with Mitzi and go tell Papa what you told me?"
"KAY!!!" Scott yelled, scampering off to the patch of dandelions while Freddy patted himself on the back. He was clearly the best husband ever.
- - -
"Papa," A hushed voice called from the corner of the room.
Davey looked up from where he had been playing. Scott was standing in the doorway, as quiet as Davey had seen him all day. He waddled on over to the piano bench, leaving little half circles of mud where he walked. Davey thanked his stars briefly that they'd gotten hardwood floors instead of carpeting. When Scott got to the bench, he held out a various assortment of plants - long strands of grass, a few strangled dandelions, the heads of a few purple tulips and what looked like the entirety of Davey's tomato plants. Mentally, Davey bid farewell to his garden for another year. The blossoms were all bundled together in one small muddy fist, that Scott solemnly held out to Davey. "Flowers," he said simply
"Thank you," Davey said, taking the wet, bedraggled bundle out of Scott's hand, heart swelling. He picked up his son up and held him in his lap. Scott, thankfully, didn't squirm or kick this time, but sat still and wrapped his muddy arms around Davey's neck.
"Papa not going anywhere." Scott said, oddly firmly.
"No," Davey agreed, squeezing Scott tightly. "I'm not."
"Papa stay here?"
"Uh-huh," Davey buried his head in Scott's soft curls. He needed a bath. "I'm not leaving you guys. I'm going to stay right here where I belong, with you and Mitzi and Daddy. I love you."
"Glad to hear that," Freddy admitted, leaning in the doorway. His forehead had a thin sheen of sweat on it and he was still wearing his thick woodworking gloves. Davey's breath caught, and Freddy smirked slowly in response.
"I play in treehouse now?" Scott perked up.
"Not yet," Freddy peeled off his gloves. "It's going to take some time, kiddo. You'll have the best treehouse ever when I'm done."
"When play in treehouse?" Scott frowned.
"Not for a long time." Freddy wiped his hands, looking up at Davey. "I made progress today, though. I think I know what I'm going to do for the walls."
"Long time?" Scott interrupted, his face turning red. "Not play for long time?"
"Give me a break," Freddy said, a little exhausted. "It's got platform framing and everything. Daddy's only one person. Grandpops is getting too old to climb up into trees with Daddy ---"
Davey shushed Freddy as Scott started to sob uncontrollably. He jiggled his knee comfortingly, rubbing Scott's heaving back. "It'll be fine, honey. Daddy'll finish someday, promise."
But Scott had already hushed his tears, and was looking excitedly at the array of black and white keys spread out before him. "Play piano now?"
"You take bath now," Davey corrected. "Bath time after playtime, remember?"
Scott ignored him, bringing his fists down on the keys, which loudly sounded discordant notes. Davey flinched. Scott, amused, kept at it. "BANG BANG" Scott yelled joyfully. "BANG BANG BANG BANG."
"At least our kid is musical," Freddy grinned, hands over his ears.
- - -
Freddy and Davey had already decided to grill for Father's Day as a compromise - something Davey could prepare and Freddy could do without blowing up the house. Davey had already set everything to marinade and made veggie kabobs waiting for Freddy in the fridgeso he could grill while he bathed Scott, who was singing "Rubber Duckie" in a strangely subdued voice - by which Freddy meant he couldn't hear him outside, only from downstairs.
Freddy was humming "Rubber Duckie" to himself (that song never got out of your head), flipping Scott's hot dogs to the uncooked side when Davey came out and kissed the back of his neck, wrapping his arms around Freddy's middle.
"Hey baby," Freddy twisted around and giving Davey a quick kiss on the lips. "What'd you do wth the monster?"
"He told me he wanted to do art and it was a surprise, so I've been evicted."
"That sounds like a bad idea waiting to happen," Freddy said, raising an eyebrow.
"Look, I can see him from here," Davey said, nodding through the sliding door to where Scott was working through a pile of paper, scribbling furiously while Mitzi lay next to him, her head pillowed on his feet.
"It's been a good day," Freddy said after a few minutes, watching Scott and Mitzi curl up like a Hallmark card called "Happiness is a Warm Puppy" or something.
"Scott was strangely well behaved," Davey agreed.
"I like that kid," Freddy decided, the meat off the grill. "Wanna keep him?" Davey opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment Scott decided he was done.
"DADDIES!" He called from the other side of the screen. "HUNGY."
"Dinner's ready, bucko," Davey said, untangling himself from Freddy and bringing Scott to the table. "You want hotdogs?"
"PRESENTS." Scott said, wriggling to get down.
"We don't have any presents for you," Davey explained. "It's not Christmas or your birthday, Scotty."
"Nooooo," Scott said, rolling his eyes as if Davey had said something extremely stupid. "Presents for Daddies."
"I see," Davey nodded. "You want to give them before dinner?"
"PRESENTS!" Scott shouted running inside to where he'd been drawing and looking through some paper with the air of great concentration while Davey brought out plates and silverware. "KAY," Scott said finally after Freddy had already served both his and Davey's meat and cut Scott's hotdogs and veggies. "PRESENT FOR DADDIES." Proudly, he waddled outside and shoved a slightly crumpled picture onto Davey's lap before clambering onto Freddy's, unmindful as always of Freddy's more sensitive areas. "IT'S ART" he explained, as if it was unclear.
"It's beautiful," Davey said, wiping his hands on a napkin and picking it up, running his fingers down the four blobs of color.
"IS A FAMILY," Scott explained jubilantly. "DADDY AND PAPA," he pointed to the two biggest green and blue blobs, "PUPPY," he pointed to the brown blob, "SCOTTY," he pointed to the bright red blob.
"I love it," Freddy said, kissing Scott's head. "It's the most beautiful thing you've ever drawn."
"FRAME!" Scott shouted happily, watching an clapping as Davey went inside and slipped the paper into the frame they'd bought for Scott's artwork, taking out the page of the coloring book he'd scribbled on earlier that week.
"Thank you, sweetheart," Davey said softly when he came back out, picking up Scott and kissing his face all over until he squealed. "You're the best baby in the whole world."
"OKAY." Scott said happily, clapping. "I AM."
- - -
"I play in the yard tomorrow?" Scott looked up hopefully at Davey and Freddy. He was wearing a fire engine red onesie with footies and yawning. It was hard to remember that he had, on more than one occasion, reduced either Davey and Freddy to near nervous breakdowns. His eyes were round and blue and completely devoid angry tears or anything else except for hopeful pleading.
"Sure thing, kiddo." Freddy said, smoothing a hand over his hair as he lowered Scott into his crib. Davey pulled up his blankie and tucked it around him warmly.
"I play in the garden," Scott said decisively. "With Papa and Daddy... and Puppy." He yawned again, long eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks, limbs spread out akimbo.
"G'night Papa," Scott said in his crib. Davey leaned in and kissed Scott.
"Good night, Scott." he said softly.
"G'night Daddy."
Freddy leaned in and kissed him on his smooth pink cheek. "Good night, Scotty."
The only response that came was Scott's quiet, deep snoring. Davey raised a finger to his lips, carefully pushing the mobile of rockets and airplanes into motion, while Freddy switched on the night light while Davey bent over and pet Mitzi, who had laid down on her doggy bed. They had moved her to sleep in Scott's room, or she'd whine until she could stand watch over her particular favorite.
"Good girl," Davey said. Her tail thumped up and down.
"He snores just like you," Freddy said, amused, quietly shutting the door.
---
"Fatherhood," Freddy exhaled, falling forwards on their bed. "Nothing like it, huh?" He looked at the dresser drawer and debated relative merits of sleeping in pajamas over jeans versus the astronomical effort required to get up and change, and instead just kicked off his jeans.
"Nope," Davey sighed into the pillow beside him, already undressed and under the covers. "Our kid is a terror."
"Yeah," Freddy said happily. "Yeah, he is."
"Think I might want another, sometime," Davey whispered, as if confessing a great secret.
"Yeah," Freddy nodded. "Once Scott grows up a little I do too."
"A lttle girl, maybe," Davey sighed.
"Christ, what would we do with a girl?" Freddy laughed. "I don't know jack shit about girls."
"We didn't used to know anything about babies, either," Davey pointed out.
"We're pretty good," Freddy agreed.
Davey's cool hand slipped into his and squeezed. He slid into Freddy's side of the bed, settling his head on Freddy's chest. "Happy Father's Day, Freddy."
"Happy Father's Day, Davey." Davey's toes curled happily against him.
"You know, we could probably have sex now," Freddy said in a low voice against Davey's ear, half-heartedly. Davey stirred in response. "Davey?"
"Sorry, what?" He mumbled. "I dozed off, there."
"Nothing," Freddy murmured in response. "I love you, Davey."
Davey leaned in and kissed him slowly. "I love you too."