(no subject)
Title: The Sandbox Chronicles (20/20)
Chapter Title: EPILOGUE
Author: me
Rating: pg
Summary: It all started in a sandbox.
Disclaimer: i own none of this
Author's Notes: well my friends, it is the end. the epilogue. the end of the road. whatever. i'd like to thank you all for the lovely comments, feedback, and what not. i love you all for taking the time to read this and comment on it. warnings for this: FULL OF SCHMOOP!! it's one of those predictable endings. :)
Ten years down the road…
Eight-year-old Mary huffs indignantly. She shoves her glasses up her nose, stomps her foot, and lunges at her little six-year-old brother Sam. He screams good and loud and covers his head with hands to protect himself. Mary, brown curls bouncing wildly in her ponytail and glasses still slipping, pokes him in the side.
“Where’s my Barbie, Sammy?” she screeches and keeps poking him.
“I don’t know! Daddy help me!” Sam cries and rolls over in the sand to get away from his abusive older sister.
Sam peeks out from under the protective circle of his arms as Mary keeps on poking and prodding. He can see his daddy sitting on a bench, shaking his head and smiling. He stands, black hair flopping too long in his face, and runs over. “You’re gonna get it,” Sam shouts at Mary and quickly jumps up and runs away. He doesn’t make it far before he’s being grabbed by the back of his plaid button up and hauled back to his daddy.
Sam struggles, because he is determined not to get in trouble for his sister’s actions again. But his father has a good strong grip on the back of his shirt, even with a toddler in his other arm. “Dad, this isn’t fair!” Sam whines.
Kris shrugs. “Sorry kiddo. If you can’t play fair with your sister then it’s up to us to figure it out. You know the rules,” he stops walking and lets go of Sam’s shirt.
“Daddy, Sam took my Barbie!” Mary stomps her foot again, an accusatory finger pointed in the direction of Sam. Sam fidgets where he stands, feet shuffling in the soft sand of the sandbox.
Adam crouches down to Mary’s level and she crosses her arms with a loud huff. “Are you sure?” She nods her head wildly, ponytail swinging fast and hitting Sam in the face. Sam lunges, landing right on her back. She screams, doesn’t move, just screams. Adam winces. “You definitely didn’t get Kris’ genes,” he mumbles as he tries to pry Sam off of Mary’s back.
Finally, Sam drops to the ground after losing his grip on Mary’s pink sun dress. Kris grabs Sam by the shirt again and holds Sam against his leg. Sam, pouting, crosses his arms and glares at Mary. “I didn’t take her Barbie!” Sam cries, turning watery brown eyes to his dad.
Sam is almost the complete spitting image of Kris, along with Mary. Eight years ago, give or take a few months, Mary Danielle was born by a surrogate, Kris the donor. She got only one feature of the mother, the nose, but besides that she has the brown hair that gets fluffy from time to time, the big chocolate eyes, the glasses, the short build; even at eight she’s not very tall for her age. Then two years later came Sam Neil, Kris the donor again. He got more of the build of Kris, the brown eyes, but his hair is almost black, a feature he shares with the mother. And now, Kris holds baby Ellie, eighteen months, with her strawberry blonde hair and big blue eyes and the freckles dotting her face. One look and anyone could tell that Adam was the donor this time around.
“Play nice or we’re going home,” Kris warns. “Apologize.” Sam rolls his eyes but holds his arms out for his sister. Mary sighs like this is the most difficult things she’s ever had to do in her eight years. They hug and soon enough it turns into one big, tight hug. They pull away grinning at each other.
“Now go! Have fun in the sandbox,” Adam prods and guides them back to the middle of the sandbox where their toys are spread about. But Adam doesn’t leave. Instead he sits on one of the pieces of wood, redone after years of weather damage, and looks at Kris expectantly.
Kris sighs, shaking his head, and hands him Ellie, then joins in the sitting. Kris watches as Adam holds Ellie up and blows a raspberry into her tummy, sending her into a fit of giggles. He watches the way his hair keeps flopping in his face no matter how many times he pushes it back; it’s time for a haircut. The laugh lines and wrinkles around his eyes and his mouth are only hidden by the make-up but he looks like the same Adam Kris has known since he was seven.
The sandbox. Kris smiles, turning to watch Mary and Sam play peacefully now in the sand with their different toys. Mary likes My Little Pony and Barbie’s while Sam likes his dinosaurs and trucks. Kris even handed down Little Foot and Adam handed down his t-rex, which Sam keeps on his bookshelf along with all his favorite action figures.
They deal with the paparazzi and the numerous pictures spread over tabloids and the internet. Most of them give up after a while but there’s still those persistent ones that want dirt on the Allen-Lambert family. Ten years ago when the media caught wind of the divorce with Katy, Kris could deal. This, though, irks him beyond belief but he doesn’t let it get to him.
Nine years ago when Adam stood with Kris in the middle of the sandbox and held his hand and asked him to marry him, the press saw it all. The press knew about the relationship, released stupid gossip to tabloids and places all over the internet. Then months later they bombarded friends and family members as they flooded the church on the wedding day. The press was their for the birth of Mary, for the birth of Sam, and eighteen months ago for Ellie. They have been there through almost everything.
Sometimes Kris wonders what would have happened if he had just let all those feelings for Adam go. If he had stuck it out with Katy. He figures they would have gotten a divorce eventually, somewhere down the road. He wonders how life would have been if he hadn’t of met Adam as a seven year old playing in the same sandbox. Would he have still met him at Idol? Would he have met him some other time? Would he have ever known Adam Lambert at all?
Now, things just feel right. It feels like all the puzzle pieces have clicked into place and all the holes have been filled and all the wrongs have been righted. Minus a few bumps in the road, and the press, life is pretty much the epitome of perfection in Kris’ eyes.
A loud squeal interrupts Kris’ thoughts. He looks over and sees Adam sprawled out on the grass, Ellie giggling on his chest and squishing his cheeks. “Daddy,” she giggles and looks over at Kris, still squishing Adam’s cheeks with her tiny fingers. Adam groans, raising a hand to rub the back of his head.
“Ow my as-” He stops himself, smiling sheepishly at Kris. “I mean ow my butt.” Ellie flies into a fit of giggles again, this time using both hands to scrunch Adam’s cheeks until his lips are puckered and he looks like a fish. Kris laughs and takes Ellie into his arms.
“Daddy fell?” Kris asks her in a mock whisper.
Ellie nods, blue eyes bright. He presses a kiss to her chubby cheek, scattered with freckles. Mary shrieks in the sand. Kris turns his attention to the pair. Sam is on top of Mary fighting for the dinosaur he’s holding onto tightly, the other end in Mary’s hands. Kris sighs. It’s times like these that he wonders if somehow he wasn’t the donor of those two; if maybe Adam switched them because he wanted kids that were just as loud as him.
“Break it up you two.” Kris watches Adam pluck the toy from between them. They stare at him like he’s grown another head, then Mary is lunging for another dinosaur. Sam retaliates by taking a pony by the hair and flinging it out of the sandbox. Shaking his head, Kris sets Ellie in the sand so she can play then lets Adam pull him to his feet. “You wanna be the warden this time or me?” Adam asks him quietly, hand running through Kris’ hair to fluff it up.
“Your turn,” Kris mutters and then Adam’s giving him a kiss right there in the middle of the sandbox.
After all, it all started in that sandbox.