Your Local Bimbo

Your shared New York apartment has become something of a little home built around two impossibly conflicting schedules. Magazines are stacked on the coffee table, the phone rings at all hours of the day and night, and the shelves lining the living room are filling full of the knickknacks Dick brings home. 

The clock on your hallway wall reads a little after ten in the morning when you decide to give in and head back to your bedroom to crawl back into bed with him. Dick's sprawled across the bed on his back, his hair messy, with one arm thrown over his head. You smile as you watch the rise and fall of his chest. You slide under the blankets with him, the mattress shifting just enough that he makes a small noise in response. 

"Mm." He mumbles, eyes closed and still half asleep.

"Good morning to you too." You laugh softly, letting your fingertips trail up his chest. 

His eyes open slowly, realizing it's you lying with him. His whole faces changes then— the tiredness is still there, but it softens entirely. Waking up and seeing you is the best part of his day. The only time he gets a bit of time to breath. The only time he doesn't have to solve someone else's problems. He blinks a few times, one arm circling you and the one above his head moves to rub his eyes, "Hi." 

You smile, resting your chin on his chest. "Hi." 

He lets out a sleepy little laugh, paired with a sleepy little grin. He pulls you closer, resting his cheek against your hair. He takes a deep breath and lets his eyes close again. 

"You were supposed to be up ten minutes ago." You mumble to him. 

"I was up." He chuckles, rubbing between your shoulder blades slowly. 

You raise your brows, "you were?"

"Okay… no, not really. But I was doing a very good impression of an awake person." He chuckles softly as his eyes open again. 

You just roll your eyes, "you were practically drooling."

"I was not." He pulls back from you slightly, eyebrows knitting down in offense. 

"Unfortunately, baby. You were." You tease softly, propping yourself up to meet his eyes. 

"That sounds like something someone would say if they wanted to hurt me before noon." He jokes, trying to stretch his back in the awkward position he's in, without letting go of you. 

"You work in television. You're around people every day who hurt you for a living." You grin. He smiles back, still closer to being asleep than awake. You brush hair away from his face and smile, leaning in to kiss him gently. "You need to get up."

His eyes close immediately and he tries to turn away, dodging the kiss, "no."

"Dick, come on." 

"No."

"You have to be at the studio at one." You say softly, fingers trailing from his hair down his jaw. 

"That's three whole hours away." He mumbles, leaning into your touch. You run your fingertips across his cheekbone, over his lips, stopping at his chin as you look at him. His eyes flutter open and he huffs, "fine."

You finally convince him to get out of bed with a few more kisses and a promise to stop by the studio later, though it takes longer than you anticipated. Every time you tell him he has to actually move, he comes up with yet another reason why he shouldn't. He needs coffee. He needs to think. He needs to mentally prepare for the day. Mentally preparing appears to mean sitting at the edge of the bed in his underwear, staring at the wall. 

Eventually though, he does get moving. And once he's awake— he's awake. He's talking, rattling off ideas for your wedding as he searches through the closet for something to wear. The closet is a disaster at this point. 

"You cannot wear that." You say softly as he pulls out a suit. 

"Why not?" He frowns as he looks at you, then back down to the suit, "I like it."

"I know you do." You smile. The suit is incredible in the most ridiculous way you can imagine. It's stitched together in differing shades of blue patches. It's the kind of thing someone wears when they're trying to convince the world something brand new and exciting deserves a chance. "Just… normal people wear normal suits." You say softly, leaning against the doorway of your bedroom. 

"Normal people aren't trying to launch a live sketch comedy show on Saturday night." He laughs as he buttons his shirt, "besides, that's why I have you."

"What? To dress normally in public so you can dress like a peacock?" You tease. You do love the clothing. You love how unapologetically Dick it is and how he's unafraid of being himself. 

"Yeah." he says, smiling at you through the mirror. "And I know that you like it." 

You hate that he's right. You do like it. Love it even. You like the way his mind works. The way he gets excited over ideas other people dismiss. The way he talks about your future together like if he just works hard enough, his own two hands will build it up just right. Through exhaustion, through stress, through the teasing the guys at the studio do because of his favorite suits. You love everything about him. You retreat to the kitchen as he starts to mess around with his hair.

By the time he's ready to leave, you've got his lunch waiting. You've packed it— because you know him in a way no other thankfully ever will. You know he'll get busy, forget to grab something, and eventually it's 9pm and he's realizing he's not eaten all day. He comes out to the kitchen and smiles at the lunch waiting for him on the table as he pours himself a coffee. "You made me lunch?"

"Of course." You smile, leaning your hip against the counter. 

"You're amazing." He sighs happily, taking a sip of the coffee before abandoning the cup on the countertop in favor of wrapping his arms around you. He holds onto you for an extra second, trying to store the feeling of you pressed tightly to his body, his eyes slip closed. "You know this is going to work, right?"

You rub his back, pulling away slightly just to look up at him, "the show?"

He nods. 

“I know.” You smile and then fix his collar, smoothing it down. "Go make your weird little television thing with your friend." You say softly. 

He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, and finally gives you one last kiss against your lips. Then he smiles and grabs his lunch. At the door, he grabs his keys and straightens his shoulders out a bit. 

"I love you." You smile softly, grabbing the coffee mug he'd abandoned and bringing it to your lips. You take a sip. 

He gives you one last smile, opening the door. "I love you too." He says softly. Then he's gone, off to do something no one else has ever done. 

The early September sun is spilling streams of golden light through the tree tops, turning the whole park into a painting right in front of you. The grass is still green, but scattered with the first traces of falling red and yellow leaves. The air smells dry and like distant woodsmoke rising through the air with the many bonfires the campers must be having a hop, skip, and a jump away. You were holding tight to Eddie’s hand as you walked— or, more accurately, as you waddle, because you’re very, very pregnant with yours and Eddie’s second daughter. A baby you’ve decided to name, Roan— but he was a few steps ahead of you now and Alice is sitting high up on his shoulders, her little hands clutching fistfuls of untamed brown curls, shrieking with laughter every time he pretends to stumble dramatically. “Whoaaa, we’re gonna fall, Bats, save me!” he cries out as she giggles so hard her legs kick at his chest and she nearly topples off. You know he’s missed her just as much as she’s missed him.

“Don’t you dare drop her, Ed,” you call up to them, though you’re smiling as you shake your head.

“Pfft,” Eddie scoffs at the mere thought, shifting her legs a bit so she’s more secure. “We’re fine. Aren’t we, Princess?”

“Yeahhh!” Alice shouts from the perch that just happens to be her father’s shoulders. Her cheeks are as rosy as Eddie’s and her tiny pink boots dangle against his chest. You shake your head again, letting them have their fun up ahead while you keep your pace a few steps behind. One of your hands is resting protectively against your stomach. Roan kicks a few times— either enjoying the excitement above or annoyed she isn’t able to be in on it just yet— you give the fabric there a gentle rub with your thumb and mumble a little “easy, baby” to her.

The park seems to be bustling today. Kids are running around with kites and footballs a few feet away, dogs are tugging at leashes as they pass you on the sidewalks, parents trailing after toddlers with coffee cups held close to their chests. So the three of you find a quieter path just off to the side of the main one, a little trail edged with tall grass and little wildflowers, where the noise dies down to the crunch of yours and Eddie’s boots on the gravel.

“Alright,” Eddie declares with a huff, stopping dramatically and lowering Alice to the ground with both hands, bending at the waist in a bow. “My legs are officially dead. We walk on our own now, okay, Tater Tot?”

Alice beams up at him and then claps her hands before she’s running ahead a few paces. She’s got her arms out like she’s flying. “I’m a dragon!” she announces, turning her head to make sure Eddie’s watching, giggling when she sees that he is.

“Oh, scary,” Eddie laughs, his grin growing wider as he follows her quickly down the path, leaving you a few steps behind on purpose so you can take it easy. “Better not breathe fire on Daddy.”

You just resign yourself to watching them— your tall, lanky, rockstar of a husband, crouching down to flap his arms like wings with her, making silly growling noises— when Alice screeches to a halt and drops to her knees on the path, gravel digging into her skin.

“What’ve you got, baby?” you call, catching up to them slowly but surely, hand still pressed against your belly.

“Bug!” she squeals, pointing to the ground in front of where she’s kneeling.

Eddie crouches down beside her, his hair falling in his face as he squints. “Whoa-ho Tater Tot, that’s not just any bug! That’s a woolly bear!”

Alice looks up at him like he holds the answers to everything life could ever throw at her, her brown eyes wide. “Bear?”

You laugh softly and ease yourself down to sit on the pavement beside them, careful of your belly. “Not a real bear, honey. Just a fuzzy caterpillar. See? Look how soft it looks.”

Eddie gently coaxes it up onto his finger, holding it out for her to see it just a bit better. The little caterpillar inches along his knuckle, black at both ends and that signature rusty orange in the middle. “See the fuzz? That’s why they call ’em woolly bears,” he explains, turning his hand just a bit so she can look closer. “Supposed to tell you how bad winter’s gonna be, too. Grandpa Wayne used to say if the orange band’s wide, it won’t be too cold. If it’s skinny, better get ready to freeze your butt off.”

Alice giggles at butt, and you swat at his arm lightly. “Eddie.”

“What? She’s gotta learn sometime, baby,” he teases, flashing you a smile full of white teeth before he turns back to Alice. “Do you wanna hold it, princess?”

At first she looks a bit hesitant to try, her little fingers hovering just over Eddie’s. But then she nods shyly, and Eddie guides the caterpillar down onto her palm. Her face lights up immediately, like she’s just been entrusted with the most magical treasure they could’ve found.

“Its feet are tickley,” she whispers.

You melt watching them together. Eddie crouched there on the path, his big hand steady under hers so she didn't drop the little guy on the pavement. His eyes are soft and sparkling with pride at her bravery. You can practically feel your heart swelling two sizes in your chest.

After a minute or two, she carefully sets it back down in the grass. “Bye-bye, bear,” she giggles, giving it a little wave.

“Nice work, sweetheart,” Eddie says, ruffling her own little mop of brown curls. Then he leans back on his hands toward you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before he whispers, “You okay down here? Need help getting up?”

You roll your eyes as he stands and holds his hand out, grinning yourself as you take it. “I’m fine. Just a little slower than I used to be. You know how it goes.”

He helps you to your feet, steadying you with a hand on your lower back while Alice skips ahead just by a few steps. She’s still chirping on about the woolly bear as she peaks under leaves at the side of the path. When you’re steadily upright again, Eddie leans in and presses another gentle kiss to your temple. He mumbles, “God, you’re so beautiful,” right above your ear and just low enough that only you can hear.

It takes a moment to get Alice’s attention back, but the three of you keep walking. You find a bench after a while to rest on, which you’re more than thankful for. Alice climbs up into Eddie’s lap to play with the rings on his fingers while you lean against his shoulder, your hands laced over your belly. The afternoon goes on like that— quiet, without the hustle and bustle of tour life. It’s warm. It’s simple. Eddie buys Alice a little paper cup of cider from a stand, and you sneak a sip of it too. At one point she insists on collecting treasures— acorns, a red leaf, a smooth pebble— and Eddie gingerly holds out his pockets for her to fill, inspecting each item she shoves in.

By the time the sun starts dipping behind the trees, painting the sky pink and orange, Alice is yawning against his chest. You’re walking back to the car, her little hands still clutching his shirt. “Ready to go home, my little dragon?” he mumbles, brushing her curls back from her face as he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

She nods sleepily in response, and you smile at them both as Eddie adjusts his grip and holds a now free hand out to you. 

“This has been the best day ever,” Eddie says quietly, as you stop in front of the car— Alice is dozing on his shoulder now, your own free hand resting on the swell of your belly. “You, me, our girls, and a fuckin’ woolly bear.”

You bump your hip against his and laugh softly, just nodding at him. “Doesn’t really get better than this.”

“Damn right it doesn’t,” he agrees with you, pressing one more kiss to your hair before leaning in to buckle Alice into her car seat.

It truly doesn’t get better than this. 

It’s July 4th, 1996, and Los Angeles feels like it’s absolutely doing its best to cook you alive. Even living this close to the beach the air hangs hotter and heavier than you remember back in Hawkins. The inside of the rover feels like it’s approximately the temperature of the sun’s surface by the time Eddie throws himself into the driver’s seat and sticks the keys in the ignition. You’re sitting shotgun with your hair already sticking to the back of your neck. You’ve got a damp paper towel pressed there to help you keep from actually melting. In the back, Alice sits in her car seat with her legs kicking, wearing a little star-spangled sundress and clutching the bat Eddie had gotten from that claw machine years ago, to her chest.

Eddie leans his arm across the back of your seat and twists to glance behind him before pulling out of the driveway. “Alright, ladies,” he says happily, flicking the blinker on. “Prepare yourselves. You’re about to witness the most patriotic feat known to man— a Munson parallel parking at a crowded festival on the Fourth of July.”

You groan softly and run your hand through your hair to tame the flyaways. “Can we just get there first before you start celebrating your victory?”

“Bats,” he tells you, not even looking at you as he steers one-handed, letting the other hand fall into your lap, tucking his fingers contently between your thighs, “half the battle is confidence.” You cannot wrap your head around the fact he’s wearing sleeves right now. 

From the back seat, Alice chirps up, “Con-fi-dence!” and Eddie nearly swerves from laughing so hard.

“That’s my girl,” he calls back to her, eyes flicking up to beam into the rearview. “See? She gets it. Her old man’s a genius.”

“You’re something,” you mumble, but you’re smiling anyway as he shoots you a quick, proud grin, bringing your hand to his lips.

The streets near the festival are packed full— kids are running ahead of frazzled parents, teenagers walk with sparklers already lit, there’s flags waving from porch railings. Eddie miraculously finds a parking spot two blocks away and manages to wedge the rover into it on the first try. He punches the air out of the open window and whoops so loud that a very confused couple walking past actually clap for him.

You roll your eyes but can’t help laughing as he leaps out and opens the back to free Alice from her car seat. She reaches for him immediately, and he lifts her high over his head before settling her on his hip.

“Alright, princess,” he grins, pointing toward the crowd of booths and rides and lights up ahead, “you get to lead the way. Daddy’s ready to blow some money on funnel cake and questionable fried meats.”

Alice, who has absolutely no idea what any of what he just said means, giggles and buries her face in his shoulder.

The festival is everything you expected it to be and even a little bit more— there were red, white, and blue, streamers strung between light poles, Happy Fourth of July banners flapping in the faint breeze, music playing from a loudspeaker that barely works at the edge of the grounds. The air smells like the hot dogs stands just a few feet away, sunscreen from the children running past, and powdered sugar from whatever fried treat anyone could get their hands on. Kids are darting in and out of lines, screaming as they chase each other with little paper flags.

Eddie keeps Alice on his hip while you walk beside him, and he narrates everything in a ridiculous sports announcer voice, just for her. “On the left, you’ll see… cotton candy as big as your whole body. And on the right… a ferris wheel that your mother will definitely make us ride even though I’m not emotionally prepared to be that high off the ground yet.”

You bump his shoulder, but a grin never leaves your face. “Stop it. You’re scaring her.”

“She’s not scared,” Eddie argues and rubs Alice’s back. “I’m scared. There’s a difference.”

Alice pipes up then, pointing at something across the field and shouting, “Ice keem!”

And Eddie gasps like she just solved everything wrong with your little excursion. “Oh my god. Yes. Ice cream. Genius, Tater. You’re too smart for your own good.” So he just beelines for the little stand at the edge of the park, where the smell of fresh waffle cones is enough to make your mouth water before you’ve even reached the line. It’s long— full of sticky kids and bone-weary parents— but Eddie stands there happily bouncing Alice on his hip and chatting to her the whole time. “Okay,” he says to her, crouching a little so their faces are level. “Big question. Are you getting chocolate or vanilla?”

She looks at him very seriously for a two-year-old, and then says, “Choc’late,” with a nod of her head.

“That’s my girl,” Eddie grins wide, then looks over at you. “What about you, Bats? Choc’late or vanilla? Or… the ever-controversial strawberry?”

You snort in response, “Chocolate. Obviously.”

He winks at you. “Smart. Knew I married you for a reason.”

When it’s finally your turn at the window, he orders three waffle cones, one chocolate for you, one chocolate for himself, and a tiny little chocolate one for Alice with rainbow sprinkles. You find a little patch of grass in the shade of a tree and sit down cross-legged with your back resting against the trunk, Eddie settles in the grass in front of you with Alice in his lap. She immediately grabs at her little cone and takes a big bite right off the top, smearing chocolate and rainbow sprinkles all over her chin in the process.

Eddie just laughs and grabs a napkin from the stack, but makes no actual effort to clean her up just yet. “Beautiful,” he declares, licking his own cone. “Absolutely beautiful. I have never been prouder of anyone in my life.”

You raise an eyebrow at him as you twist your own cone to keep your ice cream from melting down the side. “You say that every time she eats anything.”

“And every time, it’s true,” he insists. Then he tilts his head down to nuzzle her cheek, making her squeal with laughter. “You’re my little mess monster, huh?”

“Mess!” Alice chirps happily, holding up her sticky fingers for Eddie to see.

Eddie just grins at you, chocolate smudged at the corner of his mouth, and then he looks down at Alice again. “She’s perfect,” he mumbles when Alice isn’t paying any attention. “Look at her.”

You already are and your heart aches. Eddie has been the best father any partner could have asked for and now that it’s happening again— unbeknownst to him— you couldn’t wait to do this with him all over. He loves Alice more than he loves breathing. It’s so evident and you’re practically vibrating, holding in the news.  

By the time Alice finishes her tiny cone, there’s more ice cream on her cheeks, dress, and Eddie’s jeans than actually in her stomach, but neither of them seem to really care from where you’re sitting. Eddie, of course, makes a show of licking the last of the ice cream from his cone before eating the last bits of it in one bite. Then he sighs dramatically, leaning back on his hands in the grass. “You know,” he says to no one in particular, but it grabs your attention, “I feel like I could just die happy right now. Right here. Chocolate ice cream in my veins, two beautiful girls by my side. What else does a man need?”

You roll your eyes at him, but you’re smiling anyway. Alice pats his cheek with a sticky hand and then flops sideways over his lap, completely content.

“You need a clean shirt,” you chuckle softly, passing him one of the napkins you’d wisely hoarded earlier, knowing how your toddler would handle an ice cream cone.

He wipes at himself with exactly zero effectiveness and just laughs. “Bats, this is what fatherhood looks like. You don’t even own a clean shirt after you turn thirty. It’s a fact of life.”

You laugh and shake your head, and he grins at you like he won something— he did, your heart over and over again.

After a little while, you wander back through the festival together. Eddie’s carrying Alice in one arm and holding your hand with the other. There’s a band playing now on a little stage not too far from you. He lights up when he hears a cover of one of his songs. They don’t quite get the chords right but it still makes people dance. You let Eddie steer you towards the music, and before you can protest, he’s spun Alice around and started dancing right there in the grass.

She giggles wildly as he bounces her up and down, twirling her in little circles, her tiny rainbow sneakers kicking in the air. He sings along in an exaggerated voice, just like he would onstage, until she’s squealing with laughter. You cross your arms as you watch them, your heart climbing into your throat despite the ridiculousness of it. You are so in love. He looks over at you mid-spin and winks before he leans in to mock-whisper to Alice, “See that, princess? Mommy’s pretending she’s not impressed, but she can’t resist me.”

Alice claps her hands, nodding at him, like she agrees wholeheartedly.

By the time the band winds down, the sun is starting to sink lower behind the tree line, and the air’s finally starting to cool off. A soft pink-and-gold haze settles over everything around you, and more people begin drifting toward the big hill at the end of the park where everyone’s staking out spots for the fireworks. Eddie slings the folded blanket he’d fished out from under the seats of the rover over his shoulder and finds a place near the middle of the slope, where you can see the sky clearly but aren’t too crowded in by everyone else. He spreads it out and you sit down first, smoothing the blanket. He drops down beside you with Alice still curled up close against his chest, her thumb is in her mouth now and her eyes are already starting to look heavy.

“She’s not even gonna make it to the fireworks,” you whisper to Eddie, reaching out to tuck a strand of Alice’s curls back as your eyes soften. 

Eddie looks horrified that you’d even say that. “Blasphemy,” he whispers back. “She’s a Munson, baby. This child was born to stay up irresponsibly late and cheer at explosions.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing too loud, and he shifts so Alice is comfortably nestled in his lap, one arm wrapped securely around her as the first few booms sound off in the distance. When the first burst of color finally lights up the sky, Alice jerks her head up and gasps audibly at it, her little hand clutching Eddie’s shirt.

“Whoa,” he murmurs in her ear, brushing her curls back from her face. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Look at that, tater tot. You see that? That’s all for you.”

Her wide eyes stay fixed on the colors in the sky, another pop of gold and blue sparkling overhead.

“That’s for you too, Bats,” he adds with a sideways grin, glancing at you as his arm sneaks around your waist to pull you closer to him. 

You smile faintly and lean against his shoulder, watching him more than the fireworks. In the glow of each burst, he looks a little softer, his hair catching streaks of gold and red, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on Alice’s back. It feels like so much— all of it— that you don’t even bother fighting it anymore. So you shift closer to him, leaning in just enough to press a kiss on his jaw and mumble against his ear, quiet enough that only he can hear you as another burst of red lights up the sky. “I’m pregnant,”

For a second, he freezes. Nothing else registering in that shocked brain of his. Then he slowly turns his head to look at you with wide brown eyes, like he’s not exactly sure he heard you right. “What?” he’s startled and he lets out a disbelieving laugh.

You meet his gaze, your lips pulling into a shy little smile, and you nod. “Yes,” you whisper.

For the briefest moment, you swear his whole face goes slack and unreadable— then he cracks into this huge grin in almost an instant. “No way,” he breathes out.

You bite your lip, still smiling, and he shakes his head like he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. “Oh my god,” he mutters, pressing a kiss into your hair before pulling back to look at you again. You can tell how giddy and excited he is in just that one look. “You’re tryin’ to kill me, huh? You’re actually trying to kill me.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, and he leans his forehead against yours for a second, his free hand finding yours where it rests in the grass. Above you, the fireworks keep going— loud and bright and beautiful— and Alice eventually lets out a little yawn before laying her head back on his chest. But Eddie just sits there, holding her close and holding your hand even tighter, like he can’t believe how good the world feels tonight. Every so often he glances down at you and grins again, like the thought keeps hitting him fresh every single time. You and Alice and now another little Munson on the way.

And when the final, thunderous burst of gold lights up the sky and fades, he leans down, kisses your temple softly, and whispers, “We’re gonna need a bigger blanket.”

Gareth shows up around noon, unannounced but not completely unexpected. He’s at your house more often than not on Saturdays. Sometimes he’ll pop in during Eddie’s usual rush around the house and they’ll sit outside for a smoke and a laugh and he’ll end up staying through dinner. You heard that damn hummer pull up out front, followed by the usual slam of the door and his, “Alright, where’s Tater at?” before you even made it out of the kitchen. Now, just a few hours later, he’s sitting with his legs outstretched in a patch of grass not too far from the back porch steps with a plastic mixing bowl in his lap and mud streaked halfway up his arms.

Alice is in her tiny yellow rain boots and one of Eddie’s old Corroded Coffin shirts that hangs almost to the ground and standing beside him with a stick in her hand. “Stir gentle, Uncle Gaff,” she huffs and frowns.

“Gentle, huh?” Gareth echoes her request, doing his best to stay patient with her as he swirls the stick through the murky mixing bowl. “Like this?”

“Yeah,” she nods, pushing curls away from her face with little mud caked hands. “’Cause it’s potion! For Daddy’s hair.”

From the porch steps, Eddie snorts around the neck of a budweiser. “My hair doesn’t need a potion, baby. It’s magic all on its own.”

You glance over from where you’re sitting at the table, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “It’s frizzy all on its own, too.”

He rolls his eyes, twisting at the waist to look over his shoulder at you. “Bats! Really?! In front of our child?”

Alice glances between the two of you, confused only for a moment before the mud potion in her Uncle’s lap takes up her mind again. She looks at Gareth and giggles, “Daddy needs sparkles.”

Gareth snorts, pulling a small handful of gravel from the bucket (they’d gathered the contents from the driveway) beside them. “Alright then, sparkles it is.” He chuckles softly as he sprinkles the stones into the bowl. He gives a nod when Alice leans over his shoulder to look and inspect their concoction. “This’ll make the shiniest hair west of the Rockies, guaranteed.”

Eddie groans from his spot on the stairs, tipping the bottle back up to his lips, “If you dump that on me, Gareth, so help me—”

He’s cut off because it’s already too late. Alice scoops up a very wet handful of her mud and stones and drops it right in Eddie’s lap. “Potion!”

By the look on his face you’d think someone had killed his dog rather than drenched him in mud. “Gareth, you turned my best friend against me!”

Alice lets out a shriek of laughter as Gareth leans back on one arm and tries to wipe the mud from his jeans with his other hand. “It was your decision to make me her Godfather, man.” He lazily shrugs. “I’m just fulfilling my sacred duty of corrupting your offspring.”

Eddie sighs, placing his drink on the stair beside him before he stands and scoops Alice up in his arms. She squeals, kicking her muddy feet coating her, Eddie, and Gareth all in mud again. You can’t help but laugh, watching them spin together in the soft gray post-rain light. When Gareth finally stands, he brushes the grass from his knees and ass, and then glances at you as he shakes his head.

“You married a lunatic.” He mumbles, catching a glimpse of your husband now throwing a very happy daughter into the air before catching her again. 

You take a sip of your coffee, eyes trained on Eddie and Alice in the yard. “Yeeaaaah.”

The clouds start their assault again, just a little drizzle over the course of several minutes. It’s soft and cool and Eddie tilts his face up toward it. Alice giggles even louder than the hum of the rain. 

“See, Bats?!” He calls over, turning back to you with wet bangs now plastered to his forehead. “We’re making memories!”

You shake your head, smiling. You swear you fall more and more in love with him every day. “You’re making more laundry.”

He grins, bright even in the rain, “same thing, sweetheart.”