#sprandy

Do you think they'd get along well with their unofficial aunts, Poppy and Viva?

Hmm... I think each of them have a favorite, and I think it is for the differing personalities I assume they have :)

Like, for example, his daughter who spoke about the government sounds a bit intellectual, so she and Clay would probably have some serious talks

Ketchup Kiddo probably doesn't think things through (a fault I headcanon John Dory has) which is probably why he ended up in the ketchup bottle in the first place. He and JD would get along.

Floyd would become a favorite since he'd probably spoil the kiddos with cookies and other treats. Branch would probably try his best in keeping them in line, but fail, since they'd easily rope him into their antics (particularly when they ask him to sing for them)

Poppy seemed pretty enthused discovering Bruce had kids in the first place, and encouraged the kids in getting hyped for their dad's performance, so I think they'll like her.

Summary: Bruce hears something unexpected on the True Crime podcast he listens to

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Beach days were always the best.

It gave his wife Brandy the ample time she needed for a little R n R. It gave their 13 kids the fun they craved, hitting the waves and splashing about in the warm Vacay Island waters. And it gave Bruce the opportunity to kick back, tan, and listen in on the next episode of his True Crime podcast.

His kids were well-behaved for the most part (save for Bruce Jr. and his biting problem, and perhaps Freddy with his desire to stuff his body into whatever little cramped spaces there were). But, with a quick reminder to mind their manners and beware of any rough waves, he knew that they were well off.

As he settled down on the towel, he could hear the faint sounds of his children laughing and splashing, their mother floating on a surfboard nearby and watching over them. Bruce then removed his vest, rubbed tanning oil on his body, donned sunglasses, popped on his earbuds and began to play the podcast. The narrator's mysterious voice began to speak, introducing the story.

“In tonight's episode of True Crime, discover a true story about betrayal, deception, and greed, and the defeat of two nefarious villains who were finally dethroned from their treacherously influential reign…”

Bruce was already intrigued. Ooo, this is gonna be a GOOD one. He could tell. He tucked his arms behind his head and got comfortable.

“When one is a troll, there is no better way to live your life to the fullest than with hugging, dancing, and of course, singing. But for one troll, these harmless activities become the paramount of his nightmare for the next two months.”

Bruce scrunched his nose, skeptical. Singing and dancing that led to, as the narrator described, a ‘nightmare’ situation? He had to hear the rest of this.

“You never expect this sort of thing to happen to you, you know?” a new voice said, which Bruce could presume was the victim of the unfortunate scenario. “I sure didn't. They seemed like a nice pair of siblings. I never suspected anything malicious. They saw my performance, enjoyed it, and asked for some tips to boost their own careers. We had some drinks and… and the next thing I remember is waking up in a diamond bottle.”

Yikes, Bruce thought, pitying the victim. He sounded like a nice guy, too, with the calm, serene tone his voice had. Trapped in such a cramped space for so long sounded awful.

“And you won't believe who those said siblings were,” the narrator continued. He was very right in that, too. Because as soon as the podcast began to play a sample of the hit single ‘Watch Me Work,’ Bruce’s jaw practically dropped on the floor.

No way…

“Yes way. You heard correctly. Criminals in this case are none other than superstar sensations Velvet and Veneer, from the bedazzling city of Mount Rageous. But following them now, is a not-so-bedazzling record. (And we don't mean the musical kind.)”

A new female voice began to list off charges. “Troll-napping, Troll torture, not to mention tax evasion. You won't believe how many yachts, bling, and exotic PETS they illegally bought!”

Even if Bruce could believe it, he was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around the initial news. Velvet and Veneer? The well-known household names that his kids - and himself for that matter - were fans of? Well, not anymore! Hearing such things that they did made him sick. Man… it’s gonna be hard separating the art from the artist.

“And today, just two months after the duo was turned in by their assistant, Crimp, they find that their names live on forever not in fame, but in INfamy,” the narrator said.

“Oh, I feel awful,” the distinct voice of Veneer said next. “I wanted nothing more than to be famous, and… Vel made me believe that it didn’t matter HOW we did it, as long as we DID it. Even… even if it meant KILLING a troll. It was real rough - I mean, sucking up his talent was easy enough, but we were literally sucking the LIFE out of him. His skin was turning pale - and, like, not in a stunning Victorian way, either - and that magenta hair of his was turning whiter and whiter by the minute…”

Magenta? Bruce wondered. He’d known a troll once with magenta hair. His own younger brother. Could it be…? No, it couldn’t… I mean, there’s PLENTY of Trolls that have magenta hair, don’t they?

“I didn’t say anything to Velvet though because, truly, I was too afraid to stand up to her. She’s my sister! My biggest inspiration… I didn’t wanna discourage her. But now, I see that what we did was wrong. Very, VERY wrong.”

Good, Bruce thought.

“But despite the change of heart, this Mount Rageon still has to serve at least another six months in juvenile imprisonment, alongside his sister,” the narrator said. “It comes as much relief to the now-free victim.”

“Jail can’t be fun,” the same serene voice from before admitted, “but I’m glad they’re serving their time. Everyone makes mistakes, and just like it’s important to learn from them, it’s also important to pay the repercussions for your actions.”

Well said, Bruce had to admit. He also had to admit something else.

That sounds a LOT like something Floyd would say…

And if his suspicions were not enough…

“While recovery has been successful for the troll and he has plans to return to singing, he still feels as though something is missing from his life…” the narrator continued.

“I was solo-ing around for quite a bit of time before I ran into Velvet and Veneer,” the Troll said. “But, really… I would LOVE if I could perform in the band I was in years ago… but, we kind of had a fight, and ever since that fight, we haven’t seen each other. If we could reunite - oh - that’d be a dream come true. It’s been too long.”

Bruce swallowed. Twenty years is a long time…

The next part was the real kicker, though.

“Until that day, 36-year-old Floyd still holds onto the hope that he will see his bandmembers - also known as the brothers who made up the band BroZone - someday,” the narrator said.

“John Dory, Clay, Branch, Spruce… if ANY of you are listening, I want you to know that I miss you. And I want us to be a family again…” the Troll - FLOYD - said.

Bruce’s thumb went to hit the pause button. He had to stop. This was a lot to process, all at once. He was flabbergasted. Bamboozled. Shocked. He broke down everything he had heard piece by piece, trying to make sense of it.

Velvet and Veneer were baddies.

They had taken Floyd.

His brother Floyd.

They’d used his talent.

They’d almost killed him.

He would’ve never had the option of seeing his brother again.

But now, he did.

“Daddy! Daddy!” one of his kids - Windy - was suddenly calling to him. “Bruce Jr. threw sand in my eye!”

“I said I was sorry!” Bruce Jr. protested.

“Only after Mom told you to!” LaBreezy pointed out.

“Did not!” Bruce Jr. countered.

“Did too!” Cove jumped into his sister’s defense.

“Well, Daddy, aren’t you gonna punish him??” Windy demanded to know. The way he saw it, it wouldn’t be fair to let him slide!

But the way Bruce saw it… well, he wasn’t seeing anything. His brain was still overloaded with what he’d learned.

Brandy had followed the kids, curiously noting her husband’s surprised expression. “Honey?” she questioned. “Are you all right?”

Bruce looked at her resolutely.

Sure thing! I like this ship, too :)

Meeting You (a Trolls fanfic)

Slowly, but surely, Spruce came back into consciousness.

He hadn’t quite remembered when he had been knocked out, and was still not in the right mindset to remember exactly how, either. His head was fuzzy, throbbing with a dull but persistent aching, and his whole body felt like someone had beaten him senseless. He willed himself to move, but was unable to find the energy to do so just yet. Everything seemed heavy, his muscles burning with soreness and protesting against anything that would require him to shift his position.

Suddenly, somewhere in his mind, he had a dreadful thought. Maybe I'm… dead.

But his conscience was adamant to not believe that. He couldn't be dead! The life he'd had was a short one, barely two decades worth of existence, and it would be unthinkable that it could end so soon. 

Straining to search for any sign that it wasn't true, Spruce honed in on his senses, trying to pick out anything indicative that he was not, perhaps, actually dead yet. It took a second, but soon he heard it - the sound of a voice, worried at that, and a little muffled, coming from nearby. And, as his hearing equalized back to its normal level of sharpness, he came to note that it was, in actuality, coming from right above him.

"Come on... wake up..."

He felt what seemed to be a large hand pressing down on his chest, pumping rhythmically up and down against his sternum.

"Come on," it came again, in a desperate whisper this time. The pumping continued and, with the building of pressure within him, Spruce felt a substance rise in his throat, salty and acidic, and finally a violent cough sputtered out of him. He gasped for air, hacking hard for a few moments before it finally subsided. Then, slowly, he forced open his heavy eyelids. His vision swam for a moment before focusing enough to make out the basic shapes composing a face. A tall, blurry, indistinct figure hovered over him, outlined by a stunning halo glow that, if possible, made him feel even more breathless than he already was. Hoarsely, he managed to find the ability to speak.

"Am... am I in heaven?"

A light, feminine laughter met him. "No... but I guess this place comes as a pretty close second."

This place? Spruce rubbed his eyes, blinked a few times to adjust to the harsh, bright lighting, and  squinted. Now that he could see clearer, he made out the powdery white sand underneath his body, and the thick jungle-like foliage some distance behind him. Blue waves crashed at a shoreline several yards away from where he lay, in the company of whom he presumed to have been his rescuer from whatever the accident was that he'd endured. She was not a Troll, that much was clear, but what creature she was, he couldn't say he had a clue. But, even with the intriguing felt texture of her skin, stringy yarned hair, and puppet-like features that devised her characteristics, there was still something awfully alluring about her.

She was staring down at him with large, dark eyes, her expression filled with concern. "I was worried I'd have to do CPR. Are you okay?" she asked.

Suddenly, even in his withered state, Spruce felt the need to turn up the charm. "Better, now that I'm with you," he purred seductively. Or, as seductively as he could. It was difficult to sound an ounce attractive when his voice sounded like it had been put through a meat grinder. Oh well. At least his abs would fill in where his words couldn't. He turned to lay fully on his back, so that the firm, pectoral muscles were very much visible, and continued. "But just to be sure, I wouldn't mind you performing some of that mouth-to-mouth." He winked and pursed his lips, waiting to see how she'd react.

There seemed to be a sparkling look in her eyes, like one of enchantment, and Spruce believed his captivating spell to be working... until she spoke.

"Hmm. I dunno, you seem pretty fine to me."

He took it in stride. "Oh, I am fine, baby. And so are you." Spruce smiled at her, and gave another quick wink. She laughed softly, rolling her eyes at him with obvious affection, and leaned over to gently pat him on the cheek. Spruce felt his insides flutter, though he remained outwardly cool. He didn't want to appear too eager - there was a certain method to his madness, after all.

A method, it seemed, that she wasn't going to so easily be played by.

"Nice try," she whispered, getting back up on her feet and starting to head off.

Spruce was surprised to see her go so quickly. "Wait! Miss, uhh... um..." He trailed off, not actually knowing what to call her.

"Brandy," she responded.

"Miss Brandy," he repeated smoothly, wondering if her lips tasted as subtly sweet as the drink that was her namesake, "you wouldn't just leave a gorgeous, hunk of man laying in the middle of the wilderness, would you?"

Brandy paused in her steps and turned to look back at him. She tilted her head and smirked. "Maybe," she said coyly, "if he was uninjured and more than capable of walking back to town after a few minutes of rest."

Shoot, Spruce groaned inwardly. While feeling a tad bit bruised from the rough waters that had tossed him in the first place, he sported no major traumas on his body. He'd be more than capable of doing what she'd said without so much as a problem. A tad exasperated that this was not going the way he'd wanted it to, Spruce sighed. "Come on, girl, I'm trying here!"

Brandy chuckled. "Well then, I guess you'll just have to try a little bit harder then, huh?"

Spruce watched her saunter towards the trees, a small grin stretching across his features as he remained mesmerized by the slight sway her hips made with every sashaying step she took. After a few moments, she called over her shoulder.

"You're welcome for saving your life, by the way!"

And with those parting words, she slipped into the treeline, leaving him alone to stammer one meager, lovestruck reply.

Summary: While attempting to explain the arrival of a new sibling, Bruce’s daughter's line of questioning stirs up some old memories, and reminds him of what is yet to be revealed to his wife

A/N: Taking place before TBT :)

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Art was not Bruce’s strongest suit.

Well, at least art in the pen-and-paper sense (or in this case, a stick and the sand underfoot from the beach). The only art that he had been good at creating was the kind that came out of his throat in a stunning, musical tune. It wasn't quite the same in the illustration department, though. Nevertheless, he tried his best at formulating the figures he was trying to depict. It wasn't for his sake that this drawing was being made. It was for the tall, giggling child who stood just behind him, snickering with each stroke he added to the creation.

"Daddy," she said, a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh, "is that supposed to be a dog?"

Bruce turned to look at her. Brenda was a cute little girl, resembling her mother much in appearance with her felt-like skin, striped body, and yarn-like hair. A little white flower adorned her hair just above the right ear, adding a little extra pizazz, though he had to crane his neck a little to actually see it well enough. Err… maybe NOT so little of a girl, he suddenly thought to himself, considering her actual size when next to him. Despite his daughter only being four years old, he was dwarfed greatly, though this was not unusual since she wasn't 100% Troll. Residents of Vacay Island were unique-looking creatures who were at least ten Trolls high and had thin arms and puppet-like features.

As a kid, Bruce had barely been able to depict a Troll in the silly doodles he’d made within the song-writing journal he had. So, trying to make an illustration of his Islander spouse and daughter’s special features was certainly not coming out the best, either.

"No, darling. That's supposed to be Mommy. See?" He pointed out the figure in the drawing who was supposed to be his wife, Brandy.

Brenda cocked her head, pondering, looking at it this way and that, and ultimately giggling again. "Oh, okay, Daddy," she said in a way that was meant to say "Suuuure, I'll believe that dog-looking blob is Mommy."

"Oh, yeah?" Bruce said, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes playfully at her. "I'd like to see you try your hand at it."

His daughter immediately stopped laughing. He expected her to meekly step back and allow him to finish, knowing her child-like drawing would probably bear even less resemblance to her mother, but he was surprised when she stood straight up, plucked the stick from his hands and bent down over the sand with a chirpy "Okay, Daddy!" in response. Bruce watched with amusement as she started to draw, but soon that amusement shifted to awe the more she added. By the end of it, Brenda had drawn not only her mother, but Bruce and herself… and it looked photographic!

"Whoa…" he said, unable to help his jaw dropping a little. "Not bad, kid… not bad at all!" He stretched up to ruffle her hair, and she laughed sweetly. The purple-haired smiled at her and pointed at the drawing. "This is our family, right?"

Brenda beamed, proud of her work, and nodded. "Yep!" she chirped.

He grinned and bent down with the stick again. "Well, sweetie, pretty soon it's gonna look like this." He drew a little figurine next to her mother’s, smaller than Brenda’s but still bigger than his. 

"Huh?" the girl was confused. "Who's that?" she asked, but instantly turned around and answered her own question with "Oooohh, Daddy! Are we getting a puppy?"

"What? No!" Bruce was unable to believe that his artistic vision didn't seem to be coming across the way he wanted once more.

"Awww…" Brenda slumped.

"But," he spoke up, patting her hand, "you're getting something even better.”

She gasped. "Oh! Really? What?"

"A baby brother," he responded, "or a sister."

Brenda blinked her large eyes. "Oh," she said after a minute, not so enthused. "Um… well, okay…"

"It’s nothing to be moping about," Bruce said. "Actually, it's something really, really cool!" He spoke animatedly, and Brenda gained curiosity.

"Yeah?"

"The coolest," he assured. "Why, a brother - or a sister - is like a friend who's always gonna be with you. You guys can play and sing and dance - "

"And hug?" Brenda asked, tucking her hands under her chin.

"Yep, and hug!" he replied, tickling the girl at her sides and making her giggle. "And the best part is, you guys will make lots of great fun memories together that you'll keep with you forever."

"And ever?" she chirped.

"And ever.”

"And ever and ever and ever and ever and - !"

"Brenda," the Troll said with warning. She went on keeping that up, there'd be no more cookies before bedtime!

"Heehee, sorry, Daddy," the girl mumbled, shuffling her foot in the sand. In peering down at the drawing again, his daughter’s face lit up. "Wow," she murmured. "Where's he now?" she asked, and then added, "or she."

"In Mommy's belly," Bruce explained.

Brenda was surprised to hear this. "What?" She crossed her arms. "Doesn't Mommy know that we're not on the menu!" she demanded to know.

"Of course Mommy knows.”

"Huh," she said, "then how did the baby get in there?"

Bruce’s eyes bulged. "Uhh…" His face grew warm upon remembering exactly how, but that was not something to be discussed with the young girl. Luckily, Brenda decided she didn't care all that much to know, and piped up with another question in her curious mind.

“Hey, Daddy, everybody has a family, right?”

“Um, yes! Yes, they do,” he answered, grateful for the change in subject.

“So that means you have a Mommy and Daddy too, right?”

“You got that right, kid.”

Brenda nodded, and then shot right out with another question. “Daddy, do you have any brothers?”

She sure IS smart, Bruce thought, a feeling of pride washing over him. Maybe a little TOO smart, he then thought, apprehensively. This conversation was now going in the direction that he hoped it hadn’t. His mind blanked out a second as the recollection of four Trollings came into his thoughts and brought a pang of sadness with it. He didn’t want to answer no, but he didn’t exactly want to go on admitting that he did have brothers, for he knew his daughter would certainly flock him with questions that would require him to reveal much about his boyband past. So, instead, he stuttered an “I… I-I don’t know…”

“What?” Brenda was appalled by his answer. “Daddy, how could you not know if you have a brother?”

“Hey, you know what I do know?” Bruce said, making sure his tone remained as chill as he was hoping it was sounding. “That it is time for bedtime!”

The girl giggled. “Don’t be silly, Daddy, I’m not tired.” But her statement instantly became null and void when she opened her little mouth and let out a big yawn.

The Troll let out a sigh of relief. Whew, what a save! In reality, it was difficult to tell when exactly it was bedtime. The sun on Vacay Island never set. But, in time, he had gotten used to keeping track of the hours in the day. And for his daughter it really was time to hit the hay. “Come on,” he cooed, grabbing her hand and guiding her back indoors and back to her bedroom. Bruce helped in tucking her in, pulling the blanket over her and kissing her forehead.

“Sweet dreams, Bren,” he said.

Brenda yawned again, and sleepily smiled up at him. “G’night, Daddy…” It was only a minute later that she was snoring contently.

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Give it up, Bruce, a voice in the back of his head chimed. They’re already shiny enough.

It was true. There was no need to grab any more globs of the goopy wax and apply it to his collection of surfboards. They were already ready to go, to be grabbed at a moment’s notice and go sailing the waves like he loved to do in the evenings. But Bruce couldn’t help it. The motion of running his hands over the board, of being able to be occupied with something to do was soothing to his nerves. And he had to soothe himself for sure, after the memories of that awful night returned to him.

It’s your fault! the voice in his brain annoyingly shouted. You were the first to quit!

He grabbed more wax and rubbed harder on the board, trying to push away the guilt. No, it wasn’t my fault… not COMPLETELY. Perhaps he had set off the chain reaction. He had known he was a big influence on Clay, so it was no surprise that the yellow-haired Troll had immediately called it quits not too long after Bruce had ripped his purple vest in two. But then he thought about why he and Clay had been so allied.

It’s because of John Dory…

If JD hadn’t gotten on both their nerves, the breakup could have been avoided.

Yeah, that’s right… it’s HIS fault!

But then he sighed. No… it’s not completely. Even though he wanted to pin the blame, he couldn’t. They all could’ve worked things out. But the reality was, they hadn’t.

“Bruce?”

He perked, turning to the sound of the voice. It was that of his wife. His very tall wife. If Brenda was already making him look small, that was nothing compared to Brandy. But they made things work out. Somehow… but they did! Otherwise, Brenda and her sibling wouldn’t exist. 

Brandy peered down at Bruce, her gaze almost knowing.

“Bruce,” she repeated gently, a hand subconsciously reaching up and rubbing a hand against her swollen belly. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Bruce huffed, getting back to his work. “Nothing’s wrong. What makes you think something is wrong?"

“Because you’re waxing down the surfboards,” she stated, as though it were obvious.

Bruce paused mid-swipe. Once again, it was proven that she was his soulmate. She knew him the best out of any girl he’d been with in the past. She’d figure him out in one way or another. There were no secrets between them, as he sought it should be between a husband and wife. No secrets except one. But he would tell her in time.

But… is NOW the time?

“Brucie, tell me what’s the matter,” she insisted. She crouched down, tracing a finger down through his long, flowing purple hair.

“It’s nothing, really,” he said, trying to brush the subject off. But Brandy wasn’t having it.

“Is it about Brenda?” she guessed. She’d known that he had gone to talk to her about the new baby.

“Ehh… sort of…”

Suddenly Brandy narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t have ‘the talk’ with her yet, did you? I told you to save that for when she was older!”

Bruce put his hands up. “No, no! No talk, don’t worry, my love. All I did was tell her about the family. And yeah, she had some questions, that I answered the best I could…” All except that last question, he added silently.

Brandy eyed him a second, and then understanding seemed to flood her eyes. “Ohh, I get what this is about,” she said.

The purple-haired Troll held back a gasp. “Y-you do?” No, she couldn’t possibly know, could she? He was thrilled to know that nobody on Vacay Island had known about his true identity upon his first arrival, and he’d made sure to keep it that way for many years.

Brandy nodded. “Yeah.” Then she smiled. “You’re worried about being a Dad again, aren’t you?”

Bruce relaxed. “Ahhh, yes. You got me there, honey.” He tried to laugh, but it came out nervous-sounding and uncertain.

“Aw, Bruce,” she cooed, scooping him in closer to her. “I know it can be a little scary, but hey… you’ve been doing a great job with Brenda.”

“You mean we,” he said, winking at her, “don’t jip yourself the credit, baby.”

She grinned, leaning down to peck his cheek. “And I can assure you that there’s nothing to worry about this time around. Okay?”

He gave her one nod. Bruce was a little unnerved about adding another kiddo to their family, but he felt even more unnerved in hiding the full truth from her. His gaze drifted to her belly, enlarged with the few months’ pregnancy. “Hey, kid,” he whispered softly, reaching a hand out to caress the bump. “We’ll be meeting each other pretty soon. How’s it popping in there?”

To his delight, he felt a kick in response and had to chuckle. “Yeah, I’m excited about seeing you, too. You’re gonna love our home. And your Mommy,” he said looking up at Brandy fondly.  She was a wonderful mother, the best kind there was. And while they were both still fairly young parents, they found out that they were naturals.

"All right, it's about time we head in for the night. You coming? Or would you rather finish up here?" she asked amusedly.

He smirked. "Nah, I'm done. Thanks."

"Don't mention it, sweetie," Brandy replied, giving him one more kiss before grabbing him and heading for the bedroom. 

As the door closed behind them and she pulled the sheets back, he flopped onto the bed, lying flat. To him, their bed was as big as the ocean, given that he was so much smaller than she. For her, it was just right. Just like their daughter, she fell asleep quickly, understandably so with how the growing life in her belly was making her energy drain quicker throughout the day. Bruce had a bit harder of a time falling asleep though, still fretting over his inability to just admit it to her already.

I will tell her, he told himself. When the time is right. I promise, Brandy...

Bruce looked over at his wife, his heart full.

I promise.

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Summary: Bruce and Brandy made it work for the first time - but how do they feel about it?

A/N: Hope nobody minds some incoming Sprandy 💜 Based on idea by @chipmunkfanno1love :) **Rated M**

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When all had been passionately said, and all had been just as passionately done, Bruce leaned back comfortably against the expansive bed, wiping the sweat that had perspired upon his forehead as he caught his breath and reeled down from the pleasurable high.

In a word, that was different. Real different, and that was to say in the least. But different sure as hair didn’t mean it was bad. Oh, no, no. Bruce could beg to differ on that, if the ethereal bliss which still filled him with a warm, honeyed glow was anything to go by.

Next to him, his beloved was in very much a similar state. Basking in the aftermath of the intimate experience, Brandy sighed contently, reaching for the Troll to cuddle him close to her body, a hand running through the silky smooth locks of rich purple hair. He leaned into her touch with a hum, a breathless pant still in his voice as he whispered at her.

“Wow, I didn't think we'd ever be able to do that…”

To a degree, the statement was true. When it came down to it, he was a Troll, miniature in size when compared to his very tall newly wedded wife. And there hadn’t been a doubt on his mind that their first time together would be an awkward one.

Scratch that… VERY awkward, Bruce recalled, thinking about how he’d had to maneuver and experiment in ways that thought had to be put into. But, what mattered in the end was that he delivered. And, with the satisfaction displayed on Brandy’s face, it was obvious that he most certainly had done so quite well.

When she gave a tired little shrug, he smirked and continued. “... but once again, Brandy, honey, you proved me wrong…”

She chuckled at the deeper meaning behind the words. She’d certainly proved him wrong before, when his attempts to woo her early on in their courtship didn’t win her over as quickly as he’d believed it was going to. Brandy giggled, caressing his cheek. "I guess so. You proved me wrong too, Bruce…” Suddenly, she felt her fears at the start of that night were silly. Things had come together just fine. Better than fine, and she wished she would’ve been placated sooner by her husband’s reassurances at the start of it. “Oh, baby, I’m glad you did,” she cooed sweetly.

“Me too,” he chuckled, gazing lovingly into her eyes. He followed up by leaning in, capturing her lips with his own in a kiss that was slow and languid, conveying more love than any verbal declaration could. But even so...

"I love you," Bruce breathed, nuzzling against her, "so much."

Yeah, I can see that happening, probably plan something big like in the Madly Madagascar Valentine special where Melman was trying to make that large parade float for Gloria.