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Fic req. "Mister Pines... May I call you Dad... once?"

“You’ve done good, squirt! Sink’s not even leaking anymore. I missed this whole- uh- running water thing.” Mr. Pines beat out a circular path in the cramped and musty indoor bathroom. His eyes trailed over the mildew-stained walls, all the same poorly-lit sage green, and settled on his reflection in the cracked mirror. He gave the porcelain sink an appreciative pat. “I was getting sick of that outhouse.”

“Oh gosh...” Soos Ramirez, a chubby twelve year old with a squeaky voice, wrung his hands around a roll of silver duct tape. He looked in from the hallway as Mr. Pines inspected his work. “I just taped up the pieces leaking water all over.”

Mr. Pines waved the comment off. “Ah, I don’t care how ya did it. If it works it works. That’s my motto.” He turned on the tap and cupped his hands under the deluge of water. As it filled his palms, he splashed the water onto his face--glasses and all. “Now if I could just get the shower working, I’d be back to livin’ in luxury.”

Soos set one tentative foot on the bathroom tile. It was cold against his thin sock. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Eh, I dunno. The head’s all gunky. Water just kinda...oozes out of it.”

“My abuelita uses vinegar to clean the shower head at home,” Soos answered on bouncing toes. “She pours it into a baggie and wraps it around the head with a rubber band. I can do that too!”

Mr. Pines ran a hand over his gritty chin, eyes squinting. “Hmm, well it’s worth a shot. I’m trusting you on this, or trusting your...uh...your what again? Abwa-who?”

“Oh! She’s my grandma,” Soos answered, hands twisting around the duct tape. “She doesn’t really speak English, so she’s my abuelita.”

A sort of uneasiness settled over Mr. Pines’ face. He watched the kid’s twisting hands with discomfort. “Yeah well, stay there. I’m gonna go get the things.”

Soos flattened himself against the door frame as Mr. Pines passed. He watched as Mr. Pines disappeared down the hall before craning his neck into the bathroom. Tape falling to his side, he wandered inside. It smelled kind of like a wet dog, and the circular carpet squished against his socks. Soos set the duct tape down on the rim of the sink and set his hands to the bath tub’s edge.

He tilted his head skyward to the shower head. A bead of hard water had coalesced at the bottom rim. The holes in the nozzle were clogged by a thick coating of white-green sediment. The basin of the tub bore a similar ring of mineral stain.

Soos swung one leg over the tub’s edge. He stretched his pudgy fingers to the tap and twisted it was far as it would go. A steady trickle of water fell on his head. He flinched away in surprise, but a laugh quickly built in his throat as he realized what had happened. Leg back over the rim, he craned his neck again to watch the drizzle of well-damned water leak from the head.

His toes scrunched against his socks, which were still damp, and he set one foot to the tub’s edge. The next followed, and he hoisted himself up, arm pressed to the grimy wall for support. Soos reached his free hand out and swung it for the head. If he could reach it, even just with a swing, he could scratch off some of the residue and help Mr. Pines. Mr. Pines would see how great he was at this new job. He might even praise him again for--

With one over-exerted swing of his arm, Soos felt his wet foot loose its hold on the tub. It happened with a quick “swick” noise, and then everything was falling.

“Kid!”

Mr. Pines all but flung himself forward. The bottle of vinegar in his hand dropped to the floor and burst open, sloshing out in a slew of rhythmic glug-glugs. Soos’s descent stopped suddenly as two thick, calloused hands collided with his back. Then the falling started up again as Mr. Pines failed to stick his landing. The man crashed to his knees.

Soos blinked, mind reeling, registering only the pressure of Mr. Pines’ hands holding him up, keeping him safe, saving him from--

“What the heck were you doing?”

“I was...trying to reach the shower head.”

“You’re too short. Why didn’t you wait for me, huh?”

Soos didn’t answer this. He only bit down on his bottom lip as Mr. Pines’ set him down. He felt the trembling spread through his face, the tightness grab his throat. He’d messed up. He’d screwed it up.

“Hey--you’re not hurt, are you? Let me see. Did you hit something? Kid--”

“No,” Soos answered, strained. He squished his palms against his face to rub the tears away. “I’m fine. Really. I’m sorry.”

“Look, uh, do your parents know you’re here? Cuz if you get injured on my watch, I don’t want things to get police-y.”

“No... I mean I guess they don’t. I don’t really have parents.”

“Oh,” Stan answered flatly. The creeping unsettled look returned to his face. He looked to the left, pretending to busy himself in the leaking vinegar bottle. Still on his knees, he snatched the bottle and turned it upright.

“I’ve messed up...” Soos whispered into the floor.

This caught Mr. Pines’ attention. He turned, half-empty bottle in hand, and looked the kid up and down. “What? No. No, you know what--here. Let’s try this out.” He snatched up the fallen plastic bag and rubber band, stepping over the tub’s rim as he poured the remaining vinegar into the bag. Mr. Pines secured it over the shower head with a couple twists of the rubber band and stepped back to observe it.

“I’ll bet it’s working already,” he announced, though he kept his wary eyes on his young helper. “Your abwi--grandma is a genius. Who even needs parents when you’ve got someone like that at home?”

“You think?” Soos asked. He made a few more passes at drying his eyes, tone hopeful.

“Absolutely. Best idea I’ve heard all day. I’ll go out and buy a ton of those frilly girly soaps to celebrate having a shower again. You’ve done great, kid.”

“Thanks, Dad...” Soos’s eyes widened as soon as he uttered the word, neck snapping up to look at his confused employer. “I--I mean Mr. Pines. I messed it up.” Soos looked down and snatched up his duct tape. “I’ve just always thought about my dad telling me that stuff I guess...if he comes back I-I guess. Sorry.”

Mr. Pines moved a hand over his face and stared up at the shower head. Silence reigned, save for the steady blip of water droplets leaking into the tub. He shrugged at the shower head wall.

“Eh, you know when you’re someone like me, you get a lot of names. Mr. Pines. Mr. Mystery. Stan. ‘That jerk’...aha, don’t repeat that one though. You can call me whatever.” He folded his arms over his chest, eyes far from his new employee. “I know when people are talking to me. Who cares what word they use, ya know?”

The new tears that welled in Soos’s eyes were laced with happiness. He brushed them off and nodded vigorously. “Yeah. That’s true. You could call me ‘Master Agent Funtime Coolguy’ because I know when people are talking to me too.”

This time Mr. Pines’ eyes found him, laced with skepticism. “Yeah I’m not gonna do that. I was just making a point is all.” He rolled up his left sleeve to check the time on his watch. “You know what, kid? You should head home now. It’s late.”

Soos ran his tongue over his teeth, fingers spinning viciously over the tape again. “Oh...okay,” he answered, chest deflating. He’d pushed it. He knew he wasn’t Funtime Coolguy--

“But be back here by 10 am tomorrow. If you’re not here then I’m checking on the shower head without you.”

The twelve year old’s eyes brightened, and his buzzing fingers dropped the tape all together. “Oh sure thing Mr. Pines! I’ll for definitely be here.”

“Yup, looking forward to it,” Mr. Pines said with a nod. He gingerly stepped out of the tub and slipped past Soos. “In the meantime I got stuff to do. But first thing tomorrow morning...uh--”

“Soos.”

“Soos,” Mr. Pines repeated, and he turned down the hall toward the gift shop entrance.

Soos followed behind in his steps, wet sopping feet thwacking against the hardwood. “First thing tomorrow morning!” he called after his employer, and quietly, to himself, he added, “...Dad.”

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