wip weekend
finally got some non-spoilery process done on pothos so I'm cashing in the tags I acquired during the past week or so from @owlgirl495, @chimneyz, @trombonechurchill, @bidisasterevankinard and @leashybebes. thank you! np tagging you all right back, as well as @rcmclachlan, @epiphainie, @sugarpenchant, @geddyqueer, @screamlet and anyone else who wants to play.
have some pothos | pathos. precedes this.
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Buck is dubiously eyeing the heap of dough on his counter, appropriately floured and ready to be kneaded into submission, when his phone rings.
He considers ignoring it. Considers jumping straight back into his latest ancient grain rabbit hole, filling his mind with all the proclaimed health benefits of the barley, millet, organic wheat and poppy seeds he’d splurged on at the new health food store that had just opened up and, more importantly, where they didn’t know him yet. The whole reason for all of this was so he didn’t have to think about his phone and the unanswered text messages and the very very enticing call button right by Tommy’s name, but, well. Maybe it’s important. Maybe someone needs him, and. That’s a distraction too, isn’t it?
It’s Maddie, and sure, she needs him, but not right now, so the interruption still kind of sucks. On the other hand, she’s calling to ask if he can watch Jee on Saturday so Maddie and Chimney can go to some dispatcher’s wedding party, and he’ll never say no to some Uncle Buck time.
“Yeah, of course,” he says. “What time do you need me there?”
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Saturday rolls around and Buck isn’t sure the ancient grain loaf has been doing much for him at all besides being kind of gritty, but at least he gets to feel sort of healthy about it. The downside is he keeps thinking of Tommy’s sarcastic, “Mm-hm, and what sources does this– Foodie Blogger Brenda– have?” whenever he thinks maybe the, uh, barley or whatever is really doing good things for his… brain? Gut health? He isn’t sure anymore.
He does check, eventually. Foodie Blogger Brenda does not cite sources. He does find a paper on the health benefits of barley - something about beta-glucans and antioxidant gamma-tocopherols - which sound really impressive when he skims the abstract and decides that’s enough for now. He’d keep reading, probably, because he knows it’s important to get the bigger picture and also to see if the study seems trustworthy but, well, it’s really long and he has to get going. Maybe he’ll read up later when Jee’s in bed. Maybe he should bring the poppy seeds to bake some muffins he can leave for Maddie, Chimney and Jee-yun to have for breakfast? Wait, can toddlers have poppy seeds? They’re sort of drugs, right?
Shit, can he have poppy seeds or will that cause issues on a surprise LAFD drug test? Has he been going to work with drugs in his system because of ancient gut health grains?
He really has to leave or he’s going to be late. He fumbles for a pen in his kitchen drawer, hastily scribbles a DRU- on the back of his hand before he thinks the better of showing up to babysit his niece with the word DRUGS on his person, knocks the drawer closed with a slightly-too-hard shift of his hips, pats for his phone-wallet-keys, remembers he still has an apron on and hastily unties it, and finally gets himself out the door two minutes later with shoes half-laced.
Whichever deity determines LA traffic – or maybe it’s the power of the ancient grains? – must be in a good mood, because he makes it to Maddie’s only two minutes later than agreed. Chimney is still bouncing Jee on his hip while he precariously balances on one foot, trying to get the other into a dress shoe, when Maddie opens the door for him.
She takes one look at him, at the flour stains on his sweat pants that he hadn’t noticed until he was stopped at a red light, and hits him with a fond sigh-smile combo. He’ll take it over ‘worried’ any day.
“So, we’ll be back at ten,” Chimney says, now hopping sans-Jee to actually properly get his shoes on.
“Eleven,” Maddie corrects him, glancing up at Buck with a pleading look.
“Yeah, of course,” Buck quickly agrees. “Stay as long as you like. I can always crash on the couch.”
“Thanks, Buck,” Chimney, suddenly looking reasonably put-together and on his way out the door, tells him with a pat on his back. “Though I doubt my beautiful wife will stay awake that long.”
“Says the guy who fell asleep reading Jee-yun her bedtime story yesterday,” Maddie says, eyes twinkling. Chimney grins at her, and it’s so fond and Buck is so happy for them and it still hurts in a stupid way.
“Wait–” he remembers when Maddie already has a hand on the car door. “Can Jee have poppy seeds?”
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“Alright, what are we gonna do with all this freedom, huh, Jee?” Buck says, keeping out a steadying hand as she clambers onto the back of the couch so she can grab onto his shoulders and swing onto his back, shriek-giggling right into his ear. “We could… make cookies?” he suggests, wincing when she bangs into him with the force of her headshake. “Is that a no to cookies, or a no to baking?”
“Yes cookies! No baking,” she declares, and Buck can’t help but wonder if he’s accidentally traumatized her into a lifelong dislike for baking. Chim has assured him her interests change every other day, but he’s not so sure. What if his own coping mechanisms screwed her up for life? At least she still likes cookies. She could always draw while he does the baking.
He’s about to suggest that when she shakes her bony little wrist in his periphery and declares she wants to make bracelets, so to the craft box they go.
He’d kind of forgotten about it until he sees it again, the bracelet making set tucked into the side of Jee’s craft box. It’s clearly been used before – the beads in the see-through plastic just a little jumbled up in places – but there’s still a sticky note on top. For princess Jee-yun, in Tommy’s familiar scribble.
“You, uh, want these?” he asks her over his shoulder, holding up the box.
Instead of an answer he hears the tell-tale sound of hundreds of beads of assorted sizes spilling out of a not-quite-securely-closed container, followed closely by a squeak of alarm from Jee that quickly melts into giggles.
“Shit– uh, I mean, uh-oh,” he says, and is rewarded with even more giggles. “Don’t say that first word, okay?”
Jee shakes her head, presses a conspiratorial finger to her lips, and then says, slowly and with emphasis, “Shit.”
He rubs at his eyes, lets himself sink fully onto the floor. “Yeah, that’s… Yeah. Just, don’t tell your parents, okay?” He starts picking up beads, one by one. Considers the logistics for a moment. Gets up to grab a bowl, and dumps the beads he’s gathered up so far into it. “Okay. So– I just thought of a fun little game. You, uh, you like colors, right?”
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The bad news is, it looks like Chimney and Maddie have an ant problem. The good news is that Buck’s got nearly all of the beads picked off the floor and, with Jee’s help, mostly sorted back into their different colors. Jee got bored of the sorting after a little while and instead opted to sit down next to him to start stringing assorted beads together which suits him just fine, because she grabs beads from the unsorted pile and that means less work for him. Besides, the floor isn’t too uncomfortable and Jee seems happy enough. As far as his evenings go these days, it’s pretty nice.
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+ tag list under the cut ↓