Fandom: LAS

Pairing: OC/OC, mention of Lenny/Amy

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don't own it. I don't make money off of it. I just use it to make other people happy. Suing me will only get you action figures.

Notes: Part of the Dad Universe.

Warnings: The human brain doesn’t finish forming until the age of 25.

The apartment had been cleaned within an inch of its poor, overused life. Everything smelled like either pine or lemons. The linoleum gleamed as only cracked, worn linoleum can. The kitchen sink was the cleanest it had been since the early 70’s. The brown shag carpet had been shampooed to a lighter shade of brown.  The entire bathroom had been bleached and smelled like an over-chlorinated pool.  The furniture had been dusted, banged up woodwork wiped down, even beds had been made, even though no one was likely going to go into the bedrooms. A tray of vegetables and dip lay on the scratched surface of the coffee table. Four people sat around it, leaving it untouched as they stared at the clock.

“Do you think her flight was late?” Shirley asked.

“Probably,” Laverne said, giving into nerves and snagging a carrot stick off of the tray. She munched on it loudly. “Maybe she had trouble getting a cab. I imagine things are busier since school’s out and all. People going places.”

“Goin’ out, not comin’ in,” Lenny said. He followed Laverne’s lead, taking a celery stick off the tray and finishing it in two bites. “She should have just let us pick her up.”

“You know how Punky is,” Squiggy said. He fiddled with his cane. “She doesn’t like to be any trouble.”

“She’s never been any trouble,” Lenny said, taking another stick of celery from the platter. “She’s always been a real good girl.”

“Except during bath time,” Squiggy said, a remembering smile flickering across his lips. He looked at Lenny. “Don’t go eatin’ all that stuff. We gotta save something for Punky and her…” he ground out the next word, “boyfriend. How would it look if she brought the boy home to a half-eaten plate of food?”

“Like home,” Laverne said, a smile in her voice but not on her face.

“I don’t know why everyone’s so nervous,” Shirley said. She neatly picked up a piece of green pepper and dragged it daintily through the dip. “You’ve done this sort of thing before.”

Lenny snorted. “Once before. Punky’s never bothered to bring any other guy home after Jack.”

“Who’s Jack?” Laverne asked.

“The first and only boyfriend Punky ever brought home,” Squiggy said.

Now he took a carrot off of the platter, chewing furiously to release some nervous energy.

“Surely a girl like Punky has had more boyfriends that just one,” Shirley said.

“Sure she has,” Lenny said.  “Jack’s just the only one she ever brought home.”

“Why?” Shirley asked, demurely taking a bite of a dip laden piece of pepper.

“Punky probably didn’t want to do it again after what happened with Jack,” Lenny said.

“What happened with Jack?” asked Laverne and Shirley in angel-choir harmony.

“We don’t talk about Jack,” Squiggy said, looking as though he was trying to burrow deeper into his favorite recliner.

Loudly silent minutes ticked by.

Punky had been dating her new beau since the beginning of the previous school year. She had even opted to spend Spring Break with him and his family instead of coming home. Now she was bringing him home for a week of their summer vacation so he could spend time with hers.

His name was Holland McKie and he was a sophomore like Punky. She had gushed about him over the phone to her father on several occasions. He was smart. He was handsome. He was funny. He was sweet. He wanted to be a pilot. And he was rich.

In short, Holland was everything Squiggy could have hoped for his daughter to have in a man and nothing he ever was and that laid an insulation of jealously on the lining of his stomach. A conflict that bubbled in him and gave him heartburn of more than one kind.

If anyone had been talking, Squiggy hadn’t heard any of it. What he heard was the front door banging open and a nasally, high-pitched “hello” emanate from the vicinity of it.

Everyone but Squiggy jumped to their feet as though they’d been stung by a whoopee cushion straight out of Sing Sing and ran for the door. Squiggy slowly pulled himself to his feet, steadying himself with his cane. It was a good day for him, MS-wise, but he felt the need to move slowly.

He could only hope Punky felt the same.

A human ball of chatter maneuvered into the living room where Squiggy stood. Punky broke from them and rushed over to her father, crushing him in a hug. Squiggy smiled as she interrogated him about his health, easily answering all of the questions he’d heard from her hundreds of times before.

Then she introduced him to Holland and Squiggy’s smiled threatened to fall into a frown. Holland was just as good looking as Punky had claimed, tall and lean with dark hair and eyes and clothes that Squiggy probably would have had to save up every paycheck for six months from Shotz Brewery to own. He wanted to frown, to say something clever and mean, but Punky stood next to Holland, expectant and beaming. So instead he smiled.

The evening was spent eating and talking, everyone just trying to get to know Holland. Everyone but Squiggy seemed enamored with him. Holland was charming and friendly. He told stories with elegance and ease and didn’t once seem discomforted with his surroundings. Sitting next to Punky on the couch with his arm around her, Holland looked at her often, but seemed genuinely interested in Lenny, Shirley, and Laverne’s stories of Milwaukee past. Squiggy contributed little to the conversation. Studying Holland was taking most of his concentration.

And then Squiggy saw it, the glimmer than blew away his black cloud. Punky was telling a funny story that had happened in her English class and Holland was looking at her, a slight smile on his lips, and Squiggy saw it, a glimmer in Holland’s eye as he looked at Squiggy’s daughter.

It made Squiggy sit up in his chair a little straighter.

He’d seen that glimmer before, years before. He saw it every time Lenny had looked at Amy. And now he saw it again as Holland looked at Punky. Squiggy hadn’t imagined it. It was there.

When Punky finished her story, everyone, including Squiggy laughed. Holland’s laugh, however, was a loud, braying sound with a bass pitch that shook the windows.

Squiggy sat back in his chair.

He liked Holland.