Title:  Lullaby (1/1)

Fandom: LAS

Pairing: None

Rating: G

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. Written for the Laverne and Shirley holiday fic exchange.

Warnings: I’m listening to “Electric Barbarella” and I like it.

The small, worn out room was cozy, only lit by the lights twinkling on the lopsided Christmas tree that blocked a window and made getting to the kitchen an adventure.  Three drained glasses of milk and a plate with only a few cookies left on it sat on the coffee table.

Squiggy was asleep in his recliner that didn’t quite recline much anymore, his head lolled to one side, an occasionally loud snore escaping him.  Punky was lying on the couch, legs scrunched up a little so Lenny had room at the end of it to sit and strum his guitar.

He played a few carols for seven-year old Punky, who softly sang along, not always getting the words right.

“When did you learn to play the guitar, Uncle Lenny?” Punky asked after he finished a melodic version of “Jingle Bells”.

“A long time ago. Way before you were born.  Me and your dad were in a band once,” Lenny said, plucking the strings randomly but with rhythm.

“Really?” Punky craned her neck to take a look at her sleeping father. “His neck’s gonna hurt tomorrow if he keeps sleeping like that.  We better wake him when Santa gets here.”

Lenny laughed.

Punky relaxed and looked at Lenny again.

“So you were really in a band?” she asked.

“Yep.  Lenny and the Squiggones.” Punky giggled. “Hey, we were good! Okay, the name might not have been the greatest but it worked. It was fun.  We played at all the hot bowling alleys and pizza places and bars.”

“Didja ever go on tour?”

“Oh sure.  We went all over the state, playing and such.”  Lenny stopped plucking and started strumming chords. “It was hectic for awhile.”

“Did you have lots of fans?” Punky asked, grinning.

“We had lots of fans and lots of ladies wanting to kiss us,” Lenny said and made a kissy face at her.

Punky’s “ew” turned into a nasally laugh and she playfully kicked him.  Lenny somehow managed to balance the guitar on his lap while he grabbed Punky’s right ankle and tickled the bottom of her foot. She squirmed and laughed, mindful not to hit the guitar.

“Stop! Stop! Uncle!” Punky finally cried. 

Squiggy stirred in his chair, snorting, and letting his head loll to the other side. Satisfied with the surrender, Lenny let her go.

He went back to strumming his guitar.

“It was a lot of fun,” he said quietly.

“Why did you quit?” Punky asked.  “Maybe you could have been on t-shirts and stuff.”

Lenny shrugged.  The tune he played was old and familiar, the first song he had written after a long dry spell that ended some seven years ago.

“Things change, times change, people change,” Lenny said, watching Punky as he played. She yawned. “Maybe we coulda been big. Maybe we’d be rich right now and you’d be having a nanny read you stories and stuff. Or maybe it was good enough at the time and when it was done being good enough, we moved on to other things.”

Punky nodded, though Lenny knew she didn’t fully understand, her eyelids drooping sleepily. Lenny smiled.

“Now I like playing for an audience of one better,” he said.  “Or maybe two.  But no more than we can fit on a couch.”

Punky’s eyes drifted closed.  Lenny stopped talking, but kept playing. Seven years gone and Punky still fell asleep at the exact same spot in the lullaby he had written for her after she was born.

The last chords of the song echoed in the quiet room and Lenny sat there, soaking in the warmth and the contentment, the soft breathing from Punky and the occasional snort from Squiggy. It was a moment he wished he could bottle and drink from whenever he was feeling low.

When Punky had bee still long enough, Lenny carefully got up from the couch, setting his guitar to the side. He pulled the old quilt from the back of it and covered up Punky. She slept on, not a twitch, not even a hitch in her breathing. Punky was the soundest sleeper Lenny had ever seen.

He went over to Squiggy and gently shook his shoulder. He came awake with a grunt and a snort and blinked up at Lenny.

“What? What’s going on?” he asked and then winced as he turned his head.

Lenny pointed to Punky sleeping on the couch. Squiggy struggled against his own sleepiness and got to his feet.

“I thought she was going to wait up for Santa,” Squiggy said. He shook his head. “She just can’t outlast her old Dad.”

Lenny chuckled. “You’ve been snoring for three hours.”

“I was just lulling her into thinking I was asleep,” Squiggy said.  He gave Lenny a light shove and smiled.  “You go get the presents out of the closet. I’ll fill her stocking.”

Lenny headed for the closet. He stopped in the hallway and turned around in time to see Squiggy kiss his daughter lightly on the forehead before walking over to fill her stocking.

Lenny smiled and bottled the memory in his mind.