SSRP: Brodair: The Talk.

[ArianaBlack]

2099 London, England
A small, two-bedroom flat in the city that they can only barely afford.


No, not THAT talk. They were proper adults now. With JOBS. And a KID. They knew how anatomy worked. They had a KID. A very beautiful kid who was far too intelligent and mischievous for her own good, all traits which she had obviously inherited from her mother. There would be many talks taking place in this shoebox-sized flat, hence the thread title. Just not THAT talk because Amelia Rowan Adair was only 11 months old and it was far too early to traumatize her for life. And Zander Adair would not be the one to do it, surely.

Currently, it was a casual Sunday morning. Birds were chirping. Mia was screaming. Duck was—

QUACK!______________... That.

And Zander Adair was preparing breakfast. Chocolate chip waffles, with a dollop of whip cream. It was a Sunday morning tradition.

Quote:

Characters:
Sophie Brown played by feeheeheeny
Zander Adair played by ArianaBlack
Duck!! played by whoever is feeling the quack

[feeheeheeny]

The best part of this Sunday morning tradition was, as far as Sophie Brown was concerned, SLEEPING IN. It wasn't for more than an hour than normal, but it was enough that she always joined them in the kitchen appearing far more cheerful than she did any other morning. Once upon a time, she was a morning person, but since birthing a real human child, she didn't feel like much of a person at all. More like a zombie. Really, that extra hour of sleep wasn't much, but it was a real morale-booster⁠— and maybe the fact that she knew Zander was getting food ready for her immediate consumption as soon as she woke up played a part in it, too. Maybe a little. Or a lot. Okay, so food was the primary motivator of her entire life, what about it?

All things considered, the commotion coming from the kitchen wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Mia babbled and cried and Duck responded to Mia's chatter in duck-ese. Completely normal happenings. They simply had a fussy baby when she was hungry (and a fussy duck when the baby was fussy). Mia took after her mum that way.

Soph stirred from her slumber at the smell of waffles. It was like clockwork: Zander tended to Mia, he got breakfast started, then the scent of her next meal was her unfailing alarm clock. Her legs carried her from her bed before her brain fully processed reality, causing her to stumble over her haphazardly-tossed aside clothes from the night before. An oversized black jumper and dark grey leggings were this morning's outfit of choice - they were the easiest to just throw on - and after a fleeting look in the mirror, she headed to the kitchen.

"Hey cutie," came her hoarse-from-drowsiness greeting, her fingers combing through her choppy, shoulder-length hair in a halfhearted attempt to smooth down her bedhead before scooping Mia up into her arms and shuffling over to stand beside Zander. "That's you, by the way. You're the cutie," she told him, gently resting her cheek against his bicep and trying to block tiny baby hands from grabbing at him as he cooked.

[ArianaBlack]

Perhaps that's why he kept the tradition going. Because every Sunday, Sophie Brown made her way into the kitchen with a little more than the usual light in her eyes. Because he knew that despite sharing the responsibilities of raising a child, being a mother took a far greater toll on a person. It was a different kind of exhaustion than he felt, he knew that. He'd sacrifice all the sleep in the world if it meant he could even give her a fraction of the thanks he felt for the beautiful gift she had given them.

As Zander finished cutting up the fruit he had bought from the local market the day prior, he looked back and smiled at their babbling child and quack-happy duck, knowing that Sophie would be making her way to the kitchen in a few short minutes. And as if it were clockwork, he heard her footsteps just as he began dolloping the whipped cream onto the waffles. Her raspy, morning voice was enough to keep him energized for days. And he had the privilege of hearing it every morning. It was a dream come true, honestly. "Good morning," he turned to smile at her fondly, before taking two of the plates in hand. "Just in time for breakfast." She always was.

He turned his body to face his two favorite girls (and Duck, who was waddling around both of them), and paused before moving to set the plates on the table. He was the luckiest man in the world. It was a little family. And between all of the quacking, the babbling, and the crying... It was often dysfunctional. But it was theirs.

Their little, dysfunctional family. And it was perfect.

He smiled at all three of them, as if this was the first Sunday morning they had ever experienced together, and nodded at the table. "C'mon, let's eat." He carried the final few plates over.