fic: girlfriends and detective agencies
characters: Buffy, Dawn, Joyce, Hank
rating: g
word count: 1200
recipient: for
sroni who wanted Nostalgia, Mr. Gordo cuddles, looking to the future (hope you like it!)
setting: pre-canon, Key-verse ponderings
Her dad was capable of one parental act: putting her hair in pigtails. Well… not really capable, they sat on the top of her head like she was a character in a Dr. Seuss book, always slightly lopsided, and by the end of the day there was more hair dangling down the back of her neck than up in the little elastic bands he dug out of the bathroom drawer, but it was better than other fathers. Or so her mother would sometimes say, with a far-off look in her eye, when they looked at old pictures of Buffy growing up.
Her dad was capable of one fatherly act and that is why he began taking her with him when he needed to buy her a present. Most fathers, she later gleaned, knew their daughters intimately enough to surprise them on the morning of their birthday with the perfect gift… or there was some unspoken bond between fathers and daughters that no matter how bad the gift, the daughter loves it and cherishes it as if it were the thing she always coveted. Buffy never got that memo.
There may also be another memo that says fathers should probably defer to the mother when purchasing gifts for their daughters, but that one also missed the Summers clan as well.
Normalcy is overrated.
From the age of three, Buffy knew how to pretend to be surprised when she opened the perfectly selected (store wrapped) gifts her father brought home.
Mr. Gordo, was by all accounts, the most tragic and hilarious mistake of Buffy’s early life, he represented the whim and folly of a father that did most things by chance and never learned how to live up to his mistakes. Which was probably why, when everything was said and done, the little pink pig never really disappeared; although with all stories like this, the meaning varies.
In a rush of parental feeling, Hank Summers brought home an innocuous stuffed pink pig as an apology for a business trip that was going to take him away during Buffy’s first gymnastics competition. She was four years old. It was a nice enough pig, she named it Mr. Gordo, placed moderately well in her gymnastics competition (which was really just a bunch of little girls in leotards rolling around on the ground and giggling), and didn’t associate the pig with any specific memory. He became a fixture in her room, sometimes the most important feature and other times shunted off to the side. All children go through phases with their toys, isn’t that what the entire Toy Story franchise presumes? And doesn’t every child deeply understand the plight of both the boy and the toy in a way that cannot be ignored?
In a rush of parental forgiveness, Hank Summers brought home a carefully deliberated over stuffed pig as an explanation that Buffy was about to receive a little brother or sister. Upon further reflection later, he supposed that maybe a toy baby would be more appropriate and went out immediately to remedy the faux pa. Buffy names the toy baby Cynthia and trades her away the next day during snack time at kindergarten for a chocolate pudding. Mr. Gordo becomes a fixture in her room, something she refuses to share with her younger sister and cuddles tight to her chest every night for years.
Her father was capable of one fatherly act: putting her hair in pigtails; and when she no longer needed him to do that, he resorted to awkward lectures and lunches, sitting on the edge of her bed tossing Mr. Gordo from one hand to the other and smiling crookedly.
Dawn knew how to tug on their father’s heartstrings, dragging them to parks and swimming pools and carnivals with a huge smile on her face, making parenting simple and easy; stealing Mr. Gordo and running around the house with him held up over her head.
It is funny how things that don’t seem to matter suddenly fill up with meaning when there’s nothing left to hold onto. In the car on the way to Sunnydale, Buffy held Mr. Gordo to her chest and watched the other cars - full of happy families and teenagers without destinies hanging over their heads - with only the tiniest little kernel of bitterness in her heart. In the car on the way to Sunnydale, Buffy clung to the one gift that her father got her that he didn’t have to ask advice on, possibly the only gift he purchased spur-of-the-moment, without second-guessing himself or doubting his instincts. Someday, she pressed her forehead against the window and ignored the tears trickling down her cheek, someday she’d be a parent and she’d be spontaneous and would buy her kids stupid gifts they’ll probably hate just because she wants to and not to prove anything.
If she survives that long.
Dawn and Buffy throw Mr. Gordo back and forth across the seat in the back and argue about what fast food place to go to for lunch. They sing along to Kidz Bop on the radio and Buffy laughs until she cries. She tries to pretend like there’s nothing wrong at all and she doesn’t feel like sobbing into Mr. Gordo forever and ever and is thankful for the family tragedy and for Dawn’s smile for distracting everyone from the fact that she… burnt down a school gym.
They unpacked and Mr. Gordo oversaw every box, knowing where everything was supposed to go. It was comforting. Her mother nudged Buffy on her way up the stairs and rolled her eyes affectionately. It was just the two of them, Buffy lifted a box that was much too heavy for a normal teenage girl to carry and took it into the kitchen, the least she could do was be helpful. That’s what she’ll do now, she eyed Mr. Gordo and nodded to him, she’ll be helpful.
Dawn stands in the doorway and watches her unpack her bedroom, holding Mr. Gordo against her belly, eyes wide. “What’s up, buddy?” Buffy winks at her. She can be generous today, she’s feeling like being generous is a good idea. “Do you think you’ll have new friends right away?” Dawn’s voice is small. Buffy crouches down in front of her, “I expect you’ll be the most popular girl in second grade by day three.” Dawn blushes and wraps her arms around Buffy, crying into her hair. Buffy catches her mother’s eye above the little girl’s head and they smile sadly at each other.
That night, Buffy and Joyce sat on the couch with pepperoni pizza and root beer floats in plastic cups and watched a movie they’ll never remember and made outlandish goals for their new home that they know they’ll never do but makes them feel better in the moment. Mr. Gordo was promised a girlfriend and seemed rather pleased about it.
That night, Buffy, Dawn, and Joyce sit on the couch with pepperoni pizza and root beer floats with chocolate ice cream in plastic cups and watch a movie Dawn will always remember every line of and make outlandish goals for their new home that they know they’ll never do but makes them feel better in the moment. Mr. Gordo is promised a partner for his detective agency and seems rather pleased about it.