MST3k Fic: The Singlewide of Love
I started an au about Mike as a single foster dad trying to raise Tom and Crow while neighbor Pearl keeps trying to use him to take over the world.
It's under the cut.
Mike was not entirely sure how it had happened. One moment he’d been trying to get his time sheet signed by the latest in a long string of temp bosses, the next he’d been handed custody of a pair of rambunctious boys- ten and twelve- whose father had recently vanished. Being easily talked into things- especially things that came with a sizeable monthly income and a housekeeper- he’d agreed. After all, raising kids, how hard could it be?
The younger of the boys was named Tom, the older Crow. Their father was a janitor, they told him, and also an inventor. Tom had started to add something else, but Crow had clamped a hand tightly over his mouth before going on a long ramble about the various inventions their father had made. None of them sounded practical in and of themselves, but it was clear the man in question was a genius- an eccentric genius, perhaps, but still a genius.
“What else has he made?” Mike asked, during a lull in the conversation. He was worried the boys might be down about their father’s disappearance, but apart from some scoffing at Mike’s initial attempts to befriend them they seem perfectly fine. Certainly willing to roll with things. But he wanted to keep them talking and happy at least until he got them home, where he could sit down and listen to any feelings they needed to get out properly, and not when he was driving.
“He made us!” Tom piped up from the backseat. His brother clamped a hand over his mouth again, and forced a smile.
“With his penis,” Crow said. “He made us with his penis.”
“…right,” Mike said, and turned his full attention to the road. He could tell already that these kids were going to need a really special touch.
~*~
The first thing the boys did when Mike got them home was dump their bags on the floor and run to the couch and start bouncing happily on it, chattering excitedly to each other too loud and cacophonic for Mike to process properly. He shooed them off of the couch so he could pull the hideabed out, and by the time he’d gotten it set up properly the boys had gone off to explore the rest of the house. He sighed and went searching. It was a small house- they didn’t have many places to be.
He found Tom in his own bedroom, crawling under Mike’s bad while mumbling to himself about underwear. Since ‘under his bed’ was where Mike kept his dirty magazines and videos, he hurried over and grabbed the boy around the waist, tugging him out, mindful not to let him get rug burn. The last thing Mike needed was for their first meeting with the social worker to be accompanied by rug burns on the kid.
“Come on, Tommy-boy,” he said, hauling Tom to his feet. “Why don’t you go into the living room while I wrangle your brother, okay? We’ll watch a movie or something while I get you two settled in.”
“Oh, all right,” Tom said. He held up a shoe box that had come out from under the bed with him. “Can I take this with me?”
Mike checked the label on the box, and did a quick mental inventory. That particular box held a stack of old comic books; he gave an internal sigh of relief. “That’s fine,” he said, ushering the kid back into the living room. “But in the future I don’t want you taking anything out from under my bed, okay? It’s where I keep personal things, not for children.”
“He means porn,” Crow said, joining them from the kitchen. He was carrying an enormous mixing bowl filled with uncooked rice, and a spoon. “Joel- I mean, Dad- used to keep his in the top shelf in his closet.”
A yellow flag went up in Mike’s head. He gave Crow what he hoped was a subtle look. “Did he tell you that?”
“Nah.” Crow spooned some rice into his mouth and added, around the spoon, “I mean, not until I asked. He said he’d tell me properly when I was older. But then he disappeared so I guess that’s your job now.”
He made himself comfortable on the couch, content to eat his bowl of rice. Mike was considering pointing out that uncooked rice wasn’t exactly healthy, but before he could there was a tugging on his shirt. He looked down to see Tom, arms held up to him.
“You have to carry me to bed,” he said. “That’s the rules.”
“Oh, of course.” He reached down and picked the kid up. Tom was small for his age, but much heavier than he looked; Mike could lift him, but he couldn’t give him a playful toss as he’d initially planned. He settled for carrying him over to the hideabed and setting him down next to his brother.
“All right, kiddos,” he said. “Do you want to talk about any of the stuff that’s happened to you recently?”
“No.” Crow put down his spoon and lifted his bowl so he could scoot over; opposite him, Tom scooted toward the other side of the bed. “We want to watch a movie.”
“Oh.” They were looking at him expectantly, so Mike dropped himself carefully into the space they’d created for him, looking first at one, then at the other. He grabbed the remote. “Well, let’s see what’s on, won’t we?”
It's under the cut.
Mike was not entirely sure how it had happened. One moment he’d been trying to get his time sheet signed by the latest in a long string of temp bosses, the next he’d been handed custody of a pair of rambunctious boys- ten and twelve- whose father had recently vanished. Being easily talked into things- especially things that came with a sizeable monthly income and a housekeeper- he’d agreed. After all, raising kids, how hard could it be?
The younger of the boys was named Tom, the older Crow. Their father was a janitor, they told him, and also an inventor. Tom had started to add something else, but Crow had clamped a hand tightly over his mouth before going on a long ramble about the various inventions their father had made. None of them sounded practical in and of themselves, but it was clear the man in question was a genius- an eccentric genius, perhaps, but still a genius.
“What else has he made?” Mike asked, during a lull in the conversation. He was worried the boys might be down about their father’s disappearance, but apart from some scoffing at Mike’s initial attempts to befriend them they seem perfectly fine. Certainly willing to roll with things. But he wanted to keep them talking and happy at least until he got them home, where he could sit down and listen to any feelings they needed to get out properly, and not when he was driving.
“He made us!” Tom piped up from the backseat. His brother clamped a hand over his mouth again, and forced a smile.
“With his penis,” Crow said. “He made us with his penis.”
“…right,” Mike said, and turned his full attention to the road. He could tell already that these kids were going to need a really special touch.
~*~
The first thing the boys did when Mike got them home was dump their bags on the floor and run to the couch and start bouncing happily on it, chattering excitedly to each other too loud and cacophonic for Mike to process properly. He shooed them off of the couch so he could pull the hideabed out, and by the time he’d gotten it set up properly the boys had gone off to explore the rest of the house. He sighed and went searching. It was a small house- they didn’t have many places to be.
He found Tom in his own bedroom, crawling under Mike’s bad while mumbling to himself about underwear. Since ‘under his bed’ was where Mike kept his dirty magazines and videos, he hurried over and grabbed the boy around the waist, tugging him out, mindful not to let him get rug burn. The last thing Mike needed was for their first meeting with the social worker to be accompanied by rug burns on the kid.
“Come on, Tommy-boy,” he said, hauling Tom to his feet. “Why don’t you go into the living room while I wrangle your brother, okay? We’ll watch a movie or something while I get you two settled in.”
“Oh, all right,” Tom said. He held up a shoe box that had come out from under the bed with him. “Can I take this with me?”
Mike checked the label on the box, and did a quick mental inventory. That particular box held a stack of old comic books; he gave an internal sigh of relief. “That’s fine,” he said, ushering the kid back into the living room. “But in the future I don’t want you taking anything out from under my bed, okay? It’s where I keep personal things, not for children.”
“He means porn,” Crow said, joining them from the kitchen. He was carrying an enormous mixing bowl filled with uncooked rice, and a spoon. “Joel- I mean, Dad- used to keep his in the top shelf in his closet.”
A yellow flag went up in Mike’s head. He gave Crow what he hoped was a subtle look. “Did he tell you that?”
“Nah.” Crow spooned some rice into his mouth and added, around the spoon, “I mean, not until I asked. He said he’d tell me properly when I was older. But then he disappeared so I guess that’s your job now.”
He made himself comfortable on the couch, content to eat his bowl of rice. Mike was considering pointing out that uncooked rice wasn’t exactly healthy, but before he could there was a tugging on his shirt. He looked down to see Tom, arms held up to him.
“You have to carry me to bed,” he said. “That’s the rules.”
“Oh, of course.” He reached down and picked the kid up. Tom was small for his age, but much heavier than he looked; Mike could lift him, but he couldn’t give him a playful toss as he’d initially planned. He settled for carrying him over to the hideabed and setting him down next to his brother.
“All right, kiddos,” he said. “Do you want to talk about any of the stuff that’s happened to you recently?”
“No.” Crow put down his spoon and lifted his bowl so he could scoot over; opposite him, Tom scooted toward the other side of the bed. “We want to watch a movie.”
“Oh.” They were looking at him expectantly, so Mike dropped himself carefully into the space they’d created for him, looking first at one, then at the other. He grabbed the remote. “Well, let’s see what’s on, won’t we?”