Veronica Mars: Dick/Mac
Title: Call It A Day
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Characters: Dick/Mac, Madison (kid!fic)
Prompt: 038. Enemy
Word Count: 2011
Rating: PG
Summary: It was the second month of school when Dick Casablancas got called back into the principal's office for yet another parent-teacher-student conference. (Set sometime between Palindromes and I Turn My Camera On.)
Author's Notes: Unbeta'd because I'm horrible. Feedback is muchly appreciated!
It was the second month of school when Dick Casablancas got called back into the principal's office for yet another parent-teacher-student conference. He assumed they'd already called Mac (this was the seventh time, he'd given the school her cell number on the fourth) and hoped that at least this time she hadn't destroyed any school property that he would have to pay for. The last three times had honestly been enough.
He walked through the now-familiar entrance to the school administration office and sat down in one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs in the receptionist's office.
Well, Logan wasn't here. Which meant that Jace Echolls probably hadn't been Aviva's partner in crime this time.
He drummed his hands on the arm of the chair, intent on trying to find out what the painting on the wall was a painting of before he heard the clacking of heels approaching the double glass doors of the office.
It wasn't Mac at least - she was eight months pregnant. She could barely see her feet anymore let alone reach them to put on anything more complicated than flip-flops (and even those had her in tears at the end of five minutes).
He looked towards the doors and his eyes widened when he saw Madison Sinclair (Sinclair-Something according to Mac) approaching the office. He leaned back in his chair.
"Can I get some service? Like, now?"
The door swung open and Madison noticed him immediately.
"Oh," she sneered.
"Hey, Maddie," Dick smiled. "How's life?" Madison tapped the receptionist's desk.
"Where's my daughter?" The receptionist looked up.
"Nurse's office." Madison frowned.
"God," she sighed. She looked at Dick. "What did your little monster do to my baby?" Dick shrugged.
The school, for some reason or another, never gave information over the phone. Madison sighed.
"When can I see her?"
"As soon as they get the mud off," the receptionist answered. Madison sighed again, continuing to tap one lacquered fingernail on the counter. Dick focused in on the painting behind her again.
"How's the wife?" Madison asked conversationally. "She's pregnant, right?"
Mac had been attending the PTA meetings at the school for the past three months because of the pregnancy. She often bought home tidbits like, "The school is banning sodas to allow our five-year-old a better chance at a diet", or "Sorry, Aviva - Lady Madison says that jumping on the bed isn't an appropriate independent study P.E. activity. Go out and play in the sprinklers." Dick knew she hated the meetings, but being trapped in the house for the past months had released her inner hormonal rage and she'd started pinching him for fun. Besides, while she was gone he could watch Dancing With the Stars without getting slack about the chicks' skimpy outfits.
"She's pregnant, yeah," Dick nodded. "Going on nine months."
"I remember when I was pregnant with Amber," Madison reminisced. "It was great. I got to eat anything I wanted. But I'm sure Mac does that anyway, right?" Dick barely had time to think her question through before a nurse was escorting the two girls in question out of the nurse's office. Madison's eyes bugged nearly out of her skull and Dick rose to his feet quickly.
"Why is my daughter's arm in a sling?"
"Why does my kid have a head injury?"
"What's wrong with her hair?"
"Is a tooth missing?"
"No, daddy, that was gone already." Madison and Dick both turned to the receptionist.
Answers were needed.
"Well, as far as we could tell," the receptionist floundered for words. "A fight broke out on the playground - we're not sure who started it, but it involved a tumble off of a jungle gym."
"Obviously it was his kid!" Madison pointed to Dick. "His kid's an animal!"
"Hey, at least my kid's not a spoiled brat!" Dick snapped.
"Amber is not spoiled -"
"She has chandelier earrings!"
"They're cute!"
Had Mac been there, she probably would have mentioned something about the early womanization of children under ten or something that led to urbanization or something, but since Dick was alone, he just scoffed.
"Come on, kid. We've got to think of a cover story on the way home." He grabbed his daughter's one uninjured hand and pulled her along out the door.
"Can we get ice cream on the way home?" Aviva asked, tilting her head.
Oh, that head tilt... she must have learned it from Veronica's kid.
"Well, yeah, but don't tell your mom and go brush your teeth right away when we get home. Your mom's got a great nose."
~*~
"Mac!" Dick pushed open the door to the house cautiously. "Your kid broke Madison Sinclair's kid." Aviva was very seldom Dick's kid - unless of course she did something like help a teacher with lunch or win the honor roll for the month. Any other time she was Mac's kid.
Mac came out of the kitchen with her hands on her hips. Dick tapped Aviva on the back.
"Go brush your teeth."
"Bye, mommy!" Aviva yelled, rushing past her mom and climbing up the stairs two at a time. Mac frowned at the kid.
"I can't figure out who taught her that dog-step thing," she said pensievely. "You or the kid at her school who's always covered in dirt."
"She sprained Amber Sinclair's wrist, tore out a chunk of hair out of the back of her head, then they tumbled off of a jungle gym and... there were casualties," Dick explained.
"I'm sure the other girl deserved it," Mac shrugged. Dick raised an eyebrow.
"Are you all right?" he asked, stepping forward a few steps to touch her shoulder. "You're acting kind of... happy." Mac shrugged again and smiled.
"My doctor gave me pills to control the hormones," she said happily.
"Of course," he nodded. He was about to ask the doc to do something of the sort anyway.
"It feels like Viagra for my brain!" Mac boasted with a broad smile. Dick sighed.
"Does this mean I'm going to have to be the bad cop and ask Second-Gen up there why she tried to kill a first-grader?" Mac frowned.
"Wait, I'm usually the bad cop?" she asked. Dick took a step back.
"I love you!" he said quickly, giving her a quick kiss on the lips before running up the stairs. "I'll get to the bottom of this!"
~*~
Dick hadn't been in his daughter's room alone since a year ago - the last time he'd sang her to sleep and she ended up repeating the lyrics of the South Park version of "Dreidel Dreidel Dreidel" to the rest of her class the next day. Since then, Mac hadn't let him sing her to sleep anymore. Or at least not without supervision.
"Nano?" Dick knocked lightly on the door. Until he remembered his daughter was five - not twenty and opened it himself. Aviva peered up at him from her twin bed. Dick walked in and sat on the other end of the bed. It was quiet for a few seconds before he finally spoke again. "Why'd you push Amber Sinclair off the jungle gym?"
"Her name isn't Sinclair it's - "
"Whatever!" Dick waved it off. "You pushed her off."
"I didn't push her," Aviva frowned and sat up. "She pushed me."
"Okay," Dick sighed. "Why'd she push you?" Aviva shrugged.
"She doesn't like me." Of course - it'd only be poetic justice that the Sinclair vs. Mackenzie fight would continue on in their five and six-year-old daughters.
Aviva mumbled something that sounded very familiar to Dick.
"What?" he asked, nudging her slightly in the side. Aviva sighed and scowled - her blue eyes turning darker and her face becoming an almost exact replica of... someone else.
"She called me fat, so I put her in the mud and she got mad and chased me up the ladder to the slide and pushed me off the side, so I grabbed her hair and pulled her down with me."
Well, it wasn't like he could yell at her for being a Casablancas.
Dick sighed.
"Go to sleep."
"It's the afternoon."
"I don't care, go to bed," Dick said, getting up to leave the room. "And if she calls you fat again, make sure you don't get caught."
~*~
Mac woke up in the middle of the night to hear mumbling - it sounded like it was just out of reach. Like...
"Dick, are you talking to my stomach?" she asked. Dick appeared from down near the foot of the bed.
"No," he said. "I'm talking to our baby." He shrugged. "Who just happens to currently live in your stomach."
"Oh," Mac nodded. "Why are you talking to the baby?" she asked blearily. And more importantly, how long had this been going on? How long had her husband been programming their unborn child to be like him? She'd realized a few months back when Aviva had gotten caught flicking gerbil droppings at the new girl at school (the one "who wears funny glasses and doesn't celebrate holidays") that it was too late for their firstborn, but had entertained a slight hope that at least their son could have a decent moral compass.
All those thoughts were down the drain now.
"We're deciding on a name," Dick said, laying down next to her again and entertwining is fingers with hers. "He says he wants to be named Dick Jr. The Second." Mac scoffed.
"Dick, I already told you - "
"He likes it!" Dick told her. Mac couldn't help but smile. Even if there was no way in hell they were naming their son Dick Casablancas Jr. The Second, this did bring up the significant naming issue.
They had less than five weeks until a doctor would tear up her stomach (because after being persuaded by her mother to have Aviva naturally, Mac had quickly decided she would never do that again) and pull out a nameless baby boy. Mac had been putting of the naming because... well, she just didn't want to think about naming a kid who wasn't even legally alive yet.
"We're not naming him Steve Chops or whatever that guy's name is either," Dick told her.
"Steve Jobs?" Mac corrected. So, the thought of naming her son after the CEO of Apple had crossed her mind, and had stuck there for a week, but she'd soon dismissed. Steve Casablancas was not going to be her son's name. Never.
"Yeah, whatever," Dick said. He raised her hand up and began to play with her fingers. "And 'Holden' is completely out of the question. Our kid is not going to be named after some depressed whiny teenaged pedophile."
"Holden Caulfield is not a pedophile!" Mac said, an ironic smile coming over her lips.
"Please - did you see the way the little perve was always checking out his sister? Total freak."
"Dick!" Mac decided to get off of the subject of her favorite book, when an idea struck her. "What about Spencer?" she asked. Dick thought about it for a minute.
"Spencer Casablancas?" he pursed his lips. "Spencer Richard Casablancas..." Okay, she'd let him get away with the middle name for now. She planned on being the one to sign the papers anyways. "I like it." Mac smiled.
"I like it too. I also like sleep," she told him. "I've got another P.T.A. meeting from hell tomorrow. I need all that I can get because I just know Madison's going to bring up the jungle gym thing."
Dick watched as Mac tried to get settled again, shifting around with her huge-ass belly until she got comfortable. He waited until her breathing evened out to wriggled down under the covers until he could see her stomach.
"Your name is Spencer Casablancas, all right?" he whispered, placing a hand on her stomach. "Good night, Spence."
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Characters: Dick/Mac, Madison (kid!fic)
Prompt: 038. Enemy
Word Count: 2011
Rating: PG
Summary: It was the second month of school when Dick Casablancas got called back into the principal's office for yet another parent-teacher-student conference. (Set sometime between Palindromes and I Turn My Camera On.)
Author's Notes: Unbeta'd because I'm horrible. Feedback is muchly appreciated!
It was the second month of school when Dick Casablancas got called back into the principal's office for yet another parent-teacher-student conference. He assumed they'd already called Mac (this was the seventh time, he'd given the school her cell number on the fourth) and hoped that at least this time she hadn't destroyed any school property that he would have to pay for. The last three times had honestly been enough.
He walked through the now-familiar entrance to the school administration office and sat down in one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs in the receptionist's office.
Well, Logan wasn't here. Which meant that Jace Echolls probably hadn't been Aviva's partner in crime this time.
He drummed his hands on the arm of the chair, intent on trying to find out what the painting on the wall was a painting of before he heard the clacking of heels approaching the double glass doors of the office.
It wasn't Mac at least - she was eight months pregnant. She could barely see her feet anymore let alone reach them to put on anything more complicated than flip-flops (and even those had her in tears at the end of five minutes).
He looked towards the doors and his eyes widened when he saw Madison Sinclair (Sinclair-Something according to Mac) approaching the office. He leaned back in his chair.
"Can I get some service? Like, now?"
The door swung open and Madison noticed him immediately.
"Oh," she sneered.
"Hey, Maddie," Dick smiled. "How's life?" Madison tapped the receptionist's desk.
"Where's my daughter?" The receptionist looked up.
"Nurse's office." Madison frowned.
"God," she sighed. She looked at Dick. "What did your little monster do to my baby?" Dick shrugged.
The school, for some reason or another, never gave information over the phone. Madison sighed.
"When can I see her?"
"As soon as they get the mud off," the receptionist answered. Madison sighed again, continuing to tap one lacquered fingernail on the counter. Dick focused in on the painting behind her again.
"How's the wife?" Madison asked conversationally. "She's pregnant, right?"
Mac had been attending the PTA meetings at the school for the past three months because of the pregnancy. She often bought home tidbits like, "The school is banning sodas to allow our five-year-old a better chance at a diet", or "Sorry, Aviva - Lady Madison says that jumping on the bed isn't an appropriate independent study P.E. activity. Go out and play in the sprinklers." Dick knew she hated the meetings, but being trapped in the house for the past months had released her inner hormonal rage and she'd started pinching him for fun. Besides, while she was gone he could watch Dancing With the Stars without getting slack about the chicks' skimpy outfits.
"She's pregnant, yeah," Dick nodded. "Going on nine months."
"I remember when I was pregnant with Amber," Madison reminisced. "It was great. I got to eat anything I wanted. But I'm sure Mac does that anyway, right?" Dick barely had time to think her question through before a nurse was escorting the two girls in question out of the nurse's office. Madison's eyes bugged nearly out of her skull and Dick rose to his feet quickly.
"Why is my daughter's arm in a sling?"
"Why does my kid have a head injury?"
"What's wrong with her hair?"
"Is a tooth missing?"
"No, daddy, that was gone already." Madison and Dick both turned to the receptionist.
Answers were needed.
"Well, as far as we could tell," the receptionist floundered for words. "A fight broke out on the playground - we're not sure who started it, but it involved a tumble off of a jungle gym."
"Obviously it was his kid!" Madison pointed to Dick. "His kid's an animal!"
"Hey, at least my kid's not a spoiled brat!" Dick snapped.
"Amber is not spoiled -"
"She has chandelier earrings!"
"They're cute!"
Had Mac been there, she probably would have mentioned something about the early womanization of children under ten or something that led to urbanization or something, but since Dick was alone, he just scoffed.
"Come on, kid. We've got to think of a cover story on the way home." He grabbed his daughter's one uninjured hand and pulled her along out the door.
"Can we get ice cream on the way home?" Aviva asked, tilting her head.
Oh, that head tilt... she must have learned it from Veronica's kid.
"Well, yeah, but don't tell your mom and go brush your teeth right away when we get home. Your mom's got a great nose."
~*~
"Mac!" Dick pushed open the door to the house cautiously. "Your kid broke Madison Sinclair's kid." Aviva was very seldom Dick's kid - unless of course she did something like help a teacher with lunch or win the honor roll for the month. Any other time she was Mac's kid.
Mac came out of the kitchen with her hands on her hips. Dick tapped Aviva on the back.
"Go brush your teeth."
"Bye, mommy!" Aviva yelled, rushing past her mom and climbing up the stairs two at a time. Mac frowned at the kid.
"I can't figure out who taught her that dog-step thing," she said pensievely. "You or the kid at her school who's always covered in dirt."
"She sprained Amber Sinclair's wrist, tore out a chunk of hair out of the back of her head, then they tumbled off of a jungle gym and... there were casualties," Dick explained.
"I'm sure the other girl deserved it," Mac shrugged. Dick raised an eyebrow.
"Are you all right?" he asked, stepping forward a few steps to touch her shoulder. "You're acting kind of... happy." Mac shrugged again and smiled.
"My doctor gave me pills to control the hormones," she said happily.
"Of course," he nodded. He was about to ask the doc to do something of the sort anyway.
"It feels like Viagra for my brain!" Mac boasted with a broad smile. Dick sighed.
"Does this mean I'm going to have to be the bad cop and ask Second-Gen up there why she tried to kill a first-grader?" Mac frowned.
"Wait, I'm usually the bad cop?" she asked. Dick took a step back.
"I love you!" he said quickly, giving her a quick kiss on the lips before running up the stairs. "I'll get to the bottom of this!"
~*~
Dick hadn't been in his daughter's room alone since a year ago - the last time he'd sang her to sleep and she ended up repeating the lyrics of the South Park version of "Dreidel Dreidel Dreidel" to the rest of her class the next day. Since then, Mac hadn't let him sing her to sleep anymore. Or at least not without supervision.
"Nano?" Dick knocked lightly on the door. Until he remembered his daughter was five - not twenty and opened it himself. Aviva peered up at him from her twin bed. Dick walked in and sat on the other end of the bed. It was quiet for a few seconds before he finally spoke again. "Why'd you push Amber Sinclair off the jungle gym?"
"Her name isn't Sinclair it's - "
"Whatever!" Dick waved it off. "You pushed her off."
"I didn't push her," Aviva frowned and sat up. "She pushed me."
"Okay," Dick sighed. "Why'd she push you?" Aviva shrugged.
"She doesn't like me." Of course - it'd only be poetic justice that the Sinclair vs. Mackenzie fight would continue on in their five and six-year-old daughters.
Aviva mumbled something that sounded very familiar to Dick.
"What?" he asked, nudging her slightly in the side. Aviva sighed and scowled - her blue eyes turning darker and her face becoming an almost exact replica of... someone else.
"She called me fat, so I put her in the mud and she got mad and chased me up the ladder to the slide and pushed me off the side, so I grabbed her hair and pulled her down with me."
Well, it wasn't like he could yell at her for being a Casablancas.
Dick sighed.
"Go to sleep."
"It's the afternoon."
"I don't care, go to bed," Dick said, getting up to leave the room. "And if she calls you fat again, make sure you don't get caught."
~*~
Mac woke up in the middle of the night to hear mumbling - it sounded like it was just out of reach. Like...
"Dick, are you talking to my stomach?" she asked. Dick appeared from down near the foot of the bed.
"No," he said. "I'm talking to our baby." He shrugged. "Who just happens to currently live in your stomach."
"Oh," Mac nodded. "Why are you talking to the baby?" she asked blearily. And more importantly, how long had this been going on? How long had her husband been programming their unborn child to be like him? She'd realized a few months back when Aviva had gotten caught flicking gerbil droppings at the new girl at school (the one "who wears funny glasses and doesn't celebrate holidays") that it was too late for their firstborn, but had entertained a slight hope that at least their son could have a decent moral compass.
All those thoughts were down the drain now.
"We're deciding on a name," Dick said, laying down next to her again and entertwining is fingers with hers. "He says he wants to be named Dick Jr. The Second." Mac scoffed.
"Dick, I already told you - "
"He likes it!" Dick told her. Mac couldn't help but smile. Even if there was no way in hell they were naming their son Dick Casablancas Jr. The Second, this did bring up the significant naming issue.
They had less than five weeks until a doctor would tear up her stomach (because after being persuaded by her mother to have Aviva naturally, Mac had quickly decided she would never do that again) and pull out a nameless baby boy. Mac had been putting of the naming because... well, she just didn't want to think about naming a kid who wasn't even legally alive yet.
"We're not naming him Steve Chops or whatever that guy's name is either," Dick told her.
"Steve Jobs?" Mac corrected. So, the thought of naming her son after the CEO of Apple had crossed her mind, and had stuck there for a week, but she'd soon dismissed. Steve Casablancas was not going to be her son's name. Never.
"Yeah, whatever," Dick said. He raised her hand up and began to play with her fingers. "And 'Holden' is completely out of the question. Our kid is not going to be named after some depressed whiny teenaged pedophile."
"Holden Caulfield is not a pedophile!" Mac said, an ironic smile coming over her lips.
"Please - did you see the way the little perve was always checking out his sister? Total freak."
"Dick!" Mac decided to get off of the subject of her favorite book, when an idea struck her. "What about Spencer?" she asked. Dick thought about it for a minute.
"Spencer Casablancas?" he pursed his lips. "Spencer Richard Casablancas..." Okay, she'd let him get away with the middle name for now. She planned on being the one to sign the papers anyways. "I like it." Mac smiled.
"I like it too. I also like sleep," she told him. "I've got another P.T.A. meeting from hell tomorrow. I need all that I can get because I just know Madison's going to bring up the jungle gym thing."
Dick watched as Mac tried to get settled again, shifting around with her huge-ass belly until she got comfortable. He waited until her breathing evened out to wriggled down under the covers until he could see her stomach.
"Your name is Spencer Casablancas, all right?" he whispered, placing a hand on her stomach. "Good night, Spence."