(Untitled)

[inhistorybooks]

Who: THE TUCKERS and anyone who wants to come over for dinner.
Where: The Tucker residence.
What: Trip trying to fix the stove and then cook things. :|
When: First day of port, evening.
Warnings: Trip might set the house on fire.

Comments

[notarabiddog]

Lucian was standing in the alcove of the small kitchen a few feet away from the oven. Raze, the german shepherd cross, was by his side wagging his tail dutifully and (believe it or not) wearing the same expression as Lucian; utter concern for the fate of their oven.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" The tiny human stomach flipped in fear it might be only getting ham and cheese sandwiches for dinner.

[inhistorybooks]

Trip looked over at the unfamiliar voice, recognizing both the kid and the dog from some of the family photos he'd seen around the house. That, of course, didn't stop it from being incredibly weird to suddenly be married with five kids, and while he'd always kind of wanted to be a dad, it wasn't like he actually had any idea of how to just pretend like he'd been raising these kids since the day they were born, or adopted or whatever.

"I've got some idea," he said, which while admittedly not super reassuring to anyone listening at least made him feel better. He straightened up and turned around to get a better look at the kid. "You're Lucian, right?"

[notarabiddog]

"Yes, Sir." Lucian never had a real father and such was unsure how to address one. Lucian casually walked over Trip, knowing exactly what the man's role was in this family circus. Lucian had already done a basic layout of the home of his head, emergency exits, memorised family photos, searched through drawers for birth certificates, bank balances and school report cards. Perhaps there was more boy scout in him than he thought; always be prepared.

Unfortunately as Trip stood up Lucian the ten year old had to crane his neck upwards to face his father. Raze craned his head up too. "This isn't bizarre in the slightest."

[inhistorybooks]

"It does rank pretty high on the scale of weird things that've happened ta me," he drawled, shrugging a little, looking down at the kid. His son.

...

This was weird.

"You don't hafta call me sir. Trip's fine. Or Dad, I guess." He didn't really mind either way. He gestured to the stove. "Dinner... might take a while. Have you seen your, uh, mom?"