Hello friends. I rarely write fanfic anymore and I have never written for Animaniacs before, but sometimes an idea niggles at me, so here I am again. This little oneshot is pure, sweet, downy fluff. I have always enjoyed the dynamic between the Warners and Scratchansniff, and I wanted to play around with it. I hope you will forgive any inconsistencies with canon; I haven't seen every episode. Thanks for having a read and I hope you enjoy it! - Silent Knight

Dr Otto Scratchansniff was about ten steps away from getting into bed when he sensed that something was awry.

Call it a sixth sense. It didn't necessarily have to do with being a psychiatrist, but sometimes he felt he was gifted with the ability to sense another's thoughts. At that moment, thoughts were penetrating the walls of his home, and they weren't his. Someone was standing outside, and their anxiety was rippling through the air.

He stopped with one hand outstretched towards his bedspread, and considered. It had been a long day. It had been one of those days, where he'd had a dreaded appointment with the Warner kids. He had tried to encourage them to share their thoughts about work. How did it make them feel to be child superstars? Were there days when it was hard to go to work? What about when the show receives criticism – how does that make them feel? Simple stuff like that. He couldn't remember the exact sequence of events now, but the session had ended with Dot being pancaked onto the ceiling of the office so severely that he'd needed a rake to get her down. He'd left the room for only about 30 seconds to fetch the rake, and when he'd come back, Wakko was sitting on the photocopier, paper spewing across the room, killing trees at a rate of one per second, and Yakko had produced a knife and was rapidly carving designs on the edges of the mahogany desk, saying he was creating lovely 'cornices' that would increase its resale value.

The point was: it had been a long day. There was his bed. The lights were already off. He could just ignore the presence outside, couldn't he? Turning towards the window, he saw the visitor's shadow pass by as if heading for the front door. It was a small shadow. It couldn't be.

Some days, they just couldn't leave well enough alone. Well ... most days.

Anticipating that this was going to get worse before it got better, he began stomping to his front door, angrily wrenching his night robe tight around him. Flicking on the hall light and turning the lock in one smooth motion, he tore the door open just in time to make Yakko pause in the middle of reaching for the doorbell.

Yakko looked surprised for only a fraction of a second, then immediately flashed that toothy grin that Dr Scratchansniff had come to know too well. It was the grin that concealed the evil intent beneath. "Gee, you've got good ears, doc! Can't get one past you, can I?"

"I am going to point out ze obvious," the doctor replied, dragging out every word through the grinding of his teeth. "It iz really very late. It iz vell past ze bedtime of hyperactive little kidses. Votever it iz you vant, it can vait, and it vill vait, until ze morning."

Yakko faked a confused look. "But I came all this way just to see you!"

"All ze vay from just over zere?!" the doctor snapped, pointing towards the shadow of the water tower, which was visible in the near distance as it loomed over the lot on this otherwise silent evening. Then something occured to him. Only one Warner was standing on his doorstep. "Vait ... vhere are ze ozzers?!"

He looked behind him, expecting – in his paranoia, absolutely expecting – to see two tiny shadows rampaging through his house. The furniture would already be overturned. They would already be in the kitchen, using the blender without the lid.

But no; all was quiet and well. He turned back, disbelieving. "Vhere are zey?" he demanded. "Probably breaking down my back door as ve speak, ja?"

"Uhhh, well, actually–"

"It is ten-zirty at night!" the doctor raged, finally lifting his voice. "You kidses have already been tormenting me all day! Vas it not enough for you?!"

Yakko beamed. "We can never get enough of you, Scratchy!"

Scratchansniff slapped a hand to his face and dragged it down slowly, taking a deep breath of calm. "Yakko ... vhere are ze ozzer two?"

"In the water tower. Fast asleep. Snoring loudly, or cutely, in Dot's case."

Scratchansniff considered this. It didn't really compute. He folded his arms. "Alright, I vill ask. Vhy are you not zere vith zem? Snoring avay like all good kidses should be doing at zis time of night?"

"Uhhhhhh," Yakko started, looking around as if for inspiration. This was wearing too painfully thin. Scratchansniff was seriously thinking about just slamming the door in Yakko's face and being done with it, when Yakko seemed to settle on what he wanted to say. "Oh! Well, I was wondering. What are you doing this Sunday?"

"I am sure I vill be engaged in very important vork that does not involve anyzing to do vith you Varners," said the doctor emphatically. Whatever game Yakko was playing at, he was not stupid enough to fall into it.

"Oh. 'Cause see, the thing is, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go to the park? You know, the one just down the road outside the lot thatta way, with the swings and that twisty slide and stuff? And the duck pond, with the little ducks? We could bring bread and feed them–"

"Stop, stop, stop, stop," Scratchansniff sighed. "Yakko, vot abzolute nonzense iz zis? If you vant to go to the park, you go to the park! Nobody has ever been able to stop you kidses from doing exactly vot shenanigans you vant! Go to ze park. I do not care. Right now, I am going to bed!"

He grabbed the door. He was going to pull it shut with an appropriate booming slam, when Yakko made his move, and, alas, the poor old doctor never was quite fast enough. Next thing he knew, he was staggering backwards into the hallway, a black and white whatchamacallit wrapped around him, two beady black eyes peering longingly into his own.

"Oh, pleeeeease, Dr Scratchansniff!" Yakko put on a pleading whine, as Scratchansniff windmilled his arms, trying frantically to find his centre of balance before they both went down. "Just one little trip to the park! Come with us to feed the ducks! Don't you like ducks? How could you not like ducks? We'll be ever so good! Just one happy little trip to the park on a beautiful sunny Sunday! Oh pleeeeeease!"

"Get down, get down!" Scratchansniff raged, tugging and pushing and squirming. Blasted kids had grips like vices. However, now that he had succeeded in getting into the house, Yakko seemed happy enough to oblige.

He hopped down, clamped his hands behind his back and threw all his energy into a toothy, prolonged, shut-eyed "Pleeeeeeeeease?!"

Scratchansniff tried, once again, to find his calm by heaving in a great, deep breath. The kid was plainly up to something nefarious. Just throwing him out of the house would not be enough to keep him away. As much as he could scarcely be bothered, the only way to get Yakko to leave now was to work through whatever insanity he was talking about. Scratchansniff only hoped it would be resolved quickly.

"Okay, okay–"

"Oh thank you!"

"No no! I have not accepted! I am vanting so very much to go to bed right now, as you should be doing alzo, so I am asking you zis in ze hope your answer vill be short: vhy, exactly, do you vant to go to ze park?"

"With you. We want to go to the park with you! On Sunday."

"On Zunday."

"Yeah!"

There had to be more to it than that. "To feed ducks?"

"To feed ducks, and swing on swings, and run around and buy ice-creams and–"

"And it iz entirely nezezzary zat you ask me zis at ten-zirty at night."

"Nezezzary, yes."

Scratchansniff sighed. How could he go about talking his way out of this? Trying to talk Yakko down on anything was typically a lost game before it even began. "Yakko, I do not have an appointment vith you Varners on Zunday, and I am not going to schedule an extra vun! Now, maybe, if you vant to have vun of our regular zessions in ze park, zat might be a profitable idea." Actually, thinking about it, it could have advantages. The kids might wear themselves out, he could talk to them while they were relaxed and happy, and his office wouldn't be destroyed. That definitely had potential...

"Uhhh, no. It has to be this Sunday."

"But vhy?"

"Wee-ee-ee-ee-ll," Yakko started, and once again he was looking around him as if expecting the answer to jump out from the shadows of the hallway. And it was, at that precise moment, that Scratchansniff saw something new. Unless he was dramatically misinterpreting the sight, Yakko actually appeared to be nervous. He was keeping his hands behind his back, he wasn't keen on eye contact, his ears were a bit flat, and – most shockingly – he was struggling to find words.

It wasn't something Scratchansniff usually saw in the motormouth Warner. Actually, it was probably something he had never seen. It was highly, highly unusual. Now that he thought about it, it was even more unusual for the kid to show up uninvited at this hour (fortunately, nighttime antics were not typical of them), and it was really unusual that Wakko and Dot weren't there. Scratchansniff had one-on-one sessions with them sometimes, which they were forced to do; and occasionally he would run into Wakko on his own. The middle child seemed to be comfortable being by himself, and so would sometimes strike out alone to pursue his own games and ideas. But it was definitely off-colour to see Yakko on his own. It wasn't Yakko's style at all; it meant he didn't have someone on hand at all times to talk to.

It dawned on Scratchansniff that something might actually be wrong. Had he not sensed palpable waves of anxiety earlier, when Yakko had been sneaking up to the front door? It seemed absurd, but could something genuinely be the matter? And if it was, did Yakko actually hold the doctor in such esteem that he would come to him for help?

Despite himself, Scratchansniff felt his caring psychiatrist instinct kick in. "Tell me vhy," he prompted, more gently this time.

"Um, well, it's like this," Yakko said at last. "This Sunday is a special day."

"It iz?" Scratchansniff racked his brain. "Iz it zumvun's birzday?"

"No. It's, um, it's Father's Day."

"Farzer's Day?" the doctor repeated dumbly. Oh yes, so it was. There had been lots of ads around lately spruiking the usual cards and socks-and-jocks trash that people bought. Scratchansniff never took notice of those ads as they were quite irrelevant to him. His own father had long since passed away, and he didn't have any children, so Father's Day wasn't even on his radar.

Looking back to the young toon before him, he was surprised to see Yakko watching him with genuine, open-faced nervousness. "How 'bout it, doc? Do you wanna go to the park for Father's Day?"

Well, this was unexpected. Yakko wasn't so much in trouble as he had a favour to ask. But it was definitely an odd request. "Yakko, do you understand vot Farzer's Day iz about?"

"Kids doing fun stuff with their dads," Yakko replied immediately.

"Vell ... ja. Except zat, I am not your farzer." And didn't he know it. For whatever reason, the Warner kids sometimes liked to act as if he was, typically when it would result in the most embarrassment for him. He still remembered, with an angry blush, the three of them hammering on his car door that night at the drive-in, begging 'Daddy' to let them inside. He knew they wanted in just so they could ruin his date, but everyone else at the drive-in thought they were locked out because he was a heartless jerk who was cruel to his children. That had been a night to forget.

"Well duh, doc!" Yakko was saying. "But wouldn't it be fun? There are ducks, you see! Ducks." He swiped a foot across the floor, thinking. "Besides, who else are we gonna do fun dad stuff with?"

"Okay, look. I know you kidses get a lot of mileage from pretending I am your uncaring and neglectful farzer–"

"Oh no, it's not like that this time!" Yakko interrupted, and if he was faking sincerity, it was very well done. "We just want to do something fun with you on Father's Day. That's all there is to it, Scratchy, really!" He straightened his back and slapped a hand over his heart. "I swear it!"

"But I am not–"

"But you sort of are, right?"

Scratchansniff was brought up short. He had always thought that the kids' antics when they were carrying on about him being their dad were just to irritate the hell out of him. There couldn't be any truth to it – could there? In reality, the three of them didn't have parents, and that was frankly one of the many root causes of their zaniness problem. There were no adult figures in their lives who could slap them down when they needed it. Yakko was able to exercise some degree of order over the younger two, but only when he wanted to or when it suited him; most of the time, he was leading the way, encouraging his little siblings to be as mischievous as possible. Goodness knows they could all benefit from a proper parent.

But it wasn't going to be Scratchansniff. Never. He was their psychiatrist, not their parent. He could not allow them to view him in that way. Unless it was already too late? Surely, Yakko was pulling his leg, as usual. Although, why would he show up at this ridiculous hour, without his siblings, looking genuinely nervous, if the request wasn't serious? The doctor felt too tired to ponder these things now. Perhaps, though, he could bring himself to ponder it by the light of day.

"Vhy must you bozzer me about zis now?" Scratchansniff tried. "If you vant to talk in ze morning, you can come back, ja? Run back to your tower now. I vill zink about it in ze morning, okay?"

"Ah, no, come on, doc! It's easy, isn't it? Just say yes or no: Father's Day in the park. How 'bout it?"

"Yakko, when ze zun iz up and I can zink clearly–"

"Please? Just say yes or no. I won't ask again."

Exasperated, Scratchansniff stared down at the kid, searching his face for a clue. But, surprisingly, there was no trace of the usual cheeky grin. "Vhy can zis not vait until ze morning?"

"Because the sibs will be awake then," Yakko replied, like that explained everything. When Scratchansniff continued to look blank, Yakko cast his eyes down. "I wanted to ask you when they weren't around. I haven't suggested the idea to them yet. But if I did, and then we asked you and you said no, they'd be disappointed. Do you see?"

Scratchansniff snorted. "You are trying to manipulate me! Vakko and Dot vould hardly care–"

"Oh yeah, they would!" Yakko cried earnestly. "They really would! Haven't we told you a thousand times, Scratchy? We love you! If the sibs asked you to do something for Father's Day and you said no, it would make them sad, I know it would. I don't want them to be sad. So just tell me, Scratchy, will you come with us to the park for Father's Day on Sunday? If your answer is no, then I won't even mention it to the sibs."

Scratchansniff knew that if he failed to identify that as emotional manipulation, he might as well resign his post now. He huffed. "And you, Yakko? All right for you, iz it? You vould not be zad if I zed no?"

"Oh yeah, I'd be sad," Yakko replied easily. "But at least it would just be me."

He meant it. Scratchansniff knew that he meant it; there was no shred of deceit, no oiling of the words, no weaving of lies. It really rather took him aback. It was much too late in the evening to be thinking about this. It was much too late to be thinking about whether the Warners actually did feel fond of him, rather than just saying they did in order to frustrate him further. It was much too late to think about whether he had unwittingly become something of a father figure in their lives. It was much too late to reflect upon Yakko's surprising sweetness in trying to shield the younger two from potentially being rejected by said father figure.

But, he supposed, it wasn't too late to give an answer. In spite of his cynicism, in spite of his very well-founded paranoia about anything the Warners did, some spark of compassion replied.

"All right, Yakko. I zuppose a day in ze park vould not be too, uh, trialling."

Yakko's ears flew straight up and an excited grin flashed to life. "You mean it?! For Father's Day?!"

"Ja, okay. For Farzer's Day."

Yakko's whole frame stretched with joy. "Yaaaaaaaay!"

"Now, if you could just run along–ACK!"

Yakko had wrapped himself around the doctor once more, this time to plant a big kiss on his forehead. "Mmmm-MWAH! You won't regret it, Dr Scratchy!"

"Pleaze enzure I do not."

Yakko was beaming. Just when the doctor thought the night couldn't give him any more surprises, for a brief second the kid snuggled himself into the doctor's shoulder in what felt an awful lot like a genuine hug of affection, rather than the usual comical death-squeeze. But, having got what he wanted, Yakko did not stick around. He leaped down and bounded away with the sort of inexhaustible energy Dr Scratchansniff could only dream of.

Alone at last, Scratchansniff allowed himself to dwell, just for a moment, on the significance of this odd encounter. The Warners were only his patients, and they were the most frustrating and infuriating patients he'd ever had. They certainly weren't his children, in any way, shape or form. So why was it that, as he watched Yakko racing away across the darkened lot, it bothered him to see the kid going around alone at night? Why did he feel so strongly inclined to call out to Yakko, telling him to make sure he went straight home like a good boy?

He shook the thought away and, finally, slammed the door. Those kidses would be the end of him.