A/N: I actually started writing this a while ago, back in December. But I got distracted with other projects (mainly Mall Rats and TCRS), and I kind of forgot about it. Then a couple weeks ago I noticed that Father's Day was right around the corner, so I figured it was as good a time as ever to finish it and submit it.

So... Happy Father's Day!

Lincoln sighed as he flipped through Ace Savvy #30 for the seventh time that morning. It was one of those rare Saturdays when he had managed to get all his homework done the day before, which was great, but the downside was that he was left with nothing to do. He'd already beaten all his video games, Ronnie Anne had just moved away, and his best friend Clyde was with his dads at a Trump resistance rally.

He half-expected one of his sisters to come barging into his room demanding a favor, but the usually cacophanous halls of the Loud House were now eerily quiet. Lincoln idly wondered how this could be the case, but he couldn't be bothered to investigate. Fortunately, the answer came directly to him, in the form of his father lightly rapping on the door.

"Hey, champ. Can I come in?"

Lincoln sighed. "Sure."

Lynn Sr. creaked open the door and deftly slipped into Lincoln's room. "So, I don't know if you've been told this, but your mother's treating your sisters to an all-day spa session today."

Lincoln raised an eyebrow at his father. "Including Lana?"

"She insisted on coming when she heard that they give mud baths."

"And Lynn?"

"Her baseball coach said that she's too stiff, so she's getting a massage to help her loosen up."

"And Luna?"

"She pulled a muscle carrying one of her amps."

"And Lucy?"

"She likes to lock herself in the sauna and pretend she's getting tortured."

Lincoln rolled his eyes. That sounded like Lucy, all right.

"Point is, from now 'til the evening we've got the house to ourselves. Thought we could take advantage of it, you know? Have a little father-son time?"

Lincoln stifled a groan. The only thing worse than a Saturday spent doing nothing was a Saturday spent with his dorky dad.

"Sure thing," he lied. "Just lemme finish this comic and I'll be right down."

Lynn Sr.'s face fell. "S...sure thing, son," he muttered, knowing full well that Lincoln was blowing him off. Before slumping out, he looked back and took one solemn glance at the comic Lincoln was reading. He could've sworn he had seen him reading it before.

...wait...

"Lincoln, could I take a look at that comic, please?"

Lincoln gulped and tentatively handed it over. The Ace Savvy series was technically rated 13+, and he'd be in a bit of trouble if his dad flipped to page 42.

After taking the comic, Lynn Sr. just looked over the cover a few times, furrowing his brow as he did.

"W...what's wrong?" Lincoln asked, expecting the worst.

Lynn Sr. turned the comic toward Lincoln and pointed at Ace Savvy's bare wrist.

"I'm just wondering why Ace Savvy isn't wearing the Bracelet of Pai Gow. That's where he gets half his powers from!"

Lincoln sighed with relief. "Oh! He had it stolen by the Suicide King when he was unconscious. He's been trying to track him down ever since."

"Oh, well, of course he did," Lynn Sr. said with a chuckle. "Guy's a master detective but he can't hold onto a bracelet for more than ten issues. Well, I'll see you downstairs!"

But just as Lynn Sr. was reaching for the doorknob, he heard Lincoln call out to him. "Wait!"

Lynn Sr. spun back around to face his son. "Yes?"

"I was just... how did you know about, you know, the bracelet?"

Lynn Sr. let out a hearty laugh. "You think you're the first one in this family to discover Ace Savvy?" he asked. "Please. Ace's been an idol of mine since I was your age!"

By now, Lincoln's formerly weary eyes were bursting open, and an ever-growing smile was forming on his face. He closed his comic book, set it down on his nightstand, scooted over to one side of his bed and invited his father to take a seat next to him. "Tell me more!"

Lynn Sr. proceeded to regale Lincoln with all the cheesy Ace Savvy storylines from the 70's and 80's, and all the embarrassing plot contrivances and writing missteps that went with them: retcons, new powers as the plot demanded, ridiculously gimmicky villains, and ham-fisted attempts at political commentary.

"…and then One-Eyed Jack just reset the timeline?!" Lincoln cackled. "You're kidding me! How could they get away with that?!"

"That's just the way comics were back then," Lynn Sr. said with a shrug. "It's what comic fans like to call an 'Ass Pull'. Don't use that phrase around your mother, though, or she'll know that you got it from me."

"Sure thing," Lincoln said with a snicker.

"Anyway… speaking of your mother, I promised her that you'd get at least a little exercise today," Lynn Sr. said, eliciting a groan from Lincoln.

"I know, I know, it's not your favorite thing in the world, but it'll be good for you. How 'bout we steal one of Lynn's baseballs and we'll play a round of catch?"

Lincoln sighed and picked himself up off the bed. "Okay, dad," he muttered.

"And hey, maybe afterwards you can show me one of those video games of yours!"

Lincoln broke into another smile as he slid into Lynn and Lucy's room and started snooping around. Maybe his old man wasn't as lame as he let on.

After finding Lynn's glove and baseball under her pillow, he snatched them up and bounded downstairs to meet his father. The glove was a little tight on him (Lynn had noticeably small hands for her age, a fact that he loved to rib her about), but he figured that it wouldn't be a problem. When he reached the backyard, he saw Lynn Sr. waiting for him at the other end, holding his gloved hand over his head.

"All right, Linc! Gimme a good throw!"

Lincoln reared back and hurled the baseball… which traveled about five feet before hitting the ground and rolling over toward his father. Lynn Sr. let a barely audible, "Oh, boy," escape his lips as he walked over to pick up the ball.

"Sorry, dad," Lincoln squeaked. "I tried, I really did. But you know I'm no good at sports."

"No, it's fine, Linc!" called Lynn Sr., running over to console his son. "You just haven't been taught how to throw yet. There's a lot more to it than you think there is."

He dropped the ball into Lincoln's gloved hand. "Here, let me show you a few tricks that Pop-Pop taught me. First, you gotta get into the right throwing position."

He planted his feet shoulder width apart, with his knees slightly bent and his glove held near his chest. "Like this."

Lincoln mimicked his father's stance the best he could. "How's this?"

"Perfect! Now try throwing."

Lincoln went for another throw, only for Lynn Sr. to grab his wrist mid-way.

"Ah, THERE'S the other problem. Take a look at the way you're gripping the ball."

Lincoln was pinching the ball between his thumb and forefinger, leaving his other three fingers hanging out to the side.

"See, that's no good. It'll just slip out of your grasp if you hold it like that. You have to hold it like this."

Lynn Sr. grabbed the baseball and held it firmly in his palm.

"See the way my index and middle fingers are wrapped around the seams?"

Lincoln scratched his chin. "Huh… I always thought the seams were just for decoration."

Lynn Sr. had to stifle a laugh, though he knew his son wasn't trying to be funny. "No, they're definitely there for a reason. Here, try it yourself."

Lincoln took the ball from his dad and wrapped his fingers tight around the seams. "Like this?"

"Yeah, but loosen up a little. You want to grip the ball, not strangle it."

Lincoln let out a nervous giggle and loosened his grip ever so slightly. "Better?"

"Much better. Now give it a throw!"

With a new feeling of confidence, Lincoln reared back, thrust his arm forward and let the ball fly from his hand. The ball still didn't quite reach the other end of the backyard, but it traveled about twice as far as his first attempt.

"All right, you're getting there," said Lynn Sr. "Your wrist is still a little stiff, though…"

After a few more tries, and a few more pointers from his dad, Lincoln's throwing technique had improved immensely.

"All right, let's try again. Throw me a pass!"

Lincoln gave the baseball a good, hardy throw, which sailed in an arc across the backyard and directly into Lynn Sr.'s gloved hand.

"Good throw!" his father called. "Now let's see how well you can catch!"

Lynn Sr. promptly took a step forward and hurled the ball forward. In an act that surprised both his father and himself, Lincoln's gloved hand jerked itself into the path of the ball and snatched it out of the air.

"Incredible!" cried Lynn Sr. "Why didn't you tell me you could catch like that, Lincoln?!"

"I-I didn't know I could," said Lincoln, staring at the ball in disbelief. "I guess it just comes naturally to me."

Lincoln's guess was only half right. Growing up in the chaotic halls of the Loud house, Lincoln was used to having things thrown at him: baseballs from Lynn ("Heads up!"), mud clods from Lana, pies to the face from Luan. Catching was a skill he picked up out of necessity.

"You know, you'd make a mighty good outfielder with a catching arm like that," said Lynn Sr. "Maybe you should sign up for the baseball team!"

Lincoln chuckled and scratched the back of his head. "I'll consider it," he said, a little apprehensive about the idea after his ill-fated stint in football.

The father and son spent the next hour or so darting around the backyard, hurling the ball back and forth with near-seamless rhythm. The two of them were so in sync, it was almost as if they were performing a choreographed dance. Very rarely did either of them botch a throw, miss a catch or drop the ball.

That said, it wasn't long before both of them started to get winded: Lynn Sr. because of his age, and Lincoln because he wasn't used to exercising. Lincoln made one more catch before bending down to catch his breath, dropping the ball in the process.

"Wanna take a break, champ?" asked Lynn Sr.

"S-sure, dad," said Lincoln in between gasps.

"Well, all right then. Come inside and I'll make you some lunch."

A self-satisfied smile formed on Lincoln's face as he and his dad walked back inside. If only Lynn Jr. was home to see what just transpired; no doubt she'd feel a new level of respect for her scrawny little brother.

After going to Lynn and Lucy's room to put the baseball back where he found it, he came down to the kitchen to find his father cracking an egg into a frying pan.

"Eggs for lunch?" asked Lincoln, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't eggs a breakfast thing?"

Lynn Sr. looked over his shoulder and smirked. "Well, first of all, it's never a bad time for a fried egg," he said. "Second of all, the egg's only part of the meal here. Take a look over there."

He pointed towards the toaster oven, where two frozen waffles were inside cooking.

"I figured that now's a good a time as ever to treat you to a Lynn Loud original," he said as he watched the egg, waiting for the whites to set and the yolk to thicken. "See, when I entered my junior year of college, I started living off-campus in an apartment. It was the first time I really felt like I was living independently."

Once the egg was ready, he flipped it over and let the other side cook.

"But I didn't really have any recipes under my belt, and going down to the dining hall was a bit of a hassle. So a lot of the time, making meals was a matter of taking whatever you could find in the fridge and slapping it together."

Before long, the toaster oven went ding, signifying that the waffles were ready. Lynn Sr. took them out, piled them onto a plate, grabbed a bottle of syrup from the pantry and drizzled it onto each waffle.

"I came up with this one night when my roommates and I were getting sto-… erm, that is, stone-cold ready for an upcoming exam," he said. "I call it the Lynnwich!"

With that, he picked up a spatula, flipped the egg onto one of the waffles, and slapped the other one on top.

Lincoln stared at the culinary concoction in total awe, as if he had just witnessed some groundbreaking scientific discovery.

"That… that is the coolest thing I've ever seen you cook."

Lynn Sr. donned a prideful smirk as he cut the Lynnwich in half. "Let's not start heaping on the praise just yet," he said. "You haven't even tried it."

He handed one half to Lincoln, who promptly took a big bite. He tasted a delectable sweet-and-savory waterfall of egg yolk and syrup cascading down his throat, packaged together with a satisfying crunch from the toaster waffles. He would never, ever criticize his father's cooking repertoire ever again.

"This is great!" Lincoln cried as he dug into the rest of the meal. "You've gotta make these for dinner one of these days."

"Eh, we'll see," said Lynn Sr. "Not so sure if your mother would approve of that."

With that, the two of them polished off their slices, savoring every morsel, and then wiped their faces clean and cleared their places.

"So, what now?" asked Lincoln. "Another round of catch?"

Lynn Sr. pointed to the game console set up in front of the TV. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to show me one of those video games of yours!"

Lincoln's face lit up. He had almost forgotten that his dad had expressed an interest in seeing one of his games earlier, but he was more than happy to oblige. Without a second thought, he walked Lynn Sr. over to the couch, sat him down, and switched on the console.

In retrospect, he should have checked to see what game he left in the console before turning it on. Once he saw the loading screen boot up, he realized that it was Vampire Fortress, a T-rated horror adventure game whose violent content skirted dangerously close to M-rated levels. Once again, Lincoln feared that he could be in trouble. His fear intensified once he looked over at Lynn Sr., who had his brow furrowed and his hand brushing his chin.

But Lincoln couldn't turn the game off now; that would just arouse even more suspicion. All he could do was try to act natural.

"I've already beaten most of this," he said. "There's just one stone I've left unturned."

"And what would that be?" asked Lynn Sr.

"Here, I'll show you."

Lincoln loaded up a save file, and a moment later the screen displayed the game's protagonist- an armor-clad effeminate blonde man with two studded gauntlets adorning his fists- standing in front of a massive, ten-story stone fortress. Lincoln entered the fortress, and lead his character through it until he came to a dark, secluded room.

"There's an achievement for making it through Nosferatu's Trial without using a continue," explained Lincoln. "No matter what I try, I can't seem to finish it with just five lives."

"Mmm-hmm," said Lynn Sr. "Hey, Lincoln, do you mind if I try something?"

Lincoln gave his father a befuddled look. "Try something?"

"Yeah, I think I know something that could help you. Just a hunch."

Lincoln's first instinct was to wonder what his old man could possibly know about a game he'd never even seen before. Regardless, he figured there was no harm in humoring him just this once. Worst case scenario, he'd just have to reset.

"Um… sure, here you go."

Lincoln handed the controller over to Lynn Sr. After eyeing the controller for a moment or two, he started pushing a seemingly random combination of buttons, causing the character to jerk around spasmodically.

Oh, good lord, what on earth is he doing?, thought Lincoln.

But it wasn't long before Lincoln got his answer. Lynn Sr. finished the combination with a whack of the start button, the game made a high-pitched blip noise, and the lives counter in the upper left hand corner shot up from a paltry 5 to a whopping 99. Lincoln's jaw fell slack, and his eyes popped at least an inch out of their sockets.

"I knew it!" cried Lynn Sr., handing his son the controller back. "No need to thank me, son."

"I… wha… guh… you…"

All Lincoln could do was babble like a buffoon as he struggled to wrap his head around what just transpired, prompting a snicker from his father.

"You… that… when… how did you do that?!" he finally spat out.

Lynn reclined back on the couch and threw his hands behind his head. "The title screen tipped me off. As soon as I saw that the game was developed by Kayota, I knew they'd work in the Kayota code somewhere."

Lincoln put down the controller and looked over at Lynn Sr., eyeing him with intrigue. "The Kayota code?"

"A, A, B, B, Right, Left, Right, Left, Down, Up, Start. Punch it in and you get maxed out lives. They've been doing it since their big break in the 80's with the release of Insurgence."

An enchanted grin broke out across Lincoln's face. "But… but how do you know all this?! Since when do you play video games?!"

Lynn Sr. chuckled. "'Since when do I play video games,' he says. Linc, when I was your age, I'd spend hours blowing my allowance at the arcade. I was the first kid on my block to beat Mighty Kid without using the Iron Gear!"

Lincoln only had a passing knowledge of Mighty Kid, but the feat sounded mighty impressive by the way Lynn Sr. described it. "I… wow. I guess there's a lot about you that I don't know."

Having finally regained his composure, he picked the controller back up and marched headfirst into Nosferatu's Lair. "But thanks, dad."

And so, he powered through the dungeon, pounding and pulverizing the hordes of vampiric mooks that stood in his way. He ran into a bit of trouble once he got to Nosferatu himself, but with a few helpful pointers from his old man ("Don't aim for where he is; aim for where he's going!"), he slew the monster once and for all, with 84 lives to spare. Lincoln's heart swelled with satisfaction as he saw the "achievement unlocked" notification appear at the bottom of the screen.

Having finally earned a hundred percent completion, Lincoln saved the game, turned off the console and collapsed onto the couch, heaving out a triumphant sigh as he landed. For the next few minutes, the two of them just laid back and basked in their victory.

Once that passed, Lincoln opted to ask his father a question that had been on his mind since the day began.

"Hey, dad?" he asked. "How come you never told me you knew about all that stuff?"

Lynn Sr. turned his head towards him. "What do you mean, 'all that stuff'?"

"Like, that stuff about comic books, and baseball, and junk food and video games. Why is this the first time I'm hearing about this treasure trove of knowledge you have?"

Lynn Sr. sighed and looked away from Lincoln, staring pensively into space. He still kept his smile, but his eyes betrayed a twinge of sadness. "Well, son, there comes a time in a man's life when he has to put all of those things aside. It's part of growing up and becoming a dad."

Lincoln's smile evaporated, as the realization set in that he, too, would have to leave those things behind him one day.

"Now, it's my job to earn a living and provide for you, so that you can have a happy childhood just like I did."

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over Lincoln: an overwhelming cocktail of gratitude, sentimentality and lingering guilt. Tears started to form in his eyes.

"Do you… do you ever wish you could go back?" asked Lincoln. "Go back to being a kid, reading comics and playing games?"

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't," said Lynn Sr.

He then scooted closer to Lincoln on the couch, draped his arm around him and pulled him in close. "But you and the girls are more than worth that sacrifice. You're the best eleven things that have ever happened to me."

All the guilt in Lincoln's system dissolved, leaving him with a feeling of all-encompassing warmth. He wrapped his arms around Lynn Sr. and snuggled his face up against his chest, as fresh tears continued to fall. "Thanks, dad."

The father and son gave themselves a bit of time to sit together in each others' arms, before Lynn Sr. left Lincoln with one final thought:

"I've had eighteen years of my life to be a kid. Now it's your turn."

It was then that Lynn Sr.'s cell phone started ringing. With some reluctance, he released the embrace, picked up the phone and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hi, honey, it's Rita. The girls and I are on our way home."

"Already? But it's only 3:00."

Rita sighed. "We got kicked out after Lana got in a mud fight with a masseuse."

Lynn Sr. heard a cry of, "She started it!" in the background, eliciting a chuckle from him.

"Ah, that's my Lana," he said. Normally, he'd be at least a little peeved with her, but he was just in too good a mood.

"Anyway, I'll see you in a bit," said Rita. "By the way, you're handling dinner tonight, right? It's Succotash Saturday."

Lynn Sr. looked over at Lincoln and gave him a grin and a wink. "Actually, there's a different recipe I was thinking of trying out..."