Who and What Art Thou~
Abigail Lincoln swung open the red front door of her home and was greeted by two pearly white rows of teeth. "What's up, Buttercup?" He was older. Thinner. Undeniably cuter. But, he still had an affinity for playing on words. Abby didn't know if she'd ever fully get over that. Still, she found herself wondering how he managed to get his teeth that white.
"Does Abby look like a flower to you?" Annoyance tinted her voice.
He smirked and stuck his hands into pockets, leaning in to the dark skinned girl. "Do you want the answer I believe?"
"Man," she started, shaking her head, "wipe that stupid smile off your face and move over. Abby's leaving."
The owner of such perfect teeth, one Hoagie P. Gilligan Jr., simply smiled larger. "Ah, ah, ah." He grabbed Abby's arm and pulled her back to face him. "I am taking you out. Why? You may ask. Because I'm the best boyfriend ever."
"Sorry lover boy," Abby replied while wiggling out of his grasp, "I've gotta babysit." She began walking down the front porch steps leaving the auburn-haired boy standing near the door.
Only seconds later, another set of footsteps sounded close behind hers. "But, Abby, I'm bored," Hoagie whined.
She glanced at him over a blue covered shoulder. "Well, Abby guesses you'll just have to go hang out with Wally or something. It isn't my day to occupy ya," Abby stated.
Hoagie jogged a few steps to catch up with Abby. His shook his head. "Nah, Wally is engaged in tongue battle with Kuki. It will probably be awhile." Again, he flashed his teeth in her direction. "So how many kids are we talking?"
The minute- no, the second- the door was opened, two small figures latched on to Abby's legs. "Abby!" the kids chorused. Abby ruffled the boy's hair before awkwardly shuffling out of the doorway. Hoagie followed her in.
"Hey, guys!" Abby greeted the little boy and girl. "Where's your mama?"
The mother, who entered the room just as the words left Abby's lips, was a slightly frazzled woman in her mid-30s. She looked exactly like your typical housewife. A baby was perched on her hip and chubby arms reached towards Abby. The mother passed her baby to Abby.
Hoagie watched in slight amazement as Abby took the child and held her close. The baby's flawlessly white skin differed drastically from Abby's chocolate arms and he couldn't help but think that the whole vision was kind of beautiful. And then, he saw the tiny fingers of the baby curl into the scooped neck of Abby's t-shirt. Hoagie could think of very few more intimate touches than that. This baby was claiming Abby; Abby belonged to the little girl clutched in her arms.
Embarrassing thoughts filled the head of the auburn-haired teenager. Thoughts about children that he may have in the future. Children that were hers but also his. Hoagie knew he was truly lucky to have Abby. She was everything he wasn't; calm, collected, cool. A perfect complement. "What're you looking at, fool?" Abby asked. A thin eyebrow disappeared beneath the rim of her cap.
A nervous laugh escaped Hoagie's throat. "N-nothing, Abby. Just nothing."
The pair, accompanied by the two preschoolers and the baby, followed the mother into the kitchen. "This is Hoagie," Abby said glancing back at him. "He practically begged me to let him come. Is it cool?"
The mother smiled and laughed. "Men." Abby grinned too. "That's perfectly fine, sweetie. And I won't be gone too long."
After kisses and hugs, she left. Gone to meet her husband for dinner in the city.
Dinner had been served, games played, baths given, and, now, of course, a story was being read. A perfect end to any child's day. Abby found she was surprised at how Hoagie had been. The kids liked Abby (their mother always said she was their favorite sitter), but they seemed to adore Hoagie. Maybe it was because he sat down with them at dinner and had Abby serve him too (earning giggles from the kids and a smack from her) or because he played three straight rounds of Candyland with them (Abby could never find the patience) or because he let them soak him to the bone during their bath (ain't gonna happen). The red-capped girl's heart swelled at the thought that he was hers. This boy that was charming and witty and forever so young.
"'I'm youth, I'm joy,' Peter answered at a venture," Abby read. She frowned slightly at these words and glanced over at Hoagie. Grace was splayed across his lap, uncontrollable giggles spilling from her mouth, as Hoagie made faces at her. He was youth, he was joy. "'I'm a little bird that has broken out of the egg.'"
"Peter Pan is so cool," Michael muttered sleepily, leaning up against the seventeen year old's leg.
And Abby was lucky enough to know a boy who, too, would never grow up.
A/N: Props to J.M. Barrie for the title and the Peter Pan stuff. I feel like this could've been longer, but the chopiness appeals to me and I sort of love the beginning. Whatever. I hadn't written 2/5 in a while so this is what ya get!