Boyd and Lydia always do work together. It's one of those things that makes them work. Boyd gets home from school earlier than she does on most days (something about her wanting to meet with her professors to consistently check-in with them about her grades) but he still waits until she's back at their apartment to get started on their respective assignments.
Lydia opens the door and finds Boyd sprawled on the floor next to the couch like he usually is, his Italian Renaissance Art textbook open, pages of notes surrounding him, and a yellow highlighter between his lips. "Hey," he says without looking up and Lydia rolls her eyes. It's like clockwork. "How was your—" he sits up and faces her, and the small girl whose hand she's holding, "—day. Uh, what's that?" He nods towards the kid, whose striking resemblance to Lydia makes him wince visibly.
"She is my niece. We're babysitting," she replies simply.
"You don't even… When was the last time you talked to your sister?" Boyd eyes the little girl when she tries to get onto the couch, then gives her a boost.
"This morning, when I picked her up. Obviously." Lydia hangs her jacket up behind the door, then sighs. "My sister's picking her up at 10—"
"At night?"
"—And I have things to keep her entertained. Try not to scare her or anything." He looks uneasy, touches his hands and picks at his nails. "Is there an issue, Boyd?"
"I'm not… I don't know if I like kids?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?" She crosses her arms over her chest and he looks even more uneasy than before.
"Telling?" He clears his throat. "Telling."
"You have younger sisters," she rolls her eyes.
"One, and she's my half-sister and I haven't seen her in fifteen years."
Boyd scoffs, looks up at the little girl who's staring back at him, then over at Lydia. "Does she have a name?"
"Ask her yourself," Lydia waves him off as she walks into the kitchen.
Boyd stares at the girl. She stares back. He blinks. She blinks. "Uh," he runs a hand over the top of his head and lets out a breath, "What's your name?"
"Izzy," she pipes up, then sticks her thumb in her mouth. "Can we watch Dora?"
Definitely a Martin, he thinks. If the green eyes and thick hair didn't give it away, the straightforward tone did. "We don't… uh." He turns to look at his textbook, a print of Sacred and Profane Love glaring back at him. "Lydia?" He calls.
"Deal with it," she answers.
Boyd looks back at Izzy, whose dead stare hasn't shifted. "We can… play a game?"
She shrugs, takes her thumb out of her mouth. "I wanna watch Dora."
"We don't have Dora."
"Why not?"
"Because we're in college," Boyd states matter-of-factly, like it's something a four-year old should know.
"What's that?" She points at the textbook.
"It's my book for school."
"D'you go to school with Aunt Lydi?" That's cute.
He nods and Lydia reappears. "Here, Izzy," she hands the little girl a plate with a sandwich on it and the girl scowls. "Don't make that face."
"I don't want it." She crosses her arms and it freaks Boyd out how much she looks like Lydia.
"Fine. But you're not getting cheese doodles until you eat it," Lydia whips around and put the plate back in the kitchen, then returns to them. Izzy whines and kicks her feet against the couch. "Isabel," Lydia warns, hands on her hips.
"C'mon, Lydia, just let her have the cheese doodles," Boyd sympathizes with the near-tantrum girl and Lydia shoots him a look that makes him want to cower in a corner. "Or… not."
"I want Mommy." The arms fall from her chest and her eyes soften from angry to sad. Lydia rolls her eyes and points to Boyd, then walks out of the room.
Shit. "Uh—" His phone vibrates in his pocket and it gives him an idea. "Hey, you like taking pictures?" Of course she does, she's a Martin. She nods, teary-eyed and her thumb back in her mouth. "Can I take a picture of you?" She nods again, bringing her thumb down and blinking slowly. Boyd holds his phone up, then moves it from his face. "You have to smile, though. I bet you have a pretty smile." She shakes her head for the first time and he gets up on the couch next to her. She looks up at him, green eyes glistening.
"Play Barbies with me," Izzy demands after a minute of the two of them staring at each other.
Boyd inhales sharply. "I don't really… play Barbies."
"Don't worry," she chirps, "I'll teach you."
Which is how Boyd ends up back on the floor, his work pushed back even further, wearing a pink crown. "Why do I have to be the princess again?"
Izzy huffs, the exasperated kind of huff Lydia always does when she gets fed up with her work. "'Cause bein' princess is easier than bein' prince. Now, shh!"
And that's exactly how Lydia finds them when she emerges from the other room ten minutes later. "Pink is definitely your color," she laughs when he turns around.
"Don't knock the crown. I'm Princess of…" He looks over to Izzy.
"Unicornia," she says without missing a beat.
"Unicornia," he repeats as he stands up and Lydia smiles, then kisses him. Izzy giggles, and Boyd pulls his crown off. "What's so funny, huh?" He grabs the little girl from the floor and lifts her into the air, to which she squeals wildly. Lydia raises an eyebrow. "What?"
She eyes him. "Nothing," she smiles and directs her attention to the clock on the wall. "It's time for dinner, honey." The girl wraps her arms around Boyd's neck and nods. "You have to let go of Boyd if you wanna eat, Izzy."
"It's fine," he shrugs, "She can sit on my lap." Boyd smiles at the little girl, who rests her head in the crook of his neck.
Izzy has an extremely simple pallet, Boyd realizes. Most four-year-olds do. He recalls his little sister rejecting anything that wasn't macaroni and cheese or peanut butter and jelly. "I don't want it," she pushes at her plate, having eaten the chicken nuggets and ignoring the broccoli. Boyd's leg had gone numb about ten minutes after the first time she refused the vegetable.
"Then, you're not getting dessert." The simple statement from Lydia causes a standoff at the table.
"Uh," Boyd pipes up, "I have homework to finish… so…" He shifts the girl from his lap to the seat and heads back into the living room so as to avoid the Martin Family Staredown that had begun.
Somewhere between the ending of the analysis of Lamentation and his attempt to move onto The Creation of Adam, Izzy barrels out of the living room and springs onto the couch, kicking at Boyd's head with her small foot. She stops a moment, mutters, "I'm sleepy," then sticks her thumb into her mouth. Boyd half thinks, Thank God,but he also figures it means she should be going home soon, which might suck.
Before she can drift off, Lydia picks her up and takes her to the bathroom for a bath, Boyd assumes. They return a half hour later, Izzy still sucking on her thumb and wearing Little Mermaid pajamas (Of course Ariel's her favorite princess, Boyd thinks), her head on Lydia's shoulder. He gets up onto the couch, pushes his book to the side and smiles. His phone tells him it's almost nine and Lydia's sister is supposed to be by at ten and it makes him kind of sad that he won't be playing Barbies or taking selfies with a four-year-old for a while.
Lydia sits next to him, Izzy's arms wrapped around her neck, a fistful of red hair in her hand. He looks at her and thinks for a second that it might be nice to be a family and he smiles because of how Lydia's absentmindedly rubbing circles on Izzy's back, soothing her into sleeping long enough for her not to realize she has to leave.
Lydia's sister arrives a half hour later, and Boyd is definitely sad now. He's never met her sister, though and it's eerie how similar they are. "You must be Boyd," she says after Lydia's handed a now awake but not alert Izzy over and taken Boyd's hand. He nods, smiles then drops his eyes from her gaze. Lydia does that too, he notices; her eye contact never falters. "Lydia talks about you all the time. But," she eyes him and the tips of his ears redden, "It definitely hasn't done you justice."
"Thanks," he says quickly, then looks up. "Izzy's a sweetheart. You should bring her by more." Lydia squeezes his hand and smiles.
"I definitely will. She's never this tired around this time, so I guess she had fun." Izzy nods slowly, her eyes flicking over to Boyd's and he grins. "Say bye, Izzy." She waves to the two of them, and then clings to her mother's neck desperately. Boyd closes the door behind them and leans against it, watching Lydia intently as she walks toward him.
"Still don't like kids?" She asks after she wraps her arms around his neck.
He shrugs. "I dunno. I might need more time with Izzy. Other kids, too." He kisses her softly and smiles. "Like, our own kids? In the future."
"I'll think about it," Lydia grins and pulls her arms from around his neck. "We should probably finish college first, though."
She gives him another kiss and walks away and he can't help but smile to himself. He doesn't know why, but he does. And he kind of really wants to babysit Izzy again.