ASOIAF: Modern!AU
Maybe You Could Call Me Dad…?
Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.
Summary: With Theon away for the weekend, Robb spends some quality time with his new step-son.
He woken by small hands shoving at his shoulder and a quiet, familiar voice pleading, "Wake up, wake up, Robb…" He sounded anxious, and that had Robb afraid the moment he realized Lonny was trying to wake him up. Gently, Robb pushed away the boy's hands and eased himself up off his nice, warm (and kind of lonely) bed with a groan. Sitting up, Robb looks down at the four year old standing beside the bed, clad in one of Theon's old band tees, which hangs past his knees, and a pair of baggy, sea life themed pajama pants. One of his socks is missing again as well. In general, the boy looks shabby and almost frail. His nervous expression doesn't help matters.
"Lonny," Robb yawns. "What's wrong? Is Nasreen crying or something?" He asks. The boy shakes his head and looks at his feet guiltily. Robb has a sinking feeling in his gut. "What did you do?" He asks, dreading the answer. Lonny looks up, bottom lip trembling. "I spilled all the milk!" He confesses, and Robb is torn between sighing in relief and chuckling. He stands up, shivering at the coldness of the floor, and picks the boy up and balances him on his hip. Lonny looks at him with surprise (which is no wonder, because Robb's rarely very affectionate with the boy) and asks, sniffling, "I'm not in trouble?" Robb shakes his head. "You're not in trouble—and there's no need to cry over spilled milk either. Just show me the mess, okay?" Lonny nods timidly as Robb puts him back on the floor and takes his hand.
Lonny leads him into the kitchen, which is the only part of the house with a light on at this early hour, and Robb is expecting the kitchen island to have a puddle of milk sitting there from the failed efforts of a bowl of cereal. What he finds is the kitchen island, counters, and floor soaked with the white liquid. The kitchen island is also littered with the makings of a five-star breakfast. A carton of eggs, the milk, a package of bacon, a box of pancake mix, the waffle maker, a mixing bowl, measuring cups, and spoons all sat there. Upon closer inspection, Robb finds the mixing bowl filled already with pancake mix and two eggs. One of the measuring cups is wet with milk.
Robb is surprised to find the mix spilled anywhere (except just a dusting on the counter near the box) and the egg yoke is firmly inside the bowl, and egg shells sitting in the garbage. Lonny simply seemed to have hit a snag with pouring the milk all by him self. Robb looked at the boy standing at the kitchen doorway, looking guilty.
"Were you trying to make pancakes?" He asked. Lonny shook his head furiously.
"Waffles." He whispered. Of course, Robb thought, looking at the waffle maker on the island. Waffles.
He sighed and crouched down before Lonny, who seemed ready to be yelled at any moment. "Lonny, you shouldn't try and cook all by your self. You're too little and could burn the house down. Why didn't you just make a bowl of cereal?" He asked, and Lonny looked down at his feet for a moment.
"Because it's Sunday."
Robb looked at Lonny with confusion at first, but then it struck him. Theon made breakfast for the whole family on Sunday. Waffles, to be specific, with bacon and eggs. But this weekend, Theon was with the rest of the Greyjoy family, visiting to shut his dad up, having left them all behind to save them from Balon's sneers and Theon's creepy uncles. Lonny was just trying to do what his dad usually did.
"Lonny," Robb spoke softly, brushing the boy's shaggy dark hair away from his eyes. "You didn't have to do all this. I would have made us all breakfast." For a moment, Lonny just looked at him with wide dark eyes. "Even me?" He asked, and Robb felt suddenly the worst human-being to walk the earth.
He knew it! He knew Lonny could sense it the whole time! Ever since the boy moved in with them months ago, Robb had just known Lonny thought Robb didn't like him—but no, Theon assured him no four year old was that perceptive! Wherever Theon was right now, Robb hoped Balon Greyjoy was nearby.
Robb looked at Lonny guiltily. Now, it wasn't as if Robb didn't like Lonny. It was just…Lonny wasn't his. He was Theon's…Theon's with some girl he met at a bar five years ago almost when the two of them were still just best friends who insisted they were not a gay-couple to people who asked. Well, you could imagine Robb's anguish when almost a year after that one night stand, just after he and Theon got together, a strange woman comes out of nowhere demanding child-support for her newborn son.
And so the four year nightmare began where Robb struggled constantly with knowing that those weekend Theon couldn't see him were because he was off spending time with his son, that those checks Theon signed at the breakfast table would be sent to the woman who raised his son, and that every time Theon opened his wallet, a picture of a smiling baby boy stared back at him.
And then, six months ago, Theon was awarded full-custody of his son, just after they brought home Nasreen, and Robb still couldn't bring himself to see Lonny as just as much his kid as Nasreen was.
"Of course I'd make you breakfast, Lonny." Robb said. "I'd make you breakfast everyday if you liked." He added, and Lonny smiled shyly at him through his shaggy hair. Robb messed it up even further, making a mental note to schedule the boy a haircut before pre-school started in a few weeks. "Come on, let's clean this up. And then we'll finish making those waffles, kay?" Lonny nodded his head, smiling brightly.
It takes a lot of paper towels, some elbow grease, and half an hour, but they clean up the kitchen and finish making breakfast. Robb goes wakes up Nasreen and puts her in her high chair and pours a couple handfuls of cheerios before her. He and Lonny sit at breakfast table, stacks of syrupy waffles and mountains of bacon and eggs before them. They make sure to save a plate for Theon when he gets back that afternoon.
They eat in a companionable silence, him and Lonny, with Nasreen's cooing and Greywind chewing of his own bacon strips on the floor filling the air. Lonny smiles at him and laughs suddenly. "You have syrup all over your face, Robb!" He giggles and Robb's hand goes to his stubbly chin, and sure enough, it's sticky. He grabs a napkin and starts wiping himself off while Lonny laughs.
When he's cleaned up, he clears his throat and says, "You know, you don't have to call me Robb all the time…" and Lonny stops laughing and looks at him.
"What should I call you?" He asks, and Robb shrugs. "Anything you like…But…may be you could call me Dad…?" He looks at Lonny nervously, and the boy seems to be contemplating the proposition, with his chin in his hand, looking up at the ceiling, and everything. Finally, he nods and smiles. "That sounds fine." He says simply before digging back into his waffles cheerily.
And Robb is left thinking that maybe, just maybe, one day he could call Lonny his son, too.
A/N: This is a spin-off of another story of mine "Fawn". Hope you enjoyed, please review, and please check out "Fawn".