We Can Be a Family

Writer's note: My human!AU headcanon involves Calhoun being Vanellope's adopted mom and Brad being her father. It just works for me, for some reason. But as usual, Brad has died, leaving Cal to raise Van on her own and open to forming a relationship with Felix. This series of ficlets (that are out of chronological order) are about that. Cal and Van having an adorable parent/child broship, Felix befriending Cal, and also Van befriending Ralph (who is Felix's younger brother). Hope you enjoy my little ficlets of headcanon!

"I, President Von Schweetz, declare today…wait for…Butt Load of Frosting Day!" Vanellope declared to a row of candy-themed plushies lined across her bed. "Now-" She started pacing in front of her pretend citizens, "the plan is to liberate all the frosting from the kitchen."

Halting in front of a rainbow colored gummy bear and an oversized oreo cookie with googly eyes, she barked pointing a sparkly green baton at the plushies, "Sparky! Creamy! It's your jobs to be the look outs while I infiltrate the kitchen. Got it?!"

The plushies responded by staring straight ahead. Vanellope glared intimidatingly then nodded. "I'll take that as a yes. Move out, troops!"

Pressing herself against the wall, Vanellope snuck stealthily down the hallway. She peeked around the doorway leading into the living room, finding nothing stirring. The kitchen was just a few feet away. She tumbled onto her back and smoothly rolled into the kitchen, jumping to her socked feet as if she were a gymnast. She peeked around the fridge. Again, no sign of life.

Vanellope grinned, deviously. The frosting would be liberated easier than she thought.

Without a sound, she slide her socked feet on the tiled beige floor to the cupboard. She opened the door, reaching up; the frosting was so close she could taste its sweet goodness…

"Stealing rations, cadet?"

Vanellope groaned, spinning on her heel to face the slender, blonde enemy that had a good two and a half feet height advantage on her. "Awww! How'd you know?"

"I'm your mom, princess," Tamora countered, arching an elegant eyebrow. She bent down, clamped a hand on Vanellope's shoulder, and gave her the most intimidating look, "I know everything."

Vanellope huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Surely her mom didn't think the Look would work on her. "That's always your excuse, Sarge."

Tamora stood upright, grabbing for the container of vanilla frosting. "Instead of sneaking it back to your bedroom, why didn't you just ask?"

Vanellope rolled her eyes. Sarge must not have remembered what it was like to be a kid (or was she ever a kid? Vanellope wasn't convinced). Mischief was coded in all kids' DNA. Asking for permission was not. "Because that would of taken the fun out of liberating it. D'oy!"

"Too bad." Grabbing two spoons from the silverware drawer, Tamora jerked her chin to the bar on the far side of the island. "You know the rules. No food in your room. Now get your scrawny behind over here, princess, so I won't eat this whole thing by myself."

Vanellope's lips curled into a grin again. Sarge may have had rules and followed them strictly, but Vanellope knew she had a pretty cool mom.