Hi everyone! Here we are with a series of tiny one-shots about the Guster kids and their strange, loving, psych-o enlarged family: so cheesy, I know, but I'm sure some of you long for good fuzzy feelings as much as me. Beware, the couples would be Shassie and Gules, so I threw canon out of the window. I'm working also on the story about Jules and Gus' son's birth (you really thought it would be all simple and normal? Ah, such dreamers!), but I prefer preparing some chapters before publishing. There would be a lot of Hurt/Comfort, but basically it would be a study of Carlton and Juliet's friendship, as to say, one of the most touching links I've ever seen in a TV show. For now, I hope you'll enjoy these little slices of life.
And yes, I called him Tim exactly for the reason you're thinking about.
Probably Weird, Never Disarmed
Tim Guster knew there was something weird in his family; not creepy-weird like Uncle Shawn's Halloween costumes, but more a easy, cheery weird like Dad's chocolate-bacon cookies. For example, the fact that was Daddy doing almost all the cooking. Yes, Mom could prepare a real face of fruit on the muesli, with banana slices as eyes and all the rest, but it's Dad who cooked dinner and set up his lunch box for the school. Mom could do a lot of awesome things, but cooking was not one of them. The Thanksgiving turkey was proof of it.
And that was another strange thing; many kids at school had a cop parent, but Tim had a cop Mom: it was Dad who put them to bed when she hadn't come home yet, and sprang on his feet when a police car stopped in front of home. She was a detective, the one that "beats up the bad guys", as Uncle Shawn said, and this was cool because his friends gasped every time she arrived at school with the handcuffs; but it made him angry when they asked if she put him in prison per punishment. They didn't understand that she was also the best Mom in the world: they didn't understand how sweet she was when helping him with homework, or that she was the one who bought them the jelly bears after the doc and gave them the Fear Festival tickets as soon as the posters arrived in city. They didn't understand that she had a wardrobe full of pointy shoes and fluffy stuff just like their moms, and that his dad too took a zillion of photos on his first day of school.
His parents did everything parents were supposed to do; only, they did it in their way.
-But that's strange.- Bobby Anderson objected at the canteen, freckled cheeks full of mashed potatoes. -There are girl things and boy things, everyone knows that. My mom said that those gender confusions are what is wrecking California.-
Tim furrowed his brow, not stopping eating his muffin. -My Mom catches bad guys, my Dad...well, he fixes everything and makes people feel better; to me California seems just fine.-
-It's not what I mean.- Bobby squirmed, clearly in a tight spot. Tim smirked, Nobody messes with the Gusters.
-I just, I just said that it's not how it works.-
-But it works.-
Bobby squinted, frantically looking for a snarky remark. One second, two, and a triumphant smile split his lips. -Well, what about your uncles?- he snarled, looking around for support. -You know, they really are odd.- A choir of not-compromising comments rose around the table.
Meanwhile, Bobby had kept using that big mouth of his. -...I mean, they're two men: it can't be normal, or at least my dad said so.-
Tim swallowed pensively his bite, thinking about the two men he knew from the first day of his life. They were definitively odd: he was pretty sure no other uncle in his school did B-movie Marathons with Uncle Shawn's passion, or owned a collection of fake mustaches like Uncle Carlton; and he was pretty sure no other uncle lived with, or kissed, another man. But for him, it was just how the world worked, one of the things that kept Tim's world spinning in the proper way: if his uncles wouldn't bicker and kiss and laugh anymore, well, something would be really wrong.
He talked a lot about them, but mostly about the pranks Uncle Shawn tried on his Dad or the afternoons he and Uncle Carl spent playing Civil War; what they were together was just one of those things you saw so many times you didn't notice it, and at the same time should always be here. Part of life.
And like most of weird things, it felt perfectly right.
Tim put down his dessert, considering his options. He could try to gently persuade Bobby and then, if not working, scare him to hell, just like his mom; or dazzled him with some gruesome Scientific discovers, as his father would do; or listen to Uncle Shawn and finally reveal that yeah, he knew Bobby wet the bed up to seven.
But in the end, he opted for Uncle Carlton's advise. Mess up with the suspect and retire with style.
Tim got up, picking up his tray.
-Yeah, you may be right, Bobby.- He leaned forward, wolfish grin on his lips.
-But one of my uncles wears a gun.-