Mikleo loved his little sister dearly, but by god, could she be frustrating.

It was normal for young children who had lost a parent to cling to older siblings and other authority figures, Mikleo's therapist had told him. After their father died, it was hard for all of them – hard for Mikleo, harder still for his mother, and so confusing for Maddy, barely old enough to know him, and certainly not old enough to process the chaos going on around her. They'd moved in with his uncle, then; not to save money (Mikleo's mother brought in plenty of that at the hospital), but to try and provide some form of stability.

Which, in retrospect, was a laughable concept. Uncle Michael was a successful travel writer and gave anthropology and archaeology lectures at universities across the country, but travelling through ancient temple sites and exploring the deepest jungles did not prepare him in any way for suddenly becoming co-caretaker to two children reeling from loss. Mikleo didn't even see him most days – when he wasn't locked in his study at home, he was locked in his office at the local university. Mikleo took a few courses there to take advantage of the free tuition for family members, and often saw a crowd of students waiting outside his door; trying in vain to make him adhere to his posted office hours. Mikleo had seen him out of his study at home all of once in the past few months – it was 3AM, Mikleo wandered into the kitchen to get a granola bar, and Uncle Michael was sitting on the floor in pink sweatpants eating directly from the ice cream tub with a wooden kitchen spoon.

They locked eyes for a long moment.

"Don't tell your mother I stole her pants," Uncle Michael said, finally.

With Uncle Michael the equivalent of a raccoon living in the walls as far as appropriate babysitters for young children went, Mikleo's mother had to hire out the job of caring for Maddy. Mikleo tried to watch her whenever he could, but he had so much going on, with studying, extra courses, extracurricular clubs, flute practice…well, maybe he should stop calling the kettle black with Uncle Michael. He himself was hardly better.

Though he at least used a goddamn bowl like a civilized human.

Maddy was a "bright and imaginative" child, according to her kindergarten and first grade report cards. Reading between the lines, it also meant she was a handful with a steamroller will. She went through her babysitters like tissue paper; all to make sure that her "Mickey Mouse" knew that he was her number one babysitter, and none would ever come close.

It was sweet. It was flattering, almost. But god, why was this babysitter next on the chopping block?

He was about Mikleo's age, with chocolate-brown hair and shining green eyes and tan skin. He was pushing six foot and looked like he could lift Mikleo above his head with only one arm. He was just about everything Mikleo daydreamed about during dull moments at band practice, and he was about to get chased away by a wolverine in a purple tutu. With his skinny, shrimpy body and quiet demeanor, Mikleo knew that this Sorey guy was already completely out of his league – and he probably already had a boyfriend, or girlfriend. But Mikleo could've at least had the opportunity to stare at him hopelessly out his bedroom window, if Maddy didn't have it in her head that she needed to destroy every babysitter thrown at her.

There was a wolverine at his bedroom door. Mikleo arched an eyebrow at her devious little smile.

"Sorey and me and mama want to get ice cream," Maddy said, airily. "I know Mickey Mouse wants it too."

Mikleo had finished up with his flute lesson. More like he'd finished disappointing his tutor, completely unable to follow the music after being so completely distracted by the ridiculously hot babysitter sitting in his living room. He had homework to do, and didn't exactly want to know what Maddy was planning to pull in a public ice cream shop to make Sorey run off.

"Maddy, that's nice of you, but I-"

"HE WANTS ICE CREAM!" Maddy said, much more firmly. She marched into his room and seized his wrists, trying in vain to physically wrest him from his seat. Feet planted firmly, she slowly began to slide under his chair. "HE WANTS TO COME WITH US!"

To prevent Maddy from turning further into some sort of Gollum-esque creature, Mikleo rose to his feet. Maddy's grip remained on his wrists, and she kicked her feet in the air petulantly.

"I'll loan Mickey a tutu," she said. "He'll look pretty."

Maybe if Mikleo came with, he could do damage control on whatever she had planned. He hoped.