A/N: Ridiculous amounts of Tobecky fluff await thee.
Thanks to BookishOwl, Lily, Post It Out, Turtle777, and both Guests for your reviews!
Chapter Ten:
A Fine Line
(Psst! Listen for the words amiable and adamant)
"Last time, on WordGirl, Tobey and Becky were forced to participate in a group project together. Which, normally, would be a cause for concern, but…."
The camera zoomed down to focus on Tobey's robot strolling through the city. The two kids sat on opposite shoulders, lost in thought. Becky had made a few attempts at small talk earlier, but he had only given her short answers, so she gave up on the idea.
"…Well, they haven't argued yet. That's a start."
They soon arrived outside her house. The robot held out its hand to the shoulder Tobey had been sitting on and he stepped onto it. He pushed another button and the hand swung to the shoulder Becky was on, jolting the boy genius a little in the sudden movement. Smacking his remote, he glared back at his robot, grumbling something under his breath about malfunctioning.
He peeked at Becky over his shoulder. "There's something going on with my robut. I meant to have its other hand lower you down. But—" He pushed a button on his remote experimentally. Nothing happened. "It's not working for some reason. So we'll have to be lowered together."
She furrowed her eyebrows at him, and almost asked why he didn't just have his robot lower them separately, but his solemn expression made her reconsider. If she had asked, he would only get irritated, and this was a lot faster than going down one at a time, but….
Well, there wasn't a whole lot of room on the robot's palm. Which meant that she would have to stand close to him. Not that she cared, of course. Why should she be bothered that she might accidentally brush shoulders with him? She shouldn't be flustered by a little physical contact.
Becky took a step forward, staring straight ahead. If he noticed her guarded expression, he didn't point it out or tease her about it. Instead, he pushed a button and the robot's hand staggered to the ground.
The unsteady movement jarred Becky and she flailed about, trying to regain her balance. She careened into Tobey and clung to him so she wouldn't tumble off the robot's hand and plummet to the ground. He seemed to have lost his balance as well, because he grabbed onto her shoulders with a startled cry.
Her face was buried in his shoulder, and she felt him stiffen. He smelled like clean laundry that had been drying out in the sun, and felt as warm as it too. She lurched back, her face burning.
Tobey stared at her, horrified, before the robot's hand came to a complete stop on the ground. He scowled at his robot one last time as it powered down, and it let out a hiss that sounded an awful lot like satisfied laughter. A small plume of gray smoke poured out of its mouth and he frowned. Well, there was no way he was going to have a ride home now. Not with it breaking down and acting so insubordinate.
Taking a deep breath, he pressed a button on his remote, hoping at least this one function would work. The robot began to tremble then compact in on itself until it was no bigger than a pen. Tobey scooped it up and put it carefully in his bag, only to notice Becky's wide-eyed stare.
He rose an eyebrow. "…What?"
Pointing at his bag, she asked, "How was your robot able to do that? I mean, that shouldn't even be possible for it to shrink without, like, a shrink ray or something!"
"This is a show where villains use food for weapons. I doubt breaking the Law of Conservation of Mass is gonna bother the target audience much," the Narrator pointed out, something like a shrug in his voice.
"Yes, this show teaches children about words, not physics," Tobey agreed.
Becky ran a hand over her face. "Okay, okay. Let's just get inside before I get a headache thinking about all of this." She pointed up at the sky and at Tobey and ordered, "And stop breaking the fourth wall, you two."
"Unlike Tobey, breaking the fourth wall is part of my job," the Narrator stated.
The boy genius puffed out his chest, placing his hand over his heart for emphasis. "And I can do whatever I please, Botsford. You're not my mother. Thank goodness for that."
She threw her hands up in the air. "You're unbelievable…" she grumbled as she fished out her house keys.
As soon as she opened the door, she announced, "I'm home!"
"Hey, Becky!" Her dad's voice floated down the stairs. "Are your friends with you?"
She hesitated for a moment before replying, "Just Tobey!" She glanced back at him, unsure of how he would react.
Tobey raised an eyebrow at her but only cupped a hand over his mouth and announced, "Hello, Mr. Botsford!"
"Hi, Tobey! There's caramel corn on the table! I'm just gonna get something real quick then I'll join you guys, okay?"
Becky tossed her backpack in front of her and plopped herself on the couch. "Sounds good, dad!"
Tobey shucked off his bag, throwing it in the seat next to him before grabbing one of the bowls of caramel corn on the table in front of them.
Frowning, she advised, "We should wait for Scoops and Violet to get here."
He threw her a peeved side-glance. "I'm hungry," he insisted and tossed some popcorn in his mouth for emphasis.
"Still—"
Her stomach growled in protest. Tobey snickered, his infuriating grin making her blush. Tugging the bowl to her, she grumbled, "Yeah, yeah. At least share…."
No sooner had she grabbed a handful than some security alarm rang off in the distance. She shut her eyes, willing herself not to hurl the popcorn to the floor in frustration.
Becky took a moment to eat the caramel corn in her hand before standing up and announcing, "I just remembered…Bob needs to know you're here."
He gave a light shrug as an answer.
She started up the stairs when, remembering something, turned around and ordered, "Don't you dare eat all the popcorn. I mean it, McCallister."
"And if I refuse?" His smirk was like a challenge.
She put her hands on her hips. "Well, my dad will probably make more. But you won't get any."
"Botsford, believe you me, when I want something badly enough, I'll find a way to get it." The way he stared at her from over his glasses, with those half-lidded, amused, infuriatingly teasing eyes, made her breath hitch and heat crawl over her face.
She whirled around to hide her blush. "And I'll find a way to stop you. Like I always do." She put as much emphasis into that one word as she could, and was satisfied with his silence.
She was grateful to whoever it was who decided to commit a crime now. Better to immerse herself in a battle than recall that mocking look Tobey gave her. Or how warm he was when she accidentally clung to him. Or how she might have liked how he smelled like freshly dried laundry and summer. Or—
She kicked her room door open, repressing the scream bubbling in her throat.
Bob sat up in his hammock, his eyes wide.
"Someone's trying to rob the bank. Let's go." Her voice sounded breathless, even to her own ears.
She grabbed Bob by the arm before he could ask her what was wrong and the two hurtled into the sky.
"A few minutes later…" the Narrator announced.
WordGirl burst through her window and, in a flash of light, transformed back into average Becky Botsford.
"Steve McClean is losing his edge. If he doesn't watch out, he could become the next Amazing Rope Guy!" she joked, making Bob snicker.
"Don't you have something to tell Bob?" the Narrator prompted.
Her smile fell. "Oh, uh, Tobey's…here." He raised an eyebrow, so she hastily added, "For a group project! Scoops and Violet are coming over too! Did I mention Dad made caramel corn?"
She expected him to rile himself up into a lecture, but all he did was shrug. She narrowed her eyes. "That's it? A shrug? You're not gonna warn me off or something?"
"You can handle yourself." He waved at her dismissively.
As the two walked downstairs, Bob asked, "Aren't you gonna wear your Princess Triana costume?"
"With Tobey here? I wouldn't do something so embarrass—"
"And here she is now!" her dad announced as the two of them reached the bottom of the stairs.
Becky gawked with absolute horror as her father swept his heavy purple cape behind him. Her father wore a mauve tunic with an elegant golden crest stitched on it over an olive long-sleeved shirt. White, faux fur lined the edges of the cape, and Tobey slapped it away when it swung into his face. A large plastic sword hung at his belt, sheath and all.
Tim fixed the plastic crown slipping down his head with a smile. "Oh, Becky! Tobey and I were just talking about the Botsford movie-watching traditions!"
She blinked several times, taken aback, before she yelled, "Dad! Why are you wearing that?!"
He looked down at himself. "What? It's just my King Cedric costume. I always dress up as King Cedric when we watch the Princess Triana movies. Speaking of which, why aren't you wearing your Princess Triana costume?"
"Wha—?! Bu—I…." Tobey threw her a delighted smirk, and she flushed. "But—"
"Rooooaaaar!" T.J. cried out behind her and she whirled around. He was dressed in a worn-out red dragon costume with bulging green eyes. His head peeked out from the costume's mouth.
"Seriously, T.J.?" Becky groaned.
He stared at her, an eyebrow raised. "How come you're not wearing your Princess Triana costume?" he asked, as if it was outrageous for her not to join in her family's madness.
Which it was, but Tobey didn't have to know that.
Looking from her brother to her father to Tobey, she huffed, "Maybe I don't want to, alright? In fact, I'm adamant in my decision."
Putting a finger to his chin, Tim Botsford asked, "Uh…adamant?"
She crossed her arms and explained, sounding impatient, "When someone is adamant, it means they're stubborn, or they don't want to change their mind. Like how I'm adamant about how I won't wear my Princess Triana costume, or how you two are probably adamant about wearing your costumes while we watch the movie no matter what I say."
Her father nodded. "Yes, I am adamant about wearing my King Cedric costume! We've dressed up with these movies since you were a toddler."
He sighed and looked up at the ceiling as if he could see the memories play out there. "I remember the first time you came up with the idea, Becky. It was so cute. You just came downstairs one day, all dressed up like Belle from Beauty and the Beast. You even tried to put your hair up like her! Oh, and you had your mother's lipstick smeared on your mouth—"
"Yeah, yeah, okay, Dad! We get it!" she cut in, frantically waving for him to stop.
It was then the doorbell rang, and Becky breathed a sigh of relief. They couldn't have had better timing. "That must be Scoops and Violet. I'll just go answer that…."
Turning away from her humiliation, Becky went to open the door.
"So the headline for my next story is gonna be 'Meat Your Maker'!" Scoops explained. He spread his arms out in front of him, as if picturing how it would look. "It's gonna be an interview with the old artist who created those meat vases that are gonna be on display at the museum soon."
Instead of becoming ecstatic, Violet only muttered something incoherent in reply.
Concerned, he took her hand in his and asked, "Hey, are you okay? You've been down ever since Becky mentioned telling Rose everything."
Though grabbing her hand out of nowhere might have been a bit intrusive, it just felt right to him. He wanted to let her know he was there for her.
Her tiny smile reassured him somewhat. She laced her fingers through his and looked away, the smile fading.
"Scoops…" she began.
He leaned a little closer to her. "Yeah?"
She remained silent for a few moments, but he wasn't going to rush her. Violet got around to things in her own time, and he respected that.
"How did you feel when you found out that Becky was WordGirl?" she asked, at last.
The reporter put a hand to his head. "Oh, boy, where do I begin? I was excited, of course. I mean, finding out one of your friends is a superhero? That's so cool!" He cleared his throat, trying to act nonchalant. "I mean, I sort of knew the whole time, but I didn't have anything concrete. Putting all the pieces together, like how she always randomly disappears or how she had the weirdest excuses, it was sort of obvious after the fact."
Peering over at him, she asked, "But did you feel sad at all?"
"To be honest, I was a little sad." He shrugged, as if it wasn't that big a deal. "But I didn't have much time to dwell on it since the whole city was being mind-controlled and I had to fight Doctor Two-Brains and Mr. Big."
Violet's gaze dropped to the ground. "…That's good."
He tilted his head. "Why'd you bring it up?" he asked.
With a sigh, she replied, "It's just…Rose. When she was telling me how she found out, I got the sense that she didn't really feel anything. Becky's secret meant nothing to her personally. But she found out before me. I'm Becky's best friend. Shouldn't I have found out before either of you?"
His eyes widened. Violet seemed she was okay with knowing Becky was WordGirl, but he hadn't thought about how much of a burden that knowledge really was on her.
He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. "I found out by accident, and Rose gathered the evidence herself. Becky didn't have much of a choice in both instances. I don't think she would have told either of us unless she had to."
Her eyes glimmered with something like hope when she turned to look at him.
"But you're different, Violet," he went on. "I think Becky wanted to tell you, but something always got in the way. Like a villain committing a crime somewhere, or she had some event to go to as WordGirl."
"You think so?" she whispered.
"You're best friends, aren't you?"
They paused at Becky's doorstep and he reached out to ring the doorbell.
"Thanks, Scoops," Violet whispered and leaned over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.
His hand dropped immediately and he stared at her with wide eyes. It was as if that peck had short-circuited his brain, and now he couldn't process anything.
She giggled at his expression, then slipped her hand out of his and rang the doorbell.
"Hey, guys!" Becky greeted as she ushered them in.
"Hi, Becky!" Violet said.
Scoops shuffled in and mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath, but Becky assumed it was a greeting of some sort.
She ignored Tobey's snickering as she sat next to him and pulled the bowl of caramel corn to her. Bob sat on her other side, his eyes flicking back and forth from the popcorn to Tobey. He had said Becky could handle herself, but that hadn't meant he wasn't going to keep an eye on the kid. He doubted he would try anything with so many people around, but it was better safe than sorry.
"Alright, let's get this movie started!" Tim announced and swept his cape behind him dramatically as he turned around to pop the VHS tape in the VCR.
Violet glanced at T.J. bouncing eagerly in his seat as he waited for the movie to start then turned to her best friend. "Becky, I thought you had a Princess Triana costume. Shouldn't you be wearing it?" she wondered with a puzzled frown.
Becky slouched in her seat when she caught Tobey start to snicker at the question. "Why does everyone keep asking me this today? I don't want to wear it, okay?" she grumbled.
"What a shame. I would've certainly liked to see your cosplay," Tobey said with a teasing grin.
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, you're not going to."
Tobey smirked, but it soon faded when he caught Bob's suspicious glare.
Doesn't he have anything better to do than glare at me like that? He's such a nuisance. Hmph, he probably thinks the same thing about me…. Well, I'll show him.
Picking up another piece of caramel corn, he waited for Bob to look at the screen, then flicked it at him. The caramel corn flew up higher than he wanted, however, and instead smacked Becky in the cheek. He almost wanted to burst out laughing at the bewildered expression she gave him.
"S-Sorry…. That popcorn slipped," he lied, choking back his laughter.
She frowned at him but turned to glare at the T.V. without saying anything. He smirked and focused his attention on the old movie previews flashing across the screen.
A few minutes passed then he felt something hit his glasses. He blinked in surprise and glanced down to see what hit him. It was…a caramel corn?
He raised an eyebrow at Becky. She glanced at him, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "What? I didn't do that." Her coy smile suggested otherwise.
"Becky, you're the one holding the bowl," he pointed out.
"Must've been the wind," she said with a shrug.
"Whatever you say…" he muttered as he picked up a handful of caramel corn. After waiting a few seconds, he tossed a piece at her and exclaimed, "Goodness, did you feel a draft just now? How odd…."
Her feigned pout was betrayed by her giggling. "Really? C'mon, stop." She tossed another piece at him.
His smirk grew. "You stop," he ordered and threw the rest of his handful at her.
"Hey!" she protested. Some pieces stuck to her hair and she brushed them out. "So that's how you want to play it, huh?" she asked, grinning. Becky grabbed a huge handful and chucked it at his face.
This garnered a short laugh from him. He scooped up some popcorn that had fallen into his lap and tossed it at her while dodging another handful she hurled at him.
"Becky Botsford!" her father shouted and the two froze. "Why are you making such a mess?"
She looked over and found her father looked more confused than angry with her. Her face burned with shame all the same. "Sorry, Dad. I'll clean it up."
Tobey scratched the back of his neck, feeling a little bad when she turned back to him with a small frown. He helped her sweep the popcorn back into the bowl without her asking him to, earning him a puzzled yet grateful smile.
Once they finished with that, she handed the bowl to Bob. The monkey's mood considerably brightened as he munched on the caramel corn.
Becky examined her hands with a grimace. "Ugh, my hands are all sticky from the caramel."
Tobey flexed his fingers experimentally. "Mine too…" he mumbled.
Her father looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. "Want me to pause the movie so you can wash your hands?" he wondered, slowly reaching for the remote.
"Aw, don't do that, Dad! We barely started watching!" T.J. protested.
Tim frowned at his son, but, before he could scold him, Becky stood up and said, "While I don't appreciate the complete disregard for me and Tobey, T.J.— " She looked at him pointedly and he stuck his tongue out at her. "—you can keep the movie playing, Dad. Besides, I've watched this movie so many times, I've pretty much memorized it."
She shuffled past the T.V. so she could get to the bathroom sink and wash her hands, Tobey trailing behind her.
Violet stared after them, her face scrunched up in thought. "They sure are acting amiable with each other…" she whispered, putting a hand to her chin. "I wonder…if they even realize it."
"Becky, hurry up. My hands are all soapy," Tobey complained as he waited for Becky to finish washing her hands.
She flicked water droplets at his face playfully before backing away from the sink to dry her hands. The disgruntled noise he made as he wiped his face with a sleeve almost made her smirk.
"You know…" Becky began, facing the other way.
His curious silence was a signal for her to continue. "Don't take this the wrong way…but you've been more…tolerable to be around lately."
He snorted at this. "My, what a generous compliment. May I ask what prompted such kindness?" he wondered, his tone coated in sarcasm.
"Well, earlier, when I was, uh…looking for Bob, I ran into two, er, people I knew. They were arguing about who could steal from the museum—I mean, who could get a steal at the museum, 'c-cause the curator is selling…museum stuff."
At his bewildered expression, she added, "Anyway, what they were trying to do isn't that important. The point is, when they got in a bind, they worked pretty well together, even if they aren't exactly the best of friends."
He seemed unimpressed by this. "So?"
"So." She put a subtle emphasis on the word, clapping her hands together to reign in her exasperation. "I was thinking that we might be the same way. I mean, we've worked well together before."
The boy genius raised an eyebrow. "On what occasion?"
She shrugged. "You know, that time we had to clean up the library."
Or that time we built that robot to defeat the Coach. Or that time we stopped WordBot.
He still seemed unconvinced. "One instance of almost amiable interaction. I wouldn't really conclude we work well together from that."
"It wasn't almost amiable. See, amiable means friendly or acting pleasant. Like how the characters in Pride and Prejudice thought Mr. Bingley was amiable because he acted as if everyone at the ball were his friends. Or how, well, you acted amiable when we read The Little Bug That Went Ka-choo! while we cleaned the library."
"It's Because a Little Bug Went Ka-choo!" Tobey corrected. "And I am nothing like Mr. Bingley."
Much to his surprise, she laughed. He hadn't even meant to be funny.
"No, I wasn't saying that. Besides, you're more like Mr. Darcy, what with that pride of yours."
And there was no doubt Becky was Elizabeth, with her fiery spirit and wit to boot. The passage where Darcy mused about Elizabeth's fine eyes tickled in the back of his mind, and he looked away, attempting to hide a blush.
He would have teased her about being Elizabeth, had he not been so caught off guard by recalling that particular passage. It drew too much attention to what he thought of Becky's eyes, and, in a more honest moment, he might have admitted they were indeed fine.
If she was WordGirl, he might have just blurted this aloud. But, if it turned out he was wrong, and he felt something for two different girls, he would do just about anything to destroy whatever it was he was feeling about Becky. Any sort of affection had to be stamped out. He wouldn't have this love triangle nonsense, no sir.
Not to say he even liked Becky in that way. Or any way. At all.
"I meant that we acted…sort of like friends that time. That note you gave me was also an amiable gesture. I still have it, actually."
He glanced back at her, an eyebrow raised. "You kept my letter? But it was just a regular thank-you note."
"You drew a nice picture on it," she complimented. "Besides, you writing a thank-you note to anyone is kind of a big deal. You didn't have to go through all of that trouble."
Tobey spluttered, "I-It's just—I was—I mean—" He cleared his throat, taking that moment to compose himself.
"D-Don't get used to it," he said, finally.
Becky grinned. "Fair enough."
"Becky! The part with the dragon's coming up!" T.J. screamed at her as soon as the two walked back into the living room.
She straightened up, looking just as ecstatic as her little brother. Zooming over to the couch, she plopped into her seat and stared at the screen expectantly.
Tobey, amused by her excitement, took his seat beside her.
At this point in the movie, Princess Triana was practically dragging Prince Vanlandingham into a cave. While the princess was all afire for exploring, the prince was anything but. He complained about the damp cold, and tried to warn Triana of the possible monsters that might be in the cave with them, but his rationale fell on deaf ears.
The two got into an argument, and Tobey squinted at the screen. There was something about their chemistry that seemed oddly…familiar. That defiant air Princess Triana exuded…and that upright smugness Prince Vanlandingham had about him, how he always had to be right….
It was going to drive him mad. He knew he had seen this somewhere before.
Just as he felt he were about to grasp who they reminded him of, a mighty roar resounded from the screen, jolting him back to reality.
The prince and princess had stopped as well and peered deeper in the cave with wide eyes. Princess Triana tightened her grip on the wand in her hand while Prince Vanlandingham had reached for the broadsword at his belt.
Large, booming steps came closer and closer to the two, an ominous roar sounding not far from them.
T.J. stood up and yelled, "It's the dragon!"
Becky shushed him, more for Scoops' sake than for anyone else's. This was her favorite part of the movie. No way was her little brother going to ruin it for him.
During the fight scene, she peeked over at him to see if he was awestruck by it as she was the first time she watched it.
Instead, Scoops was scrolling through his phone, looking bored. Her enthusiasm deflated and sunk down to the pit of her stomach like a rock. She slouched in her seat with a pout.
Tobey glanced over at her and asked, "What's the matter? This is the best part!"
Becky sighed. "Scoops isn't even paying any attention. We're only watching this movie so he could get the general idea of what the book is about, but…." They glanced over at the reporter, who remained oblivious to the world around him.
The boy genius cleared his throat but received no response. He tried again, sounding a bit annoyed at being ignored.
Violet looked at him, concerned. "Are you catching a cold, Tobey? I think I have a bag of cough drops in my backpack somewhere," she offered.
He shook his head. "No, thank you. I'm fine. But that blasted reporter isn't watching the movie, and if he expects us to do all the work just because he couldn't bother to focus for a little over two hours, then I'm going to destroy him."
The girls' eyes widened. "Hey, that's a little harsh," Becky said. "You don't need to destroy him."
He frowned. "His phone, at least."
"No."
Tobey crossed his arms. "Oh boo. How else are we supposed to get his attention?" he grumbled.
"Like this," Violet said and gently put a hand on Scoops's arm.
The reporter glanced at her. "Hm? Did you need something, Violet?" he wondered, putting his phone on his lap.
She tilted her head and asked, "What were you looking at on your phone?"
"Oh, well, I was thinking that that dragon didn't look CGI, so I looked it up, and it turns out the whole thing was an animatronic! Can you believe that? A robot dragon!" he exclaimed.
"Whoa, that dragon's a robot?!" T.J. shouted next to him. "That's so awesome!"
Turning to look at Tobey, he asked, "Hey, Tobey, could you make a robot like that?"
The boy genius seemed startled. No one had ever asked him to make a specific type of robot before. Pride burned in his chest and he smirked. "I most definitely could."
T.J.'s eyes sparkled with excitement. "Then you should do that for your project! That'd be so cool!"
Becky made a face at this. "I doubt Miss Davis is going to give us an A just because we built a robot dragon, even if it would be kinda cool."
"No, we should build a robot dragon," Violet suggested, and everyone stared at her, taken aback. Of all the people in that room to advocate for a robot dragon, Violet seemed the least likely to do so.
"We could do a skit for our presentation," she continued. "Tobey could build the robot dragon, Becky could be Princess Triana, I'll design costumes, and Scoops could be the narrator!"
"You're forgetting about Prince Vanlandingham," Tobey pointed out. "Besides, if we do a skit, we'd all have to be in it."
"Oh yeah…." Violet put a finger to her chin in thought.
"How about you be Prince Vanlandingham, and Violet can voice the dragon?" Becky suggested as she gestured at the both of them.
The blonde's eyes widened. "Me? As the dragon? I don't think I can sound very ferocious, Becky…."
"Not with that attitude," Tobey replied. He was so nonchalant about it, Becky elbowed him.
He added, smoothing down his vest, "Of course, I can probably work in some voice modification program for the robut so you'll sound ferocious no matter what you say."
Looking pointedly at Becky, he grumbled, "Hmph, at least allow me to finish speaking before digging your elbow into my ribs, Botsford."
Violet smiled. "Thank you, Tobey. It's nice to know you can be amiable sometimes."
He made a startled noise, then glanced back at the T.V., scoffing. "…Please. I'm only interested in getting a good grade for myself."
"Uh-huh," Becky said, throwing him a doubtful glance.
His face burned at her comment.
They finished watching the movie soon after, and gathered at the kitchen table. Tobey had taken out a blank blueprint sheet from his backpack and was sketching out the dragon's design, careful to scribble down precise measurements in the margins. His tongue was sticking out a little, though Becky wasn't sure he was even aware of this habit. T.J. hovered over his shoulder, watching the process in wonder while fiddling with the tail of his dragon costume.
Violet worked on sketching a few costume designs for Scoops's Narrator role. It was clear she was struggling to create a design that matched with the movie's style while also incorporating her own flare, but she kept at it.
Becky sat in between the two, occasionally commenting on either Tobey or Violet's designs.
Scoops was trying to look up the movie's script on his phone, but, unable to find it, decided to rewatch the dragon scene again and compare it to the book to see which would make for an easier transcript.
Becky's father had changed out of his King Cedric costume, much to his daughter's relief, and resigned himself to making more snacks for the group. Bob helped. If eating scraps counted as helping.
They hadn't even noticed two hours had gone by until the doorbell rang.
"That must be my mom. I told her to pick me up around this time," Violet said as she packed her things.
"Okay. Great work today, Violet! I liked a lot of the designs you came up with!" Becky complimented.
The blonde smiled. "Thanks. Now I just have to pick one…."
A chorus of "bye"s sounded from everyone as she shut the door behind her.
Scoops's parents arrived soon after, and, after asking Becky to borrow her Princess Triana book to finish up the script, he left too.
"And then there were two," Becky muttered, almost absently.
Tobey didn't look up when he responded, "So it would seem."
"So, if your robot broke down, does that mean your mom is gonna pick you up?" the superheroine wondered, leaning towards him.
"Astounding deduction, Sherlock," he replied with a roll of his eyes. "She is. Although I'm not sure as to when. Her work schedule is very unpredictable on weekdays."
"Can you give me a time frame, at least?"
Giving her a wry smile, he asked, "Trying to get rid of me, Botsford?"
She shook her head. "No, I just wanna know if you'll be joining us for dinner or not."
He was taken aback by this. Blinking away the surprise, he looked down at his work again. "It's possible," he mumbled.
Becky shrugged. "Okay. I'll tell my dad then."
She hadn't walked two steps before he called out, "Wait…."
"Hm?" She glanced back, an eyebrow raised.
"Do you…." He faltered, as if changing his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck with a resigned sigh.
"I don't know if I can construct this robut in two weeks, even if I simplified the movie's design quite a lot," he admitted.
Her eyes widened. "Wha—But—"
"Which is why," he interrupted, "I was wondering…if, perhaps, you would like to…." He mumbled something too low for her to hear.
"I didn't catch that. Like to what?"
He ran a hand down his face. "Ugh, you're making this so difficult." He cleared his throat and repeated, craning his head back to glare at her, "Would you, Becky Botsford, like to help me?"
"Whoa, wait, me? You're asking me to help?" she asked, incredulously pointing to herself.
Tobey rolled his eyes. "Yes. Is there another Becky Botsford in the room?"
"But you were so adamant about handling the robot all on your own earlier."
He scowled, more in disappointment at himself than at her. "That was before I discovered how complicated this project would be. And, seeing as how you are the only member of our group besides myself who has some mechanical knowledge, there isn't really anyone else I could ask."
"Oh…. Uh, sure, okay, I'll help." Thinking of something, she added, "But on one condition."
He deadpanned. "Oh? And what might that be?"
"Cross your heart you won't use it to destroy the city when we're done with our project."
The boy genius raised an eyebrow. "You know, I hadn't actually considered using it for evil purposes, but now—"
"Tobey."
He heaved a huge sigh. "Oh, alright, I'll disassemble it when we're done with it. Killjoy," he grumbled and traced an 'x' across his chest.
Her shoulders fell a little in relief. "Okay. We'll start tomorrow then."
Tobey gawked as the Botsford family prepared dinner. Sally Botsford had come home from work not too long ago, but she acted as enthusiastic as ever as she tossed the salad. T.J. and Becky had gotten into several petty arguments while they were rolling meatballs, all of which their parents had shut down with a firm but gentle hand. Tim Botsford did the majority of the cooking, all while singing and dancing to a bunch of show tunes. Bob sat on top of the fridge eating cookies.
All in all, a confusing sight for one Theodore McCallister the Third. How this family managed to be both distracted and efficient was beyond him.
It was sort of…nice, in an odd way.
They invited him to the table and he took a reluctant seat next to Becky. She didn't seem to mind.
"So I heard you two are going to build a robot dragon! That sounds fun!" Sally commented.
"Can I help? I wanna help!" T.J. insisted, his eyes gleaming.
Becky rolled her eyes. "T.J., you can't help. You don't know the first thing about robots or how they function," she pointed out.
Tim Botsford swallowed a mouthful of pasta before scolding, "Becky, you don't need to sound so harsh." He turned to T.J. and explained, "T.J., I know you're excited about the dragon-robot, but this is for Becky and Tobey's school project. Unless they ask for help, they probably don't need it."
T.J. slumped in his seat with a childish pout. "Aw man. But I wanna see the dragon-robot!"
"You can watch us build it, if you want," Tobey offered. "Though, I'm not sure you'll be all that thrilled to see Becky and I—"
"Becky and me," the superheroine automatically corrected as she stabbed her fork into her salad.
"Whatever. All we'll be doing is cutting pieces of metal for the first few days. Not all that entertaining, I'm afraid. It won't even look like a dragon until the very end."
T.J. picked at his spaghetti. "Oh…."
"But you can be the first one to ride it once it's finished, if you like," Tobey offered after a sudden twinge of sympathy struck him.
The young boy sat up straight, that excited gleam returning to his eyes. "Really? Awesome! You're so cool, Tobey!"
The boy genius blinked. "Oh, um, yes, well…thank you."
"Geez, you're being so amiable to everyone today. It's kinda weird," Becky said.
"I am not," he denied hastily, his face burning.
"Aw, there's no shame in being amiable, Tobey. Being friendly to others makes them feel good, and it makes you feel good too," Tim advised with a smile.
But I'm not a good person, he wanted to say. The words stuck in his throat. Instead, he settled for humming in response and avoided speaking for the rest of the dinner.
"Tobey, your mom's running pretty late. Are you sure you don't want us to drop you off at home?" Sally offered, looking concerned.
"Yes, I'm sure. My mother told me she was stuck in traffic, but I don't think she'll be long."
She frowned, still unconvinced. Turning to the stairs, she called out, "Becky!"
"Yeah?" her daughter yelled back.
"Could you get Tobey a blanket from the linen closet?"
The boy genius straightened. "Oh, Mrs. Botsford, that really isn't—"
Becky zoomed down the stairs with the blanket tucked under her arm before he could finish.
Before she could scurry back to her room, however, her mother suggested, "Becky, why don't you keep him company for now?"
"But, Mom, I need to go to sleep!" the superheroine protested.
"Just until your dad is finished getting ready for bed."
She searched her mother's face, but found she was adamant in her decision. Becky held back a sigh. "Alright, fine."
"Okay then. Good night, Tobey! And good night, my little Becky-doodles!" Sally said, ruffling her daughter's hair as she headed upstairs.
Becky flushed when she caught Tobey's amused smirk. "'My little Becky-doodles'?" he repeated.
She handed him the blanket and seemed resigned. "Yeah, I know, it's silly. Go on, laugh if you want."
"It is silly, but not nearly as bad as some of the nicknames my grandmother gives me," he replied, shuddering at the thought. He set the blanket down next to him. While he appreciated the thought, he didn't need it.
"Like…?" she prompted, sitting next to him.
He scoffed, "As if I would tell you. You'd laugh so hard, you'd cry."
"Aw, c'mon, it can't be as bad as 'little Becky-doodles.'"
"You're right. It's worse," he affirmed and blushed at the thought.
She sensed he wasn't going to tell her anything and leaned back with a sigh. "Well, you don't have to tell me that, I guess. But can I ask why you want people to call you 'Tobey'? I mean, your real first name is Theodore, so I would get it if you shortened it to 'Theo' or something, but 'Tobey'? How do you get 'Tobey' from 'Theodore'?"
He laid his head against the back of the couch and stared up at the ceiling. "Tobey is actually my middle name," he admitted, folding his hands on his stomach.
"Wait, it is?" Becky yelled, her eyes wide. "But why do you want to be called by your middle name?"
Shrugging, he replied, "It's not so much my preference as my mother's. She originally wanted to name me Tobey, but my father, Theodore McCallister the Second, wanted to name me after him. So, they compromised. I was to be named Theodore McCallister the Third, but I would be referred to as Tobey, so as not to be confused with my father. I've been called Tobey for as long as I can remember. It feels more like my name than Theodore."
"That makes sense…."
She looked up at the ceiling too, pondering why she felt so at ease around him now. Their arms brushed, just a little, but neither felt inclined to scoot away.
A thin veil of sleep fluttered over her then, and she blinked several times in an attempt to stay alert.
"So…" she began, shifting in her seat.
"Hm?"
She looked at him, unfazed that his face rested mere inches from hers. "This is sort of a personal question, and you don't have to answer, but…where is your dad?"
His eyes, earlier dulled with exhaustion, now burned with some emotion she couldn't place.
He turned away, hiding that fire. After a few moments of silence, he started, "My father—"
The doorbell rang and the two of them jumped. Tobey put a hand to his chest, sucking in a breath.
Tim Botsford ran down the stairs in his pajamas and announced, "I'll get it!"
Tobey stood up and grabbed his backpack. "That must be my mother," he mumbled, avoiding looking at Becky directly.
She put a gentle hand on his arm. "Sorry, Tobey. I shouldn't have asked about your dad."
He curved his hand over hers, taking care to lift it off of him. Curling his fingers under hers, he said, "It's fine. Anyone would be curious, I suppose. Thank you for being so courteous about it, though."
The boy genius slipped his hand out of hers when his mother looked over at them. "Ready to go?" she asked as he strolled over to her.
"Yes, Mother."
"Alright then." Looking at the two Botsfords, she bid them good night and headed for her car.
"Bye! Good night!" Tim called out after her.
Tobey glanced back at Becky and declared with a dramatic flourish, "'Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, / That I shall say good night till it be morrow.'"
She snorted. "Good night, Tobey."
His eyes crinkled when he smiled at her. "Good night, Becky. Mr. Botsford…" he muttered, bowing his head politely before following his mother.
They waved at each other until his mother pulled out of their driveway and cruised down the street.
"I'm sorry for getting here so late, Tobey, but—"
"Yes, I know. Traffic."
Claire waited until she got to a stop sign before speaking again. "Did you have fun?"
A smirk tugged at his mouth before he knew it. Luckily, it was too dark for his mother to see his face properly. "As much fun as I could have at the Botsfords…" he mumbled, trying to brush it off.
"So a lot of fun then," his mother mused, seeing through her son's cool façade.
He could think of nothing to say to that.
Instead, he elected to stare out the window. His thoughts kept wandering back to the Botsford home, and how, as his mother had pointed, he did indeed have fun there.
They were all too nice, almost sickeningly so, and yet….
Their enthusiasm and how they genuinely seemed to care for his well-being…. It made him feel…warm.
He put a hand over his heart and realized he craved more of that foreign warmth. That amiable encouraging Tim Botsford gave him even if he wasn't his father. That odd eagerness Sally Botsford practically exuded. That bright excitement T.J. had whenever he brought up how cool he thought Tobey's robots were.
That honest exhilaration he felt around Becky—
His heart jolted, and he gripped his vest in a tight fist.
No, no, no. Stop this at once. His heart only beat faster.
He scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. He needed to smother this…this idiocy before he could acknowledge it for what it really was.
Of course, when one tried not to think of something, it was all they thought about. Love was adamant like that.
People liked to say there was a fine line between love and hate. If there really was a thing like that, he was sure there would be more prominent warning signs. Something that screamed, Hey, you're falling in love, don't you know?
But there wasn't. It was almost like there was never a clear line to begin with. Or maybe that line was hard to see. All he knew was that there were opposite sides, and he had somehow moved from one side to the other.
Tobey stared out the car window, watching the lampposts drift past him like ghosts.
…It wasn't so bad on this side, he supposed.
A/N: King Cedric was a not-so-subtle Sofia the First reference. And he's not even a king, he's the villain who wants to be king. I based Tim's costume on Cedric's outfit and color scheme from the show.
I didn't even plan for Tobey integrating into the Botsford family moments, but now that I wrote it, it makes me wish there were more moments like this in canon.
If you're wondering, Tobey was quoting Romeo and Juliet when he was saying goodbye to Becky.
Someone help Tobey. He's fallen and can't get up.