Who's a Father?

"Know what, Gar..?" Kylie asked, standing beside her brother at the kitchen sink, following his sober eyes out into the landscaped yard. "You're taking care of a seven year old—" she smiled, watching Brooklyn crouched in a flower bed, pressing his ear against the dirt to hear roots growing.—"'Cause he's like a little kid."

Garland threw the blonde a suspicious glance. "Think I can't handle it?"

Kylie grinned, turning to lean against the edge of the counter. "I didn't say that. But—don't you think you're kinda young to be a father?" There was no disapproval or worry in her voice. Only amusement.

Garland stared wordlessly into the sink, trying to will the flustered blush off his face.

Unfortunately, Brooklyn chose that second to barrel in through the glass backdoor, kicking off his shoes as he crossed the room towards them, making a pleased sighing noise. He grabbed Kylie's hands to deposit a ladybug, before wheeling on Garland, standing on his toes to plant a quick kiss on the boy's cheek. He then picked up his shoes and went back outside.

Kylie burst out laughing, and her brother hid his brightest blush yet, chuckling in helpless embarrassment.