One More Time
Daft Punk: One More Time
Lemmy is in the playroom when Junior babbles out his first word. Balancing on his newest gift from Bowser; a yellow-colored circus ball dotted with giant orange stars, he's perched on top of it. Multitasking, he keeps a watchful eye on Junior while honing in on the gymnastic skills he had involuntarily abandoned. After everything he had gone through in the last eleven months, he doesn't blame himself for being a tad rusty.
Rarely is Junior left unsupervised, but after his messy and explosive tantrum, the nanny in charge of the young prince stepped out to fetch them both a light snack before lunch to sedate Junior's sudden grumpy mood. Lemmy promised if he needed anything, the guards were only footsteps away outside the playroom doors.
Good thing babysitting is an easy task for him since he's the second oldest out of seven. He's dealt with baby watching on numerous occasions and has never lost anyone… yet. Junior has a strong, almost instinctual, tendency to find trouble anywhere and everywhere—like his dad; Kamek would rant/reminisce.
Thankfully, the cranky mood Junior was in before the nanny set him in the playroom, presumably to remedy the headache attacking her skull from his raucous cries—or so Lemmy thinks her head was bothering her (she kept purposely massaging at her temples), is long gone.
As well-behaved as a baby at his adventurous age can be, Junior pounds his little fists against a toy keyboard that sings nursery rhymes when he presses the rainbow music notes displayed at the top. Sometimes, he plays the key's notes whenever he smashes down on one—or all of them, in this case.
He giggles happily at his cacophony of sounds, enamored with his newest toy. Lemmy smiles at him, wondering humorously if Ludwig should start prepping to have a musically inclined friend to look forward to. Although with how much Larry soaks up music like a living sponge; Ludwig won't be alone in that department anyways.
Lemmy is finally standing steadily atop the ball, managing to find the perfect epicenter. He maintains sturdy balance, like he's standing on solid ground. After two previously painful attempts left him on the back of his shell combined with a sore rear end, Lemmy lets out a celebratory whoop. At this moment Junior looks up at him, bright eyes and all bubbly giggles.
The baby laughs again, throws his hands in the air like he's about to make the biggest announcement ever, and exclaims: "ball!"
Or… well, 'bwall', but Lemmy's fluent in baby gibberish and is able to interpret what Junior meant to say despite the horrid mispronunciation.
Not expecting actual words to flow from the baby's mouth, Lemmy slips, sending said object rolling off to the side as he lets out a tiny squeak. The impact when he hits the floor isn't brutally loud—it's barely painful because of all the padding and carpeting installed by an overcautious father—and he recovers quickly enough to bounce right back to his feet like he's also made of rubber.
Stunned, he stares blankly at Junior with a gaping mouth. The awkward silence is deafening, gobbling up Lemmy's certainty. He laughs nervously to stall it, running a fidgeting palm over the soft tips of his rainbow-hair. He begins to debate whether he misheard the baby or not since babies tend to babble incoherently; maybe it was nothing?
As if reading his mind, Junior once again shouts out "ball" (or, this time, bawl) pointing straight at the object that was launched across the room when Lemmy slipped. Relieved he isn't going mad or conjuring up voices, Lemmy releases a small exhale/chuckle before he perks back up.
He smiles proudly at the baby, trotting over to him. Junior raises his hands, grasping for him before he's close enough to reach. Without any hesitation, Lemmy scoops the baby right into his arms and laughs lightly when Junior mimics his delighted expression. He adds a little bounce to his steady hold and Junior squirms, little claws resting on his shoulders to tilt his head up to look him in the eyes.
"That's right, Junior!" Lemmy coos eagerly. The end of his snout practically rubs against Junior's. "It's a ball."
"Ba-ball!" Junior hops in his arms, excited.
Lemmy lets out a possessed, high-pitched squeal from the display of cuteness in front of him before he walks them over to said object. He sets down Junior, spreads his arms wide and Junior claps accordingly with exuberant giggles. If animated gestures are enough to amaze Junior; wait until he sees what Lemmy's practice has reaped.
Crouching down, Lemmy glances behind his shoulder, lining his body up with his ball. He sticks out his little tongue, concentrating and testing his blind luck. With a hop of fate and a flourishing twirl, he lands his impressive stunt on the ball. Unsteadily, the ball shifts from the newly added weight, but he's able to right himself.
Junior's happy claps become squeals and he repeats 'ball' like he's casting a spell or chanting for his favorite sports team. Lemmy bows, adding in a few waves to his audience of one. Junior mirrors back Lemmy's waves with a closed fist wave of his own and once again blurts out his first word.
It's not a word Lemmy expected Junior to know first. Bowser has been adamant on dropping as many 'dada's' as he can in his sentences whenever Junior is around to hear it. The king loves sprinkling them in at the most opportune times in his impressive baby voice he denies doing.
When Bowser isn't trying to coerce his son into speaking, Lemmy and Iggy take over the task instead. They've tried to get Junior to say 'Ka-boom!' before the infant drops a dada bomb for comedic purposes and to playfully irritate Bowser.
Of course, like Bowser, their many attempts warrant no success once so ever and Junior remains content, stubbornly speaking entirely in baby babble. Until now. Who would have thought his first word would be ball?
Lemmy decides he has to show someone. No, no, maybe all of his siblings need to celebrate this occasion. With a plan forming in his mind, Lemmy waits impatiently for the nanny to return so he can bolt out of this colorful room that suddenly feels like it's been turned into a prison.
…
Lemmy successfully gathers his siblings in the playroom after the nanny returns with a sandwich for him and dry cereal for Junior. Lemmy had scarfed it down so fast he almost choked then rushed off to herd his six siblings. He waits with anxious eyes and an impatient hop in his steps as the children pile in before he explains why he's called an abrupt family meeting.
"Everyone," Lemmy announces with a flourish, like he's addressing an audience. He directs a hand to the wide-eyed prince staring curiously up at all the new faces in the room. "Junior said his first word." He leans in eagerly like he's about to spill the dirtiest secret. "Guess what it is."
"Why should we care?" Roy rolls his eyes and follows it up with a derisive grunt.
Lemmy refuses to be dissuaded. "C'mon, Roy!" He grins, rocking excitedly on his heels. "We've been there for Morton's, Wendy's, and Larry's first words. Now it's Junior's turn."
The deadpan expression on Roy's face says it all. "Yeah, we were there because they're our siblings." Roy gestures to Junior with a dismissive flick of his head. "This is Bowser's tiny demon spawn. He's not one of us."
Lemmy's excitement over the situation experiences a critical blow. He struggles to recover from the aftermath. His smile falters as he carefully pieces together his next words, hoping to not set Roy off. Sometimes Roy misinterprets situations or words too quickly and that causes more disasters then calms his ire.
Lemmy hears Morton gasp loudly like he's offended enough for the both of them, beating Lemmy to it. The young child throws a pretty impressive glare at Roy before he fumbles through the barrier of siblings and hustles towards Junior with a pout sitting on his face.
Morton pats Junior once on his head as some form of solidarity. "Junior is," he states firmly with a stomp of his foot. "Junior is one of us."
Roy scoffs, eyes shooting towards the ceiling like he can't even look at Morton, but says nothing more. Lemmy knows Roy hates debating with the younger children. He finds those pointless arguments a waste of his time since they're too naïve to understand a thing. If only that were true, Lemmy laments mentally; they're not as unknowing as they seem.
"What's his first word?" Wendy asks, seemingly deciding to perk Lemmy back up instead of bringing him down further.
It works. Lemmy's smile returns with a happy vengeance. He presents Junior with an exaggerated extension of his arm. "Why don't you ask him?"
For all the shouting Junior had done before, the baby decides he's done enough talking for today and plays mindlessly with the ball instead. He hops onto it with a battle cry, tackling the poor ball. He starts rolling around using his stomach to gyrate and travel short distances. He also really enjoys the bounciness of the material.
Lemmy mouth twitches, growing slightly annoyed by Junior's sudden display of defiance. "C'mon, Junior. You said ball a few minutes ago."
Iggy approaches Lemmy, arms crossed. He eyes Junior with disinterest, before snapping his dull gaze to Lemmy. "Ball is his first word?" He snorts. "He's been hanging around you too much."
Lemmy's reply is to stick out his tongue and elbow his brother lightly in the side. Iggy cackles, returning the favor with more force causing Lemmy to squeak and lose his footing. Ludwig, as vigilante as ever, swoops in before Lemmy tumbles.
Ludwig directs Iggy with one of his patented "Dad glares" (Roy and Iggy's new name for them). Iggy shrugs, seemingly unapologetic, but Lemmy notices the brief flash of guilt cross his features because even he isn't immune to these scathing looks Ludwig is slowly starting to perfect.
While Ludwig continues to unrelentingly stare Iggy down, Wendy and Morton focus on Junior. With a goal in mind, they begin to attempt to coax Junior into saying this magic word. Wendy pulls him into her lap and tries using her cutesy voice, but Junior squirms, becoming extremely bored of her game quickly.
Morton tries a different, more visual approach. He grabs a crayon from their large collection, not yet broken or worn down from overuse and sets to work. Morton holds up his poorly drawn ball like he's presenting an award.
"What's this, Junior?" Morton points a claw to the paper, tapping it a few times for emphasis.
The baby blinks wondrously up at Morton like he has suddenly sprouted seven heads and eyes. The stubborn baby remains firmly silent, even going as far as pressing his lips tightly together. Lemmy hides a few snickers, not wanting to upset Morton or give the child the wrong impression.
Morton isn't discouraged by Junior's dry reaction. "It's a ball!" he exclaims instead.
The two of them switch tactics, burying into toy boxes to pull out any ball or spherical object they can find. As the young children hand Junior their findings, the young prince becomes more and more finicky. Lemmy isn't surprised they acquiesce to Junior when the baby whines, kicking his little feet and violently hurling balls across the room. One almost decks Roy in the face from his spot on the bean bag chair. Thankfully, Roy ducks in time.
Lemmy sighs, placing a hand over his face. Of course Junior is being difficult. Now he looks like a big liar in front of all his siblings who wasted their time. He can tell by Ludwig's twitching fingers, Iggy shaking foot, and Roy's yawn that they're ready to make their getaway. Lemmy panics when Ludwig turns towards the door.
They can't leave yet! He's definitely not crazy and he's definitely not a liar!
"I swear he said it," Lemmy pleads to Ludwig. "I fell off my ball when he did!"
Ludwig's head whips around to face him. "You—" His eyes expand, he hurriedly approaches Lemmy. "Where? Are you hurt?"
Before Lemmy has time to react, Ludwig places his hands firmly on Lemmy's cheeks and swivels his head, inspecting for any injuries.
Lemmy attempts to pull away, but can't muster enough strength within him to escape. He curses his smaller stature. "Ludwig, I'm fine. I promise nothing is broken."
Ludwig's relents with a soft sigh, releasing his hold on him, bombarding Lemmy with more questions pertaining to his fall. Why must Ludwig be so overprotective of him in particular?
"Ludwig?" Larry's tiny voice pulls Ludwig and Lemmy out of their conversation. Simultaneously, they turn to smile down at their youngest brother.
Ludwig crouches to his height. "What is it, Larry?"
Larry cocks his head to the side. "What are they doing?" he points to Morton rolling a ball towards Junior, repeating the word whenever the infant rolls it back to him.
Ludwig grins at the sight then fixes that grin back down to an awaiting Larry. "We're trying to get Junior to say 'ball.'"
Larry scrunches up his face like he's disgusted. "Why? I can say ball." He directs a scathing look at Junior, mouth twisted humorously, like he's attempting to mimic Ludwig's signature scowl but doesn't have the face muscles to pull it off. Then his curious eyes flicker up to Ludwig. "Is he dumb?"
Lemmy snorts out a chuckle, then bites his cheek to keep himself from breaking out into a fit of giggles. He shouldn't encourage name calling, but Larry sounds so genuine he can't help himself.
"He's not dumb. Junior is younger than you," Ludwig explains with practiced patience. "He can't talk yet."
"Oh." Larry's expression shifts to something less hostile as he regards Junior with reluctance, still uncertain on how to react to the baby. It must be strange to be the youngest for three years of your life only to meet someone far younger than you.
Lemmy can't recall a time like that, since he was far too young to remember when Roy came along. When he was finally old enough to remember anything, Iggy had already been a year old.
Roy scoffs from his resting place only a foot away. His eyes are closed as he sinks further into the bean bag chair. "I can't believe we're wasting time trying to get him to talk. Maybe you misheard the brat or maybe he doesn't want to listen to us."
"Roy's right," Iggy chimes in, matching Roy's level of irritation with his own. "The kid is as stubborn as his dad."
"Neither of you tried anything," Wendy snaps as she folds her arms, glaring at her two uncooperative brothers.
Iggy rolls his eyes, sauntering over to the baby sitting on the ground, surrounded by possibly every bouncy ball in the castle. He kicks Morton's ball out of his way, causing Morton to frown and puff out an impressive cloud of smoke. Lemmy momentarily wonders when he started doing that.
"Alright, Junior," Iggy kneels down to the baby's level, staring at him intently. "I'm only doing this once—" he takes a dramatic pause. "Can you say ball?"
"Ball," Junior repeats giddily, crawling into Iggy's unsuspecting arms. Without much prompt, and after making such a big fuss before, Iggy immediately picks the baby up.
"Okay," Iggy snorts, unimpressed, but highly amused. "So maybe he can say it."
"See!" Lemmy exclaims in relief.
"What makes Iggy so special?" Roy questions, side-eying his brother like the answer is right in front of him, but he can't decipher the context because it's in a completely different language.
"My amazing personality, maybe," Iggy muses dryly, drawing laughter from the children old enough to catch his sarcasm. The younger children soon join in, though only because they're mimicking their eldest siblings.
Lemmy watches as Junior vacantly stares up at Iggy until his curious fingers reach for his glasses sitting on his snout. Iggy jolts his head away, using a hand to grab at the baby's fingers. Instinctively, Junior's tiny fingers curl around Iggy's, squeezing them till they begin to turn more pale.
"Stop that," Iggy scolds. "It's bad enough I'm getting a bald patch from you yanking my hair out of my scalp. I need these to see."
He pawns the baby off to an unexpected Ludwig when Junior refuses to quell his new fixation on his glasses and Iggy grows more annoyed and impatient each time he has to fix them.
Ludwig, who takes the baby without a complaint, encouragingly praises the little prince for a job well done. His attempts at getting the infant to repeat the word are sadly ignored.
Lemmy decides Iggy must have the magic touch. It's ironic that the one who claims to despise babies (despite always holding one whenever the opportunity arises) and disregards anyone's comments stating otherwise is one of Junior's favorites.
"Perhaps we should let Bowser know of this," Ludwig muses, interrupting Lemmy's train of thought. The oldest bounces Junior in his arms. "It is his son's first word."
"I haven't seen him all day," Wendy comments with a finger tapping against her mouth.
"He's probably doing paperwork," Iggy shrugs. "Kamek's got the king practically tied to the desk so he can't get out of it."
"With how much he tries weaseling his way out of doing work, you'd think nothing gets done in this kingdom," Roy adds, accompanied by a snort, and roll of his eyes.
No one jumps to Bowser's defense. Lemmy cannot help but reluctantly agree. Although he supposes work must get done if the kingdom hasn't collapsed yet.
"How do we get him out of it, though?" Iggy taps his chin, narrowing his eyes as he contemplates. So that's where Wendy gets it from.
Ludwig smiles, a rare mischievous gaze meeting Wendy's bewildered stare. "I may have an idea."
The plan they devise together is to send Wendy; she's the one child able to strum at Bowser's easily played heartstrings and even Kamek has difficulty saying no if she lays on the sweetness. Lemmy can see why, too.
Wendy excitedly nods as Ludwig relays the plan to her a second time to ensure she understands her mission. She races out the door, fast pitter-patters growing distant as she storms off down the hall.
Lemmy already knows their plan is going to work before Roy loudly questions their sister's integrity—they just have to be patient.
…
"Maybe we can request resources from another kingdom? We have enough ore and minerals to spare," is Kamek's helpful, but placidly spoken suggestion.
Bowser sighs for what feels like the thousandth time today. With a hurried glance at the clock he hopes Kamek doesn't notice he inconspicuously checks the time. His heart sinks when he sees it's not even close to dinner time yet.
Kamek then scribbles something down in his notes—maybe he's keeping track of Bowser's constant sigh breaks as his own form of entertainment. At least one of them is having fun here.
Bowser kneads at his tension headache pricking around his skull like a torturous halo. "This wouldn't be so difficult if Dad didn't cut every damn tie he had with the outside world," Bowser grumbles, staring blankly at the document in front of him.
The door to his study groans as it's pushed open, impeding on his paperwork time. Bowser cooks up his best glare, launching it towards the fool brave enough to interrupt him. Numerous insults are already burning on his tongue only for them to fizzle out when he notices who it is.
A pair of Koopa Troopas stare in wide-eyed horror behind Wendy as she confidently steps inside like she runs the place. Truthfully, with how self-assured her saunter is, Bowser is seconds away from signing the kingdom over to her and taking a vacation.
"Apologies, King Bowser," the Koopa Troopa with the blue shell hurriedly says as he adjusts his helmet falling off his head. "We tried to stop her."
Bowser waves it off. Stopping a five-year-old as ambitious and driven as Wendy is next to impossible. He may as well try to walk on lava or bribe Iggy into giving up sarcasm for a day.
He sets down his favorite pen he's been white-knuckling in his hand, thankful for the unexpected visit while keeping up appearances in front of Kamek that he isn't. "What's up, Wendy? I'm pretty busy right now."
Wendy doesn't look nervous or frightened or bothered at all. She just appears impatient as she purposefully steps towards his desk without delay. "I know, I know, but this is super important," she enunciates.
Kamek and Bowser share a glance. He looks back at Wendy's pleading face. "How important?"
She clasps her hands in front of her pouting mouth, adding on the charm by staring up at them with those pretty blue eyes of hers. "Super, very, very, very important."
Bowser throws Kamek a sideways glance. "Did you hear that, Kamek? One 'super' and three 'very's."
The fleeting glance meant for Kamek transforms into a pathetic stare reminiscent of a child as he mentally begs Kamek for reprieve. It makes Bowser wonder who the child really is in this scenario, but his pride doesn't mind the comparison at the moment. It wants to get out of here as much as he does.
Bowser spots the exact Kamek relents. With a heavy exhale and a deflate of his shoulders, Kamek shakes his head. "Yes, yes, it sounds like you should take care of this." Bowser can hear the smile softening his advisor's usually cynical tone as he shoos them with a wave of his hand.
Bowser practically hops out of his chair. Following behind Wendy, she skips to their destination, glancing behind her to make sure he's still following. She leads him to the open door of the playroom and Bowser is surprised to find all seven of the children together.
Though Roy has quarantined himself from the excitement of the group by chilling in a beanbag chair and Iggy is scowling for some inexplicable reason, leaning against the wall like he hopes to be forgotten.
It's rare to see them all together like this. The more comfortable and accustomed they grow to their surroundings, the more they begin to branch out, finding their own hobbies to pursue.
The youngest children can be found here most days with Lemmy acting as a leader and form of entertainment. Ludwig gets a much needed and earned break from big brother duties and spends a lot of his time in the library or the pseudo storage room/music room now containing actual instruments instead of musty old boxes since Bowser isn't ever going to use it for its intended purpose.
At least someone will appreciate the acoustics of the room meant to exacerbate the notes and keys of songs Bowser won't ever write. While Iggy frequents the greenhouse to visit his plant or snoops around the airships, pestering the moles with questions. He's been scolded by them plenty of times due to his unquenchable need to fiddle with anything with wires. And Roy—Bowser isn't sure where he disappears to, but he always pops up eventually.
As Bowser takes in all the commotion, he notices the nanny hired to watch over his son is nonexistent and while Bowser feels a pang of irritation, he isn't about to kill the mood by berating her or questioning her whereabouts. Besides, Ludwig is responsible enough to know when Junior needs assistance or a diaper change. Bowser is almost certain it's Ludwig who sends her away and has demoted her job as nanny to diaper-changer/snack-fetcher.
"Bowser!" Lemmy exclaims at the sight of them, waving them over. "We have something to show you."
Ludwig nods in agreement, shifting Junior in his arms. Bowser maneuvers around an unhealthy assortment of bouncy balls he wasn't aware he owned to get to the gathering in the middle of the room. When he reaches Ludwig, he extends his arms out prepared to take his son, but for once, Ludwig rebuffs, shaking his head.
Bowser can tell his son also isn't ready to leave Ludwig's arms yet either. He actually pouts at this, too upset and hurt by the sting of rejection to adjust his expression accordingly. Thankfully, Ludwig hides his mirth, directing his attention to Junior.
"Go on, Junior," Ludwig encourages lightly. "Show Bowser what you've learned."
Silence. Nothing. Junior stares, bushy red eyebrows scrunched like he's constipated or passing gas. Strangely enough, all the siblings simultaneously direct their attention to Iggy hovering away from their circle, arms crossed and looking bored. Even Roy, who usually refuses to conform to the group, is eying Iggy steadily from his cozy spot in the bean bag chair.
Whatever their stares are broadcasting to Iggy; he receives the signal loud and clear. He stiffens momentarily then he groans out of pure frustration, sliding a hand down his face and smudging up his glasses. He stomps over to the baby in Ludwig's arms.
He directs the infant with an intense glare, but Junior merely giggles cutely up at him. "This isn't funny, Junior," Iggy fumes, "Just say ball."
"Ball!" Junior repeats back.
Bowser is thankful he hadn't taken his son away from Ludwig because he would have dropped him. Bowser's initial shock melts away, a proud smile quickly taking its place. This time, he takes his son in his arms without any fight from Ludwig and holds him high like a first place trophy.
"Your first word," Bowser beams. "You did it, kiddo!"
"Ball," is Junior's giddy response.
The younger children gather around, joining in on the tiny achievement with giggles and claps of their own. After celebrating his son's accomplishment with the children and wasting an hour of his paperwork time, Kamek eventually comes to fetch Bowser. He sternly reminds him of his unfinished work sitting untouched on his desk.
Bowser supposes he's done enough goofing off for today. Ludwig promises to look after Junior as Bowser plants kisses on the baby's face, promising to see him later. He gently and reluctantly hands him off to Ludwig.
When Iggy steps forward, jokingly asking for a kiss of his own, Bowser seizes the rare opportunity to catch the demon off guard. To his own surprise and bashfulness, Bowser actually plants a sloppy one right on the smart-ass' forehead. The scream of disgust that ensues as Iggy furiously wipes away the saliva is enough to cause the other children to break out into hysterics.
With a pathetic wave, Bowser is escorted back to his study, trailed by a chuckling Kamek. The king sulks the entire way, drawing a fond scoff out of the mage who gives him an encouraging push that Bowser barely feels at all.
"You'll see them in a few hours, Your Sadness." Kamek pats Bowser's arm as a gesture of comfort. "Cheer up, we only have twenty more documents left to read."
Bowser groans exasperatedly.
…
Returning to work isn't as easy as Kamek makes it seem. Bowser, usually seen as ornery or crass to outsiders, is almost unrecognizable as he recounts Junior's big event with a lazy grin plastered on his stupidly handsome face and a calm disposition.
Eventually, the mage accedes to Bowser's euphoric daze, muttering under his breath though smiling nonetheless. Instead of nagging, Kamek wordlessly flips through a weathered tome while Bowser reminisces about his son while sifting through his photo album, nostalgic. He can't help it; his son is finally talking when months ago he was a drooling little bean. Er… well, Junior said one word, but that's a big hurdle for a baby.
Bowser cannot deny he's thrilled, but there's a small part of him that refuses to get the memo. That miniscule part is upset that Junior's first word isn't something as heartfelt and common as 'dada', but then he takes a page from Lemmy's repertoire of positivity, and starts to see the bright side of things for once.
Junior's first word is something one of the children holds dear to their heart despite Lemmy maturely claiming (like Ludwig) that materialistic items aren't as important as his family. He can't hide or conceal the fact he's still a child with grown up proclamations he was forced to learn too soon. When Bowser gifted the child his very own circus ball, Lemmy gasped like the excited child he is, eager to try it out.
His undeniable love for acrobatics and circus tricks and his need to practice them has influenced Bowser's son to the point the infant felt inclined to learn the name of Lemmy's favorite object. It's not a stretch to abashedly assert that Junior loves Lemmy like a big brother. Of course, this also includes the rest of them.
Since Junior started to walk, he began following them all around like a duckling trailing behind its mother. Even Larry, who alternates between scratching his head or broadcasting uncertain glares around the baby, sometimes blunders through the kitchen with Junior on his heels without complaints or shares his cookies when he's feeling generous.
Maybe this is the push Bowser really needs to get himself together. He has the tools to cement this family together, he just has to use them. If things work out, he'll be a father of eight instead of one.
Without warning, he experiences that familiar ache in his chest whenever he's away from Junior or the kids for too long. It's a desperate need, a need that can only be remedied by his son's cute face or the raucous shouts of the children. He closes the photo album, tapping his claws against the desk until he decides he can't take it any more.
Kamek says nothing as Bowser gets up. He raises his head in his general direction with a disapproving frown, like he knows where Bowser is off to. Bowser half expects the mage to tackle him before he gets to the door, but Kamek remains firmly seated, silently judging him because Bowser can sense his agitation from where he stands. He chooses to ignore it, slipping out the door.
Bowser makes his way back to the playroom, telling himself he just wants to check up on them. Whether they'll all still be there, he can't say, but he needs to see their faces once more before he's trapped in paperwork hell for the next hour before dinner.
He finds the nanny outside the door, tiptoeing away while balancing a tray of empty plates and glasses in one hand. She politely bows in greeting before placing a finger to her lips, a universal sign to keep quiet. Bowser is too flummoxed by her boldness to ask why, deciding to let it go because he's wasting time here.
He opens the door to still silence. It's a stark contrast to the noise he walked into only an hour and a half ago. Bowser's fiery red gaze jumps from child to child now taking advantage of what's probably supposed to be Junior's nap time but somehow turned into everyone's.
As if Bowser will complain about the peace for once. He quietly takes a mental rollcall of all eight little snot bags snoozing away, hoping it's enough to tame his fatherly instincts.
Iggy is curled up beside Roy, who has a protective arm draped over his little brother's plastron while both of them snooze away on the bean bag chair big enough for two. Bowser releases a breathy chuckle; even while he sleeps Roy is ready to fight anyone brave enough to bring his family harm.
With his dark blue shell pressed against the wall, Ludwig is securely wrapped in a blanket, an unfinished book resting in his lap, abandoned and forgotten. Bowser almost misses the lumpy figure of Morton buried into his older brother's side, concealed by the mass of the fluffy comforter like it's his own man made cave made of cotton.
Near the crafts table, Wendy has Larry in a tight embrace, pulled close to her with a blanket haphazardly thrown over the both of them. Bowser notices with a growing grin that Larry's hair is riddled with bows and cute ribbons she must have placed in his hair while he began to doze off.
Not far from her is Lemmy and Junior. How they're both asleep is a mystery to Bowser since their positions cannot be comfortable in the slightest. The perks of being young and flexible, Bowser supposes. Lemmy is flat on his shell, slightly alleviated from the ground by his nubby spikes with Junior sprawled out on his stomach, conked out. They're both so tiny Bowser is sometimes afraid he'll break them.
Damn, they're cute.
Bowser gently closes the door on the sight of the blissfully sleeping family. He may have to postpone dinner tonight—damn, and they were having spicy steak slathered with chili sauce too! Despite his stomach's vocal complaints, Bowser smiles, stomping quietly towards the direction of the kitchen for a light snack.
Oh the lengths and sacrifices he'll make for his family.
My completely not nuclear and extremely hectic family.
My holiday plans were cancelled for me due to a very dangerous snow storm. Hope everyone else enjoyed theirs! This has been in my WIPs so I finished it in a day and I dunno what else to say. I love the song it's named after.