Disclaimer: I do NOT own Meet the Robinsons
AN: Hey All! No! This fic won't be abandoned in the far recesses of my mind to rot! XD
I just had one of those writer trip-ups. I wrote a chapter all out. : D then realized I actually needed another chapter between last chapter and that chapter D : (Which meant I was back to square one!) Good News! Next chapter should be up pretty darn quick! XD
Thank you for your reviews! I eat them up! : D All the positive feedback is really getting me pumped up for this fic. I'm sooo glad you guys are liking this! I've really enjoyed writing these characters…and torturing Neil ^^
Heh heh heh, my sister would just die—she thinks I couldn't understand let alone write romance to save my life! XDDD
To "The-Name-Doesn't-Matter" I found the Framagucci surname when I went hunting on the internet. : D Too much spare time and persnicketiness XDDDD
(However I will admit and would appreciate it if anyone could inform me: What was the orphanage's name? I know Miss Mildred Duffy ran it, but what was IT called?)
But I digress:
Again Thank You for your encouragement—Reviewers! YOU are AWESOME! (Cuz I won't know how you feel unless you tell me! And I LOVE hearing from you!)
Chapter 3
"Neil!" Franny giggled, squirming on his lap. "Neil that tickles!"
He chuckled, holding her more tightly against him—ignoring her plea and continuing one of his favorite new pastimes: nuzzling his nose just beneath her ear.
She always smelled SO good and her skin was so soft; he'd use any excuse to touch it.
Franny ran her hand through his hair, pulling him closer.
Resting his face against her neck, utterly content, he kept thinking; if they could just stay like this forever…
His raven-haired beauty pulled away, while he grumbled in protest.
Laughing lightly as she turned towards him, caressing his face gently with her dainty fingertips. He sighed, relishing the contact—forever, he wanted forever for them.
"Cornelius" she spoke softly, cupping his face in her hands "Cornelius, I lov-"
Beep Beep BEEP!
Cornelius fell out of bed with a THUMP!
He groaned, reached up and slammed his hand on his alarm clock—shutting it up.
Stupid thing always interrupted the good part.
For a moment he just sat there, legs crossed—more disgruntled than embarrassed. He kept having this dream over and over. His initial reaction on Monday morning had been shocked mortification that his imagination could conjure such a thing. (Surely it was a terrible violation of Franny!) Now Friday, he was pouting over the fact that he never got to hear her finish that "I love you."
Come on, just because reality's being mean, why was fantasy playing hard-to-get too?
He just wasn't catching ANY breaks.
He sighed, massaging his temples; he was a brilliant inventor—capable of solving complex conundrums of the universe! Why was romance so tough?
No, no he couldn't think like that.
He had a plan! Stick to the plan!
His eyes flitted to the corkboard behind his door, plastered with tips and post-it's like:
"Smile!" and "Maintain Eye Contact" and "Good Posture," as well as some stapled pages labeled "Anecdotes" and "Romantic Ambiance Spots" (with corresponding pictures).
He probably shouldn't have posted: Master Plan at the top, but well…old habits die hard…he blames Wilbur…the whole "Mission" stuff rubbed off…
Alfonzo Framagucci spent all of Friday in a frantic tangle of nerves.
That boy would be driving Alfonzo's baby girl tomorrow…unsupervised…
Assuming Cornelius didn't get them killed on interstate and they arrived intact, there was nothing to stop him from trying to pull any…funny business…
Two whole years older than her…just a little younger than Gaston…
He felt himself frowning…usually he thought nothing of Gaston gallivanting around town with a girl in tow. And the way Gaston dated…Alfonzo never knew them long enough to learn their names.
He'd always shrugged it off as a "boys will be boys" until now.
Thinking of Franny being actively pursued and discarded after two dates…especially by a boy she clearly liked…
He set down his grocery basket harder than intended—scaring the two shoppers behind him.
His wife had called him earlier asking that he pick up some extra spaghetti noodles and bread.
He'd swiftly agreed; ANYTHING to keep him out of the house a little while longer. Franny was on Cloud 9 and while he always wanted his daughter happy, the bespectacled reason for her bout of joy had him less than enthused.
In the check-out line trying not to read the outrageous captions of numerous tabloid magazines…especially since all of them seemed to feature "who's the father?" headlines.
While setting his items on the conveyer belt, he overheard the couple in front him laughing with the check-out lady.
"-and then Cornelius fired it up and BOOM peanut butter and jelly everywhere. EVERYWHERE! Bless his little heart, he tried so hard—he knows I love a good PB & J. I think that Mother's Day will go down in my books as one of the most precious-"
"Cornelius Robinson?" Alfonzo inquired abruptly.
"You know our boy?" the man asked.
They were his parents?
He eyed them again. Mismatching clothes and a certain…goofiness…poor kid…he'd inherited it from both sides…
Really though…the man's outfit was on…backwards…weird people…
Oh yes, they were definitely his parents.
"He spoke at my daughter's awards ceremony."
"Oh? What did she present?"
That was the question he always dreaded. He wished he could say Physics, or Marine Biology, or Socio-economics or something complex that would oooh listeners and not prompt them to ask more questions…Alas.
"….frogs" he sighed "singing frogs."
"Oh! Franny!" they both exclaimed.
"We met her at a Science Fair a few years ago. I'm Lucille" she offered her hand, which Alfonzo shook rather perplexed "My husband Bud."
"How'd'ya do?" Mr. Robinson asked shaking his hand vigorously.
Lucille clapped her hands excitedly, "Franny's still holding onto her dream then?"
Alfonzo nodded dumbly—unsure of how to receive this sort of reaction. No hint of derision or mean smile or worse: sympathy—like it was only a matter of time before they threw in the towel and sent her to the loony bin.
"Good for her!" her husband added cheerfully.
"Can you just imagine the impact she'll make on the singing world, when she succeeds! It'll completely revolutionize record companies, expanding the career option for singers of ALL backgrounds. Why not bend the borders of a ruthlessly enforced taxonomy? Surely the Mammalia Class could learn a thing or two from other singing organisms!" Lucille gushed.
When. Not if. When.
"Oh! And I think Neilly's helpin' her out tomorrow with-with-with-well he's driving her somewhere she needs to be-"
"Karate" Alfonzo put in.
"Yes!
"We offered to drive him both, but he insists that Franny will need absolute concentration and that we'll probably make a spectacle of ourselves."
No kidding.
"You know how teenagers are" Bud laughed good-naturedly.
"I think he's afraid we'll tell her about his recent exploits with Mopper 3000."
Both roared with laughter while an oblivious Alfonzo stood by.
"I-I did want to set some ground rules for their trip" he stated seriously.
"Of course" Bud agreed wiping a tear of mirth from his eye "We completely understand, though I do assure you. He's a good boy and you've nothing to fear."
"We live on the outskirts of town, you can follow us there" Lucille offered helpfully. "I'm sure Neil's probably home right now; he texted us earlier saying that his Chemistry lesson ended early."
Mr. Framagucci reasoned that since his food items were nonperishable and his wife knew how busy traffic could be. He had nothing to lose.
"Yes, thank you. This would really help put my anxieties to rest."
Mr. and Mrs. Robinson smiled encouragingly, "we completely understand."
He doubted it. Unless they had a daughter, they didn't know a thing.
Cornelius hosed down his Yaris—very fuel efficient vehicle for the era. Though Neil was sure his hovercar would trump it easily. He just needed to synthesize a better fuel.
The week had rushed by far too swiftly. It felt like it was just yesterday, he received her instructions.
Apparently, she'd found one of his tutoring e-mail accounts. He'd completely forgotten to give it to her before leaving. Luckily, he came up on Google's Search Engine or so Franny had discovered. She'd typed that he "was a hard man to get a hold of."
He'd winced reading that. Right. After numerous harassing calls of both praise and criticism, his parents had taken their number out of the phone listing.
Cornelius apologized profusely; taking extra care to message her back on his personal email account, offer his cell phone number, and requesting her permission to "friend" her on his IM system.
She'd accepted and asked for his permission in turn.
He couldn't help grinning at her user name: FroggyPrincess4Ever
Tomorrow…
Tomorrow the two of them would be together…alone…unsupervised…
After being thoroughly harassed by Nancy and Kyle, he'd hesitantly informed them of his somewhat successful venture.
They'd clapped him on the back, heartily congratulating him before springing into a tsunami of unsolicited advice:
Like hands, where to place them during Dates 1-12…and how you had to earn each new place…
Or pet names…how to accept that your new name is Monkeyface and/or Sugar-Snookums…
Or…dear god…kissing…remember not too much tongue in the beginning…
Well…through it all…Cornelius learned ONE helpful fact: You CANNOT Die From Humiliation…no matter HOW awful and mortified you were made to feel. Yeah, he's still deciding whether that's a comforting tidbit or not…
Thrill and dread mingled in his stomach; he'd spent the past week stocking up on online dating advice.
Apparently the biggest pitfall for "smart guys" was "Not Taking Action" and "Expecting to be Right All-the-Time" and "Over-Thinking."
So far he fit in their category too well for his liking.
Yeah, considering the one-on-one romantic moments he and Franny should have already shared—he totally should've had his kiss by now…which was…frustrating…
Yeah, he liked being right…but…with all the inventions he'd had blow up in his face, he felt he could weather his share of being wrong.
Really, he can't count on one hand all the times he'd cheerfully cut the blue wire instead of the red one…yeah…ouch…but one trait he's very proud of is that his eyebrows ALWAYS grow back—a real boon in his line of work.
But what really irked him about the site was how they defined all his nice acts as "Over-thinking" that any schmuck could do it—that she wouldn't find his kindness sincere.
Like:
Buying appropriate snacks for them to share—healthy stuff for the first part, candy bars and soda for afterwards—might even take her out somewhere (you know if things were working out.)
Picking out a suitable outfit (t-shirt, jeans, sneakers) since nerds tended to stand out at athletic events—in a bad way. Yeah, a sweater vest in that arena would be a bull's eye.
Making sure his car was clean and fresh and immaculate. Come on, let's have some STANDARDS people.
So yeah, stocking his glove compartment with essentials like napkins might seem like a shot in the dark—but you only ever need a napkin when you don't have one. So he's warding that one away.
Before he could stop it an unbidden phrase floated through his mind.
If you perceive that there are four possible ways in which something can go wrong, and circumvent these, then a fifth way, unprepared for, will promptly develop. It will be impossible to fix the fifth fault, without breaking the fix on one or more of the others.
Darn Murphy and his laws!
Cornelius ran a hand through his blond spikes.
True, he may be a bit…obsessive right now, but far better to try a bit too hard than not show enough effort, right?
This was for Franny…
He wanted things perfect for her. And it was also a good time to test out his new and improved vacuum cleaner on his car's interior.
Given his first impression of the boy, Alfonzo thought the boy nerdy, bookish, and odd—better suited to classrooms and libraries than normal life.
He and Franny would have NOTHING in common. Besides, her frog fetish Alfonzo was proud to deem her NORMAL. (Unlike his middle child, who had a disturbing fascination with gunpowder—he was very afraid that one day he'd come home to find part of his son missing due to an ill-thought-out experiment.)
Cornelius struck him as the type to probably whine about weather—choosing to shun sunlight.
So he was quite surprised to see the boy outdoors drying off a car.
Fitted in a loose tang top and cut off shorts sans glasses—head bobbing in beat with the boom-box blaring in the driveway.
Looking and acting like a teenage boy should…for some reason knowing that those glasses could come off and he could take up manly chores was strangely comforting.
Call him old-fashioned but it was heartening to see a young man taking pride in his car.
To his own chagrin, the kid's place in his esteem kept rising. Almost seventeen years old, extensive schooling, internships, career-oriented, successful…and knew how to upkeep his vehicle.
Careful Al, you might start to like this kid…
"Hey Neil!" Bud called arms full of groceries.
The blond looked over "Mom! Dad!" He tossed the towel down and walked over to the open car trunk.
"You can finish up, don't want her to streak" Mr. Robinson stated.
"Nah its fine, I'm done. I'm gonna wash the windows and interior next. I could use a break" his son replied easily, taking the 24-pack of soda from his mother with a "Hey Mom let me give you a hand, that's heavy."
He turned, ready to make the trek up to the house when-
"Whoa!" the young inventor stumbled back a step "Er um Hello Mr. Framagucci sir," He barely held onto the box.
"Hello Cornelius" the dark-haired man greeted.
"I-um-nice to see you sir. I'll just, uh, get this inside, you can…come in. Mom and Dad love guests. But you..er…probably figured that out since…they probably…invited you…this way to the door!"
"Well make yourself right at home, would you like a drink?" Mrs. Robinson asked.
"Oh that isn't necessary."
"Root beer, Dr. Pepper, Coke, lemonade-"
"Lemonade would be great" he relented.
"Lemonade it is!" Lucille chirped, scurrying away.
He wandered a bit into the hallway where a cluster of photos had caught his eye on the way in.
Tons of science events and awards ceremonies along with a few vacations-the three of them in ski gear, in scuba gear, in…he blinked…hang gliding?
Robinsons…
He supposed that in a family so odd, bizarre WAS normal. Oddly enough he found himself smirking at that—it was almost refreshing somehow…
Acknowledging that, the only aspect that still struck him as peculiar was how the photos seemed to range from preteens till now.
Where were the embarrassing Dear-God-Mom-Don't-Let-People-See-That-One pictures? Those precious keepsakes (coughcollateralcough) were what made parenthood so great.
"I know what you're thinking" Lucille murmured, coming up behind him "We don't have any baby pictures of him."
He blanched a bit guiltily as she handed him a glass.
"Miss Duffy says she's going to look through her albums for us and get us some earlier photos."
Alfonzo blinked "Miss Duffy, caretaker of that little orphanage. 7th Stride Street, just off Elm?"
She nodded, "Lovely woman. I'm glad Neil had her to care for him before we found each other."
He and the boys were paying a visit to her tomorrow. Several beams in the house needed reinforcement. And Earl was going to check the heat and plumbing.
Cornelius. Adopted?
"I'd have never known" he murmured aloud.
Lucille beamed.
Alfonzo sipped his lemonade and bit into a chocolate chip cookie (fresh from the oven Lucille insisted he have one).
He sat at their little kitchen table, watching the family bustle around putting away groceries—dodging one another, bending under arms and laughing as they jostled to and fro.
No loud brawls. No heated conversations with forced cordial tones. No shoulder clips or glares or raspberries.
Just friendly warmth that Alfonzo couldn't help envying a bit…his house was a war zone of hormones and teen attitude.
So different….
And to think the boy had been an orphan…
Someone had given him up…this boy…newspapers were hailing him as a genius…a teen-prodigy.
And even if he wasn't…he was still two people's son…
Alfonzo couldn't understand it for the life of him.
Sure his children were a handful—loud and underfoot and obnoxious and grating and-and precious…so precious that the thought of giving any one of them away—his chest constricted; they were his little ones for now and forever.
Still, in Cornelius' case, Alfonzo could at least see that his "new" parents truly loved him. He deserved that. Every child deserved that.
"Neilly? Sweetie, Mr. Framagucci wanted to talk to you about your trip tomorrow."
The blond swallowed nervously, "Right."
Standing beside Mr. Framagucci's Camry, Cornelius briefly feared it was a preemptive move: if he answered wrong…he'd be run over…threat to daughter eliminated.
"Francesca is my littlest angel" the man stated gruffly.
"Yes sir."
"She means the world to me."
Well, Cornelius thought bleakly, at least they had ONE thing in common.
"I want you to drive safely. I want you to treat her like the upstanding young lady she is. And if anything happens—any kind of trouble, you'll need to be the man. You will take charge and see to it that she is safe."
"I would never let anything happen to Franny." Stated so solemnly that it caught Alfonzo off-guard—As though just suggesting it were sacrilegious.
"Then we understand one another."
"Yes, sir."
He closed his door and turned the ignition.
Well, at least the kid was taking his concerns seriously, though if Cornelius laid one hand on her during the trip there'd still be hell to pay.
Just because he's gained a newfound respect for the boy, doesn't mean he trusts him a bit where hormones are involved…Alfonzo was a teenager once…he knows how they think.
Franny sighed happily; Cornelius L. Robinson was taking her to a karate tournament tomorrow. Why, it was almost like a date! Almost…
The week waltzed by like a dream, schooldays blurring by in a flash, and now it was Friday night!
She hummed 'Summertime' while lathering shampoo into her hair.
Taking a hot shower the night before, so she could be up bright and early tomorrow. Her hair was always a monstrosity in the morning, so she'd need the extra time to tame it.
Didn't want to look like a TOTAL dork. Stupid cowlick…
She stretched, feeling tendons loosen and pop—she'd been training really hard for this one.
Maybe she'd win a trophy…maybe two! Maybe…maybe Cornelius would be so impressed with her abilities that-that he'd…hmm…well…she wasn't exactly sure what she wanted him to do…but it'd be nice to have him admire her for a change.
She probably seemed so ordinary to him.
This would be her chance to shine for him. Show him that she was someone worth taking an interest in.
She was Francesca A. Framagucci after all and she was going to do great things!
Yes!
Franny found herself subconsciously tracing hearts in the steamed glass of her shower door.
She flushed and immediately wiped them away with her wet palm.
Ridiculous…acting this giddy over…what?
He'd agreed to chauffeur her—that wasn't a proclamation of love.
More likely Cornelius was simply being the chivalrous guy he was, only wanted to end their family brawl.
She shouldn't be getting so worked up.
He liked that blonde chick Nina? Nanette? Nancy? Whatever—that super-smart-girl speaker.
And you know what that could mean…
She slowly sat down, letting the water wash over her as her heart ached.
If he had a preference for blondes…Franny didn't stand a chance…
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