If a 30-something-year-old alligator in a sloppy undershirt and sweats was in your kitchen, cursing quietly as he scraped burnt eggs from an unseasoned pan, what would be your reaction?

I'm sure the answer varies from Mobian to Mobian. Some would probably freak the heck out, especially since the 'gator in question is six-foot-eight and built like a bouncer. They'd reach for their wispon or a baseball bat or anything to try to reclaim their stuff. Or maybe they'd run out of the house screaming. Maybe they'd find a nice hiding place and call the police (or one of your many superpowered friends). Heck, if you've got guts or a weird sense of humor, you might laugh your sides off, given the language falling out of his mouth.

This question might've been a weird hypothetical for you, but for me, it was how many "between cases" Saturdays started.

"Come off, you stupid mother-" the alligator sputtered, growling ferociously as he tried to scrape away the last hunk of seared egg. After sawing at it with the spatula, the inedible brick of would-be breakfast finally fell into the sink with an unappealing thunk. The alligator sighed in frustration, dropping the pan and spatula into the sink with a defeated sigh. It was actually better than most mornings like this- usually, there'd be some actual expletives and loud slams. Guess after seeing "frothing-at-the-mouth angry," after a while, you settle for "pathetic."

Well, not "pathetic,' that'd be mean. He's trying his best. He's actually a good Mobian with relevant skills. It's just that none of them is "cooking eggs." He makes a mean pancake, but that's only for special occasions, like anniversaries or birthdays.

It's probably worth mentioning the alligator is my stepdad. I could've mentioned that sooner, but it would've ruined the hook if you knew that.

"Vector?"

My stepdad sighs again. "Sorry you had to see that, Cream. What a way to start a day, huh?"

"Did you already know I was here?"

"I'd be a crap PI if I didn't notice my surroundings."

See, he's got some skills. "Sorry for just standing there."

"Aw, don't sweat it. Not like you could've done anything to save 'em." He paused, then chuckled. "Guess I'm better at beating lowlifes than beating eggs, huh?"

I smile back. He's already used that one, but pointing that out would only make him feel worse. "Do you want me to make breakfast?"

"Nah, you just got up. I couldn't ask you to do anything on a Saturday." His smile turns sour a bit. "Besides, I hate just being here, doing nothing-"

"Oh no, don't you start," I step in. "Just because you're not working on a case doesn't mean you're a burden. You do so much to help Mom and I." I walk over, grabbing one of his giant hands as best I can. "Look, they're just eggs, you can try something else."

"Like?"

"Well, maybe you could make a fresh batch of pan-"

He laughs, back in something like a good mood. "Unh uh, missy, you know the rules. That's for special days."

"I dunno, it'd make today special."

"Nice try, but no cigar."

"Hey, can't blame me for trying. You're, like, the Pancake King."

"Well, that's better than being Earl of Eggs." He thinks for a hot second. "How about toast and bacon? Can't screw that up."

"Sounds good," I agreed. "Can I add a coffee on top of that?"

He chuckled again. "You gotta stop asking for that, it makes me feel old."

"Vector, you're barely 30."

"Yeah, but to me, you're still 6 sometimes. Hard for me to hear that sweet little girl ask for coffee, y'know?"

I smile and nod politely. I was never a fan of how nostalgic he got over my childhood, as if he was my real father. I'm grateful for him, really; he makes Mom very happy, and he's always looking out for us, but he shouldn't act like he was always there. I don't know, I can't explain why it makes me feel that way. Maybe Amy would know, she's great with this stuff. But one thing at a time…

"You like two spoons of sugar, right?" he asks, getting the coffee grounds out of the cabinet.

"Yep."

"Right, just making sure." He starts getting the coffee pot ready with a smooth efficiency not expected of someone his size- guess all those days as a detective taught him that stuff? I'm not sure, I try not to pry. Some of his work stories can get pretty brutal. "So, any plans this weekend?"

I pause. I actually do have plans, so to speak, but I'm not sure how to broach it with Vector, since he's part of it. Sometimes it's hard to talk to him, especially when it comes to, um, boys. His whole appearance screams 'let me show you my shotgun collection, young man,' and while my Mom insists he's a teddy bear (gag), I'm not sure he won't go full grizzly when I bring up my problem.

"Cream?"

I try to think of something to stall him. "Homework, I guess. Maybe help Mom in the garden?"

A look crosses his face as he gets the bacon out of the fridge. "Homework? Really?"

No good, he saw right through that. Sometimes it sucks having a PI as a stepdad. I switch tactics, trying to shake him off. "I'm a junior in high school, Vector. When am I not going to have some homework?"

He shrugs. "Fair enough."

Phew, bullet dodged…

"It's just that-"

Crud, spoke too soon, he's about to channel that Columbo guy. "Vector-"

"-as long as I've known you, you've always got that stuff out of the way early, so you could hang out with your friends. Heck, I saw you doing at least some last night."

"Well, maybe I didn't get it all done?" Crud, I'm getting defensive. I know I shouldn't, but it's hard not to put up a fight when he's needling. Chaos, I hope he gets a case soon…

"Maybe, but I doubt you couldn't finish, what, two, three sheets of review stuff? You're a bright girl, Cream." He pauses, waiting for me to dig myself deeper. When I don't respond, he sighs. "Look, I know something's up- you're never up this early, and you've been a bit off ever since you walked in here."

I look down at the table as if there were weights hanging on my ears. "Was it that obvious?"

"Not until you started pushing back." He paused, taking a minute to take the bacon out of the pan. "Look, I'm not as good as your mom when it comes to, um, well," he gestures to nothing in particular, "this stuff, but I still want to help. You can talk to me, Cream."

"It's… complicated?"

"Is that a question or an answer?"

"It's complicated."

"It probably isn't. Come on, Cream, please let me help."

Well, I can't run any longer. Here goes nothing. "...Can I be honest?"

"Always," he smiles, pouring my cup of coffee. "I'll try not to pry."

I breathe in. Time to see if I get Teddy or Papa Bear. "It's about…a guy?"

Vector was in the middle of putting the second spoon of sugar in before he stiffened up. There was a chilly silence, as I saw the whole laundry list of emotions pass through his eyes. "Really?"

"Y-yeah."

The silence kicks back in. Without saying a word, he assembles my plate, and puts my breakfast and coffee right in front of me. I'm worried if I look back into his eyes, I'd see something I don't want to see. As he starts assembling his own plate, he breaks the ice. "So, uh, I'm not a great guy to talk about when it comes to, uh, crushes? Do kids still use that word?"

Thank Chaos I didn't have anything in my mouth, or I would've spat it out. "What?"

"No, you're right, that was a stupid question." He chuckles nervously. "Seriously, though, I'm all ears, but I'm not sure I can, or really should, offer any advice."

I blink. This is unexpected as heck- guess Mom's version of Vector is tracking more than what I was worried about. In a way, it makes sense, given how he's often more of a goofball when he's not working, but still, it's a bit surreal. "Uh…"

"Wait, I should probably listen before saying anything else," he thinks aloud, stuffing half a piece of toast into his mouth. He looks on expectedly, as if he's interviewing a witness.

I wait until he's done hurriedly chewing, just in case he's liable to choke. "Um, well, there's a guy I like…" I pause in case he has a question, but he just motions for me to finish as he pops the rest of the toast into his maw. "He's a friend, but… uh, when I say 'like,' I mean, um, really, uh-"

Vector swallowed. "Ah, you 'like-like' him'?"

I paused, then nod awkwardly. It feels weird watching a grown Mobian use that kind of language.

"So, what's the problem?" The way he asked the question was earnest but professional, like he had a genuine interest in solving a puzzle.

I gulp. "Well, there's a lot. I don't know how to tell him. Or do I have to tell him? I mean, he's smart, maybe he's figured it out already and doesn't care? If that's the case, what do I say then?" My breathing starts getting more rapid- the spiral that kept me up last night starts kicking in. "And if he doesn't know, but still isn't interested, what would happen to our friendship? I'd hate to lose him because I did something stupid! And could I really be friends with someone I feel like this about?"

"Cream!"

"Huh?"

"Sweetie, you're shouting." The look in his eyes was worried in a way I hadn't seen. It's like he was reading a ransom note. I'm sure if I was paying attention, I'd see his expression morph from polite curiosity to that concern, but I was so caught up in my own questions that…oh, that was embarrassing. I slunk down in my chair, trying my best not to look Vector in the eyes.

"Sorry," I whisper.

"It's alright, Cream," Vector replied. There was an attempted but shaky warmth to what he was saying. "I'm…wow." He leaned back in his own chair, and exhaled. "Wow. You weren't kidding, this is complicated." There was yet another pause as he furrowed his brow. "But…I can be pretty good with complicated stuff."

I look up a little bit. "Vector?"

"Look, this is a bit out of my wheelhouse, but I'm sure as spit going to try my best. I said I would help, didn't I?" He leaned back in. "For starters, I don't have enough info, here. Just…start by telling me about him. What's his name? What's he like?"

"...promise me you won't get mad, or try to kill him?"

"Heh, don't worry. My wispon's for crooks, not crushes."

I begin to smile a little bit. Guess he's not the 'shotgun collection' type of dad after all.

A/N: This is a vaguely AU fic that takes place 10-ish years after the games and such. I'm planning to pass back-and-forth between Cream and Tails in this fic. You'll see what's up with Cream's "language" soon, hopefully, it's very much on purpose.