A/N: Here is a fun little story that may or may not have more parts to it about the Winslow/Urkel clan in today's time. Hope you enjoy!
Carl enters the living room cautiously, looking all ways around him to make sure he's finally alone. The room, thankfully, is empty and he lets out a hefty breath. Finally, some peace and quiet. After three days of Steve and the kids, and everything in between. He can only take so much of it… He is not the young man he once was when he first dealt with all these shenanigans.
He sits eagerly on the couch to begin reading his book quietly, peacefully: some romance novel where the love interest is distant and harsh and the woman is timid and far too naive. A classic domestic violence charge in real life, likely ending in a restraining order from either or both parties. But pure entertainment in the context of fiction. Harriette got him into the romance genre early on in his retirement, after reading over her shoulder one too many times that she finally just gave him the books she was reading; a guilty pleasure the guys at the station would surely make fun of him for if they ever find out. Still, he hangs on to every word. But—
The kitchen door swings open. Aniya, his beautiful granddaughter, enters just as Sherry, the book's protagonist, leans in for a kiss. Her love interest pushes her away, reluctantly. He's on the edge of his seat as she moves closer to him. He melts at her touch. "Grandpa?" And he resists the urge to groan. Right at the good part too! "What's the number for the Chicago Fire Department?"
Carl lifts his eyes from his book to look at her, now suddenly concerned. "Why? What happened?"
Laura enters right after her daughter. "Nothing," she says. Her demeanor is calm, possibly even annoyed. "Steve just glued himself to the wall."
He rolls his eyes, then blinks. "Again?"
"Yeah, Ducky missed it the first time," explains Laura tiredly, "so he mixed super glue in with the lotion. Steve did the rest himself. Tripped coming down the stairs. Mom's in there right now trying to yank him free with the spatula."
"Grandma's more worried about dad ruining the wallpaper in there again."
Carl tenses, suddenly realizing he can't lift his fingers up from the pages of his book. He used Steve's lotion just a few minutes ago. It did feel a little more slimy than usual. He tries to subtly yank his hands free without his daughter or granddaughter catching on. "Um, super glue, you say?"
"That boy is something else," Laura says, shaking her head and moving to pick up her phone off the coffee table.
Eddy descends the steps behind him, distracted by his phone in his hands. Laura moves off to the side to take the call. "Hey, I'm heading out to pick up Zora from ballet practice," he says casually. But a siren sounding somewhere off in the distance halts him at the front door. He turns to them. "Steve glue himself to the wall again?"
"Yeah," Laura says casually without glancing up just as Carl gives a bitter nod. He tries to pull the pages from his hands to no avail.
"And you glued yourself to that book, didn't you?"
Again, Carl nods bitterly. His son laughs at his misery. "The guys at the station'll love this," he says, snapping a photo with his phone. He waves as leaves. "Hey, hey—looks like you're in a little bit of sticky situation here, dad," he jabs, laughing with his niece. "Hey, keep this up and you'll be on a first name basis with the fire department again."
He breaks free using the force created by his anger. The pages rip and he stands with the paper still glued to his hands. Eddy takes this as his cue to leave. He runs out quickly. Carl contemplates chasing after him, but is stopped by his daughter.
"I'm sorry about all this, dad," says Laura, comforting her grouchy old man. "There's always something happening when we visit."
The anger he feels vanishes in an instant upon seeing the sparkle in her eyes, the tiredness in her demeanor. "I love you guys. And I love when you come and visit—don't get that wrong. But you've been away for so long, I guess I'm no longer used to… well, Steve."
"And for us, it's just another Tuesday," says Laura nonchalantly.
And suddenly it hits her daughter. "Oh my God! I just realized the fire department is coming twice in one day." Aniya cringes at the thought. "It's bad enough we have to deal with this at home…" She looks and acts like her mother, thankfully. But she's more Urkel than he thinks her teenage angsty self cares to admit, especially in the brains department. She moves to hide herself upstairs. "I can't let them know I'm part of this family. I just can't!"
"C'mon, dad, I think I remember the firefighter saying nail polish remover helps get the glue off easier," Laura says, easily ignoring her daughter's comments. She leads him into the kitchen, showing off her fresh manicure. "Lucky for you, I just did my nails."
They enter the kitchen where Steve lays stuck upside down on the wall nearest to the steps, wearing nothing but his bright red underwear. Harriette is beside him trying to scrape him off the wallpaper with the spatula. Steve winces as Ducky records the entire thing on some phone. Laura guides him to the table where her nail supplies lay scattered about. She picks up the nail polish remover as he moves toward the chaos.
"Ducky—put down that phone and help me pull," Harriette commands. The spatula breaks. She tries again with a roast fork and Steve cries out in pain.
"I can't, grandma," he says, panning the phone over to her, zooming in on the fork digging into his father's skin. "We're live right now!"
"Live? Whattya mean live?" she asks, pushing the camera out of her face. Ducky moves the phone back onto his father.
"About five hundred people are watching me suffer right now," explains Steve. "Right in the comfort of their own homes. Or at work. Or, in one rare case, their prison cell." He looks at the camera and attempts to wave with his glued hand. "Shout out to user Inmate_ADX48—I know you're watching." He hesitates. "Uh, please stop calling my house."
"Really?" Harriette stops to fix her hair. And she smiles as Ducky starts filming her again. "Five hundred people? Just here to watch you fumble around a little?"
"Oh yeah, Steve's got sort of a cult following on tiktok," explains Laura. She uncaps the nail polish remover and begins working on freeing Carl's hands. "Turns out people like watching him be… well, Steve."
"Dad even went viral for making up a dance," says Ducky. Like most young boys his age, he idolizes his dad, still blinded by all his faults. Carl's even heard the kid once use the word "cool" to describe Steve—he shivers at the thought but dreads the day when he discovers the truth.
"That is until Charli D'Amellio tried to steal our spotlight," Steve says bitterly, attempting to shake his head. "But no one can dance the Urkel like us Urkels. Right, kiddo?"
"Right, dad!" he answers.
"It started out as a way for the two to bond," says Laura. She gets one hand free. "We use the money he makes on there to pay for all the things he breaks."
"So, you're finally getting paid to wreak havoc," says Carl, baffled, impressed. He winces as his daughter pulls at his skin to get some of the paper off.
"Makes you wish there was something like this in our time, huh, big guy?"
Harriette is scraping his sides with the fork, moving all around his body. It almost looks he's getting loose. The firemen are drawing near, their siren getting louder.
"Ducky, turn the live off and go get ready for bed," Laura demands without looking up from her work.
"Just a couple more minutes, mom. I want to see if grandma can break dad free before the firemen get here."
"Ducky," she warns.
He groans, but obeys. Steve attempts to wave goodbye to his audience before Ducky signs off. And he stomps upstairs without another word. The kid is more caricature than person sometimes, like most Urkels he knows. Aniya is much more grounded comparatively. But they're both two great kids, and that's all that matters in the end.
"Hey—I think I got him loose," Harriette says after a few good tugs with the fork. The kitchen door swings open and the firemen rush inside right as Steve falls head first onto the floor. Laura, unfazed, gets the last of the paper off Carl's hand.
Steve pops his head up with crossed eyes and crooked glasses, no doubt seeing stars with that harsh landing. Harriet helps him to his feet, then holds him steady when he starts to wobble. "I just remembered something very important…"
"What's that, Steve?" asks Harriette, concerned.
He adjusts his underwear, pulling them high up his stomach. "The… Alamo," he says seriously before falling again, landing on the floor with a hard thud.
This time Laura reacts, moving to help him. The firemen follow suit. Carl picks at the glue still on his hands. And Ducky returns soon after now in his pajamas, whining about missing all the fun. Thank God they'll be gone in a few days and everything will go back to normal. The house will finally be silent again—that is until Christmas comes around and they rinse and repeat everything.
He observes Laura cradle Steve. Harriette's holding Ducky back as the fireman begins checking Steve for a concussion. Carl moves to wash his hands, in attempt to get the gunk off. It almost makes him laugh, though: the familiarity, the nostalgia of it all. Something twists inside him. Too bad they'll be gone in a few days.
A/N: Hope you liked it! thanks so much for reading.