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It is a quiet summer evening in a suburban neighborhood. The Urie and Weekes families have just returned from an outdoor picnic, and are walking up the street leading to the Uries’ house. They each carry tote bags and large backpacks, walking slowly and chatting along the way.
At the very front is Knox Weekes, the younger of the Weekes siblings. Just behind him, side by side, are Sarah Urie and Breezy Weekes, in a cheerful conversation and laughing every now and then. Amelie Weekes walks behind her mother, listening and smiling. At seventeen years old, she is now the second tallest member of her family. A few steps behind them is Dallon Weekes, who watches the moms with a loving smile, but glances backwards every few seconds.
A good ten meters behind all of them is Brendon Urie. He has his six-month-old daughter, fast asleep, in a baby carrier in front of him. He is crouching beside his two-year-old son, who is having a bit of a tantrum, and just sits on the sidewalk, refusing to rise.
“...how about that, George, huh?” Brendon tries his best to sound calm.
“No.” George shakes his head so hard Brendon is a little afraid he would sprain his neck.
“But we gotta get Chloe home to go to sleep first.” Brendon takes George’s hand and tries to pull him up.
“No! I don’t wanna go to sleep!” George refuses to move.
“You don’t have to go to sleep. You can stay up with us. ”
“But I don’t wannu-”
“-Hey honey, you guys alright there? Need a hand?” Sarah stops and calls from a distance.
“-Nope. We’re fine. Don’t come near us. I got this.” Brendon replies and puts up a hand to stop Sarah. Dallon stops and watches as Brendon tries to lift the limp, reluctantly struggling toddler.
“You're sure?” Sarah laughs. Breezy giggles, too.
“Yep. I promised you I’d handle these two for at least an hour. Now let me do my job.” Brendon is laughing, too, but with a tone of exasperation. Sarah chuckles again and resumes walking.
“You ready to go, man?” Brendon crouches down again.
“But I don’t wanna go-” George is now sobbing and can barely form his sentences. But he still doesn’t move. Brendon takes a deep breath in and stands up. As he thinks of other ways to convince the child to cooperate, he notices that Dallon is approaching them.
“What seems to be his problem?” Dallon asks softly.
“I don’t know.” Brendon says flatly. “Probably still mad that I didn’t eat the grass he picked for me earlier.”
“Hmm, understandable.” Dallon comments with a smile. He crouches down beside George, too, and puts a hand around his shoulder,
“Hey, George, buddy, you wanna know something?” Dallon asks calmly but just loud enough for George to hear over his sobs.
George turns to face Dallon with interest and confusion. Dallon offers George something, but Brendon cannot see what it is, as they are facing away from him. George stops sobbing, accepts the gift, and tucks it away in his small backpack that he holds by hand. Dallon says something in an undertone and it makes George laugh.
George stands up and takes Dallon’s hand, light-hearted as if the previous ten minutes never happened.
Brendon watches as they start walking, and lets out a sigh. “You are just so good with kids" He shakes his head and remarks. "Honestly, I don’t know how you do it.”
“Well, I’m lucky. Sometimes it doesn’t work.” Dallon turns his head and says lightly.
“But what d’you say to him?” Brendon is now curious.
Dallon looks at George and raises an eyebrow. “Can I tell him?” he asks George.
“No.” George says without hesitation. Brendon is pretty sure he didn’t really understand the question.
“Alright then.” Dallon shrugs.
“No, seriously, what did you say?” Brendon persues, chuckling.
“It’s gonna be our little secret, right, George?” Dallon says with a mischievous smile.