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"You're spoiled to all hell." Dingo whispers to himself as he pours milk into a plastic cup, unable to stop smiling. He keeps an eye on Dook, making sure he doesn't get hurt walking around the living room. He sighs, nothing but love in his voice. "But I love you."
As if he could hear his father's muttering, Dook giggles and waves, like he hasn't seen him in a day. "Hi papa!"
"I gotcha y' milk." Dingo smiles back, resting the cup of milk in his paws. "But you gotta sit away from your toys, okay? We don't want them getting dirty."
Dook holds the star plushie in his paws a little tighter. "Can Stary stay?"
"How 'bout I hold him, okay?" Dook nods, holding it out to Dingo. Dingo gently holds the star, even reaching down to pat where he estimates its nose would be. "Boop."
"Boop!" Dook laughs. He takes the cup as steadily as he can, licking and licking until the milk gets too far down for him to continue without getting his nose stuck in the cup. He makes a disgruntled noise at that.
"Tip the cup a little, ay?" Dingo suggests. He can't help but awh at Dook's milk mustache. "There y' go."
Dook drinks quickly, though the cup isn't large to begin with, and clumsily puts it down. As Dingo picks it up to make sure the small droplets left don't fall onto the carpet, Dook makes grabby hands towards him. "Can I have Stary back?"
Dingo lifts Stary slowly, mimicking flying as he places it onto Dook's lap. "Captain, the first space shuttle has landed on the planet of Dooktopia."
Dook squeals, shaking his paws back and forth. "First landing!" He repeats, picking Stary up and almost falling onto his back.
"Careful." Dingo murmurs, scooting to sit behind his son in case he does end up falling. The carpet is soft, but he doesn't want to take any chances.
"Can you play with me, papa?" Dook asks, leaning back into Dingo's lap. "I got my bath toys!"
"Your bath toys?" Dingo asks, lifting Dook up by the waist and setting him into his lap properly, wrapping his arms around him. "I thought we agreed to keep those for bathtime only?"
"Sowwy." Dook hangs his head low. Dingo can only keep up the slightly stern voice before it melts and he presses a kiss to Dook's forehead.
"I could never stay mad at you. What do you want to play, darling?" Dingo hoists Dook back up and places him onto his spot on the carpet. "Y'like the octo fella?"
Dook grabs the toy in question, a yellow octopus that's clearly worn and much older than Dook is. "Mr. Squidsy."
Dingo chooses not to comment on the octopus vs squid thing, and instead taps his son on the nose with a smile. "Mr. Squidsy used to be mine when I was a pup meself."
Dook mouth opens and his eyes widen. "When was that?"
"A long time ago, for you anyways." Dingo laughs. He moves to be lying down on his stomach beside Dook, watching him grab another bath toy.
"He's Mr. Whale." Dook informs him, handing it to Dingo. "Youw my enemy!"
"I'm your enemy?" Dingo repeats, smile widening as Dook nods, as if it makes perfect sense.
"'Cause squids hate whales." Dook adds. Dingo raises an eyebrow, but doesn't deny it.
"Maybe they do." He concedes, ruffling the top of Dook's head. "So what am I meant to do."
"You twy to attack me, and I fight back!" Dook has the cutest expression that Dingo just can't say no to. "Like, bam!"
Dingo nods, still only halfway in the know. He bumps the octopus toy gently with the plastic whale-- the whale is clearly newer, and in Dingo's opinion, clearly cheaper. It's a gift from someone whose name he can't remember, and doubts is someone he talks to frequently but instead a baby shower gift.
"You gotta do it rougher." Dook pouts. "Like a weal attack, not a play one!"
"This is all play, isn't it?" Dingo mutters to himself, not unkindly. "Alright, darling."
When he knocks them into each other a second time, Dook laughs. "Like that! Now it's my turn."
"We're going by turns?" Dingo asks.
"We're wes-wespect…wespeckable sea creatures." Dook struggles through the word.
"Respectable?"
"Mhm." Dook nods. He picks up the toy and hits it down onto the whale, making a clacking noise. "I'm stwonger than you."
Dingo decides to also not comment on the unlikely hood of all of this, just nodding and playing along. "You really are."
Dook shrieks in excitement, clapping.
"I used to sing a song with me mates about an octopus. Or, squid." Dingo puts down the toy to just lie on the carpet. Dook climbs onto his chest, patting Dingo's nose.
"I wanna hear it!" Dook insists.
Dingo laughs. "I'm not sure I remember all of the lyrics anymore. It went…" he hums the tune, uncertain of the entire melody.
"Squid song, squid song," Dook sings, just almost in time with the melody.
"Close." He takes Dook's tiny paws in his own. "It was named Octopus's Garden. It was just a nice ole song, 'y know. Peaceful."
"I wanna be in a band like you someday, papa." Dook says. "I can dwum like you, 'n go bam bam ba bam bam boom!"
Dingo smiles widely, wrapping his arm around Dook. "You'd be a great drummer. Y'ever seen those guitarists that just sorta run everywhere?"
"Like Uncle Beachy." Dook adds, excitedly.
"Like Uncle Beachy, but they're a little quicker. You could be one of those, too." Dingo can only imagine the fun Beach will make of him if his son took after xem instead of him.
Dook shakes his head. "Youw my favorite." He lies down so he's lying on Dingo's chest completely. "I wanna be just like you."
Dingo can't help but sniffle a little, holding Dook tighter. "You're my favorite too, darling. The best little pup anyone could ask for."
Dook wraps his significantly shorter arms around Dingo with a little difficulty. "I love you papa."
"I love you too." Dingo yawns. "I'll always love you, no matter how old you get."
"Even when I'm a hundred years old?"
"Even when you're a hundred years old." Dingo repeats.