Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Molly McGee could describe her time in the small, midwestern town of Brighton in many words. But dull? That wasn’t one of them. 

She’d seen, felt and experienced so much since her family moved here. Making friends with a ghost, battling several other ghosts, becoming a ghost, and best of all, getting her first girlfriend. One clever, creative, compassionate Libby Stein-Torres. Not too surprisingly, with the help of a ghost.

Things seemed to only get crazier and crazier since that girl entered her life, in the best of ways. Having moved around as much as she did throughout her childhood, Molly never quite had the opportunity to develop feelings for those she met. By the time she’d begin to get to know her new friends, her family would have to pack their bags and start life anew someplace else. But as she finally settled down in her forever-home, starting life anew and continuing to live it, she couldn’t help but fall for her. With Libby by her side, she felt a strength and security she never knew before. Libby wasn’t just her girlfriend, she was her rock. Her constant. Her forever-home. If there were clouds above the ninth, she’d tell you that dating Libby felt like leagues above them.

They’d been through so much together. Not only did they help each other through their own demons, growing past so many old fears and insecurities, but they helped each other through more than a few physical scraps as well. When Molly first introduced Libby to Scratch, she didn’t exactly expect them to bond over saving her from a turnip shredder. Nor did she expect to be adding aliens to her fighting roster when a certain history teacher entered their lives the other year. But that’s just how it was in Brighton. Danger was everywhere, despite appearances. 

Having faced so much throughout the years, one would hardly expect someone with her experience to be afraid of much. 

But there were a few things. Just a few. 

The Stein-Torres household was quiet, occupying only three on a lazy Sunday afternoon. One certain upstart lawyer, having made a name for himself at city council, typing away at some report on job growth and manufactures as he manned the front desk at the family bookstore. He’d promised his sister to keep a close eye on the other two occupants, as she decided to spend the weekend over at a certain baker’s place. 

Those other two in question, however, were far from his sight. 

Lips connected, parted and crashed as two teens were sprawled on the bed. Libby had her girlfriend pinned, running a hand up-and-down the small of Molly’s waist as they indulged in each other. Molly, meanwhile, had both her hands in Libby’s dark hair, lazily circling her thumbs behind her girlfriend’s ears. Once upon a time, Libby would have been apologizing profusely for pinning Molly as they made out. But now, knowing how good it made her girlfriend feel, how safe and secure Molly felt in Libby’s embrace, she couldn’t help but get into it herself.

Libby’s hands slowly went towards Molly’s wrists as the girls continued. Molly, knowing where this dance was headed, didn’t protest. She let her hands fall from Libby’s ears, her girlfriend gently pushing her arms all the way onto the bed, pinning her completely. 

“You’re so bad , Libby…” Molly whispered as their lips parted, an audible smile in her words.

“You always did bring out a different side of me, Molly…” Libby retorted playfully, before leaning in and capturing Molly’s lips in her own once again. 

They reveled in each other for some time, sharing kiss after kiss after kiss as Libby soon let go of Molly’s arms, allowing the two lovers to run their hands along each other's bodies as they did before. 

Libby parted her lips from Molly’s again, moving to gaze at her girlfriend's beautiful face. Those hopeful, hazel-brown eyes, accompanied by a shining smile that never failed to make Libby do the same.

Molly opened her eyes to see an equally beautiful face hovering over her. Soft, oak-brown eyes accompanying a content, compassionate smile that never failed to make Molly giddy with joy. 

That smile quickly faded, Libby’s tan face going pale, as if she’d seen a ghost.

Well, something close to that anyways.

“Libby?” Molly asked in a daze, “What’s wrong?”

Libby’s face hardened, eyes narrowing, her hand hovering near Molly’s head as if to grab something off it.

“Molly,” Libby said firmly, “Don’t. Move. A muscle.”

“Huh?” Molly could barely process what was happening, but before she could say anything else, Libby’s hand swiped above her eyes with a confident “Yoink!”, picking something off her forehead. 

Before she could even fully process that, Libby hopped off the bed and scurried towards her window. 

She quickly unlocked the window’s lift, pulling the sill upwards and blowing into her hand as she popped her head out. 

Molly stared, taking in the scene and slowly processing what was happening. What did she just… oh no.

Libby dusted her hands, congratulating herself on a job well done as she closed the window and made her way back to Molly. “Okay, crisis averted. Now, where were we…”

She trailed as she saw Molly’s face. Pale, eyes wide, it was clear she was beginning to catch on. 

“Libby?” she breathed, voice shaking, “What did you just throw out the window?”

“Oh, that?” Libby stiffened, scratching the back of her head, trying her damndest to think of something to say, “No worries hon, that was just a… uh…”

“Let me see your hair.” she said firmly.

“Let me see my wha-?”

“LET ME SEE YOUR HAIR!” she lunged from the bed towards Libby, pinning her on the ground in a wild turnabout. 

The minutes that passed felt like hours as Libby sat on the foot of her bed. Molly knelt behind her, intently running her hands through and around Libby’s oak-brown hair. 

“Come on you little jerks, I know you’re in there somewhere…” 

Libby checked her watch as her girlfriend continued to mutter angrily. Five minutes, more or less, since she picked that spider. She heaved out a sigh, understanding that she had no choice but to let this play out. 

“Infiltrating my girlfriend’s house and laying your horror-eggs in her perfect hair, I’ll show you what-for!” Molly grumbled.

Libby let out a snicker. “Ex-ter-min-ate, ex-ter-min-ate!” she teased, echoing one of the many monsters that had invaded Brighton over the past few years since they met.

“You are so not funny.” Molly deadpanned, continuing to fidget and fumble for foes in Libby’s long locks. 

Libby let herself slump backward, head falling into Molly’s lap, now staring up at her. “Molly, you do realize that the spider could’ve easily been hiding in your hair, right?” she asked with a smirk.

Molly blinked. Her narrow, annoyed eyes slowly widened with fear. “Oh no. You’re right!” she hurriedly spun around, undoing her ponytail, still kneeling, but now facing her back to Libby. “Come on, I checked your hair, you check mine!!!”

Libby giggled as she got up, crossing her arms in jest. “And then we can go back to making out, right?”

“Yes fine, whatever you want, just PLEASE check my hair!” 

Libby did as instructed. Running her hands through Molly’s reddish-brown locks, she felt her girlfriend shake and shiver a little at her touch. Libby wondered why, of all things, after so many years of fantastical adventures, it was something as mundane as spiders that still got the better of her bravery. 

And boy was she brave. Molly had put her life on the line more times than Libby could count. Not that Libby had never done the same, but if there was ever any danger that threatened their hometown, other-worldly or not, Molly would always be the first to meet it. To assess the situation, form some kind of plan, and face the danger head-on. 

But she supposed that was the thing about bravery. It didn’t quite apply to everything. Despite the myriad of times Libby had to face off against her own demons, inside and out, there were more than a few fears she’d retained since childhood. Her fear of public speaking, for example, never quite faded despite the multitude of times she had to face it. Whether it be the candle-lighting at her bat mitzvah or reading a short story as Brighton’s nominee for the Midwest Young Writers Convention. 

But whenever she had to face those fears, it was always with Molly at her side. Her soothing voice, loving eyes and shining smile always made her feel like she could face any adversity. 

Libby felt her girlfriend’s body continue to shiver and quake in fear as she continued. Her heart sank, a wave of guilt crashing over her as she realized her teasing probably contributed to Molly’s state of mind. Molly would never do such a thing to Libby if she was having a panic attack. 

“Hey,” Libby said, wrapping her arms around her dearest and nuzzling gently into her shoulder. “Your hair’s fine. I’m sorry for making fun. You always helped me face my fears without teasing me. I should be able to do the same.” 

Molly’s tense, shaky body softened in Libby’s arms, leaning into her girlfriend’s embrace as she felt a serene calm flow through her. “It’s okay,” Molly sighed. “Honestly, you’d think with all we’ve faced, I’d be over something so stupid.” she proceeded to chuckle. “I mean, what’s a tiny little spider compared to the Chairman of the Ghost World?” 

“Well, depending on which chairman we’re talking about, I’d say spiders are WAY more threatening.” 

The girls shared a snicker before breaking out into full laughter, nuzzling into each other and holding each other close. 

Libby gave her love a quick kiss atop her head before continuing. “Besides, I think everyone has a few fears they’ll never be able to let go of, no matter how hard they try. I still can’t stand public speaking, for one thing.”

“Really?” Molly asked. “But you do it so well! You rocked it at the slam poetry session the other day, plus that beautiful reading you did at the last Midwest Young Writers convention.” She was disheartened that her girlfriend could feel this way, even all this time. If there was something Molly couldn’t feel prouder of, it was how far Libby had come since they met in seventh grade. Growing from a meek, shy bookworm into one of the strongest, bravest people she’d ever met. She’d been through so much, yet through it all gained not only a stronger sense of confidence, but also a compassion and empathy for others that rivaled nobody else Molly knew. Seeing Libby perform as confidently as she seemed on stage, as well as her heartbeat-impulse to help those she thought were suffering, always sent a pleasant warmth through Molly’s heart. 

Libby shrugged. “Still scares me, even if I do it well, which I’m not so sure I do.” She briefly paused. “I’m not like Joey. I can’t joke around and tell a fatherly anecdote like some dollar-store Ronald Reagan.” 

There was a hint of jealous ire in her voice as she finished her thought. Over the years, Libby had developed a habit of comparing herself to her uncle, Brighton’s rising star in local government. She loved Joey, and was more than thankful for his presence in her life since he moved back to Brighton. With him, as well as Molly, she felt a confidence and self-assuredness she never thought she could have when she was young. But she’d be lying if she said she never felt envious of her uncle’s natural ability for eloquence and rapport. She wanted to be just like him, but always felt she could never quite measure up. 

Molly sensed this inadequacy welling up in her girlfriend, the softness of Libby’s embrace beginning to stiffen into hardened resentment. She therefore moved to stroke her love’s cheek. “Hey, I’ll take Robert Kennedy-eloquence over Reagan’s garbage-gab any day.” she quipped. 

Libby immediately loosened up at her girlfriend’s touch, and let out a chuckle. “No way. Me? RFK levels?”

“Sure!” she chirped. “You have this… conviction in your voice whenever you narrate your stories. Joey’s easy-going, which works fine if you’re playing politician, but you know how to elicit all kinds of emotions. Fear, triumph, grief, love… you’re incredible at what you do. At everything you do.” 

Libby giggled, already feeling her inadequacy melt from her body like ice in a hot furnace. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mol.” She gave her girlfriend a tight squeeze, Molly nuzzling into her embrace. 

“And that’s kinda my point, you know?” Libby continued as they parted. “I wouldn’t be able to have any of that if I never met you. Even now, whenever I feel tense in front of a crowd, I just see your face or remember you’re there and the fear just kinda… takes a backseat.” 

Molly smiled proudly hearing that. “I’m so glad I could be a part of that.” She said, moving to stroke her love’s cheek once again. “I’m always here for you Libby, and I always will be.”

“And I’ll always be here for you. You’re the bravest person I know. I’ll be there to keep you brave, just like you do for me. Always.” 

The girls gazed at each other as they held one another, lost in each other’s eyes. Neither could look more beautiful to the other than in that moment. They really wouldn’t know where they’d be without the other in their lives. They certainly didn’t want to find out anytime soon. Whatever dangers they faced, they’d face them together, or not at all. It’s how they faced those fears since they met. They weren’t stopping now. “Winning formula” put it mildly. 

They leaned in towards each other, the heat between their faces growing warmer as their lips nearly connected, until a knock came at the door. “Playtime’s over kids, time to get decent. Mom’s on her way.”

In a split second, Libby’s expression went from calm and contented to flustered and fiery. “ Ugh, we weren’t doing anything, Joey!” she called to her uncle behind the door. 

“Woah, I believe you kiddo! Just make sure your Mom does too.” Joey replied, an audible amused smile in his words.

“Yeah, yeah.” Libby groaned, eliciting a giggle from Molly. 

“Guess we’ll have to continue where we left off later. Spiders notwithstanding~” she said with a kiss to Libby’s cheek, taking her hand and leading her out of the door.

Libby’s annoyed scowl softened and curled into a wide smile, giggling as the girls made their way downstairs. “I’ll hold you to it, scaredy cat.”

Chapter Text

It was the high-pitched blare of Libby’s alarm that woke her from her slumber. Her ears rang as her eyes slowly opened to the clamor, shaken by a dream she couldn’t remember, and feeling more than a bit confused as she slowly moved to silence the pestering thing. One would think of this instance as a constant in her morning routine, but one would be quite mistaken. Since her uncle Joey had moved to Brighton from New York last year, she had gotten used to waking up in a very, very different way. 

Her morning routine would usually begin like this. Between 6 and 7am, Libby would wake every morning to the sound of a shower starting near her room. That didn’t bother her on its own. She liked to fall asleep to the sound of rain, and in fact had the white noise play on her phone every night at bedtime. A shower wasn’t all that different. Such a sound was something she could easily snooze to without a problem. 

What she couldn’t fall back asleep to was the blaring music that would follow the shower’s gentle pitter-patter. Whether it be classic rock, rap, R&B, heavy metal, even j-pop or j-rock, it was always obnoxiously loud. One instance in particular stuck when she’d been shaken awake by a metallic symphony of guitar shredding and drum pounding, accompanied by her uncle wailing “FRIEZA, FRIEZA, FRIEZA, FRIEZA !” followed by guttural screeching of Japanese she didn’t understand. Ensued by a well-deserved verbal shake-down by her mother over breakfast, it was a memory she’d recall with half-annoyance and half-amusement. 

But moments like that were routine at this point. A scheduled wake-up via her alarm clock? That was almost off-putting. 

Still, she went about her morning like usual, for the moment, getting dressed before making her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Hygiene and punctuality always came before investigating. That was the Bloodhound Way,  as Joey told her whenever they played detective years ago. 

Slipping on her usual turtleneck, khaki jeans and combat boots, she opened the door and heard a faint echo from upstairs. From the attic, her uncle’s room, where she could hear a familiar, gentle baritone from behind the door. 

So he IS here… Libby thought to herself. What’s he singing this time? 

She quietly clambered up the attic steps, finally able to make out the melody of the song. As she listened further, she realized the familiarity of the lyrics. Hold on, is that…

She’maaaaa, Yirsaeeeeeeel…

Adonaaaaaaaiii Eloheinu…

Adonaaaaaaiii Echad… 

Tip-toeing nearer to the attic door, she was finally able to get a glimpse of her uncle as he sang. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was that her Torah portion from her bat mitzvah? But why would her uncle Joey of all people be singing that? 

She inched closer toward the doorway, finally catching a glimpse of her uncle. He was facing his attic window, away from Libby as she peeked further. He was dressed in the clothes he probably woke up in, a green t-shirt and baggy gray sweatpants, but with a beautiful blue-and-white shawl draped over his head and shoulders. 

Ve’ahavta et Adonai elohecha,

Ve’hol levabecha uve’chol naf’she’cha,

uve’chol meodecha…

Libby stood there for some time, in awe and disbelief. That was her Torah portion! How was it that Joey, skeptic that he was, all of the sudden knew Hebrew? And her own Torah portion no less? 

She continued to observe, still absorbing the fact that this was all happening. It was just so out of character for him. Joey always spurned religion and spirituality from what she remembered, so to see him reciting Hebrew prayers was surreal to say the least. She didn’t notice the transition from Hebrew to English, before being snapped out of her trance of disbelief by the sound of her name.

“Please keep Libby safe. Let her grow and prosper into the incredible woman I know she can be. I was so arrogant in New York, so focused on my future that I pushed everyone in my present away from me.” She could hear his voice beginning to break. “I won’t let it happen again. I’m gonna protect them both now. I’m gonna share everything with them. Their joys, their sorrows, all of it. They mean so much to me. As long as I’m still breathing, I-” 

He was cut off by the feel of someone throwing themselves at his back, wrapping their arms tightly around his waist. 

“Woah, what the-“

“I’ll always be there to protect you too, ya big lug.” Libby said, nuzzling into her uncle’s back. “Goes both ways. The three of us all keep each other safe here. Don’t forget that.” 

Her uncle let out a breathy chuckle, setting his hands on Libby’s, arms still wrapped around his waist. “I’m guessing you heard all of that?” he asked, a pink blush emanating across his cheeks.

“Just about.” Libby giggled, before unwrapping her arms from her uncle and circling around him towards the bed he faced. Finally seeing her uncle’s face smiling down at her, she noticed the myriad of outlandish gear he adorned beside the blue-and-white shawl. Atop his head sat some… black cube, and around his left arm were wrapped black leather strips. Strewn over the bed were a set of felt cases with Hebrew inscriptions, accompanied by his name, presumably to hold what he was wearing when not in use. “What is all this?” she asked.

Her uncle tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never seen this before?”

“No… no I haven’t. Should I have?” 

Joey considered that. He and Leah grew up in an Orthodox household, attending services at a Chabad Lubavitch, where men and women sat separately, and solemn rabbis wore black suits, long beards and furrowed brows. Guess it’s different with how Katz runs things , he thought, the far more affable, clean-shaven clergyman of the “Reform” denomination, which let families sit together and brought prayers to life with the musical instruments Joey so loved to play.  

“Well- uh, this is tefillin .” he said, eyes lowering to the straps along his arm. “This is what I put on when I did my bar mitzvah. Surprised your Mom had mine in the basement.” he chuckled, looking back at Libby. “You’ve really never seen this before? Not even at services?”

“Nope.” Libby shook her head. “What’s it for?”

Huh. Katz really does run things differently then . “Well, uh,” Joey began, scratching his head, still in slight disbelief that she’d really never heard of these, “You use these to pray. Your grandpa used to pray with them every morning when I was a kid.” His lips curled into smile at an oncoming memory. “He’d always wake me up for school before putting them on, and I’d always snooze to his singing the she’ma before my Mom would yell at me to wake up again.” he said with a hearty chuckle. 

“The she’ma ?” Libby echoed, head tilted. “You mean my Torah portion?”

He paused for a moment, the all-too-familiar guilt for having missed that special day beginning to loom over him. Having missed so much over the past few years. The loneliness that came from being a social outcast, the pain she felt not having a father to guide her like other kids. Libby’s real father was long gone, and Joey always felt ashamed for not filling that role when she needed it the most. Shaking himself from that brief bout of pain, he finally answered.

“Well if you wanna get technical, then yeah." he chuckled nervously. “But it’s part of every Torah portion.” 

As if that’s an excuse, he thought to himself in a scathing hiss.

Stop it. He hissed back internally. That seemed to quiet things down for a moment, snapping him back to reality. 

“It’s, uh, an oath to Jacob by his sons as they said goodbye to him on his deathbed.” he explained. “A promise to stay faithful to God and his ways, and by extension, stay faithful to their father’s memory.” 

“Huh.” Was all Libby could manage, still scanning the odd articles her uncle adorned. “So why not just pray the normal way? Why put on all this stuff?”

Joey smiled proudly at her question. Moments like these were ones which he lived for since moving to Brighton. Moments where he can impart something meaningful onto his niece, like knowledge or a new skill. It seemed to make him feel better during moments of regret, if only briefly. “Well, it’s sort of like a tool to augment your prayers. You see, you’ve got this piece here, which connects to the heart.” He stretched out his left arm, pointing to another black cube connected to the strips, which was pressed against the side of his chest. “Then you’ve got this piece up here, which points at the heavens.” he said, tapping the cube atop his head. “They’re supposed to connect your soul to God. Kind of like-”

“Like a radio antenna.” Libby gasped, remembering her use of walkie-talkies one recent adventure at school, heisting a bottle of soda to awaken a certain phantom friend’s memories. “And the Hebrew prayers are like… turning on the right channel, right?”

“Exactly! Right on the money, pal.” Joey laughed, his smile persisting as he gave her shoulder a playful jab. 

“Cool! But…” Libby trailed, beginning to address the elephant in the room. “Since when did you start praying like this? I thought you always said you didn’t believe in God.”

Joey’s face scrunched as he shuddered a bit. He really was quite pretentious in his younger years. In college, he made it a point to befriend as many “intellectuals” as he could. Those who railed against anything they deemed part of the “establishment”, including religion. He was still proud of his Judaism in those years, the heritage which embodied the value of perseverance and persistence. But he spurned for some time the more spiritual aspects of that heritage. Even in law school, he’d scoff at what rituals he thought “archaic” or “impractical”. So too would he stop going to Shabbat services, celebrate less and less of the High Holidays, among other things. 

“I felt that way for a while, yeah.” Joey answered, eyes at his feet, as if making a guilty confession. “Back in the day it was ‘cool’ not to believe, I guess. But… you remember when your grandpa passed?”

Libby’s eyes lowered as she quietly nodded. A jolly but frail old man, even when she was a child, it wasn’t shocking to hear of her grandfather’s passing a year or so before her bat mitzvah. Still, she remembered the deep depression her mother endured after hearing the news. “Yeah. Mom was pretty broken up about it. Not as bad as after Dad died, but still.”

Joey grit his teeth behind tightened lips as his frown persisted. Another screw-up…  he thought before shaking himself once more from that regret. 

He took a deep breath, then continued. “It was pretty bad for me, too. I couldn’t talk to anyone about it either, busy as I was. Not even a week to mourn…” he said as he grit his teeth even harder, the unfairness most wage-earners dealt with when they lost loved ones crossing his mind. 

Again, shaking himself from those intrusive thoughts, he spoke further. “Anyway, I kept remembering how he used to put these on every morning. I couldn’t find my tefillin after he died, but I started going to synagogue on Fridays and praying that way. Started eating kosher again too, the whole sha-bang. Made me feel closer to him.” 

A new wave of shame overtook him. “I stopped doing it after law school got busier, but… since your Mom found my tefillin the other day, I decided to take it up. Build back that old connection to Pop.” He smiled again, turning to his niece. “Now that I’ve got you guys, I can tell your gramps in the clouds how great things are, now that we’re all together.” he said, giving Libby’s hair a ruffle. 

Libby giggled. “No denying that.” she said, before looking over a stack of papers sitting in front of him. Presumably the prayers he was reciting. “How much of that do you have left?” she asked, pointing at the pile. 

Joey eyes drifted to where she was pointing. “Oh, the blessings?” he asked. “I’m about done.” his neutral expression curled back into a grin as he turned back to his niece. “You wanna give it a try?” 

“Oh-! Uh…” she began to tense up, scratching nervously at the back of her head, “Well, I don’t know if I could. I don’t really remember much of my Hebrew-“

“Libby, I don’t either.” he held up the stack, revealing more familiar lettering on its pages. “ Baruch HaShem for transliterations.” he quipped. “Lemme take these off, and I’ll show you what to do.”

“Cool.” Libby replied. 

As he began to undo his straps, Joey reflected once again on how much he missed in Libby’s life. He still had the tendency to lose himself in that regret, even after all this time. Yet for once, it wasn’t in a sorrowful light that he looked back on those memories. As he finished helping the girl into that ancient regalia, shawl draped elegantly over her head and straps wrapped neatly around her arm, he began to reflect on the ways in which he could make up for all he missed. He thought about the bat mitzvah he so desperately wanted to attend. In a way, this wasn’t so different. They’d be reciting some of the same blessings, after all. Maybe it was providence that his tefillin ended up here in Brighton. Perhaps it was a sign. A sign that he made the right choice by coming here, now able to share moments like these, and finally heal the pain of the past. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was here now, for however long she needed him to be, to make up for lost time.

“So you start right here.” he pointed at the stack of papers sitting on the bed. Libby scanned the page and began to sing, as if she were back at synagogue, reciting her portion of the Torah that long year ago. 

She’maaaaa, Yisraeeeeeeel…

Chapter Text

The mid-morning sun shone brightly through the windows of the house’s silent kitchen. The day outside was nearly perfect, complete with clear skies, a warm sun, and trilling birds singing the weather’s praises as they flew through the backyard’s tall trees. 

Unfortunately, Molly Stein-Torres, one of the household’s two matrons, was not able to sing any praises, nor bask in any glorious sunshine. Despite it being the weekend, today was, unfortunately, a work day. Being a guidance counselor was never easy, and neither was having the social conscience that earned her a newer, more public position at Brighton Middle School. When Molly and Libby first began their careers in the Iowa state school system, “grueling” was a generous descriptor. Pay was meager, and when they had their children, the idea of maternity leave was laughable to their superiors. Luckily, they weren’t alone, receiving plenty of help from friends and relatives in the raising and care for their children. 

So too, to their surprise, did they receive plenty of help from their co-workers, dissatisfied with their circumstances as Molly and Libby were with theirs. Over the recent months, there had been talk across the county of petitioning the State’s Labor Relations Board for the formation of a union. Though enough signatures were gathered to begin a Board-supervised election, there was still work to be done regarding the insurance of votes, as well as particular benefits for when the union was eventually recognized. While Libby was out meeting with fellow teachers from other towns as part of the organizing committee, Molly was going through reports on conditions for other unionized teachers in her state, looking over what benefits they received and writing a mock-contract for a certain lawyer (now State Assemblyman) she knew to go over and revise. She had a good amount of research to do, which meant today, she wasn’t to be disturbed.

Molly didn’t care much for that fact. She stood alone in the kitchen, preparing a meal for herself to take into her and Libby’s office, where she would presumably stay the whole day. She looked around the room, stopping to stare out the windows on her left toward the backyard outside. She inhaled and she heaved out a sigh, knowing she had to miss out on such a nice day with her little ones, wondering what sorts of antics they were up to that she had the misfortune of missing…

Wait, where even were her kids? She couldn’t spot them anywhere outside.

“Momma!” 

A unison cry from behind made her jump. She looked around, finding two small blurs zoom into the kitchen before hopping onto the counter’s stools. Her and Libby’s sweet little girls, Joylyn and Hopelyn, looked up at her giddily. Both named to honor the memory of their wonderful middle-school history teacher, Evelyn Smythe, who had taken them on so many wondrous adventures in their youth. But such use of their names was only reserved for serious occasions. Joy and Hope were their usual designations, reminders of the things she and Libby valued more than anything in this world. 

Looking into her babies’ faces, those sweet, excitable smiles that never failed to warm Molly’s heart with the emotions they were named for, she felt the anxieties of work fade from her mind in a matter of milliseconds. “What’s up, girls?” she asked, smiling. 

“We’re playing Robin Hood! We need someone to play the Sheriff of Nottingham!” The older Joy chirped. A girl of five, she was always the one to run up and request one of her parents to join in on a game, with her three-year-old sister following close behind.

Molly’s heart sank at the request, her smile deflating slightly. Under normal circumstances, she’d be more than happy to oblige such a request for her little ones. On the days she wasn’t at work, her “job”  was playing pretend, building pillow-forts with her girls, taking them on adventures from the far reaches of space to lands of fantastical magic. 

“No time to play today, loves. Momma’s got a lot of work to do.” she said sadly. 

“Aw, what?” Little Joy gasped. “But it’s the weekend!” the girl pouted. 

“Aren’t weekends when we’re supposed to play?” her younger daughter asked, confused.  

Molly could have burst into tears looking into her Hope’s distraught eyes. Young as they were, her daughters were still in the process of fully understanding the ways in which life circumstances were subject to change. They’d been used to the routine of weekend play all their lives, whether it be story-time and legos with their Mom, or the more physical roughhousing they indulged in with their Momma. 

“I know girls, I know.” she said softly, setting her hands on their shoulders across the counter. “We can play plenty tomorrow, though. Remember when we said last night at dinnertime that Mom and I were gonna be busy today?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Joy said, eyes drifting down at the floor alongside her sister, the disappointment in both their eyes clear as the day outside. The girl exchanged a quick look with her little sister, reflecting not just disappointment, but something deeper. Concern, maybe? Molly couldn’t tell.

“Is Saturday gonna be a work day every weekend now?” Hope asked as she and her sister parted eyes to look back at their mother, concern now clear on both their faces.  

Molly felt a jolt of guilt pierce through her chest. She really had a hard time not tearing up now. It was bad enough that her and Libby’s work left them little energy to spend time with their children after school. Most weekdays, the two wives would spend their after-school hours watching their girls play, not often joining in themselves. Although they always made sure to take the girls out to exercise after school, energy for play was mostly saved for the weekend. Time at the park was limited to an hour or two, while weekend play was meant to last the whole day. Part of her always felt sorrow for this fact, which is partially what led her to organize other teachers in the first place.  

And yet it was the very same effort to organize that gave them even more time apart. “Oh sweetie, of course not!” Molly assured her youngest, cupping the girl’s cheek and trying her damndest to think of what to say next. She and Libby were always unsure of whether they could properly explain their situations. The dynamic between labor, capital and government that complicated the public education system.

But she didn’t have much choice, now. She briefly pondered how she could explain their dilemma in a way her little ones could understand…

A lightbulb flashed above her head. “Listen girls, how about you meet me in the office and I’ll explain everything. Bring the lego box, yeah?”

The girls’ frowns curled quickly into smiles as they gasped and turned their heads towards each other. “Okay, Momma!” They said in unison as they turned their gaze back to her, before jumping off the stools and scurrying off to the playroom.

“Come on, Hopey, lift with your legs!” Joy chided her sister as they lifted and hobbled the giant box between them.

“I’m trying, it’s heavy!” Hope lamented, huffing and puffing as she waddled to her big sister’s pull on the box. About three times their size, they never had to haul it all the way to their mothers’ office before. What they thought a task comparable to putting the box back in the cubby of their playroom was now understood as veritably Herculean. 

“Need some help, girls?” a voice called out from down the hall. Their mother, leaning on the doorway to her office, with an amused smile on her face.

“Nah, we’re good!” Joy called out.

“Yes, we’re bad!” Hope followed, eliciting an annoyed groan from her sister. 

Molly chuckled quietly, shaking her head. “No worries Hope, I gotcha.” she strode toward her youngest daughter, kneeling behind her and putting her hands under Hope’s to help her lift the monstrosity. “Better?”

Hopey smiled confidently up at her Momma. “Yeah, better.”

The three waddled together toward the office, working together to haul their box of play, and as the children were about to find out, of learning. 

As the three set the box of building blocks onto the soft office rug and opened the lid, the girls instinctively reached for their favorite segments, before Molly swooped the box up and dumped it’s contents all over the floor.

Her two little ones squealed as they recoiled at the wave of lego segments crashing onto the rug, giggling heartily as they skittered and hid behind their mother. 

“Why’d you do that, Momma?” her older Joy asked between giggles.

“‘Cause we’ve got a lot of building to do!” Molly chirped, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “This is a big project. You two are gonna be making our whole house. You girls gotta be detailed too, every nook and cranny.”

Joy gasped in delight. “Oh, are we gonna play neighborhood?”

Molly let out a hearty laugh, memories flashing of watching Libby and her girls building as much as they could of the neighborhood block, playing at the day-to-day activities of the elders and families who lived around them. How they managed to take such humdrum and turn it into comical escapades the likes of Larry David never failed to astound and amuse her. 

“Not quite, hon. It’s a surprise. You gotta make it extra detailed, though. Hope, you think you can handle it?” she turned to her younger daughter. 

Hope smiled widely. Much as she loved Molly’s more physical games, lego was undoubtedly her favorite. Her grunkle Joey would always buy her the biggest sets whenever birthdays or Hanukkah came around, and when it came time to build those sets, she’d always insist on doing the building by herself. 

The little tyke puffed out her chest and set her hands on her hips, grinning confidently. “You bet, Momma!” 

The three soon got to work, the children collecting the blocks for their elaborate project, while their mother set to work on something a bit more simple. Simple, but effective. 

It wasn’t long before both projects were finished. Joy and Hope marveled proudly at the life-like replica of their house. A one-story structure, it was spacious and roomy, complete with a guest room, a large living room, and a dining room fit for a dozen seats. Not to mention the large backyard, surrounded by the vast forest Joy loved to explore with her Moms, though her sister was still afraid to enter the place. They loved every bit of their forever-home, and it showed in the sheer detail built into their small-scale tribute. 

They exchanged a high-five over their work, before looking to their mother and observing what she was building. Her project consisted less of one elaborate structure, instead several smaller ones. Tiny homes, without roofs, accompanying little in what their home had. None had any more than one bedroom, let alone any big dining rooms or expansive backyards. 

“What are these, Momma?” Joy asked, crawling toward her mother alongside her sister, both girls noticing the gloom in her eyes as she stacked her blocks together. 

She was pulled briefly out of her trance, turning her head toward both her daughters. She looked back at her work, and heaved out a sigh. She wasn’t expecting to feel so depressed building these things. “These are…” she hesitated to finish her thought, grief for her colleagues welling up inside her. “These are how a lot of other teachers live. How a lot of your Mom’s and my friends live.” she said dejectedly.

“Huh?” Was all Hope could respond with. “But you and Mom are teachers, you don’t live in these.” she said, picking up one of the sets and examining it up close. In it sat a lonesome minifigure on a tiny coffee table, the head’s expression chosen deliberately as one of empty misery. 

“Ew, and this one has a rat!” Joy said with a cringe, pointing at the small accessory, also placed deliberately, on the kitchen floor of another apartment. “We don’t have rats in our house!”

Molly let out an empty chuckle, shaking her head. “It wasn’t always this way”, she said, looking around the office that probably would have taken up a third of their old home. “You and your sister are too young to remember, but when we first started working, we had to live in homes just like these.” 

Inside Molly’s mind flashed memories of their old apartment. Insistent as the two were on living independently of their struggling parents, their early years left them more than regretful of that decision. Thin walls, loud neighbors and neglectful landlords were never a good combination. She distinctly remembered one instance involving her wife, rather uncharacteristically, storming off to a neighbor’s apartment blasting music late at night, nearly engaging in a fist-fight as Molly stayed in to calm their Joy down. 

“A few years ago, your grunkle Joey bought us this house as a going-away present when he left for Des Moines. But a lot of teachers aren’t so lucky.” she said, picking up another lego set she made. This apartment contained no tenant, instead having a crying minifigure sitting at its steps. A red and white sign placed on the door, Molly would have added the phrase “EVICTION” in big red sharpie letters, if only she had the time. 

“Did that man get kicked out?” Joy asked quietly, leaning on her mother, as if bracing for an answer she didn’t want to hear.

“Yeah. A good friend of ours a few towns away.” Molly replied.

The little lego man in question was, like the rest, based on a real colleague of theirs. An art teacher from Perfektbourg, the man had no family or friends to care for him after his eviction. He was caught sleeping in the teachers lounge one morning, fired that very same day and left without any prospects. Molly and Libby offered him their guest room after they found out, but he stubbornly refused. Where he was now, Molly and Libby didn’t know. 

“Teachers work long hours, but get paid scraps nowadays. Some can’t even afford to live in these tiny little apartments. And if they don’t have family or friends to help them out, they often end up homeless.”

A silence lingered between Molly and her daughters. “What happens then?” Hope asked, clutching her Momma’s arm, like her sister, as if she knew the answer but was afraid to hear it. 

“When you’re homeless? Nothing good.” Molly said. A new memory stirred. Her own family, living on the streets after forgoing their mortgage, saved only by the collective action of their fellow townspeople. The source of such collective action quite unexpected, to say the least. 

Yet such collective action wasn’t so different from the kind she and her wife were putting together. To stop such unfortunate events from ever happening again, and prevent the worst of outcomes if they did. 

“But that’s what your Mom and I are trying to correct, girls.” she said, taking each lego figure from their homes, adjusting their legs and placing them together so that they now stood, shoulder to shoulder, instead of sitting by themselves in their individual misery. 

“Your Mom and I are trying to form a special team, you see.” she explained. “A team of teachers from across the county, so we can all negotiate higher pay, shorter hours and better conditions with our bosses. And if another teacher ends up homeless like our friend, pool some money in so he can find a place to stay.”

The silence from her daughters persisted, but was broken by her youngest. “You help each other out when you’re in trouble.” Hope realized. “Like you did with me and the lego box?”

Molly’s eyes lit up at the connection her baby made. “Exactly!“ she cheered, holding her Hope close and giving her hair a ruffle as they hugged. “You’re such a clever little munchkin.”

“And you and Mom are leading this special team?” Joy asked, holding up miniature likenesses of Libby and herself.

Molly picked the toys from her daughter’s hands, setting them on the platform where the other minifigs stood. Shoulder to shoulder, in solidarity. “That’s right, love. Your Mom is out planning with other teachers today, while I’m here doing research.” 

She pulled them in close, giving them both a kiss atop their heads. “I promise, this won’t be forever. I love spending time with you girls. But-“

“But you’re doing it so you can play with us even more.” Joy said, giving her mother an understanding smile. “We understand, Momma.” 

“Mhm.” Hope agreed, snuggling up to her Momma’s side. “We can’t wait to play with you again when you’re finished.” 

Molly’s lips curled into a wide smile, eyes brimming with tears of pride in her two little ladies. For children still in preschool, they were surprisingly mature, and quick to understand. She and Libby did a good job raising them, even if they couldn’t spend as much time with them as they wanted. 

She pulled them both into a tight hug, letting the hot tears finally fall down her cheeks.

“Are those happy tears, Momma?” Hope asked, feeling the warm liquid drip onto her as she returned her mother’s embrace. 

“Yeah”, Molly said with a sniffle, “Happy tears.” 

She soon loosened her grip, wiping away the tears with a sleeve. “Tell you what”, she began. “You girls can stay in the office with me and play more lego. Just be a little quiet, yeah?” 

The two little tykes’ eyes lit up as they nodded. “Okay Momma!” they whispered.

Hours passed, and the shining sun soon set on a still, serene night. The birds which once trilled through the trees now rested in nests with their chicks. Their chirps were now replaced with that of crickets, hiding in the grass of the backyard and beyond. 

The silence was broken by a creaking of the house’s front door. A tired young woman, the houses other matron, trudged through, the usual bags beneath her eyes darker than usual.

“I’m home!” she called out.

“Mom!” a unison cry made her jump, one which she barely processed before two blurs zoomed up and glomped her in a tight hug. 

“Hey girls!” Libby laughed as she wrapped her arms around her little darlings, giving each a kiss atop the head. 

“Thanks for taking care of all the other teachers, Mom.” Hope said.

“We can’t wait to play with you when you and Momma form your team.” Joy added.

“Team? You mean the-“ Libby paused. “Molly?” she called out to her wife, who quickly strode out the office, meeting Libby’s gaze with a satisfied smirk. 

“I told them.” 

Libby gaped. “You told them?”

“I told them.” Molly nodded. 

“A-and they got it? How?” she huffed out in disbelief.

“How else?” Molly said in a hearty chuckle. “Through play.” 

Chapter Text

In a cramped living room in an even more cramped New York apartment, a group of three sit quietly on a couch in front of a blaring TV. A young teenager sits in the middle of the three, his oak-brown eyes glaring intently at the screen as he flicks, clicks and clacks on the game controller in his hands. Flanked on one side is his sister, a woman far older than he, and on another, her husband. Both of their expressions completely anathema to the boy’s determined gleam.

“I just don’t get the appeal.” the woman said, “I mean, Disney and Final Fantasy? It’s just so jarring.” 

The boy kept at it, eyes glued to the television, as if not having heard his sister. On screen was indeed an ensemble fighting force of anime and Disney, a spiky-haired teenager wielding some… giant key, alongside iconic cartoon characters fighting with their own magical weapons against an onslaught of dark, tar-like monsters. 

“Maybe it’s a zeitgeist thing.” her husband across the couch said in his thick Agentinian accent. His neutral frown curled into a teasing grin as he looked to his lovely wife. “Guess we’re getting old, huh amor?”

“Guess so.” she conceded with a chuckle before smiling down at her swollen belly.

“What do you think, little miracle? You’re not gonna be like your lame uncle Joey, are ya? You’re gonna have good taste in video games, yes you are~ yes you are~.” Leah cooed. Her brother unfortunately kept on, ignoring her remark. She was hoping to get some kind of rise out of him, as she loved to do in recent years, but to no avail.

Her husband reached across the couch to sweetly caress his wife’s tummy. This, of all things, got the kind of reaction Leah was looking for. “Will you guys be gross herbs somewhere else? I’m this close to finally beating Ansem!” her brother huffed indignantly.

“Woah, easy chavón.” Leah’s husband said in a hearty chuckle, raising his hands in the air. “Keep that up and I might have to do this!” he reached out towards the boy, wrapping an arm around his neck and using another to grind a fist on his head with a well-earned nuggie.

“Ack! I said quit it!” the boy pleaded, his hair ruffled by the man beside him as he let go. His sister let out a giggle, glad that at least her husband could mess with the edgy teenager. Leah remembered her own experiences during that tumultuous time in her youth, so full of angst and rebelliousness. Still, it was jarring to see it all from the outside looking in. Joey was such a sweet boy growing up, but now? A complete turnaround. Constantly irritated, trussed in black, always having something to complain about or disparage. She wondered if her parents felt as off-put when they saw her go through that odd transition from childhood to adulthood. Regardless, she got a special satisfaction from messing with the little irritant, now that he was in that same transition. Vulnerable as she was with the child inside her however, Leah was unfortunately forced to forgo such a pastime for the time being. 

Still, she could at least instigate a rise in a more verbal form. “Hey, sweetie”, she called to her husband, a sly grin on her face. “Wanna do a bit?”

“Oh no, not a bit…” Joey grumbled, his attention taken from the game at the sound of that very word.

“Hm? Alright amor.” Her husband replied. “What’s the bit?”

“Okay, so I’m gonna be the angel on Joey’s shoulder-“

“Please don’t…” Joey pleaded.

“-and you’re gonna be the devil. And we’re gonna suggest stuff to him.” 

“ Copado. Let’s do it.”

“Ugh…” 

“Okay, here we go.” She cleared her throat. “Hey Joey, I think you should uh… read a book. Read a book after this game.”

A brief silence followed before Joey gave in and answered. “Like a manga?”

“Wha- No, like a real book ya freakin’ dork.” 

Her husband interjected, his voice now high-pitched and gravelly for dramatic effect. “Joey, I think you should f$@~#%|%|@&$~¥]|^#\=€?]%~{*%?!’|.”

“WOAH!” Joey yelped at the vulgarity.

“Now Joey, hold on,” his sister said between giggles, “I know that sounds tempting but DON’T listen to him, he’s got a sociopathic charm-“

“BLAAAAAAHAHAHARGH!” The “devil” beside him cackled, shaking Joey back and forth by the shoulders, ”Joey, kill yourself todayyyyyyyy…”

 “Why would I-“

“Joey, instead of doing that you should, uh, go for a walk.”

“Will you both please- “

“No, no, stay indoors! Get addicted to porn!”

“WHAT?” 

“Huh, maybe you should get- wait, no! Listen to me, Joey I’m the-“

“Angel, porn is very very interesting...” he grinned at his counterpart, eyebrows bobbing up-and-down. 

“Yeah it is, isn’t it?”, the angel mock-considered, stroking her chin, before waving her hands about in refusal. “Wait wait wait no no no-!”

“If you watch porn, you’ll do well in bed, Joey~” he said, shaking the boy to and fro by the shoulders once again.

 “Please stop…” the boy begged as he bobbed back and forth, half flustered and half focused on the game. 

“Okay, Joey, how ‘bout this, instead of that, you should, uh, do your taxes on time. That’s fun.” 

“Wh- I’m not even old enough to do taxes!”

“No, file for an extension!!!”

Leah feigned consideration once again. “Aw man, maybe you should- wait NO NO NO-!”

“Don’t do them at all! Evade them for yearrrrssssss~”

“Wait, can I actually talk about tax policy for a sec?” Joey asked, his recent tendency to bring politics into every discussion kicking in. 

A brief silence lingered before Leah answered. “Uh, sure I guess.” she shrugged. 

“Yeah okay, why not.” Her husband affirmed, voice still gravelly.

“Yeah go for it, I think the devil and I are kind of in agreement for once.”

“Hahaha, I love this gal~” he said, pointing finger guns at his dearest angel. 

“Dude- You know, the more I know about you the more I like, I gotta be honest.” she pointed back, smiling.

“Sometimes opposites attract!”

“It’s true man, it’s true. We should hang out more- anyways, go on Joey.”

“Ok cool.” Joey sighed in relief. “I feel like Bush’s spending policy on things like No Child Left Behind combined with-“

“Yaaaaaawn, SNORE, SNOOOORRREEEEEE…” Leah’s husband cut him off. 

“Yeah Joey, as your shoulder angel I gotta say, I’m not engaged with this.”

“YOU GUYS DIDN’T EVEN LET ME FINISH MY SENTENCE-“ 

An anguished cry from the television made Joey whip his head back toward the screen. His jaw dropped, eyes widening at the sight. Sora, the spiky-haired hero of the game, floating dead in a dark abyss, below him the options to continue or quit the game.  “Oh no, no, no! I was so close!” 

“Yes! Fifth loss! Time to switch!” Leah pumped her fist. “Now we can play an actual game. What are you in the mood for, hon?” she asked her husband across the couch. 

“Hm…” the man pondered his options, rubbing the back of his head. “Budokai 3?” he suggested as their eyes made contact again. 

“Eh, I’m thinking something more spooky. Resident Evil 4?” 

“Wait, did you guys do this bit just to switch games?” Joey asked.

The other two began to snicker, before fully breaking out into cackling laughter. “And there it is!” she said, giving her little brother’s arm a playful jab. “Quick on the uptake as usual, Joe Shmoe.”

“Got you good, eh boludo ?” Leah’s husband asked between giggles, ruffling the boy’s hair. 

Joey sighed, crossing his arms and slumping into the couch as he handed the controller. “You guys are total herbs .”

Years later, in a considerably less cramped living room in a less cramped house in Brighton, Iowa, a group of three sit on a couch in front of a TV. The teenager is now a man grown, sitting by his young niece as his sister sits on the other side of the couch. The niece in question glares intently at the screen as she clicks and clacks her controller, while the other two sit contentedly and watch.

“So they really went back to basics and made Sonic 2D, huh?” Joey asked.

“Only this once.” Libby replied. “Promotion for this game was pretty light, especially compared to Forces. It really is a shame too, Forces stank.”

“Hm.” was all Joey could reply with. He didn’t care much for Sonic growing up. Kingdom Hearts was always his go-to as a teenager. Contrived plots and corny dialogue aside, at least none of the titles were glitchy messes. Yet, try as he might in his younger years, he could never quite get Libby into them the same way she was into Sonic. Yet he saw, as he did with almost everything about the girl, a little bit of himself as she passionately defended yet rebuked her favorite games. A tirade about Sonic 06 being the death-knell of the franchise would quickly be followed by one about Shadow’s “masterful” character arc over the years. Which would in turn be followed by another tirade about how little said arc was utilized nowadays. It really wasn’t too dissimilar to his own spiels about how Kingdom Hearts would die after 3 if they didn’t find a way to “soft reboot” it, among other problems he had with the franchise he loved.

The main difference between the two, however, was how his sister would take him right out of said tirades with one of her famous “bits”. 

He noticed how Leah never messed with Libby the way she messed with him. He supposed it was natural, all part of the differences between the relationship of a mother and daughter compared to that of a brother and sister. As a teenager he couldn’t stand it, but re-living the experience here, watching his niece play a game he didn’t much care for, he found himself… oddly missing it. Taking jokes was a lot easier after that stage of growth. So too was dishing them out.

“Hey, sis.” Joey turned to Leah. “You wanna do a bit?”

Leah’s eyes, fixed on the TV, went wide before she shot him an astonished look. “What did you just say?”

“I said, do you wanna do a bit?” 

She let out a breathy chuckle, not quite knowing where this was going. “Since when did you enjoy doing bits?”

“Just feelin’ like trying something new.” he shrugged.

“What are you guys talking about?” Libby chimed in, the new noise throwing the girl off her focus. 

“We’re doing a bit!” Joey tried to explain. “It’s like a sort of… improv role play. Your Mom and I did this all the time when we were younger.”

“ I did it all the time, your uncle hated it.” Leah corrected with a smirk.

“Only because I was always the butt of every bit!” he shot back. 

“Okay, okay.” his sister conceded, arms raised in defeat. “I’ll bite. What’s the bit?” 

“Okay, so this bit is called, uh… ‘Why the 2020 Election happened the way it did’.“

Leah scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You and your politics…” she bemoaned, annoyed but still interested to see where this bit was going.

Joey ignored her remark. “So you’re gonna be Sonic, I’m gonna be Trump, and Libby is… Chris Wallace.” 

“Wait what?” Libby asked, having only half-listened to the exchange. “I’m who?”

“You’re the moderator. I think it was Chris Wallace who moderated 2020, wasn’t it?” he asked, turning to Leah.

“Joey, I have no idea.” Leah deadpanned. 

“Wait, so Mom’s Sonic and you’re the former president?”

“That’s right, this is Sonic debating Donald Trump for the presidency. He, uh… won a surprise victory in South Carolina and clinched all the delegates from there.”

“Honestly, I can see it.” Leah snickered, before realizing something. “Wait, what does Sonic even sound like?” she asked.

“Uh… he’s got sort of a… surfer dude vibe. Right Libby?”

“For the most part, yeah.” Libby affirmed, eyes still on the screen. “Most of Sonic’s voice actors go for that impression. Then there was Jaleel White’s rendition which sounded like… honestly I have no idea how to describe that one.”

“Okay, so generic ‘90s surfer dude. Got it.” Leah nodded.

“Alright so Libby, you gotta open.” Joey said.

“Huh? Oh, okay.” Libby responded, clearing her throat. “Hello and good evening everyone, this is Chris Wallace with, uh… he’s from FOX News right-“

“Hello- hello, Chris Wallace.” Joey interrupted, his voice lower and more gravelly, his lips slightly pursed and his light New York accent now far thicker than normal.

“Oh okay, just going straight in, not even gonna answer.”

“Nope.” he replied, holding back a smile, raising his hand with an iconic ring gesture. 

“Well, uh, good evening Mr. President.”

“Thank you, great to be here, that’s okay…” he swayed his hands about, again in classic fashion of the person he mocked. 

“And uh, hello Sonic!”

Leah took a moment to realize it was her turn to speak. Rusty at this she certainly was. “Oh, it’s my turn? Okay, uh… hey dudes! Great to be here, brahs ! Uh… nothing like… running fast, and uh… eating chili dogs, right? That’s what I like to eat?”

“YOU ARE THE SINGLE BIGGEST LIAR-“ Joey pointed.

“Woah, okay-!“

“Wait Mr. President-“

“YOU HAD- WAIT WAIT- YOU WERE THERE FOR THIRTY-TWO YEARS, WHY DIDN’T YOU DO ANYTHING-“

“Mr. President-“ Libby began to giggle, “we haven’t started yet-“

“YOU WERE THERE FOR THIRTY-TWO YEARS, WHY DIDN'T YOU-“

“We haven’t started yet-“

“WHY DIDN'T YOU DO ANYTHING- Go ahead, go ahead.” 

“We haven’t started yet.”

“Go ahead.” 

“Okay, uh, welcome to our first round of this year’s presidential debates. Joined with us on stage are-“

“Yo, listen brosefs , I don’t mean to get political right off the bat, dude-os , but- ah sorry I got something stuck in my teeth.” Leah broke character, moving to flick her tongue around her mouth in search of some food-debris from the dinner they just finished. 

“As I was saying , joined with us on stage are-“

“WHY DOES- WHY DOES HE GET TO GO OVER BUT I CAN’T TALK-? I GOT THE BUZZER- WHY COULD HE TALK-? HE WAS TALKING-“

“Mr. President, please, we’re going to start-“

“WHY DOES HE GET TO TALK-!”

“WE’RE GOING TO START. IN. ONE. MINUTE.” Libby snapped, holding back a smile. “We need to introduce you guys.”

“That’s okay, go ahead, go ahead.” 

“President Dump…” Leah grumbled, still out of character.

That earned a snicker from both brother and daughter, breaking characters alongside her. “Nice one, Mom.” Libby said sarcastically.

“Yeah, never heard that one before, sis.”

Leah put her hands to her face to hide the red, laughing to herself. “Gimme a break, I haven’t done this in a while!” 

“Okay, uh, anyways- Oh- no no no! Nooooooooo!!!” Libby cried as she turned back to the screen. Her first loss out of five.

The “President” beside Libby angrily pointed a finger at his “opponent” across the couch, “YOU WERE THERE FOR FORTY-SEVEN YEARS, WHY DIDN’T YOU DO ANYTHING IF YOU WERE THERE, YOU WERE THERE FOR-”

Libby tried to intervene between giggles. “Hold on Mr. President, that wasn’t your cue-” 

“YOU HAD THE SECRET RINGS, AND YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING, YOU HAD THE CHANCE TO DO IT- YOU HAD THE SECRET RINGS AND YOU DIDN’T DO IT-”

“Mr. President-”

“AND HE’S KNOWN AS THE ‘BLUE BLUR’ BUT HE HASN’T DONE ANYTHING- WHY IS THAT- I’M JUST SAYING, THAT’S INTERESTING, RIGHT-”

“Mr… Mr. President…” was all she could manage before breaking out into full-on laughter, holding her sides.

“AND LOOK AT WHAT CHI- LOOK AT WHAT CHINA’S DONE TO THE ECONOMY- THEY’VE GIVEN ALL THE MONEY TO SONIC… THEY’VE GIVEN ALL THE MONEY TO HIM…” he finally finished his faux-tirade, proud of the howling laughter it sent his niece into. 

“Joey, you’re just hijacking this bit.” Leah finally responded, shaking her head. 

“Oh come on, that’s what Trump does, he hijacks things!”

“He keeps…” Libby started, still lost in laughter, trying her best to imitate her uncle’s impression, “He keeps… he keeps letting Robotnik survive…” she finally managed, holding up her right hand in a similar ring gesture. 

Joey let out a chuckle before getting back into character. “WHY DOES HE KEEP LETTING ROBOTNIK SURVIVE- THIS GUY BLEW UP THE MOON!”

That earned a wild cackle from his niece, falling backwards on the couch and kicking her feet, which in turn earned a reluctant smile from her mother. 

“WHY THE HELL DOES HE KEEP LETTING HIM GO, IT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE…”

“You did- you did let him blow up the moon, Mom.” Libby said, her hysterics finally dying down as she sat back up.

“Wait, really? In what game?”

“Uh, Adventure 2 I think.”

“Aw really? I’m sorry.”

“YOU ARE THE SINGLE BIG- YOU’RE PROBABLY WORSE, THAN JEB BUSH.”

“Joey, I’m not engaging anymore. This is a terrible bit.”

“I liked it!” Libby chirped, wiping away dried tears of laughter from her cheeks. “Can I make up a bit?” 

“Go for it, bud.” Joey said, his voice reverting to normal.

“ Anything to take me out of this one.”

“Okay, so uh…” 

Libby began to invent a world and scenario for her mother and uncle to take part in. As she did so, the two siblings turned toward each other, exchanging a contented look. Joey couldn’t be happier to be back in Brighton again, now able to share in a multitude of moments like this with his family. Leah, despite the cringeworthy last few minutes, felt the exact same way. Seeing the positive impact it had on Libby made it all the more special. The humor, the confidence, the sheer life emanating from Leah’s sweet little miracle in this not-so-cramped living room wouldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for her brother being here. For that, Leah was eternally thankful, and would do anything and everything to keep it that way. Just like Joey was, and likewise vowed to do. 

“Good to have you home, boludo .” Leah smiled at her brother.

Joey returned the smile. “Good to be home, herb.”