Work Text:
Derek waltzed into the kitchen. Skyler was already sitting down by the kitchen counter, with her brow furrowed and a chewed pencil in her mouth. Something must be seriously troubling her, he reckoned. She had forgotten to pour him his cereal.
He looked around the cupboards - to find the one that contained the cereal. And the one that contained the bowls.
"Hey, Dad," Sky said. "Can I ask you to look over some schoolwork?"
"You can. But you know schoolwork isn't my thing, right?" he told her, as he went into the fridge to hunt for orange juice.
"Yes, Dad. I have indeed met you before. But this is a poem I wrote for English class. Since you do songwriting and, since songwriting and poetry are very similar, I thought maybe you could give me some feedback. So, can you take a look? I want to know if it's any good."
"Okay."
Skyler shoved her paper in front of him.
"So...," Sky began, "... what do you think? I was thinking maybe three metaphors might be overkill but they all kind of tie together with the theme, right?"
He took a big gulp of orange juice before setting the page down.
"Interesting use of the gender-neutral pronoun. Who is it about?" he asked.
"It's not about anyone," Sky replied, clearly a little annoyed.
"It's a bit, uh, heavy, Sky."
"That's what I was going for."
"Yeah. Have you tried talking to this person, telling them how you feel?" he asked with real concern.
"Dad - I told you. It's not about anyone. I'm just writing about love and whatever because it's like expected."
Luca walked in and set his bag down on the counter. "You're talking about the poetry assignment?"
"Yeah," Sky replied.
"Well, you do you. My sonnet is gonna be an ode to the weekend," Luca told her as he opened the fridge and grabbed a protein shake.
"The singer?" Skyler inquired.
"No."
"Like 'Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday'?" asked Derek.
"Yeah - mind if I borrow that one?"
"Not one of mine."
"Shame," Luca answered before picking up his bag and walking out.
Derek addressed Skyler, in a serious manner. "But seriously -" he began, "- you can talk to me about these sorts of things. Or, you know, you could talk to Casey if you'd rather have a talk woman to woman."
Skyler pursed her lips. Then, in a voice that did not completely betray the rage behind her tranquillity, responded, "Dad, if I've said it once, I've said it enough times. My poem is not about anyone. I have one of those little things called an imagination."
"Nah, teenagers don't have imaginations," Derek replied. Then he chugged some juice straight from the carton.
"We really do. Think of it this way. You write tortured love songs all the time. But you've been basically single for the last three years. So am I gonna find out that you have a muse?"
"Eh," he dismissed dismissively. "I'm just writing what sells".
"And I'm just writing whatever will get me a high grade".
Casey came into the kitchen with a bedhead and a big yawn.
"You sleep bad last night?" Derek asked as he poured her the usual (orange juice).
"What? No!" she denied.
"You were up all night working," he accused.
"No I wasn't! I watched some of my favourite shows, just like you told me to. Then I went to bed early."
"Casey, you have a sticky note in your hair," he said, as he reached out and peeled the sticky note from her hair. "How did you get this sticky note in your hair?"
"Okay, you got me. I'm sorry - it's just I've got my court presentation coming up tomorrow and there's still so much to do and -"
Derek shook his head and tutted in mock outrage. "- Don't apologize to me. It's not me you should be apologizing to."
"Can you look over my poetry assignment?" Skyler asked Casey. "I want to know if it's any good and Dad's being no help at all. We're doing poems in the style of the romantic poets. Like Lord Byron, Emily Dickinson, Elizabeth Barrett Browning."
"Oh, I love Elizabeth Barrett Browning," Casey enthused. "I dressed up as her for an English project back in the day. Don't you remember, Derek?"
"I remember you forcing me into a costume too," Derek replied without enthusiasm. "But you didn't dress up as her. You were Mary Shelley."
"Oh, yeah. That's right. And I made you dress up as her husband, Percy."
Sky rolled her eyes. "Of course you did," she muttered under her breath.
"Eh," sniffed Casey. "Anything for a higher grade... I used to love poetry so much in high school. I was always writing poems about my boyfriends. Or poems about boys who I wanted to be my boyfriend."
"She did do that," Derek agreed.
"You read them?" Skyler questioned with an eyebrow arched doubtfully.
"He did more than just read them. He sometimes submitted them as English assignments," Casey informed her.
"They were pretty decent. I never got less than an A."
"No, I never got you less than an A."
"I can't believe you let Dad use your poems," said Sky.
"Yeah, well, you shouldn't because I didn't."
"Hey, I would always change around the genders!" Derek declared. "That counts as transformative work."
"Hmph," Casey grunted, unimpressed.
"Okay, well, as a fellow poet, what do you think of my poem?" Skyler asked Casey, pressing the page into Casey's hands.
Casey read the poem.
"Oh, Skyler!" she exclaimed, upon finishing it. "This is heartbreaking. Are you okay? Who is this about?"
Casey made for the kitchen towel so she could dab at her welling eyes.
Skyler sighed deeply and with great ire. "Nevermind that. Is it any good?"
"It's very good... but you know it's... concerning . Do you want to... talk about anything? With your Dad or I?"
Casey's eyes brimmed wide full of compassion and compassionate understanding. Skyler couldn't take it. She snatched the offending verse back and stuck it in her satchel.
"IT'S NOT ABOUT ANYONE!" Skyler snapped suddenly.
"I'm sorry Sky," Casey said. "If you say it's not about anyone then it's not about anyone. We believe you. Right, Derek?"
"Right," said Derek.
"And it's a good poem. Right, Derek?"
"Very good... Actually, can I borrow some of the lines to work into a song?"
"No!" Sky replied before letting out a little snort-laugh. "Okay, good -" she said, breathing easier. "- I'll be on my way now. And you swear it's good and you're not just saying that?"
"Oh, you'll get an A for sure!" Casey encouraged, with a winning smile.
Skyler smiled back, reassured, before turning and leaving the kitchen.
"An A and maybe sent to the guidance counselor?" Derek pondered aloud once his daughter was out of earshot.
"That's a thought," Casey assented. "We should probably encourage her to go..." Then she leaned in closer to him and, in a low voice, asked, "So, who do you think it's about? Some guy from school?"