Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Was she good for you today?" Mark asks as he buckles his sleeping daughter into her car seat. He's ninety percent sure she's faking to get carried to the car, but it's been a long day and he can use the extra cuddle time. 

“As always," Devon answers. "Ran around like a little banshee in the yard for about an hour. Then we had some apple slices and she worked on her reading for the day."

He pretends not to notice said banshee peeking through her eyelashes and he secures her chest clip. "Any other homework left?"

"I don't think so," she shakes her head. "She does have two new library books. One is staying here for me to read to her and the other is your new bedtime story material for the week."

"Gotcha." He closes the car door. "Thanks for watching her, see you tomorrow?"

"Of course."

Mark gets in the car and starts the drive home, every so often glancing at his daughter's face in the mirror. She's still pretending to be asleep. "I wonder what I should make for dinner tonight?" He muses aloud. "Maybe asparagus? Broccoli? Possibly some Brussel sprouts?"

"Papa, ew!" Penelope forgets to keep pretending in her disgust. "You know I only eat carrots!" The R sound turns to a W in her six year old mouth. "Green vegetables are icky."

"Right, of course," he laughs. "Carrots and cauliflower?"

"Only carrots!” She shrieks out a laugh. 

“You’re going to turn orange,” he tells her. “I’ll have to start calling you my lucky pumpkin instead of my lucky Penny.”

Her little brow furrows in worried thought, and she’s silent for several somber seconds. “Okay Papa, some cauliflower.”

“That’s my girl,” he chuckles. “We’ve got some ice cream for dessert tonight. And if you’re good, tomorrow night we’re making cookies.”

"But Papa, you have to go to my school tomorrow!" Penelope pipes up helpfully from the backseat. "You gotta meet my new teacher! She's so pretty and so nice."

"You know Aunt Devon picks you up on Fridays," he reminds her. "Papa has work until later.”

"But Papa, it’s teacher conference day,” she says. 

Mark stifles a sigh. “Pen, you know you’re supposed to tell me about these things.”

“I did! You said ‘uh-huh, uh-huh, I’m busy,’ so I put it on your important paper spot,” she tells him. 

Now that she says it, he vaguely recalls seeing an envelope from her school. He never got around to reading it. “I’ll look at it when we get home.”

“You gotta!”

And so Mark finds himself parking in front of the faded Kier Eagan Elementary School Pygmy Goats sign at 2:25pm on Friday. He cashed in a last minute favor with his office neighbor to take over his last lecture of the day since he was screening a documentary for that class anyway. 

The first grade classrooms are on the far left of the small building, and Penelope’s class is at the very end of the hall. There’s another parent in the hall when he gets there; she’s younger than him by probably fifteen to twenty years. Short, slender, red hair. Her hair and makeup are both a little messy, as if she’s spent the day running back and forth. She’s beautiful in that effortless way that people can only be when they aren’t trying. 

When she notices him, she smiles and lifts a hand in greeting. “Which one's yours?" She gestures to the bulletin board of student photos to the side of the door. 

With a grimace, he points to the worst photo on the entire board. Penelope Scout mid-sneeze. "Believe it or not, this was her retake. The night before her first picture day, she was playing with one of those pop up suction cup toys while I made dinner, and I didn't notice her sticking it to her face. She looked like she had mega chicken pox. Red spots on her cheeks, her forehead, even her nose. That's my Penny for you."

"Photogenic kiddo, huh?"

"Yeah," Mark chuckles. "She got that from me. Spitting image of her mom, and she can't photograph well for the life of her."

"Oh? Will her mom be joining you today?"

These questions never cease to be awkward. "Ah, no"—he rubs his thumb over his well worn wedding band—"she's, uh, she's not around anymore."

The woman's eyes fall to his hand, and that look of woeful understanding flicks across her features. "I'm sorry."

"So which one is yours?" He asks loudly. He's never been able to handle the sympathetic comments or the pitying looks.

To her credit, she takes the topic change in stride. "None of them," she says with a small smile, "or all of them. Depends how you look at it." She extends a slender finger and points to the photo taped to the top of the board. The picture of the new teacher. 

Well, that's a faux pas from both of them at least. "Oh. I didn't realize. Thought you were another parent."

"Helena Riggs." She offers a hand to shake. "Or, well, Helly really. You can call me Helly."

Mark's hand engulfs hers completely. "Helly." He likes the way her name tastes on his tongue. "I'm Mark. Er, Scout. Mark Scout. But you should know that because, um, Penny. Penelope. Penelope Scout." Two seconds of skin to skin contact with a woman and his Broca's area ceases function. Maybe he should take Devon up on her offer to set him up on a blind date or speed dating or any event that has him socializing. He can't remember the last time he touched someone who wasn't related to him. 

She drops his hand and steps toward the classroom door. "The last parent no-showed, so I was stretching my legs. You got here a minute after I finished my walk. That's why I wasn't inside," she explains as she waves him in ahead of her. 

Mark looks around the room. It's definitely more colorful than it had been under the old teacher; there's rainbow posters on one wall, a bed sheet with finger paint in a corner, and a yellow sunflower rug at the front of the room. He can see why Penny has been raging about her. "Nice to finally meet the famous Miss Wigs," he imitates the way Penny says the name. 

"You sound just like her," she laughs. The sound is richer than he would expect from her. 

“Maybe she sounds just like me,” he suggests, his mouth curling into an easy smile. 

“Maybe she does,” she matches his energy. “Anyway”—she gestures for him to sit—“let’s get to it.” She picks up a folder with Penny’s name on it. “I’ve not noticed anything concerning about Penny. She’s on level for math and excels in reading. She’s friendly and always eager to jump in and lend a hand.”

This is all stuff he’s heard before. “Sounds about right,” he tells her. “Don’t sit her next to Jim though, those two get on like a house on fire.”

“I learned my lesson on that already,” she laughs. “They keep trying to sit together during silent reading time, and I have to remind them that the key word in silent reading is ‘silent.’”

It doesn’t surprise him. “They went to the same preschool, they’ve been best friends for three years.”

“Do you have any questions for me?” She asks. “With the last teacher departing so suddenly, we thought the parents might have some concerns. Hence the parent teacher conferences today. I’m the only one doing them.”

Mark thinks for a second and asks the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you staying the rest of the year?”

Helly nods. “That’s the plan,” she tells him. “I’m technically finishing out my student teaching the next two months, but when this position opened, they need to fill it fast, so my contract might not be renewed for next year, but I’ll be here until June.”

“Good,” he nods. “Penny doesn’t do well with big change. She cried for three hours when she heard she was getting a new teacher. It’s worked out though; she likes you. Has been raving to me about Miss Wigs since you started.”

A light satisfied flush tints her cheeks. “I’m glad to hear, she’s a good kid.”

He smiles. “I don’t think I have any other concerns,” he says. “I usually work late on Fridays, so it’ll be nice to have the extra time with Pen tonight. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Before he can stand to leave, she reaches across the table and rests a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry about before," she says. "I should have known about Penny's mom. I haven't been here for long, but that's not an excuse. I assumed until now that the woman I see at pickup most days is her mother."

"My sister," he states. 

"That makes sense." She nods. "She looks like you."

"We're twins. I'm older."

"I'm a twin too!" Immediately after she says it, her face crinkles in embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm not. Well, I was, but uh...I parasitized mine in the womb?" Her voice pitches up and he can't help but notice the red flush steadily creeping up her neck. 

He nods slowly, unsure of how to respond to that. 

"Fuck. Wait, shit, I shouldn't swear," the last part comes out sotto voce. "Never mind all that, I can't seem to stop putting my foot in my mouth today. I'm sorry, I must not be instilling a lot of confidence in my teaching abilities right now."

"Don't worry about it." He waves his hand dismissively. "You should have seen me my first year teaching. I once sweat so much that my notes smudged to the point of illegibility, and I forgot the order of events leading to the assassin of Archduke Franz Ferdinand."

“You teach?!” Her face lights up. “History? What grade?”

The eagerness is cute. She’s cute. Which is a strange thing for him to notice; the last time he thought that about someone was…he doesn’t remember. “Yes, history. Early twentieth century, World War I, and the interwar period. I’m a professor at Ganz College.”

Wow, she mouths. “Pretty impressive old man.” A small smirk. Then another almost panicked expression. “Shit, sorry. Oh fuck, I swore again. I promise I don’t swear in front of the kiddos.”

Mark shakes his head and chuckles. “Nothing Pen hasn’t heard before. I’m afraid her aunt and I aren’t the best examples in that regard.”

Helly schools her expression and tucks a flyaway strand of curly red hair behind an ear. “She’s one of my best readers, so I think you’re a fine example in some regards.”

He warms at the compliment. It’s always nice to hear that he’s doing a good job as a parent from someone other than Devon. “Thank you. I try my best.”

She squeezes his arm, and he realizes that she’s still touching him, that she’s been touching him this whole time. Fire courses up his arm, into his bloodstream, to his heart, downward to…other places. And nope, he can’t think like that. He’s not going to think inappropriate thoughts about his daughter’s teacher. His daughter’s very young and very beautiful teacher whom he must retain a polite but professional distance from. “-didn’t hear anything I said, did you?” Oh shit, she was speaking. 

Mark ducks his head. “Zoned out there, sorry,” he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Anyway, I should be heading out. Penny is excited to make cookies and watch a movie tonight. Fridays are snacks and snuggles night, and she’ll be delighted to have a few extra hours.”

“That’s sweet.” Helly finally removes her hand from his arm. His blood cools and he can think clearly again. “I was asking if you’d be willing to sign up to chaperone our aquarium field trip later this year. We need another two volunteers, and I assume you already have a background check the school will accept. If we don’t have enough volunteers in advance, the school will cancel the trip. It’s on a Saturday.”

His ready built excuse of teaching is whisked away with that. He opens his mouth to come up with any other excuse, but then she sticks out her lower lip and widens her eyes. The puppy dog eyes. He’s a sucker for the puppy dog eyes. He couldn’t resist Gemma’s, he can’t resist Penny’s, and, apparently, he can’t resist Helly’s either. “Of course,” he finds himself saying. “Should I give you my phone number?” Then, hastily, he adds, “You know, so you can text me information about the event. Not any other reason.” He’s going to throw himself in the creek. 

Helly’s mouth—soft, pink, kissa-NO—curves into an amused smile. “I have your phone number, Mark. You’re Penelope’s emergency contact. I have your cell and your office extension. I know how to reach you.”

“Right, stupid.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I should have thought about that.”

“Just giving you shit,” briefly she grins, then, “goddamnit, I swear I…okay maybe perhaps I could end that at ‘I swear.’”

Awkwardness forgotten, Mark laughs at the way her brow furrows. “I promise I won’t tell on you,” he whispers conspiratorially. 

She starts to respond, but a knock on the door draws her attention. “Oh no!” She says suddenly. “We’ve gone over time, my next parent is here.” She stands up and herds him toward the door, which she opens to reveal a parent he vaguely recalls from the Christmas recital last month. “I am so sorry,” she’s saying. “Come on in, let’s get started, you’re David’s mom right?”

He skirts around the two women and out into the hall. As the door to the classroom closes, Helly looks back over her shoulder and fucking winks at him. She winks. What’s he supposed to think of that?! He can already tell he’s fucked twelve ways from Tuesday if he interacts with her again. Now he’ll just have to figure out a way to minimize any interactions. 

Chapter Text

Mark does his best to avoid crossing paths with Helly in the mornings when he drops Penny off and on Monday and Wednesday afternoons when he picks her up. It's relatively easy since she's off like a shot in the mornings and just as fast to come running to regale him with her latest story in the afternoon. But three weeks later, he gets to the front of the pick up line, and Penny is nowhere to be seen. After five minutes—and the car behind him laying on the horn—he circles around to the parking lot and finds an empty spot. 

He seeks out the teacher on bus duty for the day. "Excuse me, do you know where I might find my daughter?" He asks. "She's not come out yet and usually she's out by now."

The teacher looks around as if he'll see her hiding somewhere. "Who's her teacher?"

"Miss Riggs."

"Oh, have you checked your phone?" He asks. "There was a small scuffle between a few students in Miss Riggs's class when the bell went off. They brought the kids to the office and contacted their parents."

Sure enough, he has two missed calls and a text when he fishes his phone out and turns it off Do Not Disturb. 

Pen's School 3:35 PM: Hello Mr. Scout, your daughter, Penelope, was involved in an argument with another student this afternoon. Nobody was injured, but you will need to come inside to pick her up this afternoon. 

Mark heads into the building and finds Penelope sitting in the main office with her arms crossed and her face contorted with rage that's clearly directed at a little boy on the other side of the room. On Penny's right is Jim who has drying tear tracks down his cheeks. 

"Ah, you must be Mr. Scout," a young secretary rises from the desk. "Mr. George and Mrs. Lewis are already here. If you wouldn't mind joining them in Mr. Milchick's office?" She gestures toward a closed door off to the side. "I'll continue to keep an eye on the children."

On his way into the office, he sends a look over his shoulder. The kind of look that says We'll be talking later, young lady. Penny doesn't break eye contact with the other kid. 

Inside the office, he finds the assistant principal, two parents, and Helly. Because of course she's here. "Come on in, take a seat," Mr. Milchick offers him a warm smile and gestures at the only remaining chair. As soon as he sits, Mr. Milchick launches into it. "Thank you all for being so willing to come inside and discuss this. Now I'm sure you're all aware of the anti-bullying policy we have here at Kier Eagan Elementary, hmm?"

Mark glances to Dylan who shrugs slightly. They're both out of the loop it seems. 

"Good," Mr. Milchick continues despite no response. "Unfortunately, since all of your children were involved in the incident, they're all going to face the same punishment. Two days of in-school suspension will be sufficient. They'll each be put in a room by themselves with a homework packet. No recess and they'll eat lunch in the office. We have a bathroom at the nurse's station they can use on those days."

He's about to rise a fuss himself when the woman by the window, Mrs. Lewis presumably, pipes up. "I'm sorry, you haven't told us what happened."

Over Mr. Milchick's shoulder, Helly's mouth presses in a thin line. "If you would allow me to—"

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary," he cuts her off. "I assure you, my judgment is sound and this is the most appropriate course of action. There was some strong language used, but no physical harm was done."

"I'd like to hear it from my kid," Mark says. 

"Yeah!" Dylan agrees. 

Mrs. Lewis nods as well. 

Mr. Milchick pinches the bridge of his nose as if they're the troublemaking kids. "For non-violent altercations, school policy is to—"

"Seth." This time it's Helly cutting him off. "You know as well as I do that you're oversimplifying this. Let the kids explain themselves."

He picks up the phone on his desk. "Ms. Huang, would you send the children in please?"

A minute later, the door bursts open and Penelope immediately launches into her explanation. "Daniel told Jim he had girl dog hair and he had scissors and was going to cut it," she says in a jumble. "So I told him he was being a mean dumb racer. But he said he's not a racer since he doesn't drive racecars. But I told him I meant  racer like someone who doesn't like people who look different. And then he said I was a stupid face and he grabbed Jim's hair and he tried to cut it."

"Nuh-uh!" Daniel says. "I didn't say nothing to Jim, he's lying. He's a big baby."

"Am not!" Jim says from where he's hiding behind Penny. 

"You cried when I won the spelling game!"

"Did not!"

"One, two, three, eyes on me," Helly draws their attention with ease. "One at a time please. Jim, can you tell us what happened."

Jim steps forward but keeps a grip on Penny's hand. "Yesterday was wash day and daddy did my hair in braids with beads at the end," he starts. Mark notices that his hair is currently in puffs around his head. "But Daniel and Toby saw it and said braids were for girls and said I was a girl, but I'm not a girl I'm a boy. Penny helped me take them out at recess, but then I Daniel said I looked like a dirty dog with my hair everywhere."

"I did not!"

"Daniel, it's not your turn to speak."

"He grabbed the scissors by the door when we were leaving and said he was gonna cut it so I'd look normal," Jim continues. "Penny called him um I don't remember it sounded funny though. Then he called her stupid and tried to get me with the scissors but she made him drop them."

"Penelope already told us what happened," Helly says. "So it's Daniel's turn now. Tell the truth please."

Daniel glances between his mom and his teacher. "He had these stupid pink and purple beads in his hair and it made him look like a stupid girl with his stupid long hair," he mumbles, shrinking a little under the weight of so many eyes. "And he's the only boy whose best friend is a girl it's super weird and he's got her cooties all over him," he wrinkles his nose. "And then his hair looked even more stupider like now. It looks like my dog. I only pretended to cut it. I didn't touch him. Penny used potty mouth words and pushed me."

"Penelope, did you push Daniel?" Helly asks, speaking before Mr. Milchick has the chance to. 

"No," she shakes her head vehemently. "All I did was take the scissors. Papa says never to hurt anyone unless they hurt you first." 

"Did you call him names?"

"Yeah! A lily-livered backmash," Penny supplies with a smile. Mark has to press a hand to his mouth to keep from laughing. 

"No you used a potty word!" Daniel insists. 

"A fucking lily-livered backmash!" Mark bites his tongue. 

"See!" 

"Settle down please." Helly holds up her hands and the children fall silent. She's got to be a fucking magician. 

"Thank you," Mr. Milchick stands up and smiles at the kids. "Would the three of you please return to the seats by Ms. Huang?"

Daniel leaves first followed shortly by Penny and Jim. 

"Is all this hubbub really necessary?" Mrs. Lewis asks. 

Mr. Milchick sits back down and turns his smile on the adults. "As I already said, the punishment for a first offense non-violent altercation is two days of in-school suspension. That hasn't changed."

"Dude, really?!" Dylan stands up. "You're going to sit here and tell me that this lady's little asswipe thought it was okay to threaten to cut my kid's hair and he's being punished for it? You heard all three of them, Jim didn't do anything."

"School policy dictates that all involved parties receive the same punishment."

"No." Dylan is firm. "Not to point out the obvious, but my kid is Black. You're Black, Mr. Milchick. I would hope you understand why making fun of my kid's hairstyle and then comparing him to a dog is inappropriate. Not to mention trying to cut it. If you punish my kid for this, I will be filing a complaint."

"Please sit down, Mr. George." His mouth presses into a thin line. "Considering the extenuating nature of the circumstances, I can, on this occasion, acquit young Jim of his involvement. Penelope and Daniel, however, will both be sitting in in-school suspension next Monday and Tuesday."

"Mr. Milchick," Mark speaks up. "Surely that's a bit extreme. Penelope may have used some inappropriate language, but she was standing up for her friend. You can't lock her up in the office all day for swearing one time. I will have a talk with her about using appropriate language while at school, but I will not agree to an in-school suspension." 

"Alternatively, you can opt for a two day standard suspension, but I would imagine with your line of work, Mr. Scout, that the in-school option is better."

"Absolutely not." Now Mark is standing. "My daughter will not be facing a suspension of any sort. Had she been violent, then this would be a different conversation, but that's not the case. What kind of message are you teaching these kids if bullying and standing up to a bully are treated the same way?"

Before Mr. Milchick responds, Helly speaks up again. "If I might recommend," she says, "I would suggest revoking Penny's recess privileges for two days. Is that a solution we can all agree on?"

Mark looks at her gratefully. "Yes." He sits back down. "That's a much more appropriate response for the infraction."

Mr. Milchick's nostrils flare, but he wrangled his expression to a cordial smile. "Make that three days, and we have ourselves a deal. Are we done here now? Or do you also have an argument for me, Mrs. Lewis?"

Daniel's mom lifts her hands in surrender and shakes her head. "No," she says. "He's been acting up recently, I think some time alone with his thoughts will do him well."

"Well in that case"—Mr. Milchick's stands and gestures them toward the door—"let's all get out of here."

Somehow, Mark is the last one out of the office, and he finds, to his amusement, that Penelope is already out front and excitedly chatting with Jim and Dylan. He takes a moment to watch her through the window as she glares at Daniel one more time then waves as Dylan and Jim slowly head toward their minivan. 

"Papa, can I go to Jim's house?" Penny asks almost as soon as he's outside the school. "Mr. Dylan says he's going to braid his hair again and that I can help with the beads."

Mark isn't surprised that she already has plans to play at the George's house less than a minute after getting out of the office. "As long as you do your homework," he says. "Do you want me to pick you up before or after dinner?"

"After! Bye, Papa." She wraps her arms around his knees in a quick hug and then she's off like a shot to Dylan's minivan. 

"Don't run in the parking lot!" He calls after her. 

"Sorry," she shouts over her shoulder. She disappears into the car and crawls into the spare booster seat Dylan keeps for occasions like this. 

Dylan looks back at Mark and shrugs in the universal parental gesture of what else can I do? Mark returns it and gestures at his phone to indicate he'll call later when he's on his way to pick her up. 

Without Penny to take home, he no longer has any plans for the evening. Vaguely, he thinks about stopping at gas station for a six pack on his way home, but if he's picking her up later, then he doesn't want any alcohol in his system. He's not much of a drinker these days anyway. He shrugs and starts trudging to his car, already settling on binge-watching whatever crap the history channel is playing. 

"Hey, wait up!" He hears a feminine voice call after him before he gets his door unlocked. 

"Yeah?" He turns to find Helly waving from two parking spaces over.  

"So we meet again, Mr. Scout," she smiles. "Or is it Dr. Scout?" She weaves toward him and leans against the car next to his. 

"Dr. Scout was my wife. I'm Professor Scout to my students, Mark to everyone else." He gets the question often enough, but it never fails to bring with it a dull ache in the chest when he thinks of the PhD program he had to defer indefinitely one semester from defending his dissertation. He had two Master's and a multitude of post-graduate certifications, but no doctorate. He and Gemma had a life plan. She did her doctoral program first while he worked full-time, then, once she graduated, she would work full-time and he would get his PhD. When she died, Mark went back to work, and, subsequently, his doctoral program went unfinished. 

"Nice to see you again, Professor." Helly wiggles her eyebrows at him for some fucking reason. Probably to give him a heart attack and send him to an early grave in an elaborate plan to kidnap Penelope. Joke's on her though, Devon is her de facto guardian if anything happens to him, and she's not as weak to pretty women as he is—which isn't saying much given how low the bar is. 

"Didn't know you were my student." He shakes off the dull pain of the past. "I've not gotten your essay on trench warfare yet. That was due Monday."

"It was?" She lifts a hand to her mouth in mock horror. "I'm so sorry Professor, I put it in my planner for next week. Can I please get an extension?"

He taps his chin in thought. "If I allow it, I expect only the highest quality work from you."

Her head bobbles up and down. "I'll write an extra page," she promises. "I won't let you down."

Mark isn't able to hold back a laugh any longer. "I'm sure you'd be a great history student," he tells her, "but I think you've found your calling already. You made that meeting go much smoother than it would have."

A rosy flush rises to her cheeks along with a shy smile. "Thank you," she says. "I try my best. Unfortunately, the school is an Eagan school which means it has some backward ass policies surrounding, well, everything."

He nods even though he's not entirely sure the significance of the name. Something to do with the town founder and a secretive biotech company. "Damn, you swear in the school parking lot?"

Her eyes widen. "Oh shit, sorry."

His lips curl into a grin that shows his top teeth. "I'm only teasing," he assures you. "I'm thankful, really. I'm not sure we would have had such a successful outcome had you not stepped in back there. I know that can be difficult, especially when you're new to a position."

Her cheeks redden further. "All I'm doing is looking out for the children's best interests. Punishing them equally would not have been appropriate given the situation. I don't want this tow- school teaching them not to stand up for themselves."

"Yeah," he sighs. "It's not the first time I've disagreed with the administration here. But it is the first time I've not resorted to pulling the clueless single father card. So thank you for that."

"You? Clueless?" She scoffs. "You clearly aren't clueless."

"I'm not?" He was joking, but the sincerity in her voice takes him aback. 

"Of course not," she shakes her head. "I've only met you twice, and I can already say you're a better dad than mine ever was. Er, uh, sorry that's not appropriate," she winces. 

He waves in dismissal. "Also in the shitty dad club, huh?" He chuckles. "The had a shitty dad kind, not the is one. Not that you're a dad. Unless..." Yeah okay, new evening plans unlocked, bury his head in the sand and never talk again.

Helly snorts and covers her mouth—unfortunate he thought it was cute. "You'll have to take that up with my cat," she tells him. "Both if I'm a dad and if I'm a shitty one."

"You have a cat?" He asks. It shouldn't surprise him, but it does somehow. 

"Yeah," she smiles. "She's solid white, blind, and screams from the second she feels the door close at night to the second it opens in the morning. I found her huddled under my car during a storm during my undergrad and smuggled her home."

Now that doesn't surprise him. "I've got two fish myself," he supplies without her asking. "Two bettas, a red one and a blue one. Pen named them Reddy and Bluey, you'll never guess who is who?"

"The blue one is Reddy?"

"Yeah, that's my little contrarian for you," he laughs. "I'd say I don't know where she got it from, but that's all me. You ever look at your kid and go, 'damn, that's me?' Wait no, of course you don't, you don't have a kid. Unless..." He's changed his mind he needs to bludgeon himself with a shovel. 

She snorts again and this time doesn't cover her mouth which gives him a great view of the way her nose wrinkles and her top teeth show. "Again, ask the cat," she tells him. 

Mark turns the key in the lock. “I should probably get going,” he says. “Otherwise I’m going to stick my foot in my mouth again and nobody wants to see that.”

“I do,” she says a little too eagerly. “Er, what I mean is it would be impressive if you could,” she backpedals. 

Pot meet fucking kettle. He really needs to get out of here. “I’ve got essays to grade.” He opens the door and lifts a foot into the car. 

Helly unlocks her own car with a press of a button. “Sorry, don’t let me hold you up.” She takes a few steps away and he should be relieved but now he can no longer make out the freckles on the bridge of her nose and that’s really quite tragic. 

“You aren’t.” He’s halfway in the car. 

She smiles at that. “Well in that case,” she laughs, “I do have a question.” 

He can’t think of anything it could possibly be. There’s no late library books, no missing assignments, oh god. “I already volunteered for the aquarium, what else?” He’s sure he sounds horrified because she covers her lovely smile again. 

“Nothing like that.” God her laugh is cute even when she’s covering it. He wonders what her face would look like if he caught her wrists and held her hands away from her expression—no, no he definitely doesn’t wonder that even a little nope. “I was wondering if you knew what that meant? What Penny said? Not the first part, I know lily-livered means cowardly.”

“Oh.” He relaxes and rubs the back of his neck. “She called him a cowardly scoundrel more or less,” he explains. “World War I slang. I teach a lesson on swearing and slang usage during war time usually around a holiday to entice my students into not skipping. You’re lucky in that regard actually, your kiddos are legally obligated to show. Anyway, sometimes Pen asks me to teach her a lesson at night instead of a bedtime story, so I regurgitate whatever the lecture of the day was.”

Helly’s expression softens into something he doesn’t quite recognize when directed at him. “That’s quite sweet,” she tells him. “The teaching her about history part, not the truancy thing. You definitely knew what I meant.”

“Yeah, I definitely did.” Now they’re both staring at each other. He’d probably stay there forever if his knee weren’t beginning to cramp at his position. “I should go,” he reiterates. “I have to prepare a ‘I’m not disappointed in you for standing up for your friend, but swearing at school isn’t appropriate’ lecture for my daughter.”

“Right, of course.” She’s got her car door open now. “See you around then.”

“Yeah, see you.”  He barely manages to stop himself from face planting against the steering wheel once the door is closed.