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Maple sits quietly at the dinner table.
Her fingers dancing across the wooden frame, tracing the crevices in a rhythmical pattern, seeking comfort in the repeated motion.
Beau across from her, rambles on about his eventful day at Uncle Doc’s house.
“And then, Sunny killed all the bugs in front of Uncle Doc, he was so mad,” Beau exclaims as his hands flail around in the air, showing the vivid imagery of the insects getting squashed.
“That’s great,” Dad scrambles, quickly placing the sandwiches onto plates. Maple watches as he slides the first one to Beau and the next to her.
Her eyes connect with her dads to see his eyes crinkle above his mask; she sinks further into her seat despite him trying to comfort her.
Her dad’s scent is filled with stress, she automatically goes to scrunch her nose, shaking her head a bit at Beau’s continuous talking.
Maple analyzes the sandwich her dad gave her. Toasty bread with a display of chicken, tomato, cheese, and lettuce added in between. The smell makes her stomach rumble despite not being hungry.
Her gaze locks on her parents bedroom door, which is shut tight.
She is desperate to run inside and lay in their bed, tucked safely between the mixture of her parents' smells and blankets. The need for her parents’ nest is itching on her skin.
Her body feels uncomfortable by her dads distressed scent, yet Beau isn’t reacting. Her lip twitches in annoyance as she sighs at her brother’s habits. She doesn’t understand his ability to be distracted.
Older? Wiser? She snorts. Yeah right.
Maple's eyes are brought back to the present when dad stands at the edge of the table, catching their attention by clearing his throat.
He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. He shifts his weight as he inhales.
“Mom is tired today,” Dad states, his eyes flickering between her and Beau. “So, we are gonna let him rest up.”
“Don’t lie, Dad. Mom has a fever,” Beau corrects, shoveling food down his throat. Maple rolls her eyes, picking at the bread.
“Dad obviously just didn’t want to worry us, Beau,” Maple huffs, tilting her head in exasperation at her brother.
“There’s no need to lie,” Beau bites, throwing his hands up at his sister’s defensive nature.
“Well, there’s no need to be mean about it,” Maple snaps back, looking back down at her sandwich.
“Oh, mwah, mwah,” Beau sticks his tongue out at her, teasing her despite Maple’s growling.
“Okay, enough! Mom has a cold, yes,” dad sighs, ending the argument as he rubs the bridge of his nose just above his mask. His eyes glare at Beau, accusatory. “Did you wash your hands?”
Beau groans, hopping off of the chair and storming into their bathroom.
Maple watches as her dad sighs, sitting down, he inhales deeply, his scent slowly returning to normal. The smell of oak filling her senses.
“Hey, baby, how was your day? Did you have fun with Ember?” Etho whispers, his tone delicate and placed particularly. Maple’s eyes travel over him before back to her sandwich.
“It was fun…” she says, her fingers tracing the place gently. “Uncle Tango and I talked about space…”
“Oh, I know you love Uncle Tango,” Etho smiles, taking a bite of his food.
Maple nods, she feels his eyes on her hands. The smell of his worry fills the room once again.
She opens her mouth to continue but stops when Beau rushes back in, instantly overwhelming the energy in the kitchen. Her jaw clamps shut immediately.
She simmers back down as Beau distracts her dad, going back to his previous story. She swallows her sandwich, despite her awkward chewing.
Later in the evening, Maple quietly slides into her sheets. The blanket decorated with stars protects her from the cold air like a shield.
Maple’s eyes turn to the left of her, to Beau’s side of the room, watching as he rips his blankets off. He’s complaining about the heat, curling into his pillows instead.
The blanket hit the floor. Dad bends down and picks them up, folding them with care as he places the fabric on top of Beau’s dresser.
Maple watches as he kisses Beau’s head before walking over to her side of the room.
“Goodnight,” Dad exhales, placing his lips on her forehead. When he pulls back, Maple goes to reach out, but his back is already to her.
She sits up as he leaves, quietly shutting the door behind him, leaving only the night-light to design him in her head.
She whines, falling flat on her back, her eyes staring up at the ceiling, already listening to the sounds of Beau’s snoring.
She tosses and turns for hours, her bed is too cold despite the thick blankets that now lay on top of her.
Maple decides that she can’t lay in bed anymore, she needs to get up to see her mama and dad.
Quietly, she lifts her sheets and rises out of bed, planting her small feet onto the feathery carpet, slipping on her frog slippers.
Mama always says that Beau sleeps like he’s dead. Maple cannot understand how he does that. She blinks at him, wishing he’d wake up, maybe he’d want to lay with her.
She quickly decides against that.
Maple gently opens the door to the hallway, poking her head out. The hallway light peers into their shared bedroom. Her eyes dash back and forth, before stepping out into the open space and shutting the door behind her.
The walls are decorated with pictures that flood her brain with stories. Birthday parties, holiday’s, and summer events all overwhelm her with nostalgia. Her eyes exploring each picture in the frames.
Some of these, she wasn’t there for, pictures that were before her time, or, as dad likes to say, “before you were in my arms” and kisses her face. It makes her stomach squeeze.
Maple wants to be involved, she just can’t bring herself to speak out. Whenever she has the opportunity, her throat feels dry compared to Beau’s loud demeanor.
She gets along easily with her uncles and aunts, talking to them alone is much easier then when there’s other kids there.
All of them make her feel embarrassed. They have so much more energy. Maple feels like she loses her voice when she tries to relate to her friends.
Ember, Maple’s closest friend, is so talented. Her skills in science all come from Uncle Tango.
Maple loves to hear about it. Her eyes sparkle and dance around redstone, yet, when she wants to ask her dad to teach her, her voice disappears.
She sighs, her throat closing again, her stomach feels bubbly. She shakes her head, placing her feet on the steps that head downstairs.
Maple ties a knot into her shirt, so she doesn’t trip as she walks, considering her dad’s shirt lands at her ankles.
She creeps on the corners, one foot after the other, holding onto the railing as she descends. She pushes her hair back as she steps down into the living room.
Maple’s eyes land on her parents bedroom, the door which is normally open at night, is still locked shut.
She walks up to the entrance, ready to knock as her fist raises.
She hears the quiet breathing and her body freezes. Her mom and dad both sleeping soundly, their scents seeping under the door with peace and tranquility during the late night.
Her hand falls back to her side. She exhales. She doesn’t want to wake them. Especially if mama is sick, the last thing Maple wants is to cause more pain for mama.
Her eyes travel around their living room. She’s always found comfort in her home. The playful bickering between her parents always made her giggle.
She can practically see them in the kitchen, playfully arguing over where they want to eat for dinner or who’s gonna cook. By the time they both actually make a decision, they are blushing and laughing.
They love each other so much. It makes her cringe sometimes. Beau likes to dramatically gag when their parents kiss but Maple chooses to ignore his exaggerated habits.
Maple bites back a whimper, wanting to cuddle, their nest calling out to her. She should go back to bed but when her eyes land on the front door and she knows exactly where she’s going.
Something about Maple that her parents frequently fret over is her ability to sneak anywhere.
She was quiet like Etho. Her eyes are sharp and focused at all times, ready to watch more than experience.
Quiet as a cat and often found peering over your shoulder before she got the chance to announce herself; that’s usually how Maple appeared in conversations.
So, when she finds herself sneaking into Uncle Skizz’s house, she knows her parents will be upset tomorrow, but not surprised.
She bends down and grabs the key from Skizz’s hidden pot, quickly unlocking the front door.
As soon as she walks to his bedroom, the omega’s scent of vanilla fills her nose, she’s instantly soothed, causing tears to brim in the corner of her eyes.
She wiggles open the door to Skizz’s bedroom. Within seconds, Uncle Skizz gasps awake from the now light from the hallway dancing its way into the room, his scent skyrocketing to stress.
Maple watches as his eyes dart around, turning on his bedroom lamp quickly. His scent changes from stress to worry as soon as he lands on her.
Her tiny frame stood at the door silently with tears. Her dad’s shirt must have come undone as she ran over here, planting back at her ankles. Her frog slippers are dirty from taking them outside. Her hair is a mixture of knots and curls.
“Maple?” Skizz barely stammers out, instantly rising to his feet and walking over, dropping to her height.
His arms wrap around her body, pulling her safely into his chest. Maple feels the sobs erupt from her throat before she can control them.
“Hey, hey,” Skizz soothes, gently pulling her up into the air to hold her. “It’s okay, pumpkin.”
Her arms wrap around his neck, the tears falling down her face as she weeps.
Her body is shaking with the overwhelming emotions she’s feeling. She feels Uncle Skizz’s hand rub the back of her neck, his soothing touches traveling up and down her back.
Slowly, she regains some sense of control over her autonomy. She lets out the remaining trembles and gasps as he sits down, keeping her safe in his lap.
“It’s late, pumpkin. It’s three in the morning… That’s half of how old you are,” Skizz teases, his tone playful despite his scent of worry. “You want to tell Uncle Skizz what’s wrong?”
Maple bites her lip, mindlessly playing with Skizz’s fingers, after a few seconds of silence, she opens her mouth.
“Dad likes Beau more than me…” Maple whispers. Her voice is raspy and exhausted. Her eyes travel up to Skizz’s face, who’s looking at her with a mixture of shock and confusion.
“That is not true,” Skizz empathizes. “Your dad loves you so much, it physically is felt around the world,” Skizz says, dramatically expanding his hands to their full potential before wrapping his arms back around her.
“No, it’s not,” Maple goes to bare her teeth, in an attempt to remain face, but Skizz thumb travels over her jaw, she feels him push down her upper lip, closing her mouth.
“Pumpkin… why do you think your dad likes Beau more than you?” Skizz questions, ignoring her defensive trait.
“Because he’s so gentle with me,” Maple says, tears brimming in her eyes. “He listens to Beau talk and talk. But, when I talk it’s quieter!”
“Oh, pumpkin,” Skizz coos. She feels his lips on her forehead and instantly is soothed. The comforting scent of vanilla filling the air as she settles down in his lap once again. “Beau just loves to talk… Your dad does not love Beau more because of that.”
“But, why can’t I talk more?” Maple cries, exclaiming her issues.
Skizz tilts his head, “You can talk more, pumpkin."
“But… Dad’s voice is always so gentle with me…” Maple whimpers, her eyes sad and distant as she nuzzles into her uncle's hold.
Skizz stays silent for a minute. She looks up at him and sees as if he’s thinking. He inhales before he looks down into her eyes. “Can I tell you a secret?” Skizz whispers.
Maple wipes her eyes, nodding. Curiosity getting the best of her even in her distressed state.
“You and your dad are so similar… That’s why he’s so gentle. He wants you to become braver and stronger than he is.”
“Really?” Maple questions, her eyes distrusting but hope laced in her expression.
“Mhm!” Skizz nods, a big smile on his face before Maple feels more kisses on her head. “You look like him, you talk and act just like him… He loves you so much, pumpkin. Not just because you are a mini him, but because you are his little pumpkin too.” Skizz chuckles, poking her nose gently, causing Maple to giggle.
Skizz hums, continuing to comfort her through her laughter. “Beau just has so much energy and he doesn’t know how else to show it besides talking. He’s like your mama,” Skizz sympathizes, rubbing her neck gently.
Maple gasps, giggling as her tears dry on her face. “Nu-uh! Mama isn’t like Beau.”
Skizz snorts, smiling ear-to-ear even in his exhausted state. “He is, they both don’t stop talking! When you get older, you’ll see,” Skizz teases, tickling at her sides, she squeals, her scent erupting with the mixture of her parents’ once again, bright and happy.
Uncle Skizz’s eyes soften as he inhales. Maple realizes that her scent must bring him comfort the same way his does for her.
Skizz stretches, picking her up as he rises to his feet. “How about we head back home now? You can go to your parents, I’m sure you want mama and dad,” Skizz suggests, rubbing her back.
Maple nods, quickly nuzzling her face into her Uncle Skizz’s neck, inhaling his scent before she hears the front door close behind her.
When Skizz steps up to the porch of her home, Maple’s eyes widen in surprise. She can hear tons of confusion and all the lights are on. She smells mama and dad scents dosed with worry and stress.
Skizz quickly knocks, covering Maple’s ears. “I got her!” He exclaims.
Within seconds, the door is ripping open to a panting Bdubs, who scoops Maple into his arms, growling at the other omega who was previously holding her. Her dad is just as quick to defend her.
Uncle Skizz raises his hands immediately, tilting his head and bearing his neck as he steps back. “She snuck out and came over… She’s quite the handful,” Skizz laughs tightly, trying to not get attacked.
“Hi…” Maple whispers, and instantly, the tension is soothed, her mama is crying, kissing all over Maple’s face causing squeals.
Maple watches as her mama turns away quickly, coughing, before Maple is moved to his scent gland. Maple’s body instantly relaxes, held safely in her mama’s tight grip.
She doesn’t hear what Uncle Skizz says to her parents, but suddenly, she’s in her dad’s arms, who’s growling lightly, the smell of his protection overwhelming her nose. His scent of oak covers all her senses instantly.
Etho steps away from Skizz and mama into another room. The footsteps quiet, just like hers, as he shuts the door behind him.
“Hey,” Maple hears her dad say, shifting her head up to look at him. His eyes are fiercely loving and protective. He lowers his mask so she can see his lips, something he doesn’t do often. “I love you . I do not have a favorite child.”
“But… you listen to him talk more,” Maple whimpers, her scent embarrassed and tears trace the corners of her eyes.
“Beau might talk more than you, so yes, naturally I do listen to him talk more,” Etho admits, kissing her tears away. When her eyes open, Maple is surprised by the pride all over his expression. “But, you are braver. You are so smart… I’m so proud of you for going to someone when you felt like you needed to.”
“Really?” Maple whispers, her eyes slowly regaining vision as she wipes her final tears away.
“Really,” Etho confirms. “I love you both equally, just because you have different personalities, doesn’t mean I love you any less,” Etho whispers, kissing her forehead. She hears a shaky exhale from his mouth as she slowly starts to be rocked.
“But… you shut the bedroom door. You never do that!” Maple exclaims. Her brown eyes wide with sadness. Etho’s expression falls, realization overtakes his face as he bites his lower lip.
“I’m sorry… Mama being sick made me worry. I shut the door because I didn’t want you to get sick… But, she held you anyways,” Dad shakes his head, smiling gently.
“Oh…” Maple breathes. Her voice is weak as she looks back up into his loving gaze. “So, you aren’t mad at me?”
“Never,” Etho mumbles, kissing her cheek. “I’ll keep the door open, next time one of us has a little cold,” Etho promises.
Maple nods, her chest warms, she relaxes into her dads hold. Maple’s natural scent, the mixture between her dad and her mama, rises back to its standard level. Her dad’s muscles ease within seconds of her happiness coming back to life.
“Oh, and Maple,” Etho adds, kissing her cheeks once again, despite his extremely firm tone. “We will be getting you to talk more, don’t worry.”
Maple doesn’t reply for a second, her eyes wander over his face, landing on his scar.
His scar is something he frequently hides, especially from Beau and her. She never understood why. She always found it beautiful, just like her dad.
After thinking for a second, Maple comes to the conclusion that's why he wants her to talk more. It’s a part of her that she's nervous about and that’s why he wants to increase her to do it.
Maple connects her eyes with her dad and smiles before nuzzling into his scent gland. “Okay, dad, I will.”
Once things settle down, Uncle Skizz heads home, kissing her head prior to leaving. Mama brings Maple into bed with them. The former scents of worry are now replaced with contentment.
Maple falls asleep that night safely tucked between both of her parents in their nest. The mixture of their scent brings her to dream with ease.
The next morning, Maple does wake up with a little sniffle, but the stuffy nose is worth the thousands of kisses from her parents last night.