Chapter Text
Just like most of the really strange things that happen at Walter Manor, it all started with a case of hiccups.
Or rather, two cases.
Somehow, The Jon and Hatchworth had never before gotten a case of the hiccups at the same time, and the rest of the household prayed that it would never ever happen again. Because it led to possibly one of the strangest situations the manor had ever faced.
Robots shouldn’t even be able to hiccup, but then they shouldn’t be run by a portal and a void directly tied to the very fabric of reality either. When The Jon and Hatchworth hiccupped at the same time, everyone held their breath because they could almost see the ripples as they made their way through reality. There was a pause and everyone let out a sigh of relief when it appeared nothing had changed.
The Jon looked around himself, under the couch cushions, behind the couch, then settled back down with a sigh. “Nothing changed. Good, that could have been *HIC* bad.”
Rabbit nodded. “Y-Y-yeah, was a bit scared for a sec there but it looks like— “
There was a soft thump, then the sound of shattering and everyone froze. A small voice muttered “oops” out in the hall, and they all exchanged looks because it wasn’t a voice any of them recognized.
They all watched the doorway, expecting a head to peer around the corner — and one did. But it was shorter and rounder than anyone expected, and only about eleven years old.
“I s-s-swear I di’n mean to!”
He was human, mostly, but there were copper vents on his pale peach cheeks and a metal arrow accenting his nose, and his eyes, while human, were mismatched blue and green, reminding everyone of Rabbit. The overall shape of his face, his eyes, his poofy hair all instead conjoured a likeness to Michael. There was a collective blink of confusion.
“An it was K-kinda his fault too, anyways!” He insisted, glancing off to the side.
Another head appeared slowly and nervously around the doorframe, this one entirely metal and very very closely resembling none other than a child version of The Spine.
Hatchworth hiccupped quietly; somewhere a bowl of petunias came into existence and immediately regretted it.
“It really W-w-was’a accident…”
The kid muttered as he shuffled into the room, giving them all a better look at him. The rest of him was an even more hodge-podge mix of robot and human. The blue glow of a core shining just visible over the edge of his tophidden further by a pair of goggles dangling from his neck. His neck and one arm were robotic copper while the other was pale and human. He played nervously with the hem of his purple tanktop, eyes downcast and shifting nervously from one foot to the other looking nervous and guilty.
As they stared, The Jon was first to speak, quietly muttering, “Uh oh…” as he pulled a pillow from behind him to hide under.
There was a general wave of confused murmurs.
“Is that…”
“Are those…”
“Kids?”
“Dude.”
The boy watched them, his nervous frown becoming a pout until he finally spoke up, “I’m RIGHT HERE ya know!” crossing his arms and giving a huff of steam.
Sam sputtered, “Yes, we noticed! Who are you?! Where did you come from?! Where are your parents?!”
The boy looked mildly hurt but drew himself up as straight as he could “I’M Rabel! And I came from him!” He pointed at The Jon who tried to fit more of himself behind the pillow. “An’ my parents are r-right there, duh!” he pointed out Rabbit and Michael as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. They both choked, Rabbit gaping in disbelief while Michael was caught somewhere between elation over parenthood and complete confusion over the circumstances. All he could manage to get out was, “Heh. Dude, he’s got your stutter.”
Rabel’s bravado vanished instantly. “Only a little…” He pouted.
Michael was across the room in an instant, wrapping the half-bot in a hug.
“Aawww, come on, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s cute! You’re just…A bit of a shock is all.”
Rabel didn’t look up at first, staring instead at his feet. Finally he turned his mismatched eyes up to Michael’s and smiled back, arms coming up to return the hug happily.
“Hey where’d the other one go?” Steve asked, craning his neck and leaning over the couch arm to try and see farther into the hall.
The Jon hiccuped behind him; all the apples in the kitchen spontaneously became oranges.
Rabel untangled himself from his ‘father’s’ grip and back-stepped into the hall. “Oh he’s just shy! Com’on! Ya gotta come out so’s they can meet you too!”
Somewhere in the hallway, there was a sharp clomp on the floor and then silence. Rabel threw his head back and sighed dramatically. He disappeared into the hallway and after a short scuffle with plenty more stomping and clomping, Rabel reappeared, dragging along a very unwilling miniature Spine — though the bot’s resemblance to his titanium ‘father’ seemed to disappear right at the waist. Instead of two normal, albeit metal legs, the group found themselves staring at four very horse-like robotic ones. The picture was completed by a dark, spine-shaped tail curled indignantly between the little bot’s hind legs.
“Dude.” Said Michael, again, as eloquent as always.
Now forced into the open the miniature Spine-taur looked anxiously around before attempting, unsuccessfully, to hide behind Rabel who simply rolled his eyes. He circled back behind the equine bot and shoved him forward a step
“Ya gotta tell ‘em your name too, silly!”
The Spine-taur frowned and shook his head, snorting a little.
“Well, do ya hava name? ‘Cause I gots no idea what it is.” Rabel propped his head against his wrist, elbow on the bot’s flank.
The yet-to-be-named robot stamped a glowing hoof twice on the floor, the sound echoing around the room. He pouted, almost scowling, at the wide-eye gazes from the seven adults in the room.
“Um. Does he talk?” Steve piped up, his curiosity overcoming the weirdness of the situation.
“Well how would I know?!” Rabel shrugged.
Steve blinked. Well, the kid had him there.
“Hows’ about Junior? Ya like that? Can we calls ya Junior?”
The pouting bot paused and then slowly nodded, gazing up at The Spine. He tilted his head at his father-figure, then took a quick step forward, sending Rabel sprawling on the floor. ‘Junior’ took this opportunity to dart over and cling to The Spine’s legs, hiding his little titanium face in the dark fabric of the larger robot’s trousers.
Rabel indignantly brushed himself off. “Jeeze, thanks,” he grumbled in the retreating bot’s direction. Michael was already lending a hand.
The Spine clumsily pried his leg free to kneel next to Junior, giving him an encouraging smile. “Hey now, you’re okay, chief.” He pouted, hiding his face in The Spines vest; he wrapped an arm around the smaller bot and patted his back reassuringly.
Hatchworth and The Jon hiccuped in unison again, another ripple passing through reality and Steve felt a weight suddenly materialize on the open part of the couch between him and The Jon. Steve closed his eyes, not exactly sure he wanted to turn, but he did anyway. Another child, this one tiny, barely older than a toddler stared up at Steve with wide blue eyes. He briefly turned to The Jon, then resolutely sat facing forward again, clutching a familiar crocheted plush to his chest.
Lil’ Steve looked somewhere between amused and completely befuddled, or at least as much as his cloth face was able to show. “I was taking a nap six seconds ago and have no idea how I got here,” he announced as the boy hugged him harder and tugged the bandanna from his curly haired head over his eyes as if trying to hide, much like the Art Deco robot to his side.
For the most part his appearance was human, skin the same tone as Steve’s but eyes just a little too bright to be natural and skin marked with black tattoo-like lines in a manner not unlike The Jon’s plate design. His hair was the same dark brown as Steve’s but a bouncy curly mess just like The Jon’s. This day just kept getting stranger.
“Uhh, okay. Who are you?” Steve questioned, leaning forward in an attempt to catch the boy’s eyes.
He peeked out from under the too big bandana. “…’m Jeeves…” he muttered.
Steve exchanged a glance with The Jon and sighed as he slid off the couch to kneel in front of Jeeves.
Rabel snorted a laugh, earning a quick buffet over the head from Michael. Rabbit just bit back a chuckle, finally coming out of his stupor. Rabel shot a quick triumphant grin in the copper bot’s direction.
“I kinda can guess but, who are your parents?” Steve asked, putting a hand gently on Jeeves’ shoulder.
Jeeves didn’t respond, sliding the bandana back to its proper place on his head and looking between him and The Jon.
“MY money’s on you an’ Goldie,” Lil Steve grumbled, wriggling in the tight grip till he’d worked himself free. The boy pouted and wriggled into The Jon’s lap, scooching under his arm until The Jon’s hiding pillow fell to the floor. Jeeves smiled as he was pulled into a hug and cradled against The Jon’s chest.
Lil’ Steve cackled, jutting a crocheted arm at Steve’s face. “You got a kid, With him!”
Steve batted the toy so it fell back on the couch. “Be nice or I shut you in the dresser again.”
Lil’ Steve glared at his larger counterpart and decided to wisely sit quiet.
Hatchworth, silent until now, simulated clearing his throat. “Well. I’m sure these children are hungry.” To Hatchworth, everyone was always hungry, especially children.
Rabel grabbed Michael’s hand and pulled him, knowing instantly which way the kitchen was. Sam gazed from one improbable child to the next and rubbed his face with a weary sigh.
“At least that’s it?” he questioned hopefully, Hatchworth shrugged.
The others mumbled and nodded their agreements as they made their way to the kitchen. The Jon stood up, shifting Jeeves onto his hip, but the child started squirming, arms stretched towards Steve.
“Papa! Cawwy me!” Li’l Steve snickered and Rabbit grinned slyly. The sound engineer stared blankly until Jeeves repeated his demand a little louder and much shrill. The Jon cracked a grin and held him out at arm’s length until Steve hesitantly accepted the wriggling bundle.
“WAIT!” Jeeves shrieked and Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. He had just picked the kid up, what could he have possibly done wrong already?! “Where’s Wi’w Steebe?!”
Li’l Steve sighed, hopped from the couch, and shimmied up Steve’s pants leg into the waiting arms of Jeeves. This time it was Steve’s turn to laugh.
Seven adults and three improbable, impossible children crowded in the kitchen as Sam and Hatchworth made sandwiches and distributed cups of juice. The Jon found a phone book for Jeeves to sit on. (“Why do we even have one of those?” muttered Michael.) Rabbit found himself sitting next to Rabel, who was swinging his legs as he animatedly discussed all his favorite snacks. The Spine was left trying to figure out just how the heck you wrestle a four-legged child into a chair, but Junior seemed content enough to stand next to the table instead, though never far from The Spine.
Everyone seemed to be making the best out the awkward situation and the chatter had even settled to something resembling comfortable when The Jon and Hatchworth again hiccupped in unison.
A fourth child was suddenly sitting at the table across from Rabbit and Rabel, calmly eating a sandwich that had appeared with him The orange hair, peachy skin, and bronze cheek plates clearly pointed towards the “parents” in this case, a trickle of steam curling from the small stove pipe on his bowler hat.
Everyone stared at the newcomer, who paused to shrug. “Yeah, I don’t get it either.” He took another bite of his sandwich.
“Um,” Sam began hoarsely.
“Ham.”
“Wha—”
“That’s my name.”
Hatchworth wiped his face with a dishcloth and released a gentle puff of steam. He folded his hands and smiled. “Well! Hello, Ham.”
The child now called Ham waved a hand. “Hey dad.” Sam looked paler than usual. “And other dad,” he added, waving to Sam.
Rabel sat up and started laughing, only to get a disapproving look from Michael.
Deciding to change tactics, he turned his mismatched eyes up at Rabbit.
“Pappy! Can I h-have some ice creams?”
Rabbit gasped, his photoreceptors growing wide. The Spine groaned. So did Junior.
“A-a-a-a’ course ya can!” At this moment, Rabbit would have lifted a whole ice cream van to this kid. And Rabel knew it.
“Nah uh. You can’t have sugar,” Ham declared with more authority than an eleven-year-old should have. “You’re hyperactive.”
It’s hard to tell who was more crestfallen, Rabbit or Rabel.
“B-b-but Pappyyyyyy!” Oh yes, he already knew too emphasize that stutter. Rabbit glanced at Michael.
“Hey, don’t look at me!” Michael lifted his hands, taking a step back.
“You’re not allowed!” Ham asserted, crossing his arms.
Rabel shot a glare at him, sticking out his tongue. “Aw shaddup, Easy Bake!”
On the other side of the table, Jeeves laid his head on his arms and looked at Lil Steve, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Hewe dey go again.” he muttered.
Junior snorted and nodded his agreement.
Ham’s stovepipe whistled angrily and he stood up, hands flat on the table. “You first, Copperbutt!”
“Make me!”
“BOYS.” The Spine’s booming voice instantly ended that argument and both boys sunk back into their chairs with hunched shoulders. The Spine sighed.
There was one final hiccup from Hatchworth and the oranges turned into lemons and promptly exploded, sending lemonade spraying over the kitchen.
The children cheered. The adults groaned. Li’l Steve called for an encore.