Work Text:
Hazel, Winn, and Jasmine sat around their usual lunch table at school, chatting excitedly about their upcoming weekend plans.
"Saturday, I’m hitting the skatepark with my older cousin Maya," Winn grinned, tapping a fork against their lunch tray. "And after that, we’re stopping by to visit Patty Possum."
Jasmine clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling. "Ooooh! Guess what I’m doing? Mom’s taking me to a karaoke bar! There’s a kids’ hour, and I get to sing three whole songs—and record them! I’ve been practicing every day after school. I’m still a bit off‑key on some of the songs, but Mom says the enthusiasm counts more than the notes."
"Mom's gonna be at a book convention, so my dad’s taking me camping! Well, kinda—it'll be inside our apartment, but it'll still be fun!" Hazel announced, shoving a handful of fries into her mouth.
All eyes then turned to Dev, who had been unusually quiet as he poked at his food.
"So, Dev," Hazel nudged him. "What are you doing this weekend?"
Dev hesitated, adjusting his sunglasses. Then, with careful nonchalance, he shrugged. "Visiting my mom."
Silence.
Hazel blinked. "Your… mom?"
Winn’s eyebrows shot up. "Wait. You have a mom? Dev, no offense but every single story about your family you told us has either been about your dad or grandpa. Not one thing about your mom."
Jasmine chimed in. "I just kind assumed your dad cloned you. Or bought you at a really fancy baby store."
"I’ve told you guys I have a mom. Her name's Veronica," Dev muttered, though truthfully, he hadn’t. Not once. Dale had always been the only parent mentioned—the one Dev kept trying (and failing) to impress. "She lives in the city. I go visit her every now and then."
"'Every now and then' implies it’s not a secret," Hazel observed. "But we’ve literally never heard you say her name."
Dev sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It’s… complicated. She and Dad aren’t together. They never were. They had a… business arrangement."
Jasmine's face scrunched up. "Ew, don’t phrase it like that."
"Not—ugh, not that kind!" Dev groaned. "They just made a deal when she got pregnant. She didn’t want to be a full-time mom, but she didn’t just disappear either. She checks in. Sends birthday cards. Lets me know if anything in her side of the family is genetically cursed."
He remembered the few times he’d tried to ask Dale about Veronica when he was younger. Dale would usually just wave a dismissive hand, mid-phone call. "Your mother, Dev? Ah, yes, Veronica. A… mutual acquaintance. A very practical arrangement, son. Ensures the Dimmadome legacy continues without… unnecessary romantic entanglements. Very efficient."
Dev often felt less like a son and more like a strategic acquisition. He was sure Dale loved him in his own distant, Dimmadome-empire-expanding way. Dev was the perfect heir, impeccably dressed, already showing a nascent talent for public speaking (as long as the speech was about the inherent superiority of Dimmadome products). But he was also a lonely boy who sometimes just wanted his dad to listen, truly listen, without glancing at his tablet for stock trades.
And then there was Veronica.
Dev’s first true memory of her was around age five when he was finally allowed to visit her home. It had been explained to him that he was going to visit his “other parent.” He’d been confused. Dale was his parent. Who was this “other” one?
Veronica wasn't grand. She certainly wasn't a walking advertisement for anything. She had long, blonde hair, usually tied back in a messy bun, and eyes that were a softer shade of blue than his own.
His first few visits were awkward. He was a Dimmadome, used to grand and riches. She seemed to exist in a different rhythm. But she listened. Really listened when he talked. And her home ended up feeling warmer and more personal than the sterile confines of his father’s world.
"So," Winn began, "what’s your mom like?"
Dev shrugged. "Normal, I guess? She's an interior decorator. Likes jazz. Has a cat."
Hazel leaned forward, her voice softening. "Is she nice?"
"Yeah," Dev said, quieter now.
With Dale, everything was about achievement, the next big thing. With Veronica, it was… just being.
That weekend, Dev found himself standing on the doorstep of Veronica’s sleek, modern apartment. She answered with a warm smile and a hug, something he wasn’t used to but hadn’t realized he missed until now.
Inside, the apartment smelled like lavender and cinnamon. Records played low—some old jazz tune—and the walls were alive with colors, textures, mismatched art. A cat named Miso wound around Dev’s legs, purring.
No neon signs. No giant Dimmadome memorabilia. Just calm.
Veronica handed him a plate once they settled at a small kitchen table to eat. "How’s school?" she asked, not as a formality, but like she genuinely wanted to know.
"Good. My friends just found out you exist."
Veronica laughed. "Well, that must’ve been a shock."
Later, they spent the evening playing board games, watching old movies, and talking—about hobbies and friends, and she even told him stories from her childhood.
She spoke of therapy, of learning to value herself beyond the glossy facades of popularity. "I used to think I needed to be seen, to be liked, to be...somebody else," she had said. "But then I realized that the only thing that truly matters is being genuine. That’s what I try to bring into every room I design, and maybe… into every relationship I have."
Before bed, Veronica handed him a small box.
"For your collection," she said, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.
Inside was a rare, limited-edition comic book—one he’d mentioned wanting once in an offhand comment months ago.
Dev grinned. "...You remembered."
Veronica’s smile widened slightly, warm and genuine. "Of course I did. I’m your mom."
Back at school on Monday, Hazel narrowed her eyes at him. "You’re different today."
Dev adjusted his backpack. "No, I’m not."
"Yes, you are," she insisted, grinning. "You even smiled at Jasmine’s singing."
Dev looked down, then back up, meeting her eyes—without sunglasses. "Maybe I just had a good weekend."