Work Text:
Tatiana knew the playland belonged to her: absolutely, completely, forever. The tunnels were her caves, the rope bridge was her mountain, and the slide was her rainbow.
Papa and Dada were very slow, but she loved them anyway. They were big. They were clumsy.
She scrambled up the slide the wrong way, because that was the fun way. Her hands slapped the plastic, her pigtails bounced, and behind her she heard Papa groan in Russian, which meant he was trying to follow her even though he was not very good at climbing.
Then Papa stopped moving.
She peeked over the top of the slide and saw his legs kicking. He looked like a big stuck bear. A very dramatic bear.
“Hi Papa,” she said, because she loved him and also because he looked funny.
“Tatiana, get down here,” Papa said in his serious voice. His accent got thicker when he was tired. “Nemédlenno, malen’kaya. Right now.”
She liked that voice. It made her feel powerful.
“No,” she said cheerfully, and she ran away across the rope bridge. The bridge shook under her feet, but she liked that too.
Papa made a noise behind her. “Wonderful. Papa abandoned in plastic labyrinth. This is how great hockey careers end. Not on ice, on slide.”
She popped her head out of a bubble window and saw Dada sitting at the table eating her fries. Dada always looked calm, like he knew everything. She waved at him. He waved back, like he was not watching his husband slowly perish in a children’s maze.
Papa crawled under her, huffing and puffing like a big tired wolf. “Tatiana, stop running. Tatiana, that is too high. Tatiana, you will make Papa sedoy, completely gray. I will look like old Soviet grandfather.”
She popped her head out again. “Papa, look. I am tall.”
Papa grabbed the netting like it was saving his life. “You are too tall. Get down. Nemédlenno.”
She giggled and ran again.
Papa kept chasing her, muttering in Russian and bumping into things. She could hear him getting grumpy, but she was not tired at all. She was fast. She was brave. She was the queen of the tunnels. Papa was… not.
Then she heard something new.
Dada’s voice.
But this time it was close. Inside the tunnels. Inside her world.
She turned and saw him crawling toward her, his shoulders hunched under the low ceiling, his face warm and steady even though the bridge wobbled under him. He looked brave. He looked like Dada always looked when he came to help.
“Dada, you climbing,” she said, delighted.
“I am,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “I am coming to get you and Papa.”
Papa groaned somewhere behind him. “Do not encourage her, solnyshko. She will climb to ceiling next. She will join circus. She will abandon Papa.”
Tatiana giggled and scrambled higher, because Papa was funny when he panicked.
But Dada kept coming. Slow. Careful. Strong. Like a hero in a movie. A very tall, very cramped hero.
When he reached the platform beneath her, he looked up at her with that calm Dada face. He did not yell. He did not sound grumpy. He just said her name in a way that made the whole playground go quiet.
“Tatiana Grace Rozanov Hollander. Dada needs you to come to me. Now.”
Her whole body froze. Her hands stopped moving. Her foot hung in the air. Dada used her full name.
Inside the tunnels.
Inside her kingdom. That meant she had to listen.
She climbed down carefully, her little hands gripping the plastic. When she reached him, he scooped her up and kissed her forehead. She liked when Dada said she did good listening.
Papa crawled out of a tunnel looking like he had fought a monster. His hair was messy, and his shirt was sideways.
She reached for him because she loved him even when he was silly.
“Papa, you silly,” she told him, patting his cheek.
Papa groaned but hugged her tight. “You will be end of me, solnyshko. Papa is Olympic athlete. Papa is champion. Papa cannot outmaneuver toddler with chicken nugget.”
She did not know what that meant, but she knew it meant he loved her.
She held out her chicken nugget. “Papa, bite.”
Papa took it like it was treasure. “Spasibo, my brave girl. Papa survives another day.”
Dada laughed softly. Papa kissed her cheek again.
And when they crawled out of the maze together, she knew something else about her universe.
The playland belonged to her.
But Papa and Dada belonged to her too.
And Papa, mighty hockey warrior, mighty skater, mighty champion?
He would never, never win against her in the tunnels.