Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Charlie~!" calls Angie. "Snack time~!"

""'s'not here!"" answers the front closet.

"That's too bad," she sighs. "I'll just have to eat his Vegemite-on-toast myself." She tucks her hands in her pockets and strolls—

""But ye hate the stuff,"" says the closet.

"Hmm." Angie rocks on her toes. "You're right." Ponders. "Ye know, Kristin likes Vegemite—snacktime's oh-so convenient when she babysits. I could give it to her, couldn't I?"

The closet squeaks.

"I'll be in the kitchen with Kristin's toast." Angie pads away and through the kitchen to the backdoor, leans outside—"Hey, Kristin! Toast?"—then retrieves a jar from the cupboard, mentally counting down from ten.

On cue, ginger hair and blue eyes peek over the kitchen table. "Are you really gonna give my toast to Kristin?"

"Not now that you're here to eat it, sweetheart." She sets a plate down in front of him.

Charlie exhales and focuses all of his attention on the warm bread.

Angie smiles and ruffles his hair. "But only if I get a kiss before you dig in." She settles into a chair, scoops him up, and plops him on her lap.

Charlie squirms, only to maintain appearances, but presses a soft kiss to her cheek.

She pecks him back, then reaches around him to fix Charlie's snack.

Charlie tucks his head under her chin.

Angie nuzzles his crown, coats a slice with marmalade for herself.

They munch contently.

Well, Angie munches; Charlie—

"Remember to chew."

"m' am fwewin," replies Charlie, spraying crumbs.

"Chew slower, then, sweetie. I don't want you choking."

Charlie rolls his eyes, but—with clear effort—gnaws daintily on the final slice of Vegemite-on-toast.

Angie brushes crumbs from his chin and shirt. "Time for homework, Bear."

"Aww ...."

"The sooner you finish, the sooner you can play video games."

Charlie considers this, brow furrowed.

Angie fights a laugh.

The brows furrow further. "What?"

"You look just like your dad when you make that face."

Charlie brightens—

"And he always did his homework.

—sighs mightily and slouches off for the hall.

Angie chuckles, gets to clearing the table.

Charlie drags over his backpack and digs out his workbook, and, with a melodramatic flourish, throws himself into a chair.

Angie's mobile trills.

She picks it up, smiles at the newly-arrived email.

Workbook paper opens onto the next page.

"Who is it?" asks Charlie.

"It's your dad."

The homeworking stops and Charlie leans closer. "Can I see?"

"Su—" Angie bites her lip, remembering that one 'naughty' message, then clears her throat. "After you finish."

"But—"

She kisses his temple. "No 'but's. At the rate you're going, you'll be done in no time."

Charlie sulks, but picks up his pencil and digs back in.

Angie smiles, retreats to her bedroom, pushing the door mostly closed behind. She gets herself comfy up against the headboard, legs crossed, and taps through to the video file Herc'd attached.

""Hey, Angie! Sorry! 's a bit windy! Lemme just ....""

There's a scuffle from the speaker, the picture blurs for a second or two, and then the background noise drops.

""This's better. How're you holding up? Anklebiter driving you crazy yet?"" Herc glances over his shoulder. ""Hope he didn't spend too much time hiding today."" Shakes his head. ""Wish I didn't have to be away. I miss both of ye so much already."" Sighs. ""How'd that meeting—""

""Hansen! Drop the mobile and get back to work!""

Angie rolls her eyes and smiles.

Herc cringes and what's left of his freckles vanish in a blush. "Sorry. Gotta go. I'll get to a VTC soon as I can schedule it. Love ye!" Herc kisses his fingertips and presses them to the camera.

The video cuts off.

Angie smiles, rubs her eyes with the back of her hand, then she takes a deep breath and starts her mobile's recorder.

"It's so good to hear from you, honey! We're fine—missing you, but fine. Charlie only spent ten minutes in the front closet after school, so he's getting better. I did have to tempt him out with that awful stuff again, though. Must be genetic." A smile. "The meeting went well, but they still want me to move to the Sydney office. I keep saying 'no', but ...." She shakes her head. "Seems like you've been gone longer than a week. And I recognize your CO's tone; you've been up to not-so-good late—"

A yelp—

CRASH

—and frantic scuffling from the front room.

"—like your son is right now. Gotta go! Be safe! Love ye!" Angie kisses her fingertips and presses them to the camera. She thumbs the recorder off and tucks the phone away.

Scuffling continues.

"What's happening out there?" she calls, heading straight for the ruckus.

""Nothing!"" squeaks Charlie.

Angie snorts, then spots the dirt spilling into the hallway. "Go get the broom, Bear," she calls.

A meep and little feet pad in the direction of the mudroom.

Angie sighs, shakes her head fondly, and surveys the damage to Roscoe the family palm.