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It's a nice, warm day out in the park. The sun is shining, laughter is bubbling in the air; the grass is actually being watered and is greener than they've ever known, there are actual trees around, they've had no regrets moving here. And, on the edge of the playground, a long-time friend group is huddled around a bench, reminiscing on the past.
"I still can't believe you saved the world twice when you were, what, eleven?" Phred says, leaning lazily against the arm rest with his legs crossed.
"Ugh, will you quit reminding me," Phil groans. "It's not like you say that every time we meet up. I get it, it's impressive, but I'd much rather forget about--"
"Daaad," a voice whines. A small yellow child trots up to them, black eyes sparkling. "I'm bored."
Phil wrinkles his nose, glancing over at the boy. He plucks a stick off the ground, tosses it—"Go fetch."—and watches amusedly as the boy sprints after it.
Smiley frowns. "Phil, stop treating your son like a dog."
"He likes it!" He throws his arms up into the air in exasperation. "What else am I supposed to do? I don't know any games! I never went outside when I was his age!"
Phred smirks.
"That explains why you're so pale. You've got the complexion of white bread."
"Shut up, Phred."
"Tell him to make some friends, maybe," Zack deadpans. "He's, what, five now? Make him socialize. He can't be hanging around boring-ass adults all day."
"Watch your language in front of Sunny!" Smiley punches Zack's shoulder as she scolds him, which makes him shrink in on himself. Phil almost finds this amusing. Almost.
"Already five years old," Phred nods wistfully, pretending to wipe away a tear. "They grow up so fast."
Smiley scoffs and shakes her head, then looks back up at Phil. "You know how much he looks up to you, Phillip? He's gonna grow up and realize his beloved father played with him like he was a German shepherd."
"At least I'm playing with him at all," he argues back, but immediately gives in to Smiley's glare. She's gotten really good at that protective motherly glare. "Okay, okay, I'll... figure something out."
Sunny skips back over, returning the stick in two pieces, looking utterly proud of himself. "Ta-da!" He exclaims as he presents the sticks to his father.
"Good job, sunbeam." Phil nods, ruffling his hair; a lighter shade of brown than Smiley's, more like Phil's own mother's hair color. Zack shoves him, and he resists the urge to strike back, really trying to be a good role model right now. "Hey, buddy. You should go, like... make friends."
"What's "friends"?" Sunny asks, still grinning. His small teeth shine in the sunlight, one of then missing because it had fallen out days ago.
"..."
"Good job parenting," Zack leans in, deadpan, arms resting on the back of the bench from where he's standing behind it.
"Go jump off a bridge, Zack."
"PHIL."
"Sorry, honey," Phil winces, fidgeting with the hem of his black shirt, looking back at Sunny, briefly struggling for words. "Don't say that to anyone. Look, just... okay. Friends are... what me and uncle Phred are. And uncle Zack. We're all friends."
Sunny tilts his little head. "What about mommy?"
"...Your mom is my wife. That's different from a friend."
"So you're not mommy's friend?"
"Well, I-I guess we... still qualify as friends..? Friends are people that you're very close to, and that you like a lot, get along with well most of the time. Not usually family, but they... can be, if you want them to be."
"So you're my friend?!" Sunny beams up at Phil with genuine delight, leaving him briefly speechless. Then he exclaims, "Daddy's my friend!!!"
"...Right. Yeah," Phil agrees after a moment. "And you make friends by talking to people. Just go... talk to someone small like you and make a friend."
"I have an idea. How about," Smiley pushes Phil off the bench, "You go play with him. Bonding time. Shoo."
Phil blinks at her as he staggers to regain his balance, then sighs. He knows better than to argue when he knows damn well he's in the wrong. "Yeah... yeah. C'mon, Sunny. Let's go play."
Sunny lights up like a firework, grabbing Phil's hand and dragging him towards the playground. He is surprisingly strong for a five year old. Probably Smiley's genes.
—
On the playground, Phil gets dragged up to the very top by the world's most excited five year old, having to weave around other kids having fun and minding their own business. It's a much larger playground than he's used to; but, to be fair, the town he grew up in was very poor.
"Slide with me!" Sunny beams, pointing to the big slide.
"I.. think I'm too big for that, sunbeam," Phil lies.
"No, you're small!" Sunny shakes his head. "Come on! Please?"
"Okay, okay..." Phil reluctantly puts Sunny in his lap, then briefly glances to the railing to see if there's anyone at the bottom so he doesn't bodyslam someone's unsuspecting child. He scoots them into the slide and lets gravity take them to the bottom.
Sunny lets out delighted laughter the whole time, which does make Phil feel warm and fuzzy inside. It's not like he doesn't care about his son; there's not a doubt in his mind that he loves Sunny. He's just... not well-versed in parenting, and, frankly, he could've had better parents himself. They hadn't batted an eye when he told them he got picked up by aliens and kidnapped by the government and he saved the world. Maybe they just thought he was being imaginative. Kind of reasonable for an eight year old, but still immeasurably annoying considering he had started to have genuine panic attacks in small classrooms or other confined spaces for years afterward.
He doesn't have a single clue what he's doing, like, at all, though. He'd also never really had much of a desire to have kids, but Smiley did. Although she had expressed that she'd be fine if he didn't want it, he wanted her to be happy and he was willing to take on the responsibility, so...
They both tumble out of the slide with alarming speed, but thankfully unharmed. Phil even manages a quiet laugh.
"Like--like when you say bread crumbs and beaver shit!" Sunny yells. And Phil quickly corrects--
"Wha--Spit. Spit. It's spit. Don't say that other word."
"Shit?"
"Yes. Don't say that. That's an adult word."
"Ohhhhhhhh. Like when Uncle Zack says the fuck word?"
"Stop. Um, please," Phil adds before Sunny can scold him for being "impolite".
"Why are they adult words?"
"I... don't know. They just are."
Phil scoops Sunny up and carries him back towards the playground. The young boy continues to ask questions that Phil has absolutely no answer for, so he decides to try and reroute his energy. "Do you want to go on the swings?"
"YES yes yes yes! Pwease!" Sunny squeals, immediately kicking his feet. "PWETTY PWETTY PWEASE?!"
"...You must love the swings," Phil nods. How did he not know that? Has he not been paying attention? They come to the playground all the time. Now he feels like an awful parent again.
"The swings is my FAVOWITE!!!" Sunny tugs on Phil's shirt. He's been quite good with his reading comprehension, vocabulary, and speech so far; impressing both of them, really. But he forgets his "L"s and "R"s when he's excited. It's more cute than anything...
Sunny is also currently donning Phil's old green hoodie; the one he himself used to wear all the time, but quickly grew out of come puberty. He had mostly kept it for the memories, but decided to give it to Sunny when he was old enough for it to fit relatively well. It's definitely too big for him, but it's now Sunny's favorite hoodie. He chews on the hoodie's strings a lot.
"Oh, really? You want me to push you?" Phil asks as he starts to set Sunny down on the swingset.
"Yes--No! No no no, I have to sit the other way!" Sunny suddenly starts to scramble frantically, as if Phil is committing a crime by trying to make him face the building and not the playground.
"You'll be perfectly fine either way--" Phil starts, then cuts himself off, realizing that won't help as Sunny gets right off the swing and walks around to sit in his preferred direction. "...Okay. You can sit that way, I'm sorry."
"I forgive you," Sunny says, grabbing onto the swing's chains. His tail swishes behind him, and his little feet don't even get close to touching the ground.
Phil smiles a bit, then slowly starts to push Sunny back and forth. "Uh... what's your favorite part about the swings?"
"I like the SKY!!!" Sunny kicks his little feet. "Look, daddy! I'm in the sky!"
"You are!" Phil tries to match his energy. He's suddenly very self-conscious about his parenting abilities. "You're going so high. You're like a bird."
"I'm like a bird? I can FLY?!" Sunny squeals. "If I jump off will I fly?!"
"No! No, no!" Phil quickly jumps in. "No jumping off the swings! Birds are built for flying, Sunny isn't."
"Awww...." Sunny looks pitifully disappointed.
Phil pinches the bridge of his nose, then sighs, walking in front of the swing a safe distance away. "Okay. You can jump off once. But you have to jump towards me."
Sunny lights up instantly, nodding as he reels back on the swing. He lets himself swing a few times, then he hops off of the swing when it's at its highest.
Phil was expecting the swing to send him a bit more forward, but, alas, it did not. Thankfully, Phil is able to rush forward just enough to grab him before he falls.
"Christ above. Yeah, let's never do that again. Um..." his gaze flicks towards the sky. "Oh. It's getting to sunset. We should go home, buddy."
Sunny frowns. "Already? That's not fair!" He tears up. "I want to play FOREVER!!! I want to swings forever!"
Phil blinks, already sensing a tantrum coming along. But he tries to be calm and just agree; he's in, like, one singular parenting forum that he checks once in a blue moon when he's desperate, and supposedly agreeing will make children feel heard. Or something.
"I know! It's not fair at all, is it? But we can play tomorrow! Tomorrow is very close by," he offers.
"Tomorrow is FOREVER!!!" Sunny wails, already crying into Phil's shoulder.
"You're right, it is forever." He begins to carry Sunny back to the other three. "But we can have fun at home. You want to play that new game you got for your birthday that you like? The gorey pixel one that gave daddy nightmares? With the floating eyeballs?"
Sunny's tears slow, just slightly. "I wanna play outside..."
"I know, Sunshine. It's very good that you want to play outside, but we only get to play outside during daytime. Outside playtime at night can be dangerous. Even mommy and daddy don't play outside at night. That's when we do inside playtime."
And then comes the part most parents come to dread, but Phil has somehow adapted to,
"Why?" Sunny sniffles.
"Because darkness is hard to see in, and you can get hurt or worse," Phil replies gently.
"Why?"
"Because our eyes aren't built to see well in the dark."
"Why?"
"Because that's not how we evolved to be."
"Why?"
"Because we're diurnal, which means we're built to be awake at daytime."
"Why?"
"Because it was easier for our ancestors to chase down food in the daylight."
"Why?"
"Because there's not as much light in the sky at night."
"Why?"
"Because the Earth rotates around on an axis, which makes day and night. When it's night time, we're facing away from the sun, which makes sunlight not hit us very well. It's like your shadow, how it makes the ground and the wall look dark, but on a much larger scale."
Sunny falls silent, processing all these words and concepts he's never heard of or even considered before. Another success. Phil has learned that honesty works quite well. Then, the small boy whispers "okay..." and starts to doze off against his shoulder, and, admittedly, it does make his heart flutter.
He walks back over to the others, awkwardly carrying Sunny in his arms. Smiley clasps her hands together in front of her mouth like this is just the cutest thing she's ever seen. Zack, not even remotely inconspicuous, takes a picture.
"I think it's time to go home," Phil decides. "Cried himself to sleep. I may have promised playtime tomorrow."
"He's pretty good at that. Crying himself to sleep," Phred clarifies. "But it's cute." Phil proceeds to plop Sunny down onto Phred's lap (gently), but he doesn't seem to mind at all. He's been Sunny's babysitter for some time now, since Phil and Smiley and Zack all have jobs and Phred is still working on it. But he's just very fond of the kid. Phred scoops him right up, with all the elegance of the very practiced babysitter that he is, and gets up off the bench. Then they all start to head home for the night, seemingly content with the day.