ultron_junior: ([spec] knocked out)
[personal profile] ultron_junior
There was absolutely no good reason for a teenage android to be up before noon on a Saturday. None. And when that teenage android had The Best Girlfriend in the World, TM, next to him ... well, the chances of him getting out of bed at all that day went down a bit.

Victor's eyes slipped open, and he vaguely contemplated the existence of pancakes and a world outside his room before beginning to drift back to sleep.

Olive had had really cute prom hair, and really cute prom makeup, before she had gone to bed. Alas, such cuteness was no more, and hopefully Victor's sheets would not suffer the worst of her mascara, and Olive wouldn't frighten anyone with the overnight effects of slept-upon updos.

For the moment, though, she was not especially concerned about these factors so much as how warm and cozy and nice this was, just kind of dozing and enjoying her Saturday morning. (She honestly couldn't swear as to whether it was technically still morning, really, but that was also pretty low on her list of concerns.)

Victor's hand moved over, petting that horribly slept-upon updo. It wasn't intentional; it was just where his arm fell as he slid it along the pillow. But it was soft(ish) and he was staying right where he was, thank you very much.

Miss Mystery
... or maybe not, judging from the energetic tapping at the room door.

"Dad, Mom, are you in there? I'm bored and you've been asleep foreevvvvvver."

Olive -- who had been enjoying her slow, comfortable ascent into being fully awake -- cracked an eyelid, staring at the door.

"...did you hear that?" she murmured. Maybe it had been a dream?

"No," Victor said weakly.

Possibly because he wasn't quite awake. It might also have been because he was a bad liar.

Whoever was outside their door had sighed massively and started tapping out shave-and-a-haircut.

"Um, no, there's definitely someone knocking," Olive said, with increasing irritation as she actually came fully awake. She checked to make sure she actually had put clothes on last night before crashing (score one for Team Always-Being-Cold) before toddling over to the door to open it.

...and there was a little girl there. "Um. Hi."

Miss Mystery
"Hey Mom," the little girl said, as if a)they had ever seen her before and b)it was perfectly natural she'd be in their bedroom before noon on a Saturday. "Your hair's all messy. You should comb it. Also I want a donut."

"We just woke up," Victor groaned. "We don't have donuts. And she's not your mom, chica."

Victor was not the most pleasant person when he was barged in on by random children.

"Mom?" Olive echoed, staring at the little girl. "I'm...what? You're like five or something and I am not old enough to be the mom of a kid that old and what?"

Olive had once been warned about this, but she was having selective memory problems at the moment.

Miss Mystery
The little girl gave her a skeptical look with eyes the same liquid green-hazel as Victor's.

"You and Dad are being weird," she decided. "You're totally old enough to be my mom, and I was five, like, forever ago. Now I'm seven and a half."

The half was very important.

"Oh my god she looks like us," Olive said, still kind of hesitant to address the -- no, her, apparently -- child directly. "Victor, she looks like us."

"She -- what?" Victor was beginning to remember he, too, had been warned about this.

He pulled his t-shirt on under the covers and closed in on the girl like she was some exotic animal. "She's got your chin," he told Olive. "But my eyes."

This was weird. He sounded awed; he wasn't sure if he wanted to hug the little girl or do experiments on her.

"So this is bizarre," Olive said, in the conversational tone of one just moments shy of a mental breakdown. "Um. What's your name?"

She needed a name to sub in for scary words like 'daughter,' please.

"Nellie," the little girl answered, in the tone one might use if one suspected one's mother was close to a mental breakdown. "You guys named me for abuela but Marianella's way too long for anybody to say all the time so you just call me Nellie."

She glanced from one parent to the other. "You seriously didn't know I was coming?"

"Honey, do we look like we were prepared for this?" Olive asked, trying to modulate her tone and talk like she was, you know, talking to her child.

Since she was, and all.

Victor was still gobsmacked. He'd always thought kids would be nice someday in theory, but there was a big difference between that and having what was to all appearances his kid, with his mom's name and his eyes, standing in front of him.

Well, this answered his question about whether he could have kids. So that was good, he guessed?

"Total surprise," he ventured. "But we're happy to see you. Um ... you said you want donuts?"

He wasn't doing quite as well at modulating his tone as Olive was. But he was definitely trying.

"Yes! Donuts! We can do that. We can make donuts happen, right?" Olive said, a little uncertainly. She didn't want to fail at her first task of apparent parenthood.

"And a mocha," Nellie added, nonchalantly. If her parents were confused, she was going to press her luck. "You always let me at home."

It was weird they didn't expect her, but they were more or less acting like her parents now. She could handle this.

"And a mo -- wait a second," Olive said, holding up a finger. "Lookit, missy, you are going to grow up tall like your mom, and not stunt your growth. Hot chocolate, not a mocha."

"Your mom's right," Victor confirmed -- and that felt very weird to say. "Hot chocolate, 'cause you don't need to give my short genes any help, and then we can figure out what we're doing for the rest of the day."

He looked wistfully at his bed as he said that. Obviously Plan A was not happening.

"And you can catch us up on what you've been up to lately," Olive added with a quick look towards Victor. "Because we're forgetful like that."

[OOC: Preplayed with the lovely [livejournal.com profile] dirtiest_skank. Establishy.]
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Victor Mancha

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