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Apr. 7th, 2006 04:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nnyMilliways fic for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
indy_go and chaos_pockets.
With huge thanks tomuffinbutt, for help at a key moment, and copinggoggles, for the ending. Without their encouragement this wouldn't exist. XD
It was probably Bernard that noticed first; it tended to be. He wouldn't necessarily have said anything, not unless it became a problem, but that was the way it was with them. Charlotte tended to be tucked beside her mother, confiding things quietly. Anthony, solemn and often completely lost in whatever the current book might be, was more likely to pose hypothetical situations (involving well-loved fictitious characters) to the angel, if need be. As for Jacob – well, Jake never seemed to have problems, 'though there was no telling what he and Crowley talked about when dark head was bent close to red. It was possible they weren't always plotting some mischief. Unlikely, certainly, but possible.
Sunny, though – Sunny was often her father's problem, in the most literal possible interpretation of the term. Far too alike to ever get by peaceably, their arguments tended to rock the bar to its foundations – as did the equally tempestuous reconciliations. The other family members tended to know better than to intervene until the Bar started producing dynamite. But they understood each other, and even if it wasn't always him who did the talking to her he was always the first to realise she needed it.
It was probably Bernard, then, that noticed it first. Not the change in wardrobe, the initially quite clumsy experimentations with eyeliner – that was readily obvious to even the most casual observer. It prompted rolled eyes from her youngest brother, makeup lessons and advice on hair colours from her mother, and unexpected support from the angel, who provided a beautifully worked leather cuff, made by one of his many acquaintances. After a time of unexpected silences and unprovoked glares, it thawed her to him for a while.
But there were other things.
There was the way Sunny took a little more care over her appearance, at the weekends. A pair of sunglasses she appropriated from her mother's wardrobe and wore even when she didn't need to. A battered postcard that had disappeared from the front of the fridge. Little indications of a trend that had her father caught somewhere between laughter and worry, and half tempted to take Crowley aside for a quick word, one of these days. It'd always been said that people started to resemble their pets, but this was getting ridiculous.
It all came to a head a day or two after one of the lake parties. Sunny had been more mercurial than ever, splitting her time about evenly: half of it was spent showing herself off in the water, displaying her new bikini (bought in spite of Bernard's spluttering) and the figure that, at fourteen, was finally starting to blossom. The other half of the party had her sulking on the porch, wrapped entirely in her towel and refusing all invitations to join the rest of them by the fire. Not a one of them could figure out quite what had prompted it – Crowley, who had insisted that Jake not upset his older sister for this one night at least, had dangled the boy upside down by one ankle long enough to believe that it hadn't been him. Bernard had just watched - the way Aziraphael, laughing and trying to hide it, had scolded Crowley; the way Crowley had set himself down close enough to share body heat, even through the sniping – and said nothing.
Two days later, though, and Sunny still had yet to even start to live up to her name.
Aziraphael was over for the afternoon and evening, as he so often was. Bernard's cooking alone made it impossible for him to stay away for long, and then there were the children and the pets and the clamor that, to him, had come to mean family. But a couple of comments over the dinner table had him frowning faintly in her direction, not entirely sure whether to laugh, especially when Bernard's expression was taken into account. He looked at 'Dora, bemused, and she just shrugged and made a face which somehow managed to capture the trials of living with an adolescent quite perfectly. And then shortly thereafter was the incident with the gravy boat, which he charitably attempted to excuse as an accident.
"Really, my dear, it's no bother."
He scrubbed a little harder at the sleeve of his shirt, then regarded the mess it had made of his hanky with some dismay before mustering a smile in Sunny's direction.
"I'm sure it'll come out in the wash, and it's not as though I particularly like this one in any case. Perhaps I ought to take a leaf from Crowley's book, dress all in black and laugh up my sleeve at stains. For that matter, I could just as easily steal his shirts as his dress sense – "
An inarticulate sound of frustration, and Sunny fled the room, leaving 'Dora and Aziraphael staring after her with identical expressions of shock. Bernard was beating his head gently against the small clear patch of table next to his side-plate, and Jacob was taking the opportunity to steal the remains of his sister's roast potatoes.
"I – what – was it something I – ?"
"Don't worry about it, angel." Bernard rubbed a hand over his face, leaning back in his chair and letting out a long breath. "It's been coming a while. At least it's only your shirt that was sacrificed to the great gods of love."
"It wouldn't be the first," Aziraphael answered, before his brain had quite caught up with his mouth. And then, "I'm sorry?"
"Sunny and Crowley, sitting in a tree," was all the youngest Tonks-Wrangle managed before Charlotte threw a bread roll at him.
"…what?"
"Oh Merlin's balls," yelped 'Dora, loud enough for Anthony to raise his head from his book and prompting a hoot of laughter from Jake and a scandalised 'mum' from her daughter. "She's not, has she?"
"Not what?"
"'fraid so. I was hoping she'd get over it when he fell ass over tit – "
"Bernard, really."
"- at Anthony's birthday, but no luck."
"Is anyone," Aziraphael asked, not quite so patiently as he ought, "going to tell me what on Earth is going on?"
"My daughter," 'Dora announced, with an air of occasion and no little amount of glee, "has got a crush on your boyfriend."
"…oh," Aziraphael managed, faintly. And – "you know you're not to call him that in public, I take it?"
"I guess I'd better – " Bernard hauled himself to his feet, and jerked his head in the direction Sunny had gone. "Save me dessert or I'll set the squid on you."
The angel was biting his lip.
"You're sure you don't want me to – "
"I'm the goddamned pater familias, Aziraphael. I'll handle it."
*
A corridor, just like any other. He'd investigated once, ball of string in hand, just to see how far the place actually went; he'd given up after he'd walked in a straight line for half an hour and then tripped over his own damned string. That was the thing about Milliways – she really could be anywhere.
He found her, eventually, by following the threads of faint argument, tugging just at the edges of his consciousness. She'd given up pulling at the door by the time he reached her and was sat with her back to it, arms folded atop bony knees.
"What?"
Belligerence was stage one. Monosyllables, too. If he was lucky they'd skip stage two, which involved breakages, but right now it was just safer to stick to his own side of the corridor, leaning against the wall and pretending he wasn't as old as he was starting to feel.
"You want to talk about it?"
"No."
That lower lip thing, that was all her own. No one else did it as well as she did, not even Nymphadora.
"So - " he tipped his head back against the wall and grinned and knew he was safe because eye contact wasn't ever until stage three – "how about them sox?"
"He's just so cool," she burst out.
Bernard manfully suppressed the urge to roll around the floor, cackling madly, and said absolutely nothing about the Cheese Incident. He could've asked who she meant, but figured she deserved better than that.
"Yeah, he's cool."
She lifted her head, then, which was a point to him. The scowl, not so much.
"You're gonna tell me I haven't got a chance now, right?"
"Kid, you're a Tonks-Wrangle. Usually I'd be saying there isn't a guy in the world you couldn't have. Just... there's no splitting those two up. Trust me, I know."
Sunny looked at him for a very long moment.
"Um. Ber'd? You didn't have a crush on Crowley, right? 'cos I don't think I could cope."
There was silence.
Quite a bit of it.
"You know it's not too late to disown you, right?"
A suggestion of a smile – two-nil.
"For your information," he continued, "it was your mum. Had a thing for the angel."
"Aziraphael?"
And the expression on her face, that prompted a laugh.
"Hey, I taught you to be tolerant, alright?"
"He calls me Mug."
"…yeah. I know. But he has his good points."
"But he's not…" She changed tack. "It's not like I couldn't wait. I'll be old enough for Crowley eventually."
…fuck. Two-one, and a wince he couldn't hide, 'cos he really didn't need to be thinking about how it was possible. That way lay madness, and possibly shotguns.
"Look, Sunshine, it's like you said. He's cool. And you're cool. The two of you together – " another involuntary wince, two-all – "it just wouldn't work. It'd be like a black hole of cool, some kind of crazy gravitational event of cool. Anything could happen; hell, the damn Universe might restart, and then I'd be out of a job."
She ducked her head again, hiding what he was pretty sure was a grin. And the Bossman was back in the lead.
"Crowley needs someone – if he has someone else cool, the world couldn't cope. And the average levels of dork, too, just not gonna cut it."
Sunny heaved a sigh.
"So, the angel."
"So, the angel," Bernard echoed, feeling vaguely disloyal. But only vaguely.
"I just…" she blew her hair out of her face, looking fed up but not exactly devastated. "He treats me like a grown-up."
"Hey! I treat you like a grown-up."
"Yeah, but you're my dad. And he's – " a dreamy expression, and Bernard panicked, faintly. It needed heading off at the pass.
"He's practising."
"…practising?"
"For when you are a grown-up, and he's exactly the same as he is now. He'll still be around, you know. And," he continued, gentler than usual, "when you're older, too. When you've found someone, and settled down, and have kids of your own older than you are now – he'll still be just as he is."
She frowned, considering, and leaned forward a little to rest her chin on her arm, blue eyes fixed on his from behind stripes of long blonde hair.
"I didn't think about that."
It was safe enough. Bernard pushed away from the wall, walking over to take a seat next to her on the corridor floor.
"That's 'cos you're fourteen, Sunshine. You're gonna live forever."
"Does it bother you?"
He slid an arm around her shoulders and squeezed a little.
"Sure it bothers me. I'm getting old and crumbly, and he's all – cheekbones and sunglasses." And then he turned his head and grinned at her. "But hey, my wife's still prettier than his."
She rolled her eyes.
"Ber'd, you're an idiot."
"And I thank the universe every day that I have you to remind me."
Not entirely teasing.
He disentangled himself from Sunny and stretched his arms out in front of himself, back popping ominously.
"Are you about done? 'cos if there's still moping to be done it'd probably be more comfortable after dessert."
"Yeah, I'm about done." She sighed, long-sufferingly, and got slowly to her feet. "I just – it hurts." And she looked so miserable that he couldn't quite find it in himself to tease.
"I know it does."
"I'll never," she informed him solemnly, "love again."
He got up, taking the opportunity to hide his face, and slung an arm around her shoulders.
"Sure you won't. Best thing for it."
And, to give her her due, although the eyeliner experiments continued unabated, it was a good three weeks before she started sighing after someone new and enquiring, in tones of righteous indignation, where precisely the rum had disappeared to.
indy_go and chaos_pockets.With huge thanks to
muffinbutt, for help at a key moment, and copinggoggles, for the ending. Without their encouragement this wouldn't exist. XDIt was probably Bernard that noticed first; it tended to be. He wouldn't necessarily have said anything, not unless it became a problem, but that was the way it was with them. Charlotte tended to be tucked beside her mother, confiding things quietly. Anthony, solemn and often completely lost in whatever the current book might be, was more likely to pose hypothetical situations (involving well-loved fictitious characters) to the angel, if need be. As for Jacob – well, Jake never seemed to have problems, 'though there was no telling what he and Crowley talked about when dark head was bent close to red. It was possible they weren't always plotting some mischief. Unlikely, certainly, but possible.
Sunny, though – Sunny was often her father's problem, in the most literal possible interpretation of the term. Far too alike to ever get by peaceably, their arguments tended to rock the bar to its foundations – as did the equally tempestuous reconciliations. The other family members tended to know better than to intervene until the Bar started producing dynamite. But they understood each other, and even if it wasn't always him who did the talking to her he was always the first to realise she needed it.
It was probably Bernard, then, that noticed it first. Not the change in wardrobe, the initially quite clumsy experimentations with eyeliner – that was readily obvious to even the most casual observer. It prompted rolled eyes from her youngest brother, makeup lessons and advice on hair colours from her mother, and unexpected support from the angel, who provided a beautifully worked leather cuff, made by one of his many acquaintances. After a time of unexpected silences and unprovoked glares, it thawed her to him for a while.
But there were other things.
There was the way Sunny took a little more care over her appearance, at the weekends. A pair of sunglasses she appropriated from her mother's wardrobe and wore even when she didn't need to. A battered postcard that had disappeared from the front of the fridge. Little indications of a trend that had her father caught somewhere between laughter and worry, and half tempted to take Crowley aside for a quick word, one of these days. It'd always been said that people started to resemble their pets, but this was getting ridiculous.
It all came to a head a day or two after one of the lake parties. Sunny had been more mercurial than ever, splitting her time about evenly: half of it was spent showing herself off in the water, displaying her new bikini (bought in spite of Bernard's spluttering) and the figure that, at fourteen, was finally starting to blossom. The other half of the party had her sulking on the porch, wrapped entirely in her towel and refusing all invitations to join the rest of them by the fire. Not a one of them could figure out quite what had prompted it – Crowley, who had insisted that Jake not upset his older sister for this one night at least, had dangled the boy upside down by one ankle long enough to believe that it hadn't been him. Bernard had just watched - the way Aziraphael, laughing and trying to hide it, had scolded Crowley; the way Crowley had set himself down close enough to share body heat, even through the sniping – and said nothing.
Two days later, though, and Sunny still had yet to even start to live up to her name.
Aziraphael was over for the afternoon and evening, as he so often was. Bernard's cooking alone made it impossible for him to stay away for long, and then there were the children and the pets and the clamor that, to him, had come to mean family. But a couple of comments over the dinner table had him frowning faintly in her direction, not entirely sure whether to laugh, especially when Bernard's expression was taken into account. He looked at 'Dora, bemused, and she just shrugged and made a face which somehow managed to capture the trials of living with an adolescent quite perfectly. And then shortly thereafter was the incident with the gravy boat, which he charitably attempted to excuse as an accident.
"Really, my dear, it's no bother."
He scrubbed a little harder at the sleeve of his shirt, then regarded the mess it had made of his hanky with some dismay before mustering a smile in Sunny's direction.
"I'm sure it'll come out in the wash, and it's not as though I particularly like this one in any case. Perhaps I ought to take a leaf from Crowley's book, dress all in black and laugh up my sleeve at stains. For that matter, I could just as easily steal his shirts as his dress sense – "
An inarticulate sound of frustration, and Sunny fled the room, leaving 'Dora and Aziraphael staring after her with identical expressions of shock. Bernard was beating his head gently against the small clear patch of table next to his side-plate, and Jacob was taking the opportunity to steal the remains of his sister's roast potatoes.
"I – what – was it something I – ?"
"Don't worry about it, angel." Bernard rubbed a hand over his face, leaning back in his chair and letting out a long breath. "It's been coming a while. At least it's only your shirt that was sacrificed to the great gods of love."
"It wouldn't be the first," Aziraphael answered, before his brain had quite caught up with his mouth. And then, "I'm sorry?"
"Sunny and Crowley, sitting in a tree," was all the youngest Tonks-Wrangle managed before Charlotte threw a bread roll at him.
"…what?"
"Oh Merlin's balls," yelped 'Dora, loud enough for Anthony to raise his head from his book and prompting a hoot of laughter from Jake and a scandalised 'mum' from her daughter. "She's not, has she?"
"Not what?"
"'fraid so. I was hoping she'd get over it when he fell ass over tit – "
"Bernard, really."
"- at Anthony's birthday, but no luck."
"Is anyone," Aziraphael asked, not quite so patiently as he ought, "going to tell me what on Earth is going on?"
"My daughter," 'Dora announced, with an air of occasion and no little amount of glee, "has got a crush on your boyfriend."
"…oh," Aziraphael managed, faintly. And – "you know you're not to call him that in public, I take it?"
"I guess I'd better – " Bernard hauled himself to his feet, and jerked his head in the direction Sunny had gone. "Save me dessert or I'll set the squid on you."
The angel was biting his lip.
"You're sure you don't want me to – "
"I'm the goddamned pater familias, Aziraphael. I'll handle it."
*
A corridor, just like any other. He'd investigated once, ball of string in hand, just to see how far the place actually went; he'd given up after he'd walked in a straight line for half an hour and then tripped over his own damned string. That was the thing about Milliways – she really could be anywhere.
He found her, eventually, by following the threads of faint argument, tugging just at the edges of his consciousness. She'd given up pulling at the door by the time he reached her and was sat with her back to it, arms folded atop bony knees.
"What?"
Belligerence was stage one. Monosyllables, too. If he was lucky they'd skip stage two, which involved breakages, but right now it was just safer to stick to his own side of the corridor, leaning against the wall and pretending he wasn't as old as he was starting to feel.
"You want to talk about it?"
"No."
That lower lip thing, that was all her own. No one else did it as well as she did, not even Nymphadora.
"So - " he tipped his head back against the wall and grinned and knew he was safe because eye contact wasn't ever until stage three – "how about them sox?"
"He's just so cool," she burst out.
Bernard manfully suppressed the urge to roll around the floor, cackling madly, and said absolutely nothing about the Cheese Incident. He could've asked who she meant, but figured she deserved better than that.
"Yeah, he's cool."
She lifted her head, then, which was a point to him. The scowl, not so much.
"You're gonna tell me I haven't got a chance now, right?"
"Kid, you're a Tonks-Wrangle. Usually I'd be saying there isn't a guy in the world you couldn't have. Just... there's no splitting those two up. Trust me, I know."
Sunny looked at him for a very long moment.
"Um. Ber'd? You didn't have a crush on Crowley, right? 'cos I don't think I could cope."
There was silence.
Quite a bit of it.
"You know it's not too late to disown you, right?"
A suggestion of a smile – two-nil.
"For your information," he continued, "it was your mum. Had a thing for the angel."
"Aziraphael?"
And the expression on her face, that prompted a laugh.
"Hey, I taught you to be tolerant, alright?"
"He calls me Mug."
"…yeah. I know. But he has his good points."
"But he's not…" She changed tack. "It's not like I couldn't wait. I'll be old enough for Crowley eventually."
…fuck. Two-one, and a wince he couldn't hide, 'cos he really didn't need to be thinking about how it was possible. That way lay madness, and possibly shotguns.
"Look, Sunshine, it's like you said. He's cool. And you're cool. The two of you together – " another involuntary wince, two-all – "it just wouldn't work. It'd be like a black hole of cool, some kind of crazy gravitational event of cool. Anything could happen; hell, the damn Universe might restart, and then I'd be out of a job."
She ducked her head again, hiding what he was pretty sure was a grin. And the Bossman was back in the lead.
"Crowley needs someone – if he has someone else cool, the world couldn't cope. And the average levels of dork, too, just not gonna cut it."
Sunny heaved a sigh.
"So, the angel."
"So, the angel," Bernard echoed, feeling vaguely disloyal. But only vaguely.
"I just…" she blew her hair out of her face, looking fed up but not exactly devastated. "He treats me like a grown-up."
"Hey! I treat you like a grown-up."
"Yeah, but you're my dad. And he's – " a dreamy expression, and Bernard panicked, faintly. It needed heading off at the pass.
"He's practising."
"…practising?"
"For when you are a grown-up, and he's exactly the same as he is now. He'll still be around, you know. And," he continued, gentler than usual, "when you're older, too. When you've found someone, and settled down, and have kids of your own older than you are now – he'll still be just as he is."
She frowned, considering, and leaned forward a little to rest her chin on her arm, blue eyes fixed on his from behind stripes of long blonde hair.
"I didn't think about that."
It was safe enough. Bernard pushed away from the wall, walking over to take a seat next to her on the corridor floor.
"That's 'cos you're fourteen, Sunshine. You're gonna live forever."
"Does it bother you?"
He slid an arm around her shoulders and squeezed a little.
"Sure it bothers me. I'm getting old and crumbly, and he's all – cheekbones and sunglasses." And then he turned his head and grinned at her. "But hey, my wife's still prettier than his."
She rolled her eyes.
"Ber'd, you're an idiot."
"And I thank the universe every day that I have you to remind me."
Not entirely teasing.
He disentangled himself from Sunny and stretched his arms out in front of himself, back popping ominously.
"Are you about done? 'cos if there's still moping to be done it'd probably be more comfortable after dessert."
"Yeah, I'm about done." She sighed, long-sufferingly, and got slowly to her feet. "I just – it hurts." And she looked so miserable that he couldn't quite find it in himself to tease.
"I know it does."
"I'll never," she informed him solemnly, "love again."
He got up, taking the opportunity to hide his face, and slung an arm around her shoulders.
"Sure you won't. Best thing for it."
And, to give her her due, although the eyeliner experiments continued unabated, it was a good three weeks before she started sighing after someone new and enquiring, in tones of righteous indignation, where precisely the rum had disappeared to.
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no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 08:34 am (UTC)No, seriously.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
And the ending just made me inhale my iced tea.
*squashes*
Thank you. Thank you thank you.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 08:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 08:49 am (UTC)pater familias.
ominous popping.
RUM!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 08:51 am (UTC)There was silence.
Quite a bit of it.
*SNORT*
"Look, Sunshine, it's like you said. He's cool. And you're cool. The two of you together – " another involuntary wince, two-all – "it just wouldn't work. It'd be like a black hole of cool, some kind of crazy gravitational event of cool. Anything could happen; hell, the damn Universe might restart, and then I'd be out of a job."
AH HAHAHA GENIUS.
I love it all. It is cute and squishy.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 08:53 am (UTC)*glees*
no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 09:14 am (UTC)You are brilliant and I adore.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 09:47 am (UTC)BECAUSE YOU HAVE KILLED ME.
It was love. Except the last line. Which was love, but also AHAHAHAHAH, and killed me.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 05:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 11:13 am (UTC)If Tonks charms Anthony's piglet at some point to, like, walk around? KITTY MUST SEE THE ZOMBIE PIGLET. I WILL PAY FOR THIS.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 01:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 10:34 am (UTC)Fucking Milliways :D
no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 11:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 04:21 pm (UTC)That said?
BUAHAHAHAAHA!
no subject
Date: 2006-04-07 06:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-09 02:19 pm (UTC)*and is dead*
*of love*
no subject
Date: 2006-04-11 07:19 pm (UTC)I don't know how I missed this, but I'm so glad I found it. XD Sunny & Bernard have such a fantastic relationship and you've nailed all the family members. In my totally unprofessional opinion.
And hey, I have a crush on Crowley, too! *hopeful look*