A/N: Here's the thing, lovelies. I've obviously become even more hopeless than before at writing/updating my stories, although believe it or not I am working on them probably more often than you think. That being said, in four weeks time, I'm moving to England and starting my new job as a first year teacher, so...uhm, I sense very little free time in my future. Hopefully I'll pop a few of those here and there, even complete one of my many unfinished chapters someday. I have to believe in hope, like Alt!Broyles hahaha.
This was written quite fast, in the hope that it would bring a smile on someone's face.
Astrid had been adamant about it. He was not to come in.
"Would you just humor me?" She'd said with a hint of exasperation. "It's bad luck, ok?"
He loved Astrid dearly, but she could be a bit superstitious at times, the kind of person who never walked under a ladder, and who threw spilled salt over their left shoulder to chase evil spirits away. But really, what was he supposed to do?
He was done, ready to go, and he never liked being forced to stay away from his girls. Not to mention his desire to keep his distance from Walter, who kept insisting it wasn't too late for them to swap tuxedos.
Poor Astrid never stood a chance; Peter was, and always would be, a rule breaker.
She noticed him mere seconds after he opened the door, even though he did it as quietly as he possible, barely sticking his head inside to take a peek. She met his gaze in the dresser's mirror, and she rolled her eyes with a defeated shake of her head. She chose not to make his presence known, though, going back to her task.
Olivia seemed completely oblivious to his arrival, a phenomenon he was quite used to in their daily live. All of her focus was on the toddler who sat on her lap, facing her. As always, their two-year-old didn't seem to care much about the fact that she was being intrusive and making the task at hand harder for every adult involved.
And, as always, every adult involved didn't seem to mind much either.
Etta's focus was equally set on her mother, her blue eyes wide with glee, the last of her laughter still on her lips; it was that sound more than anything that had drawn him here, and it was the scene before his eyes that was keeping him there.
"Again?" Olivia asked softly, in a tone of voice Peter had come to associate with loving moments between mother and child.
"Again!" Etta agreed wholeheartedly, already grinning from ear to ear, now bouncing in an unusually subdued manner.
Obviously, she must have been told that she'd have to stay as still as possible if she wanted to remain where she was, but she was having a hard time containing the energy that always seemed to be radiating out of her.
Olivia complied. She took a deep breath, and blew up her cheeks. Etta knew just what to do. She brought both her tiny hands to each side of her mother's face, and pressed hard.
The air came out of Olivia's mouth in a wet, resonating sound that would have made any respectable two-year-old shriek with laughter. Their daughter was no exception.
"Again, mama, again!" Etta laughed, her bouncing anything but subtle now, and the two of them repeated the operation five more times while behind Olivia, Astrid attempted to finish her hairdo with increasing difficulty.
Taking pity on her, Peter decided to come to her rescue. He pushed the door open, effectively shifting everybody's focus for a second. Having noticed her father standing in the doorway, Etta grinned her special grin and made to escape her mother's lap at once. She and Olivia may team-up against him on occasion, everyone knew Etta was first and foremost a daddy's girl.
"Daddyyyyyyyyyyyy!" she exclaimed as if to prove that very point, wriggling free from Olivia's loose grip and nothing short of tumbling her way down to the floor.
He didn't know how this child of theirs always managed to do everything with unnecessary movements and energy, but she sure did.
He caught her the instant she was within his reach, promptly bringing her up to kiss the tip of her nose. "How you doing, kiddo?"
"I'm all dwessed up!" She proclaimed, pushing herself away from him so he could see her dress. "And I got white panties!"
"So do I!" Peter said with excessive delight. Really, was there anything more entertaining than having a conversation with a two-year-old? "I'm pretty sure mommy has white panties on, too."
As he said these words, he met Olivia's gaze in mirror. She smirked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you like to know."
"I personally can do without this knowledge," Astrid pointed out, not even looking at any of them, intent on finishing working on Olivia's hair now that she was sitting still again.
"Shame," Peter said. "What color do you think Auntie Astrid's panties are, sweetie?"
Etta looked at Astrid thoughtfully, causing that little crease between her eyes to appear, her lips pursing in a very Olivia-ish way. "Puwple," she decided then. "Like gwandpa's clothes."
A/N: Because puwple never goes out of style.
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