Daddy's Girl

By: Ryuu(karma_aster@yahoo.com)

Rating: G

Summary: Richard Addenbrooke is about to discover just how much the adolescent dating scene has changed in the past few decades.

Disclaimer: I was sitting around writing Gargoyles fics one day

Singing do-wah-diddy-diddy-dum-diddy-do

Inviting all my favorite gargs to come out and play

Singing do-wah-diddy-diddy-dum-diddy-do

Brooklyn's hot (Brooklyn's hot)

Goliath's fine (Goliath's fine)

Brooklyn's hot, Goliath's fine

But they're Disney's and not mine!

Notes, feedback & whatnot: Big thank-you's and virtual hugs go to many people, all of whom have been great sources of inspiration and ego-boostage for me, but especially to my proofreaders, Rebecca, Norcumi, and Morning Cereal. You guys are amazing and I can't even begin to thank you for how much you do!

I would be overjoyed to get feedback! The address is above, and I love to get constructive comments on my work whether good or bad. Every bit goes to making the next fic that much better! Please drop me an e-mail if you want to archive this.

This fic is dedicated to Norcumi for inspiring the idea in the first place.

***

Richard Addenbrooke had always considered himself a fairly liberal person. In college, he'd been part of the Young Democrats, let his hair grow long, and could be found hanging out in the local coffeehouse every Friday night talking about ideals like Truth and Love. When he met his wife, Marjorie, they swore to never sell out to the soulless Establishment, but instead live a life dedicated to Peace, Love, and Understanding the Cosmos.

And then Marjorie got pregnant. Overnight, it seemed, Richard was forced to sell out, become a part of Corporate America, get the house in New Jersey with the station wagon and the dog, and basically turn into his father.

But despite all that, Richard maintained a fairly open mind. He was, after all, a "long-haired hippie freak" who had turned out just fine. Who was to say that other young men, no matter how questionable, might not do the same?

And then his eldest daughter, Kimmy, reached adolescence. She began dating. And suddenly no boy was good enough for Richard Addenbrooke's little girl. He vividly remembered the mass of hormones he'd been as an adolescent, and from what he'd seen over the past twenty years, teenage boys had only gotten worse. What if his sweet little girl wound up dating someone like…well…him?

It didn't help that Kimmy's preferences in boys tended to the exotic. Every young man she brought home, from the biker to the Goth, seemed to be chosen with the express intent of giving Richard heart failure. He winced as his daughter waved, smiled, and went out with these hooligans, wondering if she was going to come back.

Tonight, for example, he was sitting in his living room anxiously awaiting the latest paramour to come and take Kimmy to the movies. When his daughter had mentioned the date last night at dinner, Richard asked what the boy was like. Kimmy merely rolled her eyes, gave the sigh of a long-suffering teenager, and replied, "Well Daddy, he's…different." Given her track record, Richard didn't find this pronouncement particularly comforting.

So, he sat watching the front door like a hawk, determined to impress upon this boy the fact that Kimmy had a very overprotective father at home that would tolerate no malarkey taking place with his daughter. He'd considered getting out his childhood Red Ryder BB gun from storage, but thought that might be overreacting. Plus, he'd never been able to find the pellets for the thing.

The doorbell rang, interrupting his musings. Richard jumped.

"Daddy? Can you get that?" Kimmy called from her room. "I'm not quite ready."

"Sure thing, Princess," Richard called back. He got up, opened the door, and stared in utter disbelief at the sight that met his eyes.

"Uh, hi," the male at the door said, with a sheepish smile, "I, um, here to pick up Kimmy?"

Richard blinked. "Uh…uh…she said she'd be just a minute," he answered, rousing himself from his stupor. "Won't you…er…come in?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Addenbrooke." The male walked into the room, leaving Richard to stare at him as he made his way over to the couch. The long hair in an odd color was something he'd come to expect, but he hadn't been counting on the wings, the tail, or the claws. Mostly, he hadn't expected his daughter to be dating a gargoyle. Richard numbly made his way back to his seat.

"So…how do you do, uh…" he began, trailing off in confusion.

"Brooklyn," the gargoyle supplied.

"What?"

"Brooklyn. It's my name."

"Oh," Richard answered, fighting off a hysterical urge to laugh. "So…you're from New York originally, then."

"Nah," Brooklyn answered, nonchalantly inspecting his talons. "I'm from Scotland. But my clan and I have been living in Manhattan for the past few years."

"Isn't that nice?" said Richard with a forced smile. "You've seen Europe."

Brooklyn nodded. The two lapsed into an awkward silence.

Richard spoke up after a few moments, remembering that he was supposed to be playing the overprotective father, and grilling Kimmy's date mercilessly. "Uh…how did you and Kimmy meet, Brooklyn?"

"Hmm? Oh, it was a week ago. She was in the city with her friends and some muggers attacked her." Brooklyn shrugged. "My clan brothers and I stopped them."

"And…she asked you for a date?"

Brooklyn looked thoughtful. "Actually, she asked me for my phone number."

"Did she?" Richard asked, a sinking feeling settling into his stomach.

"Yeah." Brooklyn nodded again and laughed. "Certainly a first for me."

Richard gave a weak chuckle. "I'll bet." He decided to change the subject. "So, how are you two getting into the city? Are you driving?"

"Um…no," Brooklyn answered. "I don't have a license. We were going to…" He jerked a thumb towards his wings.

"Oh," Richard said nodding, slowly. "Well…yes, that makes sense."

"I promise, I'm a very experienced flier," Brooklyn said earnestly. "I've carried passengers with me several times. Kimmy will be perfectly safe."

"Uh-huh…" Richard nodded again. "Um…has Kimmy mentioned her curfew to you?"

"Yeah. I'll have her back before one," Brooklyn promised.

"Good."

Any further questioning was forestalled by Kimmy's arrival into the living room. "Hi, Brooklyn!" she said with a wide smile.

"Hey, Kimmy." The gargoyle smiled and stood at the girl's entrance, something that did impress Richard. None of her other dates had shown that sort of courtesy.

"Brooklyn and I were having a chat," Richard said.

Kimmy sighed. "I hope he wasn't too hard on you, Brooklyn," she said, shooting her father a mock-irritable glance.

"No, I think it was good," Brooklyn said, offering Kimmy his arm. "You look beautiful."

She smiled and placed a hand on his elbow. "I'll be home before one, Daddy. Don't wait up." The couple walked out the door.

Richard nodded. "You have fun, Princess. And be careful!"

"Oh, Daddy…" Kimmy said, in that irritated tone that seemed to be second nature to all teenage girls, as the door closed behind her.

Richard stared at the closed door for a moment, wondering why his daughter couldn't just date football players like a normal adolescent. Finally, he turned away with a sigh.

"It could be worse," he murmured. "At least he's not a biker."

With a resigned shrug, he went to go watch the evening news.