"Bye, Lincoln!"
"Bye-Bye, Linky!"
"Have a good day with your father, sweetheart!"
"We'll see you later tonight!"
"Take care, Little one!"
"We can't wait to see you again, Linc!"
Lincoln waved to the girls from his place at the bottom of the stairs, offering them a smile that hid the sadness he felt at seeing them depart. Was school going to be an every day thing? Why didn't they go on that first day he had spent with them? He wished he could have at least gone with them in Vanzilla to see them off at the school itself.
He sighed and tilted his cheek into the upturned palm of his good hand, continuing to stare at the door long after it shut behind his mother and sisters. Already, the warm spots on his face began to grow cold, most noticeably now, his right cheek, which had tingled with pleasant warmth when Lynn sat next to him at the table.
That was three spots now. One on the middle of his forehead whenever he was around Luna, one over on the right side of his forehead whenever he was with Lori, and now one on his right cheek for Lynn. How very strange. He wondered why that was.
"Lincoln?" Before he could mull any possible reasons for such a strange occurrence, Lynn Sr. walked into the living room, looking around for his son with a generous smattering of shaving cream over half of his face.
Lincoln's eyes widened and he stood up to hide behind one of the stair's bannisters. "O-Over here, Mister Daddy," He said, peering out at him.
Lynn Sr.'s eyes brightened and he walked over to Lincoln, "Oh, there you are! It got so quiet, I found myself getting a little nervous. Last time it was this quiet, we found LJ hanging from the ceiling fan." He stopped when he saw the way Lincoln seemed to be hiding from him. "Something wrong, squirt?"
"Um…" Lincoln poked his head out from behind the banister. He brought his hand up to his face, gesturing over one side of it, "What's that stuff on your face?"
Lynn Sr. jolted, "Oh! Right! Silly me!" He brought up the razor he had in his hand. "This is shaving cream. I'm shaving," He explained. To show Lincoln further, he brought the razor down over the shaving cream, gliding it through and taking it off. "See? It's just something I do every couple of days."
Lincoln stepped back around, hopping off the last step to get a closer look. "Shaving?" He parroted.
"It's something daddies do to keep their faces clean," Lynn Sr. explained further. He turned on his heel and made his way back to his room, Lincoln unsurely following after him. "I'm guessing you're ready already?" He asked.
"Uh-huh," Lincoln answered, looking around his parent's room when they stepped into it. "Missus Mommy helped me get dressed again. And the girls helped me get ready with them. We brushed our teeth together, and Leni helped me brush my hair." He brought his hand up to feel the little tuft of hair that stuck up at the edge of his head, affectionately referred to by his sisters as a "turkey tail".
"Is that right?" Lynn Sr. replied, stepping up to the bathroom sink in the tiny connecting bathroom of their room. A much needed renovation that Rita and he had splurged on when Luan was born. If their family was going to continue growing, how would they manage with only one bathroom? No thank you, they'd rather avoid such discomforts. "Did LJ spit all over the place again?"
Lincoln actually giggled at that, "Uh-huh, the other girls got mad at her, but Lynn just laughed and said that's what makes brushing your teeth fun."
"That's LJ for you," Lynn Sr. said with a bemused shake of his head. He took a few final swipes of his razor, brushing away the last of the shaving cream and leaving his face fairly smooth. "Ah, there we are," He said, bringing a towel to his face to wipe off the remnants of any leftover shaving cream. He turned to Lincoln, "How do I look, squirt?"
"Um…" Lincoln tilted his head, regarding his father's clean-shaven face. "Shiny," He said after a moment of thought.
Lynn Sr. laughed and moved past Lincoln, going over to his closet and picking out a dark green sweater, "Shiny? I guess that's pretty good, all things considered." He pulled the sweater over the simple blue T-shirt he was wearing. "Alrighty then," He said, reaching out for a small plastic card ID on a bedside counter and pinning it to his sweater. "I think we're just about ready to go."
"Um…" Lincoln brought his fingers together, pressing and bending them nervously, "Can we bring my toys with us? Missus Mommy left the bag on the couch."
"Of course!" Lynn Sr. replied. He went with Lincoln into the living room again, finding the aforementioned carrier bag sitting upon the couch. From its unzipped mouth, several toys and coloring books could be seen, with Bun-Bun being the most noticeable.
"Quite the little treasure trove you got here, Lincoln," Lynn Sr. said, hauling the bag over his shoulder. "Christmas sure came early for you, didn't it?"
Lincoln brought a hand up under his chin, "Um…What's Christmas?"
Lynn Sr. froze, mid-adjustment of the bag. Did Lincoln just ask what he thought he asked? He pleaded with fate that he misheard the boy's question, that he actually did know what perhaps the most cherished holiday for children the world over actually was.
"Mister Daddy?" Lincoln pulled on Lynn Sr.'s sweater, jarring his attention back to him. "Are you okay?"
Lynn Sr. shook his head in a jolt, "Yeah, I'm okay, squirt. Sorry, I was a little surprised by something." He bit his cheek, "Um, in regards to your question, why don't I answer it another time? We should really get going."
Lincoln released his father's sweater, "Okay…" Did I say something wrong? He thought nervously.
…
"Okay, we got your stuff, my stuff, our lunches, my badge…" Lynn Sr. looked over the bags in the trunk of his car, a little, dark green sedan with a fine layer of dirt dusting the bottom portion. "I swear I always forget one thing…" He mumbled, rubbing his chin. He looked over at Lincoln, standing beside him with a thoughtful expression of his own. "Any chance you could tell me, squirt?" He asked with a chuckle.
Lincoln rubbed his chin, mimicking Lynn Sr. rather cutely. "Um…Do you need any toys for yourself?" He guessed.
Lynn Sr. smiled, "Good guess, but I think I'm good on toys." He brought a hand to scratch the back of his head, "Maybe I actually remembered everything today." He brought the trunk of the car down with a soft thud. "I guess even a squirrel as frazzled as me gets all his acorns together on the first try every now and again, eh, Lincoln?"
Lincoln was befuddled by that. Mister Daddy was a squirrel? He didn't have a tail, did he? He found himself pondering that as he followed Lynn Sr. around the side of the car; contemplating any possible squirrel-like characteristics his new father may have exhibited over the past couple of days.
CLICK! "Whoops, watch yourself there, Lincoln!"
Lincoln was spared running into the opened door by Lynn Sr. quickly putting a hand between him and it, causing Lincoln to accidentally bop his forehead into his palm.
Lincoln squeaked in response and crouched down into a curled-up ball, bringing his arms over his head fearfully. "I'm sorry!" He cried, his body trembling violently. "I didn't mean to not pay attention! I was—"
Lynn Sr.'s eyes widened and he kneeled down to Lincoln. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, Lincoln," He said in a hush. He brought a hand to rub the top of Lincoln's head, shushing him comfortingly. "I'm not mad or anything. And you don't have anything to be sorry about. I just didn't want you to hit your head on the door, that's all."
Lincoln's hard set jaw slowly relaxed beneath the gentle ruffling of his locks, a family wide accepted form of calming his nerves, they had all noticed. His shoulders sank and his eyes slowly drifted open to peer at his father, smiling at him reassuringly.
"There you go," Lynn Sr. cheerily said. He mussed Lincoln's hair once more for good measure and stood up. "See? Nothing to be scared of. Mister Daddy just wanted to keep you from hurting your head."
Lincoln blinked and looked towards the door that he had been spared bumping into. Mister Daddy was protecting me? He thought in slight awe. He looked back up at his father, eyes glittering with an emotion he wasn't very familiar with.
Lynn Sr. smiled in return, "Now, how 'bout we get going? Don't wanna get too stuck in traffic now, do we?"
Lincoln nodded, smiling a little bit himself, and walked around the door.
And that's when Lynn Sr. facepalmed.
"Right, that's what I forgot, the carseat…" He groaned, turning his face skyward.
…
Fortunately for the two of them, the Loud house was far from short on carseats, thanks largely in part to the not so long-ago time when most of the children of the family required their usage.
Lynn Sr. sure was glad he was such a packrat at that moment. Though he could've gone without the journey up junkpile mountain in the garage. At least Lincoln got a laugh when an old replica of a British guardsmen's hat fell on his head.
After contending with what could only be described as a kingdom of Daddy-Long-Legs, Lynn Sr. was able to extract Luna's old carseat, a dark purple and black colored seat with little silvery music notes knitted into the fabric. After making 120% sure no residual spider soldiers were left (The things a father does for their child), Lincoln was buckled into the seat and the two were finally off.
"Hey, Squirt, wanna hear some tunes?" Lynn Sr. asked after they pulled out of the driveway.
Lincoln pulled out Bun-Bun from the bag and looked to Lynn Sr., "Okay…"
Lynn Sr. smiled and moved his hand towards his radio, pressing the CD button and lowering the volume seconds before the music blasted out.
The first bit of music that flowed out was a crunchy electric guitar riff, dancing alongside a synthesized keytar melody that crescendoed with it in a bombastic intro. In response to it, Lincoln perked up, like a literal jolt of electric energy was going straight up his spine, jumpstarting his heart into speeding up in a strangely exhilarating way. His eyes stared forward, utterly entranced by the melodic power ballad that cycled through the car, sending powerful reverberations into his carseat and stilling his movements. In Lincoln's mind, a thousand abstract shapes and colors began to dance around in sync to the music, making Lincoln even more invested in it than before.
The previous day, when he rode with his mother and sisters; the music had been more on the pop side. Sure, it was pleasant enough to listen to, and Lincoln found himself enjoying it (though Luna seemed a little less than enthused, he had noticed).
This music though; Lincoln found himself completely and totally immersed in it. Like if he wasn't in his carseat, he would have been lifted off his feet and brought into the sky; it was that mind-blowing to him.
Lynn Sr. laughed when he saw Lincoln's reaction. His big blue eyes absolutely shined in spellbound appreciation, and his little legs kicked in the beat with the bassline of the music.
"Well, well, well," Lynn Sr. loudly laughed, "Looks like I've got a little rocker riding with me today. You like this, Squirt?"
Lincoln nodded blankly, still far too focused on the spiraling tunes filling the car. In his hand, Bun-Bun was beginning to tilt back and forth with the rhythm; seemingly getting into it as much as his owner.
And Lynn Sr. found it adorable! His son shared a musical preference with him! Thus far in his time as a father, only Luna showed any sort of similar musical taste with him. In fact, seeing Lincoln become so entranced with the music, Lynn Sr. recalled a similar event with Luna a few years back. They even kicked their legs the same way!
Lynn Sr. smiled and looked forward, keeping his focus on the road in front of him. My son likes the same music as me! My son! His eyes grew a little misty and he tilted his head to wipe them on the collar of his sweater. My son…
…
"Alright, here we are, Lincoln!" Lynn Sr. twisted the key and pulled it out of the ignition, silencing the rock symphony that they had been enjoying so thoroughly.
Lincoln's legs stilled, and even though the music went in an instant, the fizzling remains of the energy it instilled in him still buzzed in his limbs, making him want to jostle around in his carseat. Once his trance was broken, he lifted his gaze to the window, completely ignored in favor of his music-fueled daydreams.
Outside, a big, square office building loomed over the parking lot they were now parked in, sort of drab brown in color, but not so much so that it seemed like one of those other soul-sucking office spaces one always imagines. Well-trimmed hedges and reddening trees lined the outside of the building, and in the branches of the trees, Lincoln saw a few birds flutter about, chirping up a much more dulcet set of melodies for the world to hear that, while not as energy filled as the music he heard on the drive over, was no less nice to listen to.
Click! Once again, Lincoln was snapped out of his observations and appreciations of the world around him by the sound of the passenger door opening, prompting him to look over at his father.
Lynn Sr. laughed and reached out to undo the buckles of the carseat. "Wow, you sure are a spacy little guy, aren't you, squirt?"
Lincoln blinked, his cheeks tingeing pink as he looked down. "There's a lot of stuff to look at…" He mumbled.
"I agree," Lynn Sr. said, offering Lincoln a warm little smirk. Once the buckles fell away, he reached beneath Lincoln's arms and hoisted him out. "It's a really pretty day, isn't it?" He placed Lincoln on the ground, grateful that the flinch he exhibited was now nearly imperceptible, just a fraction of a wince. "Yup, just beautiful," He said, gazing up at the trees above them.
After taking a moment to marvel at the splendor of the world around him with his son, Lynn Sr. let out a breath and walked over to the trunk of the car, Lincoln following after him in a bouncy little gait. "Makes me wish we could just go to the park and enjoy the day there." He sighed and popped open the car, "But work is calling, and your old man's gotta bring home the bacon."
Lincoln tilted his head, "Old? I don't think you're old, Mister Daddy."
Lynn Sr. chuckled, "Thanks, squirt." He brought up a hand to brush over his curly brown hair, still thankfully only sporting a small bald spot at the crown. "It's good to see I haven't lost track of that sweet bird of youth yet."
Sweet bird of youth? Lincoln looked over to the birds twittering in the tree branches. Could his father be referring to those birds? Lincoln's lips quirked into a thoughtful pout. Adults sure were confusing sometimes.
"Okay! Let's head in!" Lynn Sr. announced, shutting the trunk with a loud thunk, forcing Lincoln into a bit of a startled jump.
Perhaps his father had a point on his spaciness.
Lynn Sr. went over to Lincoln, extending his free hand towards him. "Ready to head into the salt mines, squirt?" He asked.
Lincoln bit his cheek, curiosity nipping at his mind in response to yet another confusing turn of phrase from his father. "Um…Okay," He said, sliding his hand into Lynn's Sr.'s palm.
Lynn Sr. chuckled and brought Lincoln away from the car and towards the office building. Maybe you should cut it with the idioms, Lynn, He told himself. They tend to fly over the heads of most five-year-olds.
Lincoln stared at the translucent glass doors as they approached, trying to ascertain what was inside.
"Just a sec, Lincoln," Lynn Sr. said, pulling his badge from his chest towards a little console on the wall. A quick beep sounded, and the doors moved outward with a whoosh of cool air, eliciting a surprised gasp out of Lincoln.
"Oh, hey there, Lynn!" A jovial voice called out from past the magically opened doors.
"Hey there, Mr. Frederick!" Lynn Sr. replied just as cheerily. He moved into the lobby with Lincoln bouncing at his side, stepping onto the white tiled floor and towards the front desk.
A portly man with a bushy beard beamed at Lynn Sr., "Cutting it kinda close today, ain't ya, Lynn? You ain't trying to play hookey, are you?"
Lynn Sr. chuckled, "Not today, Mr. Frederick. I actually had to take a little extra time to get ready today." He squeezed Lincoln's hand and looked down at him, matching his warm brown eyes with Lincoln's curious light blue ones, "What with this lovely little bit of company I have with me today."
Lincoln blushed and looked down, squeezing his father's hand in return. Now both his parents had said nice things about him to other people. Did they really enjoy spending time with him? Mister Daddy did have to carry quite a few bags because of him…
"Oh, that's right!" Mr. Frederick exclaimed. He poked his head over the top of the desk, getting a look at Lincoln past his thick, coke-bottle glasses, "Today's your day to bring your new little one into the office!"
"That's right!" Lynn Sr. replied with gusto. He gestured between Lincoln and the security guard, "Mr. Frederick, this is Lincoln; Lincoln, say hello to Mr. Frederick."
Lincoln was unable to lift his gaze, but he did manage to stutter out a single solitary, "H-Hello…"
"Hey there, Lincoln," Mr. Frederick said, raising a single hand in greeting. "How are you today?"
"Fine," Lincoln mumbled, shuffling his feet.
"Are you excited to spend the day with your old man?"
Again with that moniker. What was with people calling Lynn Sr. that? "Mister Daddy's not old…" Lincoln gently rebuked.
The two men laughed heartily at that.
"Wow, you really got yourself a good boy there, Lynn," Mr. Frederick guffawed. "Only a few days and he's already making sure no one talks down on you."
Lynn Sr. beamed at Lincoln. "He sure is." He kneeled down to Lincoln, "But you don't have to worry, Lincoln. 'Old man' is just a phrase people use to refer to a daddy. No harm's being done."
Lincoln peered at Lynn Sr. "Can I still call you Mister Daddy?" He asked demurely.
"Of course," Lynn Sr. warmly replied.
Lincoln's eyes glittered appreciatively in response, and he squeezed Lynn Sr.'s hand again.
Mr. Frederick found himself not wanting to interrupt the moment between the fledgling father and son, but a security guard had to do what a security guard had to do. "Uh-hum," He lightly coughed, "I'm guessing your little one is gonna need a guest pass, Lynn?"
"That's right, Mr. Frederick," Lynn Sr. replied, standing up. He briefly released Lincoln's hand, causing Lincoln to try to grab it again for a split second before he pulled it back to his chest shyly.
Lynn Sr. took the little piece of paper handed to him, grabbing a pen inside a cup beside him. He clicked the pen and brought it to the paper, writing down his son's name.
Lincoln L—He stopped after he finished Lincoln's first name, only getting in the first letter of his own surname.
Had any of them really called Lincoln by their name? Had Lincoln registered that he was now a Loud? Lynn Sr. looked down at the paper, looking at the lone letter "L" standing tall against Lincoln's name.
Was it right for Lynn Sr. to put his name on him so soon? This was only his third day with him.
"Mister Daddy?" Then, with the feeling of a tiny hand tugging on his sweater, he was brought into looking down from the paper
Lincoln gazed up at him from his spot down by his knee. His lips were drawn down in a concerned little pout, matching the nervous glimmer in his eyes. "Is everything okay?" He asked tremulously.
Lynn Sr. smiled and brought a hand down to ruffle Lincoln's hair reassuringly.
Mister Daddy and Missus Mommy. What strange names for a child to call their parents, but in Lincoln's case, it was understandable; this was all new territory for all of them. Neither he nor Rita had given the boy life, neither of them had been present for his birth, they hadn't even known he existed until Reggie informed them of his need for a family. Still, despite that, he, his wife, and his girls all believed they had what it took to give him the family he so sorely needed.
And judging by his carefully constructed monikers for the two of them, Lincoln thought so too, at least partly.
Lynn Sr. knew his answer.
"Everything's fine, squirt," He replied, turning back to the paper. "Just filling out your guest pass.
Lincoln Loud
"Now," He said, taking the paper and kneeling down to Lincoln's level. "We just take this off here—" He peeled the sticky bit of the pass from its back. "And we just put it on your shirt. You mind letting me do that, Lincoln?"
Lincoln looked at the pass, then lowered his arms, closing his eyes as he stepped towards his father. "O-Okay," He said.
Lynn Sr. smiled and carefully brought the sticker against the front of Lincoln's shirt. "There we go," He said, smoothing the sticker down. "Now you're practically an employee yourself, just like Daddy!"
Lincoln's eyes popped open and he looked down at the nametag, taking in the upside-down letters and tilting his head to try and look at them. "What's it say?" He asked.
"Why, that's your name, squirt!" Lynn Sr. replied. He brought a finger and traced it over the two words, "See? Lincoln Loud. That's your name."
Lincoln studied the letters, turning the fabric the sticker clung to so he could see the words right-side up. "Lincoln Loud?" He looked at Lynn Sr. "Loud? The same as you?"
"That's right!" Lynn Sr. said with a happy nod. "You like it?"
Lincoln blushed and released the sticker. "Uh-huh," He mumbled, looking down.
And suddenly, Lynn Sr. all but forgot about the bags he was carrying. "Well, great!" He said, scooping Lincoln into his arms and lifting him up, bringing a gasp out of the boy that thankfully went no further than a moment of wide-eyed surprise. "Because that's who you are, squirt: Lincoln Loud!"
Lincoln relaxed, and his hand gripped the shoulder of Lynn Sr.'s sweater. "I—Um…" He looked down again, blushing deeper. "Thank you, Mister Daddy."
"Congrats again, Lynn," Mr. Frederick said, his heart warmed by the moment unfolding before him. "Your son seems wonderful."
"He is wonderful," Lynn Sr. declared.
The father and son regarded each other for a moment, silently strengthening their bond as they stared into each other's eyes; Lincoln's bright blue into Lynn Sr.'s comforting brown.
And Lynn Sr. felt overjoyed when the same thought that he had in the car came to his mind once again.
This was his son. He was holding his son.
…
"Oh, Lynn, your little boy is just darling!"
"Way to go, Lynn! You finally got another little dude in that house with you!"
"Congrats on finally getting a little bit of an edge on that X chromosome, Lynnster!"
"Welcome to the building, little dude!"
There were quite a few more people in the office building that Lynn Sr. worked at than Dr. Finestein's office. It seems like with every step Lynn Sr. took, there was another co-worker coming out to congratulate him for his new son, unknowingly adding to Lincoln's anxiety.
It eventually got so bad, that by the time the two of them got to Lynn Sr.'s cubicle, he had to gently rebuke his co-workers so that the little one now curled against his chest could glean a moment to calm down.
"Alright, thanks for the congratulations, everyone, but I got quotas and whatnot to meet, talk to you later!" Lynn Sr. brought the little sliding door shut, giving him and Lincoln an opaque barrier between him and the rest of the office. In the silence that came, Lynn Sr. let out a breath and leaned against the side of the cubicle, bringing a hand to rub Lincoln's trembling back.
"Are they gone?" Lincoln asked.
"It's just you and me again," Lynn Sr. answered in a whisper. "Don't worry, son; nobody meant you any harm." He chuckled when Lincoln's turkey tail tickled his neck with his next shiver.
"There was a lot of people," Lincoln quailed.
Lynn Sr. bounced Lincoln a little bit in his arms, "Try not to hold it against them. It's not very often we get visitors around here." He smiled and tilted his head so he could look at Lincoln, "Especially visitors as adorable as you!"
Lincoln tinged pink and curled up into a little bit tighter of a ball in his father's arms. "Thank you…" He mumbled.
Lynn Sr. smirked and bounced Lincoln a little more for good measure, "Now, what say we get settled? We want to get as much work done as possible, don't we?"
Lincoln just nodded in response.
Not long after, and with a little bit of awkward shuffling because of the cubicle's tiny square footage, both father and son were sitting at the desk inside, with Lynn Sr. typing away on his office issued laptop in his own chair, and Lincoln coloring away in his coloring book, using a filing cabinet as a seat for himself with Bun-Bun squished between his chest against the edge of the desk.
It was quiet for a while after that, with only the sounds of Lynn Sr.'s typing and Lincoln's little scratchy coloring noises being heard by the two of them. It was quiet, but it was pleasant, so neither one of them found anything to really complain about, simply smiling at one another whenever they happened to make eye contact (Lincoln doing so much more bashfully).
When Lincoln had finished coloring another page, this one bearing the image of something called a Pikachu, he lowered his crayon and looked up.
That's when he caught sight of them. Strewn all over the walls, several dozen sheets of paper decorated Lynn Sr.'s cubicle walls. On all of them, drawings of various skill levels brought a splash of color to the beige surroundings, each one bearing a name, a cute drawing of a heart, and two people, one a girl and the other being someone bearing a striking resemblance to Lynn Sr.
"Mister Daddy?" Lincoln queried.
"What's up, squirt?" Lynn Sr. replied, looking away from his laptop screen in favor of Lincoln.
Lincoln lifted his good hand towards the drawings. "What're those?" He asked.
Lynn Sr. followed Lincoln's finger, grinning from ear to ear when he saw what he was pointing at. "Those? Those are a bunch of drawings your sisters have made for me!"
He stood up and took several of the drawings down, presenting them to Lincoln. "They've made these for me over the years," He explained, pointing to each of the drawings. "Lori gave me this one when she was your age. It's me giving her a piggyback ride. This one is from Leni after she put some makeup on me one time. Here's one from Luan as a thank you for me building her a little puppet show theatre some time back. Oh, this one is me and LJ playing catch! And here's Luna playing my cowbell and her xylophone together!"
The zeal Lynn Sr. felt reminiscing over those drawings was not lost on Lincoln. The way he fawned over those little scribbles, those little collections of scraggly lines with all the love of an immensely proud father filled Lincoln with a sort of secondary warmth, and with that warmth, Lincoln suddenly felt the inklings of an idea form.
"Um…Mister Daddy?" Lincoln interrupted Lynn Sr.'s gushing over his daughter's drawings, shyly reaching out a hand to lay a few fingers over one of the identical phrases on the drawings. "What do these words say?"
Lynn Sr. stopped and traced his fingers next to Lincoln's. "These? It says, 'to daddy'."
"And this?" Lincoln asked further, his little fingers drifting down below the heart that was next to the words "to daddy".
"That's the girl's signatures," Lynn Sr. explained. "See? Here, it says, 'Lori'. And here, 'Luan'. Get it?"
"I think so…" Lincoln said with a nod. He bit his cheek, mulling over the thoughts stirring in his head.
"Any other questions?" Lynn Sr. chuckled, finding Lincoln's thoughtful little expression rather endearing.
Lincoln shook his head, "I don't think so." He regarded Lynn Sr., his face shifting more towards gratitude laced with the barest trace of determination. "Thank you, Mister Daddy."
Lynn Sr. beamed at Lincoln, "No problem, squirt. You need anything else?"
"No, I'm just gonna color some more," Lincoln replied, gripping his crayon again.
"Alrighty then," Lynn Sr. said, standing back up to tack the pictures back to the wall. Industrious little guy, ain't ya, Lincoln?
Unbeknownst to Lynn Sr., that industriousness was about to result in something truly wonderful.
Lincoln turned to the end of one of his coloring books, finding a single blank page bereft of any kind of linework or pre-existing picture. Just what he needed!
As carefully as he could do so without attracting his father's attention, Lincoln eyed the words on the other drawings, committing the shapes of the letters to memory and procuring a mental image to put upon the paper.
…
"You like your grub, Lincoln?" Lynn Sr. asked from his side of the table.
"Mmhmm!" Lincoln hummed with a happy nod. "This is a really tasty lunch, Mister Daddy!"
"Haha! Happy to hear it, squirt!" Lynn Sr. laughed.
There on the sunlit veranda of the office building, Lynn Sr. and Lincoln dined on a pair of sandwiches, Lynn Sr.'s being a simple egg salad sandwich, with Lincoln's being a ham and cheese one. On the side, Lynn Sr. had cut up a generous portion of cucumber slices for the both of them, with a water bottle to drink for him, and a juice box for Lincoln.
And thankfully for Lynn Sr., Lincoln was eating at a fairly relaxed pace. No chance of a stomachache here.
He was grateful that they had managed to avoid that with Lincoln thus far. According to Reggie, when Lincoln had been first taken away from his previous living situation, he had been so malnourished that he had practically inhaled anything given to him, resulting in his poor unprepared stomach to forcefully expel whatever he ate not long after, causing the little one to lose whatever chance at obtaining sustenance he had, and imposing further suffering on someone who had suffered far too much already.
It was an unfortunate side effect of being starved for who knows how long, deprived of even the barest of basic nutritional care.
And it had made Lynn Sr.'s blood absolutely boil. To think that this poor little thing sitting across from him could be deprived of anything, let alone a good meal was positively unacceptable to him. Children shouldn't have to scrounge for scraps in a dirty apartment; probably eating stale, expired food that wasn't fit for a mouse. Children should have good food, prepared with love.
That's what he had promised to do when they took Lincoln into their home; provide the little one with all the good, filling meals he had missed out on in his first few years of life.
He was happy with his efforts thus far. Lincoln had shown a great amount of appreciation for everything he had made, and none of those foods had caused any unpleasant rumbles within his stomach.
Even better in that regard, Lynn Sr. had already gotten a chance to cook with his new son! That little stint at making dinner the previous night had been so utterly wondrous for Lynn Sr. that he knew he would have to try and have Lincoln join him again in the hopefully not too distant future.
"Hey, Lynn, didja manage to get that one case that's been bothering us closed?" Suddenly, a rather bored sounding voice pulled Lynn Sr.'s attention off of Lincoln and towards the owner of said voice.
Standing by the table, a man around the same age as Lynn Sr. stood in between the father and son. His stance betrayed no sense of actual interest in the conversation, and in one hand, his phone stole his primary focus, while in the other, a lit cigarette wafted little wisps of smoke into the air.
"Oh, hello, Steven," Lynn Sr. said politely, but a little irritably. "No, the Johnson case is still open. We're still waiting to hear back from the storefront on how they want to mediate."
Steven groaned and brought his cigarette to his lips, taking a long, glowing drag. "For cripes sake, can't these guys at the storefront hurry it up already? Don't they know we have to deal with the customer's bellyachin' on our end?"
Lynn Sr. frowned, "Well, we can only try and keep the goodwill between the two parties, can't we?" He sucked in a sigh and gestured towards the other end of the table. "Anyway, have you met my so—"
His words came to an abrupt halt when he saw Lincoln.
Lincoln had his good hand over his mouth and nose, suddenly looking several shades paler with a faint green tint to his cheeks.
Lincoln? What happene— His thoughts crystallized into an answer when he noticed Lincoln doing his absolute best to not look at the cigarette in Steven's hand. The smoke! That's right, his mother was a smoker! He realized in horror.
"I tell ya," Steven said, completely disregarding that Lynn Sr. was speaking, "Sometimes I find myself wondering why we put up this junk. Gotta do what we gotta do to put food on the table for our little brats back home, don't we, Ly—"
"Steven," Lynn Sr. cut him off. "Would you mind not smoking? There's a child present."
"Wha?" Steven looked down at Lincoln, apparently noticing him for the first time. "You serious?" He said with a scoff. "It's just a little smoke. My old man used to smoke two packs a day in front of me and I turned out fine."
"Steven," Lynn Sr. said again, a firm edge creeping into his voice. "My son is clearly uncomfortable with the smell. Can you please either put it out or walk away? I'll be happy to discuss further work matters with you at another time."
Steven appeared a little put off, but he yielded to Lynn Sr. and walked away with a scoff, mumbling a not so subtle, "Jeez, it's all about his kids with this guy…"
Lynn Sr. would've glared at his retreating back for that, but he had an increasingly green little one to tend to. "You okay, squirt?" He asked, moving from his chair to kneel next to Lincoln.
Lincoln gulped, contesting both with his heaving stomach and a few unpleasantly monstrous images coming to his mind with the smell that still lingered.
"Here, why don't you drink some of your juice, that'll help you feel better," Lynn Sr. said, grabbing the juicebox and presenting it to Lincoln.
Lincoln brought his shaky hand away from his mouth, grabbing the juicebox emblazoned with a prismatic apple and bringing the straw to his lips. The sweet taste of the juice dispelled the images lancing through his mind and as it fell into his belly, the spasms that had plagued him grew still.
"There we go…" Perhaps more helpfully, Lynn Sr.'s soothing timbre brought him down from the moment of heightened anxiety as well, bringing him back to the warm veranda they had been enjoying their lunch at. "Just relax, Lincoln, everything's fine…"
The juicebox shrank in Lincoln's hand, and just before he was completely out of juice, he pulled the box away, taking a breath he hadn't known he had been holding.
"You okay?" Lynn Sr. asked concernedly.
Lincoln nodded solemnly. "Thank you…" He mumbled, looking down. "I don't like that smell."
"Yeah, it's a yucky smell," Lynn Sr. agreed. "Don't worry though, I'll make sure no one makes it around you, okay?"
"Okay…" Lincoln said.
It really hurt Lynn Sr., seeing the happy little one go right back to his reserved, withdrawn self. He had been so cheery just a minute before, munching on the lunch his father had put so much care into preparing, simple as it may have been.
I think it's time for dessert, Lynn Sr. decided with a determined little nod. "Hey, Lincoln," He said, standing up. "You wanna try a specialty of mine? It's a Loud family treasure, loved by all your sisters and an exceedingly rare commodity when you have five siblings."
Lincoln perked up and looked at Lynn Sr. as he rooted through their shared lunch bag. "A 'specalty'?" He mispronounced.
Lynn Sr. chuckled and pulled out a small plastic bowl filled with a sort of bright orange paste. "Yup, a specialty! Lincoln, get ready to try my famous peach puree!" He flipped the top off the bowl and set it in front of Lincoln, "Every one of your sisters swear by its deliciousness, and I'm sure you will, too! That's why I made a fresh batch last night after I put you and LJ to bed."
Lincoln eyed the goopy orangeness before him. It certainly smelled good! Fruity and sweet to his nose, Lincoln was grateful just to have a perfect counter to the bitter disgustingness of the cigarette that had just permeated the air. So, when a little plastic spoon was placed next to the bowl by his father, Lincoln wasted no time in scooping up a tiny dollop to partake in the latest delicacy provided to him, just barely giving Lynn Sr. enough time to pull out his phone to record the occasion.
For all of Lynn Sr.'s previous children, the delicious peach puree had been first enjoyed by them as babies, and they'd all reacted some variant of the same way, squealing with happiness and flailing their little arms about in their highchairs.
Lincoln was different. Lincoln was five years old, several years beyond what Lynn Sr.'s biological children were the first time they sampled the tried-and-true dessert. What would his reaction be?
Lincoln didn't disappoint. The second the puree's taste hit him, his eyes lit up like fireworks had been set off in them, shining like jewels bathed in iridescent sunlight. His whole body perked up and a silly little smile played across his lips. Then, like lightning had run through him, he began kicking his legs beneath the table in an erratic little bounce of happiness.
"MMMM!" Lincoln let out a praising hum of approval and immediately began shoveling more of the fruity delicacy in between his lips.
Lynn Sr. laughed joyously in response, keeping his phone's camera on the hyperactive boy exuberantly eating his lovingly crafted dessert. "Whoa, whoa, slow down there, squirt!" He said. "We don't want you getting a tummyache, do we?"
"But it's so good!" Lincoln exclaimed, following his father's advice and slowing down a smidge, "Everything you make is so good! You make the bestest food in the world, Mister Daddy!"
Lynn Sr. was so glad he was recording, because he knew he'd not only be showing that video to Rita that night, but that he would cherish it for years to come.
…
"Mister Daddy?"
Lynn Sr. perked up and looked away from his computer. The Johnson case could wait. "Yes, Lincoln?" He asked.
Lincoln looked down, pressing and crinkling the piece of paper he was holding against his chest. "Um, I made something for you," He quavered.
"You did?!" Lynn Sr. said, lilting his voice to show surprise. "Well, let's see it!"
Lincoln blushed and his shoulder's shuffled somewhat before he pushed the paper toward Lynn Sr. "I wanted to make you something like the girls did for you. I hope I did a good job…"
Lynn Sr. took the paper and turned it over.
His heart was filled to near bursting then and there.
On the paper, a crude, but undeniably adorable drawing of Lincoln and Lynn Sr. cooking together shone out to him. Lincoln sat on the counter, an orange stick figure with a scribble of white on his round head while Lynn Sr. stood in front of the stove and pots, a green and brown stick figure with a scribble of brown on his head. Both figures smiled out at Lynn Sr., an absolutely heartwarming representation of the night in the kitchen before.
Perhaps best of all, beneath the drawing on the left-bottom corner, a scraggle of a signature, made in bright blue with a red heart identical to all the ones the girls put on their drawings gleamed bright.
"To Daddy. (Heart) Lincoln Loud"
"Lincoln…" Lynn Sr.'s eyes misted over.
"Oh no, did I make you sad?" Lincoln asked, his nerves scratching at his mind in light of his father's misty eyes.
"No, not at all…" Lynn Sr. said, biting his lip and taking a quick, sniffly breath. "This is wonderful, Lincoln. Absolutely wonderful!" He looked to Lincoln, slowly relaxing after hearing his praises. "I didn't know you could write. When did you learn?"
Lincoln shook his head, "I didn't. I still don't know how. I just copied off the girls' drawings and this thingie." The aforementioned "thingie" was Lincoln's nametag, tapped on by the boy as he explained. "Did I do it right?" He asked, looking up at Lynn Sr. expectantly.
"Oh, Lincoln, yes!" Lynn Sr. reached out to ruffle Lincoln's hair, earning him a small smile from the boy, "You did great! That is so impressive!" He brought his hand back so he could hold the drawing with both hands again. "You are a very, very smart boy, squirt!"
Lincoln's smile broadened just a little bit. His family had told him he was smart several times now. Did that mean he could actually start taking it to heart?
Oh, my… Meanwhile, Lynn Sr. couldn't take his eyes off the picture. Three days with Lincoln and he had already gotten a gift from him. His mother really didn't deserve him, He thought somewhat bitterly. Someone this gifted and this thoughtful really deserves a proper family.
"Mister Daddy?" Again, Lincoln called out to him. When Lynn Sr. looked over the paper, Lincoln twiddled his fingers anxiously. "So…do you like it?"
"Lincoln…Son, I love it!" Lynn Sr. declared. He stood up, "And you know what? This is going right on the wall, right with the rest of your siblings' drawings."
Lincoln's heart skipped a beat, "Really? With the other girls' drawings?"
"That's right!" Lynn Sr. bombastically answered. He took a few thumbtacks, "Right here with everyone else. I wanna be able to look at this beautiful drawing my son made whenever I can!" And to prove his point, he put two thumbtacks through two corners of the paper, being sure to only pierce the empty whiteness so not to put any holes in the drawing itself. "And I want to be able to show my co-workers how talented my son is as well!"
That word rang in Lincoln's ears. Son. Son. Son.
He had never had a father before, just two mothers, and one of them had been beyond horrible with him. Truth be told, he had been afraid fathers would be the same, just a bunch of brutes who would sooner smack him to the ground than show anything resembling affection to him. However, over those first few days in the Loud house, he had come to find himself willing to put a tentative trust in his new parents; and when his previous day with Rita had proven itself so great, he had been looking forward to his day with his father with cautious excitement. There was still a little bit of fear there, there was no doubt about that, but he was willing to face it with a little bit more of a brave face.
Here and now, seeing Lynn Sr. hang up his drawing like it was the most prized treasure in the world, that fear disappeared, and instead, his eyes began to well up with tears.
"Lincoln?" Lynn Sr. pushed the tacks in, securing the drawing before he crouched down to Lincoln, "Lincoln, buddy, what's wrong?"
"N-Nothing," Lincoln whimpered, bringing his good arm to wipe his eyes, "I-I'm happy. You're so nice to me. You're all so nice to me."
"Of course we are," Lynn Sr. said, smiling as kindly as he could. His heart cracked with the implication of Lincoln's words. Simple kindness and praise shouldn't be enough to reduce a person to tears like this. "Lincoln, you're part of our family now." He almost brought his arms around him, but stopped when he remembered the boy's aversion to hugs. Instead, he took a chance and gently pried Lincoln's arm away from his face so he could take his little hand into his own. "There's no reason to be surprised at that. Family is supposed to be nice to each other. Just like you were nice to me by giving me this beautiful drawing."
Lincoln sniffled and squeezed one of Lynn Sr.'s fingers, "Still…I—I'm happy because of today. You made me really happy today, Mister Daddy…"
Lynn Sr. smiled a pure, filled-to-the-brim with warmth smile. "Well of course, Lincoln," He said, bringing his other hand to fold it over Lincoln's, clasping it in gentle affection, "That's what daddies are supposed to do. And I am your daddy now, remember?"
And Lincoln nodded, his whole being growing warm with the acceptance of Lynn Sr.'s words.
He had a daddy. Lynn Loud Sr. was his daddy.