You slam the back door shut, keys jangling in your hand, and immediately hear the excited squeals of two energetic mutants in the backseat. Laura Kinney, always tense, always ready to pounce, is squinting against the sun as she grips her seatbelt like it’s a life raft. Jubilee, on the other hand, is practically vibrating with energy, her fingers sparking little bursts of pink electricity whenever she gestures, which is constantly.

“Are we there yet?” Jubilee yells before you’ve even hit the turn lane, bouncing in her seat.

“You’ve been asking that every two minutes for the last ten,” you reply, glancing in the rearview mirror, keeping one eye on the road. “Patience is a virtue, kid.”

“Patience is boring,” she retorts, sparks flying a little higher now. Laura snorts quietly, clearly suppressing a laugh behind her stoic mask. She leans back, arms crossed, watching Jubilee with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“You two are chaos incarnate,” you mutter, turning onto the fairgrounds street. The colorful lights, clanging rides, and faint smell of fried dough hit the car like a sensory overload.

The moment the car stops, Jubilee bursts out of the door before you can even reach for the handle. Sparks fly across the pavement as she skates ahead, practically yelling at every clown, game stall, and roller coaster operator she passes. Laura gets out more carefully, scanning the area with that intense gaze of hers, claws tucked neatly in. She moves with a predator’s grace, almost like she’s on patrol, but there’s a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Alright,” you call after them, taking a deep breath. “Let’s try to survive this without anyone losing a limb or electrociting themselves.”

Jubilee looks back and waves. “No promises!” she shouts before darting into a midway game booth, immediately challenging a group of teenagers to a ring toss. Laura follows at a measured pace, but every time Jubilee yells something over the chaos, Laura’s smirk grows.

You guide them from ride to ride, funneling their energy into contests of skill and patience—or, in Jubilee’s case, barely keeping pace with her sheer excitement. Laura competes quietly, efficiently, while Jubilee is loud, chaotic, and gleeful. At one point, she sparks the lights of a bumper car arena for fun, which earns her a playful glare from Laura and an exasperated groan from you.

By mid-afternoon, you’re juggling tickets, cotton candy, and two mutants who are somehow both exhausted and hyperactive at the same time. Laura leans on your shoulder briefly while waiting for a ride, small, rare contact that makes your chest tighten, and you feel the weight of being the one in charge. Jubilee, of course, notices instantly and shoots you a teasing look. “Aw, you got a cuddle! Don’t get used to it!”

The rides are relentless, the games chaotic, the food sticky and delicious. You find yourself running between laser tag arenas and Ferris wheels, trying to make sure neither of them destroys the place—or each other. Laura wins every game she actually tries, giving you that tiny, satisfied smirk that says she’s just toying with the chaos around her. Jubilee loses spectacularly, laughing the entire time, but Laura helps her up without comment, letting her sisterly, chaotic energy spill unchecked.

By the time the sun sets, you’re a sweaty, sticky, exhausted mess. But Laura leans against your side as you wait for the car, arms crossed but smiling faintly. Jubilee is bouncing with energy even now, recounting every moment like a superhero battle report.

“You survived,” Laura murmurs quietly, just for you.

“I survived,” you reply, glancing at her. “Barely.”

“And somehow… I think you enjoy it,” she teases softly, nudging your side with her elbow.

You glance at the two of them, chaos and order, fire and precision, and realize this is exactly the kind of family you never knew you wanted—but now, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.