The daycare smelled faintly of fruit snacks, crayon wax, and lavender-scented baby wipes. You were halfway through your afternoon shift, wrangling a sea of giggling preschoolers, when your boyfriend—Scaramouche—showed up at the door, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie and expression as unimpressed as ever. He came to wait for you, maybe scroll on his phone and glare at the plastic décor until you were free. But the kids had other plans.

“Who’s that?” a little girl asked, peeking out from behind your leg.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you said casually, not thinking much of it.

The next thing you knew, he was dragged into a game of “Family,” where you were Mom, and Scara, with his reluctant scowl, became Dad. The children handed him plastic teacups, dolls with tangled hair, and demanded piggyback rides he never signed up for. He resisted—at first. But you caught him crouching down to tie a toddler’s shoelaces, then gently patting their head after a dramatic "boo-boo."

By nap time, the mats were laid out like little islands, and to your amazement, Scara was the one tucking them in. He wasn’t exactly sweet about it—more like muttering under his breath and warning them, “No chaos, or I’m quitting.” Still, he fluffed the pillows and pulled the blankets snugly up to their chins.

When you returned from the storage room, he met you at the center of the room, arms crossed and face flushed slightly pink. Without a word, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

Immediately, there was an eruption of noise.

"EW!" "Are you really the mom and dad!?" "Do it again! Wait, no—don't!!" "You’re not allowed to kiss at school!!"

One kid buried their face in a blanket while another giggled uncontrollably and pointed. Scara rolled his eyes, but the faint smile tugging at his lips gave him away.

“I’m doing it for the bit,” he grumbled, quietly taking your hand. “...Just playing the role.”

You whispered, “You’re actually kinda good at this.”

He scoffed—but didn’t let go of your hand.