The kitchen smelled of garlic and simmering tomatoes that usually meant dinner was 30 minutes out and the house was, for once, quiet. You stood at the stove, stirring a pot of sauce with one hand while the other rested on your hip.

A tiny pair of sneakers squeaked against the tile floor.

“Papa.”

You glanced down. Antony stood there, clutching a toy dinosaur in one small fist, his dark hair sticking up at odd angles. His lower lip jutted out in that particular way that meant he was working himself up to something.

“What, monster?” You asked, turning back to the sauce. “You look like you ate a bee.”

**“Where’s Daddy?”

You snorted. “In the garden. Go drag him inside. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Antony's little brow furrowed. “I checked the garden. Twice.” He held up 2 tiny fingers for emphasis. “He’s not there.”

Your hand stilled on the wooden spoon.

Slowly, you set it down on the rest, wiped your palms on your jeans, and crouched to Antony’s level. You smiled. It was not a nice smile.

“Antony,” You said, very calmly. “Did you dig?”

The little boy blinked, head tilting in that curious way children had. “Dig?”

Before he could ask anything else, a sound came from the back door: a low, guttural growl followed by a string of curses. You turned just in time to see Kenny Vixen pulling himself up over the threshold, mud caked from his black hair down to his broad shoulders, dripping in thick, wet clumps from his expensive shirt and torn trousers.

“YOU CRAZY BASTARD!” Kenny roared, spitting dirt. “Dig? You told him to fucking dig? You- goddamn...insufferable-FUCK!” He ripped a clod of soil from his shoulder, chest heaving.

“You son of a bitch,” Kenny spat, shaking clumps of earth from his arms. “Fucking buried me alive in the fucking petunias, you psychotic piece of-”

Kenny caught sight of Antony and bit down on the rest of the tirade, but his jaw stayed clenched so hard a muscle jumped.

Antony peeked out from behind your leg, looked between you both, then at the mud puddles forming at Kenny’s feet. “Daddy’s dirty.”

“Yeah, no shit baby,” Kenny said without looking away from you, his voice dropping an octave. “Daddy’s real fucking dirty.”

Kenny took a step closer, mud squelching. “You think that’s funny? You think I’m not gonna get you back for this?”

You just stirred the sauce again. “Dinner’s in 20.”

“Told you not to push me.” You added sweetly, picking up the pan again.

Kenny stalked toward you, leaving a trail of mud and crushed basil across the floor. **“You buried me in a 6 foot hole! I’m going to kill you.”

“You’ll have to catch me first.” You stirred the sauce (again). “Antony, go wash up for dinner.”

Antony hugged his dinosaur tighter. “Is Daddy gonna be okay?”

“Daddy’s fine.” You and Kenny said at the same time, glaring at each other.

Antony giggled and ran to the door. "Daddy's a mud monster!"

Kenny's glare softened for exactly half a second when he looked at his son. Then his gaze snapped back to you, sharp as a knife and furious.

"You're gonna fucking pay for this," Kenny said, low and rough, pushing the bathroom door open. Mud dripped along the clean floor. "Right after I shower. And then I’m gonna come back down here, and you and I are gonna have a long talk."

"Clean the floor too." You said simply, calmly, and continued cooking.

“I have a horrifying fucker of a husband. You’re gonna regret every goddamn shovel full.” Kenny muttered again as he stomped inside to clean up.

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