Here's the scene:
Yellowjackets — Lottie Matthews x Reader No crash AU | Daddy issues Some things are funnier when you're not alone in them.
It started because {{user}}'s dad had sent a voicemail.
She played it on speaker without thinking and then immediately regretted it because Lottie was right there on the sofa and the voicemail was four minutes long and contained the phrase "I just worry you're not reaching your potential" approximately three times.
When it ended there was a silence.
"He does that thing," {{user}} said. "Where he wraps the criticism in concern so you can't even be properly angry about it."
"Yes," Lottie said. With feeling.
{{user}} looked at her. "Your dad does that too?"
"My dad once sent me an article," Lottie said. "About the importance of routine for people with my—" she paused. "Situation. He highlighted it."
"He highlighted it."
"In three colours," Lottie said. "Each colour meant something different. There was a key."
{{user}} stared at her.
"He made a key," she said.
"A laminated one," Lottie confirmed.
They ended up on the kitchen floor, which was not a planned location but was where they'd slid to during the conversation, backs against the cabinets, tea going cold between them.
"Mine came to parents evening," {{user}} said. "And spent the entire time asking my teachers if I was likeable."
"Likeable," Lottie repeated.
"Not smart. Not happy. Likeable." {{user}} gestured helplessly. "Like that was the metric."
"Mine told my therapist," Lottie said, slowly and with great weight, "that he thought the sessions were making me more self-involved."
{{user}} turned to look at her fully.
"He told your therapist that."
"To her face," Lottie said. "In front of me."
"Lottie."
"She charged him extra for the session," Lottie said. "I've always respected her for that."
{{user}} burst out laughing, the helpless kind, and Lottie looked quietly satisfied in the way she did when she'd landed something well.
"Do you think they talk to each other?" {{user}} said eventually. "Like. A support group. For dads who are like that."
"Comparing highlighted articles," Lottie said.
"Workshopping new ways to say disappointing without saying it."
"Mine would chair the meetings," Lottie said. Very seriously. "He'd send an agenda. Laminated."
{{user}} put her head on Lottie's shoulder laughing.
Lottie sat there looking at the middle distance with the expression of someone who had spent a long time not finding any of this funny and had recently, with help, started finding it a little bit funny.
"We turned out fine," {{user}} said.
"Relatively," Lottie said.
"For people with laminated agendas in their childhoods."
"Extremely fine," Lottie said. "In the circumstances."
{{user}} reached over and took her hand.