Shirtless as usual, exposing his slender, but muscular physique and most of his many tattoos, his long legs in sweatpants which hung low on his narrow hips, Blaine turned to the coffeemaker and started pouring, when a teen girl appeared next to him, her symmetrical and pretty face with almost model-like features framed by long, perfectly styled hair the same shade of dark brown as Blaine’s.
“Dad … daaaaaad! Come on! Pleeease …” his 16-year-old daughter Fallon dragged, slightly pouting, evidently continuing a conversation.
“NO!” he said, turning his back to her, when the same face appeared on his other side, the only thing that gave away that it was not the same girl, but her identical twin sister Blythe, was the different clothing, even though both wore expensive designer clothing, something most girls their age only knew from glamour magazines.
“Daddyyyy pretty pretty pleeeease…” she tried her luck now, but their father was no stranger to his youngest daughters tag-teaming him, turned again and broke through the middle, almost running into yet another very obviously related young teen, his youngest child, 14-year-old son Gavin.
“NO!” he told him as he walked past him, the twins in his wake.
“Huh? I didn’t even say anything …” Gavin protested, shaking his head, before pouring himself some coffee.
“Well, book it as response bank credit for me as a future ‘no’ for whatever bullshit you dream up next then! We both know it’s gonna happen.” Blaine told him, taking a sip of his coffee.
A small, black dog appeared, looking up at Blaine, panting happily, tail wagging.
“You – most definitely no! To everything! Don’t even blink – you!” Blaine ranted, causing the dog to slowly close his mouth to stare at Blaine with a sort of ‘WTF is wrong with you now?!‘ expression, while the wagging froze.
“Blaine – don’t be mean to sweet George-y! Come here my sweet puppy.” another beauty appeared, Scarlett, the mother of the twins and the boy, scooping the small dog up into her arms, snuggling him, which he visibly enjoyed.
“Mean? That little doggo-ho! Out of a million dogs in this world, he just HAD to knock up my mother’s priced pedigreed poodle. ANY other dog I wouldn’t even bat an eye at, but NO, he had to go for mom’s Peach! My goddamn ears are still only held on by a threat after her tongue-lashing! Man, she was mad! For a moment I seriously thought she’d go van Helsing on my ass! All because of you, George, you slut puppy!” Blaine told George in Scarlett’s arms, while scratching his head, trying to hide a smile.
“If you’re looking to place blame, you need to look at yourself! Nobody expects George to think about consequences, but I hold YOU responsible, just as your mother does. So far I have made three appointments to have George neutered … but you found ways to torpedo every single one!” Scarlett started, but a quick raised index finger by Blaine silenced her with a smile.
“Do not even utter those terrible words! My poor little furry best friend isn’t getting his gonads chopped off on my watch! I would never betray him like that! Bro-code goes for man and his four-legged best friend too. I shall protect my dog and his twig and berries best I can and I am sure he would do the same for me!”
“Blaine – unless you are volunteering to put a little condom on your dog every time we spend any amount of time around any female dogs, the neutering is happening and this time I am taking him, no matter what rouses you start! I won’t even tell you the time and date!” Scarlett warned.
“Yeah dad, take notice. If you piss off mom or grandma enough, you get your nuts cut off. You sure you still got yours? Knowing you, those went years ago and have been sitting in a glass on mom’s nightstand since. If you ask nicely, she may let you have them for a few hours.” chuckled Gavin, who now received Blaine’s middle finger salute.
“Blaine! Please do not flip off our teen son! We are supposed to teach him conflict resolution, not filth and gutter behavior! Gavin, do NOT do this! It is not appropriate behavior! Neither is what you just said. We are your parents, not your friends. You can tell and ask us anything and everything, but with respect.”
“Letty, he’s a Cameron. From our side of that family tree. He was born with a gutter mouth and dirty mind! They all were. It’s genetic!”
“I don’t curse! And I don’t have a dirty mind!” protested Blythe.
“Me either!” agreed Fallon.
“Well, you two are only conditional Camerons. Once you two become women, daddy is gonna be all forgotten about, because some cute boys will come along and turn your heads, buy you some big, blinding rocks, hit one knee while stuttering some incoherent BS which is supposed to be a proposal and before I am ready you become whatever they are. Cameron no more. Boo! Unless you marry your second cousin like your oldest sister did, at least she’s still a Cameron now.” Blaine smirked.
“Oh, really, Blaine? I’d like to inform you that I still am very much a Vatore in heart, mind and blood, even if I may have taken your last name. So, no sweet girls, don’t listen to your daddy, obviously he is just babbling incoherently. Hasn’t even had his first coffee yet.”
“Yeah, right mom. Hopefully one day I’ll find a guy I am so blind for love about as you are about dad. Pretty to look at but otherwise you get backlash from shaking your head so much about all the crazy stunts he pulls and the crazy stuff he does and says.” Blythe stated bluntly.
“Seriously. Me too. You don’t even realize he is a hopeless case, mom. Overgrown toddler. Forever.” giggled Fallon.
Blaine sat down his coffee and twitched, making both girls squeal as they went running for the hallway to escape Blaine’s implied chase, giggling.
“Any smartassery from you too, son? Just get it out of your system now, kid.” Blaine told his youngest.
“Nope, nothing from me, dad. Just here for the coffee. You do realize though that just because you didn’t say yes, they are still gonna do it, right?” Gavin predicted.
“Do what?” Blaine wondered.
“Whatever they wanted to get you to agree to.”
“Which is what? When I see them do the wrappy-daddy-around-finger-beggy-eyes I routinely quit listening and just keep repeating the word ‘no’. It’s a reflex, otherwise I’d be in the poorhouse by now. Every single one of your sisters has expensive taste, Gav. I can’t afford to be a pushover. Literally.” Blaine smirked.
“I get it. I dunno what they want either, dad. And even if I did, I am no rat. Gotta get ready for school now, too.” Gavin told him, then left as well.
“Starting to wonder if you shouldn’t make poor George’s nut-cut event an appointment for two after all, just tell the vet I am a Cameron Collie or something and I’ll do my best to pant and wag nicely at the doctor with his big scissors. Who needs enemies when you got kids like those? Gavin was definitely the bookend child. No more of that retched brood!” Blaine told Scarlett.
“Music to my ears. On all counts.” giggled Scarlett, winking at Blaine when he turned his head to her with a ‘seriously?!’ expression.
“You’re not REALLY gonna do that to our sweet dog, are you? That was just some display of parental authority, to teach our brats a life lesson about not owning horny pets, right?” Blaine wondered.
“I don’t bluff, baby, you know me better than that. Do YOU want to risk him doing that to your mother’s prized poodle again? That would be strike number three and you definitely wouldn’t survive that one. First one was your fault by association, since it was your son Blake’s poodle, second one was your fur-love George … if you or one of our kids’ dogs crosses that line again, she’ll eradicate all of us. You heard her, she won’t put her Peach under the knife to get spayed, since she thinks it’s so much easier for male dogs. And I quote Maeve: ‘just a few snips, a Band-Aid, and they can think with the right head again – permanently'” Scarlett giggled.
“I think I just pooped my own wiener. Makes me shudder to hear my own mother say those things. And who knows, maybe our little weirdo George is going for a hump-every-bitch-on-the-block record anyway and like lightning, won’t hit the same target twice.” Blaine shrugged.
“Blaine … he’s a dog, not a canine version of teen you.”
“Heyyy! That’s not fair! There was ONE certain girl I wanted to nail, over and over, after she deflowered me, totally monogamous, I knew I wanted to be with her forever even then, but SHE dumped me, broke my heart – and that girl was YOU, so don’t point any fingers at me. You didn’t want me, so I shopped around. At least I didn’t knock ’em all up. Only the ones I marry get to mix their DNA with mine. And I don’t slap rings on girls lightly.” Blaine grinned self-righteously.
“Be that as it may, but in between Bristol and me, who knows how many shots were into the bull’s eye against the odds and how many of your genetics are running around out there without us knowing. Just a reminder, you and I both used protection when we made Vivien, and Caitlin, and the twins, …”
“Yeah yeah yeah, but I do! A man can tell if some of his swimmers grew legs. I knew with Vivien, even though you tried to hide that from me. I know how many kids I made. Exactly 7! 1 by Bristol and 6 by YOU! That’s how many! My momma raised no fool, Letty, nor a genetics fountain! I wrapped my Cameron genes up tight unless it doesn’t matter all that much if something comes of it or not.”
“Wish you had taught George how to do that, then I wouldn’t be back on your mother’s shitlist once more, guilty by association – again! She yelled at me too. After she and I FINALLY got along. Ugh.”