Birthright: Prompt 3 [Bug]

On the third Sunday of June, you wake to a soft, sad feeling in your chest. But the sun is out, and the garden needs its last planting cycle, so you can't dwell on it.

"Kimberly," you call, grabbing your jacket and glancing toward her wing of the cabin. "Are you coming?"

Silence.

You wait momentarily, hoping she simply didn't hear you. You cross the large living area, calling, "Kimmy, are you ready?"

More silence.

Your feet tromp down the hall, stopping outside her bedroom and knocking on the door. "Kimberly?"

Nothing.

You reach for the knob, slowly turning it, peeking inside.

You're shocked to find that Kimberly isn't there, isn't swaddled up in her bedclothes, isn't lethargically staring at the wall. Her bed is made, and her floor is spotless - not a shirt or blanket out of place.

Lily's crib is tidy and empty, as well.

You head toward the front door just as it opens, Hunter's head poking inside. "Hey!" he greets, grinning. "We've been waiting!"

The spike of worry turns to a balm of relief. "Hey," you exhale, glad to hear Kimberly decided to get an early start, not... something worse. "Sorry, slept in."

"We got the last batch of onions and turnips in already," Hunter says as you leave the cabin and step down the porch. "Left the cucumbers for you."

"You didn't let Kimberly coerce you into chard, right?" you groan, already knowing the answer. If they started early, it was so Kimberly could plant her damned chard in secret. "I keep telling her no one eats the stuff except her. We always have leftovers, and then you force us all to eat them in the dining hall."

"Hey, I'm just the baker," he says with his hands up in surrender. He's grinning like a schoolboy, though. "Take it up with the chefs."

You grumble, turning the corner to where a picnic blanket is spread out. Kimberly and Bug are seated there. Bug is chewing on a plastic toy keyring and gabbing away to herself in babyspeak. Kimberly has a book spread across her skirted lap; she's twined pale green ribbon through her long braids, too, looking every bit the prairie wife.

"Morning," you greet. Kimberly waves her fingers in your direction, not glancing up from her book. Bug turns so quickly that she nearly topples, grinning wide.

"Left the cucumbers for you," Kimberly says, voice distant, still reading.

"Yay," you deadpan, but you're smiling anyway. It's a beautiful day - there's nothing like being out here with family and friends.

Hunter plops onto the blanket beside Kimberly, peering over her shoulder at the book. "What are you reading? It's not even English?"

"French," she replies with a slight frown. "Annika's making me read it."

"I told you not to take lessons from her," Hunter smirks. "She's a tyrant when it comes to teaching."

You wince a little; Kimberly goes strangely still. Forcing her voice to remain blase, she murmurs, "I'd rather be the one to teach Bug. Not her."

Hunter's smile fades, the awkwardness of revelation hitting. He doesn't know what to say, so he desperately glances in your direction. "Want help with the cucumbers?"

"Sure," you say, taking pity on the man.

It only takes an hour of careful planting to fill out the remainder of your plot. By the time you return to the picnic blanket -a little sweaty but no worse for wear- Jordan has come around with a cardboard box and a sunshade. The first sits beside Kimberly while Jordan assembles the second for them.

"There," they announce, collapsing onto the blanket beside Bug. The little girl giggles and mimics their flop, using Jordan's side as a backrest. Jordan pretends to huff from the impact, making Bug giggle more.

"Hey," you greet as you and Hunter sit with the others. The blanket is getting crowded. "What's in the box?"

"Water and beers," Jordan smirks. "The best things life has to offer."

"A person of distinguished taste," you tease. "Pass me a water?"

"Me, too," Hunter requests.

"Get 'em yourself," Jordan says, closing their eyes and folding their arms under their head. "I have to be a pillow for Princess Lilybug."

Kimberly gets the requested drinks, including a sippy cup for Bug. The girl wiggles in place while she drinks and drives a toy dump truck over Jordan's ribs and stomach.

After only an hour, your Sunday relaxation gets interrupted by another newcomer.

Xavier comes through with a brilliant grin and a crate overflowing with produce. "Well, now! Three of my favorite people are right here in one place."

"Love you, too, Xav," Jordan mumbles, half-asleep.

"Not you, you ass," the man snorts, gently toeing Jordan in the side. "Hunter - Annika wanted me to bring this up to the kitchen. Are you heading back soon?"

Hunter sighs, casting a look around. "I guess I should. Don't want to make you work on a special day."

Kimberly flinches - it's slight, but you notice.

As Hunter takes the crate, Xavier produces a small container and hands it to Kimberly. "And for you."

Kimberly barely looks at him. She takes the container and frowns. "...Thanks."

"They're your favorites, right?" Xavier asks, his expression going crestfallen. "Yours and Bug's? Annika could have sworn..."

You lean over - the container is full of ripe blueberries and strawberries. Definitely not Kimberly's favorite.

"It's fine," Kimberly says, grabbing her book. "Lily likes blueberries, at least."

Jordan snorts "Smooth," and doesn't bother covering it.

Xavier glances at you, expression pleading. "I could have sworn..."

"Raspberries, not strawberries," you say. "Strawberries were our mom's."

Xavier sighs. "Shit. Sorry."

"It's fine," Kimberly repeats, though her expression is too stiff. You know that look. She's holding back tears.

Xavier flounders in the tense silence before grinning down at Bug. "Hey, Princess," he coos, reaching down to offer his hands. "Uppies?"

Bug wiggles and grins, happily accepting Xavier's offer. He lifts her high into the air, swinging her. "How's my girl? Having a good day?" he asks Bug, sweeping her back into his arms and kissing her forehead.

Bug smushes her face against his jaw in her version of a kiss. Xavier grins and bounces her. His expression turns slightly hesitant as he murmurs, "Um, Kim? Would it be okay if... I mean, Annika and I are going into town for dinner tonight. I thought... maybe with the holiday... could I take Bug?"

You can see Kimberly's throat work around a rough swallow. "She can't eat most solid foods yet."

"I know," he says quickly. "I already called ahead - they can puree some veggies and fruits. It's all organic, no sugar added. She'll be okay."

Jordan groans, rolls onto their side to face you, and mouths, "So awkward."

You roll your eyes at them but can't deny the statement's validity.

"...Fine," Kimberly grits out. "Be back before sundown. I'll need to bathe her and get her to bed at a normal time, or she'll be a disaster."

"Of course!" he says, quick and happy. "Yes, definitely, of course!" He kisses Bug's forehead again before setting her onto the blanket beside Kimberly.

Bug immediately reaches for him. Xavier's eyes go soft; Kimberly's harden.

"I'll be back soon, Princess," he promises, leaning down to chuck her under her chin. To Kimberly, he breathes, "Thanks, Kim." To you and Jordan, more as an afterthought, he adds, "See you guys around."

You and Jordan wave matching goodbyes. Kimberly ignores him.

Once he's gone, Kimberly gets to her feet and straightens her skirt. "Guess I'll feed and get her to a nap," she mumbles. "Can't have her cranky for Xavier's special day."

You wince at the bitterness. "Do you need h-"

"I'm fine," she snips, picking up Bug and sweeping her away into the house.

Jordan makes a soft noise in the back of their throat, stretching out on their back with arms spread. "I'd pity you if I cared enough."

You snort, kicking their arm. "Don't pity me. I have nothing to do with it."

Jordan seems to want to say something else, but they give up with a lethargic sigh. "Whatever. I'm just glad I'm not the one dealing with the minefield."

You can't help but agree, laying on the blanket with Jordan.

How is a person supposed to parce having a child with someone who will never be with them? Who will never love them? Who just needed an heir? Who gets to breeze in with gifts and receive effortless love from that child, then leave again?

And how does a person deal with that on Father's Day, no less?

"Shit's fucked," you say aloud.

Jordan hums their agreement. "Shit's fucked."