You're In Awfully Early {Septiplier}

Just Too Indifferent

"Layla, sweetie," Ken calls gently, glancing over at his daughter. He's hovering over the stove, a spatula in one hand while the other drops bread into the toaster. "How about you eating a bit of your breakfast yourself?"

"The doggies are hungry, Daddy!" Layla insists, a fresh piece of bacon in her small hands.

Betty is stretched to reach her front paws onto the seat of the toddler's chair, her corgi stature betraying her when it comes to the battle for breakfast. Boss, multiple times larger as a healthy Newfoundland, lays his head on Layla's lap, waiting patiently for more treats.

Layla tears a small piece from her bacon, tossing it to the ground for the corgi near her swinging legs. Betty springs to snatch the treat, inhaling it before returning to stretch her small frame. Layla feeds Boss from her hand, allowing him to lick the bacon from her tiny palm. Head never leaving her lap, she pats his dark fur with messy fingers. Her soft, brown eyes crinkle with joy at the eager pups, and she goes to tear off another piece.

Ken opens his mouth for a light scolding, concerned for the longevity of his pups with a compassionate toddler only getting more eager to share. His phone rings just in time, drawing his attention to fishing the device from his sweatpants.

He's surprised to see it's Mark, as the American knows Ken normally doesn't answer in the morning, when Layla has yet to leave for preschool. Ken accepts the call, just to keep Mark from getting an attitude.

"Hey, Mark," Ken answers easily, tucking his phone between his ear and shoulder. "I can't really talk right now. I'm in the middle of breakfast."

"I know it's a bad time," Mark replies quickly, "but I've got a small request to make."

Ken sighs. "What weird challenge is it this time? I thought the point of having a boyfriend was to make him do them with you."

Mark laughs lightly. "No, no. That's not it. It's actually something pretty important, if I do say so myself."

Ken pauses, flipping the eggs on the stove before turning the heat off to focus more fully on Mark's words. "Good important?"

Mark hums in agreement, the smile clear in his voice. "I'm proposing to Jack."

Ken smiles brightly, glancing down at the wedding ring on his own finger. "Congratulations man. Marriage really is the best thing that can happen to you. I know y'all will be so darn happy when you finally tie the knot."

"Mark's getting married?" Mary asks, popping her head out of the bathroom. Her blonde hair is a wet brown from her shower and she's only half dressed, but there's a full smile on her lips.

Ken nods, causing Mary to call out a congratulations.

"It hasn't happened yet," Mark stresses, pausing for only a second to build his courage. "I'm proposing at PAX. And I want you to be there."

"Oh," Ken mutters, smile flattering. "I'm really happy for you man, I really am, but I can't really just run off to the states anymore. I've got a lot going on here."

"What did he say?" Mary calls from the bathroom, door open to hear more of the conversation. Despite the messy break up with Signe, Mary's always thought Jack and Mark were a wonderful couple. She was crushed when Ken insisted neither of them could come to their wedding, wanting to keeping it small.

"Honey, could you not shout across the house?" Ken frowns, mostly wanting to handle this himself. Plus, he's weary of Layla picking up the habit of shouting, the toddler already prone to talking far too loud.

Mary tugs on a pair of pants, trotting from the bathroom as she buttons them. She presses her ear as close to the phone as she can, standing on her tiptoes to try to minimize their height difference. Ken takes the phone from his ear, clicking it onto speaker.

"You better not be rejecting our invitation to their wedding," Mary insists, much quieter, mouth still tugged in a smile. "You better invite us to your wedding, Mark! I know for a fact Jack has four times the family you do. You could use the extra bodies."

Mark chuckles. "Hi, Mary! No, I'm not talking about invitations, though I'll mark you down for three, okay? I still have to propose, and I want you all to be there when I do."

"Of course we'll be there!" Mary calls, excited as ever.

"If we can fit it into the schedule," Ken amends, corners of his mouth turning downward. Layla's weekend schedule running through his head, he knows this is a bad weekend for a unplanned trip, even if it's for his friend. "This is last minute, Mark. We have a daughter, ya know."

"She can come too," Mark insists, confident with Mary on his side. "The more the merrier! Hell, bring the dogs too."

"Language," Ken scolds, frowning, glancing at Layla. She's feeding more of her breakfast to the dogs, uninterested in their conversation. Her shoulder length, black hair slides into her face, and she pushed it back with egg stained hands. Ken visibly cringes, praying the mess won't require another bath.

"We're going!" Mary nearly demands, a huge grin spread across her cheeks.

"Why don't we talk about this later?" Ken offers, grabbing a few napkins from atop the microwave. "Mind if we give you a call later? After Layla heads off to school?"

"That's fine with me," Mark replies, surprised Ken has even talked for his long. "If Mary can handle the suspense, that is."

The blonde woman frowns, but sighs out a quiet, "Okay, but I'm not giving this up."

Ken hands the phone to Mary for a round of goodbyes, moving to their daughter. He kneels down beside her chair, napkins in hand, smiling softly at her.

"Are you making a mess?" he asks, a light tease in his voice.

She shakes her head, grinning mischievously as she tosses a bite of eggs into her mouth with her bare hands. Ken rolls his eyes playfully,  gently takes her hand. He wipes the first one clean before working on the second one, taking a bit of time to get the egg out from between her fingers.

"How about we try a fork, Lee Lou?" he offers, handing her the unused utensil from beside her plate.

She frowns, shaking her head and refusing to take it. "But Daddy! You said doggies can't eat off forks."

"Doggies eat doggy food out of doggy bowls," he reminds her, pointing to the dog bowls tucked away in the corner of the kitchen.

"I wanna doggy bowl!" she decides, smiling wide.

"Why don't we stick with a fork?" Ken suggests, gathering some of her scrambled eggs onto the utensil. He offers it to her, gently placing it near her lips, and she takes the bite without complaint, chewing slowly.

"You're coddling her," Mary mentions, joining them at the table with a plate of food for herself.

"She's three, Mary," Ken dismisses, gathering another bite onto the fork. "This is perfectly normal."

"One of these days, you're going to kneel down and not be able to get back up," Mary teases, only half joking.

He offers Layla another bite, the tile hurting his knees though he doesn't mind much. "That's why I'm keeping you around," he smirks.