That Blue Gibson: Another Round

fifty

Looking up from his laptop, Dave checked the progress Ophelia was making on his toenail polish and waited for Liz to set her keys and bag down so he could yank her down onto the couch beside him, "What do you think of this pink, babe? Too pastel? Not Halloween-y enough?"

Leaning across his lap, she examined the paint that was mostly covering his skin rather than his nails and decided, "No, I like it. Makes you look tan."

"I'm tan!" he insisted, twisting a little to look at her only to be chastised by the angry head of blonde curls at his feet.

"Quit moving, Daddy!"

"Sorry, jeeze," he muttered, sinking back into the couch at an angle so his shoulder was touching Liz's. "Costumes turn out okay?"

"Yeah, they look good. I need you to try yours on once your pedicure dries," she laid her chin on his shoulder and eyed his laptop screen, giving him a questioning look when she saw the list of flight schedules.

"Silva needs me at a conference in mid-November for a few days," he explained.

"Whole band?"

"Just me. A couple of dinners and a stage interview."

"Sounds riveting," she muttered wryly.

"Yeah," he grumbled with matching sarcasm. "Can't wait. You wanna go?"

Her head nestled further into his neck with a sigh, "Where at?"

"New York," he clicked around a bit, trying to find a direct red-eye flight that would leave after the kid's bedtime as he waited for her answer.

"Yeah, maybe."

"All done!" Phee announced proudly, "Your turn, Lizbeth! Daddy, do you want to pick the color?"

*

A few hours later, Liz poked her head into the boy's yellow submarine themed bathroom and found Dave folded up on the tile floor across from Owen, "How's it goin' in here?"

"Mexican standoff," Dave grumbled.

"Don't haveta go!" Owen insisted, crossing his arms and pouting from his spot on the toddler-sized potty next to the bathtub.

"You haven't gone in three hours and you've been drinking like a camel all morning!" Dave cried in frustration, "Break the seal, man!"

"Well, looks like you've got this handled," Liz laughed and shifted the garment bags slung over her shoulder. "Great job, honey!"

She checked on the rest of the kids in the playroom and headed for her bedroom, tossing the garment bags on the bed and settling in her reading chair with her laptop to wait.

"He gets his stubbornness from you, you know."

Liz didn't even look up from her email, just snorted a laugh when Dave stomped in. "They say boys are harder to potty train than girls."

"Fuck, apparently," he muttered and disappeared into his closet to call out to her, "Where's this costume you want me to try on?"

"On the bed!"

Peeking over the top of her laptop screen, she bit her bottom lip when he walked out pulling his shirt over his head with an uneasy look on his face. "What is it?"

Liz just shrugged and ran her hand down Stevie's back as she lay purring on the seat beside her, "Try it on and see."

"It's not..." he hesitated, his hand hovering over the hanger

"Not what, David?" she urged him, returning her gaze to her laptop.

"... nothing, nevermind," he mumbled and shuffled back into his closet with the garment bag in tow.