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Fic -- First Steps
Title: First Steps
Rating: G
Word Count: 1765
Characters: Top/Golden Glider, Star and Nate Dillon.
Summary: It's Star's first day of school.
Warnings: None.
Notes: Set in the Dillonsverse, very early on. Slice of life fluff.

The first day of school is stressful for everyone. The child is nervous and doesn’t know what to expect, while the parents worry about all the things that can possibly go wrong. This worry is magnified when the parents are ex-criminals, particularly ones as notorious as the Top and Golden Glider. But they’d discussed the issue for months before the school year began, and eventually concluded they had little choice. Roscoe was highly intelligent but lacked patience, and would probably do a terrible job of home-schooling, while Lisa covered self-doubt about her education with a reminder that they couldn’t hide the kids from the world forever. She was genuinely concerned about them living too insular a life with their parents and extended Rogue family.

With that in mind, they’d enrolled Star at the local public school, and today was the first day of kindergarten. She’d tearfully begged both parents to go with her, so everyone got up early and prepared to take her to school. Nathaniel was still too young to attend but would be going with them due to lack of a sitter, and was cranky because he wasn’t accustomed to getting up so early.

“Pleeeeeeeease just eat something,” Lisa told her daughter in exasperation, willing herself not to lose her temper. Star had been difficult about getting dressed, and now her attention was directed at pestering her baby brother instead of having breakfast.
“Don’t wanna eat, I’ll wait until lunch,” Star said defiantly, and Lisa rolled her eyes because she was certain the girl would be unhappy if she didn’t eat anything before lunchtime. Maybe the kids would get a snack during class (she’d have to ask), but even that wouldn’t be enough.
“Eat your breakfast,” Roscoe growled with more irritation than was necessary, as his attempts to spoon-feed Nate were being stymied by Star poking him. The toddler howling in his ear was already giving him a headache.

Star sat down at the table, sulking and nibbling resentfully on her food as Lisa gathered everything needed for the day: some favourite toys, an apple in case of snack, and Nate’s bottle. Kindergarten children only attended for half a day, so there was no need to pack a lunch yet.
“Can we drop off Nate too?” Roscoe muttered under his breath, and Lisa gave him a dirty look even though she’d been thinking the same thing. As always, the difference between them was that he would actually say it.
“Shush. I hope you’ll be ready to go right when you’re done feeding him, because we have to leave very soon or we’ll be late.”
“Well, he spat up on me, so I will need to get changed.”
“Pretty sure we don’t have time for that. It’s just the first day of school, not a bar or a Rogues meeting.”
“Of course,” he replied peevishly, teeth grinding together. It was an insult to his masculinity and supervillain dignity to be in public with baby-food stains on his clothes, but life would be far worse if Lisa were to yell or nag at him.

They left the house in a hurry ten minutes later, breakfast still unfinished and Lisa resolving to get up earlier the next day.
“If I’m late, does that mean they send me home?” Star asked hopefully, and her mother caressed her hair a few times.
“No, honey. But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll love school. You’ll meet lots of new people, and in kindergarten you get to play all morning.”
“I didn’t like school. They took away my tops,” Roscoe grumbled, receiving a warning glare to shut up. He chose to ignore it. “I did everything that was asked of me, and they still confiscated my toys. It was quite unjust.”
“There’s a lesson for you, Star,” Lisa said tersely, furious that he was sabotaging her efforts to soothe. “If you’re naughty at school like Daddy was, sometimes there are consequences that aren’t any fun.”
“I was not naughty.”
The only response was a derisive laugh, and silence reigned for the rest of the trip. Petrified, Star wondered what kind of hell she was being sent into.

Everyone except Nate was nervous as they trudged through the school’s front doors. The adults were concerned about being recognized, and although he wouldn’t admit it, Roscoe’s dislike of authority was ratcheting up his tension level. He knew he shouldn’t be openly rude to school officials but wasn’t entirely certain how to behave around them, and wisely decided to let his wife do most of the talking.

Star tightly gripped her mother’s hand as they walked through the main hall, staring in wonder at all the older children and the trappings of a school. Glimpses of desks and blackboards seen through open doorways fascinated her.
“Am I going in there?” she asked as they passed the first-grade classroom, seeing children not much older than herself, and Lisa smiled.
“No honey, not for a couple of years. Kindergarten’s much more fun!”

The kindergarten room did seem fun. There were toys everywhere, and the children who’d gotten there earlier were already joyfully running around. Even Roscoe brightened considerably when he noticed the presence of tops, something he’d always encouraged his kids to play with.
“Baww!” Nate shrieked happily from his stroller, straining to reach for the giant ball a short distance away.
“I like it here, Mommy!” Star announced, and her parents beamed with relief.
“I’m so glad to hear that, sweetie,” Lisa said, cuddling her tightly. “Why don’t you go over and say hello to the other kids while we talk to the teacher?”
“I’ll show them how to spin tops properly, Daddy,” Star told him as he hugged her and gave some fatherly words of encouragement, and she wandered off to see the children sitting next to the giant ball.

“I want to stay too,” Roscoe chuckled as they looked for the teacher. He’d never lost his love of tops nor toys in general, and the room seemed to be a great place to play. Lisa squeezed his hand affectionately.
“You and James would have a field day here.”
They patiently waited for the teacher to finish talking to another parent, and then approached in a friendly manner.
“Hi, I’m Lisa Dillon and this is my husband Roscoe,” Lisa began with a broad smile, and Roscoe nodded silently. “Our daughter Lisa -- though everyone calls her Star, for obvious reasons -- will be in your class this year.”
“Did you say…Roscoe…Dillon?” a nearby parent asked, frowning, and Roscoe turned to look at her. He’d worn sunglasses to disguise his appearance, never realizing that dark lenses looked similar to his mask and actually increased his chance of being recognized. The woman took a step back.

“Oh, he gets that all the time,” Lisa said cheerfully, draping a casual arm around her husband. “Different guy.”
“Yes, different. Not the supervillain,” Roscoe replied with a mildly strained smile. He didn’t mind lying, but disliked having to hide who he was.
“But you kind of look like…”
“Different guy,” Lisa repeated firmly. “Would a supervillain take his child to kindergarten?”
“I guess not…”
“So now you know who we are,” Lisa quickly told the teacher, eager to change the subject. “Star’s a bit nervous about starting school, but she seems to like it here so far. Please call us if there any problems.”
“Of course,” the teacher said politely, and made a mental note to talk to the principal. She had her suspicions about the Dillons, who really did seem familiar to her, though she couldn’t quite place how.
“I’ll be back to pick up Star at lunchtime,” Lisa declared in that same cheerful tone, and she and Roscoe scurried back to their daughter to say goodbye.

“We’re going to leave now, honey -- do you think you’ll be okay?” Lisa asked kindly, and the little girl hugged her.
“Yeah Mommy, it’s fun here. But you’ll come back soon, right?”
“In just a few hours,” her mother promised.
“Then I’m okay. Just don’t let Nate in my room,” Star insisted, so Roscoe hugged her and then the adults left.

“You think they know who we are?” Lisa asked as they walked out of the school. Nate was now fast asleep in the stroller.
“Yes,” Roscoe said flatly, utterly calm.
“Does it bother you?”
“I would have moved and changed my name if it did.”
“Maybe we should. It isn’t too late to do it, you know,” Lisa replied, biting her lip uncomfortably. “It was one thing when it was just the two of us, but the kids didn’t sign up for this.”
“You’re assuming people wouldn’t discover it anyway and be furious at us for hiding it. And we’d have to start over -- leave your brother and our friends behind, and explain to the kids why all of it is happening. I think that’s more trouble than it’s worth, frankly. At least now we weed out the jerks we wouldn’t want to interact with anyway,” he shrugged.
“Maybe…” she mused, somewhat unconvinced. It was true that she didn’t want to cut off contact with her brother or even change her name, but the situation still seemed unfair to the children. “But if things get bad, would you be willing to do it?”
“Yes, if life becomes intolerable,” he conceded, although from his casual response she deduced that he didn’t think it was very likely. She supposed a promise was all she could ask for.

“Our baby’s growing up,” she said fondly, leaning against him for a cuddle as they walked. He kissed her cheek and took her hand.
“She still has a long way to go yet, don’t worry. And Nate won’t start school for another two years. By then we’ll probably be glad to have them out of the house for a few hours,” he teased, chuckling when she lightly bopped him on the nose.
“I want my babies to stay with me forever…oh god, that sounded creepy, didn’t it?”
“A bit,” he smirked. “But you’re a very good mother, and they’re lucky to have you. So am I.”
“Flatterer. When we get home I’m going to put Nate down for a nap, and then you can rub my feet to show your appreciation for me.”
“Oh, may I? And then may I make your lunch and clean the kitchen for you?” he asked mockingly, though it was clear from his expression that he was still amused. She had to continue the joke.
“If you’re very good…yes, you may.”
And much to her surprise, he did.

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Thank you for reading, I'm glad you enjoyed it! :)

ah, the first day of kindergarten.
a lot of the time, the parents struggle more with it than the kids themselves.

poor rosoce, subtlety is not his strength.
"I'm totally not a supervillain"
for someone of his iq, this sentence should really have been phrased better

He's more awkward than he ought to be, unfortunately :> If he can't dominate/threaten the other person, he's kind of at a loss :>

Thanks for reading!

Aw *beams* That did cheer me up... now I'm imagining Roscoe doing house work in an apron *evil grin*

Glad to hear it cheered you, and thank you! He does make dinner in a few fics...and even ends up in an apron in my Thanksgiving story from a few years ago :>

This was fantastic! XD Thanks for the link my sweet! =D

You're welcome, thanks for reading!

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