Earth Husbands are Odd (Earth Fathers #2) - Lyn Gala Page 0,28
sucked. It was weird, but in the shows Max watched, the parents had to deal with slayer kids and werewolf kids and wizard kids, and those parents never seemed ready to pull their hair out. Well, usually not. Max was surprised he had any hair left, and that was on a normal day.
“We all did well today,” Max finished. James slid away, and Xander ran after him, leaving Max alone with Kohei. Of all the children, Kohei was the one Max connected to least. Maybe it was because Kohei never needed him, not like his brothers. “Cut your brother some slack.”
“He speaks rudely.”
“We’re family. If we can’t be rude to each other, then who are we supposed to be rude to?”
Without a second of hesitation, Kohei said, “Buttfaces.”
Sometimes the kids caught Max so off-guard that he didn’t even have a response. Flying fighter jets required less concentration than parenting. The rules were more direct and the instruments were easier to read.
“If you’re rude to buttfaces, they’re rude back,” Max said. “And sometimes that causes trouble that we don’t want. Family loves us. They have to keep loving us no matter what. So when we’re having a bad day, sometimes we take it out on family.”
Kohei blew raspberries.
“Just don’t assume the worst of your brothers.”
Kohei glided silently away, and Max felt judged. Majorly judged. It dulled some of the pride he had about how the trade had gone, but on the good side, his fear that he was a shitty father mitigated any apprehension about the con.
Max headed deeper into the family section of the ship, the part Rick still wouldn’t allow the children into. Rick wasn’t waiting in the corridor either. Max headed up to their shared quarters, and even before the door opened, a rhythmic banging greeted him. His stomach knotted. It sounded like Rick was throwing everything they owned against the walls. Max hadn’t seen that sort of anger out of Rick, and a little cowardly voice suggested he run for the hills. However, Max didn’t run from fights. Well, except for that one time when his ex had thrown all his clothes off the apartment balcony, but Max called that a strategic retreat.
When he triggered the door to open, he braced himself for a shit-throwing fit and broken possessions. Instead Rick was braced on the edge of the bed with a mechanical panel open and he was pounding a piece into the back of it. He didn’t even pause his work to announce, “I reviewed recordings. You are moron.”
“I am a moron,” Max corrected him, “and no, I am not.” Maybe he shouldn’t poke Rick’s grammar, but that felt like a safer conversation than the one Rick wanted to have. Max sat on the edge of the bed, and Rick lowered the tool he’d been using and shifted so his eyes were on level with Max’s.
“You lack logic.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Max said with a shrug. His measuring stick for logic was Mr. Spock, and he fell so far short of that mark that it wasn’t even funny. He couldn’t even match a love-pollen-infected Spock for logic. No shame in that.
Rick tilted and then rotated to consider Max through multiple eyes. “Clarify your clarification.”
Max grinned. Distraction level: master. Even now Rick’s tentacles were relaxing. “My first statement is a correction of your grammar. My second statement is truth. I am not a moron.”
“True and illogical is mutually exclusive and you are illogical.”
“I am not.”
“You am too.”
“Am not.”
“Am too,” Rick shot back.
“Awww. Are we fighting?”
Rick froze. For a second he was like a giant stuffed octopus sitting on the bed. Only his eyes moved as they slowly rotated in their sockets. Then his tentacles all twitched. “Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea!” Rick bugled.
“You watch too much television.”
More tentacle twitching. “Television truths are still truths.”
Max studied Rick. When they’d talked before, Rick had said he was fine with this plan, but something had changed. Max toed off his shoes and pulled his feet up under him. “Okay, tell me in small, simple words why you believe I am a moron.”
“You are a moron.” Rick sank onto the bed.
“So you say.” Max sighed. “Clarify. Query. Why do you believe I am a moron?”
“Max presents self as violent.” The smaller tentacles curled.
Max held a hand out, but Rick kept his tentacles to himself. “I can be.” He kept his tone gentle.
“Nature of you not is violent. You could have given away my program to Hunters. You only are violent