Fray-Adjacent

They didn't come straight back to the apartment after sending Bronwyn and Payback home. It just seemed like it'd be way too empty.

But there's only so much grocery shopping and other off-putting you can do before you have to go back to the place where you usually do stuff like, oh, sleep.

Xander hangs his jacket up and turns the light on as they come in.

He was right. It is way too empty.

[For just one of the B-word-people, woe. SP for great justice.]

That sound you hear would be Xander snoring.

That sound Xander hears would be.... the... nonononononononono doorbell.

And then there is no snoring.

There's just Xander muttering "Nononononononono..." and trying to shove his head under a pillow.

And then there's the doorbell again.

And the pattering of tiny feet a herd of tiny elephants towards it.

That sound would be Xander jumping out of bed and tearing out of the bedroom, yes.

[For, uh, the people from last night. Cookie for anyone who can tell me why the deliveryman is so, so, so wrong.]

No matter how busy a day certain people might have had today (or yesterday, for that matter), at some point after the ice cream, there comes the bedtime. No, really.

[OOC: For the B-word people and eventually someone else. Whose name is not Madrox, Fray, Weasley, Cooper, Blank, Cox, Krevlornswath, or Animal. *waits to see who I forgot*]

If Bridge and Xander slept in really, really late and are still kind of lazing around in bed, well, it's been a long, busy week. And if they're still really, really sleepy, well, yesterday was prom night, and Xander had visiting royalty in his bed. You do the math.

[For the B-word-persons.]

So, Xander is sitting in his living room with a laptop in that most surprising of places, his lap, and a long familiar Dear Willow typed on the screen in front of him. Of course, that's as far as he's got.

Because really - Dear Willow: So remember that relationship I used to have that was only slightly illegal? Well, you can cross off both the 'used to' and the 'slightly' now. Then on Sunday, our kids from the future (including my son with Parker and no, that never happened kthx) showed up. And one of them was actually ours. Mine and Bridge's. Really, seriously ours. And I'm completely in love with her. According to her (see attached), it involved a jar. I'm hoping that was five year old for 'Petri dish.' And then they left. And I miss them liek whoa. And now he wants me to meet his parents and he thinks they won't have any problem with the fact that their seventeen year old son is dating a twenty-six year old man. Also, I think I invented a new tv show. Love, Xander.

Yeeeah. He could just pre-write the reply. Dear Xander: Again with the frog-licking? Love, Willow.

So. Laptop. Lap.

Between his alternate self's son with Parker, some alternate Bridge's son with Marie, and the much more surprise appearance of a daughter who Xander was still having trouble believing was possible, he was operating completely on go-with-the-flow logic at this point.

So after a long afternoon in the Park with all three of them, and calls to certain people's alterna-moms, MCA #0 had suddenly turned into YMCA #0 for the night. The couch in the living room was folded out into a bed, extra sleeping bags were strewn on the floor, popcorn had been popped, and hot cocoa was currently waiting to cool down.
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[OOC: For the extended Carson and Harris brood.]