Chapter Text
“Dad,” Winnie says from her perch on Fido's shoulders as they walk back home, “do you know how to make banana bread?”
Fido winces a bit as she brings him back to reality. “I can look it up,” he says defensively. It can't be that hard – there's dozens of recipes he can find online. Probably hundreds, really. “Do you want to try to help me make some?”
Winnie's eyes light up and her tail starts wagging. “For real life?”
“For real life,” he says, and marvels at how quickly she picked that phrase up from Bluey. “I'll get the things from the shops while you're at school, okay?”
“At school?” she yelps. “But dad, that's ages from now! Years, even! Why not today?”
“Only a few days,” he corrects her gently. “And because, bugalug, we gotta get you your school clothes, remember? And Mr. Bandit's got a lot of things he's gotta do too, I'm sure.” He pulls her down off his shoulders and scoops her in to nuzzle her face, making her giggle and bat at his nose in protest. “Besides, I'm gonna have to practice making it, you don't want me to give him some bad bread, do you?”
She pauses to think, face scrunching up as she does so, and he lets out a breath when she nods agreement. “You're right, you gotta get it perfect first.”
“See? It won't be that long, honest.” He nods back at her. “... I'll ask Mr. Bandit about the days he comes to the park, okay?”
“Really, dad?!”
“Really.” He smiles at her, and she smiles back, and he feels his heart twang.
He shouldn't be surprised, really. Winnie's more than eager to run through all the shops, pulling at shirts and backpacks as she goes, trying to find the perfect ones.
More specifically, she keeps asking if he thought Bluey would like them.
“I don't know,” he tells her for what feels like the fiftieth time, “but you should get something you like.”
“But I do like them! I just want Bluey to like them too! And Bingo,” she adds as she stares down at her paw and traces circles on the floor.
Fido can't help but chuckle as he kneels down to give her a hug. “I know, but you shouldn't try to change what you like so other people like you.” He represses a wince as what he said registers and the blue heeler dad once again pushes into Fido's thoughts. “I think she'll like whatever you pick out because you like it,” he adds, and that seems to do the trick. She looks back up at him and nods, and Fido ruffles her head affectionately. “Attagirl.”
They've barely gotten home and set the bags on the table before Winnie's bouncing up and down, demanding her father call Mr. Heeler right now and find out when they can meet up at the park again. Fido puts on his best dad voice and insists right back that she needs to put her new backpack up and set her clothes by the washer, and maybe when she's done he'll call Bandit.
“I just got his number, sweetheart, you don't call just as soon as you get it,” he tells her.
“But why not? If he didn't want you to call him, he wouldn't have given it to you!”
Fido pauses, wondering how, exactly, you explain to a six year old that calling the same day you get someone's phone number makes you come across as desperate and needy and therefore Isn't Done, before he gives up. The pleading look his daughter is giving him melts through every single objection he can come up with before he has a chance to phrase any of them.
“... All right, I'll give him a call.”
“Hooray!”
He smiles wanly as she scurries off to get everything where it needs to be, then fishes the scrap of paper out of his wallet, picks up the phone, and with a deep breath to brace himself, punches in the numbers.
“Heeler residence, Bandit speaking.”
“Hey, Bandit, it's Fido.”
“Hey, mate! Good to hear from you already!” and he can hear the smile on the other man's face, which only makes it worse.
Fido forces a proper smile onto his own as he continues. “Winnie's been demanding I call all day, wanting to know when's the next time we'd be able to meet up in the mornings,” he says, and leaves off all the other things he wants to add.
Bandit's warm chuckle fills Fido's ear and he closes his eyes, quashing down the shiver it sends down his spine. “Well,” the heeler says, “if tomorrow's good for you too, I'm sure I can drag Bluey there on a leash.”
Despite himself, Fido snorts. “Yeah, same. Tomorrow's good, I don't know after that, what with school starting back up next week. Probably Saturdays or Sundays unless the sprog's really got energy to burn.”
This time Bandit laughs, and Fido feels his stomach do a slow flip-flop. “I heard that! Well... see you tomorrow, mate! Six, as usual.”
“Six. On the dot,” Fido says, tail wagging, and then what Bandit says next freezes him in place.
“It's a date!”
“Y-yeah...”
The phone goes dead, and Fido stares at it for what feels like hours before Winnie comes back and asks her father to start the clothes washer so her new shirts will have plenty of time to dry.
Sleep doesn't come easy to him that night, as he spends what feels like hours tossing and turning or staring up at the ceiling. It's a date. Bandit didn't mean it like that, did he? It's a date. They're just meeting up so their daughters can play. It's a playdate. It's not a date-date. They only just met a few days ago.
Slumber eventually takes him, and when he wakes all he can recall is sitting next to a blue heeler, watching Winnie and Bluey play together.
It's not the end of the world, he thinks, as he drags himself out of bed at Winnie's insistence. He's just going to meet the far-too-attractive-for-his-own-good Bandit and get his girl some exercise. Fido can manage that.
He's managed worse, he tells himself as he brushes his teeth and stares at his own reflection. A thoroughly unremarkable dog with thoroughly unremarkable brown fur.
Winnie squeals in anticipation as she runs in circles by the front door, and despite his anxiety he smiles again. An unremarkable dog with one thoroughly remarkable daughter.
They're early; 5:50 and Winnie is leaping at the gate and shaking it in her eagerness to get to the park and play again. Fido rolls his eyes and grins wearily at her as he unlatches it, and he's just about to shut it when a familiar voice makes him look up.
“Morning, mate. Yours wanted to be the first one here too?” Bandit waves at him, and Fido holds the gate for father and daughter. Unsurprisingly, Bluey is off like a shot as soon as she sees Winnie.
“Hah, yeah, you know kids,” Fido says as he heads to the bench he'd picked out as “his” on their first day.
“Daaaaaaaad,” two voices call again, and the pair exchange another look; Fido has to stop his tail from wagging slightly as their eyes meet.
“Wonder if the cafe's managed to expand the menu,” Bandit jokes as he compresses himself back into the seat, and he raises a hand as he changes his voice to be as faux-posh as he can manage. “I think I will have a doughnut,” he tells Winnie as she walks up.
“Oh, sorry. The cafe went out of business. We're playing newspapers now!”
Fido blinks and opens his mouth, only for Bluey to bustle up and jab her finger onto the table. “And where are your articles?” she asks imperiously. “They're late and we have a deadline!”
“I'm sorry boss!” Bandit says, immediately starting to type on an imaginary typewriter. “I haven't had a chance to fully proofread them yet and there's a lot of spelling errors I have to fix!”
“Y-yeah,” Fido chimes in, picking up a stack of wood chips and setting them on the table and pretending to sort through the “pile of documents”. “Just give us a few minutes and we'll have it all done!”
Bluey nods and crosses her arms. “Good! When you're finished, give them to my assistant!”
“Righto, boss!”
Bandit shakes his head as his daughter parades off. “Aw, biscuits! I don't know if we're gonna be able to get through all of these in time.”
Fido nods, eyes following after Bluey as she meets up with Winnie and the two begin to giggle. “Yeah, it's gonna be close, mate. Better put our nose to the grindstone.”
“No talking! If you've got time to talk you've got time to work!”
“YES'M!”
The two men furiously type away, shuffling the articles from the inbox to the outbox, one stack shrinking as the other grows.
“Done! Miss assistant, miss assistant!” Bandit calls, waving his hand in the air to catch their supervisor's attention, and Winnie walks over, hands on her hips.
“You'd best be finished!” she says, in as deep and bossy a tone she can manage.
Fido nods, taking the stack of papers and depositing them in her hands. “Just did, barely managed to meet the deadline! Please, take them to the boss!”
She sniffs disparagingly, turning on one foot and walks back over to Bluey at her desk. “Mrs. Pineapples, they're done with the papers!”
“Oh, thank you Miss Bellpepper!” Bluey takes the stack and sets them as neatly as she can on her desk, before standing back up and marching over to her editors. “You baaaaaarely managed to finish on time... so I have a reward for you!”
Both men look up, relief welling up – and she promptly drops an even larger pile of documents onto their desk.
“These need to be done by tonight! They're verrry important and I need you to work hard on them!”
“But Mrs. Pineapples,” Bandit begins as they wearily shuffle the papers into order, “have a heart! We're not interns,” he tries, only to melt under her withering glare. “Yes, boss...”
She nods once and strides back to her desk, watching them intently as they get back to work.
“Psst. Mate,” Fido whispers a minute or two later, glancing up at Bandit. “Let's make a break for it.”
Bandit's eyes flick up to Fido's, then over to their boss, who's gotten engrossed in a very important business conversation with her assistant. “No way, she'd nail us to the wall!”
“C'mon, she's a slave driver! There's no way we can - ”
“I SAID NO TALKING!”
“YES'M!” they chorus as their posture jerks ramrod straight.
“All right, I'm in,” Bandit hisses as he pecks at the keyboard haphazardly.
Fido nods back, “on three then. One...”
“Two...”
“Three run for it!” Fido shouts and forces his way out from the too-small table. To his joy, Bandit is right behind him as they make a beeline for the rope climber and scurry their way to its top, ignoring the indignant screech of “they're getting away!” from behind them.
“Awright, Bluey, it's time to go,” Bandit tells his daughter, and Bluey lets out an adorable “awww” before she nods and reaches up to hold his hand.
“See you again soon, mate,” he says, and Fido can't quite make heads or tails of that odd little half-smile on his face.
Instead, he just nods, trying to match it as casually as he can. “Yeah, see you again soon. I'll let you know when I've got the banana bread ready for you to try.”
Both of the Heelers' eyes light up. “For real life?” Bluey asks.
“For real life. You can come have brekkie at our place too,” he promises.
Bandit's smile softens slightly. “Looking forward to it, mate.”
The weekend passes almost without incident; Sunday afternoon Winnie manages to cajole him into going to the shops to buy all the ingredients he needs and then some to make a loaf of banana bread, pointing out that if they get all of it now, he'll have even more time to try to get it right on Monday while she's at school.
Smart girl, he thinks as he pats her on the head, even if it will make the walk up the stairs with their arms overflowing somewhat tricky.
Monday morning's dream was nothing but a pair of eyes gazing deep into Fido's, before the wisps of memory fade and he rolls out of bed to make sure Winnie was out of hers.
It takes less time than he fears, but longer than he would like, but he eventually has her awake, fed, and into the car with her backpack sitting next to her.
“D'you think Bluey's going to be in my class?” she asks, eyes sparkling.
“I don't know, bugalug,” he says as he unbuckles her and gives her a hug. She returns it with a laugh and a pat on the head. “But you have a good day, okay? I'll work on the banananananana bread while you're in class, and if it comes out all right, I'll let you have a big slice, okay?”
Winnie giggles at how he runs “banana” on as she slides her backpack on. “Okay, dad. You'll be waiting for me, right?” She looks up at him pleadingly, and he sighs internally. She knows he can't resist that look, and he kneels down to give her a kiss on the forehead.
“Of course I will. I promise.”
She nods and turns to face the door, squaring her shoulders in imitation of her father when he has to do something he doesn't want to but knows he must.
“Have a good day, sweetheart.”
The drive home is quiet, and Fido finds himself oddly morose; there was no way out of it, his daughter did have to go to school... but he misses her already, and even the temptation of Bandit and Bluey's visit doesn't help much to lift his mood.
Mostly because he still has to bake the bread, in addition to prepare the ingredients, all while ducking back to his computer for work...
Oh sure, the data entry job pays well enough, but it's hardly engrossing. Though at least the culinary attempts will give him a welcome distraction.
Just so long as he doesn't burn the apartment down.
The first attempt isn't burned. It's the only good news he has about it; it's lumpy, undercooked, and while the inside isn't sludge it looks like sludge would be an improvement. It's gritty, somehow, and has to be half-pried, half-spooned out of the pan.
The second try is too far in the other direction – it's a minor blessing the smoke alarm isn't set off, but that is the only good news to come of it; the “bread” is blackened, sticks to the pan, has to be practically chiseled out and then off the sides of the pan, and the inside...
Well, theoretically there could be moisture in it.
Fido lets out a sigh as he glances at the clock, sets the timer for round three, and goes back to work, copying over numbers from spreadsheets, verifying them against the master list, adding them to different spreadsheets, uploading those, and finally typing in the numbers that resulted from the calculations to a different spreadsheet. It is not precisely “intellectually stimulating” but it pays the bills, he tells himself.
Number three is... well, it's not ideal. It's edible, certainly, but it's not quite good enough for him. Just a little too dry, a little too crumbly.
He glances at the clock and nods; there's just enough time to make the last attempt as a double batch, pull them from the oven, and then go pick up Winnie.
Oh, and finish work, too.
As promised, he's early and waiting for his little girl to hear about her first day of school, but as she comes out of the building, Fido frowns. Something's wrong. His beautiful daughter's head is slumped down, and the frown doesn't leave her face even when she looks up and sees him running towards her.
“Winnie, sweetheart, what's wrong?” he asks as he hugs her tightly and strokes her back as reassuringly as he can.
“Bluey doesn't go to my school,” she mumbles into his chest, and he feels his heart drop.
He continues to hold her as he thinks furiously, rocking his little girl back and forth, and comes to a decision, banana bread or no. “We're going to the shops, bugalug,” he says.
Winne looks up at him, confused, and he pats her on the shoulder. “Next time we see Mr. Bandit and Bluey, I'm going to have them over for brekkie, so we gotta get food for them.”
She sniffles and rubs at her eyes, looks up at him, and his heart goes out to her again. “For real life?”
“For real life,” he says, and she finally gives him a weak smile.
They barely have time to get home before the phone rings.
“Fido speaking.”
“Hey, mate,” the voice on the other end says, and his stomach lurches at Bandit's voice. “I take it you heard the disaster, yeah?”
Fido swallows. “Yeah, Winnie's pretty broken up about it.”
“Bluey too. Suppose there's no help for it, yeah?”
“I suppose you're right...” Fido sighs as he holds the phone to his ear in one hand and awkwardly puts the new groceries away. “Guess I'll see you tomorrow at the park, yeah?”
There's a short pause before Bandit answers, and Fido swallows. Was he going too far?
“Yeah... yeah, mate. See you tomorrow.” Bandit pauses again. “Maybe we should make it every morning this week, give the girls something to make them feel better?”
Fido only then realizes he's been holding his breath. “Yeah, I think you're right.”
“All right, I'll tell Bluey. See you tomorrow, then.”
“Yeah. Gotta be done?” Fido dares, and his stomach warms at the sound of Bandit's laugh.
“Too right, gotta be done!”
He hangs up the phone and turns to Winnie, scooping her up and touching his nose to her. “You want to see Bluey every day this week?”
She nods at him, eyes wide, and he smiles at his little girl. “They can come to brekkie tomorrow too... but you should keep it a secret from them, okay? I want it to be a surprise.”
Winnie nods eagerly, smiling delightedly at him, and then her mind flits to the banana bread. “Dad, you can't let them come over if it's not ready yet!”
Fido sighs, sets her down, and takes a knife from the cutlery drawer. He positions it above one of the pans, swallows, and cuts away two slices.
It's not perfect, he thinks, as he hands one to Winnie and takes the first bite. But it'll do.
Winnie wakes him at 5:20, jumping on the bed, and he suppresses a groan as he tries to catch his hyperactive pup.
He didn't dream of Bandit, he remembers with a pang, but shakes it off as he pulls himself together and gets Winnie to calm down to the point where she's not running on the walls. “You don't want to be too worn out for Bluey, do you?” he asks, and it works – mostly.
He still thinks he can see her vibrating in place, but he gets a glass of water in both of them before they head towards the park, Winnie dancing around and around him in her eagerness.
Bandit and Bluey are there first, and Bandit looks about as exhausted as Fido feels.
“Morning, Fido,” he says with a half-wave, and winces at the girls' dual yell of joy as they see each other and dash off to the slides.
“Morning, Mr. Heeler,” Fido replies as he takes his seat on the bench, and Bandit snorts at him before dropping onto the bench next to him.
“That's Dr. Heeler to you, if you're gonna be like that.”
Fido blinks, his mouth suddenly dry. Doctor? He's a doctor? One Bandit Heeler keeps moving further out of his league, and that's still ignoring the fact that he's already married. And sitting next to him.
His eyes track over the playground, finally settling on Winnie. He promised her they'd invite Bandit and Bluey to breakfast.
There was no way in hell he was going to break her heart and back out.
“Hey, mate. You all right in there?”
Fido blinks and shrugs, trying to paste a believable smile on his face. “Eh, just thinking, you know? It's a real shame Winnie and Bluey aren't in the same school.”
Bandit nods, apparently taking him at face value and giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. The touch sends electric thrills up and down Fido's back, enough that he has to focus on what his friend is saying. “Yeah, same. There's always next year, right? Could look into changing schools for her.”
“Yeah, well... before that...” Fido takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, tries to ignore how Bandit is looking at him. “You want to come over this morning? For breakfast?”
Bandit's smile forms slowly but broadly, and it warms Fido in ways he hadn't expected, and tentatively he smiles back. “I'd love to, mate.” The next thing he says makes Fido's smile freeze. “Let me just call Chilli so she's not expecting us back until later, all right?”
Fido nods jerkily as Bandit stands up and takes out his phone, turning his eyes away and deliberately trying not to listen in.
“Hey, Chilli, Fido's asked me and Bluey over for brekkie, and – … Well of course I'm going! … No I'm not going to – … Chilli, please, it's just breakfast!” Bandit sighs and Fido glances over curiously. The blue heeler isn't paying any attention to him, but is that embarrassment on his face? “I'm not going to do anything like – … look, I'll see if he's okay with that, all right?” He sighs again and hangs up, and Fido tries his best to look like he hadn't been listening in.
“Something the matter?”
Bandit shakes his head. “Nah, just... Chilli wants to know if you wanna come over for dinner some time this weekend? She, uh...” Bandit scratches the back of his neck, shoulders tense, and watches Bluey running circles around the small table that had been their cafe, then newsroom, and now seemed to be the focal point of another mysterious game. “She said she could watch the kids for a bit if you wanted to, you know...”
Fido's eyes widen.
“You know, have a bit of time to yourself. Or, uhm...”
Fido thinks his heart's stopped as he listens to Bandit fumble his words.
“Or if you want to spend some with me, you know? Some guy time?”
“Sure,” he says, tongue moving without any input from his brain, “that sounds great.”
Bandit relaxes slightly, letting out a breath he didn't seem to realize he'd been holding. “Great. Great, yeah, we can hammer out the time and stuff during the week...” he smiles again. “Gotta get over to your place before it gets too late, yeah?”
“Oh, yeah!”
Fido half-expects corralling the kids to take longer, but Bluey being informed that the promised visit to Winnie's home was happening now has her practically pulling her father along. Bandit, to his credit, takes it in stride and laughs the entire way, his pointing out that they had to follow the others since they didn't know where the apartment was falling on deaf ears.
Winne practically drags Bluey up the steps, ignoring their fathers' calls to slow down, and Bandit and Fido exchange a glance and a half-smile. Kids, eh?
Fido unlocks the door and pushes it open, heart thumping. It's an apartment. Two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a living room, nothing compared to the Heelers' house. It's not impressive. It looks downright paltry. It's –
“You've done a nice job, mate,” Bandit says as he looks the living room over. “Managed to keep it clean, I know how much of a problem that can be with just one little terror,” he jokes as he ruffles the top of Bluey's head. She huffs in indignation, but is distracted further by Winnie pulling her into her bedroom to show it off.
Fido thinks he sees Bandit's gaze settle briefly on the stick in a jar in the kitchen – the “sugar packet” from the park – but nothing is said about it as Fido starts preparing breakfast.
It's nothing impressive, nothing like the cooked spread that Bandit and Chilli had provided, and Fido feels a pang of insecurity over it, but he does his best with the toasted waffles and microwaved breakfast sandwiches.
Bandit doesn't seem to mind, sitting at the table, head on his hands, as he watches the other man bustle back and forth from kitchen to living room, setting out the plates, silverware, the food...
“Dad, look what Winnie has! CHATTERMAX!” shrieks Bluey, as she dashes out to show off what she's discovered in Winnie's room.
Bandit's face loses all expression, and his voice is completely flat, drained of all color and intonation. “Oh. You've got one too.”
Fido winces and gives his visitor a weak smile. “Sorry, Winnie begged and begged, and...”
“Oh, I know,” Bandit grouses. “Bluey was the same way.”
The toaster dings and Fido takes that as an excuse to call the two girls over and get them seated before plating the waffles and settling in his own seat.
The first thing Bandit does is reach for the banana bread and take a slice, looking it over. “It's a bit rough on the outside,” he says before taking a bite, and then looking up to meet Fido's eyes. “But the inside's wonderful.”
Fido smiles back, unsure exactly how to sort through the emotions welling up inside him. Exuberance, perhaps, and a warmth he can't quite place. “I made extra,” he offers. “You should take some home to Chilli and Bingo.”
Bandit's smile broadens again, and his voice is soft. “Thanks, mate. I think I will.”