"Spackle," I explained quietly, calmly, to my son as we sat on the floor with our legs crossed on this table cloth I thought was horrendous enough to use as a paint drop, "is a gentle, delicate beast," I stirred it, holding it up at the light. "It must be used often," I let some trip off the little wielder I had for it, "but with great care." I felt like a great craftsman, using the little flat edger I had in my hand. Like a gentle pixie with a wand, and not a 20-something in flannel.

"So, you haven't spackled anything before either?" Luke asked innocently. I gave him a flat look, splitting him into little kid giggles. The sound used to annoy me, but now it just added heat to my face, bubbles in my own chest. Laughter bubbles…not like, gas.

"Why don't we ask Arnold how to do this?" My son asked, putting his chin in his hand.

"Because we don't need men-" I was going to tell my son we don't need men for anything. Then I remembered he is a tiny, little man in training. A Puppy Man. "en-trained professiona-, okay, nope. Need those too. Uh-" Luke blinked at me. "Because spackle doesn't like Arnold." I told him finally.

"Really." He asked flatly.

"Yeah, it told me." I nodded solemnly.

Luke nodded solemnly. We stared at each other. I was running out of game ideas. In fact, I had no idea what kind of bullshit logic told me that spackle was a suitable game idea.

"So…" Luke hummed, "can I invite Matt over?"

"Is this a trick so you can get Arnold to show you how spackle works?" I actually knew Arnold couldn't be at our house at the moment. He did have a job. Like I did, but he couldn't do his job at 2 in the morning with surplus wine and the indulgent of many cheese crackers.

"No," Luke fiddled with his shoelaces. Boy needed a haircut real bad, It was hanging in his face, growing past his ears, the thick, dark waves. "Me and Matt are building something."

I sighed. "I'll text Lila, how about that? Go… pick up your room." I said as I stood up, offering a hand down to Luke with a forlorn glance at the amount of holes and small dents left in our wall that I had not managed to best with spackle. That was a lie, about texting Lila. I was currently ignoring Lila. Because she decided we were the kind of friends that text each other Buzzfeed articles and pinterest things. I didn't know much in this life, but I DID know that Lila's favorite animal, according to her favorite foods, was a sheep. Thank the fucking Lord.

"My room is clean." He had a furrowed brow.

"Have you windexed the windows?"

"Yes."

"Have you swept under the bed?"

"Two days ago."

FUCK kid, who's fucking kid are you anyway? CLEARLY not mine, and we must have gotten mixed up at the hospital. I would have taken this idea more seriously if the blue eyes staring back at me weren't a carbon copy of my own. Because I highly doubted babies, and children, of course, were that adept at color contacts.

"Go read a thing."

"A thing?"

"Many things." I told him vaguely. "All things." Please, child. I love you more than anything that exists and I would choose you over everything, but please, go find a way to entertain yourself.

He looked ready to argue with me, but then he shook his head and turned to head upstairs. Hopefully he did manage to read all things.

My phone buzzed. In what way had I managed to give Lila the impression that I was ever in my life going to be the kind of person who cuts oranges into shapes for children? I almost wanted to ask her, so I could knock whatever sort of behavior that was the hell off.

I texted her quickly, with a graceful, and eloquent, where are the kids at text. I thought about texting an orange emoji for the sake of politeness, but decided any encouragement of that habit was just too risky.

My phone was ringing then. Since when was it common etiquette to call people after a simple text message? Lila was arguably the most exhausting person that ever existed. Except like, politicians. And the Kool-Aid Man.

"HELGA," She answered exuberantly. I winced and held my phone a few inches away from my face. "I was worried you weren't getting my texts!"

"Oh yeah," I felt SO caught! She was just going to call me out like this?! "Well, I'm afraid of oranges, so…"

"What?"

"Where are the kids at?" I diverted, like the smooth-ass quick thinker I was.

"Uhm, with the babysitter."

"The babysitter?" Babysitter was arguably one of the worst terms in the world. The least coherent. Or maybe the definition of babysitting had drastically changed. Or the first people to acquire a babysitter had some weird-ass family values.

"She's young. Nice, I think." Lila explained as if I had asked for a character profile of said babysitter. "19? 20? Maybe? Summer job. All that. Got strong elbows." Lila, in all her faults, made a concerted effort to see the best in people. "They're, if I have any guess, probably at his parent's house."

"Where are Stella and Miles?"

"Puerto Vallarta," she replied, "something on about the effects of tourism on natural-"

Cool, but I don't care, I thought to myself "alright well," I interrupted. "Tell her she's off the hook, I'm coming for the kids."

"Arnold doesn't really plan to be off till late tonight," Lila warned me carefully, "after physical work today he's got a consultation at 5 and a meeting with a development committee at a bar after." She was reading from some, Helga was sure, neatly organized paper. I wouldn't call it unlikely that a majority of it was filled out with glitter gel pen.

"Yes well," I waved Luke down from the top of the bannister, pointing to my shoes in a signal for him to put shoes on. "He knows where I live."

"Right, let me just pencil this in real quickly: let Arnold know, children have been yet again kidnapped…"

I wanted to be mad, but I snorted. Luke did not pick up my shoe message, he was still watching me curiously. I did this odd, hopping dance thing, while pointing at my feet. His confusion grew.

"Just call me a public endangerment," I told her with a grin.

"Oh, Helga…" she replied sympathetically, "we already do that."

When I pulled up the kids were outside. Matt had a backwards Star Wars helmet on his head and held a make shift bow in his hand made out of a stick and some yarn. Rosie was wearing a tutu over top of a teenage mutant ninja turtle costume. She had what appeared to be a tiny slingshot. It was some of my favorite looks I've seen on the kids.

They had curious little faces as I got out of the car, and then opened the door for Luke.

"HEY GUYS!" Luke shouted as he basically popped out of my car.

Matthew's face lit up immediately "ARE WE GETTING KIDNAPPED AGAIN?" He yelled with excitement.

I really had to teach these kids: a. kidnapping was not something to actually show enthusiasm for, and b. nor was it something to shout about in suburban neighborhoods.

"Where's the babysitter?" I asked, looking around the lawn for her.

"I dunno." Matt shrugged. Beautiful display of child care, yet again, Arnold really knew how to pick 'em.

"Busy," added Rose, "we're playing the game, you be the gobument?"

"They're the bad guys." Matt added solemnly. It was only then I realized the word Rosie delightfully garbled was government- and I didn't know what was sadder, that I only realized it then, or that they were the bad guys in the first place.

"I'm gonna go check on Sarah," I put a hand on Luke's head, ruffling his hair a little bit. "Watch for cars, please."

"Okay," Matt shrugged. Luke had run off, likely, foraging for a weapon.

"Wait, is that really her name?" I asked as I made for the house again. Matt shrugged again. Sarah was doing a brilliant job, really.

"Sarah," I called in a sing-songy way as I walked through their cluttered entry way. Papers on one table, blueprints taking up the entirety of a coffee table, the floor being mostly claimed by toys. "Mackeeeenziieee," I trotted up the stairs, aware for the first time I had never really been in this house. "Jessicaaaa-" It had to be one of these names. They were such babysitter names. I passed by what had to be Matt's room, then clearly Rosie's. I was starting to give up faith that Rebecca was even here, before I realized a light was on at the corner at the hall, a creaked door barely open.

Ashley was sitting on the floor of the room, surrounded by something that I certainly didn't know what it was but I knew it was none of her goddamn business. She had her headphones in, dark hair in a pony tail on the back of her head, lightly bopping to the beat of Justin Direction, or whatever.

I saw something familiar, just behind her by the door. The room had to have been Arnold's. It was too small to be a masters and too large to be anything else. I picked up the copy of our class photo. Ours was a term used lightly, as I did not attend the photoshoot. .

"HEY," I shouted over the music "SAMANTHA."

She jumped up, scrambling to her feet, looking defensive. She stepped over the documents, grabbing the edge of the bed frame, holding out her hands warily. "MY HUSBAND IS IN THE SHOWER." She shouted at me, fear cracking her tough exterior.

"Girl," I wrinkled my face up with confusion, "what?"

She looked a little older than Lila had mentioned she was, but just barely. She had a little face, small eyes, and thin appendages. Her hair was brown, but she clearly didn't want it to be, and she had this somewhat tacky, blunt attempt at an ombre effect in her hair. The ear buds she had ripped out of her ears were sitting on the floor, poppy sounds still floating out of them. Made my foot tap involuntarily. I fucking hated pop music, it was like that one spot you could scratch a dog and its foot would wiggle in the most undignified way- except on people.

"Did Lila not call you? I'm here for the kids. My kid is pals with them…a real three musketeers they've become." I told her, eying the piles she had made on the floor. Old pictures, documents. Definitely not things that were hers. "You have an interesting babysitting technique."

"Please don't tell Mr. Shortman." She asked me carefully, looking like she wanted to jump out of the window.

"Mr. Who?" I asked as I picked up a pile. Pictures from high school, what could be better.

"Their Dad?" She asked, squinting at me, just questioning my story for the first time. Which she should have had more doubt about, frankly. We all should have gotten on that "password" thing.

"Oh, right. Shorty," I snorted, "I forgot about that." I walked over, grinning at the picture in my hand of when Arnold was quite short, at least in comparison to Gerald and Stinky. "You should be more careful, I could have been anybody."

"No, you couldn't have been." She replied, staring at me.

"How's that?" I asked, laughing at the picture of Gerald and Phoebe after their senior homecoming. I wasn't sure if I had ever saw Gerald so happy. Except, maybe, the one time we dipped oreos in peanutbutter before putting them in an smores and he cried about it.

"Uh," she shuffled forward, grabbing another photo of the ground awkwardly, "because of this one," she handed me a photo. She had many dangling bracelets on. I wasn't sure I understood that trend. Couldn't you make the statement you were trying to make, that she was trying too hard, with one dangling bracelet? Was multiples really necessary?

The photo was Arnold, still just barely my height, in front of a Christmas tree. With me and my parents. That was a strange Christmas. I had almost entirely forgotten about it. I sat there with it in my hands, wondering how deep my self awareness was at the time. Had I known about Arnold and wanted to rub it in? Had I not?

We, at the time, were so physically incompatible. It seemed like my biceps were bigger than his thighs, although I'm sure that was a bit of an overreaction. We didn't look like a couple at all. Probably because we weren't really.

"Are you her sister, then?" Caitlin asked, quietly, sitting next to me on the bed.

"Who's sister?" she had a photo of Meredith in her hands. "No." I replied quickly. Couldn't be further from it if she had a picture of Gerald in her hands.

"You look a little bit like…"

"Actually, she looks like me, but that's beside the point." I straightened up, reaching over to pluck the picture out of her hands. "Now, tell me what you were doing with all of this and not watching the kids?" I felt like a boss ass bitch as I knew I intimidated her by not looking at her as I strutted away to recollect all the photos and documents on the floor. I spied an open box by her cabinet, must have been her source.

"I was just curio-"

"Ah, yes. As we all know the saying goes, curiosity killed the children." I gave her a blunt stare. I shuffled the photo of me to the back of the pile, which had nothing to do with me and Arnold and everything to do with the fact I had this god-awful hairstyle going on. It was almost like I killed and subsequently skinned a muppet, and then decided to wear it's hair as a prize and a show of dominance to all the other muppets.

She licked her lips, "fine." She straightened her shoulders, stood up in a way that annoyed me when literally anyone did it let alone little Miss Nancy Drew over here, "I was planning on asking Mr….Arnold, out." She picked up the box with haughty little posture, as if she'd really like me to examine her figure in her little leggings, "and I was just trying to figure out if I had waited an appropriate amount of time after…" she swallowed while setting the box on the bed, "his wife."

"You?" I tried really hard not to snort, so the word itself came out kind of like a snort. Like a pig that learned English and got it's own Animal Planet special, "Are planning on asking out Mr. Arnold?"

"Arnold." She said more confidently, holding out her hands for what she took out of the box. I tried not to roll my eyes as I handed them to her. "I've been thinking about it for a long time. I think we could be good for each other."

"How old even are you?"

"22."

"Really," I replied dead-panned at her. I would have been more inclined to believe her if she said she were an astronaut with special information that said Arnold was an alien. "What year were you born?"

She blinked, "1994."

"Bullshit," I called it plainly. "You had to think too long about that," I picked up the other pile. "How old are you really?" I shuffled through the photos in my hand, wanting a specific one. One had to have, because I knew he had it somewhere. I just hoped it was in that pile, and not lost in the sands of time. Or winds of time. Whatever. Whatever blank of time you wanted to call it, I hoped it wasn't there.

"How is it," she commented breathily, neatly organizing the box, "any of your business?"

"Because, darling," I victoriously placed the photo on top, snarkily offering Kim the pile, "you want to get to Arnold, you're gonna have to go through me." Which were big words for someone who had just reentered his life a solid month ago. But I had a tendency to talk big when bitches were annoying me, and I was here now, wasn't I? I had this twisted, smug smile on my face as I watched her register the photo in front of her. The one of me, Arnold and Meredith, on the day I introduced them.

"I'm taking the kids now," I told her as I turned around. "Turn out the lights, lock up, and" the smile was still stretched out on my face as I turned back around, "please go be creepy somewhere else, Katie."

"My name isn't-"

"Yeah, I don't care," I shut the door behind me.

I had Rosie on my hip and the boys on either side of me as we strut into the Big Al's. Luke was going over a detailed milkshake dissertation. Milkshakes were serious business, I understood him.

"AJ," I shouted over the clamber of the diner, "GET THE ICE CREAM OUT NOW," I called my fair warning as I pointed Luke in the direction of a booth. Sure we weren't able to bother Aj as easily this way, but I had to think about Rosie. My kid could barely stay on a stool, let alone a kid her age. I sat them down, checking my phone again. It was almost 8 p.m. and I hadn't heard from Lila or Arnold. Which wasn't too big of a deal, because they told me they were busy tonight and I took the kids anyway because admittedly I had no idea what to do with Luke that didn't involve spackle. We had built a large nest in the middle of the floor of our living room to watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on, grabbing blankets and pillows and whatever we could find and just dumping them into the room. Worst comes to worst, I supposed there was no real reason we couldn't sleep there. Rosie was barely staying upright in the booth.

"Yeah, yeah, Pataki-" he walked backwards through the push doors, then carried a large tray directly to a table on the opposite side of the room. "I knew you were comin', the glasses of water started rippling."

I snorted as the boys started deliberating qualities of milkshakes.

"How about," I suggested, leaning forward, running my hand through Rosie's soft hair. "You get two different ones and share." I loved suggesting perfectly logical stuff to children, because the look on their faces suggested I might have well executed the moon landing. Like it was the best fucking idea they had ever heard. "We'll share one, how's that?" I said just to Rose. She nodded with a yawn.

"Alright, now that you're done terrorizing the village people what can I get y-" AJ looked up at my gang for the first time, "dear god," He said with a terrified whisper "they've multiplied."

"Ugh, I WISH," Luke groaned, putting his chin in his hand, "wouldn't that be AWESOME?"

"Uh," AJ muttered, "I think I'm gonna go with a hard pass on that one."

I let the boys annoy him as I checked my phone again. FINALLY a text from Arnold.

"I'm leaving the bar," it read, "but I think I'm gonna have Lila come pick up the kids. I think there's something going on here you'd want to see."

a/n hi y'all if this doesn't post like normal like the last one didnt i think ill LoSe my mind but SHOUTOUT if u got 2 chapters to read today!

next week i'm going to post part one of the two shot prequel (!) for this fic. it'll be called Rule 1 & 1/2 and it'll be posted on wednesday or probably thursday morning by my standards. if you want to read that uh idk if there's a way to get a notification, other than just following me as an author. but yes! that'll be #fun ! but it's only a 2 shot because... clearly you know how it's going to end, lol.

ok thank u for reading & i love u so much if u leave reviews or send me messages u make the world turn ya really do and it helps me stay motivated.

cheers! xx k.