Just a bit of Daddy!Drake fluff. ;)

The house was eerily silent. Drake hadn't noticed until now because he'd been enveloped in answering e-mails for a little while, but the silence scared him. Yes, it was golden, and yes, it had given him some working time, but when you have a three year old, complete quiet was usually seen as a bad thing.

"Monkey?" Drake called, getting up from the couch and starting toward the stairs. "What are you doing?" No reply. "Monkey? What are you doing?" Still nothing. "KYSON!"

"In here, Daddy!" the boy laughed, and Drake warily followed his son's voice into the kitchen.

His eyes widened at the sight as he instinctively stepped back. "What the fuck?" he sputtered, immediately regretting his choice of vocabulary.

"The doggies were hungry!" was Kyson's defense.

The doggies were hungry. The doggies were hungry. That didn't seem to fully explain why the floor was covered in milk, juice, water, and Cheerios spread sporadically across the hardwood. Kyson sat happily amongst the mess, petting one of the dogs. The dog didn't look too happy, though; he looked at Drake with pleading eyes and wet fur that was spiked up. "Kyson Lennon Parker," Drake growled through gritted teeth. "Come here."

Kyson slowly got up and shuffled to Drake with his tail between his legs. Drake was rubbing his face in his hands as he surveyed the damage, trying to figure out where to begin. The floor was flooded and the poor dogs were walking around in the sticky mess waiting to be rescued. Not only would the two dogs need a bath, but Kyson would, too. He sighed heavily, kneeling down to be eye level with his son. "What did you do?"

"The doggies were hungry," he whimpered, not making eye contact. "I made 'em food."

"The doggies were not hungry," Drake replied sternly, trying to keep his cool. "The doggies were just fed. Dog food, not people food."

"But…"

"But nothing. You're not supposed to play in the kitchen, and you know that." Looking over at the mess and seeing the Cheerios, something else struck Drake. "Did you climb on a chair to get the cereal?" Kyson nodded sheepishly. "You know you're not supposed to do that! You could've gotten really hurt, Kyson."

"Daddy, I'm sorry." The boy's lip trembled and tears began to fall down his cheeks. "Are you mad at me?"

"Yeah, I am, but thank you for the apology." Drake wiped Kyson's tears, replacing them with kisses. He sighed again, trying to think of a reasonable plan. This had exceeded all expectations of what he had thought might happen – why couldn't he have a normal child who tried to write on the walls? That would've taken a few seconds to clean up, not hours like this mess. "If you help me clean all this up, then help me wash the doggies, I'll forgive you. Does that sound okay?"

Kyson nodded feebly, looking at Drake with broken blue eyes. "Okay. Do you still love me?"

"I'll always love you, kiddo, but that doesn't mean I'll like everything you do," Drake told him, pulling the boy into his arms and hugging him tightly. "Now you can come help me clean this up." He got up and looked around, running his hand through his hair. He was completely perplexed at where to even start. All Drake knew was that there was a lot of work ahead of them and a lot of paper towels were about to be used.

"God," he moaned. "This is such a mess." Drake tried to step around it to rescue the dogs to no avail. His socks were soaked by the time he was pulling the dogs out of the puddles. They barked happily and licked him as he put them in a gated room, away from everything.

"Sorry, Daddy."

"Yeah." He sighed again, grabbing a few paper towels and handing them to Kyson. "Start cleanin'. You need a bath after we bathe the doggies, by the way."

Kyson scrunched up his face in displeasure. "Do I have to?"

"Kyson," Drake said, exasperated. "You have Cheerios in your hair. You need a bath."

"But…"

"Not in the mood to argue," Drake answered darkly, trying to sop up some of the mess with the handful of paper towels he held. "Bath. After we clean this up and after we clean the dogs. No excuses."

Kyson nodded obediently. "Sorry," he mumbled, attempting to wipe things up like Drake was doing.

"Just why?" Drake asked aloud to no one in particular as he felt Kyson's concoction seep through his jeans. He winced as he felt the cold against his knees.

"I wanted to help you with the doggies," the boy retorted, not understanding the concept of a rhetorical question.

"Next time you want to help, PLEASE promise you'll ask me first, okay?"

Kyson nodded and looked at Drake with an apologetic expression. "I will. Sorry."

Drake leaned over and kissed his son's forehead. He'd never seen him look so genuinely upset and sad. "You can stop saying you're sorry." He offered him a smile. "I understand that you are, buddy. I'm just frustrated."

"Okay." He nodded again.

"We can have some fun cleaning this up, you know," Drake grinned, seeing how dejected Kyson looked. He was still angry, but he couldn't help feeling bad that he looked so ridiculously upset.

Kyson's face noticeably brightened. "REALLY?"

"CATCH!" Drake laughed, crumpling up the soaking wet paper towel into a ball and throwing it at the boy.

"DADDY!" Kyson giggled hysterically, returning the gesture and throwing his paper towel at Drake as the laughter spread. Amidst the mess, they laughed until they cried.