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He threw his hands up in mock defense, grinning wider. "Hey, it was you who overfed him with peanuts!"
"It was your idea to introduce peanuts in the first place!" I shot back, a giggle escaping my lips.
"Alright, alright," he conceded, still chuckling. "Next time, we'll stick to a 'peanut-free' policy."
Our laughter still echoing in the air, Mike and I returned to our seats as the spotlight shifted to the Daddies. Surprisingly, amongst the throng of confident Daddies, I caught sight of Hank. He was onstage next to Joe, his tall frame starkly contrasting with Mike's jovial Daddy.
"Hank and Daddy are like two peas in a pod," Mike commented, his fingers pointing at the two men standing under the spotlight, "Always together, inseparable."
I watched with growing interest as Hank and Uncle Joe launched into their act, their camaraderie palpable. Hank was playing a guitar while Joe provided a surprisingly good harmony. Their performance was as synchronized as their friendship. Mike kept up a steady stream of hilarious commentary about Joe’s performance.
"Look at my Daddy, always a beat behind," he chuckled, nudging me. "Uncle Hank's going to have to save him."
Despite my best efforts, my gaze kept drifting towards Hank. Even under the harsh spotlight, his features were striking. The way his strong fingers strummed the guitar, the furrow in his brows as he concentrated, his rich baritone complementing Joe's harmony - all of it made my heart flutter, confusing my emotions.
An unexpected thought flitted through my mind as I watched him, a vivid image of me nestled against him, a binky in my mouth, his strong arms carrying me around with the same ease as he carried his guitar. I could almost feel the safety those strong arms promised, the warmth that his stern exterior hid.
I was pulled from my reverie by Mike's exuberant cheer as Hank and Joe finished their performance. Joe returned to us, looking slightly winded but thoroughly satisfied. Mike clambered onto his lap, singing praises for his Daddy’s talent, to which Joe chuckled heartily.
"You were really brave on stage, Daddy," Mike promised, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'll give you a special treat later."
Joe laughed heartily, ruffling Mike's hair with a fond smile. "I'm the Daddy, remember. I'm supposed to give you the treats, not the other way around."
The talent show buzzed on, but with Hank's return, the atmosphere around our corner felt suddenly charged. He eased himself onto the seat next to us, his gaze alternating between the ongoing performances and our little trio. The intimidating aura he radiated earlier seemed to have softened.
Joe and Mike, on the other hand, were engaged in a lively debate. "My comedy was better than your singing and dancing, Daddy!" Mike retorted, sticking out his tongue for effect.
Joe chuckled, raising an eyebrow at his audacious Little. "You think so? I don't remember your act getting a standing ovation, kiddo."
Despite my better judgment, my eyes wandered back to Hank, drinking in the sight of him. He was strong and rugged, a contradiction of hard angles and soft smiles, and his charm was hard to resist.
I chided myself inwardly for this sudden fascination. The memory of his brusque behavior still lingered, a sharp reminder that I should keep my guard up. But those stern lines around his mouth had softened, replaced by a gentle curve that hinted at the man he could be beyond the rough exterior.
As the event transitioned into a brief intermission, Mike seemed to embrace his role as the resident commentator. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he pointed to a group of Littles huddled together, all colorful onesies and wide-eyed innocence.
"That's the 'cookie thieves' gang. They're notorious for sneaking into the kitchenette and stealing cookies," Mike warned, but his tone was teasing, as if the idea of a gang of cookie-stealing Littles was more amusing than threatening.
"And over there," he continued, his gaze turning towards another bunch, "are the friendliest Littles you'll ever meet. They'll smother you with hugs the moment they meet you. But beware, they might also convince you to join their endless games of tag."
"And then there's Lucy," he added, pointing to a Little dressed in a rainbow romper. "She once filled the Daddy lounge with so many balloons, Uncle Nick had to wade through them to reach the door!"
His anecdotes painted a colorful picture of the community, each individual's quirks and antics coming to life through Mike's words.
My resolve wavered when I heard Hank's chuckle at Mike’s commentary, a soft sound that rumbled from his chest, a soothing rhythm that was impossible to ignore. I looked at him, my heart caught in the whirlwind of emotions he elicited.
Once again, the talent show came alive in a new way as Mike wiggled his way to the center stage for a solo performance. The room, brimming with anticipation, quieted down as his vibrant energy filled the space. I watched as he clambered onto a chair, elevating his small form to the eye level of the audience.
"Ladies, gentlemen, Littles, and Daddies," he began with a dramatic flourish, his voice booming with an exaggerated authority. "Prepare to have your minds blown. For tonight, Mike the Magnificent is here to unveil the mystifying secrets of the universe!"
With a magician's grandeur, he beckoned a group of Littles towards him. They crawled over, curious and wide-eyed, and formed a semi-circle around him.
"Do any of you have a dollar to spare?" Mike asked, his tone serious. After a few seconds of rummaging in their pockets, dollar notes of varying conditions were held up.
Mike, with a teasing wink, plucked the bills from their fingers. He held them up, displaying them to the crowd before folding them in his palms.
"Watch closely now, everyone," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "For this money is about to embark on a journey into the great unknown!"
He clapped his hands together, and when he opened them, the dollar notes had disappeared. A gasp rippled through the room, followed by a flurry of astonished whispers. The Littles stared at him, eyes as wide as saucers, their faces the perfect picture of awe and confusion.
