vibrant

thirteen; picture perfect daughter

"How many gay stereotypes do you think you're reinforcing by doing your daughter's hair and makeup for this party?" Reid sarcastically asks, leaning into the mirror in front of him as he does up his flower-printed bowtie.

    Michael, who is currently wrapping a section of Ophelia's long blonde hair around a curling wand, looks over at his husband with a raised brow, "How many gay stereotypes do you think you're reinforcing by being catty and calling me out?" Reid smiles and rolls his eyes, and Michael fiddles with the newly formed curl, "Besides, this stereotype helped me pay my way through grad school. Where did you work again?"

    "Not in front of our daughter."

    Ophelia raises her brows at this, looking up from her sketchbook on her lap, "Why aren't we saying things in front of your daughter?"

    "Oh don't worry sweetie," Michael assures, "Dr. Bowman, esteemed cardio thorastic surgeon, is just insecure about the fact that he-"

    "You better stop-"

    "-Was a male stripper during his undergrad," Michael finishes, making Ophelia's jaw drop and an uncomfortable feeling wash over her as Reid shakes his head at his husband. Michael holds up the curling wand, using it to point at Reid, "Don't tie me to a stereotype again, or I swear I'll tell Ophelia about what really happened on our honeymoo-"

"That's enough," Reid loudly says, making Michael give him a smug expression, "Just, please, get ready. The car will be here soon," But, before he leaves the bathroom, he turns, "And at least I left school debt-free."

With a chuckle, Michael's attention returns to Ophelia's hair. She had been sitting on a kitchen stool in her Dad's bathroom for the better part of two hours. The only thing she found herself able to sketch were doodles of a certain boy behind bars, so, she decided to just flip through the book at her past drawings instead. Somehow, both of her dads had found out and she had gotten another speech from Reid about how she needs to find better friends and that the Pogues will never get his approval. This resulted in Ophelia shutting him out for a few hours and hiding at Kiara's house until she absolutely had to get ready. Since then, Reid apologized, and they're on okay terms going into the biggest party of the summer. A party that Ophelia desperately wishes she could miss.

"Why do I have to go to this again?" Ophelia asks, looking into the mirror at her reflection. Michael had painted a fresh face of makeup on her, still fairly natural, but definitely more than she's ever put on herself.

Michael releases another curl, "Because. We're members of the Island Club, and we were invited," The man pauses, inspecting his work before deciding to touch up another lock of hair, "It's a party. Parties are fun."

"Not when everyone there already hates you."

"Kiara will be there, she doesn't hate you."

Ophelia sends her dad a tight smile through the mirror, "Great. One person."

"Please, just stick it out and be the picture perfect daughter we can brag about for one night," Michael pleads, setting down the curling wand and turning it off. He picks up a can of hair spray, "That's all we're asking of you."

"Don't you think that's a tall order?"

"Not for you," Michael sprays the curls, and Ophelia holds her breath, not wanting to breathe in the mist. After a few seconds, he sets down the can and says, "Go put on your dress and shoes, then come back."

Obliging, Ophelia heads to her bedroom, where the dress is laid out on her bed. It's a very light, pearl pink with a beautifully subtle floral lace pattern. The bodice is tight, and it flares out at the waist, coming down to Ophelia's mid thigh. The top of it is beautiful, it's off the shoulder with a panel of lace that hangs over the bodice and Ophelia's upper arms, almost acting as a sleeve. When she puts in on, she feels pretty. Zipping it up, Ophelia looks at herself in the mirror, feeling like a different person. She puts the heels on, they're just a simple nude pair. She had painted some pink flowers on the heel of each shoe for a subtle flare.