Peter K and Lara Jean Oneshots

12 Tapes for a Penny

As Peter got older, he believed that his mother didn't trust him in certain aspects of his life - although he doesn't blame her...

Peter had some kind of suspicion over why, and also how, Owen was able to get so many tapes in the recent weeks.

The postman arrived at the door, and when Julia Kavinsky answered it, the postman said, "Got a package for Papa Smurfenstein,"

A confused look came over her, "I think you have the wrong address," he tells the postman.

"I suppose that means there's also no Inspector Gidget?" he asks, considering he was holding a pile of boxes.

"No," Julia says, with the postman then rattling off some more names of packages and she denied them.

"Gary Greyskull?"

"No."

"Snake Plotkin?"

"No."

"Ivan Drago?"

"No."

"John McClaneberg?"

"No."

"Hulk Hulkerstein?"

"No."

"General Zod?"

"No."

"Jean Claude Van Thunderdome?"

Julia was now sick of the multiple names being rambled off by their mailman. "What's going on?" She asks, crossing his arms.

Their mailman let out a sigh, whilst holding another box of tapes. "Let me guess. You have teenagers? Well, one of them's been using a lot of fake names to get free tapes," he explained, and it looked like Julia was seeing red.

"Well, I think it's obvious who's responsible," she stated, before slamming the door shut and stomping to go deal with who she believed to be the culprit.

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The tape box was put in front of his daughter, and the blame instantly stuck on her. "Me?!" Peter exclaimed, wondering how the hell he had got stuck with the blame this time - maybe he had done a few bad and very questionable things in the past, but that mainly came down to his ex-girlfriend,

"Yes, you. Who else could it be?" Julia asked, crossing her arms once again as she stared at her culprit. Peter picked up the box and read the name on the label.

"Kermit D Fonz?" Peter asks, looking from the label to his mother. "That has Owen written all over it," he said putting the box back on the table.

She sighed. "You expect me to believe Owen did this?" She asked, looking at her youngest son.

"Yes," he tells her.

"Owen?" She questions again, making sure that she heard her eldest correctly.

He sighs heavily, almost wanting his mother to believe him for once. "Owen," he confirms

"My precious angel," she says, with one of the many cringe-worthy nicknames she has for her youngest son.

He was starting to question her morals. "Yes, Owen,"

"Owen?" She was now pointing at her son, wondering why Peter was blaming Owen.

"He's guilty," he tells his mother, before looking at Owen. "Tell her you're guilty," he tells his brother. Wanting him to admit the truth.

Owen turns on his puppy dog eyes and speaks to her in the young child voice he has grown out of yet. "Why does he say these things, mama? I'm just a little boy," he tells her, and it is the tiny little things that make her melt and essentially bend to his will.