Happy Holidays, Bastloki!
Dec. 24th, 2006 11:35 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
waxbean.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
go_exchangeTitle: every day just (or not quite) like the day before
Recipient:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bastloki
gift from:glass_icarus
Rating: PG for uncomfortable conversations
Words: 1105
It was a nice day. (1) But then, all days in Lower Tadfield tended to be nice.
Squinting at the sun, Adam Young scuffed the heels of his worn trainers against the front steps, scratching absently at Dog's head. It would be Pepper's thirteenth birthday soon. The Them would be teenagers.
The thing was, it hadn't been such a big deal when he and Brian had turned thirteen, because, well. They were Adam and Brian. And Wensleydale's thirteenth birthday, two months after Pepper's, would certainly herald little change, Adam mused, since Wensleydale had a resident forty-year-old living alongside his boydom in his head.
Pepper, though. Pepper was a completely different matter.
His dad, his mum, and Anathema had all sat him down for The Talk. Or rather, his dad had coughed and shuffled his way through a series of increasingly brilliant colours- and increasingly vague statements- at which point, his mum had stepped in and begun a very cheerful and detailed lesson in human anatomy. It had sort of made sense on the male end of things, but her explanation of female anatomy (which apparently involved a lot of complicated words, such as "menstruation" and "ovaries" and "Fallopian tubes") had gone completely over Adam's head. In the end, she'd taken one look at his confused expression and said, "Perhaps you should run along and see Anathema, dear," and retreated into the kitchen to make a phone call. (2) Finally, Adam had taken Dog and wandered over to Anathema's in search of answers.
At Jasmine Cottage, Anathema, usually blunt and forthright, had given him one piercing look and sent him out to the front yard with a plate of chocolate biscuits and some books. When Adam looked at her, confused, she'd said, "I think you've had enough awkward explanations for one afternoon. Let me know if you have questions." Then she'd gone off to distract Dog with a stick and a new chew toy, while Adam sat immersed in his reading.
Adam kicked his heels on the porch and scowled.
The thing was, he didn't like change. Or at least, he didn't want his world to change so fast. That was the whole point of the affair with Heaven and Hell, wasn't it? People shouldn't be messed around with like that. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of these hormone things, messing around with the Them when they were really just fine the way they were. Even though Wensleydale talked about interesting jobs sometimes (3), and Pepper and Brian had frequent arguments over the relative cool of cars and motorbikes, Adam wasn't sure he wanted to grow up and be an adult. (4)
Dog whined and pawed at his knee. Adam shifted his fingers to that spot behind his ears that always made Dog's tongue loll out.
He thought of Pepper, with her fire-engine hair and light freckles that spread if she stayed out too long in the sun (5), the crooked grin that sometimes made Adam's stomach do uncomfortable things. Then he thought of those books, and went a little green. Change was definitely a bad thing.
"Adam! Hey, Adam!" Adam looked up. Pepper waved at him, cherry-flavoured popsicles clutched in one hand, the soles of her trainers flapping as she trudged up the drive. “Budge over.”
"Hey, Pep." He shifted on the steps to make room for her, and she settled down gracelessly, a comfortable pile of flyaway elbows and knees.
"What’re you doin'?"
"Nothing much."
Pepper nudged him, holding out a popsicle. Adam grinned and took it, licking at the drip running down the popsicle stick. Dog looked up at him hopefully. Adam shrugged and held out the popsicle for him to lick.
"Ewww, Adam," Pepper groaned, wrinkling her nose. "Now it's got dog spit all over it."
"So? S'just Dog." Adam took a bite.
Pepper made a strangled noise and buried her face in her knees. "Euuuurgh."
"Tastes the same, anyway." Pepper gave him a disgusted look, then turned back to her own popsicle in a contented cherry-flavoured silence.
"Hey, Pep?"
"Yeah?"
"What’re you doing for your birthday?"
Pepper shrugged, sucking cherry droplets from her fingers. "Same old, same old, I suppose," she replied. "That triple chocolate cake, candles. Prob'ly those stupid party hats. I asked for pirate hats, but Mum'll prob'ly just get me the girly pink ones. Again."
Adam winced sympathetically. "Well, at least you know the cake's good."
"What cake isn't?" She reached across him to scratch Dog's ears, running a thumb along the inside-out one. Dog panted happily and rolled over, showing his belly.
"Maybe they'll get you a bike this year," Adam said after a moment. "You know, now that you're gonna be a teenager an' all."
"Maybe. If they do, it's gonna be a girl's bike. All pink an' sparkly." She sucked the last bit of popsicle off the stick. "I'd rather have one like Anathema's."
Mr. Crowley’s voice popped into Adam’s head for a moment: Oh Lord, heal this bike? Adam bit his cheek and grinned. He hadn’t known that. "Well. Maybe we can ask to borrow it. Just for today."
Pepper looked at him with hopeful eyes. “You think so? Really?”
"Really." He stood up, offering a hand. "We can go over there now, if you like."
Pepper stuck out her tongue to hide her grin. It didn't really work, though, since Adam could see the telltale crinkle at the corners of her eyes. "Race you!" she said, and took off in the direction of Jasmine Cottage, worn soles flapping against the pavement. Adam laughed and started after her, Dog yapping at his heels.
It really was a very nice day.
(1) At least, "nice" in the Agnes Nutter sense, which was to say, as much in keeping as possible with Adam's policy of laissez-faire, though the weather tended to lean slightly in the direction of his general desires at any given point.
(2) Presumably to Jasmine Cottage, if the number of times she'd said "sorry" was any indication. (Adam hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but the kitchen window was wide open, and their house wasn't all that big.)
(3) Or rather, jobs interesting to Wensley. Generally, this involved words like "investment banking," "marketing analyst" or, occasionally, "non-profit environmental organisation." Adam wasn't entirely sure what those things were, but the environmental part appealed to his sense of morality. (As for the banking part, well, Wensley’s dad was an accountant, after all.) Besides, anything that interested the Them couldn't be all that bad.
(4) Or adolescent. Adam wasn’t picky about terms.
(5) Which was always, when she was with Them. The Them loved being outdoors.
Recipient:
bastlokigift from:
glass_icarusRating: PG for uncomfortable conversations
Words: 1105
It was a nice day. (1) But then, all days in Lower Tadfield tended to be nice.
Squinting at the sun, Adam Young scuffed the heels of his worn trainers against the front steps, scratching absently at Dog's head. It would be Pepper's thirteenth birthday soon. The Them would be teenagers.
The thing was, it hadn't been such a big deal when he and Brian had turned thirteen, because, well. They were Adam and Brian. And Wensleydale's thirteenth birthday, two months after Pepper's, would certainly herald little change, Adam mused, since Wensleydale had a resident forty-year-old living alongside his boydom in his head.
Pepper, though. Pepper was a completely different matter.
His dad, his mum, and Anathema had all sat him down for The Talk. Or rather, his dad had coughed and shuffled his way through a series of increasingly brilliant colours- and increasingly vague statements- at which point, his mum had stepped in and begun a very cheerful and detailed lesson in human anatomy. It had sort of made sense on the male end of things, but her explanation of female anatomy (which apparently involved a lot of complicated words, such as "menstruation" and "ovaries" and "Fallopian tubes") had gone completely over Adam's head. In the end, she'd taken one look at his confused expression and said, "Perhaps you should run along and see Anathema, dear," and retreated into the kitchen to make a phone call. (2) Finally, Adam had taken Dog and wandered over to Anathema's in search of answers.
At Jasmine Cottage, Anathema, usually blunt and forthright, had given him one piercing look and sent him out to the front yard with a plate of chocolate biscuits and some books. When Adam looked at her, confused, she'd said, "I think you've had enough awkward explanations for one afternoon. Let me know if you have questions." Then she'd gone off to distract Dog with a stick and a new chew toy, while Adam sat immersed in his reading.
Adam kicked his heels on the porch and scowled.
The thing was, he didn't like change. Or at least, he didn't want his world to change so fast. That was the whole point of the affair with Heaven and Hell, wasn't it? People shouldn't be messed around with like that. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of these hormone things, messing around with the Them when they were really just fine the way they were. Even though Wensleydale talked about interesting jobs sometimes (3), and Pepper and Brian had frequent arguments over the relative cool of cars and motorbikes, Adam wasn't sure he wanted to grow up and be an adult. (4)
Dog whined and pawed at his knee. Adam shifted his fingers to that spot behind his ears that always made Dog's tongue loll out.
He thought of Pepper, with her fire-engine hair and light freckles that spread if she stayed out too long in the sun (5), the crooked grin that sometimes made Adam's stomach do uncomfortable things. Then he thought of those books, and went a little green. Change was definitely a bad thing.
"Adam! Hey, Adam!" Adam looked up. Pepper waved at him, cherry-flavoured popsicles clutched in one hand, the soles of her trainers flapping as she trudged up the drive. “Budge over.”
"Hey, Pep." He shifted on the steps to make room for her, and she settled down gracelessly, a comfortable pile of flyaway elbows and knees.
"What’re you doin'?"
"Nothing much."
Pepper nudged him, holding out a popsicle. Adam grinned and took it, licking at the drip running down the popsicle stick. Dog looked up at him hopefully. Adam shrugged and held out the popsicle for him to lick.
"Ewww, Adam," Pepper groaned, wrinkling her nose. "Now it's got dog spit all over it."
"So? S'just Dog." Adam took a bite.
Pepper made a strangled noise and buried her face in her knees. "Euuuurgh."
"Tastes the same, anyway." Pepper gave him a disgusted look, then turned back to her own popsicle in a contented cherry-flavoured silence.
"Hey, Pep?"
"Yeah?"
"What’re you doing for your birthday?"
Pepper shrugged, sucking cherry droplets from her fingers. "Same old, same old, I suppose," she replied. "That triple chocolate cake, candles. Prob'ly those stupid party hats. I asked for pirate hats, but Mum'll prob'ly just get me the girly pink ones. Again."
Adam winced sympathetically. "Well, at least you know the cake's good."
"What cake isn't?" She reached across him to scratch Dog's ears, running a thumb along the inside-out one. Dog panted happily and rolled over, showing his belly.
"Maybe they'll get you a bike this year," Adam said after a moment. "You know, now that you're gonna be a teenager an' all."
"Maybe. If they do, it's gonna be a girl's bike. All pink an' sparkly." She sucked the last bit of popsicle off the stick. "I'd rather have one like Anathema's."
Mr. Crowley’s voice popped into Adam’s head for a moment: Oh Lord, heal this bike? Adam bit his cheek and grinned. He hadn’t known that. "Well. Maybe we can ask to borrow it. Just for today."
Pepper looked at him with hopeful eyes. “You think so? Really?”
"Really." He stood up, offering a hand. "We can go over there now, if you like."
Pepper stuck out her tongue to hide her grin. It didn't really work, though, since Adam could see the telltale crinkle at the corners of her eyes. "Race you!" she said, and took off in the direction of Jasmine Cottage, worn soles flapping against the pavement. Adam laughed and started after her, Dog yapping at his heels.
It really was a very nice day.
(1) At least, "nice" in the Agnes Nutter sense, which was to say, as much in keeping as possible with Adam's policy of laissez-faire, though the weather tended to lean slightly in the direction of his general desires at any given point.
(2) Presumably to Jasmine Cottage, if the number of times she'd said "sorry" was any indication. (Adam hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but the kitchen window was wide open, and their house wasn't all that big.)
(3) Or rather, jobs interesting to Wensley. Generally, this involved words like "investment banking," "marketing analyst" or, occasionally, "non-profit environmental organisation." Adam wasn't entirely sure what those things were, but the environmental part appealed to his sense of morality. (As for the banking part, well, Wensley’s dad was an accountant, after all.) Besides, anything that interested the Them couldn't be all that bad.
(4) Or adolescent. Adam wasn’t picky about terms.
(5) Which was always, when she was with Them. The Them loved being outdoors.
Tags:
- 2006 exchange,
- adam,
- adam/pepper,
- anathema,
- dog,
- fic,
- gen,
- rating:pg,
- the them
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