Prompt Post: ROUND FIVE

[oakenshields13]

ROUND FIVE IS CLOSED

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this is only now (where do we go from here) 6/?

[anonymous]

"Scott, what did I say about putting away your toys?" Hank calls from living room where he's currently busy tripping over a veritable landfill of Scott's things. He can't fathom how Scott's managed to accumulate so many things because he can't remember buying half of this stuff. He decides to blame Raven, and Charles on principle. Possibly Sean as well.

"I can't do it, dad! My arm hurts!" Scott replies from the kitchen where, when Hank peeks in on him, he's alternating between shoving Spaghetti-Os in his mouth and playing with his Nintendo DSi.

It's instances like this that reinforces that dreadful feeling that he's a terrible, terrible parent and that any moment now Child Services will take Scott away because Hank's been feeding him chemical-laden pasta out of a can and rotting his brain with video games he'd been talked into buying by Scott himself on the argument that said gaming device prides itself in being especially suited for educational exercises then up and stuffing Angry Birds and Plants vs Zombies into pile during checkout.

Hank can only hope that most parents share his justifiable fear that he is raising a conman.

"And it doesn't hurt when you play video games?" Hank says from the doorway.

Scott looks up at him, eyes big and blue and projecting innocence. "I'm not moving my arm! And you said I had to finish my dinner."

Hank opens his mouth, ready to launch into a spiel of how he'd asked Scott to pick his toys up before they'd even started dinner but then decides that it isn't worth it. "Okay, fine. But next time? Please listen to me and do as I ask and don't put it off at last minute."

Scott nods vigorously. "Sorry, dad, it won't happen again," he says, and Hank's didn't know what it felt like to run into a brick wall over and over again until he decided to raise a child.

"Dude," Raven calls from the hallway outside his bedroom, which makes Hank re-assess his conclusion because being Raven's friend? Is exactly like raising a child and repetitively running into a brick wall. "Get back in here. We still haven't picked out a shirt for you."

"We've been at it since you walked in the door and that was hours ago," Hank - and he is not at all ashamed to admit this - whines.

Raven rolls her eyes at him and shoves him the rest of the way into his bedroom. "You want to get laid? You gotta put in some effort. Highlight those assets."

"No, you want me to get laid."

"It's for the good of us all; you're such a pissy bitch when you aren't getting any."

"That's specious. I haven't got any in close to a year now." Hank flops down onto his bed.

"My point exactly," Raven replies, blithe. "Now, which one?" She holds out three dress shirts. "Blue to bring out your eyes, red to highlight those blowjob lips or white as a plain backdrop to highlight everything?"

"Oh, God, why," Hank moans. "You are a terrible, terrible person and I hate you."

Raven shrugs. "Hey, with Charles as a brother, you pick these things up. And it works! You can't argue with the results. This process made him the town bicycle and it bagged him the most eligible guy in town."

Hank rubs the bridge of his nose. "Why do you tell me these things? Why?"

"Someone's gotta knock Charles off that pedestal in your head." She throws a shirt at his head. "So it's decided. White, because you need all the help you can get. Also, keep doing that at Brian."

"What thing?"

"That whole, hand and eye thing you do," Rave gestures madly. "Draws a lot of attention to those gorgeous eyes," she says, pinching his cheeks. "Charles does that hand and mouth thing, which is more effective, in my opinion because men are dogs but I think that's way too advanced for you."

"I hate you, go away," Hank says, pulling on his shirt and buttoning it up, physically fighting Raven over how many buttons should be left undone because he may be desperate but he isn't easy.