FAKE Triple Drabble: Misleading
Title: Misleading
Fandom: FAKE
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ryo, Dee, Bikky, OCs.
Rating: G
Setting: Early in the manga.
Summary: Ryo had just wanted to give Bikky a fun birthday celebration…
Written Using: The dw100 prompt ‘Pandemonium’.
Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters. They belong to the wonderful Sanami Matoh.
A/N: Triple drabble.
Ryo loved Bikky, no question; he was a great kid, and being a dad, even just a foster father to a boy he wasn’t biologically related to, was fulfilling in ways he’d never imagined. But there were times he wondered whether he should have thought things through more carefully instead of impulsively taking the plunge into single parenthood.
The apartment was in a state best described as pandemonium. Ryo had attended quieter, more restrained riots. There were only half a dozen kids milling around the living room, shouting and laughing, shedding crumbs everywhere, but it seemed like four times that many. How could six kids be in so many places at once? They were never still.
The term ‘sleepover’, he decided, was misleading. He seriously doubted any of the young hooligans would be going to sleep any time soon, even though it was almost eleven at night, which was past Bikky’s usual bedtime. On the other hand, it was a Saturday night so there was no school tomorrow, and Ryo wouldn’t be working either. At least he’d had the foresight to book Bikky’s birthday weekend off well in advance because the way things were going, by morning he’d be dead on his feet.
Maybe he should have listened to Dee. His partner had warned him that a birthday sleepover was a bad idea.
“A party, sure; kids expect that. But you’ve gotta be outta your mind lettin’ the little runts spend the night. They’re gonna be hyped from all the sugary foods and you’ll be stuck dealin’ with ‘em instead of sendin’ ‘em home to their parents.”
Well, it was too late now; the kids were as sugar-hyped as Dee had warned him they’d be, and his neighbours were probably about ready to kill him.
He’d know better next year.
The End
Fandom: FAKE
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ryo, Dee, Bikky, OCs.
Rating: G
Setting: Early in the manga.
Summary: Ryo had just wanted to give Bikky a fun birthday celebration…
Written Using: The dw100 prompt ‘Pandemonium’.
Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters. They belong to the wonderful Sanami Matoh.
A/N: Triple drabble.
Ryo loved Bikky, no question; he was a great kid, and being a dad, even just a foster father to a boy he wasn’t biologically related to, was fulfilling in ways he’d never imagined. But there were times he wondered whether he should have thought things through more carefully instead of impulsively taking the plunge into single parenthood.
The apartment was in a state best described as pandemonium. Ryo had attended quieter, more restrained riots. There were only half a dozen kids milling around the living room, shouting and laughing, shedding crumbs everywhere, but it seemed like four times that many. How could six kids be in so many places at once? They were never still.
The term ‘sleepover’, he decided, was misleading. He seriously doubted any of the young hooligans would be going to sleep any time soon, even though it was almost eleven at night, which was past Bikky’s usual bedtime. On the other hand, it was a Saturday night so there was no school tomorrow, and Ryo wouldn’t be working either. At least he’d had the foresight to book Bikky’s birthday weekend off well in advance because the way things were going, by morning he’d be dead on his feet.
Maybe he should have listened to Dee. His partner had warned him that a birthday sleepover was a bad idea.
“A party, sure; kids expect that. But you’ve gotta be outta your mind lettin’ the little runts spend the night. They’re gonna be hyped from all the sugary foods and you’ll be stuck dealin’ with ‘em instead of sendin’ ‘em home to their parents.”
Well, it was too late now; the kids were as sugar-hyped as Dee had warned him they’d be, and his neighbours were probably about ready to kill him.
He’d know better next year.
The End